M. Tullius Cicero, Letters
Evelyn Shuckburgh, Evelyn S. Shuckburgh, Ed.

B.C. 49. Coss., C. Claudius, Marcellus, L. Cornelius Lentulus Crus.

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B.C. 49. Coss., C. Claudius, Marcellus, L. Cornelius Lentulus Crus.

In this year the Civil War began in earnest as soon as Caesar crossed the Rubicon. Directly the news arrived Pompey left Rome to gather soldiers stationed in winter quarters and on garrison duty in various parts of Italy, and Italy itself was portioned out into districts for defence under various magistrates and senators. But by the 18th of March Pompey had quitted Italy, never to return, with the two consuls and other magistrates; and before the end of the month Caesar had arrived at Rome, left it in charge of the praetor Lepidus, and Italy in charge of the tribune Antony, specially invested with praetorian powers, and had gone to besiege Marseilles and to fight Pompey's legates in Spain. Cicero, who had had the district of Capua assigned to him, had nothing left but to keep as quiet as he could in his country houses. But his conscience left him no peace until he had joined Pompey in Greece, though he was fully aware of the unsatisfactory nature of the party which had accompanied him there. After long hesitation, he at last made up his mind, early in June, to join Pompey's camp. After his arrival there we have no more letters this year.

CCC (F XVI, II)

CICERO and his son, Terentia, Tullia, Quintus and his son, send warm greetings to Tiro. Though I miss your ever-ready help at every turn yet it is not for my sake so much as for yours that I grieve at your illness. But now that the violence of your disease has abated so far as to become a quartan fever—for so Curius writes me word—I hope that with care you will soon become stronger. Only be sure-as becomes a man of your good sense—to think of nothing for the present except how to get well in the best possible way. I know how your regret at being absent worries you, but all difficulties will disappear, if you get well. I would not have you hurry, for fear of your suffering from sea-sickness in your weak state, and finding a winter voyage dangerous. I arrived at the city walls on the 4th of January. Nothing could be more complimentary than the procession that came out to meet me; but I found things in a blaze of civil discord, or rather civil war. I desired to find a cure for this, and, as I think, could have done so; but I was hindered by the passions of particular persons, for on both sides there are those who desire to fight. The long and short of it is that Caesar himself—once our friend— has sent the senate a menacing and offensive despatch, ¹ and is so insolent as to retain his army and province in spite of the senate, and my old friend Curio is backing him up. Farthermore, our friend Antonius and Q. Cassius, having been expelled from the house, though without any violence, left town with Curio to join Caesar, directly the senate had passed the decree ordering " consuls, praetors, tribunes, and us proconsuls to see that the Republic received no damage." ² Never has the state been in greater danger: never have disloyal citizens had a better prepared leader. On the whole, however, preparations are being pushed on with very great activity on our side also. This is being done by the influence and energy of our friend Pompey, who now, when it is too late, begins to fear Caesar. In spite of these exciting incidents, a full meeting of the senate clamoured for a triumph being granted me: but the consul Lentulus, in order to enhance his service to me, said that as soon as he had taken the measures necessary for the public safety, he would bring forward a motion on the subject. I do nothing in a spirit of selfish ambition, and consequently my influence is all the greater. Italy has been marked out into districts, shewing for what part each of us is to be responsible. I have taken Capua. That is all I wanted to tell you. Again and again I urge you to take care of your health, and to write to me as often as you have anyone to whom to give a letter. Good-bye, good-bye

12 January.

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CCCI (F V, 20)

I³ would have done my very best to meet you, if you had chosen to come to the place arranged. Wherefore, although from regard to my convenience you were unwilling to disturb me, I should wish you to believe that, if you had sent me word, I should have preferred your wish to my own convenience. In reply to your letter, I Should have been able to write to you on the details more conveniently, if my secretary, M. Tullius, had been with me. lie, I feel certain, at any rate in making up the accounts—I cannot speak of other things-did not knowingly do anything adverse to your interest or your reputation. And in the next place I can assure you that, if the old rule and ancient custom as to giving in accounts had been in force, I should never have given them in until I had first checked and made them up with you, as our close official connexion demanded. What I should have done outside Rome, had the old custom remained in force, that I did in the province, because, by the Julian law, it was necessary to leave accounts in the province and to give in a verbatim copy of them at the treasury. I did not do this with a view of forcing you to adopt my calculation; but I put a great confidence in you, and shall never be sorry that I did so. For I handed over my secretary to your entire control—of whom I now see that you entertain suspicions—and you joined your brother M. Mindius with him in the business. The accounts were made up, in my absence, under your eye, to which I did nothing whatever beyond reading them. When I received a copy from my secretary, I regarded it as received from your brother. If that was a compliment, I could not pay you a greater one: if it was an instance of confidence, I have shewn you almost more than I shewed myself: if my duty had been to see that nothing was entered in them that was not for your honour and advantage, there was no one to whom I could have intrusted them in preference to the man to whom I did do so. At any rate, I merely obeyed the law by depositing copies of the accounts made up and audited in two cities, Laodicea and Apamea, which I regarded as the two chief cities (for it had to be the chief cities). So then to this point my first reply is that, though for good and sufficient reasons I have made haste to give in the accounts at the treasury, yet I should have waited for you, had I not considered that depositing the accounts in the province was tantamount to giving them in at the treasury. ⁴

As to what you say of Volusius, that has nothing to do with the accounts. I have been advised by experts-among them by C Camillus, the best lawyer of the day and a very kind friend of mine— that the debt (the amount was not 3,000 sestertia, as you say, but 1,900) could not be transferred from Valerius to Volusius, and that the sureties of Valerius were liable. For a sum of money had been paid us in the name of Valerius as purchaser: the balance I entered in the accounts. ⁵ But your proposal robs me of the fruit of my liberality, of my activity, and even (what, after all, I do not much care about) of a moderate amount of good sense: of my liberality, because you prefer to suppose my legate and my prefect, Q. Lepta, to have been relieved from a most serious calamity by the good offices of my secretary rather than of myself, and that though they ought never to have been made liable: of my activity, because you suppose that in regard to so important a duty, I may say so grave a danger, I neither knew anything nor took any thought—that my secretary made any entry he chose without even going through the form of reading it over to me: of my good sense, because you think that an arrangement, which had been thought out by me with no little acuteness, had been practically not thought of at all. The fact of the matter is that the release of Volusius was my own design, and I also formed the plan for relieving the securities of Valerius and Tit. Marius himself from so heavy a loss. And this scheme has not only the approval of everybody, but their warm commendation, and, if you wish to know the real truth, I perceived that my secretary was the one person who did not like it. But it was my view that, so long as the People got its own, a good man should consult for the interests of so large a number-whether of friends or fellow citizens. As regards Lucceius, the arrangement Come to, at the suggestion of Pompey, was that the money should be deposited in a temple. I acknowledged that as having been done on my order. This money Pompey has employed, as Sestius did that deposited by you. But this, I am aware, does not affect you. I should have been sorry to have omitted to record your having deposited the money in the temple on my order, had not that sum been attested by records of the most solemn and precise nature— stating to whom it was paid, by what decree of the senate, and in virtue of what written order from you and from myself it had been handed over to P. Sestius. ⁶ Seeing that these facts had been put on record in so many ways, that a mistake in regard to them was impossible, I did not make an entry, which after all had no reference to you. However, I wish now I had made the entry, since I see that you regret its not having been done.

I quite agree as to your being obliged, as you Say, to enter this transaction, and your balance will not differ at all from mine by your doing so. You may add also, "on my authority," which, though I did not add it, I have no reason for denying, nor should deny, had there been any such reason, and had you declined to add it. Again, as to the sum of 900,000 sesterces: that, at any rate, was entered in accordance with your own or your brother's wishes. However, if there is any entry (for the posting of the public ledger is not Completed) which I can correct even now in my accounts, I must consider—since I have not taken advantage of the decree of the senate—what grace the laws allow me. ⁷ Anyhow, you were not bound to make the entry you have made in regard to the amount collected tally with my accounts, ⁸ unless I am mistaken-for there are others with more technical knowledge than myself. But pray do not doubt my doing everything that I think to be for your interests or in accordance with your wish, if I possibly can.

As to what you say about the list for good-service rewards, you must know that I have returned the names of my military tribunes and prefects, and the members of the staff—at least of my own staff. ⁹ In this matter, indeed, I made a mistake. I thought that the time allowed me for giving in their names was unlimited: I was afterwards in-formed that it had to be done within thirty days of handing in my accounts. I am very sorry that this list for good-service rewards was not reserved to enhance your credit rather than mine, since I have no promotion to work for. However, in regard to the centurions and the subalterns of the military tribunes, nothing has yet been done, for good-service rewards of that class have no time limit by law.

The last item is the 100,000 sesterces, in regard to which I remember receiving a letter from you from Myrina acknowledging the mistake to be not mine, but yours. The mistake—if mistake it was— appeared to have originated with your brother and Tullius. But since it could not be corrected—for I had already deposited my accounts and quitted my province—I believe I answered you as politely as the warmth of my feelings dictated and my financial outlook at the time allowed. ¹⁰ But I did not either then consider that I was bound by the polite tone of my letter, nor do I now think that I was bound to have regarded your letter about the 100 sestertia in the light in which men regard dunning letters received in times like these. At the same time you ought to take this into consideration. The whole sum of money legally coming to me I deposited with the publicani at Ephesus. It amounted to 2,200,000 sesterces (about £17,600). The whole of it has been appropriated by Pompey. Whether I submit to that with patience or the reverse, you at least ought to take the loss of 100 sestertia (about £800) with equanimity, and to reckon that just so much the less has come into your pocket from your own allowances or my liberality. But even if you had debited me with this 100 sestertia, yet your kindness and affection for me is such that you would not wish to distrain ¹¹ on me at such a time as this: for, however much I wished the money paid in cash, I have not the wherewithal. But regard this as a joke, just as I do what you said. However, as soon as Tullius comes back from the country, I will send him to you, if you think that will be any good. I have no reason for wishing this letter not to be torn up. ¹²

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CCCII (A VII, 10)

I have suddenly resolved to leave town before daybreak, to avoid all gazing and gossip, especially with my bay-decked lictors. ¹³ For the rest, I don't know, by heaven, what to do now or in the future: such is the agitation into which I am thrown by the infatuation of our party's most insane decision. But what counsel should I offer you, you whose advice I am myself anxious to receive? What plan our Gnaeus has adopted, or is adopting, I don't know: as yet he is cooped up in the towns and in a state of lethargy. If he makes a stand in Italy, we shall all be together: if he abandons it, I shall have to reconsider the matter. Up to now, unless I am out of my senses, his proceedings are all fatuous and rash. Yes, pray write to me frequently just anything that comes into your head.

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CCCIII (A VII, ii)

WHAT in the world does it mean? What is going on? I am quite in the dark. "We are in occupation of Cingulum," says some one; "we have lost Ancona." "Labienus has abandoned Caesar." Are we talking of an imperator of the Roman people, or of a Hannibal? Madman! Miserable wretch, that has never seen even a shadow of virtue! And he says that he is doing all this "to support his honour"! How can there be any "honour" where there is no moral right? Can it be morally right to have an army without commission from the state? To seize cities inhabited by one's fellow citizens, as a means of attacking one's own country? To be contriving abolition of debts, restoration of exiles, hundreds of other crimes “For royalty, the first of things divine?” ¹⁴ Let him keep his fortune, and welcome! By heaven, I would rather have one hour of basking in your free ¹⁵ sun than all the royalties of that kind in the world, or rather I would die a thousand times Sooner than once take an idea of that sort into my mind: "What if you should take the fancy?" say you. Well, everyone's wishes are free: but I regard the mere wish as a greater misfortune than the cross. There is one greater misfortune still—to attain such a wish. But enough of this. It is a kind of relief to philosophize thus much in the midst of such troubles. To return to our friend. In the name of fortune, what do you think of Pompey's plan? I mean in abandoning the city? For I am at a loss to explain it. Nothing, again, could be more irrational. Do you mean to abandon the city? Then you would have done the same if the Gauls were upon us. "The Republic," says he, "does not depend on brick and mortar." No, but it does depend on altars and hearths. "Themistocles did the same." Yes, for one city was incapable of resisting the flood of the whole East. But Pericles did not so act, about fifty years afterwards, for he abandoned everything except the walls. Our own country men in the old times held the citadel, though the rest of the city was taken: “ Such deeds of fame—so poets told—
Our fathers wrought in days of old.
” ¹⁶ On the other hand, I gather from the indignation aroused in the municipia, and the conversation of those whom I meet, that this plan is likely to prove successful in a way. There is an extraordinary outcry—I don't know what people are saying with you, but pray let me know—at the city being without magistrates or senate. In fact, there is a wonderfully strong feeling at Pompey's being in flight. Indeed, the point of view is quite changed: people are now for making no concessions to Caesar. Expound to me what all this means. My department is a very quiet one. For Pompey wishes me to be a kind of "president" of the whole of this Campanian seacoast, to superintend the levy, and hold the chief command. Accordingly, I meditate being continually on the move. I think you must see by this time what Caesar's aim, what the disposition of the people, and the general position of affairs are. Pray write and tell me about them, and that, too, as often as possible, since they are continually shifting. For I find relief both in writing to you and in reading your letters.

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CCCIV (A VII, 12)

As yet I have received only one letter from you dated the 19th, and in it you indicated that you had written another, which I have not received. But I beg you to write as often as possible, not only whatever you know or have been told, but also what you suspect, and above all what you think I ought to do or not to do. You ask me to be sure to let you know what Pompey is doing: I don't think he knows himself, certainly none of us do. I saw the consul Lentulus at Formiae on the 21st; I have seen Libo. Nothing but terror and uncertainty everywhere! Pompey is on the road to Larinum; for there are some cohorts there, as also at Luceria and Teanum, and in the rest of Apulia. After that nobody knows whether he means to make a stand anywhere, or to cross the sea. If he stays in Italy, I am afraid he cannot have a dependable army: but if he goes away, where I am to go or stay, or what I am to do, I don't know. For the man, whose "Phalarism" ¹⁷ you dread, will, I think, spare no form of brutality: nor will the suspension of business, nor the departure of senate and magistrates, nor the Closing of the treasury Cause him to pause. But all this, as you say, we shall know before long. Meanwhile, forgive my writing to you at such length and so often. For I find some relief in it, and at the same time want to draw a letter from you, and above all some advice as to what I am to do and how to conduct myself. Shall I commit myself wholly to this side? I am not deterred by the danger, but I am bursting with vexation. Such a want of all plan! so utterly opposed in every respect to my advice! Am I to procrastinate and trim, and then join the winning side, the party in power? "I dread to face the Trojans," ¹⁸ and I am held back from that course by the duty not only of a citizen, but also of a friend, though my resolution is often weakened by pity for my children. Do, therefore, though equally anxious yourself; write something to a man in this state of utter uncertainty, and especially what you think I ought to do in case of Pompey's quitting Italy. Manius Lepidus, for his part—for we have been together-draws the line at that, and so does L. Torquatus I am hampered, among many other things, by my lictors: I have never seen such a hopeless entanglement. Accordingly, I don't expect anything positive from you, but merely your present impression. In fact, I want to know what the precise difficulty in your mind is. It is all but certain that Labienus ¹⁹ has abandoned him. If it could only have been possible that on coming to Rome Labienus had found magistrates and a senate there, he would have been of eminent service to our cause.. For it would have been Clear that loyalty to the Republic had caused him to hold one who was his friend guilty of treason. This is clear even now, but of less practical advantage: for there is no one to be of advantage to, and I expect him to feel some dissatisfaction—unless perchance it is not true, after all, that he has abandoned Caesar. For myself; I am convinced that it is true. Pray, though you say you confine yourself to the limits of your own house, do give me a sketch of the City. Is Pompey missed? Is there any appearance of a feeling against Caesar? What, too, is your opinion as to Terentia and Tullia? Should they stay at Rome, or join me, or seek some place of safety? On this, and indeed on any other point, pray write to me, or rather keep on writing.

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CCCV (F XIV, 18)

TULLIUS to his wife, and her father to his dearest daughter, and Cicero to his mother and sister, send warm greetings. I think, my darlings, you should carefully consider and reconsider what to do, whether to stay at Rome, or to join me, or seek some place of safety. This is not a point for my consideration alone, but for yours also. What occurs to me is this: you may be safe at Rome under Dolabella's protection, and that Circumstance may prove serviceable to us in case of any violence or plunder Commencing. But, on the other hand, I am shaken in this idea by seeing that all the loyalists have left Rome and have the ladies of their families with them. Again, the district in which I now am consists of towns and estates also which are in my power, so you could be a good deal with me, and, if you quitted me, Could very conveniently stay in domains belonging to us. I cannot as yet quite make up my mind which of the two is the better course for you to take. Please observe for yourselves what other ladies of your rank are doing, and be careful not to be cut off from the power of leaving town when you do wish to do so. I would have you carefully consider it again and again with each other and with your friends. Tell Philotimus to secure the house with barricades and a watch. Also please organize a regular service of letter-carriers, so that I may hear something from you every day. Above all attend to your health, if you wish me to maintain mine.

Formiae, 22 January.

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CCCVI (A VII, 13 a)

As to the business of Vennonius, I agree with you. Labienus I regard as a "demigod." There has been no political stroke this long time past more brilliant. If he has done no other good, he has at least given him pain. But as a matter of fact, I do think that some good has been done to the cause. I am charmed also with Piso, whose judgment on his son-in-law I think will have weight. But you perceive the nature of the war. It is only a civil war in the sense that it has originated from the unscrupulous boldness of one unprincipled citizen, not as arising from a division of sentiment between the citizens generally. But that man is strong in the possession of an army, he commands the allegiance of many by the prospects he holds out and the promises he makes: nothing that anyone possesses is beyond the scope of his desires. To such a man as this the city has been abandoned, without any garrison to protect it, crammed with every kind of wealth. What would you not have to fear from the man who regards those temples and roofs, not as constituting his fatherland? but as objects for plunder? ²⁰ What his proceedings are going to be, and how they are to be put into any shape, without senate and without magistrates, I cannot tell. He will not be able to keep up even a pretence of constitutional action. For us, however-where shall we be able to raise our heads or when? How utterly incapable our general is you yourself observe, in having had no intelligence of the state of affairs even in Picenum: and how devoid of any plan of campaign, the facts are witness. For, to say nothing of other mistakes committed during the last ten years, could any terms be worse than such a flight? Nor, indeed, have I any idea what he is contemplating at this moment, though I never cease asking again and again by letter. Everyone agrees that he is in a state of abject alarm and agitation. Accordingly, as far as I can see, there is no garrison—to organize which he was kept at the city walls-nor any place where a garrison could be posted. His whole hope rests on the two legions somewhat treacherously retained, and almost to be regarded as belonging to another. ²¹ For as yet, indeed, those whom he is enlisting are men reluctant to serve and averse from fighting. While the time for making terms has been let slip. I do not see what is going to happen. At any rate we, or our leader, have allowed things to come to this pass, that, having left harbour without a rudder, we must let ourselves drift before the storm. So I hesitate as to what to do with my son and nephew: sometimes I think I had better despatch them to Greece. For Tullia and Terentia, again—when I see a vision of barbarians arriving in the city—I am filled with all kinds of alarm; but when I think of Dolabella, I breathe again somewhat. But pray consider what you think ought to be done: in the first place, with an eye to their safety—for I must regard their security as requiring to be considered in a different light from my own-secondly, with a view to popular opinion, that I may not be blamed for deciding that they should remain at Rome, when the loyalists generally are flying from it. Nay, even you and Peducaeus—for he has written to me—must take care what you' do. You are men of such shining characters, that the same line of conduct is expected from you as from the noblest citizens. But I can safely leave this to you, since it is to you that I look for advice for myself and my family. All I have to add is to ask you to find out, as far' as you can, what is going on, and to write me word of it, and—what I expect from you even more— tell me what you are yourself able to conjecture. "The best prophet," ²² you know. Pardon my running on like this: it is a relief to me when writing to you, and draws a letter from you.

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CCCVII (F XIV, 14)

TULLIUS to Terentia, her father to Tullia, his two sweethearts, and Cicero to his excellent mother and darling sister, send warm greetings. If you are well, we are so too. It is now for you to consider, and not for me only, what you must do. If Caesar means to come to Rome in a peaceable manlier, you can stay at home with safety for the present: but if in his madness he is going to give up the city to plunder, I fear Dolabella himself may not be able to protect us sufficiently. Besides, I am alarmed lest we should be cut off from you, so that when you do wish to leave town you may be prevented. There is one other thing, which you are in the best position to observe yourselves-are other ladies of your rank remaining in Rome? If not, it deserves consideration whether you can do so with propriety. As things stand at present indeed, always provided that I am allowed to hold this district, you will be able to stay with me or on one of our estates with the greatest comfort. There is another thing I am afraid of-a want of provisions in the city before long. On these points pray consult with Pomponius, with Camillus, with anybody you think right: above all don't be frightened. Labienus has made things better for us. Piso, too, is helpful in quitting the city and declaring his own son-in-law guilty of treason. Do you, dear hearts, write to me as often as possible, and tell me how you are and what is going on around you. Quintus and his son and Rufus send their love. Good-bye

23 January, Minturnae.

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CCCVIII (A VII, 13 b)

I didn't guess your riddle: it is more obscure than Plato's number. ²³ However, I have made it out now: you meant the Oppii of Velia by your succones (blood-suckers). ²⁴ I wavered about it a long time; but when I hit on the solution, the rest became clear and quite agreed with Terentia's total.

I saw L. Caesar ²⁵ at Minturnae early on the 23rd of January with his utterly absurd message—he is not a human being, but a broom with the binding off. I think Caesar himself must have acted with the purpose of throwing ridicule on the affair, in trusting a message on matters so important to such a man as this—unless, perchance, he never did intrust it, and the fellow has, without warrant, made use of some conversation which he picked up as a message. Labienus, a man of noble character in my opinion, arrived at Teanum on the 22nd. There he met Pompey and the consuls. What their conversation was, and what arrangement was come to, I will write and tell you when I know for certain. Pompey set off from Teanum in the direction of Larinum on the 23rd. He stopped that day at Venafrum. Labienus seems to have brought no little courage to our side. But I haven't yet anything to tell you from these parts: I expect rather to hear news from you—what intelligence from Caesar reaches Rome, how he takes Labienus's desertion, what Domitius is doing among the Marsi, Thermus at Iguvium, P. Attius at Cingulum; ²⁶ what the feeling of the city folk is, what your own conjecture as to the future: on all these points pray write frequently, and tell me what your opinion is about my ladies, and what you intend doing yourself. If I had been writing with my own hand, this letter would have been longer, but I dictated it owing to my eyes being inflamed.

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CCCIX (A VII, 14)

I WRITE this letter, though suffering from slight inflammation of the eyes, when on the point of quitting Cales for Capua. L. Caesar brought Caesar's message to Pompey on the 23rd, while the latter was at Teanum with the consuls. His proposal was accepted, but on condition of his withdrawing his garrisons from the towns which he had occupied outside his province. If he did this, they said in their answer that we would return to Rome and conclude the negotiation in the senate. ²⁷ I hope for the present we have peace: for he is not quite easy about his mad enterprise, nor our general as to the amount of his forces. Pompey has directed me to come to Capua and assist the levy, to which the Campanian settlers ²⁸ do not make a very eager response. Caesar's gladiators at Capua, about whom I gave you some incorrect information on the authority of a letter from A. Torquatus, Pompey has very adroitly distributed among the heads of families, two to each. ²⁹ There were 5,000 shields in the school: they were said to be contemplating breaking out. Pompey's measure was a very wise precaution for the safety of the state. As to our ladies, in whom I include your sister, pray consider whether they can stay at Rome with propriety, when other ladies of the same rank have left town. I have said this to them and to yourself in a previous letter. I would like you to urge upon them to leave the city, especially as I have properties on the sea-coast—now under my presidency—on which they might reside in tolerable comfort, considering all things. For if I get into any difficulty ³⁰ about my son-in-law, though I am not bound to be responsible for him, yet it is made worse by my women folk having remained in Rome longer than others. Please let me know what you and Sextus are thinking of doing as to leaving town, and what your opinion is on the whole situation. For my part, I never cease urging peace, which, however unfair, is better than the justest war in the world. But this is in the hands of fortune.

