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Title: The Letters of Cicero, Volume 1

Author: Marcus Tullius Cicero

Translator: Evelyn S. Shuckburgh

Release date: April 22, 2007 [eBook #21200]
Most recently updated: June 4, 2015

Language: English

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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LETTERS
OF CICERO, VOLUME 1 ***

THE LETTERS OF

CICERO
THE WHOLE EXTANT CORRESPONDENCE
IN CHRONOLOGICAL ORDER

TRANSLATED INTO ENGLISH

BY

EVELYN S. SHUCKBURGH, M.A.
LATE FELLOW OF EMMANUEL COLLEGE, CAMBRIDGE
AUTHOR OF A TRANSLATION OF POLYBIUS, A HISTORY OF
ROME, ETC

IN FOUR VOLUMES

Vol. I. b.c. 68-52
LONDON
GEORGE BELL AND SONS
1899

CHISWICK PRESS:—CHARLES WHITTINGHAM AND CO.
TOOKS COURT, CHANCERY LANE, LONDON.

PREFACE
The object of this book is to give the English-speaking public, in a
convenient form, as faithful and readable a copy as the translator was
capable of making of a document unique in the literature of antiquity.
Whether we regard the correspondence of Cicero from the point of view of
the biographer and observer of character, the historian, or the lover of belles
lettres, it is equally worthy of study. It seems needless to dwell on the
immense historical importance of letters written by prominent actors in one
of the decisive periods of the world's history, when the great Republic, that
had spread its victorious arms, and its law and discipline, over the greater
part of the known world, was in the throes of its change from the old order
to the new. If we would understand—as who would not?—the motives and
aims of the men who acted in that great drama, there is nowhere that we can
go with better hope of doing so than to these letters. To the student of
character also the personality of Cicero must always have a great
fascination. Statesman, orator, man of letters, father, husband, brother, and
friend—in all these capacities he comes before us with singular vividness.
In every one of them he will doubtless rouse different feelings in different
minds. But though he will still, as he did in his lifetime, excite vehement
disapproval as well as strong admiration, he will never, I think, appear to
anyone dull or uninteresting. In the greater part of his letters he is not
posing or assuming a character; he lets us only too frankly into his
weaknesses and his vanities, as well as his generous admirations and warm
affections. Whether he is weeping, or angry, or exulting, or eager for
compliments, or vain of his abilities and achievements, he is not a phantasm
or a farceur, but a human being with fiercely-beating pulse and hot blood.
The difficulty of the task which I have been bold enough to undertake is
well known to scholars, and may explain, though perhaps not excuse, the
defects of my work. One who undertakes to express the thoughts of
antiquity in modern idiom goes to his task with his eyes open, and has no
right at every stumbling-block or pitfall to bemoan his unhappy fate. So
also with the particular difficulties presented by the great founder of Latin
style—his constant use of superlatives, his doubling and trebling of nearly

synonymous terms, the endless shades of meaning in such common words
as officium, fides, studium, humanitas, dignitas, and the like—all these the
translator has to take in the day's work. Finally, there are the hard nuts to
crack—often very hard—presented by corruption of the text. Such
problems, though, relatively with other ancient works, not perhaps
excessively numerous, are yet sufficiently numerous and sufficiently
difficult. But besides these, which are the natural incidents of such work,
there is the special difficulty that the letters are frequently answers to others
which we do not possess, and which alone can fully explain the meaning of
sentences which must remain enigmatical to us; or they refer to matters by a
word or phrase of almost telegraphic abruptness, with which the recipient
was well acquainted, but as to which we are reduced to guessing. When,
however, all such insoluble difficulties are allowed for, which after all in
absolute bulk are very small, there should (if the present version is at all
worthy) be enough that is perfectly plain to everyone, and generally of the
highest interest.
I had no intention of writing a commentary on the language of Cicero or his
correspondents, and my translation must, as a rule, be taken for the only
expression of my judgment formed after reading and weighing the
arguments of commentators. I meant only to add notes on persons and
things enabling the reader to use the letters for biographical, social, and
historical study. I should have liked to dedicate it by the words
Boswellianus Boswellianis. But I found that the difficulties of the text
compelled me to add a word here and there as to the solution of them which
I preferred, or had myself to suggest. Such notes are very rare, and rather
meant as danger signals than critical discussions. I have followed in the
main the chronological arrangement of the letters adopted by Messrs.
Tyrrell and Purser, to whose great work my obligations are extremely
numerous. If, as is the case, I have not always been able to accept their
conclusions, it is none the less true that their brilliant labours have infinitely
lightened my task, and perhaps made it even possible.
I ought to mention that I have adopted the English mode of dating, writing,
for instance, July and August, though Cicero repudiated the former and, of
course, never heard of the latter. I have also refrained generally from
attempting to represent his Greek by French, partly because I fear I should
have done it ill, and partly because it is not in him as in an English writer

who lards his sentences with French. It is almost confined to the letters to
Atticus, to whom Greek was a second mother-tongue, and often, I think, is a
quotation from him. It does not really represent Cicero's ordinary style.
One excuse for my boldness in venturing upon the work is the fact that no
complete translation exists in English. Mr. Jeans has published a brilliant
translation of a selection of some of the best of the letters. But still it is not
the whole. The last century versions of Melmoth and Herbenden have many
excellences; but they are not complete either (the letters to Brutus, for
instance, having been discovered since), and need, at any rate, a somewhat
searching revision. Besides, with many graces of style, they may perhaps
prove less attractive now than they did a century ago. At any rate it is done,
and I must bear with what equanimity nature has given me the strictures of
critics, who doubtless will find, if so minded, many blemishes to set off
against, and perhaps outweigh, any merit my translation may have. I must
bear that as well as I may. But no critic can take from me the days and
nights spent in close communion with Rome's greatest intellect, or the
endless pleasure of solving the perpetually recurring problem of how best to
transfer a great writer's thoughts and feelings from one language to another:

"Cæsar in hoc potuit iuris habere nihil."

LETTERS IN VOLUME I
Number
in this
Translation
Fam. I. 1 94
" 2 95
" 3 96
" 4 97
" 5 98
" 5b 102
" 6 103
" 7 113
" 8 152
" 9 152
" 10 161
Fam. II. 1 165
" 2 167
" 3 168
" 4 174
" 5 175
" 6 176
Fam. III. 1 180
Fam. V. 1 13
" 2 14
" 3 112
" 4 88
" 5 17
" 6 15
" 7 12
" 8 130
" 12 108

" 17 178
" 18 179
Fam. VII. 1 126
" 2 181
" 5 133
" 6 135
" 7 136
" 8 139
" 9 144
" 10 160
" 11 166
" 12 169
" 13 170
" 14 171
" 15 173
" 16 156
" 17 145
" 18 172
" 23 125
" 26 93
Fam. XIII. 6a 114
" 6b 115
" 40 128
" 41 54
" 42 53
" 49 162
" 60 163
" 73 164
" 74 127
" 75 177
Fam. XIV. 1 81
" 2 78
" 3 83
" 4 61

Fam. XVI. 10 p. 386
" 13 p. 384
" 14 p. 385
" 16 p. 387
Q. Fr. I. 1 29
" 2 52
" 3 65
" 4 71
Q. Fr. II. 1 92
" 2 99
" 3 101
" 4 104
" 5 105
" 6 116
" 7 119
" 8 122
" 9 131
" 10 132
" 11 134
" 12 138
" 13 140
" 14 141
" 15 146
Q. Fr III. 1 147
" 2 149
" 3 150
" 4 151
" 5
" 6 } 154
" 7 155
" 8 158
" 9 159
Petit. Cons. p. 367
Att. I. 1 10

" 2 11
" 3 8
" 4 9
" 5 1
" 6 2
" 7 3
" 8 5
" 9 4
" 10 6
" 11 7
" 12 16
" 13 18
" 14 19
" 15 20
" 16 21
" 17 22
" 18 23
" 19 24
" 20 25
Att. II. 1 26
" 2 27
" 3 28
" 4 30
" 5 31
" 6 32
" 7 33
" 8 34
" 9 35
" 10 37
" 11 38
" 12 36
" 13 39
" 14 40
" 15 41

" 16 42
" 17 43
" 18 44
" 19 45
" 20 46
" 21 47
" 22 48
" 23 49
" 24 50
" 25 51
Att. III. 1 58
" 2 56
" 3 55
" 4 57
" 5 59
" 6 60
" 7 62
" 8 63
" 9 64
" 10 66
" 11 67
" 12 68
" 13 70
" 14 69
" 15 72
" 16 73
" 17 74
" 18 75
" 19 76
" 20 77
" 21 79
" 22 80
" 23 82
" 24 84

" 25 85
" 26 86
" 27 87
Att. IV. 1 89
" 2 90
" 3 91
" 4a 100
" 4b 106
" 5 107
" 6 109
" 7 110
" 8a 111
" 8b 117
" 9 121
" 10 120
" 11 123
" 12 124
" 13 129
" 14 137
" 15 143
" 16
" 17} 142,148, 157
" 18 153

INTRODUCTION
The correspondence of Cicero, as preserved for us by his Ground
freedman Tiro, does not open till the thirty-ninth year of the covered
orator's life, and is so strictly contemporary, dealing so exclusively by the
Correspo
with the affairs of the moment, that little light is thrown by it on ndence.
his previous life. It does not become continuous till the year after
his consulship (b.c. 62). There are no letters in the year of the consulship
itself or the year of his canvass for the consulship (b.c. 64 and 63). It begins
in b.c. 68, and between that date and b.c. 65 there are only eleven letters.
We have, therefore, nothing exactly contemporaneous to help us to form a
judgment on the great event which coloured so much of his after life, the
suppression of the Catilinarian conspiracy and the execution of the
conspirators, in the last month of his consulship. But setting aside the first
eleven letters, we have from that time forward a correspondence
illustrating, as no other document in antiquity does, the hopes and fears, the
doubts and difficulties, of a keen politician living through the most
momentous period of Roman history, the period of the fall of the Republic,
beginning with Pompey's return from the East in b.c. 62, and ending with
the appearance of the young Octavian on the scene and the formation of the
Triumvirate in b.c. 43, of whose victims Cicero was one of the first and
most illustrious. It is by his conduct and speeches during this period that
Cicero's claim to be a statesman and a patriot must be judged, and by his
writings in the same period that his place in literature must chiefly be
assigned. Before b.c. 63 his biography, if we had it, would be that of the
advocate and the official, no doubt with certain general views on political
questions as they occurred, but not yet committed definitely to a party, or
inclined to regard politics as the absorbing interest of his life. In his early
youth his hero had been his fellow townsman Marius, in whose honour he
composed a poem about the time of taking the toga virilis. But it was as the
successful general, and before the days of the civil war. And though he
served in the army of Sulla in the Marsic war (b.c. 90-88), he always
regarded his cruelties with horror, however much he may have afterwards
approved of certain points of his legislation. It was not till the consulship

that he became definitely a party man[1] and an Optimate, and even then his
feelings were much distracted by a strong belief—strangely ill-founded—
that Pompey would be as successful as a statesman as he had been fortunate
as a general. For him he had also a warm personal attachment, which never
seems to have wholly died out, in spite of much petulance of language. This
partly accounts for the surrender of b.c. 56, and his acquiescence in the
policy of the triumvirs, an acquiescence never hearty indeed, as far as
Cæsar and Crassus were concerned, but in which he consoled himself with
the belief that nothing very unconstitutional could be done while Pompey
was practically directing affairs at Rome.
It is through this period of political change and excitement that the The
correspondence will take us, with some important gaps indeed, but various
on the whole fullest when it is most wanted to shew the feelings naturethe
of

and motives guiding the active politicians of the day, or at any rate Correspo
the effect which events had upon one eager and acute intellect and ndence.
sensitive heart. One charm of the correspondence is variety. There
is almost every sort of letter. Those to Atticus are unstudied, spontaneous,
and reflect the varying moods of the writer. At times of special excitement
they follow each other day by day, and sometimes more than once in the
same day; and the writer seems to conceal nothing, however much it might
expose him to ridicule, and to the charge of fickleness, weakness, or even
cowardice. Those addressed to other friends are sometimes familiar and
playful, sometimes angry and indignant. Some of them are careful and
elaborate state papers, others mere formal introductions and
recommendations. Business, literature, and philosophy all have their share
in them; and, what is so rare in ancient literature, the family relations of the
writer, his dealings with wife, son, and daughter, brother and nephew, and
sons-in-law, are all depicted for us, often with the utmost frankness. After
reading them we seem to know Cicero the man, as well as Cicero the
statesman and orator. The eleven letters which precede the consulship are
happily, from this point of view, addressed to Atticus. For it was to Atticus
that he wrote with the least concealment, and with the confidence that any
detail, however small, which concerned himself would be interesting to his
correspondent. It is well, therefore, that, though we thus come into his life
when it was more than half over, we should at once hear his genuine
sentiments on whatever subjects he may be speaking. Besides his own, we

have about ninety letters to Cicero from some of the chief men of the day—
Pompey, Cæsar, Cato, Brutus, Antony, and many others. They are of very
various excellence. The best of them are by much less known men. Neither
Pompey nor Cæsar were good letter-writers, or, if the latter was so, he was
too busy to use his powers.
The letters begin, then, in b.c. 68, when Cicero was in his thirty- Cicero's
seventh year. He was already a man of established reputation both position
as a pleader and a writer. Rhetorical treatises (b.c. 86), translations previous
to the
from Xenophon and Plato (b.c. 84), and from the poems of Aratus beginning
(b.c. 81), had given evidence of a varied literary interest and a of the
promise of future eminence, while his success as an advocate had Correspo
ndence in
led to the first step in the official cursus honorum by his becoming b.c. 68.
a quæstor in b.c. 75. The lot assigned Lilybæum as his sphere of
work, and though the duties of a quæstor in Sicily were not such as to bring
a man's name much before the Roman public, Cicero plumes himself, as
was not unusual with him, on the integrity and energy which he displayed in
his administration. He has indeed the honesty to tell against himself the
story of the acquaintance who, meeting him at Puteoli on his return journey,
asked him what day he had left Rome and what was the news Quæstor,
there. When he answered rather crossly that he had just come from b.c. 75.
Sicily, another acquaintance put in with "Why, of course. Didn't
you know he has just been quæstor at Syracuse!" At any rate he had done
sufficiently well in Lilybæum to give him his next step, the ædileship to
which he was elected b.c. 70, and to induce the Sicilians to apply to him,
when in that year they desired the prosecution of the extortionate Verres.
His energy and success in this business raised him, without question, to the
first rank of advocates, and pledged him to a righteous policy in regard to
the government of the provinces.
Still Cicero was a novus homo, and the jealous exclusiveness of Cicero's
the great families at Rome might yet prevent his attainment of the Boyhood
highest office of all. When the correspondence opens he is a and Education
candidate for the prætorship, which he obtained without difficulty, .
at the head of the poll. But his birth might still be a bar to the
consulship. His father, M. Tullius, lived at Arpinum, an ancient city of the
Volscians and afterwards of the Samnites, which had long enjoyed a partial,
and from b.c. 188 a complete, Roman franchise, and was included in the

Cornelian tribe. Cicero's mother's name was Helvia, of whom we know
nothing but the one anecdote told by Quintus (Fam. xvi. 26), who says that
she used to seal the wine jars when they were emptied, so that none might
be drained without her knowing it—a testimony to her economy and careful
housewifery. His father had weak health and resided almost entirely in his
villa at Arpinum, which he had considerably enlarged, much devoted to
study and literature (de Leg. ii. 1). But though he apparently possessed
considerable property, giving him equestrian rank, and though Cicero says
that his family was very ancient, yet neither he nor any of his ancestors had
held Roman magistracies. Marcus and his brother Quintus were the first of
their family to do so, and both had to depend on character and ability to
secure their elections. But though the father did nothing for his sons by
holding curule office himself, he did the best for their education that was
possible. Cicero calls him optimus et prudentissimus, and speaks with
gratitude of what he had done for his sons in this respect. They were sent
early to Rome to the house of C. Aculeo, a learned jurisconsult, married to a
sister of Helvia; and attended—with their cousins, the sons of Aculeo—the
best schools in the city.[2] The young Marcus shewed extraordinary ability
from the first, and that avidity for reading and study which never forsook
him. As a young man he diligently attended the chambers of renowned
jurisconsults, especially those of the elder and younger Scævola, Crassus,
and Antonius, and soon found that his calling in life was oratory. It was not
till he was twenty-eight years old, however—when he had already written
much and pleaded many cases—that he went on a visit of between two and
three years to Greece, Asia, and Rhodes, to study in the various schools of
rhetoric and philosophy, and to view their famous cities (b.c. 79-77). It was
after his return from this tour that his age (he was now thirty-one) made the
seeking of office at Rome possible. From that time his election to the
several offices—quæstorship, ædileship, prætorship, consulship—followed
without any repulse, each in the first year of his age at which he was legally
capable of being elected.
He had doubtless made the acquaintance of Titus Pomponius, afterwards
called Atticus, early in life. But it seems that it was their intimacy at Athens
(b.c. 79), where Atticus, who was three years his senior, had been residing
for several years, that began the very close and warm friendship which
lasted with nothing but the slightest and most passing of clouds till his

death. His brother Quintus was married to Pomponia, a sister of Atticus; but
the marriage turned out unfortunately, and was a strain upon the friendship
of Cicero and Atticus rather than an additional bond. This source of
uneasiness meets us in the very first letter of the correspondence, and crops
up again and again till the final rupture of the ill-assorted union by divorce
in b.c. 44. Nothing, however, had apparently interrupted the correspondence
of the two friends, which had been going on for a long time before the first
letter which has been preserved.
The eleven letters, then, which date before the consulship, shew us Cicero
Cicero in full career of success as an advocate and rising official, the
not as yet apparently much interested in party politics, but with his successfu
l
mind, in the intervals of forensic business, engaged on the Advocate
adornment of the new villa at Tusculum, the first of the numerous .
country residences which his growing wealth or his heightened
ideas of the dignity of his position prompted him to purchase. Atticus is
commissioned to search in Athens and elsewhere for objects of art suitable
for the residence of a wealthy Roman, who at the same time was a scholar
and man of letters. He is beginning to feel the charm of at any rate a
temporary retreat from the constant bustle and occupations of the city.
Though Cicero loved Rome, and could hardly conceive of life unconnected
with its business and excitements,[3] and eagerly looked for news of the city
in his absence, yet there was another side to his character. His interest in
literature and philosophy was quite as genuine as his interest in the forum
and senate-house. When the season came for temporarily withdrawing from
the latter, he returned to the former with eager passion. But Tusculum was
too near Rome to secure him the quiet and solitude necessary for study and
composition. Thus, though he says (vol. i., p. 4), "I am so delighted with my
Tusculan villa that I never feel really happy till I get there," he often found
it necessary, when engaged in any serious literary work, to seek the more
complete retirement of Formiæ, Cumæ, or Pompeii, near all of which he
acquired properties, besides an inheritance at Arpinum.[4] But the important
achievements in literature were still in the future. The few letters of b.c. 68-
67 are full of directions to Atticus for the collection of books or works of art
suitable to his house, and of matters of private interest. They are also short
and sometimes abrupt. The famous allusion to his father's death in the
second letter of this collection, contained in a single line—pater nobis

decessit a.d. 111 Kal. Decembris—followed by directions to Death of
Atticus as to articles of vertu for his villa, has much exercised the Cicero's
minds of admirers, who do not like to think Cicero capable of Father.
such a cold-hearted sentence. It is certainly very unlike his usual manner.[5]
He is more apt to exaggerate than understate his emotions; and in the first
letter extant he speaks with real feeling of the death of a cousin. Elsewhere
—as we have seen—he refers to his father with respect and gratitude. How
then are we to account for such a cold announcement? Several expedients
have been hit upon. First, to change decessit to discessit, and to refer the
sentence to the father's quitting Rome, and not life; in which case it is not
easy to see why the information is given at all. Second, to suppose it to be a
mere answer to a request for the information on the part of Atticus; in which
case the date must refer to some previous year, or the letter must be placed
considerably later, to allow of time for Atticus to hear of the death and to
write his question. In favour of the first is the fact that Asconius (§ 82) says
that Cicero lost his father when he was a candidate for the consulship (b.c.
64). Some doubt has been thrown upon the genuineness of the passage in
Asconius; and, if that is not trustworthy, we have nothing else to help us.
On the whole I think we must leave the announcement as it stands in all its
baldness. Cicero's father had long been an invalid, and Atticus may have
been well aware that the end was expected. He would also be acquainted
with the son's feelings towards his father, and Cicero may have held it
unnecessary to enlarge upon them. It is possible, too, that he had already
written to tell Atticus of the death and of his own feelings, but had omitted
the date, which he here supplies. Whatever may be the true explanation—
impossible now to recover—everything we know of Cicero forbids us to
reckon insensibility among his faults, or reserve in expressing his feelings
among his characteristics.
In the next year (b.c. 67) we find Cicero elected to the prætorship, The
after at least two interruptions to the comitia, which, though not Prætorshi
aimed at himself, gave him a foretaste of the political troubles to p, b.c. 66.
come a few years later. He is, however, at present simply annoyed at the
inconvenience, not yet apprehensive of any harm to the constitution. The
double postponement, indeed, had the effect of gratifying his vanity: for his
own name was returned three times first of the list of eight. His prætorship
(b.c. 66) passed without any startling event. The two somewhat meagre

letters which remain belonging to this year tell us hardly anything. Still he
began more or less to define his political position by advocating the lex
Manilia, for putting the Mithridatic war into the hands of Pompey; and one
of his most elaborate forensic speeches—that for Cluentius—was delivered
in the course of the year: in which also his brother Quintus was elected to
the ædileship.
So far Cicero had risen steadily and without serious difficulty up b.c. 65-
the official ladder. But the stress was now to come. The old 64.
families seem not to have been so ready to oppose the rise of the Preparati
ons for
novus homo to the prætorship. It was the consulship on which they the
tried to keep a tight hand. Accordingly, immediately after the year Consulshi
p.
of his prætorship, we find him anxiously looking out for support
and inquiring who are likely to be his competitors. The interesting point in
regard to this is his connexion with Catiline. In his speech in the senate
delivered in the following year (in toga candida, b.c. 64) he denounced
Catiline in the most violent language, accusing him of every conceivable
crime; yet in b.c. 65 he not only contemplated being elected with him
without any expression of disgust, but even considered whether he should
not undertake his defence on some charge that was being brought against
him—perhaps for his conduct during the Sullan proscriptions. To
whitewash Catiline is a hopeless task; and it throws a lurid light upon the
political and moral sentiments of the time to find Cicero even
contemplating such a conjunction.
After this, for two years, there is a break in the correspondence. Atticus had
probably returned to Rome, and if there were letters to others (as no doubt
there were) they have been lost. A certain light is thrown on the proceedings
of the year of candidature (b.c. 64) by the essay "On the duties of a
candidate," ascribed to his brother Quintus, who was himself to be a
candidate for the prætorship in the next year (b.c. 63). We may see from this
essay that Pompey was still regarded as the greatest and most influential
man at Rome; that Catiline's character was so atrocious in the eyes of most,
that his opposition was not to be feared; that Cicero's "newness" was a
really formidable bar to his election, and that his chief support was to be
looked for from the individuals and companies for whom he had acted as
counsel, and who hoped to secure his services in the future. The support of
the nobles was not a certainty. There had been a taint of popularity in some

of Cicero's utterances, and the writer urges him to convince the consulars
that he was at one with the Optimates, while at the same time aiming at the
conciliation of the equestrian order. This was, in fact, to be Cicero's political
position in the future. The party of the Optimates—in spite of his disgust at
the indifference and frivolity of many of them—was to be his party: his
favourite constitutional object was to be to keep the equites and the senate
on good terms: and his greatest embarrassment was how to reconcile this
position with his personal loyalty to Pompey, and his views as to the
reforms necessary in the government of the provinces.
For the momentous year of the consulship we have no letters. His The
brother Quintus was in Rome as candidate and then prætor- Consulshi
designate; Atticus was also in Rome; and the business, as well as p, b.c. 63.
the dignity of a consul, were against anything like ordinary correspondence.
Of the earlier part of the consulship we have little record. The speeches
against Rullus were delivered at the beginning of the year, and commit
Cicero pretty definitely to a policy as to the ager publicus—which was, to
his disgust, entirely reversed by the triumvirs in b.c. 59—but they do not
shew any sense of coming trouble. Cicero, however, throughout his
consulship took a very definite line against the populares. Not only did he
defend Rabirius Postumus, when accused by Cæsar of the assassination of
Saturninus, and address the people against offering violence to L. Roscius
on account of the unpopular lex theatralis,[6] but he even resisted the
restoration to their civil rights of the sons of the men proscribed by Sulla,
avowedly on the ground of the necessity of maintaining the established
order, though he knew and confessed the justice of the proposal.[6]
Any movement, therefore, on the side of the popular party had The
now his opposition with which to reckon. He professes to have Conspirac
known very early in his year of office that some more than usually yCatiline.
of

dangerous movement was in contemplation. We cannot well
decide from the violent denunciation of Catiline contained—to judge from
extant fragments—in the speech in toga candida, how far Cicero was really
acquainted with any definite designs of his. Roman orators indulged in a
violence of language so alien from modern ideas and habits, that it is
difficult to draw definite conclusions. But it appears from Sallust that
Catiline had in a secret meeting before the elections of b.c. 64, professed an
intention of going all lengths in a revolutionary programme and, if that was

the case, Cicero would be sure to have had some secret information on the
subject. But his hands were partly tied by the fact that the comitia had given
him a colleague—C. Antonius—deeply implicated in Catiline's policy,
whatever it was. Pompey, whom he regarded as the champion of law and
order, was in the East: and Catiline's candidature—and it was supposed his
policy also—had had the almost open support of the richest man in Rome,
M. Licinius Crassus, and of the most influential man of the populares, C.
Iulius Cæsar. In the house of one or the other of them, indeed, the meeting
at which Catiline first unfolded his purposes was believed to have been
held. Still Catiline had not been guilty of any overt act which enabled
Cicero to attack him. He had, indeed, been informed, on very questionable
authority, that Catiline had made a plot to assassinate him while holding the
elections, and he made a considerable parade of taking precautions for his
safety—letting it be seen that he wore a cuirass under his toga, and causing
his house to be guarded by the younger members of his party. The elections,
according to Plutarch, had at least been once postponed from the ordinary
time in July, though this has been denied.[7] At any rate it was not till they
had taken place and Catiline had been once more rejected, that any definite
step is alleged to have been taken by him, such as Cicero could lay hold of
to attack him. On the 20th of October, in the senate, Cicero made a speech
warning the Fathers of the impending danger, and on the 21st called upon
Catiline for an explanation in their presence. But, after all, even the famous
meeting of the 5th of November, in the house of M. Porcius Læca, betrayed
to Cicero by Fulvia, the mistress of Q. Curius, would not have sufficed as
grounds for the denunciation of the first extant speech against Catiline (7th
of November), if it had not been for something else. For some months past
there had been rumours of risings in various parts of Italy; but by the
beginning of November it was known that C. Manlius (or Mallius) had
collected a band of desperadoes near Fæsulæ, and, having established there
a camp on the 27th of October, meant to advance on Rome. Manlius had
been a centurion in Sulla's army, and had received an allotment of
confiscated land in Etruria; but, like others, had failed to prosper. The
movement was one born of discontent with embarrassments which were
mostly brought about by extravagance or incompetence. But the rapidity
with which Manlius was able to gather a formidable force round him seems
to shew that there were genuine grievances also affecting the agricultural
classes in Etruria generally. At any rate there was now no doubt that a

formidable disturbance was brewing; the senate voted that there was a
tumultus, authorized the raising of troops, and named commanders in the
several districts affected. It was complicity in this rising that Cicero now
sought to establish against Catiline and his partisans in Rome. The report of
the meeting in the house of Læca gave him the pretext for his first step—a
fiery denunciation of Catiline in the senate on the 7th of November. Catiline
left Rome, joined the camp of Manlius, and assumed the ensigns of
imperium. That he was allowed thus to leave the city is a proof that Cicero
had as yet no information enabling him to act at once. It was the right of
every citizen to avoid standing a trial by going into exile. Catiline was now
under notice of prosecution for vis, and when leaving Rome he professed to
be going to Marseilles, which had the ius exilii. But when it was known that
he had stopped short at Fæsulæ, the senate at once declared both him and
Manlius hostes, and authorized the consuls to proceed against them. The
expedition was intrusted to Antonius, in spite of his known sympathy with
Catiline, while Cicero was retained with special powers to protect the city.
The result is too well known to be more than glanced at here. Catiline's
partisans were detected by letters confided to certain envoys of the
Allobroges, which were held to convict them of the guilt of treason, as
instigating Catiline to march on Rome, and the senate of the Allobroges to
assist the invasion by sending cavalry to Fæsulæ.
The decree of the senate, videant consules, etc., had come to be Execution
considered as reviving the full imperium of the consul, and of the
investing him with the power of life and death over all citizens. conspirat
ors,
Cicero acted on this (questionable) constitutional doctrine. He Decembe
endeavoured, indeed, to shelter himself under the authority of a r, b.c. 63.
senatorial vote. But the senate never had the power to try or Its legal
grounds
condemn a citizen. It could only record its advice to the consul. and
The whole legal responsibility for the condemnation and death of conseque
nces.
the conspirators, arrested in consequence of these letters, rested on
the consul. To our moral judgment as to Cicero's conduct it is of primary
importance to determine whether or not these men were guilty: to his legal
and constitutional position it matters not at all. Nor was that point ever
raised against him. The whole question turns on whether the doctrine was
true that the senatus consultum ultimum gave the consul the right of
inflicting death upon citizens without trial, i.e., without appeal to the

people, on the analogy of the dictator seditionis sedandæ causa, thus
practically defeating that most ancient and cherished safeguard of Roman
liberty, the ius provocationis. The precedents were few, and scarcely such as
would appeal to popular approval. The murder of Tiberius Gracchus had
been ex post facto approved by the senate in b.c. 133-2. In the case of Gaius
Gracchus, in b.c. 121, the senate had voted uti consul Opimius rempublicam
defenderet, and in virtue of that the consul had authorized the killing of
Gaius and his friends: thus for the first time exercising imperium sine
provocatione. Opimius had been impeached after his year of office, but
acquitted, which the senate might claim as a confirmation of the right, in
spite of the lex of Gaius Gracchus, which confirmed the right of provocatio
in all cases. In b.c. 100 the tribune Saturninus and the prætor Glaucia were
arrested in consequence of a similar decree, which this time joined the other
magistrates to the consuls as authorized to protect the Republic: their death,
however, was an act of violence on the part of a mob. Its legality had been
impugned by Cæsar's condemnation of Rabirius, as duovir capitalis, but to
a certain extent confirmed by the failure to secure his conviction on the trial
of his appeal to the people. In b.c. 88 and 83 this decree of the senate was
again passed, in the first case in favour of Sulla against the tribune
Sulpicius, who was in consequence put to death; and in the second case in
favour of the consuls (partisans of Marius) against the followers of Sulla.
Again in b.c. 77 the decree was passed in consequence of the insurrection of
the proconsul Lepidus, who, however, escaped to Sardinia and died there.
In every case but one this decree had been passed against the popular party.
The only legal sanction given to the exercise of the imperium sine
provocatione was the acquittal of the consul Opimius in b.c. 120. But the
jury which tried that case probably consisted entirely of senators, who
would not stultify their own proceedings by condemning him. To rely upon
such precedents required either great boldness (never a characteristic of
Cicero), or the most profound conviction of the essential righteousness of
the measure, and the clearest assurance that the safety of the state—the
supreme law—justified the breach of every constitutional principle. Cicero
was not left long in doubt as to whether there would be any to question his
proceeding. On the last day of the year, when about to address the people,
as was customary, on laying down his consulship, the tribune Q. Cæcilius
Metellus Nepos forbade him to speak, on the express ground that he "had

put citizens to death uncondemned"—quod cives indemnatos necavisset.
Cicero consoled himself with taking the required oath as to having observed
the laws, with an additional declaration that he had "saved the state."
Nevertheless, he must have felt deeply annoyed and alarmed at the action of
Metellus, for he had been a legatus of Pompey, and was supposed to
represent his views, and it was upon the approbation and support of
Pompey, now on the eve of his return from the East, that Cicero particularly
reckoned.
The letters in our collection now recommence. The first of the Letters
year (b.c. 62) is one addressed to Pompey, expressing some after b.c.
discontent at the qualified manner in which he had written on 63.
recent events, and affirming his own conviction that he had acted in the best
interests of the state and with universal approval. But indeed the whole
correspondence to the end of Cicero's exile is permeated with this subject
directly or indirectly. His quarrel with Metellus Nepos brought upon him a
remonstrance from the latter's brother (or cousin), Metellus Celer (Letters
XIII, XIV), and when the correspondence for b.c. 61 opens, we find him
already on the eve of the quarrel with Publius Clodius which was to bring
upon him the exile of b.c. 58.
P. Clodius Pulcher was an extreme instance of a character not Publius
uncommon among the nobility in the last age of the Republic. Of Clodius
high birth, and possessed of no small amount of ability and Pulcher.
energy, he belonged by origin and connexion to the Optimates; but he
regarded politics as a game to be played for his personal aggrandizement,
and public office as a means of replenishing a purse drained by boundless
extravagance and self-indulgence. His record had been bad. He had
accompanied his brother-in-law Lucullus, or had joined his staff, in the war
with Mithridates, and had helped to excite a mutiny in his army in revenge
for some fancied slight. He had then gone to Cilicia, where another brother-
in-law, Q. Marcus Rex, was proprætor, and while commanding a fleet under
him had fallen into the hands of pirates, and when freed from them had
gone—apparently in a private capacity—to Antioch, where he again excited
a mutiny of Syrian troops engaged in a war against the Arabians (b.c. 70-
65). On his return to Rome he attempted to make himself conspicuous by
prosecuting Catiline, but accepted a bribe to withdraw. In b.c. 64, on the
staff of the governor of Gallia Narbonensis, he is accused of having

enriched himself with plunder. For a time after that he was still acting as a
member of the party of the Optimates; seems to have supported Cicero
during the Catiline conspiracy; and in b.c. 62 stood for the quæstorship and
was elected. His violation of the mysteries was alleged to have been
committed in December of that year, and before he could go to the province
allotted to him as quæstor in Sicily he had to stand a trial for sacrilege. Such
an offence—penetrating in disguise into the house of the Pontifex
Maximus, when his wife was engaged in the secret rites of the Bona Dea—
would place him under a curse, and not only prevent his entering upon his
quæstorship, but would disfranchise and politically ruin him. Clodius would
seem not to have been a person of sufficient character or importance to
make this trial a political event. But not only had he powerful backers, but
his opponents also, by proposing an innovation in the manner of selecting
the jurors for trying him, had managed to give a spurious political
importance to the case. One of the most brilliant of the early letters (XV, p.
37) gives us a graphic picture of the trial. Clodius was acquitted and went to
his province, but returned in b.c. 60, apparently prepared for a change of
parties. Cicero and he had quarrelled over the trial. He had said sarcastic
things about the sacred consulship, and Cicero had retaliated by bitter
speeches in the senate, and by giving evidence at the trial of having seen
Clodius in Rome three hours before he professed to have been at Interamna,
on the day of the alleged sacrilege. It is perhaps possible that his alibi may
have been true in substance, for he may have been well out of Rome on his
way to Interamna after seeing Cicero. But, however that may be, he
nourished a grudge against Cicero, which he presently had an opportunity
of satisfying. The year of his return to Rome from Sicily (b.c. 60) was the
same as that of Cæsar's return from Spain. Pompey—who had returned the
year before—was at enmity with the senate on account of the difficulties
raised to the confirmation of his acta and the allotments for his veterans.
Cæsar had a grievance because of the difficulties put in the way of his
triumph. The two coalesced, taking in the millionaire Crassus, to form a
triumvirate or coalition of three, with a view to getting measures they
desired passed, and offices for themselves or their partisans. This was a
great blow to Cicero, who clung feverously to Pompey as a political leader,
but could not follow him in a coalition with Cæsar: for he knew that the
object of it was a series of measures of which he heartily disapproved. His
hope of seeing Pompey coming to act as acknowledged leader of the

Optimates was dashed to the ground. He could not make up his mind
wholly to abandon him, or, on the other hand, to cut himself adrift from the
party of Optimates, to whose policy he had so deeply committed himself.
Clodius was troubled by no such scruples. Perhaps Cæsar had given him
substantial reasons for his change of policy. At any rate, from this time
forward he acts as an extreme popularis—much too extreme, as it turned
out, for Pompey's taste. As a patrician his next step in the official ladder
would naturally have been the ædileship. But that peaceful office did not
suit his present purpose. The tribuneship would give him the right to bring
forward measures in the comitia tributa, such as he desired to pass, and
would in particular give him the opportunity of attacking Cicero. The
difficulty was that to become tribune he must cease to be a patrician. He
could only do that by being adopted into a plebeian gens. He had a plebeian
ready to do it in b.c. 59. But for a man who was sui iuris to be adopted
required a formal meeting of the old comitia curiata, and such a meeting
required the presence of an augur, as well as some kind of sanction of the
pontifices. Cæsar was Pontifex Maximus, and Pompey was a member of the
college of augurs. Their influence would be sufficient to secure or prevent
this being done. Their consent was, it appears, for a time withheld. But
Cæsar was going to Gaul at the end of his consulship, and desired to have
as few powerful enemies at Rome during his absence as possible. Still he
had a personal feeling for Cicero, and when it was known that one of
Clodius's objects in seeking to become a plebeian and a tribune was to
attack him, Cæsar offered him two chances of honourable retreat—first as
one of the commissioners to administer his land law, and again as one of his
legati in Gaul. But Cicero would not accept the first, because he was
vehemently opposed to the law itself: nor the second, because he had no
taste for provincial business, even supposing the proconsul to be to his
liking; and because he could not believe that P. Clodius would venture to
attack him, or would succeed if he did. Cæsar's consulship of b.c. 59 roused
his worst fears for the Republic; and, though he thought little of the
statesmanship or good sense of Cæsar's hostile colleague Bibulus, he was
thoroughly disgusted with the policy of the triumvirs, with the
contemptuous treatment of the senate, with the high-handed disregard of the
auspices—by means of which Bibulus tried to invalidate the laws and other
acta of Cæsar—and with the armed forces which Pompey brought into the
campus, nominally to keep order, but really to overawe the comitia, and

secure the passing of Cæsar's laws. Nor was it in his nature to conceal his
feelings. Speaking early in the year in defence of his former colleague, C.
Antonius, accused of maiestas for his conduct in Macedonia, he expressed
in no doubtful terms his view of the political situation. Within a few hours
the words were reported to the triumvirs, and all formalities were promptly
gone through for the adoption of Clodius. Cæsar himself presided at the
comitia curiata, Pompey attended as augur, and the thing was done in a few
minutes. Even then Cicero does not appear to have been alarmed, or to have
been fully aware of what the object of Publius was. While on his usual
spring visit to his seaside villas in April (b.c. 59), he expressed surprise at
hearing from the young Curio that Clodius was a candidate for the
tribuneship (vol. i., p. 99). His surprise no doubt was more or less assumed:
he must have understood that Clodius's object in the adoption was the
tribunate, and must have had many uneasy reflexions as to the use which he
would make of the office when he got it. Indeed there was not very much
doubt about it, for Publius openly avowed his intentions. We have
accordingly numerous references, in the letters to Atticus, to Cicero's doubts
about the course he ought to adopt. Should he accept Cæsar's offer of a
legation in Gaul, or a free and votive legation? Should he stay in Rome and
fight it out? The latter course was the one on which he was still resolved in
July, when Clodius had been, or was on the point of being, elected tribune
(p. 110). He afterwards wavered (p. 113), but was encouraged by the belief
that all the "orders" were favourable to him, and were becoming alienated
from the triumvirs (pp. 117, 119), especially after the affair of Vettius (pp.
122-124), and by the friendly disposition of many of the colleagues of
Clodius in the tribuneship. With such feelings of confidence and courage
the letters of b.c. 59 come to an end.
The correspondence only opens again in April of b.c. 58, when the The
worst has happened. Clodius entered upon his tribuneship on the Exile,
10th of December, b.c. 59, and lost little time in proposing a law April,
b.c. 58—
to the comitia for the trial of any magistrate guilty of putting August,
citizens to death without trial (qui cives indemnatos necavisset). b.c. 57.
The wording of the law thus left it open to plead that it applied
only to such act as occurred after its enactment, for the pluperfect
necavisset in the dependent clause answers to the future perfect in a direct
one. And this was the interpretation that Cæsar, while approving the law

itself, desired to put upon it.[8] He again offered Cicero a legation in Gaul,
but would do nothing for him if he stayed in Rome; while Pompey, who had
been profuse in promises of protection, either avoided seeing Cicero, or
treated his abject entreaties with cold disdain.[9] Every citizen, by a humane
custom at Rome, had the right of avoiding a prosecution by quitting the city
and residing in some town which had the ius exilii. It is this course that we
find Cicero already entered upon when the correspondence of the year
begins. In the letters of this year of exile he continually reproaches himself
with not having stayed and even supported the law, in full confidence that it
could not be applied to himself. He attributes his having taken the less
courageous course to the advice of his friends, who were actuated by
jealousy and a desire to get rid of him. Even Atticus he thinks was timid, at
the best, in advising his retirement. It is the only occasion in all the
correspondence in which the least cloud seems to have rested on the perfect
friendship of the two men. Atticus does not appear to have shewn any
annoyance at the querulous remarks of his friend. He steadily continued to
write, giving information and advice, and made no difficulty in supplying
his friend with money. During Cicero's absence Atticus became still more
wealthy than before by inheriting the estates of his cross-grained uncle
Cæcilius. But he was always careful as to the investment of his money and
he would not, perhaps, have been so ready to trust Cicero, had he not felt
confidence in the ultimate recovery of his civil status. Still his confidence
was peculiarly welcome at a time which would have been otherwise one of
great pressure. For Clodius had followed up Cicero's retirement with the
usual lex in regard to persons leaving Rome to avoid a trial—a prohibition
"of fire and water" within a fixed distance from Italy, which involved the
confiscation of all his property in Italy. His villas were dismantled, his town
house pulled down, and a vote of the people obtained by Clodius for the
consecration of its site as a templum dedicated to Liberty, and a scheme was
formed and the work actually commenced for occupying part of it by an
extension of an existing porticus or colonnade (the porticus Catuli) to
contain a statue of Liberty. That this consecration was regular is shewn by
the pleas by which it was afterwards sought to reverse it.[10] When Cicero
was recalled the question came before the pontifices, who decided that the
consecration was not valid unless it had been done by the "order of the
people." It could not be denied on the face of it that there had been such an
order. Cicero was obliged to resort to the plea that Clodius's adoption had

been irregular and invalid, that therefore he was not legally a tribune, and
could not take an order of the people. Finally, the senate seems to have
decided that its restoration to Cicero was part of the general restitutio in
integrum voted by the comitia centuriata; and a sum of money was
assigned to him for the rebuilding of the house. Clodius refused to
recognize the validity of this decree of the senate, and attempted by
violence to interrupt the workmen engaged on the house. We have a lively
picture of this in Letter XCI (vol. i., pp. 194-196).
The letters from Cicero as an exile are painful reading for those Letters of
who entertain a regard for his character. It was not unnatural, the Exile
indeed, that he should feel it grievously. He had so completely (Letters
LV-
convinced himself of the extraordinary value of his services to the LXXXVI
state, of the importance of his position in Roman politics, and of II).
the view that the Optimates would take of the necessity of
retaining him, that to see himself treated like a fraudulent or unsuccessful
provincial governor, of no importance to anyone but himself, was a bitter
blow to his self-esteem. The actual loss was immense. His only means were
now the amount of money he had been able to take with him, or was able to
borrow. All was gone except such property as his wife retained in her own
right. He was a dependent upon her, instead of being her support and the
master of his own household. The services of freedmen—readily rendered
when he was prosperous—would now be a matter of favour and personal
attachment, which was not always sufficient to retain them. The "life and
light" of the city, in which no man ever took a more eager interest and
delight, were closed to him. He was cut off from his family, and from
familiar intercourse with friends, on both of which he was much dependent
for personal happiness. Lastly, wherever he lived, he lived, as it were, on
sufferance, no longer an object of respect as a statesman, or the source of
help to others by his eloquence. But, disagreeable as all this was to a man of
Cicero's sensitive vanity, there was something still worse. Even in towns
which were the legal distance from Italy he could not safely stay, if they
were within the jurisdiction of one of his personal enemies, or contained
other exiles, who owed him an ill turn. He was protected by no law, and
more than one instance of such a man's falling a victim to an enemy's
dagger is recorded. Cicero's first idea was to go to Malta: but Malta was for
some purposes in the jurisdiction of the governor of Sicily, and the governor

of Sicily (C. Vergilius[11]) objected to his passing through Sicily or staying
at Malta. We have no reason for supposing Vergilius personally hostile to
Cicero, but he may have thought that Cicero's services to the Sicilians in the
case of Verres would have called out some expression of feeling on their
part in his favour, which would have been awkward for a Roman governor.
Cicero therefore crossed to Epirus, and travelled down the Egnatian road to
Thessalonica. This was the official capital of the province of Macedonia,
and the quæstor in Macedonia, Gnæus Plancius, met Cicero at Dyrrachium,
invited him to fix his residence there with him, and accompanied him on his
journey. Here he stayed till November in a state of anxiety and distress,
faithfully reflected in his letters, waiting to hear how far the elections for
b.c. 57 would result in putting his friends in office, and watching for any
political changes that would favour his recall: but prepared to go still farther
to Cyzicus, if the incoming governor, L. Calpurnius Piso, who, as consul in
b.c. 58 with Gabinius, had shewn decided animus against him, should still
retain that feeling in Macedonia. Events, however, in Rome during the
summer and autumn of b.c. 58 gave him better hopes. Clodius, by his
violent proceedings, as well as by his legislation, had alienated Pompey,
and caused him to favour Cicero's recall. Of the new consuls Lentulus was
his friend, and Q. Cæcilius Metellus Nepos (who as tribune in b.c. 63-62
had prevented his speech when laying down his consulship) consented to
waive all opposition. A majority of the new tribunes were also favourable to
him, especially P. Sestius and T. Annius Milo; and in spite of constant ups
and downs in his feelings of confidence, he had on the whole concluded
that his recall was certain to take place. Towards the end of November he
therefore travelled back to Dyrrachium, a libera civitas in which he had
many friends, and where he thought he might be safe, and from which he
could cross to Italy as soon as he heard of the law for his recall having been
passed. Here, however, he was kept waiting through many months of
anxiety. Clodius had managed to make his recall as difficult as possible. He
had, while tribune, obtained an order from the people forbidding the consuls
to bring the subject before the senate, and Piso and Gabinius had during
their year of office pleaded that law as a bar to introducing the question.
The new consuls were not, or did not consider themselves, so The
bound, and Lentulus having brought the subject forward, the Recall,
August,
senate early passed a resolution that Cicero's recall was to take b.c. 57.

