CCCXCI (A X, 8)
TO ATTICUS (AT ROME)
CUMAE, 2 MAY
THE state of affairs itself, as well as your
remark and my own observation, make it clear that
the time has come to put an end to our
correspondence on subjects which it would be
dangerous to have intercepted. But as my dear
Tullia keeps writing to me begging me to wait and
see how things go in Spain, and always adds that
this is your opinion also, and since I have
gathered this also from your own letter, I do not
think it out of place to write and tell you what I
think on that point. This advice of yours would be
prudent, as it seems to me, only if I intended to
shape my course of policy in accordance with the
result of the Spanish affair, which is impossible.
For it is inevitable either that
Caesar—what I should like
best—is driven from Spain, or that the
campaign there will be a protracted one, or (as he
seems to feel certain) that he gets Spain into his
hands. If he is driven out, how can I then join
Pompey with any grace or honour, when I should
think even Curio himself would desert to him? If,
again, the war is protracted, what am I to wait
for, and how long? The only alternative is, if we
are beaten in Spain, to keep quiet. My view is
quite the other way. For I think myself more bound
to abandon Caesar when he is victorious than when
he is beaten, and not more when his success is
still uncertain, than when he is
quite sure of it. 1 For, if Caesar
conquers, I foresee massacre, an attack on private
wealth, a recall of exiles, repudiation of debts,
promotion to office of the lowest dregs, and a
despotism intolerable, I don't say to any Roman,
but even to a Persian. Will it be possible for my
indignation to remain silent? Will my eyes be able
to endure the sight of myself delivering my vote
by the side of Gabinius—or, in fact, of
his being called on before me? Of your client
Sext. Clodius 2 in attendance? Of C. Ateius's client
Plaguleius? And so on with the whole list. But why
collect the names of my opponents, when I shall be
unable to see in the senate-house without pain my
friends whom I have defended, or to associate with
them without dishonour. 3 Nay, what if I
am not even sure that I shall be allowed to come?
His friends write me word that he is by no means
satisfied with my conduct in not having appeared
in the senate. Am I, nevertheless, to think about
making advances to him with a risk to myself,
after refusing to be united to him when it was to
my advantage? Besides, observe that the decision
of the whole controversy does not depend on Spain,
unless you really think that Pompey will throw
down his arms if that is lost! On the contrary,
his view is entirely that of Themistocles: for he
holds that the master of the sea must inevitably
be master of the empire. Accordingly, his object
has never been to retain Spain for its own sake:
the equipment of a fleet has always been his first
care. He will take to the sea, therefore, as soon
as the season permits, with an enormous fleet, and
will approach the shores of Italy: and what then
will be our position who remain there doing
nothing? It will be impossible for us to be any
longer neutral. Shall we resist the fleet then?
What could be a greater crime, or even so great?
In fact, what could be more ignominious? I did not
shrink from opposing Caesar when I was isolated:
shall I do so now with the support
of Pompey and the rest of the nobles? 4
If, however, putting the question of duty aside, I
must take account of danger: it is, if I do wrong,
that there is danger from these last, from him, if
I do right: nor in such miserable circumstances
can any policy be discovered so free from danger,
as to make me doubt that I should shun doing
disgracefully, when it is dangerous, what I should
have shunned doing, even had it been safe. "Not if
I had crossed the sea along with Pompey?" That was
impossible in any case: you have only to count the
days. But all the same—for let me
confess the truth (I do not even atttempt
concealment), supposing it possible—I
was mistaken in a point in which, perhaps, I ought
not to have been mistaken: I thought that there
would be a reconciliation, and in that case I did
not want to have Caesar incensed with me, while he
was friends with Pompey. 5 For I had learnt
to see how exactly alike they were. It was from
dread of this that I drifted into this waiting
policy. But now I have everything to gain by
hastening, everything to lose by delay. And,
nevertheless, my dear Atticus, there are auguries
also which incite me to action with a certain
hope, and no doubtful one, auguries not such as
our college derives from Attus, 6 hut
those of Plato on tyrants. 7 For I see
clearly that he can by no possibility keep his
position much longer without bringing on his own
collapse, even though we do not exert ourselves:
seeing that at the very heyday of his success, and
with the charm of novelty upon him, in six or
seven days, he brought upon himself the bitterest
hatred even of that needy and
reckless city rabble itself and had to drop so
quickly two of his assumptions—of
clemency in the case of Metellus, 8 of wealth in the
matter of the treasury. 9
Of what sort, again, will he find his confederates
or subordinates, whichever you please to call
them, if those are to rule provinces, of whom not
one could manage his own estate two months? I need
not enumerate all the points, which no one sees
more clearly than yourself. Still, put them before
your eyes: you will at once understand that this
despotism can scarcely last six months. If I turn
out to be mistaken in this, I will bear it, as
many most illustrious men, eminent in the state,
have borne it, unless you should actually think
that I prefer the fate of
Sardanapalus—to die in his own bed,
rather than in an exile, as was the fate of
Themistocles: who though he had been—in
the words of Thucydides 10 —" the best judge on the
shortest reflexion of the question of the moment,
and, in regard to the future, by much the
shrewdest at conjecturing what was to happen," yet
fell into misfortunes which he would have avoided,
if nothing had ever escaped him. Though he was a
man, as the same writer says, "who, however
obscure the subject, saw the better and the worse
course more clearly than anyone, yet did not see
how to avoid the jealousy of the Lacedaemonians,
nor of his own fellow citizens, nor what promise
to make to Artaxerxes. Nor would that night have
been so fatal to Africanus, 11 nor that day of Sulla's triumph so
disastrous to Gaius Marius, the craftiest of men,
if neither of them had ever been mistaken.
However, I encourage myself by that prophetic
utterance (of Plato) which I mentioned. I am not
deceived about it, nor will it happen otherwise.
Fall he must, either by the hands of his opponents
or by his own, who, indeed, is his own most dangerous enemy. I only hope it may
happen while we are still alive. Yet it is time
for us to be thinking of that continuous life of
the future, not of this brief span of our own.
12 But if anything happens to me before
that occurs, it will not have made much difference
to me whether I live to see it, or have seen it
long before. That being so, I must not allow
myself to submit to men, against whom the senate
armed me with authority "to see that the Republic
took no harm." All my
interests have been confided to you, though they
need no recommendation of mine, considering your
affection for me. Nor, by Hercules, can I hit upon
anything to write: for I am sitting waiting
"sailing orders." Yet I never felt more bound to
tell you anything than that none of all the
delightful services you have done has been more
grateful to my feelings, than your most delicate
and careful attentions to my Tullia. She has
herself been exceedingly charmed with
them—as I have been no less. What high
qualities she has shewn! How admirably she faces
the public disaster! How admirably her domestic
difficulties! What spirit she has displayed in the
matter of my departure! She loves me dearly, she
has the deepest sympathy with my
feelings—yet she will have me act
rightly and preserve my reputation. But don't let
me enlarge too much on this theme, lest I should
at this juncture rouse my own self-pity. If you
get any surer intelligence about Spain, or
anything else, pray write and tell me while I am
still in the country; and, perhaps, at the moment
of my departure I shall send you some
intelligence, the more so that Tullia thinks that
you are at present not thinking of leaving Italy.
I must put before Antony, as I did before Curio,
my wish to reside in Malta, and my determination
not to take part in this civil war. I only hope I
may find him as complaisant and good-natured to me
as I did Curio. He is said to be intending to come
to Misenum on the 2nd, that is, today: but he has
sent me a disagreeable letter in advance, of which
I inclose a copy. 13
CUMAE, 2 MAY