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CCCX (A VII, 15)

EVER since I left Rome I have not let a single day pass without sending you something by way of letter; not because I had anything particularly to write about, but in order that I might chat with you in my absence, than which—since I cannot do so face to face-nothing gives me greater pleasure. On arriving at Capua on the 25th—the day before I write this—I met the consuls and many members of the senate. All were anxious that Caesar should stand by his offer, with the addition of withdrawing his garrisons. Favonius alone disapproved of any conditions being imposed on us by him; but he was not listened to in the discussion. For even Cato himself now prefers slavery to fighting. However, he says that he wishes to be in the senate when the terms are debated, if Caesar can be induced to withdraw his garrisons. So he is not eager about going to Sicily—the very thing most wanted: but he does wish to be in the senate, where I fear he will only do mischief. Postumius, moreover, who was definitely named in the senatorial decree to go to Sicily at once and succeed Furfanius, says that he will not go without Cato, and thinks very highly of his own personal service and influence in the senate. Accordingly, this duty has fallen to Fannius. He is being sent in advance to Sicily with imperium. In our discussions a great variety of opinion is expressed. Most declare that Caesar will not abide by his offer, and say that these demands were only thrown in by him to prevent our making the necessary preparations for war. I, however, am of opinion that he will carry out the withdrawal of the garrisons. For he will have gained his point if he is elected consul, and gained it with less crime than that of his first step. But we must put up with the blow: for we are scandalously unprepared both in regard to soldiers and money. All the latter, indeed-not only private money in the city, but the public money in the treasury also—we have left for him. Pompey has started to join the Appian legions. ³¹ He has Labienus with him. I am anxious to hear what you think of these events. I am thinking of returning to Formiae at once.

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CCCXI (F XVI, 12)

How seriously my personal safety and that of all loyalists is imperilled, as well as that of the whole senate and Republic, you may judge from the fact that we have abandoned our town houses, and the very city itself, to plunder and conflagration. Matters have come to such a pitch that, unless some god or some accident intervenes, we cannot possibly be saved. For my part, ever since I arrived at the city, I have never ceased promoting in thought, word, and deed everything that made for peace: but a strange mad passion for fighting has inflamed not only the disloyal, but even those who are reckoned loyalists, though I loudly proclaim that nothing can be more lamentable than a civil war. Accordingly, when Caesar yielded to the promptings of what may be called downright insanity, and— forgetting his name and his honours—had successively occupied Ariminum, Pisaurum, Ancona, and Arretium, I left the city. On the wisdom or courage of such a step it is useless to argue. You see how we stand now. The upshot is, proposals are received from Caesar that Pompey should go to Spain: that the levies already completed and our garrisons should be disbanded: that he will hand over farther Gaul to Domitius, hither Gaul to Considius Nonianus (these are the men to whom these provinces have been allotted): that he will come to canvass for the consulship, and no longer demand that his candidature be admitted in his absence: that he will be in town as candidate for the legal three nundinae. ³² We accept the proposals, but on the condition that he withdraws his garrisons from the places he has occupied, so that a meeting of the senate may be held at Rome to discuss these same proposals in security. If he does this, there is hope of a peace—not a creditable one, for we accept terms from him, but anything is better than to be as we are. If; on the other hand, he declines to abide by his terms, everything is ready for war, but of a kind that he cannot possibly maintain-especially as he will have shirked terms proposed by himself—provided only that we cut him off from all power of approaching the city. This we hope can be done: for we are holding levies on a large scale, and we think that he is afraid, if he once begins a march upon the city, that he may lose the Gauls, both of which, with the exception of the Transpadani, are bitterly hostile to him: and on the side of Spain he has six legions and a large force of auxiliaries under Afranius and Petreius ³³ on his rear. If he persists in his madness it seems possible that he may be crushed—if it can only be done without losing Rome! He has, again, received a very severe blow in the fact that Titus Labienus, who occupied the most influential position in his army, has declined to be a partner in his crime. He has abandoned him and is with us, and many are said to intend doing the same. I as yet am president of the sea-coast from Formiae. I refused any more important function, that my letters and exhortations to peace might have greater influence with Caesar. If; however, war does break out, I see that I shall have to take command of a camp and a definite number of legions. I have another trouble in the fact that my son-in-law Dolabella is with Caesar.

I wished you to know these facts, but don't let them agitate you and retard your recovery. I have recommended you with great earnestness to Aulus Varro, whom I know to be warmly attached to me and very fond of you, asking him to interest himself in your health and your voyage, and generally to take you under his charge and look after you. I feel certain he will do all this, for he promised to do so, and spoke to me in the kindest manner. Pray, since you were unable to be with me at the time I most wanted your help and fidelity, do not hurry or allow yourself to embark upon a voyage while ill, or in bad weather. I shall never think you come late if you come well and strong. As yet I have seen no one who had seen you since M. Volusius, who handed me your letter. I don't wonder at this, for I don't think my letters either can reach you in such stormy weather. But do your best to recover, and, when you do recover, only sail when you can do so with safety. My son is at Formiae, Terentia and Tullia at Rome. Take care of yourself.

Capua, 27 January.

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CCCXII (A VII, 16)

I think all your letters have reached me, but the first batch was out of their proper order, the rest in the order in which they were sent by Terentia. About Caesar's message and the arrival of Labienus, and about the consuls' and Pompey's answer, I told you in the letter of the 26th of January from Capua, and I put a good deal more information into the same packet. At present we are in suspense on two points: first, what Caesar will do when he has received the answer intrusted to L. Caesar to take to him; and, secondly, what Pompey is doing now. The latter, indeed, writes me word that in a few days he will have a strong army, and leads me to hope that, if he makes his way into Picenum, we shall return to Rome. He has got Labienus with him, who has no doubt about the weakness of Caesar's forces; and Pompey is in much better spirits since his arrival. I have been ordered to Capua by the consuls on the 5th of February. I left Capua for Formiae on the 28th of January. On that day having received your letter at Cales about three o'clock in the afternoon, I am writing this on the spot. About Terentia and Tullia I agree with you, and I have written to tell them to apply to you. If they have not yet started, there is no occasion for their disturbing themselves until we see how affairs stand.

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CCCXIII (F XVI, 8)

I am very anxious about your health, for though those who come from you announce that your complaint is not dangerous though lingering, yet, consoling as that is, it involves the great anxiety of a prolonged absence from us of one whose usefulness and charm I appreciate by their loss. Yet though I long with my whole heart to see you, I still earnestly beg you not to trust yourself to so long a voyage and a winter journey, unless you are quite strong, and not to set sail at all without careful consideration. Even in houses and towns it is difficult to avoid cold when one is unwell, to say nothing of escaping the inclemency of the weather at sea and on the road. “Cold to the tender skin is deadliest foe,” ³⁴ says Euripides. I don't know what you think of him as an authority. I look upon his verses as so many solemn affidavits. If you love me, make sure of your recovery, and come to us well and strong as soon as possible. Love us all, and good-bye. The son of Quintus sends his regards.

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CCCXIV (A VII, 17)

YOUR letter is both welcome and delightful. I thought of sending the boys to Greece when there seemed an idea of Pompey's flying from Italy: for I should have made for Spain, which would not have been equally suitable for them. For yourself and Sextus, ³⁵ it seems to me that even now you may remain with propriety at Rome. For you are not at all bound to be my Pompey's friends. For no one ever did more to detract from the value of city property ! ³⁶ Do you see that I am absolutely joking? You ought now to know what answer L. Caesar is taking back from Pompey, and what sort of a letter he is conveying from him to Caesar: for they were drawn up and despatched with the express purpose of being exposed for public perusal. 'On this point I blamed Pompey in my own heart for having trusted our friend Sestius with the writing of a despatch so important and certain to come into everybody's hands, though he has a very good style of his own. Accordingly, I never read anything more "Sestian." ³⁷ Nevertheless, it is made quite clear from Pompey's despatch that nothing is denied to Caesar, and that all his demands are conceded to the full: he will be a sheer madman if he declines the very proposals which it required the most consummate impudence ever to have made! Pray, who are you to say, "If he goes to Spain," "if he dismisses the garrisons"? Nevertheless, the concession is being made: with less dignity, indeed, at this time of day— for it is after the Republic has actually been violated by him and its territory invaded-than if he had some time back obtained his demand to be reckoned a candidate; and yet I doubt his being content even with these concessions. For, after giving that message to L. Caesar, he ought, until he received the answer, to have somewhat relaxed his warlike movements, whereas he is said to be at this moment more active than ever. Trebatius, indeed, writes to say that on the 22nd of January he was asked by him to write to me, urging me to remain at the city walls: that I could not oblige him more. This was put at great length. I calculated by reckoning the days that, as soon as Caesar heard of my departure, he began to be anxious lest we should all leave town. Therefore I have no doubt he has written to Piso, and also to Servius. One thing I am surprised at, that he has not written to me himself; nor opened his communication with me through Dolabella or Caelius: not that I disdain a letter from Trebatius, whom I know to be singularly attached to me. I wrote back to Trebatius—for I wouldn't write to Caesar himself; as he had not written to me—pointing out how difficult that course was for me at such a time as this; that I was, however, at my own country seat and had not undertaken any levy or any active part in the affair. ³⁸ By this I shall abide, as long as there is any hope of peace. But if war really begins, I shall not be wanting to my duty or position, after despatching my boys to Greece. For I perceive that all Italy will be blazing with war. Such the mischief that is caused partly by disloyal, partly by jealous citizens! But how far this will go I shall learn within the next few days by his answer to mine. Then I will write to you at greater length, if there is going to be war: but if there is to be peace, or even a truce, I shall, I hope, see you in person. On the 2nd of February, on which I write this, I am expecting the ladies at my Formian house, whither I have returned from Capua. I had written to them on your advice to remain at Rome; but I hear that there is some increase of panic in the city. I mean to be at Capua on the 5th of February, in accordance with orders from the consuls. Whatever news reaches me here from Pompey I will let you know at once, and shall expect a letter from you as to what is going on at Rome.

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CCCXV (A VII, 18)

On the 2nd of February our ladies came to Formiae and reported to me your services to them replete with the most affectionate kindness. I wished them, till we knew whether we were to have a dishonourable peace or an unhappy war, to remain in my Formian villa, and our two boys with them. I myself, with my brother, am starting for Capua on the 3rd of February, on which I despatch this letter, to join the consuls, having been ordered to be there on the 5th. Pompey's answer is said to be popular and to have received the approbation of a public meeting. I thought that would be the ease. If Caesar refuses to accept that he will be entirely discredited: if he accepts it ! "Which, then, do you prefer?" you will say. I would have answered the question if I knew what our state of preparation was. It is reported here that Cassius ³⁹ has been driven from Ancona, and that city occupied by our men. If there is to be war, that will be an advantage. As for Caesar himself; say that, though he sent L. Caesar with a message as to making peace, he continues holding levies with the greatest activity, occupying posts, securing them with garrisons. What an unprincipled bandit! What a disgrace to the Republic, hardly to be outweighed by any relief from war! But let us cease anger, bow to circumstances, and accompany Pompey to Spain. It is the best of a bad job, since we failed to avert that man's second consulship from the state, even when we had the opportunity. ⁴⁰ But enough of this.

I forgot to write to you about Dionysius before; but I have come to the conclusion to wait till Caesar's answer is known, so that, if I return to the city, he should await me there, but, if there is any delay, I should summon him to join me. Of course I know what his duty will be in case I have to fly, and what will be the conduct becoming a man of learning and a friend: but I don't expect too much in this way from Greeks. However, if; as I hope will not be the case, I have to send for him, pray see that I am not troubling an unwilling man. Quintus is anxious to pay you his debt by drawing on Egnatius, and Egnatius is neither unwilling nor short of cash; but when the state of things is such that Quintus Titinius ⁴¹ —of whom we are seeing a good deal-declares that he has no money for personal expenses, and has yet announced to his debtors that they may go on with the same interest, and when L Ligur is said to have done the same, and when Quintus at this crisis has no cash in hand, and is neither able to get any from Egnatius nor to raise a new loan, ⁴² he is surprised that you do not take into consideration this general tightness of the money market. For my part, though I obey the pseudo-Hesiodic maxim, "Judge not," etc., ⁴³ especially in the case of yourself; whom I have never seen to act unreasonably, yet I am affected by his tale of woe. Whatever this amounts to, I thought you ought to know it.

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CCCXVI (A VII, 19)

I have nothing to tell you Why, I didn't even send you a letter which I composed last night. For it was full of hopeful expressions, because I had just been told of the spirit shewn at the public meeting, and was still in the belief that he would abide by the terms, especially as they were of his own proposing. But here, this 3rd of February, I have received in the morning a letter from you, one from Philotimus, another from Furnius, with one from Curio to Furnius, in which Curio ridicules the mission of L. Caesar. I think we are completely trapped, nor do I know what plan to adopt. But it isn't about myself that I am anxious: what to do about the boys is what puzzles me. However, as I write this I am on the point of starting for Capua, that I may have a better opportunity of ascertaining Pompey's position.

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CCCXVII (A VII, 20)

I have no choice but to be brief. I have given up all hope of peace, and as to war, our men are not stirring a finger. Don't, pray, suppose that our consuls care for anything less than that: though it was in hopes of hearing something and learning what preparations we were making that I came to meet them in a pelting rain on the 4th, according to orders. They, however, had not arrived, and were expected on the 5th-empty-handed and unprepared. Pompey, again, is said to be at Luceria, and on his way to join some cohorts of the Appian legions, ⁴⁴ which are far from being in a very satisfactory state. But he, they say, is hurrying along and is expected at Rome every hour, not to fight a battle—for who is there to fight with ?-but to prevent the flight from town. For myself; if it is to be in Italy—"if die I must," etc.! ⁴⁵ I don't ask your advice about that: but if it is to be outside Italy—what can I do? On the side of remaining there are the winter-season, my lictors, the improvidence and carelessness of our leaders: on the side of flight, my friendship for Pompey, the claims of the loyalist cause, the disgrace of having anything to do with a tyrant; as to whom it is uncertain whether he will copy Phalaris or Pisistratus. Pray unravel these perplexities for me, and help me with your advice, though I expect by this time you are in a warm corner yourself at Rome. However, do the best you can. If I learn anything fresh today, I will let you know. For the consuls will be here directly on the 5th, the date they fixed themselves. I shall look for a letter from you every day. But do answer this as soon as you can. I left the ladies and the two boys at Formiae.

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CCCXVIII (A VII, 21)

ABOUT our misfortunes you hear sooner than I: for they flow from Rome. As for anything good, there is none to be expected from this quarter. I arrived at Capua for the 5th of February, in accordance with the order of the consuls. Late on that day Lentulus arrived; the other consul had absolutely not come on the 7th. For I left Capua on that day and stayed at Cales. From that town I am sending this letter, before daybreak, on the 8th. What I ascertained while at Capua was that the consuls are no good: that no levy is being held anywhere. For the recruiting officers do not venture to shew their faces, with Caesar close at hand, and our leader, on the contrary, nowhere and doing nothing; nor do recruits give in their names. It is not goodwill to the cause, but hope that is wanting. As to our leader Gnaeus—what an inconceivably miserable spectacle! What a complete breakdown! No courage, no plan, no forces, no energy! I will pass over his most discreditable flight from the city, his abject speeches in the towns, his ignorance not only of his opponent's, but even of his own resources—but what do you think of this? On the 7th of February the tribune C. Cassius came with an order from him to the consuls that they should go to Rome, remove the money from the reserve treasury, ⁴⁶ and immediately quit the town. After leaving the City they are to return! Under what guard? They are to Come out of the City! Who is to give them leave to do so? The Consul (Lentulus) wrote back to say that Pompey must himself first make his way into Picenum. But the fact is, that district has already been entirely lost. No one knows that except myself, who have learnt it from a letter of Dolabella's. I have no manner of doubt but that Caesar is all but actually in Apulia, and our friend Gnaeus already on board ship. What I am to do is a great "problem," though it would have been no problem to me, had not everything been most disgracefully mismanaged, and without consulting me in any way; problem, however, it is, as to what it is my duty to do. Caesar himself urges me to promote peace. But his letter is dated before he began his violent proceedings. Dolabella and Caelius both say that he is well satisfied with my conduct. I am on the rack of perplexity. Assist me by your advice if you can, but all the same look after your own interests to the utmost of your power. In such a total upset I have nothing to say to you. I am looking for a letter from you.

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CCCXIX (A VII, 22)

I CAN see that there is not a foot of ground in Italy which is not in his power. About Pompey I know nothing, and I think he will be caught, unless he has already embarked. What incredible rapidity! Whereas our general's—but I cannot find fault with him without sorrow, for whom I am in an agony of anxiety. You have good reason for fearing a massacre: not that anything could be less in Caesar's interest, with a view to the permanency of his victory and supremacy, but I can see at whose bidding he is likely to act. To be safe, my opinion is that we must go. As to those Oppii ⁴⁷ of yours, I don't know what to advise. Do what seems to you to be best. You should speak to Philotimus, and besides, you will have Terentia on the 13th. But what am I to do? On what land or sea am I to follow a man, when I don't even know where he is? After all, how can I do so by land? And by sea— whither? Shall I surrender myself to Caesar then? Suppose I could do so with safety—and many advise it—could I with honour also? Assuredly not. Am I, again, to ask advice of you, as my custom is? There is no way out of the tangle. Still, if anything occurs to your mind, please write, and tell me also what you mean to do yourself.

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CCCXX (A VII, 23)

On the 9th of February, in the evening, I received a letter from Philotimus saying that "Domitius has a strong force; cohorts from Picenum, under Lentulus and Thermus, have effected a junction with Domitius's army; Caesar's advance can be stopped: he is himself afraid of that; the courage of the loyalists at Rome is raised; the disloyal are in dismay." For my part, I fear that these are dreams. However, Manius Lepidus, L. Torquatus, Gaius Cassius, who are staying with me at Formiae, are quite restored to life by Philotimus's letter. I, however, am afraid that the truer account is this: that we are all now practically captives; that Pompey is on the point of abandoning Italy, of whom, indeed (what a bitter pill to swallow'.), Caesar is said to be actually in pursuit. Caesar pursue Pompey? What, to kill him? Merciful heavens! and don't we rush as one man to throw our bodies in the way? You, too, must sigh at that! But what are we to do? We are utterly beaten, trapped and taken.

However, after reading Philotimus's letter, I changed my plan as to the ladies, whom, as I wrote you word, I intended sending back to Rome. It has occurred to my mind that it would give rise to much talk to the effect that I already shewed my opinion about the fortunes of the party, and that, regarding it as desperate, I had in this return of my ladies made a kind of first step towards my own return. As for myself, however, I agree with you that I should not commit myself to an indefinite and dangerous flight, by which I should do no good to the Republic or to Pompey, for whom I can die with as much cheerfulness as loyalty. I will remain, therefore. But to go on living——!

You ask what is going on here. The whole business of Capua, and the levy in this neighbourhood, are at a standstill. There is complete despair. Everybody is preparing to fly, unless some such incident occurs as Pompey effecting a junction of his forces with those of Domitius. But I think we shall know all about it in two or three days. I send you a copy of Caesar's letter to me; for you asked for it. Many have written to tell me that he is much pleased with me. I don't mind that, so long as I abstain—as I have as yet-from doing anything discreditable.

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CCCXXI (A VIII, 11 a)

QUINTUS FABIUS came to me on the 10th of February. He brings me word that L. Domitius, with twelve cohorts of his own and with fourteen brought to him by Vibullius, ⁴⁸ were on the march to join me: that his intention was to quit Corfinium on the 9th of February, that Gaius Hirrus with five cohorts was coming up behind him. ⁴⁹ My opinion is that you should join me at Luceria. For here I think you will be safest.

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CCCXXII (A VII, 24)

PHILOTIMUS's letter did not give me over much pleasure, but it did very much so to the people about here. Behold, the next day a letter to Cassius from Capua, sent by his friend Lucretius, announcing that Nigidius had arrived at Capua from Domitius, bringing the intelligence that Vibullius, with a small body of soldiers, was hastening from Picenum to join Pompey, that Caesar was marching rapidly at his heels, that Domitius had not three thousand men. I feel no doubt of Pompey being in full retreat—I only hope he may escape. I have given up the idea of flying, in accordance with your opinion.

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CCCXXIII (A VII, 25)

AFTER I had sent you a gloomy and, I fear, true letter about Lucretius's letter to Cassius, forwarded here from Capua, Cephalio arrived from you with one more cheerful in tone, but yet not very confident, as is usual with you. I can believe anything more easily than that Pompey—as you assert-has an army. ⁵⁰ Nobody brings such a report here, but rather everything opposite to my wishes. What a wretched anomaly! When he was in the wrong, he always got his way; now that he is eminently in the right, he fails entirely. How can I explain it, except by saying that he knew how to do the former—for it was not difficult—but not the latter. For to rule a free state in the right way was a difficult art! But I hourly expect full information, and then I will at once write you word.

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CCCXXIV (A VIII, 12 b)

LUCERIA (BETWEEN 10 AND 16 FEBRUARY) I am much surprised at not hearing from you, and that I am informed of public affairs by others rather than yourself. We cannot be on equal terms with our opponent if our army is scattered: with forces concentrated I hope we may be of service to the Republic and the common safety. Wherefore, as you had arranged-according to Vibullius's letter to me of the 9th of February—to start from Corfinium with your army and join me, I am at a loss to understand why you have changed your design. For the reason mentioned to me in Vibullius's despatch is quite inadequate—that you have delayed because you had received intelligence of Caesar having left Firmum and arrived at Castrum Truentinum. For the nearer the opponent begins to approach, the prompter ought you to have been in effecting a junction with me, before Caesar had the opportunity of preventing your march or throwing himself between us. Wherefore I once more earnestly entreat and exhort you, as I have not ceased in my former despatches to demand, that you should come to Luceria on the first day possible, before the forces, which Caesar has begun collecting, become concentrated in one spot, and so separate you from us. But if certain individuals are preventing your march, in order to preserve their own country seats, it is only fair that you should concede my request and be careful to send me the cohorts, which have arrived from Picenum and Camerinum, leaving all their property behind them.

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CCCXXV (A VII, 26)

No, my experience does not tally with yours, as you express it in the sentence beginning "As often as I begin to feel elated." The fact is that I am at this moment somewhat elated, and especially by letters from Rome respecting Domitius and the Picentine cohorts. Everything has become more cheerful in the course of the last two days. Accordingly, the flight for which I was preparing has been stopped. Caesar's threats, “If with tomorrow's light I find you here,” ⁵¹ are flouted. The report about Domitius is good, about Atranius splendid. Thank you for your most friendly advice to keep myself uncommitted as long as possible. You add that I should not give the impression of being too much inclined to the evil side: certainly I may possibly seem to be doing so. I refused to take a leading part in a Civil war, as long as negotiations for peace were going on, not because it was not a just one, but because former conduct of mine, which was much more fully justified, had done me harm. I was, of course, quite unwilling to have as my enemy a man to whom our own leader had offered a second consulship and a triumph —and in what high-flown terms! "In consideration of the extraordinary brilliancy of your achievements." I am well aware both of whom to be afraid and on what grounds. But if there is to be war, as I see there will be, I shall not fail to play my part.

As to the twenty sestertia, Terentia has answered you. I did not wish to trouble Dionysius as long as I thought that I should be on the move. However, I made no answer to your frequent remarks about his duty to me, because I expected day after day to be able to settle what was to be done. At present, as far as I can see, the boys are certain to pass the winter in my Formian villa. And I? I can't tell. For if there is war, I am resolved to be with Pompey. Whatever I learn for certain I will take care you know. I think there will be a most horrible war, unless, as you suggest, some Parthian incident ⁵² comes to the front.

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CCCXXVI (A VIII, 11 b)

M. CICERO, imperator, greets Gnaeus Magnus, proconsul. On the 15th of February I received your letter at Formiae, informing me that what had happened in Picenum was much more satisfactory than had been before reported to us; and I was glad to hear of the courage and activity of Vibullius. Up to this time, though I have continued living on this coast, of which I was put in command, yet I have kept a vessel in readiness. For the news that kept reaching me, and the anxious fears that I was entertaining, were of such a kind that I thought myself bound to follow any counsel you might give me. At present our hopes are stronger, thanks to your influence and policy. If you think that Tarracina and the sea-coast can be held, I am ready to remain in it, though there are no garrisons in the towns. There is, in fact, no one of senatorial rank in this part of the country except M. Eppius, whom I directed to remain at Minturnae, a man of vigilant and painstaking character. For that gallant and influential man, L. Torquatus, is not with me at Formiae: I think he has started to join you. Anyhow, according to your most recent directions, I went to Capua on the same day as you left Teanum Sidicinum: for you had expressed the wish that I should superintend operations there in conjunction with the praetor M. Considius. On my arrival in that town, I saw that Titus Ampius was holding a levy with the greatest energy, that Libo was taking over the men from him, who is also a man of very great energy and influence in that colony. I remained at Capua as long as the consuls did. I visited Capua a second time, in accordance with an order of the consuls, on the 5th of February. After staying there three days I returned to Formiae. At present I am ignorant of your designs and plan of campaign. If you think that this coast is to be held, which offers many advantages and is an important district, with illustrious citizens residing in it, and is capable, I think, of being held, there must be some one to command in it. But if everything is to be concentrated in one spot, I feel no hesitation about joining you at once. I wish for nothing more earnestly than that, and so I told you the day we quitted the city. For my part, I do not trouble myself about anyone's thinking that I have as yet been less active than I ought, so long as you do not think so: nevertheless, if, as I am convinced is the case, we have to fight, I feel confident of being able to justify myself to all the world. I have sent my connexion M. Tullius to you, to receive a letter, if you think it well to write to me.