precedence of all other business. In accordance with the resolution of the
senate, a law was proposed by the consul Lentulus in the comitia
centuriata, and probably one by Milo to the tributa. But Clodius, though no
longer armed with the tribuneship, was not yet beaten. He obtained the aid
of some gladiators belonging to his brother Appius, and more than once
interrupted and dispersed an assembly of the comitia. In the riots thus
occasioned blood was shed on both sides, and Cicero's brother Quintus on
one occasion nearly lost his life. This was the beginning of the series of
violent contests between Clodius and Milo, only ended by the murder of the
former on the Appian road in b.c. 52. But Clodius was a candidate for the
ædileship in this year (b.c. 57), and could be barred from that office legally
by a prosecution for vis, of which Milo gave notice against him. It was,
perhaps, a desire to avoid this, as much as fear of Milo's counter exhibition
of violence, that at length caused him to relax in his opposition, or at any
rate to abstain from violently interrupting the comitia. Accordingly, on the
4th of August, the law proposed by both consuls, and supported by Pompey,
was passed unanimously by the centuries. Cicero, we must presume, had
received trustworthy information that this was to be the case (shewing that
some understanding had been come to with Clodius, or there would have
been no certainty of his not violently dispersing the comitia again), for on
that same day he set sail from Dyrrachium and landed at Brundisium on the
5th. His triumphant return to Rome is described in the eighty-ninth letter of
this collection. For Pompey's share in securing it he expressed, and seems
really to have felt, an exaggerated gratitude, which still influenced him in
the unhappy months of b.c. 49, when he was hesitating as to joining him
beyond seas in the civil war.
But though Clodius had somehow been prevented from hindering his recall,
he by no means relaxed his hostility. He not only tried to excite the
populace against him by arguing that the scarcity and consequent high price
of corn, from which the people were at that time suffering, was in some way
attributable to Cicero's policy, but he also opposed the restoration of his
house; and when a decree of the senate was passed in Cicero's favour on
that point, brought his armed ruffians to prevent the workmen from going
on with the rebuilding, as well as to molest Cicero himself (vol. i., p. 195).
This was followed by a determined opposition by Milo to the holding of the
elections for b.c. 56, until his prosecution of Clodius de vi should have been

tried. Clodius, however, was acquitted,[12] and, being elected ædile,
immediately commenced a counter accusation against Milo for vis. He
impeached him before the comitia in February (b.c. 56), on which occasion
Pompey spoke in Milo's defence in the midst of a storm of interruptions got
up by the friends of Clodius (vol. i., pp. 214, 217). Milo was also acquitted,
and the rest of Clodius's ædileship seems to have passed without farther acts
of open violence.
But Cicero had now other causes of anxiety. He had spoken in Cicero
favour of the commission offered to Pompey in b.c. 57 for and the
Triumvirs
superintending the corn-supply of Rome (cura annonæ). Pompey .
was to have fifteen legates, a good supply of ships and men, and
considerable powers in all corn-growing countries in the Mediterranean.
Cicero supported this, partly from gratitude to Pompey, but partly also from
a wish to promote his power and influence against the ever-increasing
influence and fame of Cæsar. He secretly hoped that a jealousy might grow
up between them; that Pompey would be drawn closer to the Optimates;
and that the union of the triumvirate might be gradually weakened and
finally disappear. Pompey was thoroughly offended and alarmed by the
insults offered him by the Clodian mob, and by Clodius's own
denunciations of him; and if he could be convinced that these were
suggested or approved by Cæsar or Crassus, it would go far to withdraw
him from friendship with either of them. With Crassus, indeed, he had never
been on cordial terms: it was only Cæsar's influence that had caused him to
form any union with him. Cæsar, on the other hand, was likely to be uneasy
at the great powers which the cura annonæ put into Pompey's hands; and at
the possible suggestion of offering him the dictatorship, if the Clodian riots
became quite intolerable. On the whole, Cicero thought that he saw the
element of a very pretty quarrel, from which he hoped that the result might
be "liberty"—the orderly working of the constitution, that is, without the
irregular supremacy of anyone, at any rate of anyone of the popular party.
He had, however, a delicate part to play. He did not wish or dare to break
openly with Cæsar, or to speak too openly to Pompey; and he was
conscious that the intemperance, folly, or indifference of many of the
Optimates made it difficult to reckon on their support, and made that
support a very questionable benefit if accorded. But though his letters of
this period are full of expressions indicating doubt of Pompey and irritation

with him, yet he seems still to have spoken of him with warmth on public
occasions, while he avoided mentioning Cæsar, or spoke of him only in
cold terms.
The hope, however, of detaching Pompey from Cæsar was dashed Renewal
by the meeting at Luca in April, b.c. 56, at which a fresh of the
arrangement was made for the mutual advantage of the triumvirs. Triumvirate at
Cæsar got the promise of the introduction of a law giving him an Luca,
additional five years of command in Gaul, with special privileges April,
b.c. 56,
as to his candidature for the consulship of b.c. 48; while Pompey and
and Crassus bargained for a second consulship in b.c. 55, and the Cicero's
reversion of the Spains (to be held as a single province) and Syria change of
policy.
respectively, each for five years. The care taken that none of the
three should have imperium overlapping that of the others was indeed a sign
of mutual distrust and jealousy. But the bargain was made with sufficient
approval of the members of the party crowding Luca to secure its being
carried out by the comitia. The union seemed stronger than ever; and Cicero
at length resolved on a great change of attitude. Opposition to the triumvirs
had been abandoned, he saw, by the very party for whom he had been
incurring the enmity of Pompey and Cæsar. Why should he hold out any
longer? "Since those who have no power," he writes to Atticus in April,
"refuse me their affection, let me take care to secure the affection of those
who have power. You will say, 'I could have wished that you had done so
before.' I know you did wish it, and that I have made a real ass of myself."
[13]
This is the first indication in the letters of the change. But it was soon to
be publicly avowed. The opposition to the consulship of Pompey and
Crassus was so violent that no election took place during b.c. 56, and they
were only elected under the presidency of interreges at the beginning of
February, b.c. 55. But by the lex Sempronia the senate was bound to name
the consular provinces—i.e., the provinces to be governed by the incoming
consuls after their year of office—before the elections, and in his speech on
the subject (de Provinciis Consularibus), delivered apparently in July, b.c.
56, Cicero, while urging that Piso and Gabinius should have successors
appointed to them in Macedonia and Syria, took occasion to announce and
defend his own reconciliation with Cæsar, and to support his continuance in
the governorship of Gaul. Shortly afterwards, when defending the
citizenship of L. Cornelius Balbus, he delivered a glowing panegyric on

Pompey's character and services to the state. This was followed by a
complete abstention from any farther opposition to the carrying out of
Cæsar's law for the allotment of the Campanian land—a subject which he
had himself brought before the senate only a short time before, and on
which he really continued to feel strongly.[14] Cicero's most elaborate
defence of his change of front is contained in a long letter to P. Lentulus
Spinther, written two years afterwards.[15] The gist of it is much the same as
the remark to Atticus already quoted. "Pompey and Cæsar were all-
powerful, and could not be resisted without civil violence, if not downright
civil war. The Optimates were feeble and shifty, had shewn ingratitude to
Cicero himself, and had openly favoured his enemy Clodius. Public peace
and safety must be the statesman's chief object, and almost any concession
was to be preferred to endangering these." Nevertheless, we cannot think
that Cicero was ever heartily reconciled to the policy, or the
unconstitutional preponderance of the triumvirs. He patched up some sort of
reconciliation with Crassus, and his personal affection for Pompey made it
comparatively easy for him to give him a kind of support. Cæsar was away,
and a correspondence filled on both sides with courteous expressions could
be maintained without seriously compromising his convictions. But Cicero
was never easy under the yoke. From b.c. 55 to b.c. 52 he sought several
opportunities for a prolonged stay in the country, devoting himself—in
default of politics—to literature. The fruits of this were the de Oratore and
the de Republica, besides poems on his own times and on his consulship.
Still he was obliged from time to time to appear in the forum and senate-
house, and in various ways to gratify Pompey and Cæsar. It must have been
a great strain upon his loyalty to this new political friendship when, in b.c.
54, Pompey called upon him to undertake the defence of P. Vatinius, whom
he had not long before attacked so fiercely while defending Sestius.
Vatinius had been a tribune in b.c. 59, acting entirely in Cæsar's interests,
and Cicero believed him to have been his enemy both in the matter of his
exile and in the opposition to his recall. He had denounced him in terms that
would have made it almost impossible, one would think, to have spoken in
his defence in any cause whatever. At best he represented all that Cicero
most disliked in politics; and on this very election, to the prætorship, for
which he was charged with bribery (de sodalitiis), Cicero had already
spoken in strongly hostile terms in the senate. For now undertaking his
defence he has, in fact, no explanation to give to Lentulus (vol. i., p. 319),

and he was long sore at having been forced to do it. Through b.c. 54 and 53
he was busied with his de Republica, and was kept more in touch with
Cæsar by the fact that his brother Quintus was serving as legatus Quintus
to the latter in Britain and Gaul, and that his friend Trebatius Cicero in
(introduced by himself) was seeking for promotion and profit in Gaul.
Cæsar's camp. But even his brother's service with Cæsar did not eventually
contribute to the formation of cordial feeling on his part towards Cæsar,
whom he could not help admiring, but never really liked. For Quintus,
though he distinguished himself by his defence of his camp in the autumn
of b.c. 54, lost credit and subjected himself to grave rebuke by the disaster
incurred in b.c. 53, near Aduatuca (Tongres), brought about by disregarding
an express order of Cæsar's. There is no allusion to this in the extant
correspondence, but a fragment of letter from Cæsar to Cicero (neque pro
cauto ac diligente se castris continuit[16]), seems to shew that Cæsar had
written sharply to Cicero on his brother's faux pas, and after this time,
though Cicero met Cæsar at Ravenna in b.c. 52, and consented to support
the bill allowing him to stand for the consulship in his absence,[17] there is
apparent in his references to him a return to the cold or critical tone of
former times. But of course there were other reasons.
Pompey's six months' sole consulship of b.c. 52 ("that divine third Pompey's
consulship"), the rumour of his dictatorship, and the growing third
determination of the Optimates to play off Pompey against Cæsar Consulshi
p and the
(Crassus having disappeared) and to insist on Cæsar resigning his trial of
province and army before the end of his ten years' tenure, and Milo, b.c.
52.
before standing for a second consulship, caused Cicero's hope of a
final dissolution of the unconstitutional compact to revive again; and made
him draw more and more closely to Pompey as the chief hope of the boni.
In the beginning of the year he had found himself in opposition, or quasi-
opposition, to Pompey in regard to the prosecution of Milo for the murder
of Clodius. But though in the previous year he had declared that the election
of Milo to the consulship was of the utmost importance to his own position
and the safety of the state,[18] now that it was rendered impossible by Milo's
condemnation, he seems to have placed all his hopes on Pompey.
Unfortunately, there is here a break in the correspondence. There is no letter
of the last six months of b.c. 53, and only four (perhaps only three) of b.c.
52.[19] So that the riots which prevented Milo's election, the death of

Clodius and the riots following it, and the consequent sole consulship of
Pompey, with the latter's new legislation and the trial of Milo—all have to
be sought for elsewhere. The last letter of this volume and of this year,
addressed to M. Marius in December, b.c. 52, alludes to the condemnation
of Milo, and to the numerous prosecutions following it. "Here, in Rome, I
am so distracted by the number of trials, the crowded courts, and the new
legislation, that I daily offer prayers that there may be no intercalation."[20]
When the correspondence opens again in the spring of b.c. 51 an Cicero
event has happened, of no particular importance in itself, but of appointed
Proconsul
supreme interest to Cicero, and very fortunate for the readers of of Cilicia,
the correspondence. One of Pompey's new laws ordained that no b.c. 51-
one was to take a province till the fifth year after laying down his 50.
consulship or prætorship. Pompey broke his own law by keeping
his province, the Spains—his position in regard to them was altogether
exceptional—but, in order to carry out the law in other cases, the senate
arranged that ex-consuls and ex-prætors who had not been to provinces
should in turn draw lots for vacant governorships. Cicero and Bibulus
appear to have been the senior consulares in that position, and with much
reluctance Cicero allowed his name to be cast into the urn. He drew Cilicia
and Bibulus Syria. He says that his motive was a desire to obey the wishes
of the senate. Another motive may have been a desire to be away from
Rome while the controversy as to Cæsar's retirement from his province was
settled, and to retrieve a position of some political importance, which he
had certainly not increased during the last few years. When it came to the
actual start, however, he felt all the gêne of the business—the formation and
control of his staff, the separation from friends, and the residence far from
the "light and life" of Rome, among officials who were certainly
commonplace and probably corrupt, and amidst a population, perhaps acute
and accomplished, but certainly servile and ill content, and in some parts
predatory and barbarous. At the best, they would be emphatically
provincial, in a dreary sense of the word. He felt unequal to the worry and
bore of the whole business, and reproached himself with the folly of the
undertaking. Of course, this regret is mingled with his usual self-
congratulation on the purity with which he means to manage his province.
But even that feeling is not strong enough to prevent his longing earnestly
to have the period of banishment as short as possible, or to prevent the

alarm with which he hears of a probable invasion by the Parthians. One
effect of his almost two years' absence from Rome was, I think, to deprive
him of the power of judging clearly of the course of events. He had constant
intelligence and excellent correspondents—especially Cælius—still he
could not really grasp what was going on under the surface: and when he
returned to find the civil war on the point of breaking out, he was, after all,
taken by surprise, and had no plan of action ready. This, as well as his
government of the province, will be fully illustrated in the next volume of
the correspondence.

The persons to whom the chief letters are addressed in this Cicero's
volume, besides Atticus, are Cicero's brother Quintus and P. Correspo
Lentulus Spinther. There are two excellent letters to M. Marius, ndents.
and one very interesting, though rather surprising, epistle to L. Lucceius.
Others of more than average interest are to Terentia, M. Fadius Gallus, C.
Scribonius Curio, and Tiro.
Atticus (b.c. 109-32) is a man of whom we should be glad to Titus
know more than we do. He was the friend of all the leading men Pomponi
of the day—Pompey, Cæsar, Cicero, Antony, Brutus—father-in- us Atticus.
law of Agrippa, and survived to be a constant correspondent of
Augustus, between b.c. 43 and his death in b.c. 32. He was spared and
respected by both sides in the civil wars, from Sulla to the Second
Triumvirate. The secret of his success seems to have been that he was no
man's rival. He resolutely declined all official employment, even on the
staff of his brother-in-law Quintus Cicero. He committed himself to no side
in politics, and, not being in the senate, had no occasion by vote or speech
to wound the feelings of anyone. So, too, though he cared for literature, it
was rather as a friendly critic of others than as an author. He did, it is true,
compile some books on Roman history, on historical portraits, and certain
family biographies; but they were not such as made him a rival of any of his
contemporaries. They were rather the productions of a rich amateur, who
had leisure to indulge a quasi-literary taste, without any thought of joining
the ranks of professed writers. Thirdly, he had great wealth, partly inherited,
partly acquired by prudent speculation in the purchase of town properties,

or in loans to states or public bodies on fair terms: and this wealth was at
the service of his friends, but not in the lavish or reckless manner, which
often earns only ingratitude without being of any permanent service to the
recipients. He lent money, but expected to be repaid even by his brother-in-
law. And this prudence helped to retain the confidence, while his
sympathetic temperament secured the liking, of most. Again, he had the
valuable knack of constantly replenishing the number of his friends among
men junior to himself. His character attracted the liking of Sulla, who was
twenty-seven years his senior, and he remained the close friend of his
contemporaries Hortensius and Cicero (the former five years his senior, the
latter three years his junior) till the day of their death. But we also find him
on intimate terms with Brutus, twenty-four, and Octavian, forty-six years
junior to himself. Lastly, he was not too much at Rome. More than twenty
years of his earlier manhood (b.c. 87-65) were spent in Greece, principally
at Athens, partly in study and partly in business. And Athens at this time,
long deprived of political importance, had still the charm not only of its
illustrious past, but also of its surviving character as the home of culture
and refinement. When he at length returned to Rome in b.c. 65, he had
already purchased a property in Epirus, near Buthrotum (see p. 3), where he
built a villa, in which he continued to spend a considerable part of his
remaining years. This was sufficiently remote, not only from Rome, but
from the summer residences of the Roman nobles, to secure his isolation
from the intrigues and enmities of Roman society. He did not indeed—as
who does?—always escape giving offence. At the very beginning of the
correspondence we hear of his vain attempts to mollify the anger of L.
Lucceius—how incurred we do not know; and Quintus Cicero, of whose
sharp temper we hear so much, was on more than one occasion on the point
of a rupture with him. But his family life was generally as pleasing as his
connexion with his friends. With his mother, who lived to a great age, he
boasted that he had never been reconciled, because he had never quarrelled.
He was the only one who could get on with the crusty uncle Cæcilius. In the
delicate matter of his sister Pomponia's differences with her husband
Quintus Cicero, he seems to have acted with kindness as well as prudence;
and though he married late in life (b.c. 56, when he was in his fifty-third
year), he appears to have made an excellent husband to Pilia and a very
affectionate father to his daughter. His unwearied sympathy with the varied
moods of Cicero—whether of exultation, irritation, or despair—and the

entire confidence which Cicero feels that he will have that sympathy in
every case, are creditable to both. It is only between sincere souls that one
can speak to the other as to a second self, as Cicero often alleges that he
does to Atticus.
Of Quintus Cicero, the next most important correspondent in this Quintus
volume, we get a fairly clear picture. Four years younger than his Tullius
famous brother (b. b.c. 102), he followed him at the due distance Cicero.
up the ladder of official promotion to the prætorship, to which he was
elected in the year of his elder's consulship. There, however, Quintus
stopped. He never seems to have stood for the consulship. He had no
oratorical genius to give him reputation in the forum, nor were his literary
productions of any value, either for style or originality. His abilities for
administration, as shewn in his three years' government of Asia, appear to
have been respectable, but were marred by faults of temper, which too often
betrayed him into extreme violence of language. In military command he
shewed courage and energy in defending his camp in the rising of the Gauls
in the winter of b.c. 54-53; but he spoilt the reputation thus gained by the
mistake committed in the autumn of b.c. 53, which cost the loss of a
considerable number of troops, and all but allowed the roving Germans to
storm his camp. He remained another year in Gaul, but did nothing to
retrieve this mistake. In military affairs fortune rarely forgives. In politics
he seems to have contented himself generally with saying ditto to his
brother. And this continued to be the case up to Pharsalia. After that, finding
himself on the losing side, he turned somewhat fiercely upon the brother,
whom he regarded as having misled him; and for a time there was a
miserable breach between them, which, however, did not last very long.
When the end came it found the brothers united in heart as in misfortune.
His private happiness was marred by an uncongenial marriage. Pomponia—
sister of Atticus—seems to have been as high-tempered as her husband, and
less placable. The constant quarrels between them exercised the patience
both of Cicero and Atticus, and crops up all through the correspondence.
One effect of them was the loss of all control over their son, who, being
called upon to smooth over the differences between father and mother,
naturally took up at an early age a line of his own, and shewed a disposition
to act independently of his elders.

The letters to Terentia do not fill much space in the Terentia.
correspondence, and are rarely interesting. Married about b.c. 80,
Cicero seems to have lived in harmony with her at least till the time of his
return from exile, during which unhappy period he acknowledges the
activity of her exertions in support of his recall, and the drain which his ruin
was making upon her resources. Terentia had a large private fortune, and
apparently used it liberally in his service. Nevertheless, immediately on his
return from exile, there seems to have been some cause of coldness between
the husband and wife. He darkly alludes to certain domestic troubles in the
first letter to Atticus written from Rome (vol i., p. 189), and repeats the hint
in the next (p. 193). When he landed at Brundisium it was Tullia, not
Terentia, who came to meet him (p. 187), and for some time after she
appears to be presiding in his house rather than Terentia (see pp. 224, 257).
Whatever the cause of this coldness was, however, it appears to have been
removed for a time. He kept up a correspondence with her while he was in
Cilicia (b.c. 51-50), and though he does not seem pleased at her having
arranged the marriage of Tullia with Dolabella, he addresses her warmly
when about to return, and was met by her on landing. During the five or six
months that followed, before Cicero left Italy to join Pompey, there is no
indication of any alienation: but the short notes from Pompey's camp, and in
the first half of b.c. 47, are cold and conventional, and on his return to
Brundisium after Pharsalia, and during his lengthened stay there, he appears
to have declined to allow her to come and see him. Soon after his return to
Rome, in September, b.c. 47, matters came to a climax. Perhaps some of the
mischief was caused by the mismanagement or dishonesty of Terentia's
steward, Philotimus, of whom we hear a good deal in the letters from
Cilicia: but whatever was the origin of the quarrel, Cicero asserts that on his
return he found his affairs in a state of utter disorder. It may well have been
that, like other adherents to the losing cause, he had to suffer from loss of
any property that could be easily laid hands on in Rome, and that Terentia
had had no power to save it. But Cicero, rightly or wrongly, attributed the
embarrassment which he found awaiting him to his wife. He says in a letter
to Gnæus Plancius:[21] "I should not have taken any new step at a time of
such general disaster had I not on my return found my private affairs in as
sorry a position as the public. The fact is, that when I saw that, owing to the
criminal conduct of those to whom my life and fortunes ought, in return for

my never-to-be-forgotten services, to have been their dearest object, there
was nothing safe within the walls of my house, nothing that was not the
subject of some intrigue, I made up my mind that I must arm myself by the
faithful support of new marriage connexions against the perfidy of the old."
This is a lame excuse for a man of sixty separating from the companion of
his whole manhood, and in the eyes of Roman Society it was rendered still
more questionable by a prompt marriage with a young girl, rich, and his
own ward: from whom, however, he soon again divorced himself, angered,
it is said, by her want of feeling at the death of Tullia. Terentia long
survived her husband, living, we are told, to be over a hundred years old.
Divorce was, of course, not regarded in these days of the Republic as it had
once been, or as it is now among ourselves; still we should have been glad,
both for his fame and his happiness, if the few years remaining to him had
not had this additional cloud. A man of sixty embarking on such
matrimonial enterprise is not a dignified spectacle, or one pleasing to gods
and men.
The other correspondents may be dismissed in few words.
P. Cornelius Lentulus Spinther, to whom some of the longest P.
letters are addressed, represents the high aristocracy, to which Cornelius
Cicero wished to commend himself, though seeing keenly the Lentulus Spinther.
weakness which underlay their magnificence. The part played by
Lentulus in politics had been showy, but never founded on steadfast
principle. He owed his earlier promotions to Cæsar's influence, but in his
consulship of b.c. 57 had taken the side of the aristocracy in promoting the
recall of Cicero, though he had gone against their sentiment by supporting
Pompey's appointment to the cura annonæ. But as he was going to Cilicia
in b.c. 56, Lentulus wished to have the lucrative task of restoring Ptolemy
Auletes to the throne of Egypt, from which he had been righteously driven
by his subjects. Therefore it was all to the good that Pompey should have
business at home preventing him from taking this in hand. How Lentulus
was baulked in this desire will appear in the letters. He no doubt had his full
share of the Lentulitas distinguishing his family. But all was forgiven by
Cicero to a man who had promoted his recall, and he takes great pains to
justify to Lentulus his own change of policy in regard to the triumvirs after
b.c. 56. When the civil war began Lentulus joined Domitius at Corfinium,
and with him fell into Cæsar's hands, and was dismissed unharmed. He

afterwards joined Pompey in Epirus, intent on succeeding Cæsar as
Pontifex Maximus, as soon as the latter had been satisfactorily disposed of.
After Pharsalia he sought refuge at Rhodes, but was refused sanctuary by
the islanders, and was eventually put to death, though we do not know by
whom (Att. xi. 13; Fam. ix. 18).
M. Fadius Gallus, the Epicurean, and M. Marius, the M. Fadius
valetudinarian and wit, were among friends valued for their Gallus,
personal and agreeable qualities rather than for any public or M. Marius,
political importance attaching to them. The same may be said of L.
L. Lucceius, of whose Roman history Cicero thought so well, that Lucceius,
he wrote a remarkable letter begging for an honourable place in it C. Scriboniu
[22]
for his consulship, as Pliny did to Tacitus. C. Scribonius Curio, s Curio,
son of a great friend of Cicero, after a jeunesse orageuse, returned C.Trebatius
to Rome from his quæstorship in Asia, in b.c. 53, to take up the Testa.
inheritance of his father, which he quickly dissipated. Cicero
seems to have had a high idea of his abilities, and to have believed him
capable of taking the lead of the Optimates. But in his tribuneship of b.c.
51-50 he disappointed all such hopes by openly joining Cæsar's party, and
resisting all attempts to recall him. He joined Cæsar at Ravenna as soon as
his tribuneship was out, and urged him to march on Rome. In b.c. 49 he was
sent to secure Sicily and Africa. The first he did, but in the second he
perished in battle against the senatorial governor and king Iuba. Cicero's
relation to C. Trebatius Testa, a learned jurisconsult, was apparently that of
a patron or tutor, who, thinking that he has found a young man of ability,
endeavours to push him. He sent him with a letter of introduction to Cæsar,
who was good-natured, though rather sarcastic as to the scope for legal
abilities to be found in Gaul. He gave him, however, a military tribuneship,
without exacting military duties, and apparently kept on good terms with
him, for he employed him in b.c. 49 to communicate his wish to Cicero as
to his remaining at Rome. Cicero's letters to him, though numerous, are not
among the most interesting. They are full of banter of a rather forced and
dull kind; and Cicero was evidently annoyed to find that his scheme for
advancing Trebatius in Cæsar's province had not been very successful. The
friendship, however, survived the civil war, and we find Cicero in b.c. 44
dedicating his Topica to Trebatius.

"Tullius, of all the sons of royal Rome
That are, or have been, or are yet to come,
Most skilled to plead, most learned in debate,—
Catullus hails thee, small as thou art great.
Take thou from him his thanks, his fond regards,
The first of patrons from the least of bards."

Catullus, xlix. (J. E. S.)

CICERO'S LETTERS

ERRATA IN VOL. I.

Page 107, note 3, last line, dele note of interrogation after "expenses."
" 193, note 4, last line, for b.c. 45 lege b.c. 46.
" 253, Letter CXXII, for a iv, 1, lege a iv, 2.

CICERO'S LETTERS

I (a i, 5)
This opening of the correspondence finds Cicero, now in his b.c. 68.
thirty-ninth year, in the midst of his official career. He had Coss., L.
already been quæstor (b.c. 75) and ædile (b.c. 69), and was Cæcilius
Metellus,
looking forward to his election to the prætorship in the next Q.
year (b.c. 67). He had already risen almost to the highest place Marcius
in his profession as advocate, and had partly delivered, partly Rex.
published his great indictment of Verres only a year ago. He is
married to Terentia (b.c. 80), and has one daughter, Tullia or
Tulliola, born on August 5, probably the next year (b.c. 79). His
intimacy with T. Pomponius Atticus (three years his senior),
perhaps begun at school, had lasted at least eleven years, from
the time when he met him at Athens (b.c. 79), and with him had
been initiated in the Eleusinian mysteries (de Leg. 2, § 36).
There too they had both seen much of the writer's cousin Lucius,
whose death he deplores in this letter (de Fin. 5, § 1). Atticus
had lived abroad in Athens and Epirus, with occasional visits
home from b.c. 88 to b.c. 65, in which latter year he seems to
have returned for a more lengthened stay (Nep. Att. 4). The two
friends have already corresponded frequently, but this is the first
letter preserved.

TO ATTICUS (AT ATHENS)

Rome

We are such intimate friends that more than almost anyone else b.c. 68,
you can appreciate the grief as well as the actual public and æt. 38
private loss that the death of my cousin Lucius is to me. There is
absolutely no gratification which any human being can receive from the
kindly character of another that I have not been accustomed to receive from
him. I am sure, therefore, that you will share my grief. For, in the first place,
whatever affects me affects you; and in the second place, you have yourself

lost in him a friend and connexion of the highest character and most
obliging disposition, who was attached to you from personal inclination, as
well as from my conversation.

As to what you say in your letter about your sister,[23] she will herself bear
me witness what pains I have taken that my brother Quintus should show
her proper affection. Thinking him somewhat inclined to be angry with her,
I wrote to him in such a way as I thought would not hurt his feelings as a
brother, while giving him some good advice as my junior, and
remonstrating with him as being in the wrong. The result is that, from
frequent letters since received from him, I feel confident that everything is
as it ought and as we should wish it to be.
As to the frequency of my letters you have no ground for your complaint.
The fact is our good sister Pomponia never informed me of there being a
courier ready to take a letter. Farthermore, I never chanced to know of
anyone going to Epirus,[24] and I was not till recently informed of your
being at Athens.
Again, as to the business of Acutilius which you had left in my hands. I had
settled it on my first visit to Rome after your departure. But it turned out
that, in the first place, there was no urgency in the matter, and, in the second
place, as I felt confidence in your judgment, I preferred that Peducæus[25]
rather than myself should advise you by letter on the subject. For having
submitted my ears to Acutilius for several days (and I think you know his
style), I should scarcely have regarded it as a hardship to write you a letter
describing his grumblings after patiently enduring the bore (and it was
rather a bore, I can tell you) of hearing them. Moreover, though you find
fault with me, allow me to observe that I have had only one letter from you,
though you had greater leisure for writing, and more opportunity of sending
letters.
As to what you say in your letter, "Even if anyone is inclined to be offended
with you, I ought to bring him to a better mind"—I understand to what you
allude, and I have not neglected the matter. But the truth is that the extent of
his displeasure is something surprising. However, I have not omitted to say
anything there was to say in your behalf: but on what points I am to hold
out your wishes, I consider, ought to be my guide. If you will write me

word distinctly what they are, you will find that I have had no desire to be
more exacting, and in the future shall be no more yielding, than you wish.
[26]

As to the business of Tadius. He tells me that you have written him word
that there was no need of farther trouble, since the property is secured by
prescription. I am surprised that you do not know that in the case of a
statutory wardship of an unmarried girl prescription cannot be pleaded.[27]
I am glad you like your purchase in Epirus. What I commissioned you to
get for me, and anything you see suitable to my Tusculan villa, I should be
glad if you will, as you say in your letter, procure for me, only don't put
yourself to any inconvenience. The truth is, there is no other place that
gives me complete rest after all my worries and hard work.
I am expecting my brother Quintus every day. Terentia has a severe attack
of rheumatism. She is devoted to you, to your sister, and your mother, and
adds her kindest regards in a postscript. So does my pet Tulliola. Love me,
and be assured that I love you as a brother.

II (a i, 6)
TO ATTICUS (AT ATHENS)

Rome, December

I won't give you any excuse hereafter for accusing me of b.c. 68,
neglecting to write. It is you that must take care that with all your æt. 38
leisure you keep up with me.

Rabirius's house at Naples,[28]for the improvement of which you have
designs drawn out and completed in imagination, has been bought by M.
Fonteius[29] for 130,000 sesterces (about £1,040). I wished you to know this
in case you were still hankering after it.
We may be quite satisfied, I think, with my brother's feelings towards
Pomponia. He is with her at present in his villa at Arpinum, and has
Decimus Turanius with him, who is great in belles lettres.
The date of my father's death was the 28th of November.
That is about all my news. If you light on any articles of vertu suitable for a
gymnasium, which would look well in the place you wot of,[30] please don't
let them slip. I am so delighted with my Tusculan villa that I never feel
really happy till I get there. Let me know exactly what you are doing and
intending to do about everything.

III (a i, 7)
TO ATTICUS (AT ATHENS)

Rome, December

All's well at your mother's,[31] and I keep an eye on her. I have b.c. 68,
undertaken to pay L. Cincius 20,400 sesterces[32] to your credit on æt. 38
the Ides of February. Pray see that I receive at the earliest possible
opportunity what you say in your letters that you have bought and secured
for me. I should also be very much obliged if you would, as you promised,
think over the means of securing the library for me. My hope of getting the
one enjoyment which I care for, when I come to retire, depends entirely on
your kindness.

IV (a i, 9)
The year of Cicero's election to the prætorship. It is the year b.c. 67.
also of Pompey's great commission by the lex Gabinia against Coss., C.
the Pirates. But Cicero does not seem as yet much concerned Calpurniu
s Piso, M.
with "foreign politics." Acilius
Glabrio.

TO ATTICUS (AT ATHENS)

Rome

I get letters from you far too seldom considering that you can b.c. 67,
much more easily find people starting for Rome than I to Athens: æt. 39
considering, too, that you are more certain of my being at Rome
than I of your being at Athens. For instance, it is owing to this uncertainty
on my part that this very letter is somewhat short, because not being sure as
to where you are, I don't choose my confidential talk to fall into strange
hands. The Megaric statues and the Hermæ, which you mentioned in your
letters, I am waiting for impatiently. Anything you have of the same kind
which may strike you as worthy of my "Academia," do not hesitate to send,
and have complete confidence in my money-chest. My present delight is to
pick up anything particularly suitable to a "gymnasium." Lentulus promises
the use of his ships. I beg you to be zealous in these matters. Thyillus begs
you (and I also at his request) to get him some writings of the Eumolpidæ.
[33]

V (a i, 8)
TO ATTICUS (AT ATHENS)

Rome

All well at your house. Your mother and sister are regarded with b.c. 67,
affection by me and my brother Quintus. I have spoken to æt. 39
Acutilius. He says that he has not heard from his agent, and
professes surprise that you should make any difficulty of his having refused
to guarantee you against farther demands. As to the business of Tadius, the
announcement in your letter that you have settled the matter out of court I
saw gratified and pleased him very much. That friend of mine[34]—a most
excellent man, upon my honour, and most warmly attached to me—is very
angry with you. If I could but know how much you care about it, I should
be able to decide how much trouble I am to take in the matter. I have paid
L. Cincius the 20,400 sesterces for the Megaric statues in accordance with
your letter to me. As to your Hermæ of Pentelic marble with bronze heads,
about which you wrote to me—I have fallen in love with them on the spot.
So pray send both them and the statues, and anything else that may appear
to you to suit the place you wot of, my passion, and your taste—as large a
supply and as early as possible. Above all, anything you think appropriate
to a gymnasium and terrace. I have such a passion for things of this sort that
while I expect assistance from you, I must expect something like rebuke
from others. If Lentulus has no vessel there, put them on board anyone you
please. My pet Tulliola claims your present and duns me as your security. I
am resolved, however, to disown the obligation rather than pay up for you.

VI (a i, 10)
TO ATTICUS (AT ATHENS)

Tusculum

"Being in my Tusculan villa" (that's for your "being in the b.c. 67,
Ceramicus")—however, I being there, a courier sent by your sister æt. 39
arrived from Rome and delivered me a letter from you,
announcing at the same time that the courier who was going to you started
that very afternoon. The result is that, though I do send an answer, I am
forced by the shortness of the time to write only these few words. First, as
to softening my friend's feeling towards you, or even reconciling him
outright, I pledge you my word to do so. Though I have been attempting it
already on my own account, I will now urge the point more earnestly and
press him closer, as I think I gather from your letter that you are so set upon
it. This much I should like you to realize, that he is very deeply offended;
but since I cannot see any serious ground for it, I feel confident that he will
do as I wish and yield to my influence. As for my statues and Hermeracles,
pray put them on board, as you say in your letter, at your very earliest
convenience, and anything else you light upon that may seem to you
appropriate to the place you wot of, especially anything you think suitable
to a palæstra and gymnasium. I say this because I am sitting there as I write,
so that the very place itself reminds me. Besides these, I commission you to
get me some medallions to let into the walls of my little entrance-court, and
two engraved stone-curbs. Mind you don't engage your library to anyone,
however keen a lover you may find; for I am hoarding up my little savings
expressly to secure that resource for my old age. As to my brother, I trust
that all is as I have ever wished and tried to make it. There are many signs
of that result—not least that your sister is enceinte. As for my election, I
don't forget that I left the question entirely to you, and I have all along been
telling our common friends that I have not only not asked you to come, but
have positively forbidden you to do so, because I understood that it was
much more important to you to carry through the business you have now in

hand, than it is to me to have you at my election. I wish you therefore to
feel as though you had been sent to where you are in my interests. Nay, you
will find me feeling towards you, and hear of it from others, exactly as
though my success were obtained not only in your presence, but by your
direct agency.
Tulliola gives notice of action against you. She is dunning me as your
surety.

VII (a i, 11)
TO ATTICUS (AT ATHENS)

Rome

I was doing so before spontaneously, and have been since greatly b.c. 67,
stirred by your two letters, with their earnest expressions to the æt. 39
same effect. Besides, Sallustius has been always at my side to
prompt me to spare no pains to induce Lucceius to be reconciled to you. But
after doing everything that could be done, not only did I fail to renew his
old feelings towards you, but I could not even succeed in eliciting the
reason of his alienation. On his part, however, he keeps harping on that
arbitration case of his, and the other matters which I knew very well before
you left Rome were causing him offence. Still, he has certainly got
something else fixed deeper in his mind; and this no letters from you, and
no commissioning of me will obliterate as easily as you will do in a
personal interview, I don't mean merely by your words, but by the old
familiar expression of your face—if only you think it worth while, as you
will if you will listen to me, and be willing to act with your habitual
kindness. Finally, you need not wonder why it is that, whereas I intimated
in my letters that I felt hopeful of his yielding to my influence, I now appear
to have no such confidence; for you can scarcely believe how much more
stubborn his sentiment appears to me than I expected, and how much more
obstinate he is in this anger. However, all this will either be cured when you
come, or will only be painful to the party in fault.
As to the sentence in your letter, "you suppose by this time I am prætor-
elect," let me tell you that there is no class of people at Rome so harassed
by every kind of unreasonable difficulty as candidates for office; and that
no one knows when the elections will be.[35] However, you will hear all this
from Philadelphus. Pray despatch at the earliest opportunity what you have
bought for my "Academia." I am surprisingly delighted with the mere
thought of that place, to say nothing of its actual occupation. Mind also not

to let anyone else have your books. Reserve them, as you say in your letter,
for me. I am possessed with the utmost longing for them, as I am with a
loathing for affairs of every other kind, which you will find in an incredibly
worse position than when you left them.[36]

VIII (a i, 3)
In this year Cicero was prætor, and delivered his first extant b.c. 66.
public speech (apud populum) in support of the lex Manilia, Coss., M.
which gave Pompey the command in the Mithridatic War with Æmilius
Lepidus,
the provinces of Asia and Bithynia. The strict Optimates L.
opposed it. Cicero supported it on the grounds of the Volcatius
Tullus.
importance of the war and the proofs Pompey had already
given of military ability, courage, personal prestige, and good
fortune. He takes occasion to point out the mischief done to the
Roman name by oppressive or fraudulent governors and
imperators. In this same year he delivered one of his ablest
speeches in court in defending A. Cluentius Habitus on a charge
of poisoning. At the consular elections this year the two first
elected were disabled for bribery.

TO ATTICUS (AT ATHENS)

Rome, January

I have to inform you of the death of your grandmother from pining b.c. 66,
at your long absence, and at the same time because she was afraid æt. 40
that the Latin towns would revolt and fail to bring the victims up
the Alban Mount. I presume that L. Saufeius will send you a letter of
condolence on the subject.[37] I am expecting you here in the course of
January—is it a mere rumour or does it come from letters of yours to
others? For to me you have not mentioned the subject. The statues which
you got for me have been landed at Caieta. I haven't seen them, for I have
been unable to leave Rome. I have sent a man to clear the freightage. I am
exceedingly obliged to you for having taken so much trouble to get them,
and so reasonably. As to your frequent remarks in your letters about
pacifying my friend, I have done everything I could and tried every
expedient; but he is inveterate against you to a surprising degree, on what
suspicions, though I think you have been told, you shall yet learn from me

when you come. I failed to restore Sallustius[38] to his old place in his
affections, and yet he was on the spot. I tell you this because the latter used
to find fault with me in regard to you. Well, he has found by personal
experience that he is not so easy to pacify, and that on my part no zeal has
been lacking either on his or your behalf. I have betrothed Tulliola to C.
Piso Frugi, son of Lucius.[39]

IX (a i, 4)
TO ATTICUS (AT ATHENS)

Rome

You keep on making me expect you again and again. Only the b.c. 65,
other day, when I thought you on the point of arriving, I was æt. 41
suddenly put off by you till Quintilis (July). Now, however, I do
think that you should come at the time you mention if you possibly can.
You will thereby be in time for my brother Quintus's election, will pay me a
long-deferred visit, and will settle the dispute with Acutilius. This latter
Peducæus also suggested my mentioning to you, for I think it is full time
that you settled that affair. My good offices are at your service and always
have been so. Here at Rome I have conducted the case of Gaius Macer with
a popular approval surpassing belief and unparalleled. Though I had been
inclined to take a lenient view of his case, yet I gained much more
substantial advantage from the popular approval on his condemnation than I
should have got from his gratitude if he had been acquitted.[40] I am very
glad to hear what you say about the Hermathena. It is an ornament
appropriate to my "Academia" for two reasons: Hermes is a sign common
to all gymnasia, Minerva specially of this particular one. So I would have
you, as you say, adorn the place with the other objects also, and the more
the better. The statues which you sent me before I have not yet seen. They
are in my villa at Formiæ, whither I am at this moment thinking of going. I
shall get them all transferred to my Tusculan villa. If I find myself with
more than I want there I shall begin adorning Caieta. Please reserve your
books, and don't despair of my being able to make them mine. If I succeed
in that, I am superior to Crassus in wealth and look down on everybody's
manors and pastures.[41]

X (a i, 1)
The election to the consulship is not till the next year (b.c. 64), b.c. 65.
but Cicero is already making preparation for it, and looking Coss., L.
out for support. In July his only son was born. He does not AureliusCotta, L.
refer to the so-called "first Catilinarian conspiracy," but Manlius
mentions Catiline as a possible competitor, and even Torquatus
contemplates defending him on some charge brought against .
him to prevent his standing for the consulship.

TO ATTICUS (AT ATHENS)

Rome, July

The state of things in regard to my candidature, in which I know b.c. 65,
that you are supremely interested, is this, as far as can be as yet æt. 41
conjectured. The only person actually canvassing is P. Sulpicius
Galba.[42] He meets with a good old-fashioned refusal without reserve or
disguise. In the general opinion this premature canvass of his is not
unfavourable to my interests; for the voters generally give as a reason for
their refusal that they are under obligations to me. So I hope my prospects
are to a certain degree improved by the report getting about that my friends
are found to be numerous. My intention was to begin my own canvass just
at the very time that Cincius[43] tells me that your servant starts with this
letter, namely, in the campus at the time of the tribunician elections on the
17th of July. My fellow candidates, to mention only those who seem
certain, are Galba and Antonius and Q. Cornificius.[44] At this I imagine you
smiling or sighing. Well, to make you positively smite your forehead, there
are people who actually think that Cæsonius[45] will stand. I don't think
Aquilius will, for he openly disclaims it and has alleged as an excuse his
health and his leading position at the bar. Catiline will certainly be a
candidate, if you can imagine a jury finding that the sun does not shine at
noon. As for Aufidius and Palicanus,[46] I don't think you will expect to hear

from me about them. Of the candidates for this year's election Cæsar is
considered certain. Thermus is looked upon as the rival of Silanus.[47] These
latter are so weak both in friends and reputation that it seems pas impossible
to bring in Curius over their heads. But no one else thinks so. What seems
most to my interests is that Thermus should get in with Cæsar. For there is
none of those at present canvassing who, if left over to my year, seems
likely to be a stronger candidate, from the fact that he is commissioner of
the via Flaminia, and when that has been finished, I shall be greatly
relieved to have seen him elected consul this election.[48] Such in outline is
the position of affairs in regard to candidates up to date. For myself I shall
take the greatest pains to carry out all the duties of a candidate, and perhaps,
as Gaul seems to have a considerable voting power, as soon as business at
Rome has come to a standstill I shall obtain a libera legatio and make an
excursion in the course of September to visit Piso,[49] but so as not to be
back later than January. When I have ascertained the feelings of the nobility
I will write you word. Everything else I hope will go smoothly, at any rate
while my competitors are such as are now in town. You must undertake to
secure for me the entourage of our friend Pompey, since you are nearer than
I. Tell him I shall not be annoyed if he doesn't come to my election.[50] So
much for that business. But there is a matter for which I am very anxious
that you should forgive me. Your uncle Cæcilius having been defrauded of a
large sum of money by P. Varius, began an action against his cousin A.
Caninius Satyrus for the property which (as he alleged) the latter had
received from Varius by a collusive sale. He was joined in this action by the
other creditors, among whom were Lucullus and P. Scipio, and the man
whom they thought would be official receiver if the property was put up for
sale, Lucius Pontius; though it is ridiculous to be talking about a receiver at
this stage in the proceedings. Cæcilius asked me to appear for him against
Satyrus. Now, scarcely a day passes that Satyrus does not call at my house.
The chief object of his attentions is L. Domitius,[51] but I am next in his
regard. He has been of great service both to myself and to my brother
Quintus in our elections. I was very much embarrassed by my intimacy with
Satyrus as well as that with Domitius, on whom the success of my election
depends more than on anyone else. I pointed out these facts to Cæcilius; at
the same time I assured him that if the case had been one exclusively
between himself and Satyrus, I would have done what he wished. As the

matter actually stood, all the creditors being concerned—and that too men
of the highest rank, who, without the aid of anyone specially retained by
Cæcilius, would have no difficulty in maintaining their common cause—it
was only fair that he should have consideration both for my private
friendship and my present situation. He seemed to take this somewhat less
courteously than I could have wished, or than is usual among gentlemen;
and from that time forth he has entirely withdrawn from the intimacy with
me, which was only of a few day's standing.[52] Pray forgive me, and
believe that I was prevented by nothing but natural kindness from assailing
the reputation of a friend in so vital a point at a time of such very great
distress, considering that he had shewn me every sort of kindness and
attention. But if you incline to the harsher view of my conduct, take it that
the interests of my canvass prevented me. Yet, even granting that to be so, I
think you should pardon me, "since not for sacred beast or oxhide shield."
[53]
You see in fact the position I am in, and how necessary I regard it, not
only to retain but even to acquire all possible sources of popularity. I hope I
have justified myself in your eyes, I am at any rate anxious to have done so.
The Hermathena you sent I am delighted with: it has been placed with such
charming effect that the whole gymnasium seems arranged specially for it.
[54]
I am exceedingly obliged to you.

XI (a i, 2)
TO ATTICUS (AT ATHENS)

Rome, July

I have to inform you that on the day of the election of L. Iulius b.c. 65,
Cæsar and C. Marcius Figulus to the consulship, I had an addition æt. 41
to my family in the shape of a baby boy. Terentia doing well.
Why such a time without a letter from you? I have already written to you
fully about my circumstances. At this present time I am considering
whether to undertake the defence of my fellow candidate, Catiline.[55] We
have a jury to our minds with full consent of the prosecutor. I hope that if he
is acquitted he will be more closely united with me in the conduct of our
canvass; but if the result be otherwise I shall bear it with resignation. Your
early return is of great importance to me, for there is a very strong idea
prevailing that some intimate friends of yours, persons of high rank, will be
opposed to my election. To win me their favour I see that I shall want you
very much. Wherefore be sure to be in Rome in January, as you have agreed
to be.

We have no letters to or from Cicero in the years b.c. 64 and b.c. 62.
63,[56] partly, no doubt, because Atticus was in Rome a great Coss., D.
Iunius
deal during these years. We take up the correspondence, Silanus,
therefore, after an interval of two years, which in many L.
respects were the most important in Cicero's life. In b.c. 64 he Licinius
Murena.
attained his chief ambition by being elected to the consulship,
but we have little trace of his public actions that year, only the
fragments of one speech remaining, in defence of Q. Gallius on
a charge of ambitus. The animus of the popular party, however,

is shewn by the prosecution of some surviving partisans of Sulla
on charges of homicide, among them Catiline, who by some
means escaped conviction (Dio, xxxvii. 10). In the year of the
consulship (b.c. 63) some of Cicero's most important speeches
were delivered. The three on the agrarian proposals of Rullus
present him to us for the first time as discussing an important
question of home politics, the disposal of the ager publicus, a
question which had become again prominent owing to the great
additions made to it by the confiscations of Sulla. He also
defended C. Rabirius, prosecuted by Iulius Cæsar for the murder
of Saturninus as long ago as b.c. 100, and later in the year
defended Murena on a charge of ambitus. Finally, the three
Catilinarian speeches illustrate the event which coloured the
whole of Cicero's life. In b.c. 62 his brother Quintus was prætor
and Cicero defended in his court P. Sulla, accused of complicity
with Catiline. On the 29th of December (b.c. 63) the tribune Q.
Cæcilius Metellus Nepos prevented Cicero from making a
speech when laying down his consulship, and went on to
propose summoning Pompey to Rome, "to protect the lives of
the citizens." This led to scenes of violence, and Metellus fled to
Pompey, who reached Italy late in the year b.c. 62 from the East.

XII (f v, 7)
TO CN. POMPEIUS MAGNUS

Rome

M. Tullius Cicero, son of Marcus, greets Cn. Pompeius, son of Cneius,
Imperator.
If you and the army are well I shall be glad. From your official b.c. 62.
despatch I have, in common with everyone else, received the æt. 44
liveliest satisfaction; for you have given us that strong hope of
peace, of which, in sole reliance on you, I was assuring everyone. But I
must inform you that your old enemies—now posing as your friends—have
received a stunning blow by this despatch, and, being disappointed in the
high hopes they were entertaining, are thoroughly depressed. Though your
private letter to me contained a somewhat slight expression of your
affection, yet I can assure you it gave me pleasure: for there is nothing in
which I habitually find greater satisfaction than in the consciousness of
serving my friends; and if on any occasion I do not meet with an adequate
return, I am not at all sorry to have the balance of kindness in my favour. Of
this I feel no doubt—even if my extraordinary zeal in your behalf has failed
to unite you to me—that the interests of the state will certainly effect a
mutual attachment and coalition between us. To let you know, however,
what I missed in your letter I will write with the candour which my own
disposition and our common friendship demand. I did expect some
congratulation in your letter on my achievements, for the sake at once of the
ties between us and of the Republic. This I presume to have been omitted
by you from a fear of hurting anyone's feelings. But let me tell you that
what I did for the salvation of the country is approved by the judgment and
testimony of the whole world. You are a much greater man than Africanus,
but I am not much inferior to Lælius either; and when you come home you
will recognize that I have acted with such prudence and spirit, that you will

not be ashamed of being coupled with me in politics as well as in private
friendship.