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CCCXXVII (A VIII, I)

AFTER I had despatched a letter to you, I received one from Pompey. I would have sent you the letter itself; had not my brother's servant been in such a hurry to start. I will send it, therefore, tomorrow. The rest of it contained the operations in Picenum; about what Vibullius had written to him; about the levy held by Domitius—all of which are known to you, but yet were not so flourishing as Philotimus's letter had represented. But at the end of Pompey's letter there was a sentence in his own handwriting: "I am of opinion that you should come to Luceria; you will not be safer anywhere else." The interpretation I put on this is that he considers the towns in this district and the sea-coast as abandoned, nor am I surprised at a man, who has given up the head, having no regard for the other limbs. I wrote back at once and sent the letter by one of my establishment upon whom I could rely, saying that I did not want to know where I should be safest: if he wished me to come to Luceria for his own sake or for that of the Republic, I would come at once; and I urged him to keep a hold upon the seacoast, if he wished to be supplied with corn from the provinces. I see that it is no use my writing this. But as before in regard to keeping the city, so in regard to not abandoning Italy, I put my opinion on record. I perceive, indeed, that the plan is to concentrate all forces at Luceria, and even that not as a permanent centre, but that, if hard pressed, we are to abandon that also. You need not, therefore, be much surprised at my not being very enthusiastic about engaging in a cause, in which no provision has ever been sought for making peace or securing victory, but from the first for a discreditable and calamitous flight. I must go, to encounter any danger that chance may bring with those who are reputed to be loyalists, rather than be thought to disagree with loyalists. Yet I foresee that before long the city will be crammed with the "loyalists," that is, the fine gentlemen and men of property-crammed chock full, indeed, when these municipal towns have been abandoned. And I would be in their number if I had not these confounded lictors. Nor should I be dissatisfied to have as my companions Manius Lepidus, L. Volcatius, and Servius Sulpicius: not one of them is a greater fool than L. Domitius, nor more of a weathercock than Appius Claudius. The one person who makes me hesitate is Pompey, not from his personal importance, but for old sake's sake. For what weight can he have in this controversy? When we were all alarmed at Caesar, he, for his part, was devoted to him: now that he has begun to be alarmed at him, he thinks that everybody ought to be his enemy. However, I shall go to Luceria, and yet perhaps my arrival will not give him any satisfaction. For I shall not be able to conceal my disapproval of what has been done up to this time. If I could sleep I wouldn't have pestered you with such long letters. If you are similarly affected, pray pay me back in kind.

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CCCXXVIII (A VIII, 12 c)

LUCERIA, 16 FEBRUARY GNAEUS POMPRIUS, proconsul, salutes Lucius Domitius, proconsul. M. Calenius has brought me a despatch from you dated the 16th of February, in which you say that your intention is to watch Caesar, and, if he commences his march upon me by the coast road, to come to me with speed into Samnium; but that, if he spends time about the towns in your district, you wish to resist him in case of his approaching you. I think your plan is spirited and gallant; but I am compelled to be more solicitous as to whether we may not, if divided, be unequal to our opponent; since he has large forces and is likely soon to have larger. For a man of your foresight ought not to reckon how many cohorts Caesar has at this moment against you, but what amounts of infantry and cavalry he is likely to collect before long. This is proved in my eyes by a letter from Bussenius to me, in which he says—as I learn from other letters also—that Curio is drawing the garrisons in Umbria and Etruria together, and marching to join Caesar. Now if all these forces are combined, even suppose a detachment is sent to Alba, and another threatens you, and though Caesar should not offer battle, but should remain on the defensive in his own strongholds, you will still be at a stand, and will not be able, isolated with a force the size of yours, to offer a resistance to such vast numbers sufficient even to allow of your foraging for corn. Wherefore I strongly urge you to come here as soon as possible with your entire force. The consuls have decided to do so. I sent a message to you by M. Tuscilius to say that we must take care that the two legions should not, without the cohorts from Picenum, be allowed to come within sight of Caesar. ⁵³ Wherefore do not disturb yourself if you hear that I am making a backward movement, ⁵⁴ should Caesar chance to advance towards me: for I think I must by all means avoid being caught in the toils and prevented from stirring. For I cannot construct a camp owing to the season and the disposition of my soldiers, nor is it proper to call in the garrisons from all the towns, lest I should be left without a place of retreat. Accordingly, I have not mustered more than fourteen Cohorts at Luceria. The consuls are about to bring in all garrisons to me, or are going to Sicily. For I must either have an army sufficiently strong to make me feel sure of being able to break out, or hold districts of such a kind as to enable us to act on the defensive. At the present time we have neither, for Caesar has occupied a large part of Italy, and we have an army neither as well-appointed nor as large as he has. We must therefore be careful and look to the main interests of the Republic. I urge on you again and again to come to me at the earliest opportunity with your whole force. We may even now restore the fortunes of the state, if we conduct our operations in common: if we are divided we shall be weak. I am quite satisfied of this.

After I had written the above, Sicca brought me a despatch and message from you. You urged me to come to you: I do not think that I can do so, because I don't feel great confidence in these legions. ⁵⁵

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CCCXXIX (A VIII, 12 d)

I RECEIVED a despatch from you on the 17th of February, in which you say that Caesar has pitched his camp near Corfinium. What I thought and warned you of is now taking place, namely, that at present he would not give you battle, and yet would hem you in by concentrating all his forces, to prevent the road to me being open to you, and your being able to unite your troops, formed of the strongest loyalists, with the legions of whose fidelity we are doubtful. I am therefore all the more disturbed by your letter. For I am not sufficiently confident in the good disposition of the soldiers, whom I now have with me, to risk a battle involving the safety of the state, nor have the levies made by the consuls as yet come in. Wherefore do your best, if it is still by any means possible, to extricate yourself, and Come here as soon as you can, before our opponent is joined by all his forces. For it is neither possible for the new levies to arrive here quickly, nor, if they had arrived, can it escape your observation how impossible it is to trust men, who are not even acquainted with each other, against veteran legions. ⁵⁶

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CCCXXX (A VIII, 12 a)

GNAEUS MAGNUS, proconsul, greets the consuls, C. Marcellus and L. Lentulus. Being of opinion that if we were scattered we could neither be of service to the state, nor protect ourselves, I sent a despatch to L. Domitius that, if possible, he should join me with all his men, and that, if he felt doubtful about himself, he should send me the nineteen cohorts which were on the march to join me from Picenum. ⁵⁷ What I feared has taken place: Domitius is surrounded, and is not in sufficient force to form a camp, because he has my nineteen and his own twelve cohorts distributed among three towns— for he has stationed some at Alba and some at Sulmo—and he cannot now extricate himself even if he wished. In these circumstances I am, I can assure you, in extreme anxiety. I am eager to relieve men who are so numerous and of such high position ⁵⁸ from the danger of a siege, and yet I cannot go to their assistance, because I do not think that we can trust these two legions to go there —of whom, after all, I have not been able to keep together more than fourteen cohorts; for I have sent two to Brundisium, and I did not think that Canusium ought to be left in my absence without a garrison. I had told Decimus Laelius to suggest to you, as I hope for an increase to my numbers, that one of you should join me, the other go to Sicily with the force you have collected at Capua and the neighbourhood of Capua, and the soldiers whom Faustus has recruited: that Domitius with his own twelve cohorts should form a junction with the same, and that all other forces of every description should muster at Brundisium, and be shipped thence to Dyrrachium. But as it is, since at this juncture I cannot go, any more than you, to the relief of Domitius, he must extricate himself by crossing the mountains, and I must be careful not to allow the enemy to get near these fourteen cohorts, whose loyalty is doubtful, or to catch me up on the march. Wherefore I have determined—and I find that Marcellus and other senators who are here agree with me—to march the force I have with me to Brundisium. I urge you to collect all the troops that you can collect, and come to me at Brundisium also as promptly as possible. I think you should use the arms, which you were intending to send to me, to arm the soldiers whom you have with you: if you will have all arms that may be to spare carted to Brundisium, you will have done the state excellent service. Please let my men know about this. I have sent word to the praetors P. Lupus and C. Coponius, to join you and take whatever men they have to you.

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CCCXXXI (A VIII, 2)

THANK you all round-both for writing to tell me the remarks you had heard, and for not believing what reflected upon my energy, and, lastly, for letting me know your opinion. I wrote only one letter to Caesar from Capua in answer to the remonstrance he addressed to me on the subject of his gladiators. ⁵⁹ My letter was short but expressed in friendly terms. So far from containing any attack upon Pompey, it mentioned him in the most complimentary terms. This exactly corresponded with my sentiment in favour of his making terms with Pompey. If he has sent that letter anywhere, let him placard it for everyone to read with all my heart. I am writing a second letter to him on the same day as I write this to you. I cannot do otherwise than write, since he has written to me both by his own hand and by that of Balbus. I am sending you a copy of it. I don't think there is anything for you to find fault with. If there is, suggest how I am to escape criticism. "Don't write at all," you will say; "how better elude those who want to make up a story?" Well, I will follow your advice as long as it is possible. You exhort me to remember my deeds, words, and even my writings: it is truly friendly on your part, and I thank you warmly for it; but you appear to me to take a different view from mine as to what is right and suitable to my character in this controversy. For in my opinion nothing more discreditable was ever done in any nation by anyone professing to be a statesman and leader, than the course taken by our friend. I am sorry for him. He abandoned the city, that is, his country, for which, and in which, it would have been a glorious thing to die. You don't seem to me to appreciate the magnitude of this disaster: for you are at this moment in your own town house. Yes, but you cannot remain there any longer except by the consent of the vilest of men. Can anything be more humiliating, more shameful than that? We are wandering about in distress with wives and children. All our hopes are dependent on the life of one man, who has a dangerous illness every year. We are not expelled, but summoned from our country, which we have left not to be safe-guarded till our return, but to be plundered and fired. There are not so very many with me, ⁶⁰ nor in suburban houses, nor suburban parks, nor in the city itself—and if they are there now, they soon will not be. I meanwhile shall not stay even at Capua, but at Luceria, and shall, of course, abandon the care of the sea-coast at once. I shall wait to see what Afranius and Petreius do : ⁶¹ for Labienus lacks distinction. Here you will hint that that is just what you find lacking in me. I say nothing about myself. I will leave that to others. In these circumstances, indeed, where is it to be found? All you loyalists are sticking to your houses, and will do so. In the old times didn't every loyalist come forward to support me? Who does so now in this war, for so it must now be called? As yet Vibullius has covered himself with glory. You will learn all about that from Pompey's letter: in which please notice the passage at which you will find a mark of attention ( <

). You will see what Vibullius himself thinks about our friend Gnaeus. What, then, is the point of all this talk? Why, I am capable of dying cheerfully for Pompey: I value him more than anyone in the world. But, for all that, I do not think that all hope for the Republic is centred in him. You express an opinion also considerably different from your usual one, that I must even quit Italy if he does so: a step which, in my judgment, is of advantage neither to the Republic nor to my children, and, what is more, neither right nor morally justifiable. But why do you say, "Will you be able to endure the sight of a tyrant?" As though it mattered whether I heard of him or saw him; or as though I needed to look for any better precedent than that of Socrates, who at the time of the Thirty never set foot out of the city gate. I have personally also a special motive for remaining, concerning which I wish to heaven I might some time have a talk with you. After writing this on the 17th, by the same lamp as that in which I burnt your letter, I am leaving Formiae to join Pompey, with some prospect of being of use if there is any question of peace, but if it is to be war—what good shall I be?

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CCCXXXII (A VIII, 3)

A PREY to the gravest and most depressing anxieties, though I am precluded from discussing the question with you personally, I have, nevertheless, resolved to seek your advice. The whole question in debate is this: if Pompey quits Italy, which I suspect that he is about to do, what do you think I ought to do? To assist you in giving me advice, I will state briefly what occurs to my mind on either side. Pompey's very great services in securing my restoration and the intimacy existing between us, as well as the interests of the Republic themselves, lead me to the conclusion that my policy or, if you choose, my fortune must be united with his. Then there is this: if I stay here and desert that company of most loyal and illustrious citizens, I must come under the power of one man: and although he shews by many instances that he is well disposed to me—and you yourself know what precautions I took in that direction, because I suspected the storm that was hanging over our heads-yet I must look at the matter in two lights: first, how far I can trust him; and, secondly, however certain I may be that he will be my friend, whether it is the action of a brave man and a good citizen to remain in a city, in which, after having enjoyed the highest offices and commands, after having performed the most important services, and been invested with the most august priesthood, he is to become a mere name, ⁶² and to incur danger, not perchance unaccompanied by some disgrace, if Pompey ever restores the constitution. So much for that side. Now for the other. Our friend Pompey has shewn neither wisdom nor courage in anything that he has done: I may add that he has acted in every case against my counsel and advice. I put out of the question the old scores: how he fostered Caesar against the Republic, promoted, armed him; assisted him in the passing of laws by violence and against the auspices; supported the addition of farther Gaul to his provinces; married his daughter; acted as augur at the adoption of Publius Clodius; shewed greater zeal in effecting my recall than in preventing my exile; supported the extension of Caesar's provincial government; championed his cause at every point in his absence; actually in his third consulship, when he started being a defender of the constitution, yet urged the ten tribunes to propose the bill allowing Caesar's candidature in his absence; confirmed the same privilege in a certain law of his own, and resisted the consul Marcus Marcellus when he proposed to fix the end of Caesar's government on the 1st of March. ⁶³ Well, to pass over all this, what could be more discreditable, more ill-considered, than this departure from the city, or I should rather call it this most shameful, most unprincipled flight? What terms could there be that were not preferable to the abandonment of one's country? The terms offered were bad. I confess it: but could anything be worse than this? But (you say) he will recover the Republic. When? What preparation has been made for realizing that hope? Is not Picenum lost? Is not the road to the city laid open? Is not all money public and private, handed over to his opponent? In fact, there is no cause to support, no forces to support it, no rallying point for those who wish the constitution maintained. Apulia has been selected, the most sparsely peopled district of Italy, and the most widely removed from the point of attack in this war: it is evident that, from sheer desperation, the object in view is flight and the facilities of a sea-coast. I undertook Capua with reluctance, not because I desired to shirk that duty, but because it was in a cause in which there was no openly expressed grievance on the part of the orders in the state or of private individuals, though there was some-far from keen, as usual—on the part of the Optimates; and because, as I saw for myself, the multitude and the lowest of the people were inclined to the other side, while many were eager simply for change. I told Pompey himself that I would undertake no duty without a guard and money. Accordingly, I had practically nothing to do at all, because, from the first, I saw that his sole object was flight. If I am to follow that flight now, whither am I to go? Not with him; for when I started to join him, I learnt that Caesar was in such a position that I could not reach Luceria safely. ⁶⁴ I should have to sail by the Mare Inferum, without definite direction and in the worst possible weather. Again, am I to take my brother, or only my son without him, or how? Either alternative involves very great difficulty, and the keenest distress of mind. Again, what kind of attack will he employ against us and our property in our absence? Something more violent than in the case of others, for he will perhaps think that he has a chance of winning popularity by damaging us. Consider, again, these fetters—I mean my laurelled fasces—what a nuisance to carry them out of Italy! Moreover, what place, even suppose I enjoy a calm passage, will be safe for me till I reach Pompey? By what route, again, or whither to go, I have no idea.

If, on the other hand, I keep my ground and find some footing on this side, I shall have done what L. Philippus did during the tyranny of Cinna, as well as L. Flaccus and Q. Mucius. Though it turned out unhappily in the case of the latter, ⁶⁵ he used, nevertheless, to say that he foresaw the result (a result which did actually happen), but preferred it to approaching the walls of his native city in arms. Thrasybulus ⁶⁶ acted differently and perhaps better. But yet there are good grounds for Mucius's line of policy and opinion, as well as for that of the other, namely, to temporize, when necessary, and not to let slip an opportunity when it is given. But even if I adopt this course, those same fasces involve a difficulty. For suppose he is my friend, which is uncertain, but suppose he is, he will offer me the triumph. Not to accept I fear will get me into trouble with him, to accept I fear will appear scandalous to the loyalists. "What a difficult and insoluble problem !" you say. And yet I must solve it. For what can possibly be done else? Don't think me more inclined to remain, because I have used more words on that side. It may very well be, as happens in many investigations, that one side has the superiority in words, the other in truth. Wherefore please give me your advice, on the understanding that I am considering a most important matter with impartiality. There is a vessel at Caieta ready for me, and another at Brundisium. But here come couriers, as I am in the act of writing these words at Cales before daybreak: here comes a letter stating that Caesar has reached Corfinium, that Domitius is inside Corfinium with a strong force eager to fight. I can't believe that our friend Gnaeus will go so far as to abandon Domitius, though he has sent Scipio in advance to Brundisium with two cohorts, and has written to the consuls saying that he wishes the legion enrolled by Faustus to be taken to Sicily by a consul. But it will be shameful if Domitius is abandoned when imploring to be relieved. There is a certain hope, no great one in my mind, but warmly entertained in these parts, that Afranius has fought a battle with Trebonius in the Pyrenees; that Trebonius has been repulsed; that your friend Fadius ⁶⁷ also has come over with his cohorts. The chief hope, however, is that Afranius is on his way hither with large forces. If that is the case, we shall perhaps stay in Italy. However, since Caesar's line of march was uncertain, as he was thought to be intending to go either in the direction of Capua or Luceria, I am sending Lepta with a letter to Pompey, and am returning myself to Formiae to avoid falling in with anyone. I wished you to know this, and I am writing in a somewhat quieter frame of mind than I mentioned just Now: my object being not to put forward a judgment of my own, but to ask yours.

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CCCXXXIII (A VIII, 11 c)

IF you are well, I am glad. I was pleased to read your letter; for I recognized your old gallantry still in defending the public safety. The consuls have joined my army in Apulia. I strongly urge you, in the name of your unique and unbroken zeal for the service of the state, to join us also, that by our united counsels we may support and aid the violated Republic. My opinion is that you should travel by the Appian road, and come with all speed to Brundisium.

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CCCXXXIV (A VIII, 4)

DIONYSIUS, ⁶⁸ whom I look upon as your man rather than mine-for though I knew very well what his character was, I yet stood by your judgment rather than my own-without any respect even for your recommendation several times repeated in my hearing, has given himself airs in view of what he thinks will be the state of my fortune. The course of that fortune, however, as far as it can be affected by human wisdom, I shall pilot with a certain amount of skill. What honour, what consideration, what recommendation even to others (the contemptible fellow!) has he not had at my hands? Why, I even preferred to have my judgment attacked by my brother Quintus, and by the world in general, rather than not praise him to the skies: and that my young Ciceros should have some supplementary lessons from myself, rather than look out for another master for them. Good heavens! what a letter I wrote to him! what respect, what affection did it express! You would have said that it was an invitation addressed to a Dicaearchus or an Aristoxenus, not to the greatest windbag and worst teacher in the world. "But he has a good memory." He shall find I have a better! He answered my letter in a tone which I never used to anyone whose case I declined. I always used to say, "If I can," "If I am not prevented by a previous engagement": I never had a defendant so low, so mean, so clearly guilty, so utterly a stranger to myself, that I refused him with the abruptness which he has used without disguise or reserve to me. I never saw such gross ingratitude, a vice which embraces every other. But enough and to spare about him. I have a vessel ready: yet I wait for a letter from you, to know what answer it will contain to the case I put to you for advice. You are aware that at Sulmo Gaius Attius, the Paelignian, has opened the gates to Antony; though there were five cohorts there, and that Q. Lucretius has escaped from the town; ⁶⁹ that Gnaeus is on his way to Brundisium; that Domitius ⁷⁰ has been abandoned. It's all over.

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CCCXXXV (A VIII, 5)

HAVING written you a letter before daybreak of the 22nd about Dionysius, on the evening of the same day Dionysius himself arrived, induced by your influence, I suspect. For what else am I to think? However, it is his way to repent when he has done anything intemperate: and he never was more insane than in this business. For—a circumstance I did not mention to you before—I heard afterwards that at the third milestone from the city he took fright, after “Venting his horns' vain fury on the air,” ⁷¹ I mean, after uttering a number of curses, which, as the saying is, I hope may come home to roost! But see what a good-natured man I am! I put into the packet along with the letter to you one addressed to him, written with great warmth: this I should like returned to me, and for that sole reason I have sent my body-servant Pollix to Rome. I am therefore writing to you that, if it has by any chance been delivered to you, you would take care to have it sent back to me, lest it should come into his hands. If there had been any news I would have written it. I am in anxious suspense as to the affair at Corfinium, which will decide the fate of the Republic. Pray see that the packet addressed to Manius Curius is conveyed to him, and recommend Tiro to Curius, and ask him to supply him with any money he requires.

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CCCXXXVI (A VIII, 6)

When I had already sealed the letter to you which I intended to despatch over night, as I did—for it was written in the evening-C. Sosius, the praetor, came to Formiae on a visit to my neighbour Manius Lepidus, whose quaestor he once was. He brought me a copy of Pompey's letter to the consuls. “I have received a despatch from L. Domitius on the 17th of February. I append a copy. Now, without my saying a word, I know you understand of your own accord how important it is to the Republic that all troops should be concentrated in one place at the earliest possible time. Pray, if you think it right, make an effort to join me as early as possible, and leave a garrison for Capua of such strength as you may determine to be sufficient.”

Then he added a copy of Domitius's letter, which I sent yesterday. Good heavens! how I trembled with excitement! How anxious I am as to what is going to happen. Yet I do hope that Magnus will justify his name in the terror he inspires when he arrives. I have even some hope that, as carelessness and negligence have been our only stumbling block at present, operations will now be conducted with courage and due attention. ⁷²

One thing, by Hercules, has given me pleasure. I have recently heard that the quartan fever has left you. Upon my life, I could not have been more glad if it had happened to me. Tell Pilia that it is not fair for her to have her fever any longer; it is a reflexion on your perfect sympathy! I hear that Tiro has got rid of his second attack. But I see that he has raised money for his expenses from others; whereas I had asked Curius to supply him with what was necessary. I prefer to think Tiro's modesty in fault rather than the illiberality of Curius.

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CCCXXXVII (A VIII, 7)

There is only one thing left to complete our friend's disgrace-failure to relieve Domitius. "But nobody doubts that he intends going to his relief." I don't think he will. "Will he, then, abandon such an illustrious citizen, and those whom you know to be with him, and that when he himself has thirty cohorts?" Yes, he will, unless I am entirely mistaken. He has become alarmed beyond belief. He looks to nothing except flight; in which you think—for I see what your opinion is—that I ought to be his companion. I, however, know from whom to fly, but not whom to follow. As to my remark, which you praise and declare to be memorable, that I preferred defeat with Pompey to victory with those others, it is quite true: I do prefer it—but it is with the Pompey as he was then, or as I thought him. But with a Pompey who flies before he knows from whom he is flying, or whither, who has betrayed our party, who has abandoned his country, and is about to abandon Italy—if I did prefer it, I have got my wish: I am defeated. For the rest, I cannot stand the sight of what I never had any fear of seeing, nor of the man on whose account I have to give up not only my friends, but my own past. I have written to Philotimus about furnishing me with money for the journey, either from the Mint ⁷³ — for no one pays ready money now—or from your comrades the Oppii. ⁷⁴

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CCCXXXVIII (A VIII, 8)

What a disgraceful and, for that reason, what a miserable thing! For, in my opinion, that which is disgraceful is ultimately, or rather is alone, miserable. He had fostered Caesar, and then, all on a sudden, had begun to be afraid of him: he had declined any terms of peace: he had made no preparation for war: he had abandoned the city: he had lost Picenum by his own fault: he had blocked himself up in Apulia: he was preparing to go to Greece: he was going to leave us without a word, entirely uninformed of a move on his part so important and so unprecedented. Lo and behold, there is suddenly sprung on us a letter from Domitius to him, and one from him to the consuls. I thought honour had flashed before his eyes, and that he—the real man he ought to be—had exclaimed: “ So let them try each sleight they may against me,
And every craft their cunning can devise:
The right is on my side.
” ⁷⁵ But our hero, bidding a long good-bye to honour, takes himself to Brundisium, while Domitius, they say, and those with him, on hearing of this, surrendered. What a lamentable thing! Distress prevents my writing any more to you. I wait for a letter from you.

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CCCXXXIX (A VIII, 9)

YOU say my letter has been widely published: well, I don't care. Nay, I myself allowed several people to take a copy of it. For suchi s the nature of events that have already happened and are about to happen, that I wished my sentiments as to keeping the peace to be put on record. Now, while exhorting Caesar of all people to keep it, I could see no better way of influencing him than by saying that it was suitable to his wisdom. If I called that wisdom "admirable," seeing that I was urging him to the preservation of our country, I am not afraid of being thought guilty of flattery, when for such an object I would gladly have thrown myself at his feet. Where, again, my expression is "bestow some of your time"—that does not refer to peace, but it is a request to him to reflect in some degree on my own case and on my obligations. As to my protesting that I have taken no part in the war, though that has been proved by facts, yet I mentioned it that my persuasions might have the greater weight, and my expressing approval of his claim has the same object. But what is the use of discussing this now? I only wish it had done any good! Nay, I should not object to have the letter read in public meeting, since Pompey himself, when also writing to Caesar, put up for public perusal the despatch in which are the words "Considering the extraordinary brilliancy of your achievements." What! more brilliant than his own, or those of Africanus? "Circumstances made it necessary to say so." Well, since two men of your character are going to meet him at the fifth milestone, ⁷⁶ pray, to what does he pledge himself, what is he doing or going to do? With what greater confidence will he rely upon the merits of his case, when he sees you, and men like you, not only in crowds, but with smiles on your faces, and congratulations on your lips? "Are we, then, doing wrong?" Not at all, as far as you are concerned. Yet, nevertheless, there is an end of all distinguishing between the signs of genuine and pretended feeling. What decrees of the senate do I foresee !-But I have spoken more openly than I intended.

I mean to be at Arpinum on the 28th, then to go the round of my country houses, which I have no hope of ever seeing again. Your "frank" policy—which is yet not without a spice of caution to suit the times-has my warm approbation. Lepidus, for his part—for we spend almost every day together, much to his gratification-never liked the idea of leaving Italy, Tullus much less. For letters from him frequently pass from others to me. But it is not so much their opinions that move me: for they have given much fewer pledges to the Republic than I have: it is your influence, by Hercules, that has the greatest weight with me; for it suggests a means of retrieving the past and of securing the present. But I appeal to you: what could be more wretched than that the one gains applause in the worst possible cause, the other nothing but anger in the best? That the one is esteemed the preserver of his enemies, the other the betrayer of his friends? And, by heaven, however much I love our Gnaeus, as I do and am bound to do, yet I cannot commend him for failing to relieve such men. For if it was fear, what could be more cowardly? If, as some think, it was because he thought that his own position would be improved by their massacre, what could be more unfair? But a truce to these reflexions: I only increase my grief by recalling them.

On the evening of the 24th Balbus the younger called on me, hastening on a secret mission to the consul Lentulus from Caesar, with a letter, a message, and a promise of a province, to induce him to return to Rome. I don't think he will be persuaded except by a personal interview. Balbus also told me that Caesar wished, above all things, to catch up Pompey (I believe that much), and to be reconciled to him. This latter I do not believe, and I much fear that all this clemency is only an elaborate preparation for a Cinna-like massacre. The elder Balbus, indeed, writes me word that Caesar would wish nothing better than to live in safety, with Pompey as chief citizen. You believe that, I suppose!

But while I am writing these words (25th February), Pompey may have reached Brundisium; for he started in light marching order in advance of his legions on the 19th, from Luceria. But this portent is a man of frightful vigilance, rapidity, and energy. I haven't an idea what will happen.

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CCCXL (A VIII, 10)

When Dionysius, much to my surprise, arrived at my house, I spoke to him with the utmost candour. I put before him my circumstances; asked him what he had in his mind to do: said that I would not press him for anything against his will. He answered that he did not know where such money as he possessed was to be found. Some could not pay, from others it was not yet due. He gave me certain other reasons, connected with his poor slaves, for his being unable to stay with me. I gave in to him. I discharged him from farther attendance, with regret as a master for the boys, but with satisfaction as an ungrateful fellow. I wished you to know the facts, and what my opinion of his conduct was.

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CCCXLI (A VIII, 11)

You think me thoroughly upset by a violent mental struggle. I am so, indeed, but not by one so violent as you perhaps imagine. For all my anxiety is lightened as soon as I have either made up my mind, or found on reflexion that a solution is impossible. However, one may express regret. Well, I do so, after all, from one day's end to another. But considering the uselessness of this, I dread being an absolute discredit to my philosophy and my writings: I therefore spend all my time in considering what the virtue of that ideal character is, which, according to you, I have delineated in my books ⁷⁷ with considerable care. Do you remember, then, that ideal "director of the commonwealth" to whom we would refer all questions? In the fifth book, I think it is, Scipio thus speaks: “For as the object of a pilot is a successful voyage, of a physician bodily health, of a commander victory, so the object of such a director of the commonwealth is the happiness of the citizens, that it should be secure in means of defence, opulent in material resources, splendid in reputation, untarnished in its virtue. For my idea of him is that he should carry to perfection the work which is the greatest and best among men.”

Such a conception never occurred to our friend Gnaeus in former times, and least of all in this controversy. Supremacy has been the object of both; there has been no idea of securing the happiness and virtue of the citizens. Nor, indeed, did he abandon the city because he was unable to protect it, nor Italy because he was driven from it; but his idea from the first was to stir up every land and sea, to rouse foreign princes, to bring barbarous tribes in arms into Italy, to collect the most formidable armies possible. For some time past a kind of royalty like Sulla's has been the object in view, and this is the eager desire of many who are with him. Do you suppose that some understanding between the two, some bargain has been impossible? Today it is still possible. But the object of neither is our happiness: both want to be kings. This brief exposition of the situation I have made in response to your invitation: for you wished me to explain to you my sentiments as to these unhappy circumstances. I speak "prophetically," then, my dear Atticus, not in vague denunciation like hers, whom no one believed, but foreseeing in imagination: “E'en now upon the mighty deep, etc.” ⁷⁸ What I can prophesy, I repeat, is much the same: such an Iliad of miseries is there hanging over our heads. Besides, my position is worse than that of those who have crossed the sea with Pompey in this, that they fear one or the other; I fear both. "Why have I stayed, then?" you will say. From obedience to you, if you like, or from failing to meet him in person, or because it was a juster course. You will see, I tell you, our poor Italy trodden under foot next summer, or in the hands of the slaves ⁷⁹ of both leaders gathered from the four corners of the earth. It is not a proscription (which is said to have been frequently threatened in the talk at Luceria) that is so much to be feared, as a general destruction: so vast are the forces which I see will take part in the conflict on both sides. That is my conjecture of what is to happen. But you perhaps looked for something consoling from me. I can find nothing of the sort. Nothing can exceed the misery, ruin, and disgrace. You ask me what Caesar said in his letter to me. The usual thing: he was much obliged by my having remained neutral, and begged me to continue to do so. The younger Balbus brought me a message to the same effect. The latter was on his way to visit the consul Lentulus with a letter from Caesar, and promises of rewards if he would return to Rome. But, when I calculate the days, I think he will have crossed over before he could be met by Balbus. I wished you to appreciate the slovenly style of Pompey's two letters sent to me, and my great care in writing my answer. I am sending you copies of them. I am anxious to see what this dash of Caesar's upon Brundisium through Apulia accomplishes. Oh that it might turn out something like the Parthian affair! ⁸⁰ As soon as I hear anything I will let you know: on your part, pray let me know what the loyalists are saying; I hear there are crowds of them at Rome. I know, of course, that you don't go abroad; ⁸¹ still you must hear a great deal. I remember a book being brought you by Demetrius of Magnesia, dedicated to you, "On Concord." ⁸² Please send it to me. You see in what direction my thoughts are turning.

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CCCXLII (A VIII, 11 d)

When I sent you the letter which was delivered to you at Canusium, I had no idea that you were about to cross the sea in the service of the Republic, and I was in great hopes that we might eventually be able, while in Italy, to effect an arrangement—the most advantageous thing of all in my opinion—or to defend the Republic without the least loss of dignity. Meanwhile, before my letter could have reached you, being informed of your design from your message sent through Decimus Laelius to the consuls, I did not wait for a letter from you to reach me, but with all promptitude began my journey to join you in Apulia with my brother Quintus and our sons. When I had reached Teanum Sidicinum your intimate friend Gaius Messius, and several others besides, told me that Caesar was on his march to Capua, and was going to halt that very day at Aesernia. I was much disturbed, because, if that were so, I thought not only that my journey was barred, but that I myself was fairly caught. So I went no farther than Cales at that time, intending to wait there, rather than elsewhere, till something certain was reported to me from Aesernia in regard to this information. But at Cales a copy of your letter to Lentulus, the consul, was brought to me. The substance of this was that you had received a despatch from L. Domitius on the 17th of February, a copy of which you appended, and added that it was of the utmost importance to the state, that all forces should concentrate in one place as early as possible, and that he should leave a sufficient garrison at Capua. When I read this letter I thought, and everybody else agreed with me, that you were about to proceed in full force to Corfinium, to which place, since Caesar was encamped against it, I did not think that there was a safe road for me. Whilst waiting in the greatest suspense for farther news, I heard two items of intelligence at the same time—what had happened at Corfinium, and that you had commenced your march to Brundisium: and though neither I nor my brother had any hesitation as to hurrying on to Brundisium, we were warned by many coming from Samnium and Apulia to be on our guard against being intercepted by Caesar, since, having started for the same district as that to which we were going, he was likely to arrive at his destination even quicker than we could. That being the case, neither I nor my brother, nor any of our friends, thought it right by rashness on our part to run the risk of injuring not only ourselves, but the state also; especially as we felt sure that, even if the road proved safe to ourselves, we could not, after all, possibly catch you up so late as this. Meanwhile I received a letter from you dated Canusium, 20th of February, in which you urged me to make still more haste to Brundisium. As I received this on the 27th, I felt sure that you had already arrived at Brundisium, and I saw that the road there was entirely closed to us, and that we were as completely prisoners as those at Corfinium. For I do not count as prisoners those only who have fallen into the hands of armed men, but those also quite as much who, being barred from certain districts, find themselves between garrisons and within the lines of another.

That being so, my first and greatest desire would have been never to have been separated from you, and, indeed, I shewed you my wish when I resigned the charge of Capua: which I did not do to escape a burden, but because I saw that that city could not be held without troops, and I did not wish to meet with the mischance which I grieve to see has befallen some very gallant gentlemen. Since, however, I had not the good fortune to be with you, would that I had been kept informed of your design! For I could not possibly guess it, being always accustomed to think that the last thing in the world to happen would be that this cause of the Republic should fail in Italy, while we had you as our leader. Not, however, that I am now finding any fault with your policy, but I lament the fortune of the Republic; and yet, if I fail to see your object, I do not on that account feel less certain that you have done nothing without the most careful calculation. I think you remember what my opinion has ever been, in the first place, as to maintaining peace at any price, however unfair; in the second, as to the city-for as to Italy, you had never given me any indication of your purpose.

But I do not claim for myself that my policy ought to have prevailed: I followed yours, and that not only for the sake of the Republic—of which I despaired, and which has already been overthrown, and cannot be restored without a most mischievous civil war—but I wanted you: it was with you that I wished to be; nor will I omit any opportunity of securing that, if any such occurs. I was quite aware that in the whole controversy I was failing to satisfy men who had set their hearts on war. For, in the first place, I openly avowed that I preferred peace to everything, not because I was not afraid of the same things as they were, but because I regarded them as less formidable than civil war. In the second place, after the war had begun, when I saw that conditions of peace were being offered you, and a conciliatory and liberal answer was being returned by you to those proposals, I took my special case into consideration, a consideration which I thought in view of your kindness to me I should have no difficulty in justifying in your eyes. For I remembered that I was the one man who, in return for the most eminent services to the state, had suffered the most afflicting and cruel punishment; the one man who, if I offended him—to whom, in spite of our being actually in arms, a second consulship and a most splendid triumph was being offered-would be exposed to the same contests as before: for my person seems ever to present a favourite mark for the attacks of disloyal citizens. Nor were my suspicions premature: threats of this sort have been openly made to me: and I was not so much afraid of them, if I had to face them, as convinced that I ought to avoid them, if that could be done with honour.

You have now a resumé, as brief as possible, of my policy during the time that there was any hope of peace: for the time following events made me powerless. But I have an easy answer to those who find fault with me. I have never been more devoted to Caesar than they, nor they more devoted to the Republic than I. The difference between them and me is this: while they are loyal citizens, and I deserve the same honourable title, I wished the controversy settled by diplomacy (as I know you did too), they wished it settled by arms. But since the latter method has won the day, I will take care that the Republic shall not miss in me the spirit of a citizen, nor you that of a friend.

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CCCXLIII (F VIII, 15)

DID you ever see a more futile person than your friend Pompey, for having stirred up all this dust, without any stuff in him, after all? And, on the other hand, did you ever read or hear of anyone prompter in action than our Caesar, and more moderate in victory? Why! Do you think that our soldiers, who in the most inclement and frozen districts, in the severest winter weather, have successfully finished a war at a walk, have been fed on the pick of the orchard? ⁸³ "What, then," say you, "is it all glory with you?" Nay, if you only knew how anxious I am, you would laugh at this glory of mine, which, after all, has nothing to do with me. I can't explain matters to you unless we meet, and I hope that will soon take place. For as soon as he has driven Pompey out of Italy, Caesar has resolved to summon me to Rome: and I look upon that as good as done, unless Pompey has preferred being besieged in Brundisium. Upon my life, the chief motive I have for hurrying there is my ardent desire to see you and impart all my thoughts. And what a lot I have! Goodness! I am afraid that, as usual, I shall forget them all when I do see you. But what have I done to be obliged to retrace my steps to the Alps? It is all because the Intemelli ⁸⁴ are in arms, and that on some trumpery excuse. Bellienus, a slave of Demetrius, who was commanding a garrison there, seized one Domitius—a man of rank and a friend of Caesar's—for a bribe, and strangled him. The tribe rushed to arms: and I have got to go there with my cohorts over the snow. All over the world, say you, the Domitii are coming to grief. I could have wished that our descendant of Venus had shewn as much resolution in the case of your Domitius, ⁸⁵ as the son of Psecas ⁸⁶ did in this one. Give my love to your son.

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CCCXLIV (A VIII, 12)

THE inflammation in my eyes is somewhat more troublesome even than before. However, I preferred dictating this letter to letting Fadius Gallus, who is a very affectionate friend of us both, have no line to deliver to you. Yesterday, indeed, I wrote with my own hand, as best I could, the letter whose prophecy I hope may be falsified. The motive, however, of the present letter is not only to prevent any day passing without writing to you, but the more reasonable one of inducing you to devote a little time to me. It won't take you long, and so I do much wish to have your view explained to me in such a way, that I may thoroughly understand it. I have not yet committed myself in any respect. I have been guilty of no omission which does not admit of a sound, not merely a plausible, excuse. For certainly I did not make a mistake when I refused to accept the charge of Capua without a garrison, in my wish to escape not only the crime of failure, but the suspicion of treachery as well; nor when, after the terms had been brought by L. Caesar and Fabatus, ⁸⁷ I was careful not to offend a man to whom Pompey was offering a consulship and triumph, though both were in arms. Nor, indeed, can anyone fairly find fault with my last step in not crossing the sea. For on this measure, though it was a thing to be considered, I have not had the opportunity of embarking. For I had no right to suspect what he was going to do, especially as from Pompey's own letter—as I see was your own opinion also—I felt no doubt of his intention to go to the relief of Domitius. In point of fact, I preferred to have a longer time to consider what was the right course and what I ought to do. First of all, then, I wish you would write and tell me more distinctly—though you have already made it pretty clear—what you think of all this; and, secondly, that you would look into the future and give me a sketch of what you think ought to be my rôle, and where you think I could be of most service to the Republic; whether a pacific part is required, or whether everything depends on a man of war. And, indeed, though my standard is always duty, I yet remember the advice you once gave me, which, if I had followed, I should not have endured the sad disaster of that crisis in my life. I remember what you urged me to do on that occasion through Theophanes, through Culleo, and I have often recalled it with a sigh. Therefore let me at last revert to the calculation, which I then rejected, and see how I may follow a course which will not simply aim at glory, but will conduce somewhat more to my safety also. But I make no stipulation with you. I want you to write me your opinion in plain terms. I want you also to investigate with all the diligence you can—and you will have men through whom you can do so—what our friend Lentulus and Domitius are doing or intending to do, what their present bearing is, whether they find fault with anyone, or are angry with anyone. Why do I say "anyone"? I mean, of course, Pompey. Certainly Pompey lays all the blame on Domitius, as may be seen in his letter, of which I send you a copy. These things, then, be so good as to look into, and, as I asked you in a previous letter, send me the book "On Concord," by Demetrius of Magnesia, which he sent you.

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CCCXLV (A VIII, 15 a)

I entreat you, my dear Cicero, to undertake a task and a project in the highest degree worthy of your high character—to recall Caesar and Pompey to their former cordiality, who have been alienated by the treachery of others. Believe me, Caesar will not only put himself in your hands, but will also consider himself under the deepest obligation to you, if you throw yourself into this task. I wish Pompey would do the same, but that he Can at this time of day be induced to accept any terms is rather a matter for wishes than hopes. But when he has recovered from his agitation and alarm, I shall begin to have some hope that your influence with him may prove to be of the greatest avail. In having expressed a wish that my friend the consul Lentulus should remain at Rome you have obliged Caesar, and, believe me, myself also in the highest degree. For I value him so greatly, that he holds as high a place in my regard as Caesar himself: and if he had only allowed me to talk with him as usual, and had not again and again shewed himself wholly averse from conversation with me, I should have been less unhappy than I am. For you must not suppose that anyone at this crisis is more painfully affected than I am by seeing a man, whom I love more than myself, resolved in his consulship to be anything in the world rather than a consul. If he will only deign to take your advice and to believe us in regard to Caesar, and to serve the rest of his consulship at Rome, I shall even begin to hope that by the advice of the senate— acting at your suggestion, and with him to bring the matter formally before it—Pompey and Caesar may be reconciled. If that is done, I shall think that I have not lived in vain. I feel sure that you will entirely approve of what Caesar did about Corfinium. Considering the circumstances, nothing better could have occurred than a settlement being made without a drop of blood. I am much gratified by the pleasure you express at the visit of my dear (and your dear) Balbus. Whatever Balbus has told you about Caesar, and whatever Caesar has written, I am sure the latter will convince you by his acts—whatever measure of success he may have—that he has written with the most absolute sincerity.

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CCCXLVI (A IX, 7 C)

I am very glad that your letter expresses such strong approval of what happened at Corfinium. I shall be glad to follow your advice, and all the more so, that I had spontaneously resolved to display the greatest clemency and to do my best to reconcile Pompey. Let us try in this way if we can recover the affections of all parties, and enjoy a lasting victory; for others, owing to their cruelty, have been unable to avoid rousing hatred, or to maintain their victory for any length of time, with the one exception of Lucius Sulla, whom I have no intention of imitating. Let this be our new method of conquering-to fortify ourselves by mercy and generosity. As to how that may be secured, certain ideas suggest themselves to my mind, and many more may be hit upon. I beg you to take these matters into consideration. I have taken Pompey's prefect Numerius Magius. Of course I kept to my policy, and caused him at once to be set at liberty. I have now had two of Pompey's prefects of engineers in my hands, and have set them both at liberty. ⁸⁸ If they wish to be grateful, they will be bound to advise Pompey to prefer my friendship to that of the men who have ever been most bitterly hostile both to him and myself, by whose intrigues the Republic has been reduced to its present position. ⁸⁹

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CCCXLVII (A VIII, 13)

Take the handwriting of my secretary as a sign of my eyes being inflamed, and let the same fact excuse my brevity, though at this particular time I have nothing to write. We are hanging entirely on news from Brundisium. If Caesar has caught our friend Gnaeus, there is a dubious hope of peace; but if the latter has got across beforehand, there is a fear of a fatal war. But do you see upon what sort of man the Republic has fallen? How clear-sighted, how alert, how well prepared! By heaven, if he puts no one to death, nor despoils anyone of anything, he will be most adored by those who had feared him most. The burgesses of the country towns, and the country people also, talk a great deal to me. They don't care a farthing for anything but their lands, their poor villas, their paltry pence. And now observe the reaction: the man in whom they once trusted they now dread: the man they dreaded they worship. What grave mistakes and vices on our side are accountable for this I cannot think of without sorrow. However, I have already written to tell you what I thought was threatening; and I am now waiting for a letter from you.

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CCCXLVIII (A VIII, 14)

I feel sure that my daily packets must bore you, especially as I don't inform you of anything new, nor, in fact, am able to hit upon any novel sentiment to express. But if I went out of my way needlessly to send letter-carriers to you with these empty epistles, I should indeed be foolish: as it is, when people are going to Rome, especially people about the house, I cannot reconcile myself to sending nothing by way of a letter to you; and besides, believe me, I find a relief in a time of such unhappiness in, as it were, talking to you; and much more so when I read letters from you. I certainly feel it to be true that there has been no period since our panic flight that less demanded a continuance of our correspondence, because no news reaches either Rome or this place, which is only two or three days journey from Brundisium: whereas Brundisium is the cardinal point of the whole struggle in this first campaign. I am therefore racked with suspense about it. But we shall know all before the 15th. For I observe that Caesar started from Corfinium on the afternoon of the same day—that is, the 21st of February—as that on the morning of which Pompey left Canusium. But Caesar moves so rapidly, and encourages the speed of his men with such bounties, that I fear he may have approached Brundisium quicker than may be convenient. You will say, "What good, then, do you do by anticipating an annoyance, which you are to ascertain three days hence?" None indeed. But, as I said before, I like above all things talking to you, and at the same time I want to tell you that my plan of procedure, which I thought quite fixed, is somewhat shaken. The precedents, ⁹⁰ of which you approve, don't altogether satisfy me. For what gallant action on their part in the service of the state has there ever been? Or who expects anything praiseworthy from them? Nor, by heaven, do I see anything commendable in those who have crossed the sea to prepare a war, intolerable as things were here-for I foresee the extent and destructive nature of that war. But there is one man who shakes my resolution, whose companion in flight, whose partner in the recovery of the constitution, I think myself bound to be. "Do you change your opinion as often as that, then?" I speak to you as to myself: and who is there that in a matter of such importance does not; argue with himself in a variety of ways? At the same time I also desire to elicit your opinion: if it is the same, that I may be strengthened in my resolution; if it has changed, that I may conform mine to yours. Certainly, in regard to my present doubt, it concerns me to know what Domitius and our friend Lentulus intend doing. As to Domitius, we hear contradictory rumours: at one time that he is at Tibur not by any means leaping for joy, at another that he, with the Lepidi has come to the walls of the city, which also I find not to be true. For Lepidus says that he has made his way somewhere by secret roads—is it to hide himself or to reach the sea? ⁹¹ Lepidus himself does not know. He knows nothing either about the younger Domitius. He adds a very annoying particular; that a considerable sum of money which Domitius had at Corfinium had not been restored to him. ⁹² Of Lentulus I hear nothing. Please inquire into these matters, and report to me.

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CCCXLIX (A VIII, 15)

On the 3rd of March Aegypta ⁹³ delivered me your letters, one, an old one, dated 26th of February, which you say that you intrusted to Pinarius, whom I have not seen. In this you say that you are waiting to learn how Vibullius, who had been sent in advance, is getting on, who did not obtain an interview with Caesar at all (I observe in your second letter that you are aware of this), and how I mean to receive Caesar when he returns. I design to avoid meeting him at all. You mention also your intended retreat from Rome ⁹⁴ and the change in your way of life, in the necessity of which I agree, and you say that you don't know whether Domitius retains his fasces. When you know, please inform me.