XIII (f v, i)
Q. METELLUS CELER TO CICERO

Cisalpine Gaul

Q. Metellus Celer, son of Quintus, proconsul, greets M. Tullius Cicero.[57]
If you are well I am glad. I had thought, considering our mutual b.c. 62.
regard and the reconciliation effected between us, that I was not æt. 44
likely to be held up to ridicule in my absence, nor my brother
attacked by you in his civil existence and property for the sake of a mere
word. If his own high character was not a sufficient protection to him, yet
either the position of our family, or my own loyal conduct to you and the
Republic, ought to have been sufficient to support him. As it is, I see that he
has been ruined and I abandoned by the last people in the world who ought
to have done so. I am accordingly in sorrow and wearing mourning dress,
while actually in command of a province and army and conducting a war.
And seeing that your conduct in this affair has neither been reasonable nor
in accordance with the milder methods of old times, you must not be
surprised if you live to repent it. I did not expect to find you so fickle
towards me and mine. For myself, meanwhile, neither family sorrow nor ill-
treatment by any individual shall withdraw me from the service of the state.

XIV (f v, 2)
TO Q. METELLUS (IN CISALPINE GAUL)

Rome

M. Tullius, son of Marcus, to Q. Metellus Celer, son of Quintus, proconsul,
wishes health.
If you and the army are well I shall be glad. You say in your letter b.c. 62,
that you "thought, considering our mutual regard and the æt. 44
reconciliation effected between us, that you were not likely to be
held up to ridicule by me." To what you refer I do not clearly understand,
but I suspect that you have been informed that, while arguing in the senate
that there were many who were annoyed at my having saved the state, I said
that your relations, whose wishes you had been unable to withstand, had
induced you to pass over in silence what you had made up your mind you
ought to say in the senate in my praise. But while saying so I also added this
—that the duty of supporting the Republic had been so divided between us
that I was defending the city from internal treachery and the crime of its
own citizens, you Italy from armed enemies and covert conspiracy;[58] yet
that this association in a task so noble and so glorious had been imperilled
by your relations, who, while you had been complimented by me in the
fullest and most laudatory terms, had been afraid of any display of mutual
regard on your part being put to my credit. As this sentence betrayed how
much I had looked forward to your speech, and how mistaken I had been in
that expectation, my speech caused some amusement, and was received
with a moderate amount of laughter; but the laugh was not against you, it
was rather at my mistake, and at the open and naïve confession of my
eagerness to be commended by you. Surely it cannot but be a compliment
to you that in the hour of my greatest triumph and glory I yet wished for
some testimony of approval from your lips. As to your expression,
"considering our mutual regard"—I don't know your idea of what is
"mutual" in friendship; mine is an equal interchange of good feeling. Now

if I were to mention that I passed over a province for your sake, you might
think me somewhat insincere; for, in point of fact, it suited my convenience,
and I feel more and more every day of my life the advantage and pleasure
which I have received from that decision. But this I do say—the moment I
had announced in public meeting my refusal of a province, I began at once
thinking how I might hand it on to you. I say nothing as to the
circumstances of your allotment: I only wish you to suspect that nothing
was done in that matter by my colleague without my cognizance. Recall the
other circumstances: how promptly I summoned the senate on that day after
the lots had been drawn, at what a length I spoke about you. You yourself
said at the time that my speech was not merely complimentary to you, but
absolutely a reflexion on your colleagues. Farther, the decree of the senate
passed on that day has such a preamble that, so long as it is extant, there can
never be any doubt of my services to you. Subsequently, when you had
gone out of town, I would have you recall my motions in the senate, my
speeches in public meetings, my letters to yourself. And having reviewed all
these together, I would like you to judge yourself whether you think that
your approach to Rome the last time you came quite shewed an adequate
return for all these services.[59] Again, as to your expression, "the
reconciliation effected between us"—I do not understand why you speak of
"reconciliation" in the case of a friendship that had never been broken. As to
what you say, that your brother Metellus ought not "to have been attacked
by me for a mere word," in the first place I would like to assure you that
your feeling and fraternal partiality—so full of human kindness and natural
affection—meet with my warmest approbation; in the next place I must
claim your indulgence if I have in any matter opposed your brother in the
interests of the Republic, for my devotion to the Republic is paramount. If,
however, it is my personal safety that I have defended against a most
ruthless assault of his, I think you should be content that I make no
complaint even to you of your brother's injurious conduct. Now, when I had
become aware that he was deliberately making every preparation to use his
tribunician office to my ruin, I appealed to your wife Claudia[60] and your
sister Mucia[61] (of whose kindness to me for the sake of my friendship with
Pompey I had satisfied myself by many instances) to deter him from that
injurious conduct. And yet, as I am sure you have heard, on the last day of
December he inflicted upon me—a consul and the preserver of my country
—an indignity such as was never inflicted upon the most disloyal citizen in

the humblest office: that is to say, he deprived me when laying down my
office of the privilege of addressing the people—an indignity, however,
which after all redounded to my honour. For, upon his forbidding me to do
anything but take the oath, I pronounced an oath at once the most absolutely
true and the most glorious in a loud voice—an oath which the people swore
also in a loud voice to be absolutely true. Though I had actually suffered
this signal indignity, I yet on that same day sent common friends to
Metellus to persuade him to alter his resolution; to whom he answered that
he was no longer free to do so. And, in fact, a short time previously he had
said in a public meeting that a man who had punished others without trial
ought not himself to be allowed the privilege of speech. What a model of
consistency! What an admirable citizen! So he deemed the man who had
saved the senate from massacre, the city from the incendiary, Italy from
war, deserving of the same penalty as that inflicted by the senate, with the
unanimous approval of all loyal citizens, upon those who had intended to
set fire to the city, butcher magistrates and senate, and stir up a formidable
war! Accordingly, I did withstand your brother Metellus to his face: for on
the 1st of January, in the senate, I maintained a debate with him on the state
of the Republic, such as taught him that he had to contend with a man of
courage and firmness. On the 3rd of January,[62] on again opening the
debate, he kept harping on me and threatening me at every third word of his
speech; nor could any intention be more deliberate than his was to
overthrow me by any means in his power, not by calm and judicial
argument, but by violence and mere browbeating. If I had not shewn some
boldness and spirit in opposing his intemperate attack, would not everyone
have concluded that the courage I had displayed in my consulship was the
result of accident rather than design? If you did not know that Metellus was
contemplating these measures in regard to me, you must consider that you
have been kept in the dark by your brother on matters of the utmost
importance: if, on the other hand, he did intrust any part of his designs to
you, then surely I ought to be regarded by you as a man of placable and
reasonable temper for not addressing a word of reproach to you even on
such occurrences as these. Understanding then that it was by no "mere
word" (as you express it) of Metellus that I was roused, but by his
deliberate policy and extraordinary animosity towards me, next observe my
forbearance—if "forbearance" is the name to be given to irresolution and
laxity under a most galling indignity. I never once delivered a vote in a

speech against your brother: every time a motion was before the house I
assented without rising to those whose proposal appeared to me to be the
mildest. I will also add that, though in the circumstances there was no
obligation upon me to do so, yet so far from raising objections I actually did
my best to secure that my enemy, because he was your brother, should be
relieved from penalties by a decree of the senate.[63] Wherefore I have not
"attacked" your brother, but only defended myself from your brother's
attack; nor have I been "fickle" (to quote your word), but, on the contrary,
so constant, that I remained faithful to my friendship to you, though left
without any sign of kindness from you. For instance, at this moment,
though your letter amounts almost to a threat, I am writing back an answer
such as you see. I not only pardon your vexation, I even applaud it in the
highest degree; for my own heart tells me how strong is the influence of
fraternal affection. I ask you in your turn to put a liberal construction upon
my vexation, and to conclude that when attacked by your relatives with
bitterness, with brutality, and without cause, I not only ought not to retract
anything, but, in a case of that kind, should even be able to rely upon the aid
of yourself and your army. I have always wished to have you as a friend: I
have taken pains to make you understand that I am a warm friend to you. I
abide by that sentiment, and shall abide by it as long as you will let me; and
I shall more readily cease to be angry with your brother for love of you,
than I shall from anger with him abate in the smallest degree my kindness
for you.

XV (f v, 6)

TO P. SESTIUS[64] (IN MACEDONIA)

Rome, December

Decius the copyist has been to see me, and begged me to try and b.c. 62,
secure that no successor should be appointed to you this turn. æt. 44
Though I regarded him as a man of good character and attached to
you, yet, remembering the tenor of your previous letter to me, I could not
feel certain that the wishes of a cautious man of the world like yourself had
undergone so complete a change. But after your wife Cornelia had called on
Terentia, and I had had a conversation with Q. Cornelius, I took care to be
present at every meeting of the senate, and found that the greatest trouble
was to make Fufius the tribune, and the others to whom you had written,
believe me rather than your own letters. The whole business has, after all,
been postponed till January, but there is no difficulty about it. Roused by
your congratulations—for in a letter sometime ago you wished me good
luck on the completion of my purchase of a house from Crassus—I have
bought that very house for 3,500 sestertia (about £28,000), a good while
subsequent to your congratulation. Accordingly, you may now look upon
me as being so deeply in debt as to be eager to join a conspiracy if anyone
would admit me! But, partly from personal dislike they shut their doors in
my face and openly denounce me as the punisher of conspiracy, partly are
incredulous and afraid that I am setting a trap for them! Nor do they
suppose that a man can be short of money who has relieved the money-
lenders from a state of siege. In point of fact, money is plentiful at six per
cent., and the success of my measures has caused me to be regarded as a
good security. Your own house, and all the details of its construction, I have
examined and strongly approve. As for Antonius,[65] though everyone
notices his want of attention to my interests, I have nevertheless defended
him in the senate with the utmost earnestness and persistence, and have

made a strong impression on the senate by my language as well as by my
personal prestige. Pray write to me more frequently.

XVI (a i, 12)
The letters of this year are much concerned with the sacrilege b.c. 61.
of P. Clodius, who, it was alleged, had been detected in Coss., M.
disguise in the house of the Pontifex Maximus Iulius Cæsar, Papius Piso, M.
when his wife was celebrating the mysteries of the Bona Dea, Valerius
from which males were excluded. His trial was made the Messalla.
occasion of bitter party struggles, and by giving evidence in
contradiction of Clodius's alibi Cicero incurred his enmity, and
eventually, therefore, his own exile. Quintus is proprætor in
Asia, Cæsar in Spain. Pompey reached Rome early this year.
The ordo equester is much irritated with the senate on the
question of the contracts for the collection of the Asiatic taxes.

TO ATTICUS (IN EPIRUS)

Rome, 1 January

The Teucris[66] business hangs fire, and Cornelius has not called b.c. 61,
on Terentia since. I suppose I must have recourse to Considius, æt. 45
Axius, and Selicius:[67] for his nearest relations can't get a penny
out of Cæcilius[68] under twelve per cent. But to return to my first remark: I
never saw anything more shameless, artful, and dilatory. "I am on the point
of sending my freedman," "I have commissioned Titus"—excuses and
delays at every turn! But perhaps it is a case of l'homme propose,[69] for
Pompey's advance couriers tell me that he means to move in the senate that
a successor to Antonius ought to be named, and the prætor intends to bring
the proposal before the people at the same time. The facts are such that I
cannot defend him in view of the opinion either of the aristocrats or the
people, and, what is more than anything else, that I have no wish to do so.
For a thing has happened into the truth of which I charge you to look
thoroughly. I have a freedman, who is a worthless fellow enough; I mean
Hilarus, an accountant and a client of your own. The interpreter Valerius

gives me this information about him, and Thyillus writes me word that he
has been told the same story: that the fellow is with Antonius, and that
Antonius, in exacting money payments, frequently remarks that a part is
being collected for me, and that I have sent a freedman to look after our
common interests. I felt exceedingly disturbed, and yet could not believe it;
but at any rate there has been some gossip of the sort. Pray look into the
whole matter, learn the truth, find out the author, and get the empty-headed
idiot out of the country, if you possibly can. Valerius mentions Cn. Plancius
as the origin of this gossip. I trust you thoroughly to investigate and find out
what is at the bottom of it. I have good reason to believe that Pompey is
most kindly disposed to me. His divorce of Mucia is strongly approved.[70] I
suppose you have heard that P. Clodius, son of Appius, was caught in
woman's clothes at Gaius Cæsar's house, while the state function was going
on, and that he was saved and got out by means of a maid-servant; and that
the affair is causing immense scandal. I feel sure you will be sorry for it.[71]
I have nothing else to tell you. And, indeed, at the moment of writing, I am
in considerable distress: for a delightful youth, my reader Sosthenes, has
just died, and his death has affected me more than that of a slave should, I
think, do. Pray write often. If you have no news, write just what comes
uppermost.
1 January, in the consulship of M. Messalla and M. Piso.

XVII (f v, 5)
TO C. ANTONIUS (IN MACEDONIA)

Rome, January

M. Cicero wishes health to Gaius Antonius, son of Marcus, Imperator.
Though I had resolved to write you nothing but formal letters of b.c. 61,
introduction (not because I felt that they had much weight with æt. 45
you, but to avoid giving those who asked me for them an idea that
there had been any diminution in our friendship), yet since Titus Pomponius
is starting for your province, who knows better than anyone else all that I
feel and have done for you, who desires your friendship and is most
devotedly attached to me, I thought I must write something, especially as I
had no other way of satisfying Pomponius himself. Were I to ask from you
services of the greatest moment, it ought not to seem surprising to anyone:
for you have not wanted from me any that concerned your interests, honour,
or position. That no return has been made by you for these you are the best
witness: that something even of a contrary nature has proceeded from you I
have been told by many. I say "told," for I do not venture to say
"discovered,"[72] lest I should chance to use the word which people tell me
is often falsely attributed to me by you. But the story which has reached my
ears I would prefer your learning from Pomponius (who was equally hurt
by it) rather than from my letter. How singularly loyal my feelings have
been to you the senate and Roman people are both witnesses. How far you
have been grateful to me you may yourself estimate: how much you owe
me the rest of the world estimates. I was induced to do what I did for you at
first by affection, and afterwards by consistency. Your future, believe me,
stands in need of much greater zeal on my part, greater firmness and greater
labour.[73] These labours, unless it shall appear that I am throwing away and
wasting my pains, I shall support with all the strength I have; but if I see
that they are not appreciated, I shall not allow you—the very person
benefited[74]—to think me a fool for my pains. What the meaning of all this

is you will be able to learn from Pomponius. In commending Pomponius to
you, although I am sure you will do anything in your power for his own
sake, yet I do beg that if you have any affection for me left, you will display
it all in Pomponius's business. You can do me no greater favour than that.

XVIII (a 1, 13)
TO ATTICUS (IN EPIRUS)

Rome, 27 January

I have now received three letters from you—one by the hands of b.c. 61,
M. Cornelius, which you gave him, I think, at Three Taverns; a æt. 45
second which your host at Canusium delivered to me; a third
dated, according to you, from on board your pinnace, when the cable was
already slipped.[75] They were all three, to use a phrase from the schools of
rhetoric flavoured with the salt of learning, and illumined with the marks of
affection. In these letters, indeed, I am urgently pressed by you to send
answers, but what renders me rather dilatory in this respect is the difficulty
of finding a trustworthy carrier. How few of these gentry are able to convey
a letter rather weightier than usual without lightening it by skimming its
contents! Besides, I do not always care to send[76] whenever anyone is
starting for Epirus: for I suppose that, having offered victims before your
Amaltheia,[77] you at once started for the siege of Sicyon. And yet I am not
even certain when you start to visit Antonius or how much time you are
devoting to Epirus. Accordingly, I don't venture to trust either Achæans or
Epirotes with a letter somewhat more outspoken than usual. Now some
events have occurred since you left me worth my writing to you, but they
must not be trusted to the risk of a letter being lost, opened, or intercepted.
Well, then, to begin with: I was not called upon to speak first, and the
pacifier of the Allobroges[78] was preferred to me, and though this met with
some murmurs of disapprobation from the senate, I was not sorry it was
done. For I am thereby freed from any obligation to shew respect to an ill-
conditioned man, and am at liberty to support my position in the Republic
in spite of him. Besides, the second place has a dignity almost equal to that
of princeps senatus, and does not put one under too much of an obligation
to the consul. The third called on was Catulus; the fourth, if you want to go
still farther, Hortensius. The consul himself[79] is a man of a small and ill-

regulated mind, a mere buffoon of that splenetic kind which raises a laugh
even in the absence of wit: it is his face rather than his facetiousness[80] that
causes merriment: he takes practically no part in public business, and is
quite alienated from the Optimates. You need expect no service to the state
from him, for he has not the will to do any, nor fear any damage, for he
hasn't the courage to inflict it. His colleague, however, treats me with great
distinction, and is also a zealous supporter of the loyalist party. For the
present their disagreement has not come to much; but I fear that this taint
may spread farther. For I suppose you have heard that when the state
function was being performed in Cæsar's house a man in woman's dress got
in,[81] and that the Vestals having performed the rite again, mention was
made of the matter in the senate by Q. Cornificius—he was the first, so
don't think that it was one of us consulars—and that on the matter being
referred by a decree of the senate to the [Virgins and] pontifices, they
decided that a sacrilege had been committed: that then, on a farther decree
of the senate, the consuls published a bill: and that Cæsar divorced his wife.
On this question Piso, from friendship for P. Clodius, is doing his best to get
the bill promulgated by himself (though in accordance with a decree of the
senate and on a point of religion) rejected. Messalla as yet is strongly for
severe measures. The loyalists hold aloof owing to the entreaties of Clodius:
bands of ruffians are being got together: I myself, at first a stern Lycurgus,
am becoming daily less and less keen about it: Cato is hot and eager. In
short, I fear that between the indifference of the loyalists and the support of
the disloyal it may be the cause of great evils to the Republic. However,
your great friend[82]—do you know whom I mean?—of whom you said in
your letter that, "not venturing to blame me, he was beginning to be
complimentary," is now to all appearance exceedingly fond of me,
embraces me, loves and praises me in public, while in secret (though unable
to disguise it) he is jealous of me. No good-breeding, no
straightforwardness, no political morality, no distinction, no courage, no
liberality! But on these points I will write to you more minutely at another
time; for in the first place I am not yet quite sure about them, and in the
next place I dare not intrust a letter on such weighty matters to such a casual
nobody's son as this messenger.
The prætors have not yet drawn their lots for the provinces. The matter
remains just where you left it. The description of the scenery of Misenum

and Puteoli which you ask for I will include in my speech.[83] I had already
noticed the mistake in the date, 3rd of December. The points in my speeches
which you praise, believe me, I liked very much myself, but did not venture
to say so before. Now, however, as they have received your approval, I
think them much more "Attic" than ever. To the speech in answer to
Metellus[84] I have made some additions. The book shall be sent you, since
affection for me gives you a taste for rhetoric. What news have I for you?
Let me see. Oh, yes! The consul Messalla has bought Antonius's house for
3,400 sestertia (about £27,200). What is that to me? you will say. Why, thus
much. The price has convinced people that I made no bad bargain, and they
begin to understand that in making a purchase a man may properly use his
friends' means to get what suits his position. The Teucris affair drags on, yet
I have hopes. Pray settle the business you have in hand. You shall have a
more outspoken letter soon.
27 January, in the consulship of M. Messalla and M. Piso.

XIX (a i, 14)
TO ATTICUS (IN EPIRUS)

Rome, 13 February

I fear it may seem affectation to tell you how occupied I have b.c. 61,
been; but I am so distracted with business that I have only just æt. 45
found time for this short letter, and that has been stolen from the
most urgent engagements. I have already described to you Pompey's first
public speech—it did not please the poor, nor satisfy the disloyal, nor find
favour with the wealthy, nor appear sound to the loyalists; accordingly, he is
down in the world.[85] Presently, on the instigation of the consul Piso, that
most insignificant of tribunes, Fufius, brought Pompey on to the platform.
The meeting was in the circus Flaminius, and there was in the same place
that day a crowd of market people—a kind of tiers état.[86] He asked him to
say whether he approved of the jurymen being selected by the prætor, to
form a panel for the prætor himself to employ. That was the regulation
made by the senate in the matter of Clodius's sacrilege. Thereupon Pompey
made a highly "aristocratic" speech, and replied (and at great length) that in
all matters the authority of the senate was of the greatest weight in his eyes
and had always been so. Later on the consul Messalla in the senate asked
Pompey his opinion as to the sacrilege and the bill that had been published.
His speech in the senate amounted to a general commendation of all decrees
of the house, and when he sat down he said to me, "I think my answer
covers your case also."[87] When Crassus observed that Pompey had got a
cheer from the idea in men's minds that he approved my consulship, he rose
also to his feet and delivered a speech in the most complimentary terms on
my consulship, going so far as to say that he owed it to me that he was still
a senator, a citizen, nay, a free man; and that he never beheld wife, home, or
country without beholding the fruits of my conduct. In short: that whole
topic, which I am wont to paint in various colours in my speeches (of which
you are the Aristarchus), the fire, the sword—you know my paint-pots—he

elaborated to the highest pitch. I was sitting next to Pompey. I noticed that
he was agitated, either at Crassus earning the gratitude which he had
himself neglected, or to think that my achievements were, after all, of such
magnitude that the senate was so glad to hear them praised, especially by a
man who was the less under an obligation to praise me, because in
everything I ever wrote[88] my praise of Pompey was practically a reflexion
on him. This day has brought me very close to Crassus, and yet in spite of
all I accepted with pleasure any compliment—open or covert—from
Pompey. But as for my own speech, good heavens! how I did "put it on" for
the benefit of my new auditor Pompey! If I ever did bring every art into
play, I did then—period, transition, enthymeme, deduction—everything. In
short, I was cheered to the echo. For the subject of my speech was the
dignity of the senate, its harmony with the equites, the unanimity of Italy,
the dying embers of the conspiracy, the fall in prices, the establishment of
peace. You know my thunder when these are my themes. It was so loud, in
fact, that I may cut short my description, as I think you must have heard it
even in Epirus. The state of things at Rome is this: the senate is a perfect
Areopagus. You cannot conceive anything firmer, more grave, or more
high-spirited. For when the day came for proposing the bill in accordance
with the vote of the senate, a crowd of our dandies with their chin-tufts
assembled, all the Catiline set, with Curio's girlish son at their head, and
implored the people to reject it. Moreover, Piso the consul, who formally
introduced the bill, spoke against it. Clodius's hired ruffians had filled up
the entrances to the voting boxes. The voting tickets were so manipulated
that no "ayes" were distributed. Hereupon imagine Cato hurrying to the
rostra, delivering an admirable invective against the consul, if we can call
that an "invective" which was really a speech of the utmost weight and
authority, and in fact containing the most salutary advice. He is followed to
the same effect by your friend Hortensius, and many loyalists besides,
among whom, however, the contribution of Favonius was conspicuous. By
this rally of the Optimates the comitia is dissolved, the senate summoned.
On the question being put in a full house—in spite of the opposition of Piso,
and in spite of Clodius throwing himself at the feet of the senators one after
the other—that the consuls should exhort the people to pass the bill, about
fifteen voted with Curio, who was against any decree being passed; on the
other side there were fully four hundred. So the vote passed. The tribune
Fufius then gave in.[89] Clodius delivered some wretched speeches to the

people, in which he bestowed some injurious epithets on Lucullus,
Hortensius, C. Piso, and the consul Messalla; me he only charged with
having "discovered" everything.[90] In regard to the assignation of provinces
to the prætors, the hearing legations, and other business, the senate voted
that nothing should be brought before it till the bill had been brought before
the people. There's the state of things at Rome for you. Yet pray listen to
this one thing more which has surpassed my hopes. Messalla is a
superlatively good consul, courageous, firm, painstaking; he praises, shows
attachment to, and imitates me. That other one (Piso) is the less
mischievous because of one vice—he is lazy, sleepy, unbusiness-like, an
utter fainéant, but in intention he is so disaffected that he has begun to
loathe Pompey since he made the speech in which some praise was
bestowed on the senate. Accordingly, he has alienated all the loyalists to a
remarkable degree. And his action is not dictated by love for Clodius more
than by a taste for a profligate policy and a profligate party. But he has
nobody among the magistrates like himself, with the single exception of the
tribune Fufius. The tribunes are excellent, and in Cornutus we have a quasi-
Cato. Can I say more?

Now to return to private matters. "Teucris" has fulfilled her promise.[91]
Pray execute the commission you undertook. My brother Quintus, who
purchased the remaining three-fourths of the house in the Argiletum for 725
sestertia (about £5,800), is now trying to sell his Tusculan property, in order
to purchase, if he can, the town house of Pacilius. Make it up with
Lucceius! I see that he is all agog to stand for the consulship. I will do my
best. Be careful to let me know exactly how you are, where you are, and
how your business goes on.
13 February.

XX (a i, 15)
TO ATTICUS (IN EPIRUS)

Rome, 15 March

You have heard that my dearest brother Quintus has got Asia; for I b.c. 61,
do not doubt that rumour has conveyed the news to you quicker æt. 45
than a letter from any of us. Now then, considering how desirous
of a good reputation he and I have ever been, and how unusually
Philhellenic we are and have the reputation of being, and considering how
many there are whose enmity we have incurred for the sake of the Republic,
"call to mind all your valour,"[92] to secure us the praise and affection of all
concerned. I will write at greater length to you on these points in the letter
which I shall give to Quintus himself.[93] Please let me know what you have
done about the business I confided to you, and also in your own affair; for I
have had no letter from you since you left Brundisium. I am very anxious to
hear how you are.
15 March.

XXI (a i, 16)
TO ATTICUS

Rome (May)

You ask me what has happened about the trial, the result of which b.c. 61,
was so contrary to the general expectation, and at the same time æt. 45
you want to know how I came to make a worse fight of it than
usual. I will answer the last first, after the manner of Homer.[94] The fact is
that, so long as I had to defend the authority of the senate,[95] I battled with
such gallantry and vigour that there were shouts of applause and crowds
round me in the house ringing with my praise. Nay, if you ever thought that
I shewed courage in political business, you certainly would have admired
my conduct in that cause. For when the culprit had betaken himself to
public meetings, and had made an invidious use of my name, immortal
gods! What battles! What havoc! What sallies I made upon Piso, Curio, on
the whole of that set! How I fell upon the old men for their instability, on
the young for their profligacy! Again and again, so help me heaven! I
regretted your absence not only as the supporter of my policy, but as the
spectator also of my admirable fighting. However, when Hortensius hit on
the idea of a law as to the sacrilege being proposed by the tribune Fufius, in
which there was no difference from the bill of the consul except as to the
kind of jurymen—on that point, however, the whole question turned—and
got it carried by sheer fighting, because he had persuaded himself and
others that he could not get an acquittal no matter who were the jurymen, I
drew in my sails, seeing the neediness of the jurors, and gave no evidence
beyond what was so notorious and well attested that I could not omit it.[96]
Therefore, if you ask the reason of the acquittal—to return at length to the
former of the two questions—it was entirely the poverty and low character
of the jury. But that this was possible was entirely the result of Hortensius's
policy. In his alarm lest Fufius should veto the law which was to be
proposed in virtue of a senatorial decree, he failed to see that it was better

that the culprit should be left under a cloud of disgrace and dishonour than
that he should be trusted to the discretion of a weak jury. But in his
passionate resentment he hastened to bring the case into court, saying that a
leaden sword was good enough to cut his throat. But if you want to know
the history of the trial, with its incredible verdict, it was such that
Hortensius's policy is now blamed by other people after the event, though I
disapproved of it from the first. When the rejection of jurors had taken
place, amidst loud cheers and counter-cheers—the accuser like a strict
censor rejecting the most worthless, the defendant like a kind-hearted
trainer of gladiators all the best—as soon as the jury had taken their seats,
the loyalists at once began to feel distrust. There never was a seedier lot
round a table in a gambling hell. Senators under a cloud, equites out at
elbows, tribunes who were not so much made of money as "collectors" of it,
according to their official title.[97] However, there were a few honest men in
the panel, whom he had been unable to drive off it by rejection, and they
took their seats among their uncongenial comrades with gloomy looks and
signs of emotion, and were keenly disgusted at having to rub elbows with
such rascals. Hereupon, as question after question was referred to the panel
in the preliminary proceedings, the severity of the decisions passes belief:
there was no disagreement in voting, the defendant carried none of his
points, while the accuser got even more than he asked. He was triumphant.
Need I say more? Hortensius would have it that he was the only one of us
who had seen the truth. There was not a man who did not think it
impossible for him to stand his trial without being condemned a thousand
times over. Farther, when I was produced as a witness, I suppose you have
been told how the shouts of Clodius's supporters were answered by the jury
rising to their feet to gather round me, and openly to offer their throats to P.
Clodius in my defence. This seemed to me a greater compliment than the
well-known occasion when your fellow citizens[98] stopped Xenocrates
from taking an oath in the witness-box, or when, upon the accounts of
Metellus Numidicus[99] being as usual handed round, a Roman jury refused
to look at them. The compliment paid me, I repeat, was much greater.
Accordingly, as the jurymen were protecting me as the mainstay of the
country, it was by their voices that the defendant was overwhelmed, and
with him all his advocates suffered a crushing blow. Next day my house
was visited by as great a throng as that which escorted me home when I laid
down the consulship. Our eminent Areopagites then exclaimed that they

would not come into court unless a guard was assigned them. The question
was put to the whole panel: there was only one vote against the need of a
guard. The question is brought before the senate: the decree is passed in the
most solemn and laudatory terms: the jurymen are complimented: the
magistrates are commissioned to carry it out: no one thought that the fellow
would venture on a defence. "Tell me, ye Muses, now how first the fire
befell!"[100] You know Bald-head, the Nanneian millionaire,[101] that
panegyrist of mine, whose complimentary oration I have already mentioned
to you in a letter. In two days' time, by the agency of a single slave, and one,
too, from a school of gladiators, he settled the whole business—he
summoned them to an interview, made a promise, offered security, paid
money down. Still farther, good heavens, what a scandal! even favours from
certain ladies, and introductions to young men of rank, were thrown in as a
kind of pourboire to some of the jurors. Accordingly, with the loyalists
holding completely aloof, with the forum full of slaves, twenty-five jurors
were yet found so courageous that, though at the risk of their lives, they
preferred even death to producing universal ruin. There were thirty-one who
were more influenced by famine than fame. On seeing one of these latter
Catulus said to him, "Why did you ask us for a guard? Did you fear being
robbed of the money?" There you have, as briefly as I could put it, the
nature of the trial and the cause of the acquittal.
Next you want to know the present state of public affairs and of my own.
That settlement of the Republic—firmly established by my wisdom, as you
thought, as I thought by God's—which seemed fixed on a sure foundation
by the unanimity of all loyalists and the influence of my consulship—that I
assure you, unless some God take compassion on us, has by this one verdict
escaped from our grasp: if "verdict" it is to be called, when thirty of the
most worthless and dissolute fellows in Rome for a paltry sum of money
obliterate every principle of law and justice, and when that which every
man—I had almost said every animal—knows to have taken place, a
Thalna, a Plautus, and a Spongia, and other scum of that sort decide not to
have taken place. However, to console you as to the state of the Republic,
rascaldom is not as cheerful and exultant in its victory as the disloyal hoped
after the infliction of such a wound upon the Republic. For they fully
expected that when religion, morality, the honour of juries, and the prestige
of the senate had sustained such a crushing fall, victorious profligacy and

lawless lust would openly exact vengeance from all the best men for the
mortification which the strictness of my consulship had branded in upon all
the worst. And it is once more I—for I do not feel as if I were boasting
vaingloriously when speaking of myself to you, especially in a letter not
intended to be read by others—it was I once more, I say, who revived the
fainting spirits of the loyalists, cheering and encouraging each personally.
Moreover, by my denunciations and invectives against those corrupt jurors I
left none of the favourers and supporters of that victory a word to say for
themselves. I gave the consul Piso no rest anywhere, I got him deprived of
Syria, which had been already plighted to him, I revived the fainting spirit
of the senate and recalled it to its former severity. I overwhelmed Clodius in
the senate to his face, both in a set speech, very weighty and serious, and
also in an interchange of repartees, of which I append a specimen for your
delectation. The rest lose all point and grace without the excitement of the
contest, or, as you Greeks call it, the ἀγών. Well, at the meeting of the
senate on the 15th of May, being called on for my opinion, I spoke at
considerable length on the high interests of the Republic, and brought in the
following passage by a happy inspiration: "Do not, Fathers, regard
yourselves as fallen utterly, do not faint, because you have received one
blow. The wound is one which I cannot disguise, but which I yet feel sure
should not be regarded with extreme fear: to fear would shew us to be the
greatest of cowards, to ignore it the greatest of fools. Lentulus was twice
acquitted, so was Catiline, a third such criminal has now been let loose by
jurors upon the Republic. You are mistaken, Clodius: it is not for the city
but for the prison that the jurors have reserved you, and their intention was
not to retain you in the state, but to deprive you of the privilege of exile.
Wherefore, Fathers, rouse up all your courage, hold fast to your high
calling. There still remains in the Republic the old unanimity of the
loyalists: their feelings have been outraged, their resolution has not been
weakened: no fresh mischief has been done, only what was actually existing
has been discovered. In the trial of one profligate many like him have been
detected."—But what am I about? I have copied almost a speech into a
letter. I return to the duel of words. Up gets our dandified young gentleman,
and throws in my teeth my having been at Baiæ. It wasn't true, but what did
that matter to him? "It is as though you were to say," replied I, "that I had
been in disguise!" "What business," quoth he, "has an Arpinate with hot
baths?" "Say that to your patron," said I, "who coveted the watering-place

of an Arpinate."[102] For you know about the marine villa. "How long," said
he, "are we to put up with this king?" "Do you mention a king," quoth I,
"when Rex[103] made no mention of you?" He, you know, had swallowed
the inheritance of Rex in anticipation. "You have bought a house," says he.
"You would think that he said," quoth I, "you have bought a jury." "They
didn't trust you on your oath," said he. "Yes," said I, "twenty-five jurors did
trust me, thirty-one didn't trust you, for they took care to get their money
beforehand." Here he was overpowered by a burst of applause and broke
down without a word to say.
My own position is this: with the loyalists I hold the same place as when
you left town, with the tagrag and bobtail of the city I hold a much better
one than at your departure. For it does me no harm that my evidence
appears not to have availed. Envy has been let blood without causing pain,
and even more so from the fact that all the supporters of that flagitious
proceeding confess that a perfectly notorious fact has been hushed up by
bribing the jury. Besides, the wretched starveling mob, the blood-sucker of
the treasury, imagines me to be high in the favour of Magnus—and indeed
we have been mutually united by frequent pleasant intercourse to such an
extent, that our friends the boon companions of the conspiracy, the young
chin-tufts, speak of him in ordinary conversation as Gnæus Cicero.
Accordingly, both in the circus and at the gladiatorial games, I received a
remarkable ovation without a single cat-call. There is at present a lively
anticipation of the elections, in which, contrary to everybody's wishes, our
friend Magnus is pushing the claims of Aulus's son;[104] and in that matter
his weapons are neither his prestige nor his popularity, but those by which
Philip said that any fortress could be taken—if only an ass laden with gold
could make its way up into it. Farthermore, that precious consul, playing as
it were second fiddle to Pompey,[105] is said to have undertaken the business
and to have bribery agents at his house, which I don't believe. But two
decrees have already passed the house of an unpopular character, because
they are thought to be directed against the consul on the demand of Cato
and Domitius[106]—one that search should be allowed in magistrates'
houses, and a second, that all who had bribery agents in their houses were
guilty of treason. The tribune Lurco also, having entered on his office
irregularly in view of the Ælian law, has been relieved from the provisions
both of the Ælian and Fufian laws, in order to enable him to propose his law

on bribery, which he promulgated with correct auspices though a cripple.
[107]
Accordingly, the comitia have been postponed to the 27th of July.
There is this novelty in his bill, that a man who has promised money among
the tribes, but not paid it, is not liable, but, if he has paid, he is liable for life
to pay 3,000 sesterces to each tribe. I remarked that P. Clodius had obeyed
this law by anticipation, for he was accustomed to promise, and not pay.
But observe! Don't you see that the consulship of which we thought so
much, which Curio used of old to call an apotheosis, if this Afranius is
elected, will become a mere farce and mockery? Therefore I think one
should play the philosopher, as you in fact do, and not care a straw for your
consulships!
You say in your letter that you have decided not to go to Asia. For my part I
should have preferred your going, and I fear that there may be some
offence[108] given in that matter. Nevertheless, I am not the man to blame
you, especially considering that I have not gone to a province myself. I shall
be quite content with the inscriptions you have placed in your Amaltheium,
[109]
especially as Thyillus has deserted me and Archias written nothing
about me. The latter, I am afraid, having composed a Greek poem on the
Luculli, is now turning his attention to the Cæcilian drama.[110] I have
thanked Antonius on your account, and I have intrusted the letter to Mallius.
I have heretofore written to you more rarely because I had no one to whom
I could trust a letter, and was not sure of your address. I have puffed you
well. If Cincius should refer any business of yours to me, I will undertake it.
But at present he is more intent on his own business, in which I am
rendering him some assistance. If you mean to stay any length of time in
one place you may expect frequent letters from me: but pray send even
more yourself. I wish you would describe your Amaltheium to me, its
decoration and its plan; and send me any poems or stories you may have
about Amaltheia.[111] I should like to make a copy of it at Arpinum. I will
forward you something of what I have written. At present there is nothing
finished.

XXII (a i, 17)
TO ATTICUS (IN EPIRUS)

Rome, 5 December

Your letter, in which you inclose copies of his letters, has made b.c. 61,
me realize that my brother Quintus's feelings have undergone æt. 45
many alternations, and that his opinions and judgments have
varied widely from time to time.[112] This has not only caused me all the
pain which my extreme affection for both of you was bound to bring, but it
has also made me wonder what can have happened to cause my brother
Quintus such deep offence, or such an extraordinary change of feeling. And
yet I was already aware, as I saw that you also, when you took leave of me,
were beginning to suspect, that there was some lurking dissatisfaction, that
his feelings were wounded, and that certain unfriendly suspicions had sunk
deep into his heart. On trying on several previous occasions, but more
eagerly than ever after the allotment of his province, to assuage these
feelings, I failed to discover on the one hand that the extent of his offence
was so great as your letter indicates; but on the other I did not make as
much progress in allaying it as I wished. However, I consoled myself with
thinking that there would be no doubt of his seeing you at Dyrrachium, or
somewhere in your part of the country: and, if that happened, I felt sure and
fully persuaded that everything would be made smooth between you, not
only by conversation and mutual explanation, but by the very sight of each
other in such an interview. For I need not say in writing to you, who know it
quite well, how kind and sweet-tempered my brother is, as ready to forgive
as he is sensitive in taking offence. But it most unfortunately happened that
you did not see him anywhere. For the impression he had received from the
artifices of others had more weight with him than duty or relationship, or
the old affection so long existing between you, which ought to have been
the strongest influence of all. And yet, as to where the blame for this
misunderstanding resides, I can more easily conceive than write: since I am
afraid that, while defending my own relations, I should not spare yours. For

I perceive that, though no actual wound was inflicted by members of the
family, they yet could at least have cured it. But the root of the mischief in
this case, which perhaps extends farther than appears, I shall more
conveniently explain to you when we meet. As to the letter he sent to you
from Thessalonica,[113] and about the language which you suppose him to
have used both at Rome among your friends and on his journey, I don't
know how far the matter went, but my whole hope of removing this
unpleasantness rests on your kindness. For if you will only make up your
mind to believe that the best men are often those whose feelings are most
easily irritated and appeased, and that this quickness, so to speak, and
sensitiveness of disposition are generally signs of a good heart; and lastly—
and this is the main thing—that we must mutually put up with each other's
gaucheries (shall I call them?), or faults, or injurious acts, then these
misunderstandings will, I hope, be easily smoothed away. I beg you to take
this view, for it is the dearest wish of my heart (which is yours as no one
else's can be) that there should not be one of my family or friends who does
not love you and is not loved by you.
That part of your letter was entirely superfluous, in which you mention
what opportunities of doing good business in the provinces or the city you
let pass at other times as well as in the year of my consulship: for I am
thoroughly persuaded of your unselfishness and magnanimity, nor did I ever
think that there was any difference between you and me except in our
choice of a career. Ambition led me to seek official advancement, while
another and perfectly laudable resolution led you to seek an honourable
privacy. In the true glory, which is founded on honesty, industry, and piety, I
place neither myself nor anyone else above you. In affection towards
myself, next to my brother and immediate family, I put you first. For
indeed, indeed I have seen and thoroughly appreciated how your anxiety
and joy have corresponded with the variations of my fortunes. Often has
your congratulation added a charm to praise, and your consolation a
welcome antidote to alarm. Nay, at this moment of your absence, it is not
only your advice—in which you excel—but the interchange of speech—in
which no one gives me so much delight as you do—that I miss most, shall I
say in politics, in which circumspection is always incumbent on me, or in
my forensic labour, which I formerly sustained with a view to official
promotion, and nowadays to maintain my position by securing popularity,

or in the mere business of my family? In all these I missed you and our
conversations before my brother left Rome, and still more do I miss them
since. Finally, neither my work nor rest, neither my business nor leisure,
neither my affairs in the forum or at home, public or private, can any longer
do without your most consolatory and affectionate counsel and
conversation. The modest reserve which characterizes both of us has often
prevented my mentioning these facts; but on this occasion it was rendered
necessary by that part of your letter in which you expressed a wish to have
yourself and your character "put straight" and "cleared" in my eyes. Yet, in
the midst of all this unfortunate alienation and anger, there is one fortunate
circumstance—that your determination of not going to a province was
known to me and your other friends, and had been at various times before
distinctly expressed by yourself; so that your not being his guest may be
attributed to your personal tastes and judgments, not to the quarrel and
rupture between you. And so those ties which have been broken will be
restored, and ours which have been so religiously preserved will retain all
their old inviolability.
At Rome I find politics in a shaky condition; everything is unsatisfactory
and foreboding change. For I have no doubt you have been told that our
friends, the equites, are all but alienated from the senate. Their first
grievance was the promulgation of a bill on the authority of the senate for
the trial of such as had taken bribes for giving a verdict. I happened not to
be in the house when that decree was passed, but when I found that the
equestrian order was indignant at it, and yet refrained from openly saying
so, I remonstrated with the senate, as I thought, in very impressive
language, and was very weighty and eloquent considering the unsatisfactory
nature of my cause. But here is another piece of almost intolerable coolness
on the part of the equites, which I have not only submitted to, but have even
put in as good a light as possible! The companies which had contracted with
the censors for Asia complained that in the heat of the competition they had
taken the contract at an excessive price; they demanded that the contract
should be annulled. I led in their support, or rather, I was second, for it was
Crassus who induced them to venture on this demand. The case is
scandalous, the demand a disgraceful one, and a confession of rash
speculation. Yet there was a very great risk that, if they got no concession,
they would be completely alienated from the senate. Here again I came to

the rescue more than anyone else, and secured them a full and very friendly
house, in which I, on the 1st and 2nd of December, delivered long speeches
on the dignity and harmony of the two orders. The business is not yet
settled, but the favourable feeling of the senate has been made manifest: for
no one had spoken against it except the consul-designate, Metellus; while
our hero Cato had still to speak, the shortness of the day having prevented
his turn being reached. Thus I, in the maintenance of my steady policy,
preserve to the best of my ability that harmony of the orders which was
originally my joiner's work; but since it all now seems in such a crazy
condition, I am constructing what I may call a road towards the
maintenance of our power, a safe one I hope, which I cannot fully describe
to you in a letter, but of which I will nevertheless give you a hint. I cultivate
close intimacy with Pompey. I foresee what you will say. I will use all
necessary precautions, and I will write another time at greater length about
my schemes for managing the Republic. You must know that Lucceius has
it in his mind to stand for the consulship at once; for there are said to be
only two candidates in prospect. Cæsar is thinking of coming to terms with
him by the agency of Arrius, and Bibulus also thinks he may effect a
coalition with him by means of C. Piso.[114] You smile? This is no laughing
matter, believe me. What else shall I write to you? What? I have plenty to
say, but must put it off to another time. If you mean to wait till you hear, let
me know. For the moment I am satisfied with a modest request, though it is
what I desire above everything—that you should come to Rome as soon as
possible.
5 December.

XXIII (a i, 18)
This was the year in which Cæsar, returning from his b.c. 60.
proprætorship in Spain, found Pompey in difficulties with the Coss., Q.
senate (1) as to the confirmation en bloc of his acta in the Cæcilius
Metellus
East, (2) as to the assignation of lands to his veterans; and Celer, L.
being met with opposition himself as to the triumph that he Afranius.
claimed, and his candidatureship for the consulship, he formed
with Pompey and Crassus the agreement known as the first
triumvirate. Cicero saw his favourite political object, the
concordia ordinum, threatened by any opposition to the
triumvirate, which he yet distrusted as dangerous to the
constitution. We shall find him, therefore, vacillating between
giving his support to its policy or standing by the extreme
Optimates. P. Clodius is taking measures to be adopted into a
plebeian gens, in order to stand for the tribuneship. Quintus is
still in Asia. Pompey's triumph had taken place in the previous
September.

TO ATTICUS (IN EPIRUS)

Rome, 20 January

Believe me there is nothing at this moment of which I stand so b.c. 60,
much in need as a man with whom to share all that causes me æt. 46
anxiety: a man to love me; a man of sense to whom I can speak
without affectation, reserve, or concealment. For my brother is away—that
most open-hearted and affectionate of men. Metellus is not a human being,
but

"Mere sound and air, a howling wilderness."

While you, who have so often lightened my anxiety and my anguish of soul
by your conversation and advice, who are ever my ally in public affairs, my

confidant in all private business, the sharer in all my conversations and
projects—where are you? So entirely am I abandoned by all, that the only
moments of repose left me are those which are spent with my wife, pet
daughter, and sweet little Cicero. For as to those friendships with the great,
and their artificial attractions, they have indeed a certain glitter in the
outside world, but they bring no private satisfaction. And so, after a
crowded morning levée, as I go down to the forum surrounded by troops of
friends, I can find no one out of all that crowd with whom to jest freely, or
into whose ear I can breathe a familiar sigh. Therefore I wait for you, I long
for you, I even urge on you to come; for I have many anxieties, many
pressing cares, of which I think, if I once had your ears to listen to me, I
could unburden myself in the conversation of a single walk. And of my
private anxieties, indeed, I shall conceal all the stings and vexations, and
not trust them to this letter and an unknown letter-carrier. These, however—
for I don't want you to be made too anxious—are not very painful: yet they
are persistent and worrying, and are not put to rest by the advice or
conversation of any friend. But in regard to the Republic I have still the
same courage and purpose, though it has again and again of its own act
eluded treatment.[115] For should I put briefly what has occurred since you
left, you would certainly exclaim that the Roman empire cannot be
maintained much longer. Well, after your departure our first scene, I think,
was the appearance of the Clodian scandal, in which having, as I thought,
got an opportunity of pruning licentiousness and keeping our young men
within bounds, I exerted myself to the utmost, and lavished all the resources
of my intellect and genius, not from dislike to an individual, but from the
hope of not merely correcting, but of completely curing the state. The
Republic received a crushing blow when this jury was won over by money
and the opportunity of debauchery. See what has followed! We have had a
consul inflicted upon us, whom none except us philosophers can look at
without a sigh. What a blow that is! Though a decree of the senate has been
passed about bribery and the corruption of juries, no law has been carried;
the senate has been harassed to death, the Roman knights alienated. So that
one year has undermined two buttresses of the Republic, which owed their
existence to me, and me alone; for it has at once destroyed the prestige of
the senate and broken up the harmony of the orders. And now enter this
precious year! It was inaugurated by the suspension of the annual rites of
Iuventas;[116] for Memmius initiated M. Lucullus's wife in some rites of his

own! Our Menelaus, being annoyed at that, divorced his wife. Yet the old
Idæan shepherd had only injured Menelaus; our Roman Paris thought
Agamemnon as proper an object of injury as Menelaus.[117] Next there is a
certain tribune named C. Herennius, whom you, perhaps, do not even know
—and yet you may know him, for he is of your tribe, and his father Sextus
used to distribute money to your tribesmen—this person is trying to transfer
P. Clodius to the plebs, and is actually proposing a law to authorize the
whole people to vote in Clodius's affair in the campus.[118] I have given him
a characteristic reception in the senate, but he is the thickest-skinned fellow
in the world. Metellus is an excellent consul, and much attached to me, but
he has lowered his influence by promulgating (though only for form's sake)
an identical bill about Clodius. But the son of Aulus,[119] God in heaven!
What a cowardly and spiritless fellow for a soldier! How well he deserves
to be exposed, as he is, day after day to the abuse of Palicanus![120] Farther,
an agrarian law has been promulgated by Flavius, a poor production
enough, almost identical with that of Plotius. But meanwhile a genuine
statesman is not to be found, even "in a dream." The man who could be one,
my friend Pompey—for such he is, as I would have you know—defends his
twopenny embroidered toga[121] by saying nothing. Crassus never risks his
popularity by a word. The others you know without my telling you. They
are such fools that they seem to expect that, though the Republic is lost,
their fish-ponds will be safe. There is one man who does take some trouble,
but rather, as it seems to me, with consistency and honesty, than with either
prudence or ability—Cato. He has been for the last three months worrying
those unhappy publicani, who were formerly devoted to him, and refuses to
allow of an answer being given them by the senate. And so we are forced to
suspend all decrees on other subjects until the publicani have got their
answer. For the same reason I suppose even the business of the foreign
embassies will be postponed. You now understand in what stormy water we
are: and as from what I have written to you in such strong terms you have a
view also of what I have not written, come back to me, for it is time you
did. And though the state of affairs to which I invite you is one to be
avoided, yet let your value for me so far prevail, as to induce you to come
there even in these vexatious circumstances. For the rest I will take care that
due warning is given, and a notice put up in all places, to prevent you being
entered on the census as absent; and to get put on the census just before the

lustration is the mark of your true man of business.[122] So let me see you at
the earliest possible moment. Farewell.
20 January in the Consulship of Q. Metellus and L. Afranius.