So much for your first letter. There followed two, both dated the 28th of February, which completely dislodged me from my old resolve, ⁹⁵ which, however, I told you was beginning to totter. I am not shaken by your expression, "incensed with Jove himself," ⁹⁶ for there is danger in the angry passions of both; and though victory, of course, is uncertain, yet now the worse side seems to me to be the better prepared. Nor am I influenced by the consuls, who are themselves more easily moved than feather or leaf. Consideration of duty tortures me, and has all this while been torturing me, with indecision. To remain is certainly the more cautious policy, to cross the sea is considered the more honourable. Sometimes I prefer that many should think that I have acted incautiously, rather than a few think that I had acted dishonourably. You ask me about Lepidus and Tullus; they, indeed, have made up their minds to meet Caesar at Rome, and to come into the senate.

Your most recent letter is dated on the 1st of March, in which you express a wish that there might be a meeting between them, and say that you do not despair of peace. But at the moment of writing I am of opinion that they will not meet, and that, if they do, Pompey will not yield to any offer of terms. You appear to have no doubt, if the consuls cross, what I ought to do. They are certainly going to cross, or rather, as a matter of fact, have already crossed. But remember that, with the exception of Appius, there is hardly one who has not a legal right to cross. For they either have imperium, as Pompey, Scipio, Sufenas, Fannius, Voconius, Sestius, the consuls themselves—who have by immemorial custom the right to visit all provinces or they are their legates. But I decide on nothing. As to what your opinion is, and pretty well what is the right course, I am clear. I would have written at greater length, if I had been able to do so with my own hand. But I think I shall be able to do so in a couple of days. I am sending you a copy of Cornelius Balbus's letter received on the same day as yours, that you may sympathize with me, when you see me treated with such mockery.

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CCCL (A IX, 7 a)

ROME, 3 MARCH To say nothing of humble people like ourselves, even in the case of the most important persons designs are generally judged by the majority of mankind by their result, and not their intention: yet, relying on your goodness of heart, we will offer you, on the point as to which you have written to us, the advice which seems to us to be the soundest; and if it is not sensible advice, yet it will at least proceed from absolute good faith and good feeling. If we knew from his own lips that Caesar—as in our judgment we think he should do— would try directly he arrived in Rome to effect a reconciliation between himself and Pompey, we should urge you to resolve upon taking part in the negotiation, in order to facilitate and add an air of dignity to the business through the ties which bind you to both parties. Or if, on the contrary, we thought that Caesar would not do so, and if we knew that he wished to go to war with Pompey, we would never persuade you to bear arms against a man who had done you very great services, just as we have ever begged you not to engage in a war against Caesar. But since, even now, what Caesar intends doing is for us a matter of opinion rather than of knowledge, all we can say is this: we do not think it consistent with your position or your universally acknowledged good faith to bear arms against either one or the other, considering your intimate connexions with both; and we have no doubt that Caesar with his usual kindness, will very warmly approve this course. However, if you wish it, we will write to Caesar, and ask to be informed what he means to do in the circumstances. On receiving an answer from him, we will at once write and tell you what our sentiments are, and will convince you that we give you the advice which seems to us to conduce most to your own position, not to Caesar's policy. And this we feel certain that Caesar, with his usual liberality in making allowance for his friend, will approve.

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CCCLI (A VIII, 16)

I have provided for everything except a secret and safe journey to the Upper Sea. For I cannot venture upon this (Lower) Sea at this season of the year. But by what route am I to get to the place, on which my thoughts are set, and to which the circumstances of the case call me? I must not delay my departure, lest anything should hinder it and tie me here. It is not, in truth, that man who attracts me, as is thought to be the case: I long ago knew him to be the most incapable of politicians, I now know him also to be the least capable of generals. ⁹⁷ It is not he, therefore, that attracts me, but it is the common talk reported to me by Philotimus. He says I am being torn to pieces by the Optimates. Ye Gods! Optimates indeed! See how they are rushing to meet Caesar, and parading their loyalty to him! Why, the country towns are offering him prayers as though he were a god, and not sham ones, as those offered on behalf of the other when he was ill. ⁹⁸ But the simple fact is that whatever mischief this Pisistratus abstains from doing is as much a subject for gratitude, as if he had prevented some one else from doing it. They hope the one will be lenient, they believe the other to be enraged. What complimentary processions from the towns! What honours voted! Pure fright, you will say. Yes, I daresay; but they are still more afraid of the other. The artful clemency of the one delights, the angry temper of the other alarms, them. Those on the roll of the 360 jurors, ⁹⁹ who used to be particularly fond of our friend Gnaeus, and one or other of whom I see every day, are horrified at some of his Lucerian doings. ¹⁰⁰ So I want to know what sort of Optimates these are to force me abroad, while they remain at home themselves. However, be they who they may, "I fear the Trojans." ¹⁰¹ Yet I see clearly with what a prospect I am starting; and I am joining myself with a man better prepared to devastate Italy than to win a victory, and have only a master to expect. And, indeed, at the moment of writing this (4th March) I am in momentary expectation of some news from Brundisium. But why do I say some news? It is news of his shameful flight thence that I expect, and of the route which the victor is taking on his return and of his destination. When I have got that news, if Caesar come by the Appia, I think of retiring to Arpinum.

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CCCLII (A IX, I)

Although by the time you read this I think I shall know what has happened at Brundisium—for Gnaeus left Canusium on the 21st of February, and I write on the 6th of March, the fourteenth day after his removing from Canusium—yet I am kept in painful suspense as to what each hour may bring, and am wondering that nothing even by way of rumour has reached me. There is a surprising silence. But perhaps all this is mere idle curiosity ¹⁰² about what, after all, must soon be known. One thing worries me, that I cannot at present make out where our friend P. Lentulus and Domitius are. Now I want to know, in order the easier to find out their intentions, whether they are going to Pompey, and if so, by what route and when. The city, indeed, I am told, is now crammed full of Optimates. I hear that Sosius and Lupus are sitting in court, ¹⁰³ whom our friend Gnaeus thought would arrive at Brundisium before himself. From these parts there is a general exodus. Even Manius Lepidus, with whom I am used to spend the day, is thinking of starting tomorrow. For myself, I am stopping on at Formiae in order to get quicker intelligence. Then I am for Arpinum. Thence, by whatever road there is least chance of meetings, to the Upper Sea, leaving behind or altogether giving up my lictors. For I am told that by some loyalists, who are now and have often been before a protection to the commonwealth, my staying in Italy is disapproved, and that at their entertainments (beginning pretty early in the day too) many severe reflexions are being made upon me! Evidently, then, the thing to do is to leave the country, to wage war on Italy by land and sea, to rouse the hatred of the disloyal against us once more, which had become extinct, and to follow the advice of a Lucceius and Theophanes! For others have some reason for going: Scipio, for instance, starts for Syria, the province allotted to him, or is accompanying his son-in-law, in either case with an honourable pretext, or, if you like, is avoiding the wrath of Caesar. The Marcelli, for their part, had they not feared the sword of Caesar, would have remained: Appius has the same reason for fear, and that, too, in connexion with a recent quarrel. Except him and Q. Cassius, the rest are legates, Faustus is a proquaestor: I am the only one who might take either one course or the other. Added to this, there is my brother, whom it is not fair to involve in this adventure, considering that Caesar would be still more angry with him. But I cannot induce him to stay behind. This concession I shall make to Pompey, as in duty bound: for as far as I am concerned no one else influences me— nor the talk of the loyalists, who do not really exist, nor the cause which has been Conducted with timidity and will be conducted with crime. To one man, one alone, I make this concession, and that, too, without any request from him, and though—as he says—he is not defending his own cause, but that of the state. I should like much to know what you are thinking of doing as to crossing into Epirus.

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CCCLIII (A IX, 7 b)

IF you are well, I am glad. After sending you the letter written in conjunction with Oppius, I have received one from Caesar, of which I am sending you a copy. From this you will be able to see how desirous he is for a reconciliation between himself and Pompey, and how averse from every thought of cruelty. That such are his sentiments I am, as in duty bound, greatly rejoiced. As to yourself, you? good faith, and your piety, I entertain the same opinion as you do yourself, my dear Cicero—that your reputation and duty cannot admit of your bearing arms against a man from whom you avow having received so much kindness. I have full assurance that Caesar, as might be expected from his extraordinary kindness, will approve of this course, and I know for certain that you will satisfy him to the full by undertaking no command in the war against him, and by not associating yourself with his adversaries. And it is not only in the case of a man of such a high position and character as yourself that he will accept this as sufficient, but even in my own case he has volunteered the concession, that I should not serve in any camp that shall, in the future, be opposed to either Lentulus or Pompey, to whom I am under very great obligations; and he has told me that he will be satisfied with my performing civil functions for him, which I am at liberty to perform for them also if I choose. Accordingly, I am now at Rome acting for Lentulus generally, taking his business upon me, and doing for them all that duty, honour, and piety demand. But, by heaven, the hope of their coming to terms, which I had given up, I now think not entirely desperate, since Caesar is minded as we are bound to wish him to be. In the circumstances my opinion is, if you think well, that you should write to him and ask him for protection, as, with my full approbation, you asked it from Pompey at the Milonian crisis. ¹⁰⁴ I will engage, if I am right in my judgment of Caesar, that he will take more thought for your dignity than for his own advantage. I am no certain judge of the wisdom of the advice I am now giving you, but at least I am sure that whatever I write to you I write from an uncommon affection and friendly disposition; because upon my life—which I would forfeit to save Caesar—I value you so highly, that I regard few as equally dear as yourself. When you have come to some conclusion on this matter, let me hear from you. For I am uncommonly anxious that you may find it possible to make good your kindly intentions to both sides; which, by heaven, I feel sure you will do. Take care of your health.

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CCCLIV (A IX, 2)

THOUGH on the 7th of March (the day, I think, for your fever fit) I am expecting a longer letter from you, yet I think I ought to answer even the short one which you wrote on the 4th, just before your attack. You say that you are glad that I have stayed in Italy, and that you are of the same opinion as before. But in a former letter you seemed to me to have no doubt about my going, always provided that Gnaeus embarked with an adequate following, and that the consuls crossed also. Have you forgotten this, or did I misunderstand you, or have you changed your opinion? But I shall either ascertain your opinion from the letter I am now expecting, or I shall draw another letter from you. No news as yet from Brundisium.

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CCCLV (A IX, 2 a)

WHAT a difficult, what a hopeless thing! You pass over no point in giving your advice, and yet how completely you fail to reveal what your real opinion is! You are glad that I am not with Pompey, and yet you suggest how dibcreditable it would be for me to be in the House when any attack is made on him; yet shocking to approve his conduct. Certainly. To speak against him, then? "God forbid !" say you. What, then, is to be done, if the one course is criminal, the other exposed to punishment? "You will obtain permission," say you, "from Caesar to absent yourself and live in retirement." Am I to implore this permission, then? How humiliating! What if I fail to get it? Again, you say, "The question of your triumph will be unprejudiced." What if this very thing is used to put pressure upon me? Should I accept it? What a disgrace! Should I decline it? Caesar will think that I am repudiating his whole policy, as formerly in the case of the land commission. ¹⁰⁵ Why, in excusing himself, he always throws the whole blame for what then happened on me, saying that I was so bitterly opposed to him, that I would not accept even an honour at his hands. With how much greater irritation will he take a similar proceeding from me now? It will, of course, be greater in proportion as this honour is greater than the former, and he is himself in a stronger position.

But you say that you have no doubt I am in very bad odour with Pompey by this time: I don't see why that should be the case, particularly at this time. Shall a man who never told me anything about his plan, till after he had lost Corfinium, complain of my not having come to Brundisium, when Caesar lay between me and Brundisium? In the next place, complaint on his side he must know to be barred. He considers that I was clearer sighted than he about the weakness of the municipal towns, the levies, the maintenance of peace, the city, money, and the need of occupying Picenum. If, on the other hand, I don't go when it is in my power, he will have some right to be angry with me: and I shrink from that, not for fear of his hurting me—-for what could he do? And “Who is a slave who does not fear to die?” ¹⁰⁶ But because I have a horror of ingratitude. I feel confident, therefore, that my arrival in his camp, whenever it takes place, will, as you say, be welcome enough. ¹⁰⁷ For as to what you say, "If Caesar acts with more moderation you will reconsider your advice to me "- how can he help behaving ruthlessly? Character, previous career, the very nature of his present undertaking, his associates, the strength of the loyalists, or even their firmness, all forbid it.

I had scarcely read your letter, when Curtius Postumus called on me as he was hurrying to join Caesar, talking of nothing but fleets and armies—"Caesar was going to seize the Spains, ¹⁰⁸ occupy Asia, Sicily, Africa, Sardinia, and was promptly pursuing Pompey into Greece." I must start, therefore, with the view of sharing not so much in a war as in a stampede. For I shall never be able to stand the gossip of your folk at Rome, whatever they are, for loyalists they are not, in spite of their name. Nevertheless, it is precisely that which I want to know— what they say; and I earnestly entreat you to make inquiries and inform me. As yet I am entirely ignorant of what has happened at Brundisium: when I know, I shall shape my plans in the light of facts and circumstances, but I shall consult you.

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CCCLVI (A Ix, 6 a)

HAVING merely seen our friend Furnius, and not having been able conveniently either to speak or to listen to him, as I was in haste and on the march, after sending my legions in advance, I yet could not omit writing to you, and sending him to thank you: though this last I have often done, and think I shall have occasion to do so still oftener—so great are your services to me. Above all, I beg of you, as I feel sure that I shall be coming to the city walls ¹⁰⁹ before long, that I may see you there to enable me to avail myself of your advice, influence, position, and support of every kind. I will return to what I said at first: be kind enough to pardon my haste and the brevity of my letter. You will learn every-thing else from Furnius.

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CCCLVII (A IX, 3)

THE son of Domitius passed through Formiae on the 8th of March, hurrying to his mother at Naples, ¹¹⁰ and on my slave Dionysius putting some earnest questions to him about his father, he bade him tell me that he was outside the city. I, however, had been told that he had gone either to join Pompey or into Spain. What the truth of the matter is I should like very much to know: for it affects the question on which I am now deliberating, that, if Domitius, at any rate, has failed to find an exit from Italy, Gnaeus should understand that my own departure from Italy is not easy, occupied as it now is throughout with arms and garrisons, especially in the winter season. For if it had been a more c6nvenient season of the year, I might have sailed even on the Lower Sea. As it is, a passage is impossible except by the Upper Sea, to which my road is closed. Be good enough to inquire, therefore, about both Domitius and Lentulus. No rumour has come as yet from Brundisium, and today is the 9th, on which (or on the day before) I imagine that Caesar has reached Brundisium. For he halted at Arpi on the 1st. But if you choose to believe Postumus, he was intending to pursue Gnaeus. For by a calculation of the state of the weather and days he concluded that the latter had already crossed. I said I didn't think Caesar would have crews: Postumus felt confident on that point, and all the more, because Caesar's liberality had been heard of by shipowners. But it cannot now be long before I learn the entire state of affairs at Brundisium.

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CCCLVIII (A IX, 5)

ON your birthday ¹¹¹ you wrote me a letter full of advice, and not only shewing the greatest kindness to me, but also the most admirable wisdom. Philotimus delivered it to me the day after receiving it from you. The points you put are indeed of extreme difficulty—the journey to the Upper Sea, a voyage by the Lower, a departure to Arpinum, lest I should seem to have avoided Caesar, a continuance at Formiae, lest I should seem to have put myself forward to congratulate him— but nothing is more distressing than the sight of those things, which, I tell you, must before long be seen. Curtius Postumus has been with me: I told you how oppressive he was. Q. Fufius also has been to see me. What a triumphant look! What assurance! Post haste for Brundisium: denouncing the crime of Pompey, the recklessness and folly of the senate. If I can't stand such things in my own villa, shall I be able to put up with Curtius in the senate-house? But suppose me to endure this with good temper, what will be the sequel of the usual "Speak, Marcus Tullius" ? ¹¹² To say nothing of the Republican cause, which I look upon as lost, both from the wounds inflicted on it and the cures prepared for them, what am I to do about Pompey? With whom—for why should I deny it ?-I am downright angry. For I am always more affected by the causes of events than by the events themselves. Therefore, turning over these disastrous events in my mind—and what could be more disastrous!-or rather, coming to the conclusion that they are his doing and his fault, I feel more hostile to him than to Caesar himself: just as our ancestors decided that the day of the battle of the Allia was more fatal than that of the capture of the city, because the latter evil was the result of the former; and accordingly the one day is even now regarded as accursed, while the other is generally unknown—so I, remembering the errors of ten years, among which was also that year which ruined me, without his defending me (not to put it more strongly), and being fully aware of the rashness, incompetence, and carelessness of the present management, felt my anger growing. But that is all forgotten now. It is of his kindness that I think, and also of my own position. I understand-later, indeed, than I could have wished, thanks to the letters and conversations of Balbus—I see plainly, I repeat, that the one object now, nay, the one object from the beginning, was the death of Pompey. As for me, therefore, since Homer's hero, when his goddess mother said to him, "For next to Hector's death thy doom is fixed," answered his mother: “ Death, then! since fate allowed me not to save
The friend I loved.
” ¹¹³ What should I do for one who was not merely a "friend," but a "benefactor" also? One, too, of such a great character, and engaged in such a great cause? Why, in truth, I regard such duties as worth the loss of life. In your Optimates, however, I have no sort of confidence, and henceforth do not devote myself either to their service. I see how they are surrendering themselves to Caesar, and will continue to do so in the future. Do you suppose that those decrees of the municipalities as to Pompey's illness ¹¹⁴ are to be compared with these congratulations now offered to Caesar on his victory? "All terror," you will say. Yes, but they themselves assert that they were alarmed on the former occasion. However, let us wait to see what has happened at Brundisium, Perhaps from that may come a change of plan and in the tone of my letters.

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CCCLIX (A IX, 6)

NOTHING as yet from Brundisium. Balbus has written from Rome that he thinks that the consul Lentulus has by this time crossed, and that the younger Balbus did not succeed in getting an interview with him; because the young man heard this news at Canusium, and had written to him from that town. He says, too, that the six cohorts which were at Alba had joined Curius by the Minucian road : ¹¹⁵ that Caesar had written to tell him that, and he would himself be shortly at the city. Therefore I shall follow your advice, and shall not go into hiding at Arpinum at the present time, although, as I wished to give my son his toga virilis ¹¹⁶ at Arpinum, I contemplated leaving this excuse for Caesar. But perhaps that very thing would offend him—"Why not at Rome rather?" And after all, if meet him I must, I would rather it were here than anywhere. Then I shall consider the rest, that is, whither and by what road and when I am to go. Domitius, I hear, is at Cosa, ready, too, I am told, to set sail: if to Spain I don't approve, if to join Gnaeus I commend him: he had better go anywhere than have to see Curtius, ¹¹⁷ of whom, though his patron, I cannot stand the sight. What, then, am I to say of the rest? But, I suppose, we had better keep quiet, lest we prove our own error, who, while loving the city, that is, our country, and while thinking that the matter would be patched up, have so managed matters as to be completely intercepted and made prisoners.

I had written thus far when a letter arrived from Capua, as follows: “Pompey has crossed the sea with all the men he had with him. The total is 30,000; besides the consuls, two tribunes of the plebs, and the senators who were with him, all with wives and children. He is said to have embarked on the 4th of March. Since that day the north wind has prevailed. They say that he disabled or burnt all such ships as he did not use.”

On this subject a letter has been received at Capua by L. Metellus, the tribune, from his mother-in-law Clodia, who has herself crossed. I was anxious and full of pain before, as, of course, the bare facts of the case compelled, when I found myself unable to unravel the mystery by any consideration; but now, when Pompey and the consuls have left Italy, I am not merely pained, I am burning with indignation: “ Reason deserts her throne,
And I am torn with grief.
” ¹¹⁸

Believe me, I really am beside myself to think of the dishonour I have brought upon myself. That I, in the first place, should not be with Pompey, whatever plan he has followed, nor, in the second place, with the loyalists, however imprudently managed their cause! Especially, too, when those very persons, for whose sake I was somewhat timid in trusting myself to fortune-wife, daughter, son, and nephew-prefered that I should follow that design, and thought that my present plan was discreditable and unworthy of me. For, as to my brother Quintus, whatever I determined upon he said that he considered right, and he accepted it with the most absolute acquiescence.

I am reading over your letters from the beginning of the business. They somewhat relieve me. The earliest ones warn and entreat me not to be precipitate. The next indicate that you are glad that I stayed. Whilst reading themI feel less base, but only while I read them. Presently grief and the "vision of shame" rises again. Wherefore, my dear Titus, pray pluck out this sorrow from my mind, or at least mitigate it by consoling words or advice, or by anything you can. But what could you or any human being do? It is now almost beyond the power of God.

For my part, my object now, as you advise and think possible, is to obtain leave from Caesar to absent myself when any motion is being made against Pompey in the senate. But I fear I may not obtain the concession. Furnius has arrived from Caesar. To shew you the sort of men we are following, he tells me that the son of Q. Titinius is with Caesar, but that the latter thanks me even more than I could wish. What, however, it is that he asks of me, expressed indeed, for his part, in few words, but still en grand seigneur, you may learn from his own letter. How distressed I am at your ill-health: if we had only been together, you would at least not have wanted advice. For "two heads," you know. ¹¹⁹ But don't let us cry over spilt milk : ¹²⁰ let us do better for the future. Up to this time I have been mistaken in two particulars: at the beginning I hoped for peace, and, if that were once gained, was prepared to be content with the life of a private citizen, and an old age freed from anxiety: and later, I found that a bloody and destructive war was being undertaken by Pompey. Upon my honour, I thought it shewed a better man and a better citizen to suffer any punishment whatever rather than, I don't say to lead, but even to take part in such bloody work. I think it would have been better even to die than to be with such men. I shall bear any result with greater courage than such a pain.

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CCCLX (A IX, 4)

Although any feeling of repose is for me confined to the time I spend in writing to you or reading a letter from you, yet I am myself at a loss for a subject for my letters, and I feel certain that the same is the case with you. For the topics usually filling familiar letters, written with an easy mind, are excluded by the critical nature of these times; while those connected with the crisis we have already worn threadbare. Nevertheless, not to surrender myself wholly to sorrowful reflexions, I have selected certain theses, so to speak, which have at once a general bearing on a citizen's duty, and a particular relation to the present crisis: “

”

By keeping myself at work on questions such as these, and discussing both sides both in Greek and Latin, I at once distract my mind for a time from its anxieties, and at the same time attempt the solution of a problem now very much to the point. But I fear you may find me unseasonable; for if the bearer of this keeps up the proper pace, it will reach you exactly on your ague day.

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CCCLXI (A IX, 7)

I wrote you a letter on the 12th of March, but the messenger to whom I intended to give it did not start on that day. But there did arrive that very day that "swiftfoot" mentioned by Salvius. He brought me your full and very interesting letter, which did, so to speak, put just a drop of life into me: for wholly restored I can't say that I am. But you have clearly done the main thing. Yes, believe me, a prosperous issue for me is not now my aim at all: for I see plainly that we can never have our constitution, either while these two men are both alive, or with this one remaining. Accordingly, I no longer entertain any hope of repose for myself, nor refuse to contemplate any amount of sorrow. The one thing I do positively dread is doing, or, I should say, having done anything dishonourable. So be assured that your letter was wholesome for me, and I don't only mean this longer one-the most explicit and complete possible—but also the shorter one, in which what gave me the most intense pleasure was the statement that my policy and action had the approval of Sextus. I am exceedingly obliged to you, of whose affection to myself and keen sense of what is right I am well aware. ¹²²

Your longer letter, indeed, relieved not only myself, but all my party from painful feelings. So I will follow your advice and remain at Formiae: I shall thus avoid the scandal of a meeting with him outside the city, or, if I see him neither here nor there, giving him the impression of his having been intentionally avoided by me. As to your advice to ask him to allow me to shew the same consideration for Pompey, as I have shewn to himself—that you will see from the letters of Balbus and Oppius, of which I sent you copies, I have been doing all the time. I send you also Caesar's letter to them, written in quite a sane frame of mind, considering the insanity of the whole business. If, on the other hand, Caesar will not make this concession to me, I see your opinion is that my rôle should be that of the peacemaker. In this it is not the danger that I fear—for with so many hanging over my head, why not settle the matter by choosing the most honourable ?-but what I do fear is embarrassing Pompey; and that he should turn upon me “The monster Gorgon's petrifying glare.” ¹²³ For our friend Pompey has set his heart to a surprising degree on imitating Sulla's reign. I am not speaking without book, I assure you. He never made less of a secret of anything. "With such a man," you will say, "do you wish to be associated?" I follow personal obligation, not the cause: as I did in the case of Milo, and in—but there is no need to go into that. "Is not the cause, then, a good one?" Nay, the best: but it will be conducted, remember, in the most criminal way. The first plan is to choke off the city and Italy by starving them; the next, to devastate the country with sword and fire, and not to keep their hands off the money of the wealthy. But seeing that I fear the same from Caesar's side, without any good to be got on Pompey's, I think my better course is to stay at home, and there await whatever comes. Yet I hold myself to be under so great an obligation to him, that I do not venture to incur the charge of ingratitude. However, you have yourself fully stated what is to he said in defence of that course.

As to the triumph, I quite agree with you: it will not cost me a moment's hesitation or a pang to throw it utterly aside. I much like your idea that, while I am moving about the country, "the moment for sailing " ¹²⁴ may suddenly present itself. " If only," say you, "Pompey shews a resolute front enough." He is even more resolute than I thought. You may pin your faith on him. I promise you that, if he wins, he will not leave a tile on any roof in Italy! "You his ally, then?" Yes, by Hercules, against my own judgment, and against the warnings of all history; and—not so much to help his side, as to avoid seeing what is going on here—I am anxious to quit the country. For pray don't imagine that the mad proceedings of the party in Italy will be endurable or all of one kind. I need hardly, however, point out to you, that when laws, jurors, law courts, and senate are abolished, neither the fortunes of individuals nor the revenues of the state will suffice for the licentious desires, the shameless demands, the extravagances, and the necessities of so many men in the lowest depths of poverty. Let me depart, therefore, never mind by what kind of voyage-that, indeed, shall be as you please—but anyhow let me depart. For I, at least, shall be able to satisfy your curiosity on one point, as to what has been done at Brundisium. I am very glad-if one can be glad of anything now—to hear that my conduct up to this has the approval of the loyalists, and that they are aware of my not having started. As to Lentulus, I will make more careful inquiry: I have given orders about it to Philotimus, a man of courage and even too strong an Optimate. The last thing I have to say is this: supposing you are now at a loss for something to write about—for any other subject is out of the question, and what more can be found to say on this ?-yet, as there is no lack of ability (I mean it, by Heaven!) or affection on your part, which latter also adds a spur to my own intellect, pray maintain your practice of writing all you possibly can. I am a little vexed at your not inviting me to Epirus; I shouldn't give much trouble as a guest! But good-bye; for as you must have your walk and anointing, so I must have some sleep. In fact, your letter has made sleep possible for me.

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CCCLXII (A IX, 8)

As we were at dinner on the 14th, and after nightfall indeed, Statius arrived with a short letter from you. You ask about L. Torquatus: not only Lucius, but Aulus also, has left the country, the latter a good many days ago. You mention the sale of prisoners at Reate: I am sorry that the seeds of a proscription should be sown in the Sabine district. I too had been informed that there were numerous senators at Rome. Can you give any reason why they ever left town? In these parts there is a notion-founded on conjecture rather than on message or despatch—that Caesar will be at Formiae on the 22nd of March. I could wish I had Homer's Minerva here disguised as Mentor, to say to her: "How shall I go then, O Mentor, and how shall I bear me before him?" ¹²⁵ I never had a harder problem to solve. Still I am trying to solve it, and I shall not be unprepared as far as is possible in a bad business. But look after your health, for I reckon that yesterday was your ague day.

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CCCLXIII (A IX, 9)

I RECEIVED three letters from you on the 16th of March. They were dated on the 12th, 13th, and 14th. So I will answer each in its order of time. I quite agree with you in thinking Formiae the best of all places for me to stay. I also agree with you about the Upper Sea, and I am very desirous, as I told you in a previous letter, to discover how I may without annoying Caesar avoid taking any part whatever in the conduct of public affairs. You praise me for saying that I put away the memory of my friend's past and his shortcomings. I really do so: nay, I even forget those very injuries inflicted by him upon myself which you mention. So much more influence do I choose gratitude for kindness to have with me, than resentment for injury. Let me act, then, according to your opinion, and summon up all my energies. The fact is, I am philosophizing all the time I am riding about the country, and in the course of my expeditions I never cease meditating on my theses. But some of them are very difficult of solution. As to the Optiinates, be it as you will: but you know the proverb, "Dionysius at Corinth." ¹²⁶ The son of Titinius is with Caesar. ¹²⁷ You seem to have a kind of fear that I do not like your counsels: the fact, however, is that nothing else gives me any pleasure except your advice and your letters. Pray, therefore, keep to your word: do not cease writing to me whatever occurs to you: you can do me no greater favour.

I now come to your second. You are quite right to be incredulous about the number of Pompey's men. Clodia just doubled them in her letter. ¹²⁸ It was all a lie also about disabling the ships. You praise the consuls: so do I as far as their spirit is concerned, but I blame their policy. For by their departure the negotiation for peace was rendered impossible, which I for one was meditating. Accordingly, after this I sent you back Demetrius's book "On Concord," and gave it to Philotimus. Nor have I any doubt left of a murderous war impending, which will begin with a famine. And yet I am vexed that I am not taking part in such a war! A war in which wickedness is certain to attain such dimensions, that, whereas it is a crime not to support one's parents, our leaders will think themselves entitled to starve to death the supreme and holiest of parents-their country! And this fear is not with me a matter of conjecture: I have heard their actual words. The whole object of collecting this fleet from Alexandria, Colchis, Tyre, Sidon, Aradus, Cyprus, Pamphylia, Lycia, Rhodes, Chios, Byzantium, Lesbos, Zmyrna, Miletus, Cos, ¹²⁹ is to intercept the supplies of Italy and blockade the Corn—growing provinces. Then, again, in what a state of anger will Pompey come! and especially with the very men most anxious for his safety, as though he had been abandoned by those whom he, in fact, abandoned himself. Accordingly, in my state of doubt as to what it is right for me to do, my feeling of obligation to Pompey becomes a very weighty motive: if that feeling were away, it were better in my eyes to perish in my country, than to ruin it in the attempt to save it. About the north wind it is clearly as you say: I am afraid Epirus may be harassed. But what part of Greece do you suppose will not be plundered? For Pompey gives out openly, and demonstrates to his soldiers, that he will outdo Caesar even in his liberality. It is an excellent suggestion of yours that, when I do see Caesar, I should not speak with too much tolerance, but rather with a grave severity. I clearly ought to do so. I am thinking of Arpinum, but not till I have had my meeting with him; thus avoiding being absent when he arrives, or having to hurry backwards and forwards along a detestably bad road. I am told, as you say in your letter, that Bibulus has arrived and started back again on the I4th. ¹³⁰ You were expecting Philotimus, you say in your third letter. But he only left me on the 15th. That was why you got my letter in reply to yours rather late, though I wrote the answer at once. I agree with what you say about Domitius—he is at Cosa, and no one knows what his design is. Yes, that basest, meanest fellow in the world, who says that a consular election can be held by a praetor, is the same as he always was in constitutional matters. ¹³¹ So of course that was what Caesar meant by saying in the letter, of which I sent you a copy, ¹³² "that he wished to avail himself of my advice , (well, well! that is a mere generality), "of my popularity" (that's empty flattery— but I suppose he adopts that tone with a view to my influencing certain senatorial votes), "of my position" (perhaps he means my vote as a consular). He finishes up by saying "of my help in every particular." I had already begun to suspect from your letter that this was the real meaning of it, or something very like it. For it is of great importance to him that there should not be an interregnum: and that he secures, if the consuls are "created" by the praetor. However, it is on record in our augural books that, so far from consuls being legally capable of being created by a praetor, the praetors themselves cannot be so created, and that there is no precedent for it: that it is illegal in case of the consuls, because it is not legal for the greater imperium to be proposed to the people by the less; in case of the praetors, because their names are submitted to the people as colleagues of the consuls, to whom belongs the greater imperium. Before long he will be demanding that my vote in the college should be given, and he won't be content with Galba, Scaevola, Cassius, and Antonius: “Then let the wide earth gape and swallow me ” ¹³³ But you see what a storm is impending. Which of the senators have crossed the sea I will tell you when I know for certain. About the corn-supply you are quite right, it cannot possibly be managed without a revenue: and you have good reason for fearing the clamorous demands of Pompey's entourage, and an unnatural war. I should much like to see my friend Trebatius, though, as you say, he is in despair about everything. Pray urge him to make haste and come: for it will be a great convenience to see him before Caesar's arrival. ¹³⁴ As to the property at Lanuvium, as soon as I heard of Phamea's death, I conceived the wish-provided the constitution was to survive—that some one of my friends should buy it, yet I never thought of you, the greatest of my friends. For I knew that you usually wanted to know how many years' purchase it was worth, and what was the value of the fixtures, and I had seen your digamma ¹³⁵ not only at Rome, but also at Delos. After all, however, I value it, pretty as it is, at less price than it was valued in the consulship of Marcellinus, ¹³⁶ when I thought-owing to the house I possessed at that time at Antium—that those little pleasure-grounds would suit me better, and be less expensive, than repairing my Tusculan house. I was then willing to give 500 sestertia (about £4,000) for them. I made an offer through a third person, which he refused, when he was putting it up for sale at Antium. But in these days I presume all such properties are gone down in value, owing to the dearness of money. It will suit me exactly, or rather us, if you buy it. But don't be put off by the late owner's follies: it is really a lovely place. However, all such properties appear to me to be now doomed to desolation. I have answered your three letters, but am expecting others. For up to this time it is letters from you that have kept me going.

The Liberalia (17th March).

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CCCLXIV (A IX, 10)

I have nothing to write about: for I have heard no news and I answered all your letters yesterday. But as uneasiness of mind not only deprives me of sleep, but prevents my even keeping awake without extreme pain, I have begun this letter to you—I can't tell what about, and I have no subject to hand—that I may in a manner have a talk with you, the one thing which gives me any repose. I think I have been a fool from the beginning, and the one thing that torments me is that I did not follow Pompey, like any private in the ranks, when, in every part of his policy, he was losing his footing, or rather rushing headlong to ruin. On the 17th of January I could see that he was thoroughly frightened. On that very day I detected his design. From that moment he forfeited my confidence, and never ceased committing one blunder after another. Meanwhile, never a line to me; no thought of anything but flight. Need I say more? As in love affairs men lose all fancy for women who are dirty, stupid, and indelicate, even so, the indecency of his flight and mismanagement put me off from my love for him. For in no respect was he acting in a way to make it proper for me to join his flight. Now love again rises: now my regret for him is more than I can bear: now I can get no good out of books, literature, or philosophy. So earnestly as I gaze across the sea, do I long, like Plato's bird, to fly away. ¹³⁷ I am being punished, indeed I am, for my rashness. Yet what did that rashness amount to? What have I done without the most anxious consideration? If his only object had been flight, I could have fled with the utmost pleasure, but it was the nature of the war, beyond measure sanguinary and widespread, the future of which men do not yet realize, that I shrank from with horror. What threats to the towns, to individual loyalists personally, to everybody, in fact, who stayed in Rome! How often did I hear" Sulla could do it, why not I?" For myself I was haunted with the reflexions: it was unrighteous of Tarquinius to stir up Porsena and Octavius Mamilius against his country; impious in Coriolanus to seek aid from the Volsci; righteous in Themistocles to prefer death; Hippias, son of Pisistratus, who fell in the battle of Marathon bearing arms against his country, was Criminal. But it may be said that Sulla, Marius, and Cinna had right on their side: rather I should perhaps admit that they had a technical justification; yet what could be more cruel and bloody than their use of victory? It was the nature of the war that I shrank from, and the more so because I saw that even bloodier work was being imagined and prepared. I—whom some called the preserver of this city, some its parent—I to bring against it armies of the Getae, Armenians, and Colchians! I to inflict famine on my fellow citizens, devastation upon Italy! Caesar, to begin with, I reflected was mortal, and in the next place might also come to an end in many ways: but the City and our people I thought ought to be preserved, as far as in us lay, for ever: and, after all, I pleased myself by hoping that some accommodation would be reached rather than the one of these men commit such a crime, or the other such an abomination. The matter is now wholly changed, and so are my feelings. The sun, as you said in one of your letters, seems to me to have disappeared from the universe. As in the case of a sick man one says, "While there is life there is hope," so, as long as Pompey was in Italy, I did not cease to hope. It is the present situation, the present, I say, that has baffled my calculations. And to confess the truth, my age, now after my long day's labour sloping towards an evening of repose, has relaxed my energies by suggesting the charms of family life. But now, however dangerous the experiment of attempting to fly hence, that experiment shall at least be made. I ought, perhaps, to have done so before. But the considerations I have mentioned held me back, and above all things your influence. For when I got to this point in my letter, I unrolled the volume of your letters, which I keep under seal and preserve with the greatest care. Now there were in the letter dated by you the 21st of January the following expression: "But let us first see what Gnaeus is about, and in what direction his plans are drifting. Now, if he does abandon Italy, he will be acting certainly improperly, and, in my opinion, unwisely too. But it will be time enough, when he does that, to make a change in our policy." This you write on the fourth day after our quitting the city Next on the 23rd of January: "May our friend Gnaeus only not abandon Italy, as he has unwisely done Rome !" On the same day you write a second letter, in which you answer my application for advice in the plainest terms. This is what you say: "To come to the point on which you ask my opinion If Gnaeus quits Italy, I think you should return to the city: for what limit can there be to such a trip abroad as that?" This is what I could not get over: and I now see that attached to a most humiliating flight, which you euphemistically call a "trip abroad," is an unlimited war. Then follows your prophecy of the 25th of January: "If Pompey remains in Italy, and no terms are come to, I think there will be an unusually long war: but if he abandons Italy, I think that there awaits us in the future a really 'truceless' war." It is in such a war, then, that I am forced to be an abettor-one that is both truceless and with fellow citizens. Again, on the 7th of February, when you had heard more particulars of Pompey's designs, you end a certain letter thus; "For my part, if Pompey quits Italy, I should not advise your doing the same. For you will be running a very great risk and be doing no good to the Republic, to which you may be of some service hereafter if you remain." What patriot or statesman would not such advice, backed by the weight of wisdom and friendship, have moved? Next, on the 11th of February, you again answer my request for advice thus: "You ask me whether I advise flight, or defend delay, and consider it the better course: for the present, indeed, my opinion is that a sudden departure and hurried start would be, both for yourself and Gnaeus useless and dangerous, and I think it better that you should be separate and each on his own watchtower. But, on my honour, I think it disgraceful for us to be thinking of flight!" This "disgraceful" measure our friend Gnaeus had contemplated two years ago: for so long a time past has his mind been set on playing the Sulla and indulging in proscriptions. Then, as I think, after you had written to me again in somewhat more general terms, and I had taken certain expressions of yours as advising me to leave Italy, you warmly disavow any such meaning on the 19th of February. "I certainly have not indicated in any letter of mine that, if Gnaeus quits Italy, you should do so with him: or, if I did so express myself, I was, I don't say inconsistent, but mad." In another passage of the same letter you say: "Nothing is left for him but flight, in which I do not think, and never have thought, that you, should share." This whole question again you discuss in greater detail in a letter of the 22nd of February: "If M. Lepidus and L. Volcatius stay, I think you should stay also: with the understanding, however, that, if Pompey survives and makes a stand anywhere, you should leave this inferno, and be more content to be beaten in the contest along with him, than reign with Caesar in the sink of iniquity which will evidently prevail here." You adduce many arguments to support this opinion. Then at the end you say: "What if Lepidus and Volcatius depart? In that case I doubt. So I think you must acquiesce in whatever happens and whatever you have done." If you had felt doubt before, you have now, at any rate, no hesitation, since those two are still in Italy. Again, when the flight had become an accomplished fact, on the 25th of February: "Meanwhile, I feel no doubt you had better remain at Formiae. That will be the most suitable place for waiting to see what turns up." On the 1st of March, when Pompey had been four days at Brundisium: "We shall be able to deliberate then no longer, it is true, with quite free hands, but certainly less fatally committed than if you had taken the great plunge in his company." Then on the 4th of March, though writing briefly, because it was the eve of your attack of ague, you yet use this expression: "I will write at greater length tomorrow; however, speaking generally, I will say this—that I do not repent my advice as to your staying, and though with great anxiety, yet, because I think it involves less evil than your starting would do, I abide by my opinion and rejoice that you have stayed." Moreover, when I was now in great pain, and was fearing that I had been guilty of a base act, on the 5th of March you say: "After all, I am not sorry that you are not with Pompey. Hereafter, if it turns out to be necessary, there will be no difficulty: and at whatever time it takes place, it will be welcome to him. But I speak on the understanding that, if Caesar goes on as he has begun, and acts with sincerity, moderation, and wisdom, I shall have thoroughly to reconsider the position, and to look with greater care into what is for our advantage to do." On the 9th of March you say that our friend Peducaeus also approves of my having kept quiet; and his opinion has great weight with me. From these expressions in your letters I console myself with the belief that as yet I have done no wrong. Only pray justify your advice. There is no need to do so as far as I am concerned, but I want others to be in the same boat as myself. If I have done nothing wrong in the past, I will maintain the same blamelessness in the future. Only pray continue your exhortation that direction, and assist me by communicating your thoughts. Nothing has as yet been heard here about Caesar's return. For myself, I have got thus much good by writing this letter: I have read through all yours, and have found repose in that.

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CCCLXV (A IX, 11 a)

ON reading your letter, handed to me by our friend Furnius, in which you ask me to come to the city walls, I was not so much surprised at your wishing "to avail yourself of my advice and position," but what you meant by speaking of my "influence and assistance" I did ask myself. My thoughts, however, were so far dominated by my hope, that I was induced to think that you wished to consult for the tranquillity, peace, and harmony of our fellow citizens: and for a policy of that kind I regarded both my natural disposition and my public character as sufficiently well adapted. If this is the case, and if you are at all anxious to preserve our common friend Pompey, and to reconcile him to yourself and the Republic, you will assuredly find no one better calculated than myself for supporting such measures. For, as soon as opportunity offered, I pleaded for peace both to him and the senate; nor since the commencement of hostilities have I taken any part whatever in the war; and I have held the opinion that by that war you are being wronged, in that men who were hostile to and jealous of you were striving to prevent your enjoying an office granted you by the favour of the Roman people. ¹³⁸ But as at that period I was not only personally a supporter of your rights, but also advised everybody else to assist you, so at the present moment I am strongly moved by consideration for the position of Pompey. It is now a good number of years ago since I picked out you two as the special objects of my political devotion, and—as you still are of my warm personal affection. Wherefore I ask you, or rather entreat you, and appeal to you with every form of prayer, that in the midst of your very great preoccupations you would yet spare some part of your time to reflect how by your kindness I may be enabled to do what goodness and gratitude, and, in point of fact, natural affection demand, by remembering the extreme obligation under which I stand. If these considerations only affected myself, I should yet have hoped to secure your assent; but, in my opinion, it concerns both your own honour and the public interest that I-a friend to peace and to you both-should, as far as you are concerned, be maintained in a position best calculated to promote harmony between you and among our fellow citizens.

Though I have thanked you before in regard to Lentulus, ¹³⁹ for saving the man who saved me, yet after reading a letter from him, in which he speaks with the utmost gratitude of your generous treatment and kindness to him, I felt that the safety you gave him was given to me also: and if you perceive my gratitude in his case, pray take means to allow me to shew the same in the case of Pompey.

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CCCLXVI (A IX, 11)

Do you know that our friend Lentulus is at Puteoli? Having been told this by a passer-by, who said that he had recognized him on the Appia upon his partly drawing the curtain of his sedan, though it was in itself probable, I yet sent some servants to Puteoli to inquire and take him a letter. He was discovered with some difficulty, as he was keeping himself concealed in his villa, and he sent me back an answer containing wonderful expressions of gratitude to Caesar; but as to his own plans he said that he had given C. Caecius a message for me. I am expecting him today, that is, the 20th of March. Matius ¹⁴⁰ also came to see me on the Quinquatrus (19th of March), a man, by Hercules, as he seemed to me, of moderate and sensible views. Certainly he has always been regarded as a promoter of peace. How strongly he appealed to me to disapprove what, is going on in Italy! How fearful of that inferno, as you call it! In the course of a long conversation I shewed him Caesar's letter to me, the one of which I have sent you a copy before, and asked him to explain the sentence in it—"he wished to avail himself of my advice, influence, position, and help in all ways." He replied that he had no doubt that he wanted my help and my influence for effecting a pacification. I only wish I could effect and carry through some politic move in the present distressing circumstances of the state! For his part, Matius felt confident that that was Caesar's feeling, and promised that he would promote it. However, on the day previous Crassipes had been with me, who said that he had quitted Brundisium on the 6th of March and had left Pompey there: and the same news was brought also by those who quitted that place on the 8th. They one and all, even Crassipes—who is a sensible enough man to take note of what was going on—tell the same story of threatening speeches, alienation from the Optimates, hostility to the municipal towns, undisguised proscriptions—Sullas pure and simple. What things Lucceius says, and the whole posse of Greeks, and Theophanes at their head! And yet there is no hope of safety except in them: and I am keeping my mind on the watch, and passing sleepless nights, and yearning to be with men exactly the opposite of myself, in order to escape the abominations going on here! For there—what crime do you suppose Scipio, Faustus, Libo will stick at, whose creditors are said to be actually arranging to sell them up? What do you suppose they are likely to do to the citizens, if they turn out the winning side? ¹⁴¹ Moreover, what a poltroon our Gnaeus is! They tell me he is thinking of Egypt, Arabia Felix, and Mesopotamia, and has now quite abandoned Spain. The reports are outrageous, but they may possibly be untrue: yet at best all is lost here, and far from safe there. I am beginning to pine for a letter from you. Since our flight there has never been so long a break in them. I send you a copy of my letter to Caesar, ¹⁴² by which I think I shall do some good.

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CCCLXVII (A IX, 12)

I HAD just read your letter on the 20th, when a packet was brought me from Lepta saying that Pompey had been completely invested, that even the channels of the harbour were blocked up with vessels. Upon my honour, tears prevent my thinking of or writing the rest. I send you a copy. What wretches we have been! Why did we not follow his fortunes to the end? Oh, here's the same news from Matius and Trebatius,who have been met by Caesar's letter-bearers at Minturnae. I feel so wracked with misery that I long for an end like that of Mucius. ¹⁴³ Yet how honourable, how clear is your advice, how thoroughly thought out, in regard to my journey by land as well as by sea, and my meeting and conversation with Caesar! There is honour and caution alike in every word. Your invitation to Epirus, too, how kindly, how courteous, how brotherly it is! I am surprised at Dionysius, who has been treated with greater honour in my family than Panaetius was in Scipio's: yet my unfortunate position has been regarded by him with the foulest contempt. I detest the fellow, and always shall. I only wish I could be even with him! But his own character will be his punishment. Yes, pray, now of all times turn over in your mind what I ought to do. An army of the Roman people is actually surrounding Gnaeus Pompeius: it has inclosed him with foss and palisade; it is preventing his escape. Are we alive? Is our city still intact? Are the praetors presiding in the courts, the aediles making preparations for their games, the Optimates entering their investments, I myself sitting quietly looking on? Am I to make an effort to reach Pompey like a madman? Am I to appeal to the loyalty of the municipal towns? The loyalists won't follow me, the careless will laugh me to scorn, the revolutionists-especially now that they are successful and fully armed-will use main force to me. What is your opinion, then? Have you any advice to give as to how to put an end to this most wretched state of existence? It is now that I feel the pang, the torture—now that some one is found to think me either wise or lucky for not having gone. My feeling is the reverse. For while I was never willing to be the partner of his victory, I should have preferred having been associated with his disaster. Why, then, should I now appeal to your letter, to your wisdom, or your kindness? It is all over. Nothing can help me now: for I have now nothing even to wish for, except to be set free by some merciful stroke of the enemy.

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CCCLXVIII (A IX, 13)

"'Tis no true tale " ¹⁴⁴ —as I think—that about the ships. ¹⁴⁵ For in that case what would have been the meaning of Dolabella's words in his letter, dated from Brundisium on the 13th of March, when he mentioned it as a success on the part of Caesar that Pompey was in full retreat, and was going to sail with the first favourable wind? This is quite inconsistent with those letters, of which I have already sent you copies. Here, indeed, they talk of nothing but disaster. But we have no more recent authority, and of this particular fact no better one, than Dolabella.