XXIV (a i, 19)
TO ATTICUS (IN EPIRUS)

Rome, 15 March

It is not only if I had as much leisure as you, but also if I chose to b.c. 60,
send letters as short as yours usually are, should I easily beat you æt. 46
and be much the more regular in writing. But, in fact, it is only
one more item in an immense and inconceivable amount of business, that I
allow no letter to reach you from me without its containing some definite
sketch of events and the reflexions arising from it. And in writing to you, as
a lover of your country, my first subject will naturally be the state of the
Republic; next, as I am the nearest object of your affection, I will also write
about myself, and tell you what I think you will not be indisposed to know.
Well then, in public affairs for the moment the chief subject of interest is the
disturbance in Gaul. For the Ædui—"our brethren"[123]—have recently
fought a losing battle, and the Helvetii are undoubtedly in arms and making
raids upon our province.[124] The senate has decreed that the two consuls
should draw lots for the Gauls, that a levy should be held, all exemptions
from service be suspended, and legates with full powers be sent to visit the
states in Gaul, and see that they do not join the Helvetii. The legates are
Quintus Metellus Creticus,[125] L. Flaccus,[126] and lastly—a case of "rich
unguent on lentils"—Lentulus, son of Clodianus.[127] And while on this
subject I cannot omit mentioning that when among the consulars my name
was the first to come up in the ballot, a full meeting of the senate declared
with one voice that I must be kept in the city. The same occurred to Pompey
after me; so that we two appeared to be kept at home as pledges of the
safety of the Republic. Why should I look for the "bravos" of others when I
get these compliments at home? Well, the state of affairs in the city is as
follows. The agrarian law is being vehemently pushed by the tribune
Flavius, with the support of Pompey, but it has nothing popular about it
except its supporter. From this law I, with the full assent of a public

meeting, proposed to omit all clauses which adversely affected private
rights. I proposed to except from its operation such public land as had been
so in the consulship of P. Mucius and L. Calpurnius.[128] I proposed to
confirm the titles of holders of those to whom Sulla had actually assigned
lands. I proposed to retain the men of Volaterræ and Arretium—whose lands
Sulla had declared forfeited but had not allotted—in their holdings. There
was only one section in the bill that I did not propose to omit, namely, that
land should be purchased with this money from abroad, the proceeds of the
new revenues for the next five years.[129] But to this whole agrarian scheme
the senate was opposed, suspecting that some novel power for Pompey was
aimed at. Pompey, indeed, had set his heart on getting the law passed. I,
however, with the full approval of the applicants for land, maintained the
holdings of all private owners—for, as you know, the landed gentry form
the bulk of our party's forces—while I nevertheless satisfied the people and
Pompey (for I wanted to do that also) by the purchase clause; for, if that
was put on a sound footing, I thought that two advantages would accrue—
the dregs might be drawn from the city, and the deserted portions of Italy be
repeopled. But this whole business was interrupted by the war, and has
cooled off. Metellus is an exceedingly good consul, and much attached to
me. That other one is such a ninny that he clearly doesn't know what to do
with his purchase.[130] This is all my public news, unless you regard as
touching on public affairs the fact that a certain Herennius, a tribune, and a
fellow tribesman of yours—a fellow as unprincipled as he is needy—has
now begun making frequent proposals for transferring P. Clodius to the
plebs; he is vetoed by many of his colleagues. That is really, I think, all the
public news.
For my part, ever since I won what I may call the splendid and immortal
glory of the famous fifth of December[131] (though it was accompanied by
the jealousy and hostility of many), I have never ceased to play my part in
the Republic in the same lofty spirit, and to maintain the position I then
inaugurated and took upon myself. But when, first, by the acquittal of
Clodius I clearly perceived the insecurity and rotten state of the law courts;
and, secondly, when I saw that it took so little to alienate my friends the
publicani from the senate—though with me personally they had no quarrel;
and, thirdly, that the rich (I mean your friends the fish-breeders) did not
disguise their jealousy of me, I thought I must look out for some greater

security and stronger support. So, to begin with, I have brought the man
who had been too long silent on my achievements, Pompey himself, to such
a frame of mind as not once only in the senate, but many times and in many
words, to ascribe to me the preservation of this empire and of the world.
And this was not so important to me—for those transactions are neither so
obscure as to need testimony, nor so dubious as to need commendation—as
to the Republic; for there were certain persons base enough to think that
some misunderstanding would arise between me and Pompey from a
difference of opinion on these measures. With him I have united myself in
such close intimacy that both of us can by this union be better fortified in
his own views, and more secure in his political position. However, the
dislike of the licentious dandies, which had been roused against me, has
been so far softened by a conciliatory manner on my part, that they all
combine to show me marked attention. In fine, while avoiding churlishness
to anyone, I do not curry favour with the populace or relax any principle;
but my whole course of conduct is so carefully regulated, that, while
exhibiting an example of firmness to the Republic, in my own private
concerns—in view of the instability of the loyalists, the hostility of the
disaffected, and the hatred of the disloyal towards me—I employ a certain
caution and circumspection, and do not allow myself, after all, to be
involved in these new friendships so far but that the famous refrain of the
cunning Sicilian frequently sounds in my ears:[132]

"Keep sober and distrust: these wisdom's sinews!"

Of my course and way of life, therefore, you see, I think, what may be
called a sketch or outline. Of your own business, however, you frequently
write to me, but I cannot at the moment supply the remedy you require. For
that decree of the senate was passed with the greatest unanimity on the part
of the rank and file,[133] though without the support of any of us consulars.
For as to your seeing my name at the foot of the decree, you can ascertain
from the decree itself that the subject put to the vote at the time was a
different one, and that this clause about "free peoples" was added without
good reason. It was done by P. Servilius the younger,[134] who delivered his
vote among the last, but it cannot be altered after such an interval of time.
Accordingly, the meetings, which at first were crowded, have long ceased
to be held. If you have been able, notwithstanding, by your insinuating

address to get a trifle of money out of the Sicyonians, I wish you would let
me know.[135] I have sent you an account of my consulship written in
Greek. If there is anything in it which to a genuine Attic like yourself seems
to be un-Greek or unscholarly, I shall not say as Lucullus said to you (at
Panhormus, was it not?) about his own history, that he had interspersed
certain barbarisms and solecisms for the express purpose of proving that it
was the work of a Roman. No, if there is anything of that sort in my book, it
will be without my knowledge and against my will. When I have finished
the Latin version I will send it to you; and thirdly, you may expect a poem
on the subject, for I would not have any method of celebrating my praise
omitted by myself. In this regard pray do not quote "Who will praise his
sire?"[136] For if there is anything in the world to be preferred to this, let it
receive its due meed of praise, and I mine of blame for not selecting another
theme for my praise. However, what I write is not panegyric but history. My
brother Quintus clears himself to me in a letter, and asserts that he has never
said a disparaging word of you to anyone. But this we must discuss face to
face with the greatest care and earnestness: only do come to see me again at
last! This Cossinius, to whom I intrust my letter, seems to me a very good
fellow, steady, devoted to you, and exactly the sort of man which your letter
to me had described.
15 March.

XXV (a i, 20)
TO ATTICUS (IN EPIRUS)

Rome, 13 May

On my return to Rome from my villa at Pompeii on the 12th of b.c. 60,
May, our friend Cincius handed me your letter dated 13th æt. 46
February. It is this letter of yours which I will now proceed to
answer. And first let me say how glad I am that you have fully understood
my appreciation of you;[137] and next how excessively rejoiced I am that
you have been so extremely reasonable in regard to those particulars in
which you thought[138] that I and mine had behaved unkindly, or with
insufficient consideration for your feelings: and this I regard as a proof of
no common affection, and of the most excellent judgment and wisdom.
Wherefore, since you have written to me in a tone so delightful,
considerate, friendly and kind, that I not only have no call to press you any
farther, but can never even hope to meet from you or any other man with so
much gentleness and good nature, I think the very best course I can pursue
is not to say another word on the subject in my letters. When we meet, if the
occasion should arise, we will discuss it together.
As to what you say about politics, your suggestions indeed are both
affectionate and wise, and the course you suggest does not differ
substantially from my own policy—for I must neither budge an inch from
the position imposed upon me by my rank, nor must I without forces of my
own enter the lines of another, while that other, whom you mention in your
letter, has nothing large-minded about him, nothing lofty, nothing which is
not abject and time-serving. However, the course I took was, after all,
perhaps not ill-calculated for securing the tranquillity of my own life; but,
by heaven, I did greater service to the Republic than, by suppressing the
attacks of the disloyal, I did to myself, when I brought conviction home to
the wavering mind of a man of the most splendid fortune, influence and
popularity, and induced him to disappoint the disloyal and praise my acts.
Now if I had been forced to sacrifice consistency in this transaction, I
should not have thought anything worth that price; but the fact is that I have
so worked the whole business, that I did not seem to be less consistent from
my complacency to him, but that he appeared to gain in character by his
approbation of me. In everything else I am so acting, and shall continue so
to act, as to prevent my seeming to have done what I did do by mere
chance. My friends the loyalists, the men at whom you hint, and that
"Sparta" which you say has fallen to my lot,[139] I will not only never

desert, but even if I am deserted by her, I shall still stand by my ancient
creed. However, please consider this, that since the death of Catulus I am
holding this road for the loyalists without any garrison or company. For as
Rhinton, I think, says:

"Some are stark naught, and some care not at all."[140]

However, how our friends the fish-breeders[141] envy me I will write you
word another time, or will reserve it till we meet. But from the senate-house
nothing shall ever tear me: either because that course is the right one, or
because it is most to my interests, or because I am far from being
dissatisfied with the estimation in which I am held by the senate.

As to the Sicyonians, as I wrote to you before,[142] there is not much to be
hoped for in the senate. For there is no one now to lay a complaint before it.
Therefore, if you are waiting for that, you will find it a tedious business.
Fight some other way if you can. At the time the decree was passed no one
noticed who would be affected by it, and besides the rank and file of the
senators voted in a great hurry for that clause. For cancelling the senatorial
decree the time is not yet ripe, because there are none to complain of it, and
because also many are glad to have it so, some from spite, some from a
notion of its equity. Your friend Metellus is an admirable consul: I have
only one fault to find with him—he doesn't receive the news from Gaul of
the restoration of peace with much pleasure. He wants a triumph, I suppose.
I could have wished a little less of that sort of thing: in other respects he is
splendid. But the son of Aulus behaves in such a way, that his consulship is
not a consulship but a stigma on our friend Magnus. Of my writings I send
you my consulship in Greek completed. I have handed that book to L.
Cossinius. My Latin works I think you like, but as a Greek you envy this
Greek book. If others write treatises on the subject I will send them to you,
but I assure you that, as soon as they have read mine, some how or other
they become slack. To return to my own affairs, L. Papirius Pætus, an
excellent man and an admirer of mine, has presented me with the books left
him by Servius Claudius. As your friend Cincius told me that I could take
them without breaking the lex Cincia[143], I told him that I should have
great pleasure in accepting them, if he brought them to Italy. Wherefore, as
you love me, as you know that I love you, do try by means of friends,

clients, guests, or even your freedmen or slaves, to prevent the loss of a
single leaf. For I am in urgent need of the Greek books which I suspect, and
of the Latin books which I know, that he left: and more and more every day
I find repose in such studies every moment left to me from my labours in
the forum. You will, I say, do me a very great favour, if you will be as
zealous in this matter as you ever are in matters in which you suppose me to
feel strongly; and Pætus's own affairs I recommend to your kindness for
which he thanks you extremely. A prompt visit from yourself is a thing
which I do not merely ask for, I advise it.

XXVI (a ii, 1)
TO ATTICUS (IN GREECE)

Rome, June

On the 1st of June, as I was on my way to Antium, and eagerly b.c. 60,
getting out of the way of M. Metellus's gladiators, your boy met æt. 46
me, and delivered to me a letter from you and a history of my
consulship written in Greek.[144] This made me glad that I had some time
before delivered to L. Cossinius a book, also written in Greek, on the same
subject, to take to you. For if I had read yours first you might have said that
I had pilfered from you. Although your essay (which I have read with
pleasure) seemed to me just a trifle rough and bald, yet its very neglect of
ornament is an ornament in itself, as women were once thought to have the
best perfume who used none. My book, on the other hand, has exhausted
the whole of Isocrates's unguent case, and all the paint-boxes of his pupils,
and even Aristotle's colours. This, as you tell me in another letter, you
glanced over at Corcyra, and afterwards I suppose received it from
Cossinius.[145] I should not have ventured to send it to you until I had
slowly and fastidiously revised it. However, Posidonius, in his letter of
acknowledgment from Rhodes, says that as he read my memoir, which I
had sent him with a view to his writing on the same subject with more
elaboration, he was not only not incited to write, but absolutely made afraid
to do so. In a word, I have routed the Greeks. Accordingly, as a general rule,
those who were pressing me for material to work up, have now ceased to
bother me. Pray, if you like the book, see to there being copies at Athens
and other Greek towns;[146] for it may possibly throw some lustre on my
actions. As for my poor speeches, I will send you both those you ask for and
some more also, since what I write to satisfy the studious youth finds
favour, it seems, with you also. [For it suited my purpose[147]—both
because it was in his Philippics that your fellow citizen Demosthenes
gained his reputation, and because it was by withdrawing from the mere

controversial and forensic style of oratory that he acquired the character of
a serious politician—to see that I too should have speeches that may
properly be called consular. Of these are, first, one delivered on the 1st of
January in the senate, a second to the people on the agrarian law, a third on
Otho, a fourth for Rabirius, a fifth on the Sons of the Proscribed, a sixth
when I declined a province in public meeting, a seventh when I allowed
Catiline to escape, which I delivered the day after Catiline fled, a ninth in
public meeting on the day that the Allobroges made their revelation, a tenth
in the senate on the 5th of December. There are also two short ones, which
may be called fragments, on the agrarian law. This whole cycle I will see
that you have. And since you like my writings as well as my actions, from
these same rolls you will learn both what I have done and what I have said
—or you should not have asked for them, for I did not make you an offer of
them.]
You ask me why I urge you to come home, and at the same time you
intimate that you are hampered by business affairs, and yet say that you will
nevertheless hasten back, not only if it is needful, but even if I desire it.
Well, there is certainly no absolute necessity, yet I do think you might plan
the periods of your tour somewhat more conveniently. Your absence is too
prolonged, especially as you are in a neighbouring country, while yet I
cannot enjoy your society, nor you mine. For the present there is peace, but
if my young friend Pulcher's[148] madness found means to advance a little
farther, I should certainly summon you from your present sojourn. But
Metellus is offering him a splendid opposition and will continue to do so.
Need I say more? He is a truly patriotic consul and, as I have ever thought,
naturally an honest man. That person, however, makes no disguise, but
avowedly desires to be elected tribune. But when the matter was mooted in
the senate, I cut the fellow to pieces, and taunted him with his
changeableness in seeking the tribuneship at Rome after having given out at
Hera, in Sicily,[149] that he was a candidate for the ædileship; and went on
to say that we needn't much trouble ourselves, for that he would not be
permitted to ruin the Republic any more as a plebeian, than patricians like
him had been allowed to do so in my consulship. Presently, on his saying
that he had completed the journey from the straits in seven days, and that it
was impossible for anyone to have gone out to meet him, and that he had
entered the city by night,[150] and making a great parade of this in a public

meeting, I remarked that that was nothing new for him: seven days from
Sicily to Rome, three hours from Rome to Interamna![151] Entered by night,
did he? so he did before! No one went to meet him? neither did anyone on
the other occasion, exactly when it should have been done! In short, I bring
our young upstart to his bearings, not only by a set and serious speech, but
also by repartees of this sort. Accordingly, I have come now to rally him
and jest with him in quite a familiar manner. For instance, when we were
escorting a candidate, he asked me "whether I had been accustomed to
secure Sicilians places at the gladiatorial shows?" "No," said I. "Well, I
intend to start the practice," said he, "as their new patron; but my sister,[152]
who has the control of such a large part of the consul's space, wont give me
more than a single foot." "Don't grumble," said I, "about one of your sister's
feet; you may lift the other also." A jest, you will say, unbecoming to a
consular. I confess it, but I detest that woman—so unworthy of a consul.
For

"A shrew she is and with her husband jars,

and not only with Metellus, but also with Fabius,[153] because she is
annoyed at their interference in this business.[154] You ask about the
agrarian law: it has completely lost all interest, I think. You rather chide me,
though gently, about my intimacy with Pompey. I would not have you think
that I have made friends with him for my own protection; but things had
come to such a pass that, if by any chance we had quarrelled, there would
inevitably have been violent dissensions in the state. And in taking
precautions and making provision against that, I by no means swerved from
my well-known loyalist policy, but my object was to make him more of a
loyalist and induce him to drop somewhat of his time-serving vacillation:
and he, let me assure you, now speaks in much higher terms of my
achievements (against which many had tried to incite him) than of his own.
He testifies that while he served the state well, I preserved it. What if I even
make a better citizen of Cæsar,[155] who has now the wind full in his sails—
am I doing so poor a service to the Republic? Farthermore, if there was no
one to envy me, if all, as they ought to be, were my supporters, nevertheless
a preference should still be given to a treatment that would cure the
diseased parts of the state, rather than to the use of the knife. As it is,
however, since the knighthood, which I once stationed on the slope of the

Capitoline,[156] with you as their standard-bearer and leader, has deserted
the senate, and since our leading men think themselves in a seventh heaven,
if there are bearded mullets in their fish-ponds that will come to hand for
food, and neglect everything else, do not you think that I am doing no mean
service if I secure that those who have the power, should not have the will,
to do any harm? As for our friend Cato, you do not love him more than I do:
but after all, with the very best intentions and the most absolute honesty, he
sometimes does harm to the Republic. He speaks and votes as though he
were in the Republic of Plato, not in the scum of Romulus. What could be
fairer than that a man should be brought to trial who has taken a bribe for
his verdict? Cato voted for this: the senate agreed with him. The equites
declared war on the senate, not on me, for I voted against it. What could be
a greater piece of impudence than the equites renouncing the obligations of
their contract? Yet for the sake of keeping the friendship of the order it was
necessary to submit to the loss. Cato resisted and carried his point.
Accordingly, though we have now had the spectacle of a consul thrown into
prison,[157] of riots again and again stirred up, not one of those moved a
finger to help, with whose support I and the consuls that immediately
followed me were accustomed to defend the Republic. "Well, but," say you,
"are we to pay them for their support?" What are we to do if we can't get it
on any other terms? Are we to be slaves to freedmen or even slaves? But, as
you say, assez de sérieux! Favonius[158] carried my tribe with better credit
than his own; he lost that of Lucceius. His accusation of Nasica[159] was not
creditable, but was conducted with moderation: he spoke so badly that he
appeared when in Rhodes to have ground at the mills more than at the
lessons of Molon.[160] He was somewhat angry with me because I appeared
for the defence: however, he is now making up to me again on public
grounds. I will write you word how Lucceius is getting on when I have seen
Cæsar, who will be here in a couple of days. The injury done you by the
Sicyonians you attribute to Cato and his imitator Servilius.[161] Why? did
not that blow reach many excellent citizens? But since the senate has so
determined, let us commend it, and not be in a minority of one.[162] My
"Amaltheia"[163] is waiting and longing for you. My Tusculan and
Pompeian properties please me immensely, except that they have
overwhelmed me—me, the scourge of debt!—not exactly in Corinthian
bronze, but in the bronze which is current in the market.[164] In Gaul I hope

peace is restored. My "Prognostics,"[165] along with my poor speeches,
expect shortly. Yet write and tell me what your ideas are as to returning. For
Pomponia sent a message to me that you would be at Rome some time in
July. That does not agree with your letter which you wrote to me about your
name being put on the census roll. Pætus, as I have already told you, has
presented me with all books left by his brother. This gift of his depends
upon your seeing to it with care. Pray, if you love me, take measures for
their preservation and transmission to me. You could do me no greater
favour, and I want the Latin books preserved with as much care as the
Greek. I shall look upon them as virtually a present from yourself. I have
written to Octavius:[166] I had not said anything to him about you by word
of mouth; for I did not suppose that you carried on your business in that
province, or look upon you in the light of general money-lender: but I have
written, as in duty bound, with all seriousness.

XXVII (a ii, 2)
TO ATTICUS (ON HIS WAY TO ROME)

Tusculum (December)

Take care of my dear nephew Cicero, I beg of you. I seem to share b.c. 60,
his illness. I am engaged on the "Constitution of Pellene," and, by æt. 46
heaven, have piled up a huge heap of Dicæarchus at my feet.[167]
What a great man! You may learn much more from him than from Procilius.
His "Constitution of Corinth" and "Constitution of Athens" I have, I think,
at Rome. Upon my word, you will say, if you read these, "What a
remarkable man!" Herodes, if he had any sense, would have read him rather
than write a single letter himself.[168] He has attacked me by letter; with you
I see he has come to close quarters. I would have joined a conspiracy rather
than resisted one, if I had thought that I should have to listen to him as my
reward. As to Lollius, you must be mad. As to the wine, I think you are
right.[169] But look here! Don't you see that the Kalends are approaching,
and no Antonius?[170] That the jury is being empanelled? For so they send
me word. That Nigidius[171] threatens in public meeting that he will
personally cite any juror who does not appear? However, I should be glad if
you would write me word whether you have heard anything about the return
of Antonius; and since you don't mean to come here, dine with me in any
case on the 29th. Mind you do this, and take care of your health.

XXVIII (a ii, 3)
TO ATTICUS (ON HIS WAY TO ROME)

Rome (December)

First, I have good news for you, as I think. Valerius has been b.c. 60,
acquitted. Hortensius was his counsel. The verdict is thought to æt. 46
have been a favour to Aulus's son; and "Epicrates,"[172] I suspect,
has been up to some mischief. I didn't like his boots and his white leggings.
[173]
What it is I shall know when you arrive. When you find fault with the
narrow windows, let me tell you that you are criticising the Cyropædeia.
[174]
For when I made the same remark, Cyrus used to answer that the views
of the gardens through broad lights were not so pleasant. For let α be the
eye, βγ the object seen, δ and ε the rays ... you see the rest.[175] For if sight
resulted from the impact of images,[176] the images would be in great
difficulties with a narrow entrance: but, as it is, that "effusion" of rays gets
on quite nicely. If you have any other fault to find you won't get off without
an answer, unless it is something that can be put right without expense.
I now come to January and my "political attitude," in which, after the
manner of the Socratics, I shall put the two sides; at the end, however, as
they were wont to do, the one which I approve. It is, indeed, a matter for
profound reflexion. For I must either firmly oppose the agrarian law—
which will involve a certain struggle, but a struggle full of glory—or I must
remain altogether passive, which is about equivalent to retiring to
Solonium[177] or Antium; or, lastly, I must actually assist the bill, which I
am told Cæsar fully expects from me without any doubt. For Cornelius has
been with me (I mean Cornelius Balbus,[178] Cæsar's intimate), and
solemnly assured me that he meant to avail himself of my advice and
Pompey's in everything, and intended to endeavour to reconcile Crassus
with Pompey.[179] In this last course there are the following advantages: a
very close union with Pompey, and, if I choose, with Cæsar also; a

reconciliation with my political enemies, peace with the common herd, ease
for my old age. But the conclusion of the third book of my own poem has a
strong hold on me:

"Meanwhile the tenor of thy youth's first spring,
Which still as consul thou with all thy soul
And all thy manhood heldest, see thou keep,
And swell the chorus of all good men's praise."[180]

These verses Calliope herself dictated to me in that book, which contains
much written in an "aristocratic" spirit, and I cannot, therefore, doubt that I
shall always hold that

"The best of omens is our country's cause."[181]

But let us reserve all this for our walks during the Compitalia[182].
Remember the day before the Compitalia. I will order the bath to be heated,
and Terentia is going to invite Pomponia. We will add your mother to the
party. Please bring me Theophrastus de Ambitione from my brother's
library.

XXIX (q fr i, 1)
Quintus Cicero was prætor in b.c. 62. In b.c. 61 (March) he went
out to "Asia" as proprætor; his first year of office would be up in
March, b.c. 60, but his governorship was, as was very common,
extended till March, b.c. 59. Towards the end of b.c. 60 the
senate seems to have arranged not to appoint his successor, that
is, he would be left in office till about March, b.c. 58. It is in
view of this third year of office that Cicero writes this essay-
letter to him on the duties of a provincial governor. Apparently
Quintus had faults of temper which had caused some scandals to
reach Rome. We have seen how he was one of the few who
managed to quarrel with Atticus; and in b.c. 48 we shall find
how fiercely he resented the exercise of his brother's influence
which had led him to take the losing side, which from his
attachment to Cæsar he may have been half inclined to think the
wrong side. His constant squabbles with his wife (though the
fault was evidently in great part hers) also go towards forming
our conclusion about him that, with some ability and honesty, he
was un peu difficile.

TO HIS BROTHER QUINTUS (IN ASIA)

Rome (December)

I. Though I have no doubt that many messengers, and even b.c. 60,
common rumour, with its usual speed, will anticipate this letter, æt. 46
and that you will already have heard from others that a third year
has been added to my loss and your labour, yet I thought you ought to
receive from me also the news of this tiresome circumstance. For not in
one, but in several of my previous letters, in spite of others having given up
the idea in despair, I gave you hope of being able at an early date to quit
your province, not only that I might as long as possible cheer you with a
pleasurable belief, but also because I and the prætors took such pains in the

matter, that I felt no misgiving as to the possibility of its being arranged. As
it is, since matters have so turned out that neither the prætors by the weight
of their influence, nor I by my earnest efforts, have been able to prevail, it is
certainly difficult not to be annoyed, yet our minds, practised as they are in
conducting and supporting business of the utmost gravity, ought not to be
crushed or weakened by vexation. And since men ought to feel most vexed
at what has been brought upon them by their own fault, it is I who ought in
this matter to be more vexed than you. For it is the result of a fault on my
part, against which you had protested both in conversation at the moment of
your departure, and in letters since, that your successor was not named last
year. In this, while consulting for the interests of our allies, and resisting the
shameless conduct of some merchants, and while seeking the increase of
our reputation by your virtues, I acted unwisely, especially as I made it
possible for that second year to entail a third. And as I confess the mistake
to have been mine, it lies with your wisdom and kindness to remedy it, and
to see that my imprudence is turned to advantage by your careful
performance of your duties. And truly, if you exert yourself in every
direction to earn men's good word, not with a view to rival others, but
henceforth to surpass yourself, if you rouse your whole mind and your
every thought and care to the ambition of gaining a superior reputation in
all respects, believe me, one year added to your labour will bring us, nay,
our posterity also, a joy of many years' duration. Wherefore I begin by
entreating you not to let your soul shrink and be cast down, nor to allow
yourself to be overpowered by the magnitude of the business as though by a
wave; but, on the contrary, to stand upright and keep your footing, or even
advance to meet the flood of affairs. For you are not administering a
department of the state, in which fortune reigns supreme, but one in which a
well-considered policy and an attention to business are the most important
things. But if I had seen you receiving the prolongation of a command in a
great and dangerous war, I should have trembled in spirit, because I should
have known that the dominion of fortune over us had been at the same time
prolonged. As it is, however, a department of the state has been intrusted to
you in which fortune occupies no part, or, at any rate, an insignificant one,
and which appears to me to depend entirely on your virtue and self-control.
We have no reason to fear, as far as I know, any designs of our enemies, any
actual fighting in the field, any revolts of allies, any default in the tribute or
in the supply of corn, any mutiny in the army: things which have very often

befallen the wisest of men in such a way, that they have been no more able
to get the better of the assault of fortune, than the best of pilots a violent
tempest. You have been granted profound peace, a dead calm: yet if the
pilot falls asleep, it may even so overwhelm him, though if he keeps awake
it may give him positive pleasure. For your province consists, in the first
place, of allies of a race which, of all the world, is the most civilized; and,
in the second place, of citizens, who, either as being publicani, are very
closely connected with me, or, as being traders who have made money,
think that they owe the security of their property to my consulship.
II. But it may be said that among even such men as these there occur
serious disputes, many wrongful acts are committed, and hotly contested
litigation is the result. As though I ever thought that you had no trouble to
contend with! I know that the trouble is exceedingly great, and such as
demands the very greatest prudence; but remember that it is prudence much
more than fortune on which, in my opinion, the result of your trouble
depends. For what trouble is it to govern those over whom you are set, if
you do but govern yourself? That may be a great and difficult task to others,
and indeed it is most difficult: to you it has always been the easiest thing in
the world, and indeed ought to be so, for your natural disposition is such
that, even without discipline, it appears capable of self-control; whereas a
discipline has, in fact, been applied that might educate the most faulty of
characters. But while you resist, as you do, money, pleasure, and every kind
of desire yourself, there will, I am to be told, be a risk of your not being
able to suppress some fraudulent banker or some rather over-extortionate
tax-collector! For as to the Greeks, they will think, as they behold the
innocence of your life, that one of the heroes of their history, or a demigod
from heaven, has come down into the province. And this I say, not to induce
you to act thus, but to make you glad that you are acting or have acted so. It
is a splendid thing to have been three years in supreme power in Asia
without allowing statue, picture, plate, napery, slave, anyone's good looks,
or any offer of money—all of which are plentiful in your province—to
cause you to swerve from the most absolute honesty and purity of life. What
can be imagined so striking or so desirable as that a virtue, a command over
the passions, a self-control such as yours, are not remaining in darkness and
obscurity, but have been set in the broad daylight of Asia, before the eyes of
a famous province, and in the hearing of all nations and peoples? That the

inhabitants are not being ruined by your progresses, drained by your
charges, agitated by your approach? That there is the liveliest joy, public
and private, wheresoever you come, the city regarding you as a protector
and not a tyrant, the private house as a guest and not a plunderer?
III. But in these matters I am sure that mere experience has by this time
taught you that it is by no means sufficient to have these virtues yourself,
but that you must keep your eyes open and vigilant, in order that in the
guardianship of your province you may be considered to vouch to the allies,
the citizens, and the state, not for yourself alone, but for all the subordinates
of your government. However, you have in the persons of your legati men
likely to have a regard for their own reputation. Of these in rank, position,
and age Tubero is first; who, I think, particularly as he is a writer of history,
could select from his own Annals many whom he would like and would be
able to imitate. Allienus, again, is ours, as well in heart and affection, as in
his conformity to our principles. I need not speak of Gratidius: I am sure
that, while taking pains to preserve his own reputation, his fraternal
affection for us makes him take pains for ours also.[183] Your quæstor is not
of your own selection, but the one assigned you by lot. He is bound both to
act with propriety of his own accord, and to conform to the policy and
principles which you lay down. But should any one of these adopt a lower
standard of conduct, you should tolerate such behaviour, if it goes no farther
than a breach, in his private capacity, of the rules by which he was bound,
but not if it goes to the extent of employing for gain the authority which you
granted him as a promotion. For I am far from thinking, especially since the
moral sentiments of the day are so much inclined to excessive laxity and
self-seeking, that you should investigate every case of petty misconduct,
and thoroughly examine every one of these persons; but that you should
regulate your confidence by the trustworthiness of its recipient. And among
such persons you will have to vouch for those whom the Republic has itself
given you as companions and assistants in public affairs, at least within the
limits which I have before laid down.
IV. In the case, however, of those of your personal staff or official
attendants whom you have yourself selected to be about you—who are
usually spoken of as a kind of prætor's cohort—we must vouch, not only for
their acts, but even for their words. But those you have with you are the sort
of men of whom you may easily be fond when they are acting rightly, and

whom you may very easily check when they shew insufficient regard for
your reputation. By these, when you were raw to the work, your frank
disposition might possibly have been deceived—for the better a man is the
less easily does he suspect others of being bad—now, however, let this third
year witness an integrity as perfect as the two former, but still more wary
and vigilant. Listen to that only which you are supposed to listen to; don't
let your ears be open to whispered falsehoods and interested suggestions.
Don't let your signet ring be a mere implement, but, as it were, your second
self: not the minister of another's will, but a witness of your own. Let your
marshal hold the rank which our ancestors wished him to hold, who,
looking upon this place as not one of profit, but of labour and duty, scarcely
ever conferred it upon any but their freedmen, whom they indeed controlled
almost as absolutely as their slaves. Let the lictor be the dispenser of your
clemency, not his own; and let the fasces and axes which they carry before
you constitute ensigns rather of rank than of power. Let it, in fact, be known
to the whole province that the life, children, fame, and fortunes of all over
whom you preside are exceedingly dear to you. Finally, let it be believed
that you will, if you detect it, be hostile not only to those who have accepted
a bribe, but to those also who have given it. And, indeed, no one will give
anything, if it is made quite clear that nothing is usually obtained from you
through those who pretend to be very influential with you. Not, however,
that the object of this discourse is to make you over-harsh or suspicious
towards your staff. For if any of them in the course of the last two years has
never fallen under suspicion of rapacity, as I am told about Cæsius and
Chærippus and Labeo—and think it true, because I know them—there is no
authority, I think, which may not be intrusted to them, and no confidence
which may not be placed in them with the utmost propriety, and in anyone
else like them. But if there is anyone of whom you have already had reason
to doubt, or concerning whom you have made some discovery, in such a
man place no confidence, intrust him with no particle of your reputation.
V. If, however, you have found in the province itself anyone, hitherto
unknown to us, who has made his way into intimacy with you, take care
how much confidence you repose in him; not that there may not be many
good provincials, but, though we may hope so, it is risky to be positive. For
everyone's real character is covered by many wrappings of pretence and is
concealed by a kind of veil: face, eyes, expression very often lie, speech

most often of all. Wherefore, how can you expect to find in that class[184]
any who, while foregoing for the sake of money all from which we can
scarcely tear ourselves away,[185] will yet love you sincerely and not merely
pretend to do so from interested motives? I think, indeed, it is a hard task to
find such men, especially if we notice that the same persons care nothing
for almost any man out of office, yet always with one consent shew
affection for the prætors. But of this class, if by chance you have discovered
any one to be fonder of you—for it may so happen—than of your office,
such a man indeed gladly admit upon your list of friends: but if you fail to
perceive that, there is no class of people you must be more on your guard
against admitting to intimacy, just because they are acquainted with all the
ways of making money, do everything for the sake of it, and have no
consideration for the reputation of a man with whom they are not destined
to pass their lives. And even among the Greeks themselves you must be on
your guard against admitting close intimacies, except in the case of the very
few, if such are to be found, who are worthy of ancient Greece. As things
now stand, indeed, too many of them are untrustworthy, false, and schooled
by long servitude in the arts of extravagant adulation. My advice is that
these men should all be entertained with courtesy, but that close ties of
hospitality or friendship should only be formed with the best of them:
excessive intimacies with them are not very trustworthy—for they do not
venture to oppose our wishes—and they are not only jealous of our
countrymen, but of their own as well.
VI. And now, considering the caution and care that I would shew in matters
of this kind—in which I fear I may be somewhat over-severe—what do you
suppose my sentiments are in regard to slaves? Upon these we ought to
keep a hold in all places, but especially in the provinces. On this head many
rules may be laid down, but this is at once the shortest and most easily
maintained—that they should behave during your progresses in Asia as
though you were travelling on the Appian way, and not suppose that it
makes any difference whether they have arrived at Tralles or Formiæ. But
if, again, any one of your slaves is conspicuously trustworthy, employ him
in your domestic and private affairs; but in affairs pertaining to your office
as governor, or in any department of the state, do not let him lay a finger.
For many things which may, with perfect propriety, be intrusted to slaves,
must yet not be so intrusted, for the sake of avoiding talk and hostile

remark. But my discourse, I know not how, has slipped into the didactic
vein, though that is not what I proposed to myself originally. For what right
have I to be laying down rules for one who, I am fully aware, in this subject
especially, is not my inferior in wisdom, while in experience he is even my
superior? Yet, after all, if your actions had the additional weight of my
approval, I thought that they would seem more satisfactory to yourself.
Wherefore, let these be the foundations on which your public character
rests: first and foremost your own honesty and self-control, then the
scrupulous conduct of all your staff, the exceedingly cautious and careful
selection in regard to intimacies with provincials and Greeks, the strict and
unbending government of your slaves. These are creditable even in the
conduct of our private and everyday business: in such an important
government, where morals are so debased and the province has such a
corrupting influence, they must needs seem divine. Such principles and
conduct on your part are sufficient to justify the strictness which you have
displayed in some acts of administration, owing to which I have
encountered certain personal disputes with great satisfaction, unless, indeed,
you suppose me to be annoyed by the complaints of a fellow like Paconius
—who is not even a Greek, but in reality a Mysian or Phrygian—or by the
words of Tuscenius, a madman and a knave, from whose abominable jaws
you snatched the fruits of a most infamous piece of extortion with the most
complete justice.
VII. These and similar instances of your strict administration in your
province we shall find difficulty in justifying, unless they are accompanied
by the most perfect integrity: wherefore let there be the greatest strictness in
your administration of justice, provided only that it is never varied from
favour, but is kept up with impartiality. But it is of little avail that justice is
administered by yourself with impartiality and care, unless the same is done
by those to whom you have intrusted any portion of this duty. And, indeed,
in my view there is no very great variety of business in the government of
Asia: the entire province mainly depends on the administration of justice. In
it we have the whole theory of government, especially of provincial
government, clearly displayed: all that a governor has to do is to shew
consistency and firmness enough, not only to resist favouritism, but even
the suspicion of it. To this also must be added courtesy in listening to
pleaders, consideration in pronouncing a decision, and painstaking efforts to

convince suitors of its justice, and to answer their arguments. It is by such
habits that C. Octavius has recently made himself very popular;[186] in
whose court, for the first time,[187] the lictor did not interfere, and the
marshal kept silence, while every suitor spoke as often and as long as he
chose. In which conduct he would perhaps have been thought over-lax, had
it not been that this laxity enabled him to maintain the following instance of
severity. The partisans of Sulla were forced to restore what they had taken
by violence and terrorism. Those who had made inequitable decrees, while
in office, were now as private citizens forced to submit to the principles
they had established. This strictness on his part would have been thought
harsh, had it not been rendered palatable by many sweetening influences of
courtesy. But if this gentleness was sufficient to make him popular at Rome,
where there is such haughtiness of spirit, such unrestrained liberty, such
unlimited licence of individuals, and, in fine, so many magistrates, so many
means of obtaining protection, such vast power in the hands of the popular
assembly, and such influence exercised by the senate, how welcome must a
prætor's courtesy be in Asia, in which there is such a numerous body of
citizens and allies, so many cities, so many communities, all hanging on one
man's nod, and in which there are no means of protection, no one to whom
to make a complaint, no senate, no popular assembly! Wherefore it requires
an exalted character, a man who is not only equitable from natural impulse,
but who has also been trained by study and the refinements of a liberal
education, so to conduct himself while in the possession of such immense
power, that those over whom he rules should not feel the want of any other
power.
VIII. Take the case of the famous Cyrus, portrayed by Xenophon, not as an
historical character, but as a model of righteous government, the serious
dignity of whose character is represented by that philosopher as combined
with a peculiar courtesy. And, indeed, it is not without reason that our hero
Africanus used perpetually to have those books in his hands, for there is no
duty pertaining to a careful and equitable governor which is not to be found
in them. Well, if he cultivated those qualities, though never destined to be in
a private station, how carefully ought those to maintain them to whom
power is given with the understanding that it must be surrendered, and
given by laws under whose authority they must once more come? In my
opinion all who govern others are bound to regard as the object of all their

actions the greatest happiness of the governed. That this is your highest
object, and has been so since you first landed in Asia, has been published
abroad by consistent rumour and the conversation of all. It is, let me add,
not only the duty of one who governs allies and citizens, but even of one
who governs slaves and dumb animals, to serve the interests and advantage
of those under him. In this point I notice that everyone agrees that you take
the greatest pains: no new debt is being contracted by the states, while
many have been relieved by you from a heavy and long-standing one.
Several cities that had become dilapidated and almost deserted—of which
one was the most famous state in Ionia, the other in Caria, Samus and
Halicarnassus—have been given a new life by you: there is no party
fighting, no civil strife in the towns: you take care that the government of
the states is administered by the best class of citizens: brigandage is
abolished in Mysia; murder suppressed in many districts; peace is
established throughout the province; and not only the robberies usual on
highways and in country places, but those more numerous and more serious
ones in towns and temples, have been completely stopped: the fame,
fortunes, and repose of the rich have been relieved of that most oppressive
instrument of prætorial rapacity—vexatious prosecution; the expenses and
tribute of the states are made to fall with equal weight on all who live in the
territories of those states: access to you is as easy as possible: your ears are
open to the complaints of all: no man's want of means or want of friends
excludes him, I don't say from access to you in public and on the tribunal,
but even from your house and chamber: in a word, throughout your
government there is no harshness or cruelty—everywhere clemency,
mildness, and kindness reign supreme.
IX. What an immense benefit, again, have you done in having liberated
Asia from the tribute exacted by the ædiles a measure which cost me some
violent controversies! For if one of our nobles complains openly that by
your edict, "No moneys shall be voted for the games," you have robbed him
of 200 sestertia, what a vast sum of money would have been paid, had a
grant been made to the credit of every magistrate who held games, as had
become the regular custom! However, I stopped these complaints by taking
up this position—what they think of it in Asia I don't know, in Rome it
meets with no little approval and praise—I refused to accept a sum of
money which the states had decreed for a temple and monument in our

honour, though they had done so with the greatest enthusiasm in view both
of my services and of your most valuable benefactions; and though the law
contained a special and distinct exception in these words, "that it was lawful
to receive for temple or monument"; and though again the money was not
going to be thrown away, but would be employed on decorating a temple,
and would thus appear to have been given to the Roman people and the
immortal Gods rather than to myself—yet, in spite of its having desert, law,
and the wishes of those who offered the gift in its favour, I determined that I
must not accept it, for this reason among others, namely, to prevent those, to
whom such an honour was neither due nor legal, from being jealous.
Wherefore adhere with all your heart and soul to the policy which you have
hitherto adopted—that of being devoted to those whom the senate and
people of Rome have committed and intrusted to your honour and authority,
of doing your best to protect them, and of desiring their greatest happiness.
Even if the lot had made you governor of Africans, or Spaniards, or Gauls
—uncivilized and barbarous nations—it would still have been your duty as
a man of feeling to consult for their interests and advantage, and to have
contributed to their safety. But when we rule over a race of men in which
civilization not only exists, but from which it is believed to have spread to
others, we are bound to repay them, above all things, what we received
from them. For I shall not be ashamed to go so far—especially as my life
and achievements have been such as to exclude any suspicion of sloth or
frivolity—as to confess that, whatever I have accomplished, I have
accomplished by means of those studies and principles which have been
transmitted to us in Greek literature and schools of thought. Wherefore,
over and above the general good faith which is due to all men, I think we
are in a special sense under an obligation to that nation, to put in practice
what it has taught us among the very men by whose maxims we have been
brought out of barbarism.
X. And indeed Plato, the fountain-head of genius and learning, thought that
states would only be happy when scholars and philosophers began being
their rulers, or when those who were their rulers had devoted all their
attention to learning and philosophy. It was plainly this union of power and
philosophy that in his opinion might prove the salvation of states. And this
perhaps has at length fallen to the fortune of the whole empire: certainly it
has in the present instance to your province, to have a man in supreme

power in it, who has from boyhood spent the chief part of his zeal and time
in imbibing the principles of philosophy, virtue, and humanity. Wherefore
be careful that this third year, which has been added to your labour, may be
thought a prolongation of prosperity to Asia. And since Asia was more
fortunate in retaining you than I was in my endeavour to bring you back,
see that my regret is softened by the exultation of the province. For if you
have displayed the very greatest activity in earning honours such as, I think,
have never been paid to anyone else, much greater ought your activity to be
in preserving these honours. What I for my part think of honours of that
kind I have told you in previous letters. I have always regarded them, if
given indiscriminately, as of little value, if paid from interested motives, as
worthless: if, however, as in this case, they are tributes to solid services on
your part, I hold you bound to take much pains in preserving them. Since,
then, you are exercising supreme power and official authority in cities, in
which you have before your eyes the consecration and apotheosis of your
virtues, in all decisions, decrees, and official acts consider what you owe to
those warm opinions entertained of you, to those verdicts on your character,
to those honours which have been rendered you. And what you owe will be
to consult for the interests of all, to remedy men's misfortunes, to provide
for their safety, to resolve that you will be both called and believed to be the
"father of Asia."
XI. However, to such a resolution and deliberate policy on your part the
great obstacle are the publicani: for, if we oppose them, we shall alienate
from ourselves and from the Republic an order which has done us most
excellent service, and which has been brought into sympathy with the
Republic by our means; if, on the other hand, we comply with them in
every case, we shall allow the complete ruin of those whose interests, to say
nothing of their preservation, we are bound to consult. This is the one
difficulty, if we look the thing fairly in the face, in your whole government.
For disinterested conduct on one's own part, the suppression of all
inordinate desires, the keeping a check upon one's staff, courtesy in hearing
causes, in listening to and admitting suitors—all this is rather a question of
credit than of difficulty: for it does not depend on any special exertion, but
rather on a mental resolve and inclination. But how much bitterness of
feeling is caused to allies by that question of the publicani we have had
reason to know in the case of citizens who, when recently urging the

removal of the port-dues in Italy, did not complain so much of the dues
themselves, as of certain extortionate conduct on the part of the collectors.
Wherefore, after hearing the grievances of citizens in Italy, I can
comprehend what happens to allies in distant lands. To conduct oneself in
this matter in such a way as to satisfy the publicani, especially when
contracts have been undertaken at a loss, and yet to preserve the allies from
ruin, seems to demand a virtue with something divine in it, I mean a virtue
like yours. To begin with, that they are subject to tax at all, which is their
greatest grievance, ought not to be thought so by the Greeks, because they
were so subject by their own laws without the Roman government. Again,
they cannot despise the word publicanus, for they have been unable to pay
the assessment according to Sulla's poll-tax without the aid of the publican.
But that Greek publicani are not more considerate in exacting the payment
of taxes than our own may be gathered from the fact that the Caunii, and all
the islands assigned to the Rhodians by Sulla, recently appealed to the
protection of the senate, and petitioned to be allowed to pay their tax to us
rather than to the Rhodians. Wherefore neither ought those to revolt at the
name of a publicanus who have always been subject to tax, nor those to
despise it who have been unable to make up the tribute by themselves, nor
those to refuse his services who have asked for them. At the same time let
Asia reflect on this, that if she were not under our government, there is no
calamity of foreign war or internal strife from which she would be free. And
since that government cannot possibly be maintained without taxes, she
should be content to purchase perpetual peace and tranquillity at the price
of a certain proportion of her products.
XII. But if they will fairly reconcile themselves to the existence and name
of publican, all the rest may be made to appear to them in a less offensive
light by your skill and prudence. They may, in making their bargains with
the publicani, not have regard so much to the exact conditions laid down by
the censors as to the convenience of settling the business and freeing
themselves from farther trouble. You also may do, what you have done
splendidly and are still doing, namely, dwell on the high position of the
publicani, and on your obligations to that order, in such a way as—putting
out of the question all considerations of your imperium and the power of
your official authority and dignity—to reconcile the Greeks with the
publicani, and to beg of those, whom you have served eminently well, and

who owe you everything, to suffer you by their compliance to maintain and
preserve the bonds which unite us with the publicani. But why do I address
these exhortations to you, who are not only capable of carrying them out of
your own accord without anyone's instruction, but have already to a great
extent thoroughly done so? For the most respectable and important
companies do not cease offering me thanks daily, and this is all the more
gratifying to me because the Greeks do the same. Now it is an achievement
of great difficulty to unite in feeling things which are opposite in interests,
aims, and, I had almost said, in their very nature. But I have not written all
this to instruct you—for your wisdom requires no man's instruction—but it
has been a pleasure to me while writing to set down your virtues, though I
have run to greater length in this letter than I could have wished, or than I
thought I should.
XIII. There is one thing on which I shall not cease from giving you advice,
nor will I, as far as in me lies, allow your praise to be spoken of with a
reservation. For all who come from your province do make one reservation
in the extremely high praise which they bestow on your virtue, integrity,
and kindness—it is that of sharpness of temper. That is a fault which, even
in our private and everyday life, seems to indicate want of solidity and
strength of mind; but nothing, surely, can be more improper than to
combine harshness of temper with the exercise of supreme power.
Wherefore I will not undertake to lay before you now what the greatest
philosophers say about anger, for I should not wish to be tedious, and you
can easily ascertain it yourself from the writings of many of them: but I
don't think I ought to pass over what is the essence of a letter, namely, that
the recipient should be informed of what he does not know. Well, what
nearly everybody reports to me is this: they usually say that, as long as you
are not out of temper, nothing can be pleasanter than you are, but that when
some instance of dishonesty or wrong-headedness has stirred you, your
temper rises to such a height that no one can discover any trace of your
usual kindness. Wherefore, since no mere desire for glory, but
circumstances and fortune have brought us upon a path of life which makes
it inevitable that men will always talk about us, let us be on our guard, to
the utmost of our means and ability, that no glaring fault may be alleged to
have existed in us. And I am not now urging, what is perhaps difficult in
human nature generally, and at our time of life especially, that you should

change your disposition and suddenly pluck out a deeply-rooted habit, but I
give you this hint: if you cannot completely avoid this failing, because your
mind is surprised by anger before cool calculation has been able to prevent
it, deliberately prepare yourself beforehand, and daily reflect on the duty of
resisting anger, and that, when it moves your heart most violently, it is just
the time for being most careful to restrain your tongue. And that sometimes
seems to me to be a greater virtue than not being angry at all. For the latter
is not always a mark of superiority to weakness, it is sometimes the result of
dullness; but to govern temper and speech, however angry you may be, or
even to hold your tongue and keep your indignant feelings and resentment
under control, although it may not be a proof of perfect wisdom, yet
requires no ordinary force of character. And, indeed, in this respect they tell
me that you are now much more gentle and less irritable. No violent
outbursts of indignation on your part, no abusive words, no insulting
language are reported to me: which, while quite alien to culture and
refinement, are specially unsuited to high power and place. For if your
anger is implacable, it amounts to extreme harshness; if easily appeased, to
extreme weakness. The latter, however, as a choice of evils, is, after all,
preferable to harshness.
XIV. But since your first year gave rise to most talk in regard to this
particular complaint—I believe because the wrong-doing, the covetousness,
and the arrogance of men came upon you as a surprise, and seemed to you
unbearable —while your second year was much milder, because habit and
reflexion, and, as I think, my letters also, rendered you more tolerant and
gentle, the third ought to be so completely reformed, as not to give even the
smallest ground for anyone to find fault. And here I go on to urge upon you,
not by way of exhortation or admonition, but by brotherly entreaties, that
you would set your whole heart, care, and thought on the gaining of praise
from everybody and from every quarter. If, indeed, our achievements were
only the subject of a moderate amount of talk and commendation, nothing
eminent, nothing beyond the practice of others, would have been demanded
of you. As it is, however, owing to the brilliancy and magnitude of the
affairs in which we have been engaged, if we do not obtain the very highest
reputation from your province, it seems scarcely possible for us to avoid the
most violent abuse. Our position is such that all loyalists support us, but
demand also and expect from us every kind of activity and virtue, while all

the disloyal, seeing that we have entered upon a lasting war with them,
appear contented with the very smallest excuse for attacking us. Wherefore,
since fortune has allotted to you such a theatre as Asia, completely packed
with an audience, of immense size, of the most refined judgment, and,
moreover, naturally so capable of conveying sound, that its expressions of
opinion and its remarks reach Rome, put out all your power, I beseech you,
exert all your energies to appear not only to have been worthy of the part
we played here, but to have surpassed everything done there by your high
qualities.
XV. And since chance has assigned to me among the magistracies the
conduct of public business in the city, to you that in a province, if my share
is inferior to no one's, take care that yours surpasses others. At the same
time think of this: we are not now working for a future and prospective
glory, but are fighting in defence of what has been already gained; which
indeed it was not so much an object to gain as it is now our duty to defend.
And if anything in me could be apart from you, I should desire nothing
more than the position which I have already gained. The actual fact,
however, is that unless all your acts and deeds in your province correspond
to my achievements, I shall think that I have gained nothing by those great
labours and dangers, in all of which you have shared. But if it was you who,
above all others, assisted me to gain a most splendid reputation, you will
certainly also labour more than others to enable me to retain it. You must
not be guided by the opinions and judgments of the present generation only,
but of those to come also: and yet the latter will be a more candid judgment,
for it will not be influenced by detraction and malice. Finally, you should
think of this—that you are not seeking glory for yourself alone (and even if
that were the case, you still ought not to be careless of it, especially as you
had determined to consecrate the memory of your name by the most
splendid monuments), but you have to share it with me, and to hand it down
to our children. In regard to which you must be on your guard lest by any
excess of carelessness you should seem not only to have neglected your
own interests, but to have begrudged those of your family also.
XVI. And these observations are not made with the idea of any speech of
mine appearing to have roused you from your sleep, but to have rather
"added speed to the runner." For you will continue to compel all in the
future, as you have compelled them in the past, to praise your equity, self-

control, strictness, and honesty. But from my extreme affection I am
possessed with a certain insatiable greed for glory for you. However, I am
convinced that, as Asia should now be as well-known to you as each man's
own house is to himself, and since to your supreme good sense such great
experience has now been added, there is nothing that affects reputation
which you do not know as well as possible yourself, and which does not
daily occur to your mind without anybody's exhortation. But I, who when I
read your writing seem to hear your voice, and when I write to you seem to
be talking to you, am therefore always best pleased with your longest letter,
and in writing am often somewhat prolix myself. My last prayer and advice
to you is that, as good poets and painstaking actors always do, so you
should be most attentive in the last scenes and conclusion of your function
and business, so that this third year of your government, like a third act in a
play, may appear to have been the most elaborated and most highly
finished. You will do that with more ease if you will think that I, whom you
always wished to please more than all the world besides, am always at your
side, and am taking part in everything you say and do. It remains only to
beg you to take the greatest care of your health, if you wish me and all your
friends to be well also.
Farewell.