I have received your letter of the 22nd of March, in which you propose to postpone all plans till we know what has happened. Of course that is quite right: and meanwhile it is impossible not merely to settle but even to consider any plan. However, this letter of Dolabella's inclines me to recur to my original ideas. For on the day before the Quinquatrus (18th of March) the weather was splendid, and I suppose he has taken advantage of it. That précis of your advice was not made by me by way of reproach to you, but rather to console myself. For the evils of the time were not causing me so much vexation, as the idea of my having done wrong and acted rashly. I have now got rid of that idea, since my actions and plans coincide with your suggestions. You remark in your letter that it is rather my avowal of Pompey's services, than the actual amount of them, that makes me seem to be under an obligation to him. That is true: I have always magnified them, and the more so that I might prevent his thinking that I remembered his earlier conduct. However much I might remember this, I should yet be bound to follow the example he set at that time. ¹⁴⁶ He gave me no aid when he might have done so. True: but afterwards he was my friend, and a very warm one, I don't at all know why. Therefore I too will be his friend. Nay, more, there is this analogy in our two cases, that we have been betrayed by the same people. But oh, that it had been in my power to render him as important a service, as he was able to render me! After all, I am exceedingly grateful for what he did; yet, at the present moment, I neither know how to help him, nor, if I could, should I think I ought to assist him while preparing to engage on such an execrable war. Only I don't wish to hurt his feelings by remaining here. I should neither have the resolution, by Hercules! to watch the events, which you can even now foresee in imagination, nor to take part in those unhappy measures. But I was all the slower to depart, from the difficulty of imagining a voluntary departure when there is no hope of a return. For I see that Caesar is so well equipped with infantry, cavalry, fleets, and Gallic auxiliaries. About these last I suppose Matius was talking big, but he certainly said that 10,000 infantry and 6,ooo cavalry promised their services at their own expense for ten years. But grant this to be gasconnade. He certainly has great forces, and he will not merely have the revenue of Italy, but the property of the citizens. Add to this the man's own self-confidence and the weakness of the loyalists, who, in fact, because they think Pompey deservedly enraged with them, have, as you expressed it, become disgusted with the game. Yes, but I could have wished that you had indicated who these men were. The fact is that Caesar, because he has done much less than he threatened, is regarded with affection ; ¹⁴⁷ while in every direction those who loved Pompey now cease to do so. The municipal towns, in fact, and the Romans living in the country fear Pompey, and are still attached to Caesar. Accordingly, the latter is so well prepared that, even if he proves unable to win a victory, I yet cannot see how he can be beaten himself. For myself, I am not so much afraid of Caesar's sorcery, as of his power of compulsion. "For the requests of tyrants," as Plato says,"you know, partake of the nature of commands." ¹⁴⁸

I see you don't like a place of residence for me without a port. Neither do I: but the fact is I have there both a means of concealment and a trusty band of followers. If I could have had the same at Brundisium, I should have preferred it. But concealment is impossible there. However, as you say, when we know! I am not very careful to excuse myself to, the loyalists. For what dinners they are giving and attending, according to Sextus's letter to me! How splendid, how early! ¹⁴⁹ But let them be as loyalist as they please, they are not more so than we are. I should have cared more for their opinion, if they had shewn more courage.

I was wrong about Phamea's estate at Lanuvium. I was dreaming of one near Troja. ¹⁵⁰ I wanted it for Quintus; but it is too dear. I should, however, have liked to buy that one, if I had seen any prospect of enjoying it. What, frightful news we are reading every day you will understand from the small roll inclosed in this packet. Our friend Lentulus is at Puteoli, distracted with doubt, he too, as Caecius tells me, as to what to do. He is in terror of a contretemps like that at Corfinium. ¹⁵¹ He thinks that he had done his duty to Pompey, and is affected by Caesar's magnanimous treatment, but still more, after all, by the outlook in the future.

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CCCLXIX (A IX, 13 a)

Caesar has sent me a very short note, of which I append a copy. From the shortness of the letter you will be able to gather that he is much occupied, or he would not have written so briefly on so important a subject. If I get any farther intelligence I will at once write you word. “

”

You can imagine, my dear Cicero, my state of torturing anxiety, after having again conceived some hope of peace, lest any circumstance should prevent their coming to terms. For I earnestly wish it, which is all I can do at this distance. If I were only there, I might perhaps possibly seem of some use in the matter; as it is, I am wracked with anxious suspense.

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CCCLXX (A XI, 13 § 8)

Can you endure this? It is a lamentable business altogether, but nothing can be more lamentable than this: Pompey has sent N. Magius to negotiate a peace, and yet is being besieged. I could not have believed it, but I have a letter from Balbus, of which I inclose a copy. Read it, I beg of you, and especially the last clause of the excellent Balbus himself, to whom our Gnaeus presented a site for a suburban villa, and whom he often preferred, did he not? to everyone of us! Accordingly, the poor man is in a state of painful anxiety. But to save you the trouble of reading the same thing twice, I refer you to the letter itself. Hope of peace, however, I have none. Dolabella in his letter dated the 15th of March breathes nothing but war. Let us stick, then, to the same resolution, formed in sorrow and despair, since nothing can be more lamentable than this.

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CCCLXXI (A IX, 14)

I had sent you, on the 24th of March, a copy of a letter from Balbus to me and of Ceasar's to him. Lo and behold, on the same day I receive a letter from Q. Pedius, from Capua, telling me that Caesar had written to him on the 14th of March in the following words: "Pompey keeps himself in the town. Our camp is at the gates. We are attempting a difficult operation, and one which will occupy many days, owing to the depth of the sea; but nevertheless it is the best thing for us to do. We are throwing out moles from both headlands at the mouth of the harbour, in order to compel Pompey to take the forces he has at Brundisium across as soon as possible, or to prevent his getting out at all." ¹⁵³

Where is the peace, as to which Balbus said that he was in a state of anxiety? Could there be anything more vindictive, more ruthless? Moreover, a certain person told me on good authority that Caesar gives out that he is avenging Cn. Carbo, M. Brutus, ¹⁵⁴ and all those on whom Sulla, with Pompey's assistance, had wreaked his cruelty; that Curio was doing nothing under his leadership which Pompey had not done under Sulla's; that he was seeking the restoration of those whose exile had not been inflicted upon them by earlier laws, while Pompey had restored men who had been traitors to their country; that he complained of the violence used to secure Milo's exile, but that, nevertheless, he would harm no one unless he appeared in array against him.

This is the story told by a certain Baebius, who left Curio on the 13th, a man who is not without some sense, but yet not capable of inventing this out of his own head. I am quite at a loss what to do. From Brundisium, indeed, I suppose Pompey has already started. Whatever has happened, we shall know in two days. I haven't a line from you, not even by Anteros. No wonder: for what is there for us to write about? Nevertheless, I don't omit a single day.

P.S—After this letter was written, I got a letter from Lepta before daybreak dated from Capua on the 15th of March. Pompey has embarked from Brundisium, but Caesar will be at Capua on the 26th of March.

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CCCLXXII (A IX, 15)

AFTER I had despatched the letter informing you that Caesar would be at Capua on the 26th, I received one from Capua saying that he would be in Curio's Alban villa on the 28th. ¹⁵⁵ When I have seen him I shall go to Arpinum. If he grants me the indulgence I ask for, ¹⁵⁶ I shall avail myself of his terms: if not, I shall take my own line without consulting anyone but myself. ¹⁵⁷ Caesar, as he has informed me, has stationed a legion at Brundisium, Tarentum, and Sipontum respectively. He appears to me to be closing up exits by sea, and yet himself to have his eyes on Greece rather than on Spain. But these considerations are still remote. For the present I am at once excited by the idea of meeting him (and that is now close at hand), and alarmed as to his first political steps. For he will, I presume, want a decree of the senate, and also a decree of the augurs: we shall be hurried off to Rome or molested, if we hold aloof, with a view of either the praetor holding an election of consuls or naming a dictator, neither of which is constitutional. ¹⁵⁸ Although, if Sulla was able to secure being named dictator by an interrex, why should he not be able to do so? I see no way out of it, except either meeting the fate of Q. Mucius from the one, or of L. Scipio ¹⁵⁹ from the other. By the time you read this, I shall perhaps have had my interview with him. "Endure! still worse a fate" ¹⁶⁰ —no, not even my own old misfortune! In that case there was a hope of a speedy return, there was universal remonstrance. In the present instance I am eager to quit the country, with what hope of return I cannot ever conceive. Again, not only is there no remonstrance on the part of townsmen and countryfolk, but, on the contrary, they are actually afraid of Pompey as bloodthirsty and enraged. Nevertheless, nothing makes me more wretched than to have stayed here, and there is nothing that I more earnestly desire than to fly away, not so much to share in a war as in a flight. But you were for putting off all plans until such time as we knew what had happened at Brundisium. Well, we now know: but we are as undecided as ever. For I can scarcely hope that he will grant me this indulgence; although I have many fair pleas for obtaining it. However, I will at once send you a verbatim report of everything he says to me and I to him. Pray strive with all the affection you have for me to assist me by your caution and wisdom. Caesar is travelling hither at such a pace, that I am unable to have an interview even with Titus Rebilus, apparently, that he will go to Pompey, but he doesn't want to say so clearly. as I had settled upon doing. I have to conduct the whole business without preparation. Yet, as the hero in the Odyssey says: “Some my own heart, and some will God suggest.” ¹⁶¹ Whatever I do you shall know promptly. The demands of Caesar sent to Pompey and the consuls, for which you ask, I do not possess: nor did Lucius Caesar bring them in writing. ¹⁶² I sent you at the time an account from which you might gather what the demands were. Philippus is at Naples, Lentulus at Puteoli. As to Domitius, continue your inquiries as to where he is, and what he contemplates doing.

You say that I have written more bitterly about Dionysius than suits my character. See what an old-fashioned man I am! I thought, upon my honour, that you would be annoyed at this affair more than I was myself. For, besides the fact that I think you ought to be moved by an injury done me by anyone, this man has also in a certain sense outraged yourself in having behaved badly to me. But what account you should take of this it is for you to judge. However, in this matter I don't wish to lay any burden upon you. For my part, I always thought him half cracked, now I think him a scoundrel and a good-for-nothing besides: and yet, after all, not a worse enemy to me than to himself. What you said to Philargyrus was quite right: you certainly have a clear and good case in proving that I had been abandoned rather than had abandoned. When I had already despatched my letter on the 25th, the servants whom I had sent with Matius and Trebatius brought me a letter, of which this is a copy: “

”

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CCCLXXIII (A IX, 16)

Though I have nothing to write to you about, yet I send you this that I may not omit a single day. On the 27th it is announced that Caesar will stop at Sinuessa. I received a letter from him on the 26th, in which he now talks of looking forward to my "resources," not my "aid," ¹⁶³ as in his former letter. I had written to compliment him on the moderation of his conduct at Corfinium, and he answered me as follows: “

”

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CCCLXXIV (A IX, 17)

I am expecting Trebatius on the 27th, the day I write this letter. From his report and the letter from Matius I shall consider what line to take in my conversation with Caesar. What an unfortunate crisis! I feel no doubt that he will urge me to come to the city. For he ordered a notice to be put up at Formiae, among other places, that he desired a full meeting of the senate on the 1st. Well, then, ought I to refuse him? But why anticipate? I will write you word at once of all that occurs. I will judge from what he says whether I am to go to Arpinum or elsewhere. I want to give my son his toga virilis. I think of doing it there. Pray consider what should be my next step, for troubles have made me stupid. I should like to know from Curius whether you have received any news of Tiro. For to me Tiro has himself written in such a tone as to alarm me about his health. Those, too, who come from those parts report that he is in a critical condition. This anxiety, in the midst of my other great ones, gives me much uneasiness: for in my present position his services, as well as his fidelity, would have been of great advantage.

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CCCLXXV (A IX, 18)

I FOLLOWED your advice in both particulars: for I spoke in such a manner as rather to gain his respect than his thanks, and I stuck to the resolution of not going to Rome. I found myself mistaken in one respect—in thinking that he would be easily satisfied. I never saw anything less so. He kept remarking that he was condemned by my decision, that the rest would be the slower to come, if I did not do so. I remarked that their case was unlike mine. After much discussion he said, "Come, then, and discuss the question of peace." . " At my own discretion?" said I. "Am I to prescribe to you?" said he. "My motion will be this," said I, "that the senate disapproves of any going to Spain or taking armies across to Greece, and," I added, "I shall make many regretful marks as to Gnaeus." Thereupon he said, "Of course, I don't wish such things said." "So I supposed," said I, "but I must decline being present there, because I must either speak in this sense, and say many things which I could not possibly pass over, if present, or I must not come at all." The upshot was that, by way of ending the discussion, he requested that I would think it over. I couldn't say no to that. So we parted. I feel certain, therefore, that he has no love for me. But I felt warm satisfaction with myself, which hasn't been the case for some time past. For the rest, good heavens! What a crew! What an inferno! to use your word. . ¹⁶⁵ What a gang of bankrupts and desperadoes! What is one to say of a son of Servius, a son of Tullus having been in the camp by which Pompey was besieged? Six legions! He is extra-ordinarily vigilant, extraordinarily bold: I see no limit to the mischief. Now, at any rate, it is time for you to bring out your counsels. This is where you drew the line. Yet his closing remark in our interview, which I had almost forgotten to mention, was very offensive, that "if he was not allowed to avail himself of my counsels, he would avail himself of such as he could, and would scruple at nothing." "So you have seen with your own eyes," say you, "that the man is such as you described him to be. Did it cost you a sigh ?" Yes, indeed. "Tell me the rest." Well, he went straight off to his villa at Pedum, I to Arpinum. Next I await the "twittering swallow"—to which you refer. ¹⁶⁶ "Come," you will say, "don't cry over spilt milk: ¹⁶⁷ even the leader himself, whom we are following, has made many mistakes."

But I wait for a letter from you. For you can't say, as in former ones, "Let us see how this turns out." The final test was to be our meeting, and in that I feel certain I have offended him. All the more prompt must be my next step. Pray send me a packet, and full of politics! I am very anxious for a letter from you.

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CCCLXXVI (A IX, 19)

BEING debarred from Rome, I gave my son his toga virilis at Arpinum in preference to any other place, and my fellow townsmen were gratified at the compliment: though I observed everywhere that both they and others whom I passed in my journey were in low spirits and much dejected. So melancholy and shocking is the contemplation of this tremendous disaster. Levies are being held, the men are being drafted into winter quarters. These are measures which, even when taken by loyal citizens at a time of regular war and with due consideration, are yet in themselves a source of annoyance—how unpopular do you suppose they are in the present instance, when they are being carried out by men of reckless character, in an abominable civil war, and in the most offensive manner? Don't imagine that there is a single scoundrel in Italy who is not to be found among them. I saw them en masse at Formiae. I never, by Hercules! believed them to be human beings, and I knew them all: but I had never seen them collected in one place. Let us go, then, whither we have resolved to go, and leave all that is ours behind us. Let us start to join him, to whom our arrival will give greater satisfaction than if we had been together from the first. For at that time we were in the highest hopes, now I, at any rate, have none; nor has anyone except myself left Italy, unless he regarded Caesar as his personal enemy. Nor, by Hercules! do I do this for the sake of the Republic, which I regard as completely abolished: but to prevent anyone thinking me ungrateful to the man, who relieved me from the miseries which he had himself inflicted upon me: and at the same time because I cannot endure the sight of what is happening, or of what is certain to happen. Why, I believe that by this time some decrees of the senate have been passed, I hope they may be in the sense of Volcatius's proposal. ¹⁶⁸ But what does it matter? Everyone's opinion is the same. But Servius will be the most implacable of all, for he has sent his son with Pontius Titinianus ¹⁶⁹ to crush, or at any rate to capture, Gnaeus Pompeius. Yet the latter acts from a motive of fear: but the former? But let us cease shewing temper, and let us at last thoroughly realize that we have nothing left, except what I could least have wished-life. As for us, since the Upper Sea is beset, we will sail by the Lower, and if it turns out to be difficult to start from Puteoli, we will make for Croton or Thurii, and like good citizens, devoted to our country, we will play the pirate. I don't see any other way of carrying on this war. We will go to Egypt and ensconce ourselves there. We cannot possibly be his match on land: of peace there is no assurance. But enough of these lamentations. Pray give a letter to Cephalio on everything that has been done, and even about what men say, unless they have become entirely tongue-tied. I have followed your advice, and especially in the fact that, in my interview with him, I both maintained my proper dignity and stuck to my refusal to go to Rome. As to the rest, pray write to me with the most particular care—for by this time the worst has come to the worst—what course you approve, and what your opinion is. There can, of course, be now no hesitation: still, if anything does occur to you, or rather whatever occurs to you, pray write me word.

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CCCLXXVII (A X, I)

Having arrived at my brother's house at Laterium on the 3rd of April, I received your letter and felt a moment of relief—a thing that hadn't happened to me since these disasters. For I value very highly your approval of my firmness of mind and my course of action. As your announcement that our friend Sextus also approves, the joy that that gives me is as though I imagined myself to be receiving the approbation of his father, for whom I always had a peculiar and special regard. It was he, as I am often accustomed to recall, who, in old times, on the famous 5th of December, when I said, "What to do then, Sextus?" answered me by quoting: “ Ah, not a coward's death, nor shorn of fame,
But after some high deed to live for aye.
” ¹⁷⁰

His influence, therefore, is still living for me, and his son, who is extremely like him, has the same importance in my eyes as he once had. Pray give him my very kindest regards.

You certainly defer giving advice, though not to a very distant date; for I imagine by this time that that suborned peacemaker ¹⁷¹ has had his say, and that some decision has been arrived at in the convention of senators—for I don't consider it a senate-nevertheless, you do keep one in suspense as to what it is to be, yet the less so because I feel no hesitation as to what we ought to do. For when you write word that a legion and Sicily are being offered to Flavius, and that that business is already being carried out, what crimes must you think are partly being actually proposed and meditated, partly will crop up in the future? I, for my part, shall disregard the law of Solon—your countryman, and presently, I think, to be mine—who punished by disfranchisement the man who, in a case of civil disturbance, took neither side. Unless you think otherwise, I shall hold aloof both from the one and the other. But one of the two courses is more decidedly resolved upon in my mind, and yet I will not anticipate. I shall await your advice and the letter (unless you have by this time sent another) which I asked you to deliver to Cephalio. You say, not because you have heard it from anyone else, but because it is your personal belief, that I shall be drawn into any negotiation there may be about peace. I have no idea at all of any negotiation for peace being possible, since it is Caesar's most fixed determination, if he can, to strip Pompey of his army and province, ¹⁷² unless, perchance, that well-paid friend of yours can persuade him to keep quiet long enough to allow commissioners to go and return. I see nothing to hope for or to think of as possible. Nevertheless, this is itself a point for an honest man to consider: it is important and among the problems of l'haute politique ¹⁷³ —whether one ought to appear at the council-board of a tyrant, if he is going to discuss some subject good in itself. Wherefore, if anything should turn up of a sort to lead to my being summoned—which for my part does not give me any anxiety, for I have said what I intended saying about peace, and Caesar himself emphatically repudiated it—but if anything should turn up, write and tell me in any case what you think I ought to do. For nothing has as yet occurred to me requiring more deliberation. I rejoice that you are pleased with the words of Trebatius, a good man and a good citizen; and your own frequent exclamation of "excellent" has been the one thing up to now that has given me pleasure. I am looking eagerly for a letter from you which, indeed, I feel sure is already on its way. You, along with Sextus, have maintained the same dignified resolve as youenjoin upon me. Your friend Celer is rather a man of learning than of good sense. What Tullia has told you about our young men is true. What you mention ¹⁷⁴ in your letter does not appear to me to be so formidable in fact as in sound. It is this state of distraction in which we now are that is a kind of death. I had two alternatives before me—either to continue active political life among the disloyal with freedom of action, or to side with the loyalists at whatever risk. Let me either follow the fool-hardy counsels of the loyalists, or attack the reckless measures of the disloyal. Either is dangerous: but what I am now doing is discreditable and yet not safe. I think that your friend who sent his son to Brundisium ¹⁷⁵ to negotiate a peace (I am quite of your opinion as to peace, that it is a palpable pretence, and that war is being prepared with the utmost energy) will be commissioned, not myself; of which as yet no word, to my great relief, has been said. I therefore think it the less necessary to write, or even to consider what I should do, if I should happen to be commissioned.

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CCCLXXVIII (A X, 2)

HAVING received your letter on the 5th of April, which Cephalio brought, and intending to stop the next day at Minturnae meaning to start back thence at once, I broke my journey at my brother's house at Arcanum, in order that, until I got more certain intelligence, I might be in a more retired place, and yet all the preparations should go on which do not require my presence. The "twitterer" ¹⁷⁶ is now here, and I am all eagerness to be gone; and yet I have no idea of destination or route. But these points I and those who understand such things will have to settle. Yet pray, to the best of your power, continue to aid us as before with your advice. Things are in an impossible tangle. Everything has to be left to chance. We are struggling along without any hope. If anything better turns up, it will be a surprise. I would rather Dionysius, of whom Tullia has written me word, had not set out to join me. The truth is that it is not a suitable time, nor do I wish that my discomforts-especially considering their gravity-should furnish a spectacle to a man who is not my friend, and I don't want you to be at enmity with him on my account.

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CCCLXXIX (A X, 3)

THOUGH I have absolutely nothing to write about, yet there are these remaining points which I want to know-whether Caesar has started; in what position he has left the city; in Italy itself, whom he has placed at the head of each region or department of business; and who were sent to Pompey and the consuls as peace commissioners, in accordance with the decree of the senate? So to ascertain these facts I make a point of sending this letter to you. You will be doing me, therefore, a great service, and one I shall be grateful for, if you will inform me on these points and any other that it is necessary to know. I shall stay in Arcanum until I get the information.

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CCCLXXX (A X, 3 a)

I am dictating this letter on the 7th of April—the second on the same day—and I wrote a longer one the day before with my own hand. They say that you have appeared at the Regia, ¹⁷⁷ and I don't blame you, seeing that I have not shrunk from incurring the like criticism. ¹⁷⁸ But I await a letter from you. I really don't see now what I have to expect, but nevertheless, even if there is nothing to say, I should like you to write and tell me only that; Caesar writes to say that he excuses my non-appearance, and declares that he doesn't take it at all amiss. I am not disturbed by what he tells me about Tullus and Servius, that they have grumbled at his not having given them the same licence as he did to me Absurd fellows! To send their sons to besiege Gnaeus Pompeius, ¹⁷⁹ and then to scruple about coming to the senate themselves. I However, I am sending you a copy of Caesar's letter.

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CCCLXXXI (A X, 4)

I have received a large number of letters from you on the same day, all carefully written; one, however, which amounts to a volume, deserving to be read again and again, as I am doing. The labour of writing it was not thrown away, and I am excessively obliged to you. Wherefore, as long as circumstances allow of it, that is, as long as you know where I am, I earnestly beg of you to repeat the experiment as often as possible. Yes, indeed: let there be once for all an end, if possible, to these daily lamentations, or at any rate some sort of restraint in them, which at least is possible. For it is not now the rank, the honours, or the position in life which I have lost that I am thinking of; but what I have actually attained to, the services I have performed, the reputation in which I have lived: in fine, the difference, even in these disastrous circumstances, between myself and those through whom I have lost all. These are the men who thought that, without expelling me from the state, they could not maintain the free gratification of their desires; and you see to what this close alliance and unprincipled coalition of theirs has come!

The one leader is in a fever of mad fury and crime: there is no slackening with him: his hand grows heavier every day. Not long ago. he expelled Pompey from Italy. Now on one side of the empire he is for pursuing him, on the other for stripping him of his province. He no longer refuses, he even in a sense demands, to have the title of tyrant, as he already is one in fact. The other—the man who once upon a time did not so much as raise me up when I threw myself at his feet—the man who said he could do nothing against Caesar's wish— having evaded the hand and sword of his father-in-law, is now preparing war by land and sea: not an unjust one on his part indeed, but both righteous and even necessary, but yet one fatal to his fellow citizens unless he prove victorious, fraught with disaster even if he is victorious.