XXX (a ii, 4)
This year was a crucial one in the history of the Republic, and b.c. 59.
also of Cicero particularly. It witnessed the working of the Coss., C.
agreement entered into in the previous year between Pompey, Iulius Cæsar,
Cæsar, and Crassus, to secure their several objects, commonly M.
called the First Triumvirate. The determined enmity of the Calpurniu
s Bibulus.
consuls to each other, the high-handed conduct of Cæsar in
regard to the senate, his ultimate appointment to the unusual
period of five years' government of the Gauls and Illyricum,
were so many blows at the old constitution; and scarcely less
offensive to the Catonian Optimates were the agrarian laws
passed in favour of Pompey's veterans, the forcing of his acta
through the senate, and the arrangement whereby he too was
eventually to have the consulship again, and an extended period
of provincial government. Cicero was distracted by hesitation.
He had pinned his faith on Pompey's ultimate opposition to
Cæsar, and yet did not wholly trust him, and was fully aware of
the unpracticable nature of Cato and the weakness of the
Optimates. The triumvirs had an instrument for rendering him
helpless in Clodius, but Cicero could not believe that they would
use it, or that his services to the state could be so far forgotten as
to make danger possible. We shall find him, then, wholly
absorbed in the question as to how far he is to give into or
oppose the triumvirs. It is not till the end of the year that he
begins to see the real danger ahead. We have one extant oration
of this year—pro Flacco—which was not much to his credit, for
Flaccus had evidently been guilty of extortion in Asia. He also
defended the equally guilty C. Antonius in a speech which
brought upon him the vengeance of the triumvirs, but it is
happily lost.

TO ATTICUS (AT ROME)

Tusculum (April)

I am exceedingly obliged to you for sending me Serapio's book, of b.c. 59,
which indeed, between you and me, I scarcely understood a æt. 47
thousandth part. I have ordered the money for it to be paid you at
once, that you may not put it down to the cost of presentation copies. But as
I have mentioned the subject of money, I will beg you to try to come to a
settlement with Titinius in any way you can. If he doesn't stand by his own
proposal, what I should like best is that what he bought at too dear a rate
should be returned, if that can be done with Pomponia's consent: if that too
is impossible, let the money be paid rather than have any difficulty. I should
be very glad if you would settle this before you leave Rome, with your
usual kindness and exactness.
So Clodius, you say, is for Tigranes? I only wish he would go—on the same
terms as the Skepsian![188] But I don't grudge him the job; for a more
convenient time for my taking a "free legation" is when my brother Quintus
shall have settled down again, as I hope, into private life, and I shall have
made certain how that "priest of the Bona Dea"[189] intends to behave.
Meanwhile I shall find my pleasure in the Muses with a mind undisturbed,
or rather glad and cheerful; for it will never occur to me to envy Crassus or
to regret that I have not been false to myself. As to geography, I will try to
satisfy you, but I promise nothing for certain.[190] It is a difficult business,
but nevertheless, as you bid me, I will take care that this country excursion
produces something for you. Mind you let me know any news you have
ferreted out, and especially who you think will be the next consuls.
However, I am not very curious; for I have determined not to think about
politics. I have examined Terentia's woodlands. What need I say? If there
was only a Dodonean oak in them, I should imagine myself to be in
possession of Epirus. About the 1st of the month I shall be either at Formiæ
or Pompeii.[191] If I am not at Formiæ, pray, an you love me, come to
Pompeii. It will be a great pleasure to me and not much out of the way for
you. About the wall, I have given Philotimus orders not to put any difficulty
in the way of your doing whatever you please. I think, however, you had
better call in Vettius.[192] In these bad times, when the life of all the best
men hangs on a thread, I value one summer's enjoyment of my Palatine

palæstra rather highly; but, of course, the last thing I should wish would be
that Pomponia and her boy should live in fear of a falling wall.

XXXI (a ii, 5)
TO ATTICUS (AT ROME)

Antium (April)

I wish very much, and have long wished, to visit Alexandria, and b.c. 59,
at the same time to get away from here, where people are tired of æt. 47
me, and return when they have begun to feel my loss—but at such
a time and at the bidding of such statesmen![193]

"I fear to face the men of Troy
And Trojan matrons with their trailing robes."[194]

For what would my friends the Optimates say—if there are such persons
left? That I had accepted a bribe to change my views?

"Polydamas the first would lay the charge."

I mean my friend Cato, who is as good as a hundred thousand in my eyes.
What, too, will history say of me six hundred years hence? I am much more
afraid of that than of the petty gossip of the men of to-day. But, I think, I
had better lie low and wait. For if it is really offered to me, I shall be to a
certain extent in a position of advantage, and then will be the time to weigh
the matter. There is, upon my word, a certain credit even in refusing.
Wherefore, if Theophanes[195] by chance has consulted you on the matter,
do not absolutely decline. What I am expecting to hear from you is, what
Arrius says, and how he endures being left in the lurch,[196] and who are
intended to be consuls—is it Pompey and Crassus, or, as I am told in a
letter, Servius Sulpicius with Gabinius?—and whether there are any new
laws or anything new at all; and, since Nepos[197] is leaving Rome, who is
to have the augurship—the one bait by which those personages could catch
me! You see what a high price I put on myself! Why do I talk about such
things, which I am eager to throw aside, and to devote myself heart and soul

to philosophy. That, I tell you, is my intention. I could wish I had done so
from the first. Now, however, that I have found by experience the
hollowness of what I thought so splendid, I am thinking of doing business
exclusively with the Muses. In spite of that, please give me in your next
some more definite information about Curtius and who is intended to fill his
place, and what is doing about P. Clodius, and, in fact, take your time and
tell me everything as you promise; and pray write me word what day you
think of leaving Rome, in order that I may tell you where I am likely to be:
and send me a letter at once on the subjects of which I have written to you. I
look forward much to hearing from you.

XXXII (a ii, 6)
TO ATTICUS (AT ROME)

Antium (April)

As to my promise to you in a former letter that there should be b.c. 59,
some product of this country excursion, I cannot confirm it to any æt. 47
great extent: for I have become so attached to idleness that I
cannot be torn from its arms. Accordingly, I either enjoy myself with books,
of which I have a delightful stock at Antium, or I just count the waves—for
the rough weather prevents my shrimping! From writing my mind
positively recoils. For the geographical treatise, upon which I had settled, is
a serious undertaking: so severely is Eratosthenes, whom I had proposed as
my model, criticised by Serapio and Hipparchus: what think you will be the
case if Tyrannio[198] is added to the critics? And, by Hercules, the subject is
difficult of explanation and monotonous, and does not seem to admit of as
much embellishment as I thought, and, in short—which is the chief point—
any excuse for being idle seems to me a good one: for I am even hesitating
as to settling at Antium and spending the rest of my life there, where,
indeed, I would rather have been a duovir[199] than at Rome. You, indeed,
have done more wisely in having made yourself a home at Buthrotum. But,
believe me, next to that free town of yours comes the borough of the
Antiates. Could you have believed that there could be a town so near Rome,
where there are many who have never seen Vatinius? Where there is no one
besides myself who cares whether one of the twenty commissioners[200] is
alive and well? Where no one intrudes upon me, and yet all are fond of me?
This, this is the place to play the statesman in! For yonder, not only am I not
allowed to do so, but I am sick of it besides. Accordingly, I will compose a
book of secret memoirs for your ear alone in the style of Theopompus, or a
more acrid one still.[201] Nor have I now any politics except to hate the
disloyal, and even that without any bitterness, but rather with a certain
enjoyment in writing. But to return to business: I have written to the city

quæstors about my brother's affair. See what they say to it, whether there is
any hope of the cash in denarii, or whether we are to be palmed off with
Pompeian cistophori.[202] Farthermore, settle what is to be done about the
wall. Is there anything else? Yes! Let me know when you are thinking of
starting.

XXXIII (a ii, 7)
TO ATTICUS (AT ROME)

Antium (April)

About the geography I will think again and again. But you ask for b.c. 59,
two of my speeches, one of which I did not care to write out æt. 47
because I had ended it abruptly, the other because I did not want to
praise the man I did not like. But that, too, I will see about. At all events,
something shall be forthcoming to prevent your thinking that I have been
absolutely idle. I am quite delighted to hear what you tell me about Publius;
pray ferret out the whole story, and bring it to me when you come, and
meanwhile write anything you may make out or suspect, and especially as
to what he is going to do about the legation. For my part, before reading
your letter, I was anxious that the fellow should go, not, by heaven, in order
to avoid his impeachment—for I am wonderfully keen to try issues with
him—but it seemed to me that, if he had secured any popularity by
becoming a plebeian, he would thereby lose it. "Well, why did you transfer
yourself to the Plebs? Was it to make a call on Tigranes? Tell me: do the
kings of Armenia refuse to receive patricians?" In a word, I had polished up
my weapons to tear this embassy of his to pieces. But if he rejects it, and
thus moves the anger of those proposers and augurs of the lex curiata,[203] it
will be a fine sight! By Hercules, to speak the truth, our friend Publius is
being treated a little contemptuously! In the first place, though he was once
the only man at Cæsar's house, he is not now allowed to be one in twenty:
[204]
in the next place, one legation had been promised him and another has
been given. The former fine fat one[205] for the levying of money is
reserved, I presume, for Drusus of Pisaurum or for the gourmand Vatinius:
this latter miserable business, which might be very well done by a courier,
is given to him, and his tribuneship deferred till it suits them. Irritate the
fellow, I beg you, as much as you can. The one hope of safety is their
mutual disagreement, the beginning of which I have got scent of from

Curio. Moreover, Arrius is fuming at being cheated out of the consulship.
Megabocchus and our blood-thirsty young men are most violently hostile.
May there be added to this, I pray, may there be added, this quarrel about
the augurate! I hope I shall often have some fine letters to send you on these
subjects. But I want to know the meaning of your dark hint that some even
of the quinqueviri[206] are speaking out. What can it be? If there is anything
in it, there is more hope than I had thought. And I would not have you
believe that I ask you these questions "with any view to action,"[207]
because my heart is yearning to take part in practical politics. I was long
ago getting tired of being at the helm, even when it was in my power. And
now that I am forced to quit the ship, and have not cast aside the tiller, but
have had it wrenched out of my hands, my only wish is to watch their
shipwreck from the shore: I desire, in the words of your favourite
Sophocles,

"And safe beneath the roof
To hear with drowsy ear the plash of rain."

As to the wall, see to what is necessary. I will correct the mistake of
Castricius, and yet Quintus had made it in his letter to me 15,000, while
now to your sister he makes it 30,000.[208] Terentia sends you her regards:
my boy Cicero commissions you to give Aristodemus the same answer for
him as you gave for his cousin, your sister's son.[209] I will not neglect your
reminder about your Amaltheia.[210] Take care of your health.

XXXIV (a ii, 8)
TO ATTICUS (AT ROME)

Antium, April

When I had been eagerly expecting a letter from you as usual till b.c. 59,
evening, lo and behold a message that slaves have come from æt. 47
Rome. I summon them: I ask if they have any letters. "No," say
they. "What do you say," said I, "nothing from Pomponius?" Frightened to
death by my voice and look, they confessed that they had received one, and
that it had been lost on the journey. Need I say more? I was intensely
annoyed. For no letter has come from you for the last few days without
something in it important and entertaining. In these circumstances, if there
was anything in the letter, dated 15th April, worth telling, pray write at
once, that I may not be left in ignorance; but if there was nothing but banter,
repeat even that for my benefit. And let me inform you that young Curio has
been to call on me. What he said about Publius agreed exactly with your
letter. He himself, moreover, wonderfully "holds our proud kings in hate."
[211]
He told me that the young men generally were equally incensed, and
could not put up with the present state of things. If there is hope in them, we
are in a good way. My opinion is that we should leave things to take their
course. I am devoting myself to my memoir. However, though you may
think me a Saufeius,[212] I am really the laziest fellow in the world. But get
into your head my several journeys, that you may settle where you intend to
come and see me. I intend to arrive at my Formian house on the Parilia
(21st April). Next, since you think that at this time I ought to leave out
luxurious Crater,[213] on the 1st of May I leave Formiæ, intending to reach
Antium on the 3rd of May. For there are games at Antium from the 4th to
the 6th of May, and Tullia wants to see them. Thence I think of going to
Tusculum, thence to Arpinum, and be at Rome on the 1st of June. Be sure
that we see you at Formiæ or Antium, or at Tusculum. Rewrite your
previous letter for me, and add something new.

XXXV (a ii, 9)
TO ATTICUS (AT ROME)

Antium, May

Cæcilius[214] the quæstor having suddenly informed me that he b.c. 59,
was sending a slave to Rome, I write these hurried lines in order to æt. 47
get out of you the wonderful conversations with Publius, both
those of which you write, and that one which you keep dark, and assert that
it would be too long to write your answer to him; and, still farther, the one
that has not yet been held, which that Iuno of a woman[215] is to report to
you when she gets back from Solonium. I wish you to believe that there can
be nothing I should like more. If, however, the compact made about me is
not kept, I am in a seventh heaven to think that our friend the Jerusalemitish
plebeian-maker[216] will learn what a fine return he has made to my brilliant
speeches, of which you may expect a splendid recantation. For, as well as I
can guess, if that profligate is in favour with our tyrants, he will be able to
crow not only over the "cynic consular,"[217] but over your Tritons of the
fish-ponds also.[218] For I shall not possibly be an object of anybody's
jealousy when robbed of power and of my influence in the senate. If, on the
other hand, he should quarrel with them, it will not suit his purpose to
attack me. However, let him attack. Charmingly, believe me, and with less
noise than I had thought, has the wheel of the Republic revolved: more
rapidly, anyhow, than it should have done owing to Cato's error, but still
more owing to the unconstitutional conduct of those who have neglected the
auspices, the Ælian law, the Iunian, the Licinian, the Cæcilian and Didian,
[219]
who have squandered all the safeguards of the constitution, who have
handed over kingdoms as though they were private estates to tetrachs,[220]
and immense sums of money to a small coterie. I see plainly now the
direction popular jealousy is taking, and where it will finally settle. Believe
that I have learnt nothing from experience, nothing from Theophrastus,[221]
if you don't shortly see the time of our government an object of regret. For

if the power of the senate was disliked, what do you think will be the case
when it has passed, not to the people, but to three unscrupulous men? So let
them then make whom they choose consuls, tribunes, and even finally
clothe Vatinius's wen with the double-dyed purple[222] of the priesthood,
you will see before long that the great men will be not only those who have
made no false step,[223] but even he who did make a mistake, Cato. For, as
to myself, if your comrade Publius will let me, I think of playing the
sophist: if he forces me, I shall at least defend myself, and, as is the trick of
my trade, I publicly promise to

"Strike back at him who first is wroth with me."[224]

May the country only be on my side: it has had from me, if not more than
its due, at least more than it ever demanded. I would rather have a bad
passage with another pilot than be a successful pilot to such ungrateful
passengers. But this will do better when we meet. For the present take an
answer to your questions. I think of returning to Antium from Formiæ on
the 3rd of May. From Antium I intend to start for Tusculum on the 7th of
May. But as soon as I have returned from Formiæ (I intend to be there till
the 29th of April) I will at once inform you. Terentia sends compliments,
and "Cicero the little greets Titus the Athenian."[225]

XXXVI (a ii, 12)
TO ATTICUS (AT ROME)

Tres Tabernæ, 12 April

Are they going to deny that Publius has been made a plebeian? b.c. 59,
This is indeed playing the king, and is utterly intolerable. Let æt. 47
Publius send some men to witness and seal my affidavit: I will
take an oath that my friend Gnæus, the colleague of Balbus, told me at
Antium that he had been present as augur to take the auspices. Two
delightful letters from you delivered at the same time! For which I do not
know what I am to pay you by way of reward for good news. That I owe
you for them I candidly confess. But observe the coincidence. I had just
made my way from Antium on to the via Appia at Three Taverns,[226] on the
very day of the Cerealia (18th April), when my friend Curio meets me on
his way from Rome. At the same place and the same moment comes a slave
from you with letters. The former asked me whether I hadn't heard the
news? I said, "No." "Publius," says he, "is a candidate for the tribuneship."
"You don't mean it?" "Yes, I do," says he, "and at daggers drawn with
Cæsar. His object is to rescind his acts." "What says Cæsar?" said I. "He
denies having proposed any lex for his adoption." Then he poured forth
about his own hatred, and that of Memmius and Metellus Nepos. I
embraced the youth and said good-bye to him, hastening to your letters. A
fig for those who talk about a "living voice"! What a much clearer view I
got of what was going on from your letters than from his talk! About the
current rumours of the day, about the designs of Publius, about "Iuno's"
trumpet calls, about Athenio who leads his roughs, about his letter to
Gnæus, about the conversation of Theophanes and Memmius. Besides, how
eager you have made me to hear about the "fast" dinner party which you
mention! I am greedy in curiosity, yet I do not feel at all hurt at your not
writing me a description of the symposium: I would rather hear it by word
of mouth. As to your urging me to write something, my material indeed is
growing, as you say, but the whole is still in a state of fermentation—"new

wine in the autumn." When the liquor has settled down and become
clarified, I shall know better what to write. And even if you cannot get it
from me at once, you shall be the first to have it: only for some time you
must keep it to yourself. You are quite right to like Dicæarchus; he is an
excellent writer, and a much better citizen than these rulers of ours who
reverse his name.[227] I write this letter at four o'clock in the afternoon of
the Cerealia (12th April), immediately after reading yours, but I shall
despatch it, I think, to-morrow, by anyone I may chance to meet on the
road. Terentia is delighted with your letter, et Cicéron le philosophe salue
Titus l'homme d'état.

XXXVII (a ii, 10)
TO ATTICUS (AT ROME)

Appii Forum,[228] April

Please admire my consistency. I am determined not to be at the b.c. 59,
games at Antium: for it is somewhat of a solecism to wish to avoid æt. 47
all suspicion of frivolity, and yet suddenly to be shewn up as
travelling for mere amusement, and that of a foolish kind. Wherefore I shall
wait for you till the 7th of May at Formiæ. So now let me know what day
we shall see you. From Appii Forum, ten o'clock. I sent another a short time
ago from Three Taverns.

XXXVIII (a ii, 11)
TO ATTICUS (AT ROME)

Formiæ, April

I tell you what it is: I feel myself a downright exile since arriving b.c. 59,
at Formiæ. For at Antium there was never a day that I didn't know æt. 47
what was going on at Rome better than those who were there. For
your letters used to shew me not only what was doing at Rome, but the
actual political situation also—and not only that, but also what was likely to
happen. Now, unless I snatch a bit of news from some passing traveller, I
can learn nothing at all. Wherefore, though I am expecting you in person,
yet pray give this boy, whom I have ordered to hurry back to me at once, a
bulky letter, crammed not only with all occurrences, but with what you
think about them; and be careful to let me know the day you are going to
leave Rome. I intend staying at Formiæ till the 6th of May. If you don't
come there by that day, I shall perhaps see you at Rome. For why should I
invite you to Arpinum?

"A rugged soil, yet nurse of hardy sons:
No dearer land can e'er my eyes behold."[229]

So much for this. Take care of your health.

XXXIX (a ii, 13)
TO ATTICUS (AT ROME)

Formiæ, April

What an abominable thing! No one gave you my letter written on b.c. 59,
the spot at Three Taverns in answer to your delightful letters! But æt. 47
the fact is that the packet into which I had put it arrived at my
town house on the same day as I wrote it, and has been brought back to me
to Formiæ. Accordingly, I have directed the letter meant for you to be taken
back again, to shew you how pleased I was with yours. So you say that the
talk has died out at Rome! I thought so: but, by Hercules, it hasn't died out
in the country, and it has come to this, that the very country can't stand the
despotism you have got at Rome. When you come to "Læstrygonia of the
distant gates"[230]—I mean Formiæ—what loud murmurs! what angry
souls! what unpopularity for our friend Magnus! His surname is getting as
much out of fashion as the "Dives" of Crassus. Believe me, I have met no
one here to take the present state of things as quietly as I do. Wherefore,
credit me, let us stick to philosophy. I am ready to take my oath that there is
nothing to beat it. If you have a despatch to send to the Sicyonians,[231]
make haste to Formiæ, whence I think of going on the 6th of May.

XL (a ii, 14)
TO ATTICUS (AT ROME)

Formiæ, April

How you rouse my curiosity as to what Bibulus says, as to your b.c. 59,
conversation with "Iuno," and even as to your "fast" dinner party! æt. 47.
Therefore make haste to come, for my ears are thirsty for news.
However, there is nothing which I think is now more to be dreaded by me
than that our dear Sampsiceramus, finding himself belaboured by the
tongues of all, and seeing these proceedings easy to upset, should begin
striking out. For myself, I have so completely lost all nerve, that I prefer a
despotism, with the existing peace, to a state of war with the best hopes in
the world. As to literary composition, to which you frequently urge me, it is
impossible! My house is a basilica rather than a villa, owing to the crowds
of visitors from Formiæ. But (you'll say) do I really compare the Æmilian
tribe to the crowd in a basilica?[232] Well, I say nothing about the common
ruck—the rest of them don't bother me after ten o'clock: but C. Arrius is my
next door neighbour, or rather, he almost lives in my house, and even
declares that the reason for his not going to Rome is that he may spend
whole days with me here philosophizing! And then, lo and behold, on my
other side is Sebosus, that friend of Catulus! Which way am I to turn? By
heaven, I would start at once for Arpinum, only that I see that the most
convenient place to await your visit is Formiæ: but only up to the 6th of
May! For you see with what bores my ears are pestered. What a splendid
opportunity, with such fellows in the house, if anyone wanted to buy my
Formian property![233] And in spite of all this am I to make good my words,
"Let us attempt something great, and requiring much thought and leisure"?
However, I will do something for you, and not spare my labour.

XLI (a ii, 15)
TO ATTICUS (AT ROME)

Formiæ, April

As you say, things are as shifting (I see) in public affairs as in your b.c. 59,
letter; still, that very variety of talk and opinion has a charm for æt. 47
me. For I seem to be at Rome when I am reading your letter, and,
as is the regular thing in questions of such importance, to hear something
first on one side and then on the other. But what I can't make out is this—
what he can possibly hit upon to settle the land question without
encountering opposition. Again, as to Bibulus's firmness in putting off the
comitia, it only conveys the expression of his own views, without really
offering any remedy for the state of the Republic. Upon my word, my only
hope is in Publius! Let him become, let him become a tribune by all means,
if for no other reason, yet that you may be brought back from Epirus! For I
don't see how you can possibly afford to miss him, especially if he shall
elect to have a wrangle with me! But, seriously, if anything of the sort
occurs, you would, I am certain, hurry back. But even supposing this not to
be the case, yet whether he runs amuck or helps to raise the state, I promise
myself a fine spectacle, if only I may enjoy it with you sitting by my side.
[234]
Just as I was writing these words, enter Sebosus! I had scarcely got out
a sigh when "Good day," says Arrius. This is what you call going out of
town! I shall really be off to

"My native mountains and my childhood's haunts."[235]

In fine, if I can't be alone I would rather be with downright countryfolk than
with such ultra-cockneys. However, I shall, since you don't say anything for
certain, wait for you up to the 5th of May. Terentia is much pleased with the
attention and care you have bestowed on her controversy with Mulvius. She
is not aware that you are supporting the common cause of all holders of
public land. Yet, after all, you do pay something to the publicani; she

declines to pay even that,[236] and, accordingly, she and Cicero—most
conservative of boys—send their kind regards.

XLII (a ii, 16)
TO ATTICUS (AT ROME)

Formiæ, 29 April

On the day before the Kalends of May, when I had dined and was b.c. 59,
just going to sleep, the letter was delivered to me containing your æt. 47
news about the Campanian land. You needn't ask: at first it gave
me such a shock that there was no more sleep for me, though that was the
result of thought rather than pain. On reflexion, however, the following
ideas occurred to me. In the first place, from what you had said in your
previous letter—"that you had heard from a friend of his[237] that a proposal
was going to be made which would satisfy everybody"—I had feared some
very sweeping measure, but I don't think this is anything of the sort. In the
next place, by way of consolation, I persuaded myself that the hope of a
distribution of land is now all centred on the Campanian territory.[238] That
land cannot support more than 5,000, so as to give ten iugera apiece:[239]
the rest of the crowd of expectants must necessarily be alienated from them.
Besides, if there is anything that more than another could inflame the
feeling of the aristocrats, who are, I notice, already irritated, it is this; and
all the more that with port-dues in Italy abolished,[240] and the Campanian
land divided, what home revenue is there except the five per cent. on
manumissions? And even that, I think, it will only take a single trumpery
harangue, cheered by our lackeys, to throw away also. What our friend
Gnæus can be thinking of I can't imagine—

"For still he blows, and with no slender pipe,
But furious blasts by no mouth-band restrained"—

to be induced to countenance such a measure as that. For hitherto he has
fenced with these questions: "he approved Cæsar's laws, but Cæsar must be
responsible for his proceedings in carrying them"; "he himself was satisfied
with the agrarian law"; "whether it could be vetoed by a tribune or no was

nothing to do with him"; "he thought the time had come for the business of
the Alexandrine king to be settled"; "it was no business of his to inquire
whether Bibulus had been watching the sky on that occasion or no"; "as to
the publicani, he had been willing to oblige that order"; "what was going to
happen if Bibulus came down to the forum at that time he could not have
guessed."[241] But now, my Sampsiceramus, what will you say to this? That
you have secured us a revenue from the Antilibanus and removed that from
the Campanian land? Well, how do you mean to vindicate that? "I shall
coerce you," says he, "by means of Cæsar's army." You won't coerce me, by
Hercules, by your army so much as by the ingratitude of the so-called boni,
who have never made me any return, even in words, to say nothing of
substantial rewards. But if I had put out my strength against that coterie, I
should certainly have found some way of holding my own against them. As
things are, in view of the controversy between your friend Dicæarchus and
my friend Theophrastus—the former recommending the life of action, the
latter the life of contemplation—I think I have already obeyed both. For as
to Dicæarchus, I think I have satisfied his requirements; at present my eyes
are fixed on the school which not only allows of my abstaining from
business, but blames me for not having always done so. Wherefore let me
throw myself, my dear Titus, into those noble studies, and let me at length
return to what I ought never to have left.
As to what you say about Quintus's letter, when he wrote to me he was also
"in front a lion and behind a ——."[242] I don't know what to say about it;
for in the first lines of his letter he makes such a lamentation over his
continuance in his province, that no one could help being affected: presently
he calms down sufficiently to ask me to correct and edit his Annals.
However, I would wish you to have an eye to what you mention, I mean the
duty on goods transferred from port to port. He says that by the advice of
his council he has referred the question to the senate. He evidently had not
read my letter, in which after having considered and investigated the matter,
I had sent him a written opinion that they were not payable.[243] If any
Greeks have already arrived at Rome from Asia on that business, please
look into it and, if you think it right, explain to them my opinion on the
subject. If, to save the good cause in the senate, I can retract, I will gratify
the publicani: but if not, to be plain with you, I prefer in this matter the
interests of all Asia and the merchants; for it affects the latter also very

seriously. I think it is a matter of great importance to us. But you will settle
it. Are the quæstors, pray, still hesitating on the cistophorus question?[244] If
nothing better is to be had, after trying everything in our power, I should be
for not refusing even the lowest offer. I shall see you at Arpinum and offer
you country entertainment, since you have despised this at the seaside.

XLIII (a ii, 17)
TO ATTICUS (AT ROME)

Formiæ, May

I quite agree with your letter. Sampsiceramus is getting up a b.c. 59,
disturbance. We have everything to fear. He is preparing a æt. 47
despotism and no mistake about it. For what else is the meaning of
that sudden marriage union,[245] the Campanian land affair, the lavish
expenditure of money? If these measures were final, even then the mischief
had been very great; but the nature of the case makes finality impossible.
For how could these measures possibly give them any pleasure in
themselves? They would never have gone so far as this unless they had
been paving the way for other fatal steps. Immortal Gods!—But, as you say,
at Arpinum about the 10th of May we will not weep over these questions,
lest the hard work and midnight oil I have spent over my studies shall turn
out to have been wasted, but discuss them together calmly. For I am not so
much consoled by a sanguine disposition as by philosophic "indifference,"
[246]
which I call to my aid in nothing so much as in our civil and political
business. Nay, more, whatever vanity or sneaking love of reputation there is
lurking in me—for it is well to know one's faults—is tickled by a certain
pleasurable feeling. For it used to sting me to the heart to think that
centuries hence the services of Sampsiceramus to the state would loom
larger than my own. That anxiety, at least, is now put to rest. For he is so
utterly fallen that, in comparison with him, Curius might seem to be
standing erect after his fall.[247] But all this when we meet. Yet, as far as I
can see, you will be at Rome when I come. I shall not be at all sorry for
that, if you can conveniently manage it. But if you come to see me, as you
say in your letter, I wish you would fish out of Theophanes how
"Arabarches"[248] is disposed to me. You will, of course, inquire with your
usual zeal, and bring me the result to serve as a kind of suggestion for the

line of conduct I am to adopt. From his conversation we shall be able to get
an inkling of the whole situation.

XLIV (a ii, 18)
TO ATTICUS (ON HIS WAY TO EPIRUS)

Rome

I have received several letters from you, which shewed me with b.c. 59,
what eagerness and anxiety you desired to know the news. We are æt. 47
bound hard and fast on every side, and are no longer making any
difficulty as to being slaves, but fearing death and exile as though greater
evils, though they are in fact much smaller ones. Well, this is the position—
one unanimously groaned over, but not relieved by a word from anyone.
The object, I surmise, of the men in power is to leave nothing for anyone to
lavish. The only man who opens his mouth and openly disapproves is the
young Curio. He is loudly cheered, and greeted in the forum in the most
complimentary manner, and many other tokens of goodwill are bestowed on
him by the loyalists; while Fufius[249] is pursued with shouts, jeers, and
hisses. From such circumstances it is not hope but indignation that is
increased, for you see the citizens allowed to express their sentiments, but
debarred from carrying them out with any vigour. And to omit details, the
upshot is that there is now no hope, I don't say of private persons, but even
of the magistrates being ever free again. Nevertheless, in spite of this policy
of repression, conversation, at least in society and at dinner tables, is freer
than it was. Indignation is beginning to get the better of fear, though that
does not prevent a universal feeling of despair. For this Campanian law[250]
contains a clause imposing an oath to be taken by candidates in public
meeting, that they will not suggest any tenure of public land other than that
provided in the Julian laws. All the others take the oath without hesitation:
Laterensis[251] is considered to have shewn extraordinary virtue in retiring
from his canvass for the tribuneship to avoid the oath. But I don't care to
write any more about politics. I am dissatisfied with myself, and cannot
write without the greatest pain. I hold my own position with some dignity,
considering the general repression, but considering my achievements in the

past, with less courage than I should like. I am invited by Cæsar in a very
gentlemanly manner to accept a legation, to act as legatus to himself, and
even an "open votive legation" is offered me. But the latter does not give
sufficient security, since it depends too much on the scrupulousness of
Pulchellus[252] and removes me just when my brother is returning;[253] the
former offers better security and does not prevent my returning when I
please. I am retaining the latter, but do not think I shall use it. However,
nobody knows about it. I don't like running away; I am itching to fight.
There is great warmth of feeling for me. But I don't say anything positive:
you will please not to mention it. I am, in fact, very anxious about the
manumission of Statius[254] and some other things, but I have become
hardened by this time. I could wish, or rather ardently desire, that you were
here: then I should not want advice or consolation. But anyhow, be ready to
fly hither directly I call for you.

XLV (a ii, 19)
TO ATTICUS (IN EPIRUS)

Rome (July)

I have many causes for anxiety, both from the disturbed state of b.c. 59,
politics and from the personal dangers with which I am æt. 47
threatened. They are very numerous; but nothing gives me more
annoyance than the manumission of Statius: "To think that he should have
no reverence for my authority! But of authority I say nothing—that he
should have no fear of a quarrel with me, to put it mildly!"[255] But what I
am to do I don't know, nor indeed is there so much in the affair as you
would think from the talk about it. For myself, I am positively incapable of
being angry with those I love deeply. I only feel vexed, and that to a
surprising degree. Other vexations are on really important matters. The
threats of Clodius and the conflicts before me touch me only slightly. For I
think I can either confront them with perfect dignity or decline them
without any embarrassment. You will say, perhaps, "Enough of dignity, like
the proverb, 'Enough of the oak':[256] an you love me, take thought for
safety!" Ah, dear me, dear me, why are you not here? Nothing, certainly,
could have escaped you. I, perhaps, am somewhat blinded, and too much
affected by my high ideal. I assure you there never was anything so
scandalous, so shameful, so offensive to all sorts, conditions and ages of
men alike, as the present state of affairs. It is more so, by Hercules, than I
could have wished, but not more than I had expected. Your populares have
now taught even usually quiet men to hiss. Bibulus is praised to the skies: I
don't know why, but he has the same sort of applause as his

"Who by delays restored alone our State."[257]

Pompey—the man I loved—has, to my infinite sorrow, ruined his own
reputation. They hold no one by affection, and I fear they will be forced to
use terror. I, however, refrain from hostility to their cause owing to my

friendship for him, and yet I cannot approve, lest I should stultify my own
past. The feeling of the people was shewn as clearly as possible in the
theatre and at the shows. For at the gladiators both master and supporters
were overwhelmed with hisses. At the games of Apollo the actor Diphilus
made a pert allusion to Pompey, in the words:

"By our misfortunes thou art—Great."

He was encored countless times. When he delivered the line,

"The time will come when thou wilt deeply mourn
That self-same valour,"

the whole theatre broke out into applause, and so on with the rest. For the
verses do seem exactly as though they were written by some enemy of
Pompey's to hit the time. "If neither laws nor customs can control," etc.,
caused great sensation and loud shouts. Cæsar having entered as the
applause died away, he was followed by the younger Curio. The latter
received an ovation such as used to be given to Pompey when the
constitution was still intact. Cæsar was much annoyed. A despatch is said to
have been sent flying off to Pompey at Capua.[258] They are offended with
the equites, who rose to their feet and cheered Curio, and are at war with
everybody. They are threatening the Roscian law,[259] and even the corn
law.[260] There has been a great hubbub altogether. For my part, I should
have preferred their doings being silently ignored; but that, I fear, won't be
allowed. Men are indignant at what nevertheless must, it seems, be put up
with. The whole people have indeed now one voice, but its strength depends
rather on exasperation than anything to back it up. Farthermore, our Publius
is threatening me: he is hostile, and a storm is hanging over my head which
should bring you post haste to town. I believe that I am still firmly
supported by the same phalanx of all loyal or even tolerably loyal men
which supported me when consul. Pompey displays no common affection
for me. He also asserts that Clodius is not going to say a word about me. In
which he is not deceiving me, but is himself deceived. Cosconius having
died, I am invited to fill his place.[261] That would indeed be a case of
"invited to a dead man's place." I should have been beneath contempt in the
eyes of the world, and nothing could be conceived less likely to secure that

very "personal safety" of which you speak. For those commissioners are
disliked by the loyalists, and so I should have retained my own unpopularity
with the disloyal, with the addition of that attaching to others. Cæsar wishes
me to accept a legateship under him. This is a more honourable method of
avoiding the danger. But I don't wish to avoid it. What do I want, then?
Why, I prefer fighting. However, I have not made up my mind. Again I say,
Oh that you were here! However, if it is absolutely necessary I will summon
you. What else is there to say? What else? This, I think: I am certain that all
is lost. For why mince matters any longer? But I write this in haste, and, by
Hercules, in rather a nervous state. On some future occasion I will either
write to you at full length, if I find a very trustworthy person to whom to
give a letter, or if I write darkly you will understand all the same. In these
letters I will be Lælius, you Furius; the rest shall be in riddles. Here I
cultivate Cæcilius,[262] and pay him assiduous attention. I hear Bibulus's
edicts have been sent to you. Our friend Pompey is hot with indignation and
wrath at them.[263]

XLVI (a ii, 20)
TO ATTICUS (IN EPIRUS)

Rome (July)

I have done everything I could for Anicatus, as I understood was b.c. 59,
your wish. Numestius, in accordance with your earnestly æt. 47
expressed letter, I have adopted as a friend. Cæcilius I look after
diligently in all ways possible. Varro[264] does all I could expect for me.
Pompey loves me and regards me as a dear friend. "Do you believe that?"
you will say. I do: he quite convinces me. But seeing that men of the world
in all histories, precepts, and even verses, are for ever bidding one be on
one's guard and forbidding belief, I carry out the former—"to be on my
guard"—the latter—"to disbelieve"[265]—I cannot carry out. Clodius is still
threatening me with danger. Pompey asserts that there is no danger. He
swears it. He even adds that he will himself be murdered by him sooner
than I injured. The negotiation is going on. As soon as anything is settled I
will write you word. If I have to fight, I will summon you to share in the
work. If I am let alone, I won't rout you out of your "Amaltheia." About
politics I will write briefly: for I am now afraid lest the very paper should
betray me. Accordingly, in future, if I have anything more to write to you, I
shall clothe it in covert language. For the present the state is dying of a
novel disorder; for although everybody disapproves of what has been done,
complains, and is indignant about it, and though there is absolutely no
difference of opinion on the subject, and people now speak openly and
groan aloud, yet no remedy is applied: for we do not think resistance
possible without a general slaughter, nor see what the end of concession is
to be except ruin. Bibulus is exalted to the skies as far as admiration and
affection go. His edicts and speeches are copied out and read. He has
reached the summit of glory in a novel way. There is now nothing so
popular as the dislike of the popular party. I have my fears as to how this
will end. But if I ever see my way clearly in anything, I will write to you
more explicitly. For yourself, if you love me as much as I am sure you do,

take care to be ready to come in all haste as soon as I call for you. But I do
my best, and shall do so, to make it unnecessary. I said I would call you
Furius in my letters, but it is not necessary to change your name. I'll call
myself Lælius and you Atticus, but I will use neither my own handwriting
nor seal, if the letter happens to be such as I should not wish to fall into the
hands of a stranger. Diodotus is dead; he has left me perhaps 1,000 sestertia.
Bibulus has postponed the elections to the 18th of October, in an edict
expressed in the vein of Archilochus.[266] I have received the books from
Vibius: he is a miserable poet,[267] but yet he is not without some
knowledge nor wholly useless. I am going to copy the book out and send it
back.

XLVII (a ii, 21)
TO ATTICUS (IN EPIRUS)

Rome (July)

Why should I write to you on the Republic in detail? It is utterly b.c. 59,
ruined; and is, so far, in a worse state than when you left it, that æt. 47
then a despotism seemed to be oppressing it which was popular
with the multitude, and though offensive to the loyalists, yet short of actual
mischief; but now all on a sudden they have become so universally hated,
that I tremble to think what will be the end of it. For we have had
experience of those men's resentment and violence, who have ruined
everything in their anger against Cato; yet they were employing such slow
poisons, that it seemed as though our end might be painless. Now, however,
I fear they have been exasperated by the hisses of the crowd, the talk of the
respectable classes, and the murmurs of Italy. For my part, I was in hopes,
as I often used actually to say to you, that the wheel of the state chariot had
made its revolution with scarcely any noise and leaving scarcely any visible
rut; and it would have been so, if people could only have waited till the
storm had blown over. But after sighing in secret for a long time they all
began, first to groan, and at last to talk and shout. Accordingly, that friend
of ours, unaccustomed to being unpopular, always used to an atmosphere of
praise, and revelling in glory, now disfigured in body and broken in spirit,
does not know which way to turn; sees that to go on is dangerous, to return
a betrayal of vacillation; has the loyalists his enemies, the disloyal
themselves not his friends. Yet see how soft-hearted I am. I could not
refrain from tears when, on the 25th of July, I saw him making a speech on
the edicts of Bibulus. The man who in old times had been used to bear
himself in that place with the utmost confidence and dignity, surrounded by
the warmest affection of the people, amidst universal favour—how humble,
how cast down he was then! How ill-content with himself, to say nothing of
how unpleasing to his audience! Oh, what a spectacle! No one could have
liked it but Crassus—no one else in the world! Not I, for considering his

headlong descent from the stars, he seemed to me to have lost his footing
rather than to have been deliberately following a path; and, as Apelles, if he
had seen his Venus, or Protogenes his Ialysus daubed with mud, would, I
presume, have felt great sorrow, so neither could I behold without great
sorrow a man, portrayed and embellished with all the colours of my art,
suddenly disfigured. Although no one thought, in view of the Clodius
business, that I was bound to be his friend, yet so great was my affection for
him, that no amount of injury was capable of making it run dry. The result
is that those Archilochian edicts of Bibulus against him are so popular, that
one can't get past the place where they are put up for the crowd of readers,
and so deeply annoying to himself that he is pining with vexation. To me,
by Hercules, they are distressing, both because they give excessive pain to a
man whom I have always loved, and because I fear lest one so impulsive
and so quick to strike, and so unaccustomed to personal abuse, may, in his
passionate resentment, obey the dictates of indignation and anger. I don't
know what is to be the end of Bibulus. As things stand at present he is
enjoying a wonderful reputation. For on his having postponed the comitia to
October, as that is a measure which is always against the popular feeling,
Cæsar had imagined that the assembly could be induced by a speech of his
to go to Bibulus's house; but after a long harangue full of seditious
suggestions, he failed to extract a word from anyone. In short, they feel that
they do not possess the cordial goodwill of any section: all the more must
we fear some act of violence. Clodius is hostile to us. Pompey persists in
asserting that he will do nothing against me. It is risky for me to believe
that, and I am preparing myself to meet his attack. I hope to have the
warmest feelings of all orders on my side. I have personally a longing for
you, and circumstances also demand your presence at that time. I shall feel
it a very great addition to my policy, to my courage, and, in a word, to my
safety, if I see you in time. Varro does all I can expect. Pompey talks like an
angel. I have hopes that I shall come off with flying colours, or at any rate
without being molested. Be sure and tell me how you are, how you are
amusing yourself, and what settlement you have come to with the
Sicyonians.

XLVIII (a ii, 22)
TO ATTICUS (IN EPIRUS)

Rome (July)

How I wished you had stayed at Rome! I am sure you would have b.c. 59,
stayed if you had foreseen what was going to happen. For then we æt. 47
should have had no difficulty in keeping "Pulchellus" in order, or
at least should have known what he was going to do. As things are, he darts
about, talks like a madman, never sticks to anything: threatens now this one
and now that: seems likely, in reality, to do whatever turns up. When he
sees how unpopular the present state of things is, he seems to intend an
attack upon the authors of it; but when he again recalls their power and
armies, he transfers his hostility to the loyalists. Me personally he threatens
at one time with violence, at another with impeachment. With him Pompey
has remonstrated, and, as he tells me himself—for I have no other evidence
—has urgently remonstrated, pointing out that he would himself lie under
the extreme imputation of perfidy and unprincipled conduct, if any danger
to me were created by the man whom he had himself armed by acquiescing
in his becoming a plebeian: that both he and Appius[268] had pledged
themselves in regard to me: if Clodius did not respect that, he should shew
such annoyance that everyone would understand that he valued my
friendship above everything. Having said this and much else to the same
effect, he told me that the fellow at first argued against it at great length and
for a long time, but eventually gave way and declared that he would do
nothing against his wishes. Nevertheless, he has not ceased since then
speaking of me with the greatest bitterness. But even if he had not done so,
I should have felt no confidence in him, but should have been making every
preparation, as in fact I am doing. As it is, I am so conducting myself that
every day the affections of people towards me and the strength of my
position are enhanced. I don't touch politics in any shape or way; I employ
myself with the greatest assiduity in pleading causes and in my regular
forensic business.[269] And this I feel is extremely gratifying, not only to
those who enjoy my services, but also to the people generally. My house is
crowded; I am met by processions; the memory of my consulship is
renewed; men's feelings are clearly shewn: my hopes are so raised, that the
struggle hanging over me seems at times one from which I need not shrink.
Now is the time that I need your advice, your love and fidelity. Wherefore
come post haste! Everything will be easy for me if I have you. I can carry
on many negotiations through our friend Varro, which will be on firmer
ground with you to back them up; a great deal can be elicited from Publius

himself, and be brought to my knowledge, which cannot possibly be kept
concealed from you; a great deal also—but it is absurd to enumerate
particulars, when I want you for everything. I would like you to be
convinced of this above all, that everything will be simplified for me if I see
you: but it all turns on this coming to pass before he enters on his office. I
think that if you are here while Crassus is egging on Pompey—as you can
get out of Clodius himself, by the agency of "Iuno,"[270] how far they are
acting in good faith—we shall escape molestation, or at any rate not be left
under a delusion. You don't stand in need of entreaties or urgency from me.
You understand what my wish is, and what the hour and the importance of
the business demand. As to politics, I can tell you nothing except that
everybody entertains the greatest detestation for those who are masters of
everything. There is, however, no hope of a change. But, as you easily
understand, Pompey himself is discontented and extremely dissatisfied with
himself. I don't see clearly what issue to expect: but certainly such a state of
affairs seems likely to lead to an outbreak of some sort. Alexander's
books[271]—a careless writer and a poor poet, and yet not without some
useful information—I have sent back to you. I have had pleasure in
admitting Numerius Numestius to my friendship, and I find him a man of
character and good sense, worthy of your recommendation.

XLIX (a ii, 23)
TO ATTICUS (IN EPIRUS)

Rome (July or August)

I don't think you have ever before read a letter of mine not written b.c. 59,
by my own hand. You will be able to gather from that how I am æt. 47
distracted with business. For as I had not a moment to spare and
was obliged to take a walk in order to refresh my poor voice, I have dictated
this while walking. The first thing, then, which I wish you to know is that
our friend "Sampsiceramus" is exceedingly dissatisfied with his position,
and desires to be restored to the place from which he has fallen; that he
confides his annoyance to me, and is without disguise seeking for a remedy
—which I don't think can be found. The second thing is that all on that side,
whether promoters or mere hangers-on, are falling out of fashion, though no
one opposes them: there never was a greater unanimity of feeling or talk
everywhere. For myself (for I am sure you wish to know it) I take part in no
political deliberations, and have devoted myself entirely to my forensic
business and work. Thereby, as may easily be understood, I have frequent
occasion to refer to my past achievements and to express my regret. But the
brother of our "Iuno" is giving utterance to all kinds of alarming threats,
and, while disclaiming them to "Sampsiceramus," makes an open avowal
and parade of them to others. Wherefore, loving me as much as I know you
do, if you are asleep, wake up; if you are standing, start walking; if you are
walking, set off running; if you are running, take wings and fly. You can
scarcely believe how much I confide in your advice and wisdom, and above
all in your affection and fidelity. The importance of the interests involved
perhaps demands a long disquisition, but the close union of our hearts is
contented with brevity. It is of very great importance to me that, if you can't
be at Rome at the elections, you should at least be here after his election is
declared.[272] Take care of your health.

L (a ii, 24)
TO ATTICUS (IN EPIRUS)

Rome (July or August)

In the letter which I delivered to Numestius I begged you to come b.c. 59,
back, in the most urgent and vehement terms it was possible to æt. 47
use. To the speed which I then enjoined even add something if you
possibly can. And yet do not be agitated, for I know you well, and am not
ignorant of "how love is all compact of thought and fear." But the matter, I
hope, is going to be less formidable in the end than it was at its beginning.
That fellow Vettius, our old informer, promised Cæsar, as far as I can make
out, that he would secure young Curio being brought under some suspicion
of guilt. Accordingly, he wormed his way into intimacy with the young
man, and having, as is proved, often met him, at last went the length of
telling him that he had resolved by the help of his slaves to make an attack
upon Pompey and assassinate him. Curio reported this to his father, the
latter to Pompey. The matter was reported to the senate. Vettius, on being
brought in, at first denied that he had ever had any appointment with Curio.
However, he did not long stick to that, but immediately claimed the
protection of the state as giving information. There was a shout of "no" to
this;[273] but he went on to state that there had been a confederacy of young
men under the leadership of Curio, to which Paullus had at first belonged,
and Q. Cæpio (I mean Brutus[274]) and Lentulus, son of the flamen, with the
privity of his father: that afterwards C. Septimius, secretary to Bibulus, had
brought him a dagger from Bibulus. That made the whole thing ridiculous,
as though Vettius would have been at a loss for a dagger unless the consul
had given him one; and it was all the more scouted because on the 5th of
May Bibulus had told Pompey to be on his guard against plots; on which
occasion Pompey had thanked him. Young Curio, being brought into the
senate, spoke in answer to the allegations of Vettius; and on this particular
occasion the strongest thing against Vettius was his having said that the plan
of the young men was to attack Pompey in the forum, with the help of

Gabinius's gladiators,[275] and that in this the ring-leader was Paullus, who
was ascertained to have been in Macedonia at that time. A decree of the
senate is passed that "Vettius, having confessed to having 'worn a
dagger,'[276] should be cast into prison; that anyone releasing him would be
guilty of treason to the state." The opinion generally held is that the whole
affair had been arranged. Vettius was to be caught in the forum with a
dagger, and his slaves also with weapons, and he was then to offer to lay an
information; and this would have been carried out, had not the Curios given
Pompey previous information. Presently the decree of the senate was read
in public assembly. Next day, however, Cæsar—the man who formerly as
prætor had bidden Q. Catulus[277] speak on the ground below—now
brought Vettius on to the rostra, and placed him on an elevation to which
Bibulus, though consul, was prevented from aspiring. Here that fellow said
exactly what he chose about public affairs, and, having come there primed
and instructed, first struck Cæpio's name out of his speech, though he had
named him most emphatically in the senate, so that it was easy to see that a
night and a nocturnal intercession[278] had intervened: next he named
certain men on whom he had not cast even the slightest suspicion in the
senate: L. Lucullus, by whom he said that C. Fannius was usually sent to
him—the man who on a former occasion had backed a prosecution of
Clodius; L. Domitius, whose house had been agreed on as the headquarters
of the conspirators. Me he did not name, but he said that "an eloquent
consular, who lived near the consul, had said to him that there was need of
some Servilius Ahala or Brutus being found."[279] He added at the very end,
on being recalled by Vatinius after the assembly had been dismissed, that he
had been told by Curio that my son-in-law Piso was privy to these
proceedings, as M. Laterensis also. At present Vettius is on trial for
"violence" before Crassus Dives,[280] and when condemned he intends to
claim the impunity of an informer; and if he obtains that, there seem likely
to be some prosecutions. I don't despise the danger, for I never despise any
danger, but neither do I much fear it. People indeed shew very great
affection for me, but I am quite tired of life: such a scene of misery is it all.
It was only the other day that we were fearing a massacre, which the speech
of that gallant old man Q. Considius prevented:[281] now this one, which we
might have feared any day, has suddenly turned up. In short, nothing can be
more unfortunate than I, or more fortunate than Catulus, both in the

splendour of his life and in the time of his death. However, in the midst of
these miseries I keep my spirit erect and undismayed, and maintain my
position in a most dignified manner and with great caution. Pompey bids
me have no anxiety about Clodius, and shews the most cordial goodwill to
me in everything he says. I desire to have you to suggest my policy, to be
the partner in my anxieties, and to share my every thought. Therefore I have
commissioned Numestius to urge you, and I now entreat you with the same
or, if possible, greater earnestness, to literally fly to us. I shall breathe again
when I once see you.

LI (a ii, 25)
TO ATTICUS (IN EPIRUS)

Rome (July or August)

When I have praised any one of your friends to you I should like b.c. 59,
you tell him that I have done so. For instance, you know I lately æt. 47
wrote to you about Varro's kindness to me, and that you wrote me
back word that the circumstance gave you the greatest delight. But I should
have preferred your writing to him and saying that he was doing all I could
expect—not because he was, but in order that he might do so. For he is a
man of astonishing whims, as you know, "tortuous and no wise——."[282]
But I stick to the rule "Follies of those in power," etc.[283] But, by Hercules,
that other friend of yours, Hortalus—with what a liberal hand, with what
candour, and in what ornate language has he praised me to the skies, when
speaking of the prætorship of Flaccus and that incident of the Allobroges.
[284]
I assure you nothing could have been more affectionate,
complimentary, or more lavishly expressed. I very much wish that you
would write and tell him that I sent you word of it. Yet why write? I think
you are on your way and are all but here. For I have urged you so strongly
to come in my previous letters. I am expecting you with great impatience,
longing for you very much; nor do I call for you more than circumstances
themselves and the state of the times. Nothing can be more desperate than
the position of politics, nothing more unpopular than the authors of it, I—as
I think, hope, and imagine—am safe behind a rampart of goodwill of the
strongest kind. Wherefore fly to me: you will either relieve me from all
annoyance or will share it. My letter is all the shorter because, as I hope, I
shall be able in a very short time to talk over what I want to say face to face.
Take care of your health.

LII (q fr i, 2)
TO HIS BROTHER QUINTUS (IN ASIA)

Rome, 26 October

Statius arrived at my house on the 25th October. His arrival gave b.c. 59,
me uneasiness, because you said in your letter that you would be æt. 47
plundered by your household in his absence. However, I thought it
a very happy circumstance that he anticipated the expectation of his arrival,
and the company that would have assembled to meet him, if he had left the
province with you, and had not appeared before. For people have exhausted
their remarks, and many observations have been made and done with of the
"Nay, but I looked for a mighty man"[285] kind, which I am glad to have all
over before you come. But as for the motive for your sending him—that he
might clear himself with me—that was not at all necessary. For, to begin
with, I had never suspected him, nor in what I wrote to you about him was I
expressing my own judgment; but since the interest and safety of all of us
who take part in public business depends, not on truth alone, but on report
also, I wrote you word of what people were saying, not what I thought
myself. How prevalent and how formidable that talk was Statius ascertained
himself on his arrival. For he was present when certain persons at my house
gave vent to some complaints on that very subject, and had the opportunity
of perceiving that the observations of the malevolent were being directed at
himself especially. But it used to annoy me most when I was told that he
had greater influence with you, than your sober time of life and the wisdom
of a governor required. How many people, do you suppose, have solicited
me to give them a letter of introduction to Statius? How often, do you
suppose, has he himself, while talking without reserve to me, made such
observations as, "I never approved of that," "I told him so," "I tried to
persuade him," "I warned him not to"? And even if these things shew the
highest fidelity, as I believe they do, since that is your judgment, yet the
mere appearance of a freedman or slave enjoying such influence cannot but
lower your dignity: and the long and short of it is—for I am in duty bound

not to say anything without good grounds, nor to keep back anything from
motives of policy—that Statius has supplied all the material for the gossip
of those who wished to decry you; that formerly all that could be made out
was that certain persons were angry at your strictness; but that after his
manumission the angry had something to talk about.
Now I will answer the letters delivered to me by L. Cæsius, whom, as I see
you wish it, I will serve in every way I can. One of them is about Zeuxis of
Blaundus, whom you say was warmly recommended to you by me though a
most notorious matricide. In this matter, and on this subject generally,
please listen to a short statement, lest you should by chance be surprised at
my having become so conciliatory towards Greeks. Seeing, as I did, that the
complaints of Greeks, because they have a genius for deceit, were allowed
an excessive weight, whenever I was told of any of them making complaint
of you, I appeased them by every means in my power. First, I pacified the
Dionysopolitans, who were very bitter: whose chief man, Hermippus, I
secured not only by my conversation, but by treating him as a friend. I did
the same to Hephæstus of Apameia; the same to that most untrustworthy
fellow, Megaristus of Antandrus; the same to Nicias of Smyrna; I also
embraced with all the courtesy I possessed the most trumpery of men, even
Nymphôn of Colophôn. And all this I did from no liking for these particular
people, or the nation as a whole: I was heartily sick of their fickleness and
obsequiousness, of feelings that are not affected by our kindness, but by our
position.
But to return to Zeuxis. When he was telling me the same story as you
mention in your letter about what M. Cascellius had said to him in
conversation, I stopped him from farther talk, and admitted him to my
society. I cannot, however, understand your virulence when you say that,
having sewn up in the parricide's-sack two Mysians at Smyrna, you desired
to display a similar example of your severity in the upper part of your
province, and that, therefore, you had wished to inveigle Zeuxis into your
hands by every possible means. For if he had been brought into court, he
ought perhaps not to have been allowed to escape: but there was no
necessity for his being hunted out and inveigled by soft words to stand a
trial, as you say in your letter—especially as he is one whom I learn daily,
both from his fellow citizens and from many others, to be a man of higher
character than you would expect from such an obscure town as his.[286] But,

you will say, it is only Greeks to whom I am indulgent. What! did not I do
everything to appease L. Cæcilius? What a man! how irritable! how violent!
In fact, who is there except Tuscenius,[287] whose case admitted of no cure,
have I not softened? See again, I have now on my hands a shifty, mean
fellow, though of equestrian rank, called Catienus: even he is going to be
smoothed down. I don't blame you for having been somewhat harsh to his
father, for I am quite sure you have acted with good reason: but what need
was there of a letter of the sort which you sent to the man himself? "That
the man was rearing the cross for himself from which you had already
pulled him off once; that you would take care to have him smoked to death,
and would be applauded by the whole province for it." Again, to a man
named C. Fabius—for that letter also T. Catienus is handing round—"that
you were told that the kidnapper Licinius, with his young kite of a son, was
collecting taxes." And then you go on to ask Fabius to burn both father and
son alive if he can; if not, to send them to you, that they may be burnt to
death by legal sentence. That letter sent by you in jest to C. Fabius, if it
really is from you, exhibits to ordinary readers a violence of language very
injurious to you. Now, if you will refer to the exhortations in all my letters,
you will perceive that I have never found fault with you for anything except
harshness and sharpness of temper, and occasionally, though rarely, for
want of caution in the letters you write. In which particulars, indeed, if my
influence had had greater weight with you than a somewhat excessive
quickness of disposition, or a certain enjoyment in indulging temper, or a
faculty for epigram and a sense of humour, we should certainly have had no
cause for dissatisfaction. And don't you suppose that I feel no common
vexation when I am told how Vergilius is esteemed, and your neighbour C.
Octavius?[288] For if you only excel your neighbours farther up country, in
Cilicia and Syria, that is a pretty thing to boast of! And that is just the sting
of the matter, that though the men I have named are not more blameless
than yourself, they yet outdo you in the art of winning favour, though they
know nothing of Xenophon's Cyrus or Agesilaus; from which kings, in the
exercise of their great office, no one ever heard an irritable word. But in
giving you this advice, as I have from the first, I am well aware how much
good I have done.[289]
Now, however, as you are about to quit your province, pray do leave behind
you—as I think you are now doing—as pleasant a memory as possible. You

have a successor of very mild manners; in other respects, on his arrival, you
will be much missed. In sending letters of requisition, as I have often told
you, you have allowed yourself to be too easily persuaded. Destroy, if you
can, all such as are inequitable, or contrary to usage, or contradictory to
others. Statius told me that they were usually put before you ready written,
read by himself, and that, if they were inequitable, he informed you of the
fact: but that before he entered your service there had been no sifting of
letters; that the result was that there were volumes containing a selection of
letters, which were usually adversely criticised.[290] On this subject I am not
going to give you any advice at this time of day, for it is too late; and you
cannot but be aware that I have often warned you in various ways and with
precision. But I have, on a hint from Theopompus, intrusted him with this
message to you: do see by means of persons attached to you, which you will
find no difficulty in doing, that the following classes of letters are destroyed
—first, those that are inequitable; next, those that are contradictory; then
those expressed in an eccentric or unusual manner; and lastly, those that
contain reflexions on anyone. I don't believe all I hear about these matters,
and if, in the multiplicity of your engagements, you have let certain things
escape you, now is the time to look into them and weed them out. I have
read a letter said to have been written by your nomenclator Sulla himself,
which I cannot approve: I have read some written in an angry spirit. But the
subject of letters comes in pat: for while this sheet of paper was actually in
my hands, L. Flavius, prætor-designate and a very intimate friend, came to
see me. He told me that you had sent a letter to his agents, which seemed to
me most inequitable, prohibiting them from taking anything from the estate
of the late L. Octavius Naso, whose heir L. Flavius is, until they had paid a
sum of money to C. Fundanius; and that you had sent a similar letter to the
Apollonidenses, not to allow any payment on account of the estate of the
late Octavius till the debt to Fundanius had been discharged. It seems to me
hardly likely that you have done this; for it is quite unlike your usual good
sense. The heir not to take anything? What if he disowns the debt? What if
he doesn't owe it at all? Moreover, is the prætor wont to decide whether a
debt is due?[291] Don't I, again, wish well to Fundanius? Am I not his
friend? Am I not touched with compassion? No one more so: but in certain
matters the course of law is so clear as to leave no place for personal
feeling. And Flavius told me that expressions were used in the letter, which
he said was yours, to the effect that you would "either thank them as

friends, or make yourself disagreeable to them as enemies." In short, he was
much annoyed, complained of it to me in strong terms, and begged me to
write to you as seriously as I could. This I am doing, and I do strongly urge
you again and again to withdraw your injunction to Flavius's agents about
taking money from the estate, and not to lay any farther injunction on the
Apollonidenses contrary to the rights of Flavius. Pray do everything you
can for the sake of Flavius and, indeed, of Pompey also. I would not, upon
my honour, have you think me liberal to him at the expense of any
inequitable decision on your part: but I do entreat you to leave behind you
some authority, and some memorandum of a decree or of a letter under your
hand, so framed as to support the interests and cause of Flavius. For the
man, who is at once very attentive to me, and tenacious of his own rights
and dignity, is feeling extremely hurt that he has not prevailed with you
either on the grounds of personal friendship or of legal right; and, to the
best of my belief, both Pompey and Cæsar have, at one time or another,
commended the interests of Flavius to you, and Flavius has written to you
personally, and certainly I have. Wherefore, if there is anything which you
think you ought to do at my request, let it be this. If you love me, take every
care, take every trouble, and insure Flavius's cordial thanks both to yourself
and myself. I cannot use greater earnestness in making any request than I
use in this.
As to what you say about Hermias, it has been in truth a cause of much
vexation to me. I wrote you a letter in a rather unbrotherly spirit, which I
dashed off in a fit of anger and now wish to recall, having been irritated by
what Lucullus's freedman told me, immediately after hearing of the bargain.
For this letter, which was not expressed in a brotherly way, you ought to
have brotherly feeling enough to make allowance. As to Censorinus,
Antonius, the Cassii, Scævola—I am delighted to hear from you that you
possess their friendship. The other contents of that same letter of yours were
expressed more strongly than I could have wished, such as your "with my
ship at least well trimmed"[292] and your "die once for all."[293] You will
find those expressions to be unnecessarily strong. My scoldings have
always been very full of affection. They mention certain things for
complaint,[294] but these are not important, or rather, are quite insignificant.
For my part, I should never have thought you deserving of the least blame
in any respect, considering the extreme purity of your conduct, had it not

been that our enemies are numerous. Whatever I have written to you in a
tone of remonstrance or reproach I have written from a vigilant caution,
which I maintain, and shall maintain; and I shall not cease imploring you to
do the same. Attalus of Hypæpa has begged me to intercede with you that
you should not prevent his getting the money paid which has been decreed
for a statue of Q. Publicius. In which matter I both ask as a favour and urge
as a duty, that you should not consent to allow the honour of a man of his
character, and so close a friend of mine, to be lowered or hindered by your
means. Farthermore, Licinius, who is known to you, a slave of my friend
Æsopus, has run away. He has been at Athens, living in the house of Patron
the Epicurean as a free man. Thence he has made his way to Asia.
Afterwards a certain Plato of Sardis, who is often at Athens, and happened
to be at Athens at the time that Licinius arrived there, having subsequently
learnt by a letter from Æsopus that he was an escaped slave, arrested the
fellow, and put him into confinement at Ephesus; but whether into the
public prison, or into a slave mill, we could not clearly make out from his
letter. But since he is at Ephesus, I should be obliged if you would trace him
in any manner open to you, and with all care either [send him] or bring him
home with you. Don't take into consideration the fellow's value: such a
good-for-nothing is worth very little; but Æsopus is so much vexed at his
slave's bad conduct and audacity, that you can do him no greater favour
than by being the means of his recovering him.
Now for the news that you chiefly desire. We have so completely lost the
constitution that Cato,[295] a young man of no sense, but yet a Roman
citizen and a Cato, scarcely got off with his life because, having determined
to prosecute Gabinius for bribery, when the prætors could not be
approached for several days, and refused to admit anyone to their presence,
he mounted the rostra in public meeting and called Pompey an "unofficial
dictator." No one ever had a narrower escape of being killed. From this you
may see the state of the whole Republic. People, however, shew no
inclination to desert my cause. They make wonderful professions, offers of
service, and promises: and, indeed, I have the highest hopes and even
greater spirit—so that I hope to get the better in the struggle, and feel
confident in my mind that, in the present state of the Republic, I need not
fear even an accident. However, the matter stands thus: if Clodius gives
notice of an action against me, the whole of Italy will rush to my support, so

that I shall come off with many times greater glory than before; but if he
attempts the use of violence, I hope, by the zeal not only of friends but also
of opponents, to be able to meet force with force. All promise me the aid of
themselves, their friends, clients, freedmen, slaves, and, finally, of their
money. Our old regiment of loyalists is warm in its zeal and attachment to
me. If there were any who had formerly been comparatively hostile or
lukewarm, they are now uniting themselves with the loyalists from hatred to
these despots. Pompey makes every sort of promise, and so does Cæsar: but
my confidence in them is not enough to induce me to drop any of my
preparations. The tribunes-designate are friendly to us. The consuls-
designate make excellent professions. Some of the new prætors are very
friendly and very brave citizens—Domitius, Nigidius, Memmius,
Lentulus[296]—the others are loyalists also, but these are eminently so.
Wherefore keep a good heart and high hopes. However, I will keep you
constantly informed on particular events as they occur from day to day.

LIII (f xiii, 42)
TO L. CULLEOLUS (IN ILLYRICUM)

Rome[297]

My friend L. Lucceius,[298] the most delightful fellow in the b.c. 59,
world, has expressed in my presence amazingly warm thanks to æt. 47
you, saying that you have given most complete and liberal
promises to his agents. Since your words have roused such gratitude in him,
you may imagine how grateful he will be for the thing itself, when, as I
hope, you will have performed your promise. In any case the people of
Bullis have shewn that they intend to do Lucceius right according to the
award of Pompey. But we have very great need of the additional support of
your wishes, influence, and prætorian authority. That you should give us
these I beg you again and again. And this will be particularly gratifying to
me, because Lucceius's agents know, and Lucceius himself gathered from
your letter to him, that no one's influence has greater weight with you than
mine. I ask you once more, and reiterate my request, that he may find that
to be the case by practical experience.

LIV (f xiii, 41)
TO L. CULLEOLUS (IN ILLYRICUM)

Rome

In what you have done for the sake of L. Lucceius, I wish you to b.c. 59,
be fully aware that you have obliged a man who will be æt. 47
exceedingly grateful; and that, while this is very much the case
with Lucceius himself, so also Pompey as often as he sees me—and he sees
me very often—thanks you in no common terms. I add also, what I know
will be exceedingly gratifying to you, that I am myself immensely delighted
with your kindness to Lucceius. For the rest, though I have no doubt that as
you acted before for my sake, so now, for the sake of your own consistency,
you will abide by your liberal intentions, yet I reiterate my request to you
with all earnestness, that what you first gave us reason to hope, and then
actually carried out, you would be so good as to see extended and brought
to a final completion by your means. I assure you, and I pledge my credit to
it, that such a course will be exceedingly gratifying to both Lucceius and
Pompey, and that you will be making a most excellent investment with
them. About politics, and about the business going on here, and what we are
all thinking about, I wrote to you in full detail a few days ago, and delivered
the letter to your servants. Farewell.

LETTERS IN EXILE
We have no record in Cicero's correspondence of the final b.c. 58.
measures taken by Clodius against him. We find him when the Coss., L.
correspondence for this year opens on his way to exile: all his Piso, A.
Gabinius.
boasts of staying and fighting have been thrown to the winds.
Clodius, indeed, had not simply done what Cicero expected at
the worst—impeached him. He had gone more systematically to
work. Among other measures calculated to win popularity, he
proposed a modification of the lex Ælia Fufia, declaring it
illegal for a magistrate to stop legislative comitia by "watching
the sky." Thus freed from one hindrance, he next proposed and
carried a law for the prosecution of any magistrate who had put
a citizen to death without trial (qui indemnatos cives necavisset).
Cicero at once recognized his danger: if the people voted this
law, a jury could scarcely fail to condemn. The triumvirs would
do nothing. Pompey, after all his promises, avoided seeing
Cicero as much as possible: Cæsar offered him a legatio again;
and though he spoke against giving the law a retrospective
effect, he could not consistently object to the law itself, and
shewed no sign of desiring to shelter Cicero, except on his
consenting to leave Rome. Cicero then adopted the course which
was open to all citizens threatened with a prosecution—that of
going away from Rome—and started apparently with the view
of going to Malta. Whether it was wise or not, Cicero afterwards
lamented having taken this course, and thought that he had
better have braved the danger and stood his trial. It at any rate
facilitated the next move of Clodius, who proposed and carried a
bill forbidding Cicero "fire and water" within 500 (afterwards
reduced to 400) miles of Italy, and confiscating his property.
Accordingly, Cicero had to go much farther than he had
intended. He crossed from Brundisium to Dyrrachium, and
proceeded along the via Egnatia to its terminus at Thessalonica,
where he spent the autumn, b.c. 58. In November, b.c. 58, he

returned to Dyrrachium, ready for the recall which he heard was
imminent. Meanwhile his town house was destroyed, its site
made a templum, and a statue of Liberty set up in it, and his
villas at Tusculum and Antium dismantled. The dangers of his
position are not exaggerated in his letters, and may account for
much of their melancholy tone. He had lost the protection of the
laws, and any one of his many enemies meeting him might have
killed him with practical impunity. He seems to have left Rome
in April.

LV (a iii, 3)
TO ATTICUS (AT ROME)

Vibo, April

I hope I may see the day when I shall thank you for having b.c. 58,
compelled me to remain alive! At present I thoroughly repent it. æt. 48
But I beg you to come and see me at Vibo at once, to which town I
have for several reasons directed my journey.[299] But if you will only come
there, I shall be able to consult you about my entire journey and exile. If
you don't do so, I shall be surprised, but I feel sure you will.

LVI (a iii, 2)
TO ATTICUS (AT ROME)

Nares Lucanæ,[300] April

The reason for having come this journey is that there was no place b.c. 58,
where I could be independent except on Sica's estate,[301] æt. 48
especially till the bill is emended,[302] and at the same time
because I find that from this spot I can reach Brundisium, if you were only
with me, but without you I cannot stay in those parts owing to Autronius.
[303]
At present, as I said in my previous letter, if you will come to me, we
shall be able to form a plan for the whole business. I know the journey is
troublesome, but the whole calamity is full of troubles. I cannot write more,
I am so heart-broken and dejected. Take care of your health.
From Nares Lucanæ, 8 April.

LVII (a iii, 4)
TO ATTICUS (AT ROME)

Near Vibo, April

I hope you will attribute my sudden departure from Vibo, whither b.c. 58,
I had asked you come, to my unhappiness rather than to æt. 48
fickleness. A copy of the bill for my ruin was brought to me, in
which the correction of which I had been told was to the effect that I might
legally remain anywhere beyond 400 miles. Since I was not allowed to go
yonder,[304] I set out towards Brundisium before the day for carrying the bill
had come, both to prevent Sica, in whose house I was staying, from being
ruined,[305] and because I was prevented from residing at Malta. So now
make haste to catch me up, if only I shall find any welcome there.[306] At
present I receive kind invitations. But about the rest of my journey I am
nervous. Truly, my dear Pomponius, I am very sorry I consented to live: in
which matter you exercised the chief influence with me. But of these things
when we meet. Only be sure and come.

LVIII (a iii, 1)
TO ATTICUS (AT ROME)

From the neighbourhood of Thurium, on the way to Brundisium, April

I always thought that it was of great importance to me that you b.c. 58,
should be with me: but when I read the bill, then, indeed, I æt. 48
understood that there could be nothing more desirable for me than
that you should overtake me as soon as possible, in order that, if after
quitting Italy I should have to travel through Epirus, I might avail myself of
your protection and that of your friends; or, if I had to adopt any other plan,
I might come to some definite resolution in accordance with your opinion.
Wherefore I beg you to do your best to overtake me promptly, which will be
easier for you to do since the law about the province of Macedonia has now
been passed.[307] I would urge you at greater length were it not that with
you facts speak for me.

LIX (a iii, 5)
TO ATTICUS (AT ROME)

Thurium, 10 April

Terentia thanks you frequently and very warmly. That is a great b.c. 58,
comfort to me. I am the most miserable man alive, and am being æt. 48
worn out with the most poignant sorrow. I don't know what to
write to you. For if you are at Rome, it is now too late for you to reach me;
but if you are on the road, we shall discuss together all that needs to be
discussed when you have overtaken me. All I ask you is to retain the same
affection for me, since it was always myself you loved. For I am the same
man: my enemies have taken what was mine, they have not taken myself.
Take care of your health.
From Thurium, 10 April.

LX (a iii, 6)
TO ATTICUS (AT ROME)

On the way to Tarentum, 18 April

I had felt certain of seeing you at Tarentum or Brundisium, and b.c. 58,
that was of importance to me in many respects: among others, as æt. 48
to my being able to stay in Epirus and consult you about the
future. My disappointment in this is only another item in the long list of my
misfortunes.[308] I mean to go to Asia, to Cyzicus for choice. I commend my
family to you. I am very wretched and can scarcely support my life.
From near Tarentum, 17 April.

LXI (f xiv, 4)
TO TERENTIA, TULLIOLA, AND YOUNG CICERO (AT
ROME)

Brundisium, 29 April

Yes, I do write to you less often than I might, because, though I b.c. 58,
am always wretched, yet when I write to you or read a letter from æt. 48
you, I am in such floods of tears that I cannot endure it. Oh, that I
had clung less to life! I should at least never have known real sorrow, or not
much of it, in my life. Yet if fortune has reserved for me any hope of
recovering at any time any position again, I was not utterly wrong to do so:
if these miseries are to be permanent, I only wish, my dear, to see you as
soon as possible and to die in your arms, since neither gods, whom you
have worshipped with such pure devotion, nor men, whom I have ever
served, have made us any return. I have been thirteen days at Brundisium in
the house of M. Lænius Flaccus, a very excellent man, who has despised
the risk to his fortunes and civil existence in comparison to keeping me
safe, nor has been induced by the penalty of a most iniquitous law to refuse
me the rights and good offices of hospitality and friendship. May I some
time have the opportunity of repaying him! Feel gratitude I always shall. I
set out from Brundisium on the 29th of April,[309] and intend going through
Macedonia to Cyzicus. What a fall! What a disaster! What can I say?
Should I ask you to come—a woman of weak health and broken spirit?
Should I refrain from asking you? Am I to be without you, then? I think the
best course is this: if there is any hope of my restoration, stay to promote it
and push the thing on: but if, as I fear, it proves hopeless, pray come to me
by any means in your power. Be sure of this, that if I have you I shall not
think myself wholly lost. But what is to become of my darling Tullia? You
must see to that now: I can think of nothing. But certainly, however things
turn out, we must do everything to promote that poor little girl's married
happiness and reputation. Again, what is my boy Cicero to do? Let him, at

any rate, be ever in my bosom and in my arms.[310] I can't write more. A fit
of weeping hinders me. I don't know how you have got on; whether you are
left in possession of anything, or have been, as I fear, entirely plundered.
Piso, as you say, I hope will always be our friend. As to the manumission of
the slaves you need not be uneasy. To begin with, the promise made to
yours was that you would treat them according as each severally deserved.
So far Orpheus has behaved well, besides him no one very markedly so.
With the rest of the slaves the arrangement is that, if my property is
forfeited, they should become my freedmen, supposing them to be able to
maintain at law that status.[311] But if my property remained in my
ownership, they were to continue slaves, with the exception of a very few.
But these are trifles. To return to your advice, that I should keep up my
courage and not give up hope of recovering my position, I only wish that
there were any good grounds for entertaining such a hope. As it is, when,
alas! shall I get a letter from you? Who will bring it me? I would have
waited for it at Brundisium, but the sailors would not allow it, being
unwilling to lose a favourable wind. For the rest, put as dignified a face on
the matter as you can, my dear Terentia. Our life is over: we have had our
day: it is not any fault of ours that has ruined us, but our virtue. I have made
no false step, except in not losing my life when I lost my honours. But since
our children preferred my living, let us bear everything else, however
intolerable. And yet I, who encourage you, cannot encourage myself. I have
sent that faithful fellow Clodius Philhetærus home, because he was
hampered with weakness of the eyes. Sallustius seems likely to outdo
everybody in his attentions. Pescennius is exceedingly kind to me; and I
have hopes that he will always be attentive to you. Sica had said that he
would accompany me; but he has left Brundisium. Take the greatest
possible care of your health, and believe me that I am more affected by your
distress than my own. My dear Terentia, most faithful and best of wives,
and my darling little daughter, and that last hope of my race, Cicero, good-
bye!
29 April, from Brundisium.

LXII (a iii, 7)
TO ATTICUS (AT ROME)

Brundisium, 29 April

I arrived at Brundisium on the 17th of April. On that day your b.c. 58,
slaves delivered me your letter, and some other slaves, on the next æt. 48
day but one, brought me another. As to your invitation and advice
to stay at your house in Epirus, your kindness is most gratifying, and far
from being a novelty. It is a plan that would have exactly suited my wishes,
if I might have spent all my time there: for I loathe a crowd of visitors, I can
scarcely bear the light, and that solitude, especially in a spot so familiar,
would have been the reverse of disagreeable. But to put up there as a mere
stage in my journey! In the first place it is far out of my way, and in the next
it is only four days from Autronius and the rest, and in the third place you
are not there. Had I been going to reside permanently, a fortified castle
would have been an advantage, but to one only passing through it is
unnecessary. Why, if I had not been afraid, I should have made for
Athens[312]—there were circumstances that made me much wish to go—but
as it is, I have enemies in the neighbourhood, you are not there, and I fear
they[313] might hold even that town not to be the legal distance from Italy,
nor do you mention by what day I am to expect you. As to your urging me
to remain alive, you carry one point—that I should not lay violent hands
upon myself: the other you cannot bring to pass—that I should not regret
my policy and my continuance in life. For what is there to attach me to it,
especially if the hope which accompanied me on my departure is non-
existent? I will not attempt to enumerate all the miseries into which I have
fallen through the extreme injustice and unprincipled conduct, not so much
of my enemies, as of those who were jealous of me, because I do not wish
to stir up a fresh burst of grief in myself, or invite you to share the same
sorrow. I say this deliberately—that no one was ever afflicted with so heavy
a calamity, that no one had ever greater cause to wish for death; while I
have let slip the time when I might have sought it most creditably.

Henceforth death can never heal, it can only end my sorrow.[314] In politics
I perceive that you collect all circumstances that you think may inspire me
with a hope of a change: and though they are insignificant, yet, since you
will have it so, let us have patience. In spite of what you say, you will catch
us up if you make haste. For I will either come into Epirus to be near you,
or I will travel slowly through Candavia.[315] My hesitation about Epirus is
not caused by vacillation on my part, but by the fact that I do not know
where I am likely to see my brother. As to him, I neither know how I am to
see him, nor how I shall let him go. That is the greatest and most distressing
of all my distresses. I would indeed have written to you oftener, and at
greater length, had it not been that sorrow, while it has affected all parts of
my intellect, has above all entirely destroyed my faculty for this kind of
writing. I long to see you. Take care of your health.
Brundisium, 29 April.

LXIII (a iii, 8)
TO ATTICUS (AT ROME)

Thessalonica, 29 May

I wrote to you at Brundisium, when on the point of starting, the b.c. 58,
reasons for my not going to Epirus: namely, the proximity of æt. 48
Achaia, which was full of enemies of the most unscrupulous
character, and secondly, the difficulty of leaving it when I wished to resume
my journey. Added to this, while I was at Dyrrachium two messages
reached me: the first, that my brother was coming from Ephesus to Athens
by ship; the second, that he was coming through Macedonia by land.
Accordingly, I sent a message to meet him at Athens, telling him to come
thence to Thessalonica. I myself continued my journey, and arrived at
Thessalonica on the 23rd of May, but have no certain intelligence about his
journey except that he had left Ephesus some time ago. At present I am
feeling very nervous as to what steps are being taken at Rome. Although
you say in one of your letters, dated the 15th of May, that you hear that he
will be vigorously prosecuted, in another you say that things are calming
down. But then the latter is dated a day before the former; which makes me
all the more anxious. So while my own personal sorrow is every day tearing
my heart and wearing out my strength, this additional anxiety indeed
scarcely leaves me any life at all. However, the voyage itself was very
difficult, and he perhaps, being uncertain where I was, has taken some other
course. For my freedman Phaetho saw nothing of him. Phaetho was driven
by the wind from Ilium[316] to Macedonia, and met me at Pella. How
formidable other circumstances are I am fully aware, and I don't know what
to say to you. I fear everything, nor is there any misery which would not
seem possible in my present unfortunate position. Miserable as I still am in
the midst of my heavy trials and sorrows, now that this anxiety is added to
them, I remain at Thessalonica in a state of suspense without venturing
upon any step whatever.

Now to answer you. I have not seen Cæcilius Trypho. I comprehend from
your letter what you and Pompey have been saying. That any movement in
politics is impending I cannot see as clearly as you either see, or perhaps
only suggest for my consolation. For, as the case of Tigranes was passed
over, all hope of a rupture is at an end.[317] You bid me thank Varro: I will
do so; also Hypsæus.[318] As to your advice not to go farther off till the
acta[319] of the month of May reach me, I think I shall do as you suggest.
But where to stay? I have not yet come to any decision. And indeed my
mind is so uneasy about Quintus, that I can determine on nothing. However,
I will let you know immediately. From the incoherent nature of my letters I
think you will understand the agitation of my mind, caused not so much by
my misery, though I have been overwhelmed by an incredible and
unparalleled calamity, as by the recollection of my blunder. For by whose
unprincipled advice I was egged on and betrayed you certainly now
perceive,[320] and oh that you had perceived it before, and had not given
your whole mind to lamentation along with me! Wherefore, when you are
told that I am prostrate and unmanned with grief, consider that I am more
distressed at my own folly than at the result of it, in having believed a man
whom I did not think to be treacherous. My writing is impeded both by the
recollection of my own disasters, and by my alarm about my brother. Yes,
pray look after and direct all the affairs you mention. Terentia expresses the
warmest gratitude to you. I have sent you a copy of the letter which I have
written to Pompey.
Thessalonica, 29 May.

LXIV (a iii, 9)
TO ATTICUS (AT ROME)

Thessalonica, 13 June

My brother Quintus having quitted Asia before the 1st of May, and b.c. 58,
arrived at Athens on the 15th, he would have to make great haste æt. 48
to prevent proceedings being commenced against him in his
absence, supposing there to be some one who was not content with the
misfortunes we have already sustained. Accordingly, I preferred that he
should hurry on to Rome rather than come to me; and at the same time—for
I will tell you the truth, and it will give you a notion of the extent of my
wretchedness—I could not make up my mind to see him, devotedly
attached to me as he is, and a man of most tender feelings, or to obtrude
upon him my miseries and ruin in all their wretchedness, or to endure their
being seen by him. And I was besides afraid of what certainly would have
happened—that he would not have had the resolution to leave me. I had
ever before my eyes the time when he would either have to dismiss his
lictors,[321] or be violently torn from my arms. The prospect of this bitter
pain I have avoided by the other bitter pain of not seeing my brother. It is all
you, who advised me to continue living, that have forced me into this
distressful position. Accordingly, I am paying the penalty of my error.
However, I am sustained by your letter, from which I easily perceive how
high your own hopes are. This did give me some consolation, but only, after
all, till you passed from the mention of Pompey to the passage beginning
"Now try and win over Hortensius and men of that sort." In heaven's name,
my dear Pomponius, don't you yet perceive by whose means, by whose
treachery, by whose dishonest advice, I have been ruined? But all this I will
discuss with you when we meet. I will only say this much, which I think
you know: it is not my enemies, but my jealous rivals, that have ruined me.
Now, however, if things are really as you hope, I will keep up my spirits,
and will rely upon the hope on which you bid me rely. But if, as I myself
think, this proves illusory, what I was not allowed to do at the best time

shall be done at a worse.[322] Terentia often expresses her gratitude to you.
For myself one of my miseries also consists in fear—the business of my
unhappy brother. If I could only know how it stands, I should know what I
ought to do. Personally, the hope of the advantages and of the letters you
mention keeps me still, as you advise, at Thessalonica. If I get any news, I
shall know what I ought to do about the rest. Yes, if, as you say in your
letter, you left Rome on the 1st of June, you will soon see us. I have sent
you a letter which I wrote to Pompey.
Thessalonica, 15 June.

LXV (q fr i, 3)
TO HIS BROTHER QUINTUS (ON HIS WAY TO ROME)

Thessalonica, 15 June

Brother! Brother! Brother! did you really fear that I had been b.c. 58,
induced by some angry feeling to send slaves to you without a æt. 48
letter? Or even that I did not wish to see you? I to be angry with
you! Is it possible for me to be angry with you? Why, one would think that
it was you that brought me low! Your enemies, your unpopularity, that
miserably ruined me, and not I that unhappily ruined you! The fact is, the
much-praised consulate of mine has deprived me of you, of children,
country, fortune; from you I should hope it will have taken nothing but
myself. Certainly on your side I have experienced nothing but what was
honourable and gratifying: on mine you have grief for my fall and fear for
your own, regret, mourning, desertion. I not wish to see you? The truth is
rather that I was unwilling to be seen by you. For you would not have seen
your brother—not the brother you had left, not the brother you knew, not
him to whom you had with mutual tears bidden farewell as he followed you
on your departure for your province: not a trace even or faint image of him,
but rather what I may call the likeness of a living corpse. And oh that you
had sooner seen me or heard of me as a corpse! Oh that I could have left
you to survive, not my life merely, but my undiminished rank! But I call all
the gods to witness that the one argument which recalled me from death
was, that all declared that to some extent your life depended upon mine. In
which matter I made an error and acted culpably. For if I had died, that
death itself would have given clear evidence of my fidelity and love to you.
As it is, I have allowed you to be deprived of my aid, though I am alive, and
with me still living to need the help of others; and my voice, of all others, to
fail when dangers threatened my family, which had so often been
successfully used in the defence of the merest strangers. For as to the slaves
coming to you without a letter, the real reason (for you see that it was not
anger) was a deadness of my faculties, and a seemingly endless deluge of

tears and sorrows. How many tears do you suppose these very words have
cost me? As many as I know they will cost you to read them! Can I ever
refrain from thinking of you or ever think of you without tears? For when I
miss you, is it only a brother that I miss? Rather it is a brother of almost my
own age in the charm of his companionship, a son in his consideration for
my wishes, a father in the wisdom of his advice! What pleasure did I ever
have without you, or you without me? And what must my case be when at
the same time I miss a daughter: How affectionate! how modest! how
clever! The express image of my face, of my speech, of my very soul! Or
again a son, the prettiest boy, the very joy of my heart? Cruel inhuman
monster that I am, I dismissed him from my arms better schooled in the
world than I could have wished: for the poor child began to understand
what was going on. So, too, your own son, your own image, whom my little
Cicero loved as a brother, and was now beginning to respect as an elder
brother! Need I mention also how I refused to allow my unhappy wife—the
truest of helpmates—to accompany me, that there might be some one to
protect the wrecks of the calamity which had fallen on us both, and guard
our common children? Nevertheless, to the best of my ability, I did write a
letter to you, and gave it to your freedman Philogonus, which, I believe,
was delivered to you later on; and in this I repeated the advice and entreaty,
which had been already transmitted to you as a message from me by my
slaves, that you should go on with your journey and hasten to Rome. For, in
the first place, I desired your protection, in case there were any of my
enemies whose cruelty was not yet satisfied by my fall. In the next place, I
dreaded the renewed lamentation which our meeting would cause: while I
could not have borne your departure, and was afraid of the very thing you
mention in your letter—that you would be unable to tear yourself away. For
these reasons the supreme pain of not seeing you—and nothing more
painful or more wretched could, I think, have happened to the most
affectionate and united of brothers—was a less misery than would have
been such a meeting followed by such a parting. Now, if you can, though I,
whom you always regarded as a brave man, cannot do so, rouse yourself
and collect your energies in view of any contest you may have to confront. I
hope, if my hope has anything to go upon, that your own spotless character
and the love of your fellow citizens, and even remorse for my treatment,
may prove a certain protection to you. But if it turns out that you are free
from personal danger, you will doubtless do whatever you think can be

done for me. In that matter, indeed, many write to me at great length and
declare that they have hopes; but I personally cannot see what hope there is,
since my enemies have the greatest influence, while my friends have in
some cases deserted, in others even betrayed me, fearing perhaps in my
restoration a censure on their own treacherous conduct. But how matters
stand with you I would have you ascertain and report to me. In any case I
shall continue to live as long as you shall need me, in view of any danger
you may have to undergo: longer than that I cannot go on in this kind of
life. For there is neither wisdom nor philosophy with sufficient strength to
sustain such a weight of grief. I know that there has been a time for dying,
more honourable and more advantageous; and this is not the only one of my
many omissions, which, if I should choose to bewail, I should merely be
increasing your sorrow and emphasizing my own stupidity. But one thing I
am not bound to do, and it is in fact impossible—remain in a life so
wretched and so dishonoured any longer than your necessities, or some
well-grounded hope, shall demand. For I, who was lately supremely blessed
in brother, children, wife, wealth, and in the very nature of that wealth,
while in position, influence, reputation, and popularity, I was inferior to
none, however distinguished—I cannot, I repeat, go on longer lamenting
over myself and those dear to me in a life of such humiliation as this, and in
a state of such utter ruin. Wherefore, what do you mean by writing to me
about negotiating a bill of exchange? As though I were not now wholly
dependent on your means! And that is just the very thing in which I see and
feel, to my misery, of what a culpable act I have been guilty in squandering
to no purpose the money which I received from the treasury in your name,
[323]
while you have to satisfy your creditors out of the very vitals of
yourself and your son. However, the sum mentioned in your letter has been
paid to M. Antonius, and the same amount to Cæpio. For me the sum at
present in my hands is sufficient for what I contemplate doing. For in either
case—whether I am restored or given up in despair—I shall not want any
more money. For yourself, if you are molested, I think you should apply to
Crassus and Calidius. I don't know how far Hortensius is to be trusted.
Myself, with the most elaborate pretence of affection and the closest daily
intimacy, he treated with the most utter want of principle and the most
consummate treachery, and Q. Arrius helped him in it: acting under whose
advice, promises, and injunctions, I was left helpless to fall into this
disaster. But this you will keep dark for fear they might injure you. Take

care also—and it is on this account that I think you should cultivate
Hortensius himself by means of Pomponius—that the epigram on the lex
Aurelia[324] attributed to you when candidate for the ædileship is not proved
by false testimony to be yours. For there is nothing that I am so afraid of as
that, when people understand how much pity for me your prayers and your
acquittal will rouse, they may attack you with all the greater violence.
Messalla I reckon as really attached to you: Pompey I regard as still
pretending only. But may you never have to put these things to the test! And
that prayer I would have offered to the gods had they not ceased to listen to
prayers of mine. However, I do pray that they may be content with these
endless miseries of ours; among which, after all, there is no discredit for
any wrong thing done—sorrow is the beginning and end, sorrow that
punishment is most severe when our conduct has been most
unexceptionable. As to my daughter and yours and my young Cicero, why
should I recommend them to you, my dear brother? Rather I grieve that
their orphan state will cause you no less sorrow than it does me. Yet as long
as you are uncondemned they will not be fatherless. The rest, by my hopes
of restoration and the privilege of dying in my fatherland, my tears will not
allow me to write! Terentia also I would ask you to protect, and to write me
word on every subject. Be as brave as the nature of the case admits.
Thessalonica, 13 June.

LXVI (a iii, 10)
TO ATTICUS (AT ROME)

Thessalonica, 17 June

The public transactions up to the 25th of May I have learnt from b.c. 58,
your letter. I am waiting for the rest, as you advised, at æt. 48
Thessalonica; and when they arrive I shall be better able to decide
where to be. For if there is any reason, if any action is being taken, if I shall
see any hopes, I shall either wait in the same place or go to your house; but
if, as you say, these hopes have vanished into air, I shall look out for
something else. At present you do not give me any indication except the
disagreement of those friends of yours, which, however, arises between
them on every kind of subject rather than myself. Therefore I don't see what
good it is to me. However, as long as you all will have me hope, I shall
obey you. For as to your scoldings so frequent and so severe, and your
saying that I am faint-hearted, I would ask you what misery is there so
heavy as not to be included in my disfranchisement? Did anyone ever fall
from such a high position, in so good a cause, with such endowments of
genius, wisdom and popularity, with such powerful supports from all
loyalists? Can I forget what I was, and not feel what I am? Of what honour,
of what glory, of what children, of what means, of what a brother I am
deprived? This last, indeed, to draw your attention to a new kind of disaster
—though I valued him, and always had done so, more than myself—I have
avoided seeing, lest I should behold his grief and mourning, or lest I—
whom he had left in the highest prosperity—should obtrude myself upon
him in a state of ruin and humiliation. I pass over the other particulars that
are past bearing: for I am prevented by my tears. And here, let me ask, am I
to be blamed for my grief, or for the unfortunate mistake of not retaining
these advantages (and I could easily have done so, had not a plot for my
destruction been hatched within my own walls), or at least of not losing
them without losing my life at the same time? My purpose in writing these
words is that you should rather console me, as you do, than think me

deserving of correction or chiding; and the reason of the comparative
brevity of my letters is, in the first place, that I am hindered by outbursts of
sorrow, and, in the second place, that I have news to expect from Rome
rather than any to communicate myself. But when that news arrives I will
let you know my plans. Pray, as you have done hitherto, write to me on as
many subjects as possible, that I may not be ignorant of any possible thing
there is to know.
Thessalonica, 17 June.

LXVII (a iii, 11)
TO ATTICUS (AT ROME)

Thessalonica, 27 June

I have been kept at Thessalonica up to this time as well by your b.c. 58,
letter and some good news (which, however, did not rest on the æt. 48
best authority), and the expectation of hearing from you all at
Rome, as by the fact that you advised my doing so. When I receive the
letters which I expect, if there turns out to be the hope which rumour brings
me, I shall go to your house;[325] if otherwise, I will inform you of what I
have done. Pray go on, as you are doing, and help me by your exertions,
advice, and influence. Cease now consoling me, but yet don't chide me; for
when you do that, I fail to recognize your affection and regret! Yet I believe
you to be so distressed yourself at my wretchedness, that it is not within
anyone's power to console you. Give your support to Quintus, my best and
kindest of brothers. Pray write to me fully on everything.
27 June.

LXVIII (a iii, 12)
TO ATTICUS (AT ROME)

Thessalonica, 17 July

Well, you argue earnestly as to what hope is to be entertained, and b.c. 58,
especially through the action of the senate, and yet you mention æt. 48
that the clause of the bill is being posted up, in virtue of which the
subject is forbidden to be mentioned in the senate. Accordingly, not a word
is said about it. In these circumstances you find fault with me for distressing
myself, when the fact is I am already more distressed than anybody ever
was, as you know very well. You hold out hope as a consequence of the
elections. What hope can there be with the same man tribune, and a consul-
designate who is my enemy?[326] But you have dealt me a blow in what you
say about my speech having got abroad.[327] Pray do your best to heal that
wound, as you express it. I did indeed write one some time ago, in a fit of
anger at what he had first composed against me; but I had taken such pains
to suppress it, that I thought it would never get into circulation. How it has
leaked out I cannot think. But since the occasion never arose for my having
a word of dispute with him, and since it appears to me to be more carelessly
written than my other speeches, I think it might be maintained not to be by
me. Pray look after this if you think I can do anything to remedy the
mischief; but if my ruin is inevitable, I don't so much care about it. I am still
lying idle in the same place, without conversation, without being able to
think. Though, as you say, I have "intimated" to you my desire that you
should come to me, yet it is now clear to me[328] that you are doing me
useful service where you are, but could not give me even a word of relief
here. I cannot write any more, nor have I anything to say: I am rather
waiting to hear from you all.
Thessalonica, 17 July.

LXIX (a iii, 14)
TO ATTICUS (AT ROME)

Thessalonica, 21 July

From your letter I am full of anxiety to hear what Pompey's view b.c. 58,
is of my case, or what he professes to be his view. The elections, I æt. 48
presume, are over; and when they were over you say that he was
of opinion that my case should be mooted. If I seem foolish to you for
entertaining hopes, it is at your bidding that I do so: yet I know that you
have in your letters been usually inclined rather to check me and my hopes.
Now pray write distinctly what your view is. I know that I have fallen into
this distress from numerous errors of my own. If certain accidents have in
any degree corrected those errors, I shall be less sorry that I preserved my
life then and am still living. Owing to the constant traffic along the road[329]
and the daily expectation of political change, I have as yet not removed
from Thessalonica. But now I am being forced away, not by Plancius—for
he, indeed, wishes to keep me here—but by the nature of the place, which is
not at all calculated for the residence of a disfranchised man in such a state
of sorrow. I have not gone to Epirus, as I had said I would, because all of a
sudden the messages and letters that arrived have all indicated it to be
unnecessary for me to be in the immediate neighbourhood of Italy. From
this place, as soon as I have heard something about the elections, I shall set
my face towards Asia, but to what particular part I am not yet certain:
however, you shall know.
Thessalonica, 21 July.

LXX (a iii, 13)
TO ATTICUS (AT ROME)

Thessalonica, 5 August

As to my having written you word that I meant to go to Epirus, I b.c. 58,
changed my plan when I saw that my hope was vanishing and æt. 48
fading away, and did not remove from Thessalonica. I resolved to
remain there until I heard from you on the subject mentioned in your last
letter, namely, that there was going to be some motion made in the senate
on my case immediately after the elections, and that Pompey had told you
so. Wherefore, as the elections are over and I have no letter from you, I
shall consider it as though you had written to say that nothing has come of
it, and I shall not feel annoyed at having been buoyed up by a hope which
did not keep me long in suspense. But the movement, which you said in
your letter that you foresaw as likely to be to my advantage, people arriving
here tell me will not occur.[330] My sole remaining hope is in the tribunes-
designate: and if I wait to see how that turns out, you will have no reason to
think of me as having been wanting to my own cause or the wishes of my
friends. As to your constantly finding fault with me for being so
overwhelmed by my misfortune, you ought to pardon me when you see that
I have sustained a more crushing blow than anyone you have ever seen or
heard of. As to your saying that you are told that my intellect in even
affected by grief, that is not so; my intellect is quite sound. Oh that it had
been as much so in the hour of danger! when I found those, to whom I
thought my safety was the dearest object of their life, most bitterly and
unfeelingly hostile: who, when they saw that I had somewhat lost my
balance from fear, left nothing undone which malice and treachery could
suggest in giving me the final push, to my utter ruin. Now, as I must go to
Cyzicus, where I shall get letters more rarely, I beg you to write me word all
the more carefully of everything you may think I ought to know. Be sure
you are affectionate to my brother Quintus: if in all my misery I still leave
him with rights undiminished, I shall not consider myself utterly ruined.

5 August.

LXXI (q fr i, 4)
TO HIS BROTHER QUINTUS (AT ROME)

Thessalonica, August

I beg you, my dear brother, if you and all my family have been b.c. 58,
ruined by my single misfortune, not to attribute it to dishonesty æt. 48
and bad conduct on my part, rather than to short-sightedness and
the wretched state I was in. I have committed no fault except in trusting
those whom I believed to be bound by the most sacred obligation not to
deceive me, or whom I thought to be even interested in not doing so. All my
most intimate, nearest and dearest friends were either alarmed for
themselves or jealous of me: the result was that all I lacked was good faith
on the part of my friends and caution on my own.[331] But if your own
blameless character and the compassion of the world prove sufficient to
preserve you at this juncture from molestation, you can, of course, observe
whether any hope of restoration is left for me. For Pomponius, Sestius, and
my son-in-law Piso have caused me as yet to stay at Thessalonica,
forbidding me, on account of certain impending movements, to increase my
distance. But in truth I am awaiting the result more on account of their
letters than from any firm hope of my own. For what can I hope with an
enemy possessed of the most formidable power, with my detractors masters
of the state, with friends unfaithful, with numbers of people jealous?
However, of the new tribunes there is one, it is true, most warmly attached
to me—Sestius—and I hope Curius, Milo, Fadius, Fabricius; but still there
is Clodius in violent opposition, who even when out of office will be able to
stir up the passions of the mob by the help of that same gang, and then there
will be found some one also to veto the bill.
Such a state of things was not put before me when I was leaving Rome, but
I often used to be told that I was certain to return in three days with the
greatest éclat. "What made you go, then?" you will say. What, indeed!
Many circumstances concurred to throw me off my balance—the defection

of Pompey, the hostility of the consuls, and of the prætors also, the timidity
of the publicani, the armed bands. The tears of my friends prevented me
seeking refuge in death, which would certainly have been the best thing for
my honour, the best escape from unbearable sorrows. But I have written to
you on this subject in the letter I gave to Phaetho. Now that you have been
plunged into griefs and troubles, such as no one ever was before, if the
compassion of the world can lighten our common misfortune, you will, it
seems, score a success beyond belief! But if we are both utterly ruined—ah
me!—I shall have been the absolute destruction of my whole family, to
whom I used to be at least no discredit! But pray, as I said in a previous
letter to you, look into the business, test it thoroughly, and write to me with
the candour which our situation demands, and not as your affection for me
would dictate. I shall retain my life as long as I shall think that it is in your
interest for me to do so, or that it ought to be preserved with a view to
future hope. You will find Sestius most friendly to us, and I believe that
Lentulus, the coming consul, will also be so for your sake. However, deeds
are not so easy as words. You will see what is wanted and what the truth is.
On the whole, supposing that no one takes advantage of your unprotected
position and our common calamity, it is by your means, or not at all, that
something may be effected. But even if your enemies have begun to annoy
you, don't flinch: for you will be attacked by legal process, not by swords.
However, I hope that this may not occur. I beg you to write me back word
on all subjects, and to believe that though I have less spirit and resource
than in old times, I have quite as much affection and loyalty.

LXXII (a iii, 15)
TO ATTICUS (AT ROME)

Thessalonica, 17 August

On the 13th of August I received four letters from you: one in b.c. 58,
which you urge me in a tone of reproof to be less weak; a second, æt. 48
in which you say that Crassus's freedman has told you about my
anxiety and leanness; a third, in which you describe the proceedings in the
senate; a fourth on the subject of Varro's assurances to you as to the friendly
feelings of Pompey.
To the first my answer is this: though I do grieve, yet I keep all my mental
faculties, and it is precisely that which vexes me—I have no opportunity
and no one with whom to employ so sound an intellect. For if you cannot
find yourself separated from one individual like myself without sorrow,
what do you think must be my case, who am deprived both of you and of
everyone else? And if you, while still in possession of all your rights, miss
me, to what an extent do you think those rights are missed by me? I will not
enumerate the things of which I have been despoiled, not only because you
are not ignorant of them, but also lest I should reopen my own sorrow. I
only assert this, that never did anyone in an unofficial position possess such
great advantages, or fall into such great miseries. Moreover, lapse of time
not only does not soften this grief, it even enhances it. For other sorrows are
softened by age, this one cannot but be daily increased both by my sense of
present misery and the recollection of my past life. For it is not only
property or friends that I miss, but myself. For what am I? But I will not
allow myself either to wring your soul with my complaints, or to place my
hands too often on my wounds. For as to your defence of those whom I said
had been jealous of me, and among them Cato, I indeed think that he was so
far removed from that crime, that I am above all things sorry that the
pretended zeal of others had more influence with me than his honesty. As
for your excuses for the others, they ought to be excused in my eyes if they

are so in yours. But all this is an old story now. Crassus's freedman, I think,
spoke without any real sincerity. In the senate you say that the debate was
satisfactory. But what about Curio? Hasn't he read that speech? I can't make
out how it got into circulation! But Axius, in describing the proceedings of
the same day, does not speak so highly of Curio.[332] But he may be
omitting something; I know you have certainly not written anything except
what actually occurred. Varro's talk gives me some hope of Cæsar, and
would that Varro himself would throw himself into the cause! Which he
certainly will do, both of his own accord and under pressure from you. For
myself, if fortune ever grants me the enjoyment of you all and of my
country, I will at least take care that you shall, above all the rest of my
friends, have cause to be glad: and I will so discharge all the duties of
affection and friendship, which (to confess the truth) have not heretofore
been conspicuous, that you shall regard me as restored to yourself as much
as to my brother and my children. If I have in any way sinned in my
conduct to you, or rather since I have done so, pardon me. For I have sinned
more grievously against myself. And I do not write this to you because I
know you not to feel deeply for my misfortune: but certainly if it had been a
matter of obligation with you, and had always been so, to love me as much
as you do and have done, you would never have allowed me to lack that
judgment with which you are so well supplied,[333] nor would you have
allowed me to be persuaded that the passing of the bill for the "colleges"
was to our advantage.[334] But you did nothing but weep over my sorrow, as
though you were my second self. This was indeed a sign of your affection:
but what might have been done, if I had earned it at your hands—the
spending by you of days and nights in thinking out the course I ought to
have pursued—that was omitted, owing to my own culpable imprudence,
not yours. Now if, I don't say you only, but if there had been anyone to urge
me, when alarmed at Pompey's ungenerous answer,[335] not to adopt that
most degrading course—and you are the person that, above all others, could
have done it—I should either have died honourably, or we should have been
living to-day triumphant. In this you must forgive me. For I find much
greater fault with myself, and only call you in question afterwards, as at
once my second self and the sharer in my error; and, besides, if I am ever
restored, our mistake will seem still less in my eyes, and to you at least I
shall be endeared by your own kindness, since there is none on my side.[336]

There is something in the suggestion you mentioned as having been made
in your conversation with Culleo as to a privilegium,[337] but by far the
better course is to have the law repealed. For if no one vetoes it, what
course can be safer? But if anyone is found to prohibit its passing, he will
be equally able to veto a decree of the senate. Nor is there need for the
repeal of anything else. For the previous law did not touch me: and if, on its
publication, I had chosen to speak in its favour, or to ignore it, as it ought to
have been ignored, it could not have done me any harm at all.[338] It was at
this point first that my judgment failed to assist me, nay, even did me harm.
Blind, blind, I say, was I in laying aside my senator's toga, and in entreating
the people; it was a fatal step to take before some attack had been begun
upon me by name.[339] But I am harping on the past: it is, however, for the
purpose of advising you, if any action is to be taken, not to touch that law,
in which there are many provisions in the interests of the people. But it is
foolish for me to be laying down rules as to what you are to do and how. I
only wish that something may be done! And it is on that point that your
letter displays much reserve: I presume, to prevent my being too much
agitated by despair. For what action do you see possible to be taken, or in
what way? Through the senate? But you yourself told me that Clodius had
fixed upon the doorpost of the senate-house a certain clause in the law, "that
it might neither be put to the house nor mentioned."[340] How could
Domitius,[341] therefore, say that he would bring it before the house? How
came it about also that Clodius held his tongue, when those you mention in
your letter both spoke on the subject and demanded that a motion should be
brought in? But if you go to the people—can it be carried except with the
unanimous approval of the tribunes? What about my property? What about
my house? Will it be possible to have it restored? Or, if that cannot, how
can I be? Unless you see these difficulties on the way to be solved, what is
the hope to which you invite me? But if, again, there is no hope, what sort
of life is there for me? So I await at Thessalonica the gazette of the
proceedings of the 1st of August, in accordance with which I shall decide
whether to take refuge on your estate, in order at once to avoid seeing
people I don't want to see, to see you, according to your letter, and to be
nearer at hand in case of any motion being made (and this I understand is in
accordance with your view and that of my brother Quintus), or to depart for
Cyzicus. Now, my dear Pomponius, since you imparted to me none of your

wisdom in time to save me, either because you had made up your mind that
I had judgment enough of my own, or that you owed me nothing beyond
being by my side; and since, betrayed, beguiled, and hurried into a snare as
I was, I neglected all my defences, abandoned and left Italy, which was
everywhere on the qui vive to defend me, and surrendered myself and mine
into the hands of enemies while you looked on and said nothing, though,
even if you were not my superior in mental power, you were at least in less
of a fright: now, if you can, raise the fallen, and in that way assist me! But if
every avenue is barred, take care that I know that also, and cease at length
either to scold me or to offer your kindly-meant consolations. If I had meant
to impeach your good faith, I should not have chosen your roof, of all
others, to which to trust myself: it is my own folly that I blame for having
thought that your love for me was exactly what I could have wished it to be:
[342]
for if that had been so, you would have displayed the same good faith,
but greater circumspection; at least, you would have held me back when
plunging headlong into ruin, and would not have had to encounter the
labours which you are now enduring in saving the wrecks of my fortunes.
Wherefore do be careful to look into, examine thoroughly, and write fully
everything that occurs, and resolve (as I am sure you do) that I shall be
some one, since I cannot now be the man I was and the man I might have
been; and lastly, believe that in this letter it is not you, but myself that I
have accused. If there are any people to whom you think that letters ought
to be delivered in my name, pray compose them and see them delivered.
17 August.

LXXIII (a iii, 16)
TO ATTICUS (AT ROME)

Thessalonica, 19 August

My whole journey is in suspense till I receive letters from you all b.c. 58,
of the 1st of August. For if there turns out to be any hope, I am for æt. 48
Epirus: if not, I shall make for Cyzicus or some other place. Your
letter is cheerful[343] indeed, but at the same time, the oftener I read it, the
more it weakens the suggested ground for hope, so that it is easy to see that
you are trying to minister at once to consolation and to truth. Accordingly, I
beg you to write to me exactly what you know and exactly what you think.
19 August.

LXXIV (a iii, 17)
TO ATTICUS (AT ROME)

Thessalonica, 4 September

News of my brother Quintus of an invariably gloomy nature b.c. 58,
reached me from the 3rd of June up to the 29th of August. On that æt. 48
day, however, Livineius, a freedman of Lucius Regulus, came to
me by the direction of Regulus himself.[344] He announced that absolutely
no notice whatever had been given of a prosecution, but that there had,
nevertheless, been some talk about the son of C. Clodius.[345] He also
brought me a letter from my brother Quintus. But next day came the slaves
of Sestius, who brought me a letter from you not so positive in regard to
this alarm as the conversation of Livineius had been. I am rendered very
anxious in the midst of my own endless distress, and the more so as
Appius[346] has the trial of the case. As to other circumstances mentioned in
the same letter by you in connexion with my hopes, I understand that things
are going less well than other people represent them. I, however, since we
are now not far from the time at which the matter will be decided, will
either go to your house or will still remain somewhere in this
neighbourhood. My brother writes me word that his interests are being
supported by you more than by anyone else. Why should I urge you to do
what you are already doing? or offer you thanks which you do not expect? I
only pray that fortune may give us the opportunity of enjoying our mutual
affection in security. I am always very anxious to get your letters, in which I
beg you not to be afraid of your minuteness boring me, or your plain
speaking giving me pain.
4 September.

LXXV (a iii, 18)
TO ATTICUS (AT ROME)

Thessalonica (September)

You raised no little flutter in my mind when you said in your letter b.c. 58,
that Varro had assured you as a friend that Pompey would æt. 48
certainly take up my case, and that as soon as he had received a
letter from Cæsar, which he was expecting, he would even name some one
to formally carry out the business. Was that all mere talk, or was the letter
from Cæsar hostile? Is there some ground for hope? You mentioned, too,
that Pompey had also used the expression "after the elections." Pray, as you
can conceive the severity of the troubles by which I am prostrated, and as
you must think it natural to your kindness to do so, inform me fully as to the
whole state of my case. For my brother Quintus, dear good fellow, who is
so much attached to me, fills his letters with hopeful expressions, fearing, I
suppose, my entirely losing heart. Whereas your letters vary in tone; for you
won't have me either despair or cherish rash hopes. I beseech you to let me
know everything as far as you can detect the truth.

LXXVI (a iii, 19)
TO ATTICUS (AT ROME)

Thessalonica, 15 September

As long as my letters from you all continued to be of such a nature b.c. 58,
as to keep expectation alive, I was bound to Thessalonica by hope æt. 48
and eager longing: afterwards, when all political measures for this
year appeared to me to be over, I yet determined not to go to Asia, both
because a crowd of people is disagreeable to me, and because, in case any
movement was set on foot by the new magistrates, I was unwilling to be far
off. Accordingly, I resolved to go to your house in Epirus, not because the
natural features of the country mattered to me, shunning as I do the light of
day altogether, but because it will be most grateful to my feelings to set out
from a harbour of yours to my restoration; and, if that restoration is denied
me, there is no place where I shall with greater ease either support this most
wretched existence or (which is much better) rid myself of it. I shall be in a
small society: I shall shake off the crowd. Your letters have never raised me
to such a pitch of hope as those of others; and yet my hopes have always
been less warm than your letters. Nevertheless, since a beginning has been
made in the case, of whatever sort and from whatever motive, I will not
disappoint the sad and touching entreaties of my best and only brother, nor
the promises of Sestius and others, nor the hopes of my most afflicted wife,
nor the entreaties of my most unhappy Tulliola, as well as your own loyal
letter. Epirus will furnish me with a road to restoration or to that other
alternative mentioned above. I beg and entreat of you, Titus Pomponius, as
you see that I have been despoiled by the treachery of men of all that most
adds splendour to life, of all that can most gratify and delight the soul, as
you see that I have been betrayed and cast away by my own advisers, as
you understand that I have been forced to ruin myself and my family—help
me by your compassion, and support my brother Quintus, who is still
capable of being saved; protect Terentia and my children. For myself, if you
think it possible that you may see me at Rome, wait for me; if not, come to

see me if you can, and make over to me just so much of your land as may
be covered by my corpse. Finally, send slaves to me with letters as soon and
as often as possible.
15 September.

LXXVII (a iii, 20)
TO ATTICUS (AT ROME)

Thessalonica, 4 October

Cicero greets Q. Cæcilius Pomponianus Atticus, son of Quintus.[347]
That this is now the case, and that your uncle has done what he b.c. 58,
ought to have done, I approve in the strongest manner possible: I æt. 48
will say I am "glad," when circumstances shall admit of my using
such a word. Ah me! how well everything would have been going if my
own spirit, my own judgment, and the good faith of those on whom I relied
had not failed me! But I won't review these circumstances lest I increase my
sorrow. Yet I feel sure that it occurs to your mind what a life ours was, how
delightful, how dignified. To recover this, in the name of fortune, bestow all
your energies, as I know you do, and take care that I keep the birthday of
my return in your delightful house with you and my family. For this hope
and expectation, though now put before me as being very strong, I yet
wished to wait in your home in Epirus; but my letters are such as to make
me think it better not to be in the same neighbourhood. What you say in
your letter about my town house and about Curio's speech is exactly true.
Under the general act of restoration, if only that is accorded me, everything
will be included, of which I care for nothing more than for my house. But I
don't give you any precise injunction, I trust myself wholly to your affection
and honour. I am very glad to hear that you have extricated yourself from
every embarrassment in view of so large an inheritance. As to your promise
to employ your means in securing my restoration, though I am in all points
assisted by you above all others, yet I quite see what a support that is, and I
fully understand that you are undertaking and can carry on many
departments of my cause, and do not need to be asked to do so. You tell me
not to suspect that your feelings have been at all affected by acts of
commission or omission on my part towards you—well, I will obey you and
will get rid of that anxiety; yet I shall owe you all the more from the fact

that your kind consideration for me has been on a higher level than mine for
you. Please tell me in your letters whatever you see, whatever you make
out, whatever is being done in my case, and exhort all your friends to help
in promoting my recall. The bill of Sestius[348] does not shew sufficient
regard for my dignity or sufficient caution. For the proposed law ought to
mention me by name, and to contain a carefully expressed clause about my
property. Pray see to it.
Thessalonica, 4 October.

LXXVIII (f xiv, 2)
TO TERENTIA (AT ROME)

Thessalonica, 5 October

Greetings to Terentia, and Tulliola, and Cicero. Don't suppose that b.c. 58,
I write longer letters to anyone else, unless some one has written æt. 48
at unusual length to me, whom I think myself bound to answer.
For I have nothing to write about, and there is nothing at such a time as this
that I find it more difficult to do. Moreover, to you and my dear Tulliola I
cannot write without many tears. For I see you reduced to the greatest
misery—the very people whom I desired to be ever enjoying the most
complete happiness, a happiness which it was my bounden duty to secure,
and which I should have secured if I had not been such a coward. Our dear
Piso I love exceedingly for his noble conduct. I have to the best of my
ability encouraged him by letter to proceed, and thanked him, as I was
bound to do. I gather that you entertain hopes in the new tribunes. We shall
have reason to depend on that, if we may depend on Pompey's goodwill, but
yet I am nervous about Crassus. I gather that you have behaved in every
respect with the greatest courage and most loyal affection, nor am I
surprised at it; but I grieve that the position should be such that my miseries
are relieved by such heavy ones on your part. For a kind friend of ours,
Publius Valerius, has told me in a letter which I could not read without
violent weeping, how you had been dragged from the temple of Vesta to the
Valerian bank.[349] To think of it, my dear, my love! You from whom
everybody used to look for help![350] That you, my Terentia, should now be
thus harassed, thus prostrate in tears and humiliating distress! And that this
should be brought about by my fault, who have preserved the rest of the
citizens only to perish myself! As to what you say about our town house, or
rather its site, I shall not consider myself fully restored, until it has also
been restored for me. However, these things are not yet within our grasp. I
am only sorry that you, impoverished and plundered as you are, should be
called upon to bear any part of the present expenses. Of course, if the

business is successfully accomplished we shall get everything back: but if
the same evil fortune keeps us down, will you be so foolish as to throw
away even the poor remains of your fortune?[351] I beseech you, my life, as
far as expense goes, allow others to bear it, who are well able if they are
only willing to do so; and do not, as you love me, try your delicate
constitution. For I have you day and night before my eyes: I see you eagerly
undertaking labours of every kind: I fear you cannot endure them. Yet I see
that everything depends on you! Wherefore, to enable us to attain what you
hope and are striving for, attend carefully to your health. I don't know to
whom to write except to those who write to me, or to those about whom
you say something in your letters. I will not go farther off, since that is your
wish, but pray send me a letter as often as possible, especially if there is
anything on which we may safely build our hope. Good-bye, my loves,
good-bye!
Thessalonica, 5 October.

LXXIX (a iii, 21)
TO ATTICUS (AT ROME)

Thessalonica, 28 October

It is exactly thirty days to the writing of this letter since I have b.c. 58,
heard from you. Well, my present intention is, as I have told you, æt. 48
to go into Epirus and there by preference to await whatever may
turn up. I beg you to write to me with the utmost openness whatever you
perceive to be the state of the case, and whether it is for good or evil, and
also to send a letter, as you say, in my name to whomsoever you think it
necessary.
28 October.

LXXX (a iii, 22)
TO ATTICUS (AT ROME)

Thessalonica and Dyrrachium, 27 November

Though my brother Quintus and Piso have given me a careful b.c. 58,
account of what has been done, yet I could have wished that your æt. 48
engagements had not hindered you from writing fully to me, as
has been your custom, what was on foot and what you understood to be the
facts. Up to the present, Plancius[352] keeps me here by his generous
treatment, though I have several times already made an effort to go to
Epirus. He has conceived a hope, which I do not share, that we may
possibly quit the province together: he hopes that that may redound greatly
to his credit. But as soon as news shall come that soldiers are on their way
hither,[353] I shall have to insist on quitting him. And as soon as I do that I
will at once send you word, that you may know where I am. Lentulus,[354]
in his own peculiar zeal for my cause, which he manifests by action and
promises and writings, gives me some hope of Pompey's friendly feelings.
For you have often told me in your letters that the latter was wholly devoted
to him. As to Metellus,[355] my brother has written me word that by your
agency as much has been accomplished as he had hoped. My dear
Pomponius, fight hard that I may be allowed to live with you and my own
family, and write me everything that occurs. I am heavy with sorrow and
regret for all my dear ones, who have always been dearer to me than
myself. Take care of your health.

Dyrrachium, 27 November. As, if I went through Thessaly into Epirus, I
should have been likely to be a very long time without any intelligence, and
as I have warm friends in the people of Dyrrachium, I have come to them,
after writing the former part of this letter at Thessalonica. When I turn my

face from this town towards your house I will let you know, and for your
part I would have you write me everything with the utmost particularity,
whatever its nature. I am now expecting some definite step or the
abandonment of all hope.

LXXXI (f xiv, 1)
TO TERENTIA

Partly Written at Thessalonica, partly at Dyrrachium, 28 November

Greetings to his Terentia, Tulliola, and Cicero. I learn, both from B.C. 58,
the letters of many and the conversation of all whom I meet, that ÆT. 48
you are shewing a virtue and courage surpassing belief; and that
you give no sign of fatigue in mind or body from your labours. Ah me! To
think that a woman of your virtue, fidelity, uprightness, and kindness should
have fallen into such troubles on my account! And that my little Tullia
should reap such a harvest of sorrow from the father, from whom she used
to receive such abundant joys! For why mention my boy Cicero, who from
the first moment of conscious feeling has been made aware of the bitterest
sorrows and miseries? And if, as you say, I had thought these things the
work of destiny, I could have borne them somewhat more easily, but they
were really all brought about by my own fault, in thinking myself beloved
by those who were really jealous of me, and in not joining those who really
wanted me.[356] But if I had followed my own judgment, and had not
allowed the observations of friends, who were either foolish or treacherous,
to have such great influence with me, we should have been living at the
height of bliss. As it is, since friends bid us hope, I will do my best to
prevent my weakness of health from failing to second your efforts. I fully
understand the magnitude of the difficulty, and how much easier it will turn
out to have been to stay at home than to get back. However, if we have all
the tribunes on our side, if we find Lentulus as zealous as he appears to be,
if, finally, we have Pompey and Cæsar, there is no reason to despair. About
our slaves,[357] we will do what you say is the opinion of our friends. As to
this place, by this time the epidemic has taken its departure; but while it
lasted, it did not touch me. Plancius, the kindest of men, desires me to stay
with him and still keeps me from departing. I wanted to be in a less
frequented district in Epirus, to which neither Hispo[358] nor soldiers would

come, but as yet Plancius keeps me from going; he hopes that he may
possibly quit his province for Italy in my company. And if ever I see that
day, and come once more into your arms, and if I ever recover you all and
myself, I shall consider that I have reaped a sufficient harvest both of your
piety and my own. Piso's[359] kindness, virtue, and affection toward us all
are so great that nothing can surpass them. I hope his conduct may be a
source of pleasure to him, a source of glory I see clearly that it will be. I did
not mean to find fault with you about my brother Quintus, but I wished that
you all, especially considering how few there are of you, should be as
closely united as possible. Those whom you wished me to thank I have
thanked, and told them that my information came from you. As to what you
say in your letter, my dear Terentia, about your intention of selling the
village, alas! in heaven's name, what will become of you? And if the same
ill-fortune continues to pursue us, what will become of our poor boy? I
cannot write the rest—so violent is my outburst of weeping, and I will not
reduce you to the same tearful condition. I only add this: if my friends
remain loyal to me, there will be no lack of money; if not, you will not be
able to effect our object out of your own purse. In the name of our unhappy
fortunes, beware how we put the finishing stroke to the boy's ruin. If he has
something to keep him from absolute want, he will need only moderate
character and moderate luck to attain the rest. See to your health, and mind
you send me letter-carriers, that I may know what is going on and what you
are all doing. I have in any case only a short time to wait. Give my love to
Tulliola and Cicero. Good-bye.

Dyrrachium,[360] 27 November.

P.S.—I have come to Dyrrachium both because it is a free state, very kindly
disposed to me, and the nearest point to Italy.[361] But if the crowded
condition of the place offends me, I shall take myself elsewhere and I will
write you word.

LXXXII (a iii, 23)
TO ATTICUS (AT ROME)

Dyrrachium, 29 November

On the 26th of November I received three letters from you, one b.c. 58,
dated 25th of October, in which you exhort me to await the month æt. 48
of January with a good heart, and write at length on such topics as
you think tend to encourage my hopes—as to the zeal of Lentulus, the
goodwill of Metellus, and the general policy of Pompey. In the second
letter, contrary to your usual custom, you append no date, but give sufficient
indication of the time of its writing. For the law having been published by
the eight tribunes, you mention that you wrote this letter on the very same
day, that is, the 29th of October,[362] and you say what good you think that
publication has done. In regard to which, if my restoration is to be despaired
of along with this law, I would have you think in your affection for me that
my fruitless exertions are pitiable rather than foolish: but if there is any
ground for hope, try and secure that my cause may be hereafter supported
with greater attention to details by the new magistrates. For this bill of the
old tribunes[363] had three clauses, of which the one relating to my return
was carelessly drafted. For nothing is restored to me except my citizenship
and senatorial rank: which, in the circumstances of my position, suffices
me, but it does not escape your observation what special provisions will
have to be made, and in what manner. The second clause is the usual one
—"If anything be done in virtue of this law against other laws."[364] But
observe, my dear Pomponius, what the object of the third clause is, and by
whom it has been put in. For you know that Clodius provided that it should
be scarcely possible, or rather altogether impossible, for his law to be
deprived of validity either by senate or people. But you must see that the
penal provisions of such laws as are repealed have never been observed. For
in that case hardly any law could be repealed at all—for there is no law
which does not hedge itself in by trying to make repeal difficult—but when

a law is repealed, so is the clause meant to prevent its repeal. Now, though
this is in truth the case, since it has been the universal doctrine and practice,
our eight tribunes introduced the following clause: If any provision is
contained in this bill which, in view of existing laws or plebiscites (i.e.,
Clodius's law), it is not lawful without incurring penalty, now or heretofore,
whether to publish, repeal, amend, or supersede, or whereby he who has so
published or amended would be liable to penalty or fine—such provision is
not enacted by this law. And observe that this contingency did not touch the
case of those eight tribunes, for they were not bound by a law emanating
from their own body.[365] Which makes one the more suspicious of some
evil intention, since they have added a clause which did not affect
themselves, but was against my interests: so that the new tribunes, if they
happened to be somewhat timid, would think it still more necessary to
employ the clause.[366] And Clodius did not fail to notice this. For he said in
the public meeting of November the third, that by this clause a limit to their
legal powers was laid down for the tribunes-designate; and yet it cannot
escape your notice that in no law is there a clause of the sort: whereas, if it
had been necessary, everybody would have employed it in repealing a law.
How this point came to escape Ninnius[367] and the rest, pray find out, and
who introduced the clause, and how it was that the eight tribunes did not
hesitate to bring my case before the senate—which implies that they did not
think that clause of the law binding—and were yet so cautious in their
proposal for its repeal, as to be afraid (though not personally liable) of what
need not be taken into consideration, even by those who are bound by the
law. This clause I would not have the new tribunes propose; however, let
them only carry something, no matter what: I shall be content with the
single clause recalling me, so long only as the business is done. I have for
some time been feeling ashamed of writing at such length; for I fear by the
time you read this it will be all up with any hopes, so that this minute
criticism of mine may seem pitiable to you and ridiculous to others. But if
there is any ground for hope, pray look at the law which Visellius[368]
drafted for T. Fadius. I like it very much: for that of our friend Sestius,
which you say has your approbation, I don't like.
The third letter is dated 12th of November, in which you explain with
wisdom and care what the circumstances are which seem to cause a
postponement of my affair, and about Crassus, Pompey, and the rest.

Accordingly, I beg you, if there is any hope that the matter can be settled by
the zeal of the loyalists, by the exertion of influence, and by getting
numbers on our side, to endeavour to break through all difficulties at a rush,
to throw your whole weight into the attempt, and incite others to do the
same. But if, as I perceive from your conjectures as well as my own, there
is no hope left, I beg and implore you to cherish my brother Quintus, whom
I to our mutual misery have ruined, and not allow him to do anything to
himself which would be to the detriment of your sister's son. My little
Cicero, to whom, poor boy! I leave nothing but prejudice and the blot upon
my name, pray protect to the best of your power. Terentia, that most
afflicted of women, sustain by your kindness. I shall start for Epirus as soon
as I have received news of the first days of the new tribunate.[369] Pray
describe fully to me in your next letter what sort of a beginning is made.
29 November.

LXXXIII (f xiv, 3)
TO TERENTIA (AT ROME)

Dyrrachium, 29 November

Greetings to his Terentia, Tulliola, and Cicero. I have received b.c. 58,
three letters from the hands of Aristocritus, which I almost æt. 48
obliterated with tears. For I am thoroughly weakened with sorrow,
my dear Terentia, and it is not my own miseries that torture me more than
yours—and yours, my children! Moreover, I am more miserable than you in
this, that whereas the disaster is shared by us both, yet the fault is all my
own. It was my duty to have avoided the danger by accepting a legation,
[370]
or to resist it by careful management and the resources at my
command, or to fall like a brave man. Nothing was more pitiful, more base,
or more unworthy of myself than the line I actually took. Accordingly, it is
with shame as well as grief that I am overpowered. For I am ashamed of not
having exhibited courage and care to a most excellent wife and most darling
children. I have, day and night, before my eyes the mourning dresses, the
tears of you all, and the weakness of your own health, while the hope of
recall presented to me is slender indeed. Many are hostile, nearly all
jealous. To expel me had been difficult, to keep me out is easy. However, as
long as you entertain any hope, I will not give way, lest all should seem lost
by my fault. As to your anxiety for my personal safety, that is now the
easiest thing in the world for me, for even my enemies desire me to go on
living in this utter wretchedness. I will, however, do as you bid me. I have
thanked the friends you desired me to thank, and I have delivered the letters
to Dexippus, and have mentioned that you had informed me of their
kindness. That our Piso has shewn surprising zeal and kindness to us I can
see for myself, but everybody also tells me of it. God grant that I may be
allowed, along with you and our children, to enjoy the actual society of
such a son-in-law! For the present our one remaining hope is in the new
tribunes, and that, too, in the first days of their office; if the matter is
allowed to get stale, it is all over with us. It is for that reason that I have

sent Aristocritus back to you at once, in order that you may be able to write
to me on the spot as to the first official steps taken, and the progress of the
whole business; although I have also given Dexippus orders to hurry back
here at once, and I have sent a message to my brother to despatch letter-
carriers frequently. For the professed object of my being at Dyrrachium at
the present juncture is that I may hear as speedily as possible what is being
done; and I am in no personal danger, for this town has always been
defended by me. When I am told that enemies are on their way here I shall
retire into Epirus. As to your coming to me, as you say you will if I wish it
—for my part, knowing that a large part of this burden is supported by you,
I should like you to remain where you are. If you succeed in your attempt I
must come to you: but if, on the other hand—but I needn't write the rest.
From your first, or at most, your second letter, I shall be able to decide what
I must do. Only be sure you tell me everything with the greatest minuteness,
although I ought now to be looking out for some practical step rather than a
letter. Take care of your health, and assure yourself that nothing is or has
ever been dearer to me than you are. Good-bye, my dear Terentia, whom I
seem to see before my eyes, and so am dissolved in tears. Good-bye!
29 November.

LXXXIV (a iii, 24)
TO ATTICUS (AT ROME)

Dyrrachium, 10 December

When, some time ago, I received letters from you all stating that b.c. 58,
with your consent the vote for the expenses of the consular æt. 48
provinces had been taken, though I was nervous as to the result of
the measure, I yet hoped that you saw some good reason for it beyond what
I could see: but when I was informed by word of mouth and by letters that
this policy of yours was strongly censured, I was much disturbed, because
the hope which I had cherished, faint as it was, seemed completely
destroyed. For if the tribunes are angry with us, what hope can there be?
And, indeed, they seem to have reason to be angry, since they, who had
undertaken my cause, have not been consulted on the measure; while by
your assenting to it they have been deprived of all the legitimate influence
of their office: and that though they profess that it was for my sake that they
wished to have the vote for the outfit of the consuls under their control, not
in order to curtail their freedom of action, but in order to attach them to my
cause:[371] that as things stand now, supposing the consuls to choose to take
part against me, they can do so without let or hindrance, but if they wish to
do anything in my favour they are powerless if the tribunes object. For as to
what you say in your letter, that, if your party had not consented, they
would have obtained their object by a popular vote—that would have been
impossible against the will of the tribunes.[372] So I fear, on the one hand,
that I have lost the favour of the tribunes; and on the other, even supposing
that favour to remain, that the tie has been lost by which the consuls were to
be attached. Added to this is another disadvantage, the abandonment of the
weighty resolution—as, indeed, it was reported to me—that the senate
should pass no decree until my case had been decided, and that, too, in the
case of a measure which was not only not urgent, but even contrary to
custom and unprecedented. For I think there is no precedent for voting the
provincial outfit of magistrates when still only designate: so that, since in a
matter like this the firm line[373] on which my cause had been taken up has
been infringed, there is now no reason why any decree should not be
passed. It is not surprising that those friends to whom the question was
referred assented, for it was difficult to find anyone to express an opinion
openly against proposals so advantageous to two consuls. It would in any
case have been difficult not to be complaisant to such a warm friend as
Lentulus, or to Metellus after the exceedingly kind way in which he put
aside his quarrel with me. But I fear that, while failing to keep a hold on

them, we have lost the tribunes. How this matter has occurred, and in what
position the whole business stands, I would have you write to me, and in the
same spirit as before: for your outspoken candour, even if not altogether
pleasant, is yet what I prefer.
10 December.

LXXXV (a iii, 25)

TO ATTICUS (? IN EPIRUS[374])

Dyrrachium (December)

After you left me I received a letter from Rome, from which I see b.c. 58,
clearly that I must rot away in this state of disfranchisement: for I æt 48
can't believe (don't be offended at my saying so) that you would
have left town at this juncture, if there had been the least hope left of my
restoration. But I pass over this, that I may not seem to be ungrateful and to
wish everything to share my own ruin. All I ask of you is what you have
faithfully promised, that you will appear before the 1st of January wherever
I may be.

LXXXVI (a iii, 26)
The new year found Cicero still at Dyrrachium, waiting for the b.c. 57.
law to pass for his recall, which (owing chiefly to the riotous Coss., P.
opposition of Clodius) did not pass till the 5th of August. We Cornelius
Lentulus
have no letters in the interval between January and August, but Spinther,
a few lively ones recounting the nature of his return (4th of Q.
September), and four speeches dealing with his position and Cæcilius
Metellus
that of his property. He seems at once to have attached himself Nepos.
to Pompey, and to have promoted his appointment as
præfectus annonæ.

TO ATTICUS (? IN EPIRUS[374])

Dyrrachium, January

I have received a letter from my brother Quintus inclosing the b.c. 57,
decree of the senate passed concerning me. My intention is to æt. 49
await the time for legislation, and, if the law is defeated, I shall
avail myself of the resolution of the senate,[375] and prefer to be deprived of
my life rather than of my country. Make haste, I beg, to come to me.

LXXXVII (a iii, 27)
TO ATTICUS (? AT ROME)

Dyrrachium (After 25 January)

From your letter and from the bare facts I see that I am utterly b.c. 57,
ruined.[376] I implore you, in view of my deplorable position, to æt. 49
stand by my family in whatever respect they shall need your help.
I shall, as you say, see you soon.

LXXXVIII (f v, 4)
TO Q. METELLUS THE CONSUL (AT ROME)

Dyrrachium (January)

A letter from my brother Quintus, and one from my friend Titus b.c. 57,
Pomponius, had given me so much hope, that I depended on your æt. 49
assistance no less than on that of your colleague. Accordingly, I at
once sent you a letter in which, as my present position required, I offered
you thanks and asked for the continuance of your assistance. Later on, not
so much the letters of my friends, as the conversation of travellers by this
route, indicated that your feelings had undergone a change; and that
circumstance prevented my venturing to trouble you with letters. Now,
however, my brother Quintus has sent me a copy which he had made of
your exceedingly kind speech delivered in the senate. Induced by this I have
attempted to write to you, and I do ask and beg of you, as far as I may
without giving you offence, to preserve your own friends along with me,
rather than attack me to satisfy the unreasonable vindictiveness of your
connexions. You have, indeed, conquered yourself so far as to lay aside
your own enmity for the sake of the Republic: will you be induced to
support that of others against the interests of the Republic? But if you will
in your clemency now give me assistance, I promise you that I will be at
your service henceforth: but if neither magistrates, nor senate, nor people
are permitted to aid me, owing to the violence which has proved too strong
for me, and for the state as well, take care lest—though you may wish the
opportunity back again for retaining all and sundry in their rights—you find
yourself unable to do so, because there will be nobody to be retained.[377]

LXXXIX (a iv, 1)
TO ATTICUS (IN EPIRUS)

Rome (September)

Directly I arrived at Rome, and there was anyone to whom I could b.c. 57,
safely intrust a letter for you, I thought the very first thing I ought æt. 49
to do was to congratulate you in your absence on my return. For I
knew, to speak candidly, that though in giving me advice you had not been
more courageous or far-seeing than myself, nor—considering my devotion
to you in the past—too careful in protecting me from disaster, yet that you
—though sharing in the first instance in my mistake, or rather madness, and
in my groundless terror—had nevertheless been deeply grieved at our
separation, and had bestowed immense pains, zeal, care, and labour in
securing my return. Accordingly, I can truly assure you of this, that in the
midst of supreme joy and the most gratifying congratulations, the one thing
wanting to fill my cup of happiness to the brim is the sight of you, or rather
your embrace; and if I ever forfeit that again, when I have once got
possession of it, and if, too, I do not exact the full delights of your charming
society that have fallen into arrear in the past, I shall certainly consider
myself unworthy of this renewal of my good fortune.
In regard to my political position, I have resumed what I thought there
would be the utmost difficulty in recovering—my brilliant standing at the
bar, my influence in the senate, and a popularity with the loyalists even
greater than I desired. In regard, however, to my private property—as to
which you are well aware to what an extent it has been crippled, scattered,
and plundered—I am in great difficulties, and stand in need, not so much of
your means (which I look upon as my own), as of your advice for collecting
and restoring to a sound state the fragments that remain. For the present,
though I believe everything finds its way to you in the letters of your
friends, or even by messengers and rumour, yet I will write briefly what I
think you would like to learn from my letters above all others. On the 4th of

August I started from Dyrrachium, the very day on which the law about me
was carried. I arrived at Brundisium on the 5th of August. There my dear
Tulliola met me on what was her own birthday, which happened also to be
the name-day of the colony of Brundisium and of the temple of Safety, near
your house. This coincidence was noticed and celebrated with warm
congratulations by the citizens of Brundisium. On the 8th of August, while
still at Brundisium, I learnt by a letter from Quintus that the law had been
passed at the comitia centuriata with a surprising enthusiasm on the part of
all ages and ranks, and with an incredible influx of voters from Italy. I then
commenced my journey, amidst the compliments of the men of highest
consideration at Brundisium, and was met at every point by legates bearing
congratulations. My arrival in the neighbourhood of the city was the signal
for every soul of every order known to my nomenclator coming out to meet
me, except those enemies who could not either dissemble or deny the fact
of their being such. On my arrival at the Porta Capena, the steps of the
temples were already thronged from top to bottom[378] by the populace; and
while their congratulations were displayed by the loudest possible applause,
a similar throng and similar applause accompanied me right up to the
Capitol, and in the forum and on the Capitol itself there was again a
wonderful crowd. Next day, in the senate, that is, the 5th of September, I
spoke my thanks to the senators. Two days after that—there having been a
very heavy rise in the price of corn, and great crowds having flocked first to
the theatre and then to the senate-house, shouting out, at the instigation of
Clodius, that the scarcity of corn was my doing—meetings of the senate
being held on those days to discuss the corn question, and Pompey being
called upon to undertake the management of its supply in the common talk
not only of the plebs, but of the aristocrats also, and being himself desirous
of the commission, when the people at large called upon me by name to
support a decree to that effect, I did so, and gave my vote in a carefully-
worded speech. The other consulars, except Messalla and Afranius, having
absented themselves on the ground that they could not vote with safety to
themselves, a decree of the senate was passed in the sense of my motion,
namely, that Pompey should be appealed to to undertake the business, and
that a law should be proposed to that effect. This decree of the senate
having been publicly read, and the people having, after the senseless and
new-fangled custom that now prevails, applauded the mention of my name,
[379]
I delivered a speech. All the magistrates present, except one prætor and

two tribunes, called on me to speak.[380] Next day a full senate, including all
the consulars, granted everything that Pompey asked for. Having demanded
fifteen legates, he named me first in the list, and said that he should regard
me in all things as a second self. The consuls drew up a law by which
complete control over the corn-supply for five years throughout the whole
world was given to Pompey. A second law is drawn up by Messius,[381]
granting him power over all money, and adding a fleet and army, and an
imperium in the provinces superior to that of their governors. After that our
consular law seems moderate indeed: that of Messius is quite intolerable.
Pompey professes to prefer the former; his friends the latter. The consulars
led by Favonius murmur: I hold my tongue, the more so that the pontifices
have as yet given no answer in regard to my house.[382] If they annul the
consecration I shall have a splendid site. The consuls, in accordance with a
decree of the senate, will value the cost of the building that stood upon it;
but if the pontifices decide otherwise, they will pull down the Clodian
building, give out a contract in their own name (for a temple), and value to
me the cost of a site and house. So our affairs are

"For happy though but ill, for ill not worst."[383]

In regard to money matters I am, as you know, much embarrassed. Besides,
there are certain domestic troubles, which I do not intrust to writing. My
brother Quintus I love as he deserves for his eminent qualities of loyalty,
virtue, and good faith. I am longing to see you, and beg you to hasten your
return, resolved not to allow me to be without the benefit of your advice. I
am on the threshold, as it were, of a second life. Already certain persons
who defended me in my absence begin to nurse a secret grudge at me now
that I am here, and to make no secret of their jealousy. I want you very
much.

XC (a iv, 2)
TO ATTICUS (IN EPIRUS)

Rome (October)

If by any chance you get letters less frequently from me than from b.c. 57,
others, I beg you not to put it down to my negligence, or even to æt. 49
my engagements; for though they are very heavy, there can be
none sufficient to stop the course of our mutual affection and of the
attention I owe to you. The fact is that, since my return to Rome, this is only
the second time that I have been told of anyone to whom I could deliver a
letter, and accordingly this is my second letter to you. In my former I
described the reception I had on my return, what my political position was,
and how my affairs were.

"For happy though but ill, for ill not worst."

The despatch of that letter was followed by a great controversy about my
house. I delivered a speech before the pontifices on the 29th of September. I
pleaded my cause with care, and if I ever was worth anything as a speaker,
or even if I never was on any other occasion, on this one at any rate my
indignation at the business, and the importance of it, did add a certain
vigour to my style.[384] Accordingly, the rising generation must not be left
without the benefit of this speech, which I shall send you all the same, even
if you don't want it.[385] The decree of the pontifices was as follows: "If
neither by order of the people nor vote of the plebs the party alleging that he
had dedicated had been appointed by name to that function, nor by order of
the people or vote of the plebs had been commanded to do so, we are of
opinion that the part of the site in question may be restored to M. Tullius
without violence to religion." Upon this I was at once congratulated—for no
one doubted that my house was thereby adjudged to me—when all on a
sudden that fellow mounts the platform to address a meeting, invited to
speak by Appius,[386] and announces at once to the people that the

pontifices had decided in his favour,[387] but that I was endeavouring to take
forcible possession; he exhorts them to follow himself and Appius to defend
their own shrine of Liberty.[388] Hereupon, when even those credulous
hearers partly wondered and partly laughed at the fellow's mad folly, I
resolved not to go near the place until such time as the consuls by decree of
the senate had given out the contract for restoring the colonnade of Catulus.
[389]
On the 1st of October there was a full meeting of the senate. All the
pontifices who were senators were invited to attend, and Marcellinus,[390]
who is a great admirer of mine, being called on to speak first, asked them
what was the purport of their decree. Then M. Lucullus, speaking for all his
colleagues, answered that the pontifices were judges of a question of
religion, the senate of the validity of a law: that he and his colleagues had
given a decision on a point of religion; in the senate they would with the
other senators decide on the law. Accordingly, each of them, when asked in
their proper order for their opinion, delivered long arguments in my favour.
When it came to Clodius's turn, he wished to talk out the day, and he went
on endlessly; however, after he had spoken for nearly three hours, he was
forced by the loud expression of the senate's disgust to finish his speech at
last. On the decree in accordance with the proposal of Marcellinus passing
the senate against a minority of one, Serranus interposed his veto.[391] At
once both consuls referred the question of Serranus's veto to the senate.
After some very resolute speeches had been delivered—"that it was the
decision of the senate that the house should be restored to me": "that a
contract should be given out for the colonnade of Catulus": "that the
resolution of the house should be supported by all the magistrates": "that if
any violence occurred, the senate would consider it to be the fault of the
magistrate who vetoed the decree of the senate"—Serranus became
thoroughly frightened, and Cornicinus repeated his old farce: throwing off
his toga, he flung himself at his son-in-law's feet.[392] The former demanded
a night for consideration. They would not grant it: for they remembered the
1st of January. It was, however, at last granted with difficulty on my
interposition. Next day the decree of the senate was passed which I send
you. Thereupon the consuls gave out a contract for the restoration of the
colonnade of Catulus: the contractors immediately cleared that portico of
his away to the satisfaction of all.[393] The buildings of my house the
consuls, by the advice of their assessors, valued at 2,000,000 sesterces

(about £16,000).[394] The rest was valued very stingily. My Tusculan villa at
500,000 sesterces (about £4,000): my villa at Formiæ at 250,000 sesterces
(about £2,000)—an estimate loudly exclaimed against not only by all the
best men, but even by the common people. You will say, "What was the
reason?" They for their part say it was my modesty—because I would
neither say no, nor make any violent expostulation. But that is not the real
cause: for that indeed in itself would have been in my favour.[395] But, my
dear Pomponius, those very same men, I tell you, of whom you are no more
ignorant than myself, having clipped my wings, are unwilling that they
should grow again to their old size. But, as I hope, they are already growing
again. Only come to me! But this, I fear, may be retarded by the visit of
your and my friend Varro. Having now heard the actual course of public
business, let me inform you of what I have in my thoughts besides. I have
allowed myself to be made legatus to Pompey, but only on condition that
nothing should stand in the way of my being entirely free either to stand, if
I choose, for the censorship—if the next consuls hold a censorial election—
or to assume a "votive commission" in connexion with nearly any fanes or
sacred groves.[396] For this is what falls in best with our general policy and
my particular occasions. But I wished the power to remain in my hands of
either standing for election, or at the beginning of the summer of going out
of town: and meanwhile I thought it not disadvantageous to keep myself
before the eyes of the citizens who had treated me generously. Well, such
are my plans in regard to public affairs; my domestic affairs are very
intricate and difficult. My town house is being built: you know how much
expense and annoyance the repair of my Formian villa occasions me, which
I can neither bear to relinquish nor to look at. I have advertised my
Tusculan property for sale; I don't much care for a suburban residence.[397]
The liberality of friends has been exhausted in a business which brought me
nothing but dishonour: and this you perceived though absent, as did others
on the spot, by whose zeal and wealth I could easily have obtained all I
wanted, had only my supporters allowed it.[398] In this respect I am now in
serious difficulty. Other causes of anxiety are somewhat more of the
tacenda kind.[399] My brother and daughter treat me with affection. I am
looking forward to seeing you.

XCI (a iv, 3)
TO ATTICUS (IN EPIRUS)

Rome, 24 November

I am very well aware that you long to know what is going on here, b.c. 57,
and also to know it from me, not because things done before the æt. 49
eyes of the whole world are better realized when narrated by my
hand than when reported to you by the pens or lips of others, but because it
is from my letters that you get what you want—a knowledge of my feelings
in regard to the occurrences, and what at such a juncture is the state of my
mind, or, in a word, the conditions in which I am living. On the 3rd of
November the workmen were driven from the site of my house by armed
ruffians: the porticus Catuli,[400] which was being rebuilt on a contract
given out by the consuls, in accordance with a decree of the senate, and had
nearly reached the roof, was battered down: the house of my brother
Quintus[401] was first smashed with volleys of stones thrown from my site,
and then set on fire by order of Clodius, firebrands having been thrown into
it in the sight of the whole town, amidst loud exclamations of indignation
and sorrow, I will not say of the loyalists—for I rather think there are none
—but of simply every human being. That madman runs riot: thinks after
this mad prank of nothing short of murdering his opponents: canvasses the
city street by street: makes open offers of freedom to slaves. For the fact is
that up to this time, while trying to avoid prosecution,[402] he had a case,
difficult indeed to support, and obviously bad, but still a case: he might
have denied the facts, he might have shifted the blame on others, he might
even have pleaded that some part of his proceedings had been legal. But
after such wrecking of buildings, incendiaries, and wholesale robberies as
these, being abandoned by his supporters, he hardly retains on his side
Decimus the marshal,[403] or Gellius; takes slaves into his confidence; sees
that, even if he openly assassinates everyone he wishes to, he will not have
a worse case before a court of law than he has at present. Accordingly, on

the 11th of November, as I was going down the Sacred Way, he followed
me with his gang. There were shouts, stone-throwing, brandishing of clubs
and swords, and all this without a moment's warning. I and my party
stepped aside into Tettius Damio's vestibule: those accompanying me easily
prevented his roughs from getting in. He might have been killed himself.
[404]
But I am now on a system of cure by regimen: I am tired of surgery.
The fellow, seeing that what everybody called for was not his prosecution
but his instant execution, has since made all your Catilines seem models of
respectability.[405] For on the 12th of November he tried to storm and set
fire to Milo's house, I mean the one on Germalus:[406] and so openly was
this done, that at eleven o'clock in the morning he brought men there armed
with shields and with their swords drawn, and others with lighted torches.
He had himself occupied the house of P. Sulla[407] as his headquarters from
which to conduct the assault upon Milo's. Thereupon Q. Flaccus led out
some gallant fellows from Milo's other house (the Anniana): killed the most
notorious bravoes of all Clodius's gang: wanted to kill Clodius himself; but
my gentleman took refuge in the inner part of Sulla's house. The next thing
was a meeting of the senate on the 14th. Clodius stayed at home:
Marcellinus[408] was splendid: all were keen. Metellus[409] talked the
business out by an obstructive speech, aided by Appius, and also, by
Hercules! by your friend on whose firmness you wrote me such a
wonderfully true letter! Sestius[410] was fuming. Afterwards the fellow
vows vengeance on the city if his election is stopped. Marcellinus's
resolution having been exposed for public perusal (he had read it from a
written copy, and it embraced our entire case—the prosecution was to
include his violent proceedings on the site of my house, his arson, his
assault on me personally, and was to take place before the elections), he put
up a notice that he intended to watch the sky during all comitial days.[411]
Public speeches of Metellus disorderly, of Appius hot-headed, of Publius
stark mad. The upshot, however, was that, had not Milo served his notice of
bad omens in the campus, the elections would have been held. On the 19th
of November Milo arrived on the campus before midnight with a large
company. Clodius, though he had picked gangs of runaway slaves, did not
venture into the campus. Milo stopped there till midday,[412] to everybody's
great delight and his own infinite credit: the movement of the three
brethren[413] ended in their own disgrace; their violence was crushed, their

madness made ridiculous. However, Metellus demands that the obstructive
notice should be served on him next day in the forum: "there was no need to
come to the campus before daybreak: he would be in the comitium at the
first hour of the day."[414] Accordingly, on the 20th Milo came to the forum
before sunrise. Metellus at the first sign of dawn was stealthily hurrying to
the campus, I had almost said by by-lanes: Milo catches our friend up
"between the groves"[415] and serves his notice. The latter returned greeted
with loud and insulting remarks by Q. Flaccus. The 21st was a market day.
[416]
For two days no public meeting. I am writing this letter on the 23rd at
three o'clock in the morning. Milo is already in possession of the campus.
The candidate Marcellus[417] is snoring so loud that I can hear him next
door. I am told that Clodius's vestibule is completely deserted: there are a
few ragged fellows there and a canvas lantern.[418] His party complains that
I am the adviser of the whole business: they little know the courage and
wisdom of that hero! His gallantry is astonishing. Some recent instances of
his superhuman excellence I pass over; but the upshot is this: I don't think
the election will take place. I think Publius will be brought to trial by Milo
—unless he is killed first. If he once puts himself in his way in a riot, I can
see that he will be killed by Milo himself. The latter has no scruple about
doing it; he avows his intention; he isn't at all afraid of what happened to
me, for he will never listen to the advice of a jealous and faithless friend,
nor trust a feeble aristocrat. In spirit, at any rate, I am as vigorous as in my
zenith, or even more so; in regard to money I am crippled. However, the
liberality of my brother I have, in spite of his protests, repaid (as the state of
my finances compelled) by the aid of my friends, that I might not be
drained quite dry myself. What line of policy to adopt in regard to my
position as a whole, I cannot decide in your absence: wherefore make haste
to town.

XCII (q fr ii, 1)

TO HIS BROTHER QUINTUS (IN SARDINIA[419])

Rome (10 December)

The letter which you have already read I had sent off in the b.c. 57,
morning. But Licinius was polite enough to call on me in the æt. 49
evening after the senate had risen, that, in case of any business
having been done there, I might, if I thought good, write an account of it to
you. The senate was fuller than I had thought possible in the month of
December just before the holidays. Of us consulars there were P. Servilius,
M. Lucullus, Lepidus, Volcatius, Glabrio: the two consuls-designate; the
prætors. We were a really full house: two hundred in all.[420] Lupus had
excited some interest.[421] He raised the question of the Campanian land in
considerable detail. He was listened to in profound silence. You are not
unaware what material that subject affords. He omitted none of the points
which I had made in this business.[422] There were some sharp thrusts at
Cæsar, some denunciations of Gellius, some appeals to the absent Pompey.
After concluding his speech at a late hour, he said that he would not ask for
our votes lest he might burden us with a personal controversy; he quite
understood the sentiments of the senate from the denunciations of past
times and the silence on the present occasion. Milo spoke. Lupus begins the
formula of dismissal,[423] when Marcellinus says: "Don't infer from our
silence, Lupus, what we approve or disapprove of at this particular time. As
far as I am concerned, and I think it is the same with the rest, I am only
silent because I do not think it suitable that the case of the Campanian land
should be debated in Pompey's absence." Then Lupus said that he would
not detain the senate.[423] Racilius rose and began bringing before the house
the case of the proposed prosecutions. He calls upon Marcellinus, of course,
first;[424] who, after complaining in serious tones of the Clodian
incendiaries, massacres, and stonings, proposed a resolution that "Clodius
himself should, under the superintendence of the prætor urbanus, have his

jury allotted to him; that the elections should be held only when the
allotment of jurors[425] had been completed; that whoever stopped the trials
would be acting against the interests of the state."[426] The proposal having
been received with warm approval, Gaius Cato[427]—as did also Cassius—
spoke against it, with very emphatic murmurs of disapprobation on the part
of the senate, when he proposed to hold the elections before the trials.
Philippus supported Lentulus.[428] After that Racilius called on me first of
the unofficial senators for my opinion.[429] I made a long speech upon the
whole story of P. Clodius's mad proceedings and murderous violence: I
impeached him as though he were on his trial, amidst frequent murmurs of
approbation from the whole senate. My speech was praised at considerable
length, and, by Hercules! with no little oratorical skill by Antistius Vetus,
who also supported the priority of the legal proceedings, and declared that
he should consider it of the first importance. The senators were crossing the
floor in support of this view,[430] when Clodius, being called on, began
trying to talk out the sitting. He spoke in furious terms of having been
attacked by Racilius in an unreasonable and discourteous manner. Then his
roughs on the Græcostasis[431] and the steps of the house suddenly raised a
pretty loud shout, in wrath, I suppose, against Q. Sextilius and the other
friends of Milo. At this sudden alarm we broke up with loud expressions of
indignation on all sides. Here are the transactions of one day for you: the
rest, I think, will be put off to January. Of all the tribunes I think Racilius is
by far the best: Antistius also seems likely to be friendly to me: Plancius, of
course, is wholly ours. Pray, if you love me, be careful and cautious about
sailing in December.

XCIII (f vii, 26)
TO M. FADIUS GALLUS (AT ROME)

Tusculum[432] (? December)

Having been suffering for nine days past from a severe disorder of b.c. 57,
the bowels, and being unable to convince those who desired my æt. 49
services that I was ill because I had no fever, I fled to my Tusculan
villa, after having, in fact, observed for two days so strict a fast as not even
to drink a drop of water. Accordingly, being thoroughly reduced by
weakness and hunger, I was more in want of your services than I thought
mine could be required by you. For myself, while shrinking from all
illnesses, I especially shrink from that in regard to which the Stoics attack
your friend Epicurus for saying that "he suffered from strangury and pains
in the bowels"—the latter of which complaints they attribute to gluttony, the
former to a still graver indulgence. I had been really much afraid of
dysentery. But either the change of residence, or the mere relaxation of
anxiety, or perhaps the natural abatement of the complaint from lapse of
time, seems to me to have done me good. However, to prevent your
wondering how this came about, or in what manner I let myself in for it, I
must tell you that the sumptuary law, supposed to have introduced plain
living, was the origin of my misfortune. For whilst your epicures wish to
bring into fashion the products of the earth, which are not forbidden by the
law, they flavour mushrooms, petits choux, and every kind of pot-herb so as
to make them the most tempting dishes possible.[433] Having fallen a victim
to these in the augural banquet at the house of Lentulus, I was seized with a
violent diarrhœa, which, I think, has been checked to-day for the first time.
And so I, who abstain from oysters and lampreys without any difficulty,
have been beguiled by beet and mallows. Henceforth, therefore, I shall be
more cautious. Yet, having heard of it from Anicius[434]—for he saw me
turning sick—you had every reason not only for sending to inquire, but
even for coming to see me. I am thinking of remaining here till I am

thoroughly restored, for I have lost both strength and flesh. However, if I
can once get completely rid of my complaint, I shall, I hope, easily recover
these.

XCIV (f i, 1)
In the year b.c. 56 the growing differences between the b.c. 56.
triumvirs were temporarily composed at the meeting at Luca, Coss.,
and Cicero made up his mind that the only course for him to Cn.Cornelius
pursue was to attach himself to them, as the party of the boni Lentulus
had not, as he hoped, taken advantage of those differences to Marcellin
attach Pompey to themselves as a leader against Cæsar. His us, L.
Marcius
recantation is indicated in the speeches de Provinciis Philippus.
Consularibus and pro Balbo, in which he practically supports
part, at least, of the arrangements of Luca.

TO P. LENTULUS SPINTHER[435] (IN CILICIA)

Rome, 13 January

Whatever attention or affection I may shew you, though it may b.c. 56,
seem sufficient in the eyes of others, can never seem sufficient in æt. 50
my own. For such has been the magnitude of your services to me
that, inasmuch as you never rested till my affair was brought to a
conclusion, while I cannot effect the same in your cause,[436] I regard my
life as a burden. The difficulties are these. The king's agent, Hammonius, is
openly attacking us by bribery. The business is being carried out by means
of the same money-lenders as it was when you were in town. Such people
as wish it done for the king's sake—and they are few—are all for intrusting
the business to Pompey. The senate supports the trumped-up religious
scruple, not from any respect to religion, but from ill-feeling towards him,
and disgust at the king's outrageous bribery. I never cease advising and
instigating Pompey—even frankly finding fault with and admonishing him
—to avoid what would be a most discreditable imputation.[437] But he really
leaves no room for either entreaties or admonitions from me. For, whether
in everyday conversation or in the senate, no one could support your cause
with greater eloquence, seriousness, zeal, and energy than he has done,

testifying in the highest terms to your services to himself and his affection
for you. Marcellinus, you know, is incensed with his flute-playing majesty.
[438]
In everything, saving and excepting this case of the king, he professes
the intention of being your champion. We take what he gives: nothing can
move him from his motion as to the religious difficulty, which he made up
his mind to bring, and has, in fact, brought several times before the senate.
The debate up to the Ides (for I am writing early in the morning of the
Ides[439]) has been as follows: Hortensius and I and Lucullus voted for
yielding to the religious scruple as far as concerned the army,[440] for
otherwise there was no possibility of getting the matter through, but, in
accordance with the decree already passed on your own motion, were for
directing you to restore the king, "so far as you may do so without
detriment to the state": so that while the religious difficulty prohibits the
employment of an army, the senate might still retain you as the person
authorized. Crassus votes for sending three legates, not excluding Pompey:
for he would allow them to be selected even from such as are at present in
possession of imperium.[441] Bibulus is for three legates selected from men
without imperium. The other consulars agree with the latter, except
Servilius, who says that he ought not to be restored at all: and Volcatius,
who on the motion of Lupus votes for giving the business to Pompey: and
Afranius, who agrees with Volcatius. This last fact increases the suspicion
as to Pompey's wishes: for it was noticed that Pompey's intimates agreed
with Volcatius. We are in a very great difficulty: the day seems going
against us. The notorious colloguing and eagerness of Libo and Hypsæus,
and the earnestness displayed by Pompey's intimates, have produced an
impression that Pompey desires it; and those who don't want him to have it
are at the same time annoyed with your having put power into his hands.
[442]
I have the less influence in the case because I am under an obligation to
you. Moreover, whatever influence I might have had is extinguished by the
idea people entertain as to Pompey's wishes, for they think they are
gratifying him. We are in much the same position as we were long before
your departure: now, as then, the sore has been fomented secretly by the
king himself and by the friends and intimates of Pompey, and then openly
irritated by the consulars, till the popular prejudice has been excited to the
highest pitch. All the world shall recognize my loyalty, and your friends on
the spot shall see my affection for you though you are absent. If there were

any good faith in those most bound to shew it, we should be in no difficulty
at all.

XCV (f i, 2)
TO P. LENTULUS SPINTHER (IN CILICIA)

Rome, 15 January

Nothing was done on the 13th of January in the senate, because b.c. 56,
the day was to a great extent spent in an altercation between the æt. 50
consul Lentulus and the tribune Caninius. On that day I also spoke
at considerable length, and thought that I made a very great impression on
the senate by dwelling on your affection for the house. Accordingly, next
day we resolved that we would deliver our opinions briefly: for it appeared
to us that the feelings of the senate had been softened towards us—the
result not only of my speech, but of my personal appeal and application to
individual senators. Accordingly, the first proposition, that of Bibulus,
having been delivered, that three legates should restore the king: the second,
that of Hortensius, that you should restore him without an army: the third,
that of Volcatius, that Pompey should do it, a demand was made that the
proposal of Bibulus should be taken in two parts.[443] As far as he dealt with
the religious difficulty—a point which was now past being opposed—his
motion was carried; his proposition as to three legates was defeated by a
large majority. The next was the proposition of Hortensius. Thereupon the
tribune Lupus, on the ground that he had himself made a proposal about
Pompey, starts the contention that he ought to divide the house before the
consuls. His speech was received on all sides by loud cries of "No": for it
was both unfair and unprecedented. The consuls would not give in, and yet
did not oppose with any vigour. Their object was to waste the day, and in
that they succeeded:[444] for they saw very well that many times the number
would vote for the proposal of Hortensius, although they openly professed
their agreement with Volcatius. Large numbers were called upon for their
opinion, and that, too, with the assent of the consuls: for they wanted the
proposal of Bibulus carried. This dispute was protracted till nightfall, and
the senate was dismissed. I happened to be dining with Pompey on that day,
and I seized the opportunity—the best I have ever had, for since your

departure I have never occupied a more honourable position in the senate
than I had on that day—of talking to him in such a way, that I think I
induced him to give up every other idea and resolve to support your claims.
And, indeed, when I actually hear him talk, I acquit him entirely of all
suspicion of personal ambition: but when I regard his intimates of every
rank, I perceive, what is no secret to anybody, that this whole business has
been long ago corruptly manipulated by a certain coterie, not without the
king's own consent and that of his advisers.
I write this on the 15th of January, before daybreak. To-day there is to be a
meeting of the senate. We shall maintain, as I hope, our position in the
senate as far as it is possible to do so in such an age of perfidy and unfair
dealing. As to an appeal to the people on the subject, we have, I think,
secured that no proposition can be brought before them without neglect of
the auspices or breach of the laws, or, in fine, without downright violence.
[445]
The day before my writing these words a resolution of the senate on
these matters of the most serious character was passed, and though Cato and
Caninius vetoed it, it was nevertheless written out.[446] I suppose it has been
sent to you. On all other matters I will write and tell you what has been
done, whatever it is, and I will see that everything is carried out with the
most scrupulous fairness as far as my caution, labour, attention to details,
and influence can secure it.

XCVI (f i, 3)
TO P. LENTULUS SPINTHER (IN CILICIA)

Rome (? January)

M. Cicero presents his compliments to P. Lentulus, proconsul.
Aulus Trebonius, who has important business in your province, b.c. 56,
both of wide extent and sound, is an intimate friend of mine of æt. 50
many years' standing. As before this he has always, both from his
brilliant position and the recommendations of myself and his other friends,
enjoyed the highest popularity in the province, so at the present time,
trusting to your affection for me and our close ties, he feels sure that this
letter of mine will give him a high place in your esteem. That he may not be
disappointed in that hope I earnestly beg of you, and I commend to you all
his business concerns, his freedmen, agents, and servants; and specially that
you will confirm the decrees made by T. Ampius in his regard, and treat him
in all respects so as to convince him that my recommendation is no mere
ordinary one.[447]

XCVII (f i, 4)
TO P. LENTULUS SPINTHER (IN CILICIA)

Rome, January

Though in the senate of the 15th of January we made a most b.c. 56,
glorious stand, seeing that on the previous day we had defeated æt. 50
the proposal of Bibulus about the three legates, and the only
contest left was with the proposal of Volcatius, yet the business was spun
out by our opponents by various obstructive tactics. For we were carrying
our view in a full senate, in spite of the multifarious devices and inveterate
jealousy of those who were for transferring the cause of the king from you
to some one else. That day we found Curio very bitterly opposed, Bibulus
much more fair, almost friendly even. Caninius and Cato declared that they
would not propose any law before the elections. By the lex Pupia, as you
know, no senate could be held before the 1st of February, nor in fact during
the whole of February,[448] unless the business of the legations were
finished or adjourned. However, the Roman people are generally of opinion
that the pretext of a trumped-up religious scruple has been introduced by
your jealous detractors, not so much to hinder you, as to prevent anyone
from wishing to go to Alexandria with a view of getting the command of an
army. However, everyone thinks that the senate has had a regard for your
position. For there is no one that is ignorant of the fact that it was all the
doing of your opponents that no division took place: and if they, under the
pretext of a regard for the people, but really from the most unprincipled
villainy, attempt to carry anything, I have taken very good care that they
shall not be able to do so without violating the auspices or the laws, or, in
fact, without absolute violence. I don't think I need write a word either
about my own zeal or the injurious proceedings of certain persons. For why
should I make any display myself—since, if I were even to shed my blood
in defence of your position, I should think that I had not covered a tithe of
your services to me? Or why complain of the injurious conduct of others,
which I cannot do without the deepest pain? I cannot at all pledge myself to

you as to the effect of open violence, especially with such feeble
magistrates; but, open violence out of the question, I can assure you that
you will retain your high position, if the warmest affections both of the
senate and the Roman people can secure it to you.

XCVII (f i, 5)
TO P. LENTULUS SPINTHER (IN CILICIA)

Rome, February

Though the first wish of my heart is that my warmest gratitude to b.c. 56,
you should be recognized first of all by yourself and then by æt. 50
everybody else, yet I am deeply grieved that such a state of things
has followed your departure as to give you occasion, in your absence, to test
the loyalty and good disposition towards you both of myself and others.
That you see and feel that men are shewing the same loyalty in maintaining
your position as I experienced in the matter of my restoration, I have
understood from your letter. Just when I was depending most securely on
my policy, zeal, activity and influence in the matter of the king, there was
suddenly sprung on us the abominable bill of Cato's,[449] to hamper all our
zeal and withdraw our thoughts from a lesser anxiety to a most serious
alarm. However, in a political upset of that kind, though there is nothing
that is not a source of terror yet the thing to be chiefly feared is treachery:
and Cato, at any rate, whatever happens, we have no hesitation in opposing.
As to the business of Alexandria and the cause of the king, I can only
promise you thus much, that I will to the utmost of my power satisfy both
you, who are absent, and your friends who are here. But I fear the king's
cause may either be snatched from our hands or abandoned altogether, and I
cannot easily make up my mind which of the two alternatives I would least
wish. But if the worst comes to the worst, there is a third alternative, which
is not wholly displeasing either to Selicius[450] or myself—namely, that we
should not let the matter drop, and yet should not allow the appointment, in
spite of our protests, to be transferred to the man to whom it is now
regarded as practically transferred.[451] We will take the utmost care not to
omit struggling for any point that it seems possible to maintain, and not to
present the appearance of defeat if we have in any case failed to maintain it.
You must shew your wisdom and greatness of mind by regarding your fame

and high position as resting on your virtue, your public services, and the
dignity of your character, and by believing that, if the perfidy of certain
individuals has deprived you of any of those honours which fortune has
lavished on you, it will be more injurious to them than to you. I never let
any opportunity slip either of acting or thinking for your interests. I avail
myself of the aid of Q. Selicius in everything: nor do I think that there is
any one of all your friends either shrewder, or more faithful, or more
attached to you.

XCIX (q fr ii, 2)
TO HIS BROTHER QUINTUS (IN SARDINIA)

Rome, 18 January

It was not from the multiplicity of business, though I am very b.c. 56,
much engaged, but from a slight inflammation of the eyes that I æt. 50
was induced to dictate this letter, and not, as is my usual habit,
write it with my own hand. And, to begin with, I wish to excuse myself to
you on the very point on which I accuse you. For no one up to now has
asked me "whether I have any commands for Sardinia"—I think you often
have people who say, "Have you any commands for Rome?" As to what you
have said in your letters to me about the debt of Lentulus and Sestius, I
have spoken with Cincius.[452] However the matter stands, it is not the
easiest in the world. But surely Sardinia must have some special property
for recalling one's memory of the past. For just as the famous Gracchus—as
augur—after arriving in that province remembered something that had
happened to him, when holding the elections in the Campus Martius, in
violation of the auspices, so you appear to me to have recalled at your ease
in Sardinia the design of Numisius and the debts due to Pomponius. As yet I
have made no purchase. Culleo's auction has taken place: there was no
purchaser for his Tusculan property. If very favourable terms were to be
offered, I should perhaps not let it slip. About your building I do not fail to
press Cyrus.[453] I hope he will do his duty. But everything goes on
somewhat slowly, owing to the prospect of that madman's ædileship.[454]
For it seems that the legislative assembly will take place without delay: it
has been fixed for the 20th of January. However, I would not have you
uneasy. Every precaution shall be taken by me. In regard to the Alexandrine
king, a decree of the senate was passed declaring it dangerous to the
Republic that he should be restored "with a host." The point remaining to be
decided in the senate being whether Lentulus or Pompey should restore
him, Lentulus seemed on the point of carrying the day. In that matter I did

justice to my obligations to Lentulus marvellously well, while at the same
time splendidly gratifying Pompey's wishes: but the detractors of Lentulus
contrived to talk the matter out by obstructive speeches. Then followed the
comitial days, on which a meeting of the senate was impossible. What the
villainy of the tribunes is going to accomplish I cannot guess; I suspect,
however, that Caninius will carry his bill by violence.[455] In this business I
cannot make out what Pompey really wishes. What his entourage desire
everybody sees. Those who are financing the king are openly advancing
sums of money against Lentulus. There seems no doubt that the commission
has been taken out of Lentulus's hands, to my very great regret, although he
has done many things for which I might, if it were not for superior
considerations, be justly angry with him. I hope, if it is consistent with your
interests, that you will embark as soon as possible, when the weather is fair
and settled, and come to me. For there are countless things, in regard to
which I miss you daily in every possible way. Your family and my own are
well.
18 January.

C (a iv, 4 a)
TO ATTICUS (RETURNING FROM EPIRUS)

Rome, 28 January

I was charmed to see Cincius when he called on me on the 28th of b.c. 56,
January before daybreak. For he told me that you were in Italy and æt. 50
that he was sending slaves to you. I did not like them to go
without a letter from me; not that I had anything to say to you, especially as
you are all but here, but that I might express merely this one thing—that
your arrival is most delightful and most ardently wished for by me.
Wherefore fly to us with the full assurance that your affection for me is
fully reciprocated. The rest shall be reserved for our meeting. I write in
great haste. The day you arrive, mind, you and your party are to dine with
me.

CI (q fr ii, 3)
TO HIS BROTHER QUINTUS (IN SARDINIA)

Rome, 12 February

I have already told you the earlier proceedings; now let me b.c. 56,
describe what was done afterwards. The legations were postponed æt. 50
from the 1st of February to the 13th. On the former day our
business was not brought to a settlement. On the 2nd of February Milo
appeared for trial. Pompey came to support him. Marcellus spoke on being
called upon by me.[456] We came off with flying colours. The case was
adjourned to the 7th. Meanwhile (in the senate), the legations having been
postponed to the 13th, the business of allotting the quæstors and furnishing
the outfit of the prætors was brought before the house. But nothing was
done, because many speeches were interposed denouncing the state of the
Republic. Gaius Cato published his bill for the recall of Lentulus, whose
son thereupon put on mourning. On the 7th Milo appeared. Pompey spoke,
or rather wished to speak. For as soon as he got up Clodius's ruffians raised
a shout, and throughout his whole speech he was interrupted, not only by
hostile cries, but by personal abuse and insulting remarks. However, when
he had finished his speech—for he shewed great courage in these
circumstances, he was not cowed, he said all he had to say, and at times had
by his commanding presence even secured silence for his words—well,
when he had finished, up got Clodius. Our party received him with such a
shout—for they had determined to pay him out—that he lost all presence of
mind, power of speech, or control over his countenance. This went on up to
two o'clock—Pompey having finished his speech at noon—and every kind
of abuse, and finally epigrams of the most outspoken indecency were
uttered against Clodius and Clodia. Mad and livid with rage Clodius, in the
very midst of the shouting, kept putting the questions to his claque: "Who
was it who was starving the commons to death?" His ruffians answered,
"Pompey." "Who wanted to be sent to Alexandria?" They answered,
"Pompey." "Who did they wish to go?" They answered, "Crassus." The

latter was present at the time with no friendly feelings to Milo. About three
o'clock, as though at a given signal, the Clodians began spitting at our men.
There was an outburst of rage. They began a movement for forcing us from
our ground. Our men charged: his ruffians turned tail. Clodius was pushed
off the rostra: and then we too made our escape for fear of mischief in the
riot. The senate was summoned into the Curia: Pompey went home.
However, I did not myself enter the senate-house, lest I should be obliged
either to refrain from speaking on matters of such gravity, or in defending
Pompey (for he was being attacked by Bibulus, Curio, Favonius, and
Servilius the younger) should give offence to the loyalists. The business
was adjourned to the next day. Clodius fixed the Quirinalia (17 of February)
for his prosecution. On the 8th the senate met in the temple of Apollo, that
Pompey might attend. Pompey made an impressive speech. That day
nothing was concluded. On the 9th in the temple of Apollo a decree passed
the senate "that what had taken place on the 7th of February was
treasonable." On this day Cato warmly inveighed against Pompey, and
throughout his speech arraigned him as though he were at the bar. He said a
great deal about me, to my disgust, though it was in very laudatory terms.
When he attacked Pompey's perfidy to me, he was listened to in profound
silence on the part of my enemies. Pompey answered him boldly with a
palpable allusion to Crassus, and said outright that "he would take better
precautions to protect his life than Africanus had done, whom C. Carbo had
assassinated."[457] Accordingly, important events appear to me to be in the
wind. For Pompey understands what is going on, and imparts to me that
plots are being formed against his life, that Gaius Cato is being supported
by Crassus, that money is being supplied to Clodius, that both are backed
by Crassus and Curio, as well as by Bibulus and his other detractors: that he
must take extraordinary precautions to prevent being overpowered by that
demagogue—with a people all but wholly alienated, a nobility hostile, a
senate ill-affected, and the younger men corrupt. So he is making his
preparations and summoning men from the country. On his part, Clodius is
rallying his gangs: a body of men is being got together for the Quirinalia.
For that occasion we are considerably in a majority, owing to the forces
brought up by Pompey himself: and a large contingent is expected from
Picenum and Gallia, to enable us to throw out Cato's bills also about Milo
and Lentulus.

On the 10th of February an indictment was lodged against Sestius for
bribery by the informer Cn. Nerius, of the Pupinian tribe, and on the same
day by a certain M. Tullius for riot.[458] He was ill. I went at once, as I was
bound to do, to his house, and put myself wholly at his service: and that was
more than people expected, who thought that I had good cause for being
angry with him. The result is that my extreme kindness and grateful
disposition are made manifest both to Sestius himself and to all the world,
and I shall be as good as my word. But this same informer Nerius also
named Cn. Lentulus Vatia and C. Cornelius to the commissioners.[459] On
the same day a decree passed the senate "that political clubs and
associations should be broken up, and that a law in regard to them should be
brought in, enacting that those who did not break off from them should be
liable to the same penalty as those convicted of riot."

On the 11th of February I spoke in defence of Bestia[460] on a charge of
bribery before the prætor Cn. Domitius,[461] in the middle of the forum and
in a very crowded court; and in the course of my speech I came to the
incident of Sestius, after receiving many wounds in the temple of Castor,
having been preserved by the aid of Bestia. Here I took occasion to pave the
way beforehand for a refutation of the charges which are being got up
against Sestius, and I passed a well-deserved encomium upon him with the
cordial approval of everybody. He was himself very much delighted with it.
I tell you this because you have often advised me in your letters to retain the
friendship of Sestius. I am writing this on the 12th of February before
daybreak: the day on which I am to dine with Pomponius on the occasion of
his wedding.
Our position in other respects is such as you used to cheer my despondency
by telling me it would be—one of great dignity and popularity: this is a
return to old times for you and me effected, my brother, by your patience,
high character, loyalty, and, I may also add, your conciliatory manners. The
house of Licinius, near the grove of Piso,[462] has been taken for you. But,
as I hope, in a few months' time, after the 1st of July, you will move into
your own. Some excellent tenants, the Lamiæ, have taken your house in
Carinæ.[463] I have received no letter from you since the one dated Olbia. I
am anxious to hear how you are and what you find to amuse you, but above
all to see you yourself as soon as possible. Take care of your health, my

dear brother, and though it is winter time, yet reflect that after all it is
Sardinia that you are in.[464]
15 February.

CII (f i, 5 b)
TO P. LENTULUS SPINTHER (IN CILICIA)

Rome (February)

What is being done and has been done here I imagine you know b.c. 56,
from letters of numerous correspondents and from messengers: æt. 50
but what are still matters for conjecture, and seem likely to take
place, I think I ought to write and tell you. After Pompey had been roughly
treated with shouts and insulting remarks, while speaking before the people
on the 7th of February in defence of Milo, and had been accused in the
senate by Cato in exceedingly harsh and bitter terms amidst profound
silence, he appeared to me to be very much upset in his mind. Accordingly,
he seems to me to have quite given up any idea of the Alexandrine business
—which, as far as we are concerned, remains exactly where it was, for the
senate has taken nothing from you except what, owing to the same religious
difficulty, cannot be granted to anyone else. My hope and my earnest
endeavour now is that the king, when he understands that he cannot obtain
what he had in his mind—restoration by Pompey—and that, unless restored
by you, he will be abandoned, and neglected, should pay you a visit.[465]
This he will do without any hesitation, if Pompey gives the least hint of his
approval. But you know that man's deliberate ways and obstinate reserve.
However, I will omit nothing that may contribute to that result. The other
injurious proceedings instituted by Cato I shall, I hope, have no difficulty in
resisting. I perceive that none of the consulars are friendly to you except
Hortensius and Lucullus; the rest are either hostile, without openly shewing
it, or undisguisedly incensed. Keep a brave and high spirit, and feel
confident that the result will be to utterly repulse the attack of a most
contemptible fellow, and to retain your high position and fame.

CIII (f i, 6)
TO P. LENTULUS SPINTHER (IN CILICIA)

Rome (February)

What is going on you will learn from Pollio,[466] who not only was b.c. 56,
engaged in all the transactions, but was the leader in them. In my æt. 50
own deep distress, occasioned by the course your business has
taken,[467] I am chiefly consoled by the hope which makes me strongly
suspect that the dishonest practices of men will be defeated both by the
measures of your friends and by mere lapse of time, which must have a
tendency to weaken the plans of your enemies and of traitors. In the second
place, I derive a ready consolation from the memory of my own dangers, of
which I see a reflexion in your fortunes. For though your position is
attacked in a less important particular than that which brought mine to the
ground, yet the analogy is so strong, that I trust you will pardon me if I am
not frightened at what you did not yourself consider ought to cause alarm.
But shew yourself the man I have known you to be, to use a Greek
expression, "since your nails were soft."[468] The injurious conduct of men
will, believe me, only make your greatness more conspicuous. Expect from
me the greatest zeal and devotion in everything: I will not falsify your
expectation.

CIV (q fr ii, 4 and part of 6)
TO HIS BROTHER QUINTUS (IN SARDINIA)

Rome, March

Our friend Sestius was acquitted on the 11th of March, and, what b.c. 56,
was of great importance to the Republic—that there should be no æt. 50
appearance of difference of opinion in a case of that sort—was
acquitted unanimously. As to what I had often gathered from your letters,
that you were anxious about—that I should not leave any loophole for
abuse to an unfriendly critic on the score of my being ungrateful, if I did not
treat with the utmost indulgence his occasional wrong-headedness—let me
tell you that in this trial I established my character for being the most
grateful of men. For in conducting the defence I satisfied in the fullest
manner possible a man of difficult temper, and, what he above all things
desired, I cut up Vatinius (by whom he was being openly attacked) just as I
pleased, with the applause of gods and men. And, farther, when our friend
Paullus[469] was brought forward as a witness against Sestius, he affirmed
that he would lay an information against Vatinius[470] if Licinius Macer
hesitated to do so, and Macer, rising from Sestius's benches, declared that
he would not fail. Need I say more? That impudent swaggering fellow
Vatinius was overwhelmed with confusion and thoroughly discredited.
That most excellent boy, your son Quintus, is getting on splendidly with his
education. I notice this the more because Tyrannio[471] gives his lessons in
my house. The building of both your house and mine is being pushed on
energetically. I have caused half the money to be paid to your contractor. I
hope before winter we may be under the same roof. As to our Tullia, who,
by Hercules, is very warmly attached to you, I hope I have settled her
engagement with Crassipes.[472] There are two days after the Latin festival
which are barred by religion.[473] Otherwise the festival of Iuppiter Latiaris
has come to an end.

The affluence which you often mention I feel the want of to a certain extent;
but while I welcome it if it comes to me, I am not exactly beating the covert
for it.[474] I am building in three places, and am patching up my other
houses. I live somewhat more lavishly than I used to do. I am obliged to do
so. If I had you with me I should give the builders full swing for a while.
[475]
But this too (as I hope) we shall shortly talk over together.
The state of affairs at Rome is this: Lentulus Marcellinus is splendid as
consul, and his colleague does not put any difficulty in his way: he is so
good, I repeat, that I have never seen a better. He deprived them of all the
comitial days; for even the Latin festival is being repeated,[476] nor were
thanksgiving days wanting.[477] In this way the passing of most
mischievous laws is prevented, especially that of Cato,[478] on whom,
however, our friend Milo played a very pretty trick. For that defender of the
employment of gladiators and beast-fighters had bought some beast-fighters
from Cosconius and Pomponius, and had never appeared in public without
them in their full armour. He could not afford to maintain them, and
accordingly had great difficulty in keeping them together. Milo found this
out. He commissioned an individual, with whom he was not intimate, to
buy this troop from Cato without exciting his suspicion. As soon as it had
been removed, Racilius—at this time quite the only real tribune—revealed
the truth, acknowledged that the men had been purchased for himself—for
this is what they had agreed—and put up a notice that he intended to sell
"Cato's troop." This notice caused much laughter. Accordingly, Lentulus has
prevented Cato from going on with his laws, and also those who published
bills of a monstrous description about Cæsar, with no tribune to veto them.
Caninius's proposal, indeed, about Pompey has died a natural death. For it
is not approved of in itself, and our friend Pompey is also spoken of with
great severity for the breach of his friendship with Publius Lentulus. He is
not the man he was. The fact is that to the lowest dregs of the populace his
support of Milo gives some offence, while the aristocrats are dissatisfied
with much that he omits to do, and find fault with much that he does. This is
the only point, however, in which I am not pleased with Marcellinus—that
he handles him too roughly. Yet in this he is not going counter to the wishes
of the senate: consequently I am the more glad to withdraw from the senate-
house and from politics altogether. In the courts I have the same position as
I ever had: never was my house more crowded. One untoward circumstance

has occurred owing to Milo's rashness—the acquittal of Sext. Clodius[479]—
whose prosecution at this particular time, and by a weak set of accusers,
was against my advice. In a most corrupt panel his conviction failed by only
three votes. Consequently the people clamour for a fresh trial, and he must
surely be brought back into court. For people will not put up with it, and
seeing that, though pleading before a panel of his own kidney, he was all
but condemned, they look upon him as practically condemned. Even in this
matter the unpopularity of Pompey was an obstacle in our path. For the
votes of the senators were largely in his favour, those of the knights were
equally divided, while the tribuni ærarii voted for his condemnation. But
for this contretemps I am consoled by the daily condemnations of my
enemies, among whom, to my great delight, Servius[480] got upon the rocks:
the rest are utterly done for. Gaius Cato declared in public meeting that he
would not allow the elections to be held, if he were deprived of the days for
doing business with the people. Appius has not yet returned from his visit to
Cæsar. I am looking forward with extraordinary eagerness to a letter from
you. Although I know the sea is still closed, yet they tell me that certain
persons have, nevertheless, arrived from Olbia full of your praises, and
declaring you to be very highly thought of in the province. They said also
that these persons reported that you intended to cross as soon as navigation
became possible. That is what I desire: but although it is yourself, of course,
that I most look forward to, yet meanwhile I long for a letter. Farewell, my
dear brother.

CV (q fr ii, 5 and parts of 6 and 7)
TO HIS BROTHER QUINTUS (IN SARDINIA)

Rome, 8 April

I have already sent you a letter containing the information of my b.c. 56,
daughter Tullia having been betrothed to Crassipes on the 4th of æt. 50
April, and other intelligence public and private. The following are
the events since then. On the 5th of April, by a decree of the senate, a sum
of money amounting to 40,000 sestertia (about £320,000) was voted to
Pompey for the business of the corn-supply. But on the same day there was
a vehement debate on the Campanian land, the senators making almost as
much noise as a public meeting. The shortness of money and the high price
of corn increased the exasperation. Nor will I omit the following: the
members of the colleges of the Capitolini and the Mercuriales[481] expelled
from their society a Roman knight named M. Furius Flaccus, a man of bad
character: the expulsion took place when he was at the meeting, and though
he threw himself at the feet of each member.
On the 6th of April, the eve of my departure from town, I gave a betrothal
party to Crassipes. That excellent boy, your and my Quintus, was not at the
banquet owing to a very slight indisposition. On the 7th of April I visited
Quintus and found him quite restored. He talked a good deal and with great
feeling about the quarrels between our wives. What need I say more?
Nothing could have been pleasanter. Pomponia, however, had some
complaints to make of you also: but of this when we meet. After leaving
your boy I went to the site of your house: the building was going on with a
large number of workmen. I urged the contractor Longilius to push on. He
assured me that he had every wish to satisfy us. The house will be splendid,
for it can be better seen now than we could judge from the plan: my own
house is also being built with despatch. On this day I dined with Crassipes.
After dinner I went in my sedan to visit Pompey at his suburban villa. I had
not been able to call on him in the daytime as he was away from home.