Not only do I not rate the achievements of these supreme commanders as superior to my own: I do not even consider that their present position is any better, though they seem to be in a very brilliant one, and I to be struggling with a harder fate. For who can be happy who has caused either the abandonment or the invasion of his country? And if, as you remind me, I was right in saying in these books that the only good was virtue, the only evil vice, certainly both those men are in the highest degree miserable, for to both the safety and dignity of their country have always been subordinate to their own power and their private advantage. I am therefore sustained by the purity of my conscience, when I reflect that I either performed the most eminent services to the state, when I had the power, or at least never harboured any but loyal thoughts; and that the republic has been wrecked by precisely the storm which I foresaw fourteen years ago. With such feelings, then, as my companions, shall I set out, not indeed without a bitter pang, and that, not so much for my own or my brother's sake (for our life is practically over) as for our sons, for whom at times it seems to me that we were bound to have secured, among other things, the integrity of the constitution. Of them the one, because he is not after all more dutiful than he is, gives me extraordinary pain: while the other—Oh dear Oh dear! it is the keenest sorrow of my life—corrupted no doubt by our system of indulgence, has gone very far, to a point indeed which I do not venture to describe. ¹⁸⁰ I am expecting, too, a letter from you: for you said that you would write at greater length when you had seen the young man himself. All my indulgent conduct to him has been accompanied with considerable strictness, and it is not one only or a small peccadillo of his that I have come down upon, but many and very serious ones; his father's gentleness to him also ought to have secured his affection, rather than such unfeeling disrespect. The fact is that his writing to Caesar caused us such serious annoyance, that, while we concealed it from you, we yet, I think, made his own life unpleasant. This recent journey of his, however, and his pretence of loyalty to us ¹⁸¹ I do not venture to characterize. I only know that after visiting Hirtius he was invited to an interview by Caesar, that he talked to him about my feeling as being entirely opposed to his own views, and of my design of quitting Italy. Even this I do not write with confidence. Well, it is not my fault, it is his natural disposition that must cause us alarm. It was this that corrupted Curio and the son of Hortensius, not their fathers' fault. My brother is prostrate with grief, and is not so much afraid for his own life as for mine. To this misery pray, pray, bring any consolations that you can; above all I should prefer one—the assurance that the story told us is false or exaggerated. If it is true, I don't see what is to happen in our present state of life, when we are practically exiles. For if the Republic had still had any existence, I should have been at no loss what to do either by way of severity or indulgence. Whether it is the influence of anger, or pain, or fear, I have written this in a tone of greater severity than either your affection for him or mine would seem to warrant. If it is true, you must pardon me: if false, I shall be only too glad to be relieved of my mistake by you. But whatever the truth of the matter may be, you must not attribute any blame to his uncle or father.

I had written so far when a message was brought from Curio's house that he was coming to call on me. He had arrived at his Cuman villa yesterday, that is, the 13th. If his conversation, therefore, furnishes me with any subject worth writing to you, I will append it to this letter.

Curio passed by my villa and sent me a message to say that he was coming presently, and hurried on to Puteoli to make a public speech there. He made his speech, returned, and paid me a very long visit. Monstrous! You know our friend: he made no concealments. To begin with, he said that it was absolutely certain that all who had been condemned under the lex Pompeia ¹⁸² were being recalled, ¹⁸³ and that accordingly he would avail himself of their services in Sicily. As to the Spains, he had no doubt about their being Caesar's; and from them Caesar would himself march with an army wherever Pompey was: that an end would be put to the whole mischief by the latter's death: that in an access of anger Caesar had really wished the tribune Metellus to be killed, ¹⁸⁴ and that it was within an ace of being done: if it had been done, there would have followed a serious massacre: that a great many people advised one: that Caesar himself was not by taste or nature averse from bloodshed, but thought clemency would win him popularity: if, however, he once lost the affection of the people, he would be cruel: he was, again, much disturbed by finding that he had caused ill-feeling among the populace itself by taking the treasury, and therefore that, though he had quite made up his mind to address the people before leaving Rome, he had not ventured to do so, and had started with very disturbed feelings. ¹⁸⁵ When again I asked what he saw in the future, what final result, and what sort of a constitution, he openly confessed that there was no hope left. He expressed fear of Pompey's fleet, and said that, if it put out to sea, he should abandon Sicily. "What is the meaning of your lictors?" said I. " If derived from the senate, why laurelled? If from Caesar, why six?" "I wanted," said he, "to get my authority from a decree of the senate, though by a snatch vote, for it could not be done otherwise. But Caesar now dislikes the senate much more than ever. 'Everything,' he says, 'will in future come from me."' "But why six? " ¹⁸⁶ "Because I did not want twelve; I might have had them." Then I said, "How I wish I had asked him for what I hear Philippus ¹⁸⁷ has succeeded in getting! But I was afraid to senate, because his enemies put up the tribune L. Caecilius Metellus to veto every proposal (Caesar, B.C. i 33). ask, as I had made no concession to him." "He would have gladly given you leave," said he: "indeed, consider that you have obtained it; for I will write and tell him, exactly as you like, that we have spoken on the subject. What does it matter to him, since you do not attend the senate, where you are? Nay, at this very moment you would not have damaged his cause in the least by having quitted Italy." In answer to this I said that I was looking out for some retired and solitary spot, chiefly because I still had lictors. He commended my design. "What do you say to this, then?" said I. "My course to Greece lies through your province, since the coast of the Mare Superum is guarded by troops." "Nothing I should like better," said he. On this subject he spoke at great length and in a very courteous tone. So then I have gained this much, that I can sail not only in safety, but even without concealment. All other subjects of discussion he put off till the next day; and, if any of them seem worth a letter, I will write and tell you. But there are some things which I omitted to ask him: whether Caesar intended to wait for an interregnum, or what he meant by saying, as he did, that he was offered the consulship, but refused it for the next year. And there are other points on which I will question him. To crown all he swore—as he usually makes no difficulty of doing—that Caesar must be very fond of me. "Why, what," continued he, "did Dolabella write to me?" "Pray tell me what." He then declared that Dolabella had written to say that, for having desired me to come to the city, Caesar had thanked him warmly, and not only expressed approbation, but joy. In short, I was relieved. For the suspicion of domestic treachery and of the conversation with Hirtius was removed. ¹⁸⁸ How I long for young Quintus to be worthy of us, and how I encourage myself to believe what is in his favour! But need he have visited Hirtius? There is, no doubt, some motive or other; but I would wish it as slight as possible. And, after all, I am surprised at his not yet having returned. But we shall see about all this. Please put the Oppii at Terentia's service. For that is the only danger in the city now. ¹⁸⁹ For myself, however, give me the benefit of your advice, as to whether I should go to Rhegium by land, or start straight from this place on board ship, and on other points; for I am still staying here. I shall have something to write to you about as soon as I have seen Curio again. Pray be as careful as ever to let me know how Tiro is.

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CCCLXXXII (F VIII, 16)

¹⁹⁰ (16) APRIL Being mortally alarmed by your letter, in which you shewed that your mind was filled with gloomy ideas, without saying outright what they were, and yet betraying the kind of action which you were contemplating, I write this letter to you on the spot. In the name of your fortunes and your children, my dear Cicero, I beg and beseech you not rashly to imperil your safety and security. I protest in the name of gods and men, and of our friendship, that I told you beforehand, and that my warning was not given inconsiderately, but that after meeting Caesar, and ascertaining what his view would be, if he gained the victory, I informed you of it. If you think that Caesar will maintain the same policy in letting his adversaries go and offering terms, you are mistaken. His thoughts, and even his words, forebode nothing but severity and cruelty. He left town incensed with the senate: he was thoroughly roused by the recent tribunician intercessions: ¹⁹¹ there will be no place, by heaven, for mediation. Wherefore, if you love yourself, if you love your only son, if your family and your remaining hopes are dear to you: if I, or that excellent man your son-in-law, have any influence with you—and you surely ought not to wish to ruin us, in order to force us to choose between loathing and abandoning the cause, on the triumph of which our safety depends, or harbouring an unnatural wish against your safety. Finally consider this: whatever offence your hesitation has caused Pompey you have already incurred; it would be a piece of most consummate folly to act against Caesar now that he is victorious, when you refused to attack him while his fortunes were doubtful—to join the men after they have been driven into flight, whom you refused to follow when they were holding their ground. Take care lest, while feeling ashamed of not being a good enough Optimate, you fail to select the best course for yourself. But if I can't persuade you to take my advice in toto, at least wait till it is known how we get on in the Spanish provinces, which I have to tell you will be ours as soon as Caesar arrives. What hope your people have when the Spains are lost I don't know. Of what, then, you can be thinking to join men in so desperate a position, on my honour, I cannot imagine. What you told me, though not in so many words, Caesar had already heard, and he had scarcely said "good morning!" to me when he mentioned what he had heard about you. I said I did not know anything about it, but yet begged him to write you a letter as the best method of inducing you to stay in the country. He is taking me into Spain with him. For if he were not doing so, before going to Rome, I should have hastened to visit you, wherever you were, and should have pressed this upon you personally, and tried with might and main to keep you from going. Pray, my dear Cicero, reflect again and again, and do not utterly ruin yourself and all your family, nor knowingly, and with your eyes open, put yourself into a situation from which you can see no possible retreat. But if, on the one hand, you are shaken by the remarks of the Optimates, or, on the other, are unable to endure the intemperance and offensive behaviour of certain persons, I think you should select some town not affected by the war, while this controversy is being fought out, which will be settled almost directly. If you do this, you will, in my opinion have acted wisely, and will not offend Caesar.

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CCCLXXXIII (A X, 5)

ABOUT my plans as a whole I have written to you, I think, before in sufficient detail. About the day of my departure I can state nothing for certain, except this: not before the new moon. Curio's conversation on the second day's inter-view amounted to much the same, except that he indicated still more candidly that he did not see what was to be the end of the business.

As to your charge to me to control Quintus ... 'tis a case of asking for Arcadia. ¹⁹² However, I will omit nothing. And would that you—but I will not be over troublesome. I at once forwarded the packet to Vestorius, and, indeed, he was always asking for it. Vettienus was more obliging in what he said to you than in what he had written to me. But I cannot wonder enough at the man's carelessness. For Philotimus having told me that he could buy that lodge of Canuleius for 50 sestertia, and could get it for even less, if I asked Vettienus to act, I did ask the latter to obtain a deduction from that sum if he could. He promised to do so. He told me that he had bought it for 30 sestertia, and asked me to let him know to whom I wished it conveyed; saying that the day for payment was the 13th of November. I wrote back somewhat crossly, and yet with a familiar jest. ¹⁹³ For the present, as he is acting handsomely, I refrain from finding any fault with the man, and I have written to tell him that you have given me full information. Pray let me know about your journey, what you are thinking of doing, and when.

16 April.

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CCCLXXXIV (A X, 8 b)

CAEsAR imperator greets Cicero imperator. Although I had come to the conclusion that you were not likely to do anything unadvisedly or imprudently, yet, being made anxious by common report, I thought that I ought to write to you and to appeal to you, in the name of our mutual kindness, not to go anywhere now that fortune has declared in my favour, that you had not thought yourself bound to go even when it was still uncertain. For you will have at once committed a somewhat serious offence against our friendship, and have adopted a course far from beneficial to yourself: since you will make it clear that you have not followed fortune—for all the good luck has notoriously been on our side, all the bad on theirs-nor the merits of the cause, for they are the same now as when you judged it best not to assist at their deliberations: but you will shew that you have condemned some act of mine, and that is the heaviest blow you can inflict on me. In the name of our friendship, I beg you not to do so. Finally, what can be more becoming to a good man, and a peaceable and quiet citizen, than to hold aloof from civil strife? It is a thing some would have been glad to do, ¹⁹⁴ but could not on account of the danger. For yourself, when you have satisfied yourself as to the evidence which my life furnishes, and the decision at which my friendship for you has arrived, ¹⁹⁵ you will find nothing at once safer and more honourable than to abstain entirely from active intervention in the fray. On the march, 16 April.

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CCCLXXXV (A X, 6)

UP to this time the only thing stopping me is the weather. I am not going in for any sharp practice. Let what will happen in Spain, nevertheless my decision stands-partons! I have explained all my ideas to you in a previous letter. Therefore this is a short one, as also because I am in haste and more busy than usual. As to young Quintus, "I am doing my best"—you know the rest. ¹⁹⁶ Your next piece of advice is at once friendly and wise: but everything else will be plain sailing, if I only keep on my guard against him. ¹⁹⁷ It is no easy task: there are many perplexing traits in his character: no simplicity, no straightforwardness. I could wish that you.had undertaken the management of the young man. For his father is too indulgent: whenever I tighten the rein, he slackens it again. If I had been able to act without his father, I should have controlled him: and this you can do. But I excuse you: it is, I say, no light task. I regard it as certain that Pompey is going through Illyricum into Gaul. ¹⁹⁸ By what route and whither I am to go now, I shall consider.

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CCCLXXXVI (F IV, I)

Mv intimate friend Gaius Trebatius has written to me to say that you have inquired of him where I was, and that you regretted that, owing to the state of your health, you had not seen me after my arrival at the city walls, and that at the present time you wished, if I came nearer, to consult with me on what was the duty of us both. Oh that it had been possible, Servius, for us to converse before the ruin— that is the word!—had been completed. We should surely have contributed some assistance to the falling Republic. For I am fully informed, though absent myself, that, foreseeing these disasters long before, you were the supporter of peace both during and after your consulship. I, however, though approving your policy and holding the same opinion myself, was unable to do any good. For I arrived late in the day; I was isolated; I was regarded as imperfectly acquainted with the facts: I had suddenly plunged into a scene of mad passion for war. Now, since it seems impossible for us to furnish any support to the Republic, if there is any measure within our power to take in our own particular interests—I don't mean to maintain our old position, but to express our grief in the manner most honourable to ourselves-there is no one in the world with whom I should think it proper to confer in preference to yourself. For you do not forget the examples of the most illustrious men—whom we ought to resemble— nor the maxims of the greatest philosophers, whom you have always worshipped. And, in fact, I should myself have written to you before to warn you that your going to the senate—or rather to the convention of senators ¹⁹⁹ —would have no result, had I not been afraid of annoying the man who was urging me to imitate you. Him indeed I gave clearly to understand, when he asked me to attend the senate, that I should say precisely what you said about peace, and about the Spains. You see how the matter stands: the whole world is parcelled out among men in military command, and is ablaze with war: the city, without laws, law courts, justice, or credit, has been abandoned to plunder and fire. Accordingly, nothing occurs to me, I don't say to hope, but scarcely even to venture to wish. If, however, you, in your supreme wisdom, think it of any advantage that we should have a discussion, though I am thinking of going still farther from the city, the very name of which I do not now like to hear mentioned, I will yet come nearer; and I have instructed Trebatius not to decline to bring any message you wished to send me: and I should like you to do so, or to send me any of your own friends that you can trust, so that you may not be obliged to leave the city, or I to approach it. I pay you the same high compliment as I perhaps claim for myself, in feeling sure that whatever we mutually agree upon, will have the approbation of all the world. Farewell.

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CCCLXXXVII (A X, 7)

YES, I quite approve of your staying in Apulia and Sipontum, and of your avoiding committing yourself; and I do not think your case is on all fours with mine. Not but that in regard to the constitution the right course is the same for us both—but there is now no question of the constitution. It is a contest of rival kings, in which the more moderate king, and the more virtuous and clean-handed of the two, has been defeated, the one, too, whose defeat involves the necessary destruction of the very name of the Roman people: while, if he does conquer, he will use his victory after the manner and precedent of Sulla. ²⁰⁰ Therefore in this quarrel you must not openly profess adherence to either side, and must wait on events. My position, however, is different, because, being under the bond of an obligation, I cannot shew myself ungrateful, and yet do not meditate being at the seat of war, but at Malta or some similar retired place. "Do you do nothing to help the man," you will say, "to whom you do not wish to be ungrateful?" Nay, I think he would perhaps have been glad if I had done less. But as to this we shall see. Let me only get out of the country, and I have a better opportunity of doing so now that Dolabella is on the Adriatic, Curio in the Sicilian straits. However, I have had a certain revival of hope from the fact that Servius Sulpicius wishes an interview with me. I have sent my freedman Philotimus with a letter to him: if he chooses to play the man, we shall have a notable tête-à-tête: otherwise ... I shall be the same as ever. Curio has been staying with me: his idea is that Caesar is in low water from having offended the multitude: and he was nervous about going to Sicily, if Pompey should begin naval operations.

I gave it to young Quintus when he returned! I perceive that it was a piece of avarice on his part, and a hope of a large bounty. This is a serious evil enough, but the crime which I feared I hope he did not commit. ²⁰¹ However, I think you are convinced that this vice has not arisen from my indulgence, but from his natural disposition: still I will school and control him. As to the Oppii of Velia, please consult with Philotimus, and arrange as you think proper. I shall look on Epirus as at my service, but I seem destined to quite a different voyage.

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CCCLXXXVIII (F IV, 2)

I received your letter on the 28th of April, while at my Cuman villa. As soon as I had read it I perceived that Philotimus, considering that he had, as you say, received verbal instructions from you on every point, had made a great mistake in not having come to me personally, but sending your letter, which I understood to have been the shorter because you had imagined that he would deliver it. However, after I had read your letter, your wife Postumia and our dear Servius called on me. Their opinion was that you should come to Cumae, and they even urged me to write and tell you so. You ask what my advice is: it is of such a nature, that it is easier to adopt it myself than to give it to another. What measure could I venture to urge on a man possessed of your supreme influence and knowledge of affairs? If we ask what is most right, the answer is plain: if what is expedient, it is doubtful. But if we are the men we really ought to be-holding, that is, the faith that nothing is expedient except what is right and virtuous-there can be no doubt as to what we ought to do. You express your opinion that my case is closely connected with yours. Well, at least we both made the same mistake, though with the very best intentions. For both of us continually advised a peaceful solution; and since nothing was more to Caesar's advantage, we thought that we were obliging him by supporting peace. How grossly mistaken we have been, and to what a pass things have come, you now see. Nor do you only perceive what is actually going on and what has gone on, but also what the course of affairs and the ultimate result will be. Therefore you must either approve the measures now being taken, or be a party to them in spite of disapproving them. The one alternative in my eyes is discreditable, the other is dangerous as well. I can only come, therefore, to one conclusion—that I ought to quit the country. All that I have, I think, to consider in so departing is the method to adopt, and the country to which to go. Surely there never were circumstances of greater distress, or even a question more difficult to settle. For no decision is possible that does not fall foul of some great difficulty. For you, my opinion is—if you will agree with me—that, if you have made up your mind as to what you think you ought to do, in a way which separates your plan from mine, you should save yourself the trouble of the journey here but if there is anything you wish to impart to me, I shall expect you. Of course, I should like you to come as soon as you can conveniently to yourself, as I perceived was the wish both of Servius and Postumia. Farewell.

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CCCLXXXIX (F V, 19)

Though I never doubted your great affection for me, yet I learn it better every day of my life, and I never forget what you once said in a letter, that you would be more zealous in shewing me attention than you had been in the province (though, to my mind, nothing could exceed your loyalty in the province), in proportion as your judgment could now be more independent. Accordingly, your former letter gave me great pleasure, because it shewed me that my arrival was affectionately looked forward to by you, and that, when things turned out differently from what you had expected, you were greatly rejoiced at the line I took. So, also, this last letter is extremely valuable to me from the expression at once of your judgment and your affection: of your judgment, because I learn that, as all gallant and good men are bound to do, you hold nothing to be expedient except what is right and virtuous; of your affection, because you promise to stand by me, whatever course of policy I shall adopt. Nothing could be more gratifying to me, nor, as I think, more honourable to yourself. My own course has long been decided. I have not written to tell you of it before, not because you were one to be kept in the dark, but because the communication of a policy at such a time seems in a certain sense to be an exhortation to duty, or rather a summons to share in either danger or labour. Seeing, however, that your goodwill, kindness, and affection for me are what they are, I gladly embrace such a heart. But I do so on this condition, for I will not abandon my habitual modesty in asking favours: if you do what you profess, I shall be grateful; if not, I shall pardon you, and consider that you were unable to deny the latter to your fears, the former to me. For it is in sober earnest an extremely difficult case. The right thing to do is clear: as to the expedient thing, though it is obscure, yet, if we are the men we ought to be, that is, worthy of our philosophical studies, we cannot entertain a doubt that the most advantageous course is the course of strictest honour. Wherefore, if you determine to join me, come at once. But if you wish to act with me and to go to the same place, but cannot do so just yet, I will keep you fully informed on every point. Whichever way you decide I shall look upon you as my friend, but as the closest possible friend if you decide on the course which I desire.

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CCCXC (A X, 8 a)

HAD I not been warmly attached to you—much more warmly, indeed, than you suppose—I should not have been alarmed at the rumour which has reached me about you, especially as I thought it was without foundation. But just because I am so exceedingly devoted to you, I cannot conceal the fact that even a report, however groundless, is a serious thing in my eyes. I cannot believe that you are about to cross the sea, considering how highly you value Dolabella and your dear Tullia, and how highly you are valued by me, to whom, by heaven, your rank and reputation are almost dearer than they are to yourself. Nevertheless, I did not think that it would be friendly in me not to be rendered anxious by the talk even of men of low character. And, indeed, I have been the more zealous, because I considered that I had thrust upon me a somewhat difficult part to play, owing to the misunderstanding between us, which was the result of jealousy on my part rather than of any wrong done me by you. ²⁰² For I want to convince you that no one is dearer to me than you are, except my Caesar, and that my conviction at the same time is that Caesar gives M. Cicero a very high place among his friends. Wherefore, my dear Cicero, I beg you not to take any compromising step; and not to place any reliance on the man who, to do you a favour, first inflicted an injury upon you; and, on the other hand, not to fly from one who, even supposing he loses all affection for you— which is impossible—will yet desire your safety and your highest honour. I have taken pains to send my most intimate friend Calpurnius ²⁰³ to you, that you may know that your life and honour are great objects with me.

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CCCXCI (A X, 8)

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. ²⁰⁴ 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 ²⁰⁵ 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. ²⁰⁶ 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? ²⁰⁷ 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. ²⁰⁸ 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, ²⁰⁹ hut those of Plato on tyrants. ²¹⁰ 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, ²¹¹ of wealth in the matter of the treasury. ²¹² 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 ²¹³ —" 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, ²¹⁴ 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. ²¹⁵ 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. ²¹⁶

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CCCXCII (A X, 9)

THE arrival of Philotimus—why, what a fellow! how insipid! what lies he keeps telling for Pompey !-frightened all my party to death. For myself, I have become hardened. None of my party doubted that Caesar had curtailed his marches: according to him, he is absolutely flying. None doubted Petreius having effected a junction with Afranius: he brings no tidings of the kind. In short, they have also been convinced of this—that Pompey, at the head of a large force, had marched into Germany by way of Illyricum; for that was announced on good authority. Well, then, I must make for Malta, I think, until we get fresh news from Spain. This, indeed, I almost think from Caesar's own letter that I may do with his approval: for he says that I cannot take a more honourable or safer course than to abstain from the combat altogether. You will say, "What has become, then, of that resolution of yours, which you described in your last?" It is here, and still unchanged. But would that I had to decide for my own person only! The tears of my family at times weaken my resolution, who beseech me to wait for the result in Spain. Caelius's letter, indeed, which was expressed in moving terms, containing an identical appeal—that I would not so rashly abandon my property, my only son, and all my family—our boys read with floods of tears. Though my own son is, in fact, the braver of the two, and for that very reason affects me more violently. His only anxiety is for my dignity. To Malta, then, and thence wherever it shall seem good! However, even now pray write something, and especially if there is any news from Afranius. On my part, if I have any conversation with Antony, I will write and tell you the result. Yet I will be cautious as to trusting him, as you warn me. For the policy of entire concealment is difficult, and dangerous into the bargain. I intend to wait for Servius Sulpicius till the 15th; both Postumia and his son Servius urge me to do so. I am glad your quartan ague is better. I send you also a copy of Caelius's letter.

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CCCXCIII (F II, 16)

Your letter ²¹⁷ would have given me great pain, had it not been that by this time reason itself has dispelled all feelings of annoyance, and had not my mind, from long despair of public safety, become callous to any new sorrow. Nevertheless, I do not know how it happened that you conceived from my former letter the suspicion which you mention in yours. For what did it contain beyond a lamentation over the state of the times, which do not cause me greater anxiety than they do you? For I know the keenness of your intellect too well to suppose that you do not see what I see myself. What surprises me is that, knowing me as thoroughly as you ought to do, you could be induced to think, that I was either so shortsighted as to abandon a fortune in the ascendant for one on the wane and all but entirely sunk; or so inconsistent as to throw away the favour already gained of a man at the height of prosperity, and so be untrue to myself, and— a thing which I have from the beginning and ever since avoided—take part in a civil war. What, then, do you mean by my "lamentable" design? Is it that of retiring, perhaps, to some secluded spot? For you know how it not only turns my stomach—as it used at one time to turn yours also—but sickens my very eyes to see the insolent conduct of mere upstarts. I have the additional gêne of the procession of lictors, and the title of imperator, by which I am addressed. If I had been without that burden, I should have been content with any retreat, however humble, in Italy. But these laurelled fasces of mine not only attract the eyes, but now also provoke the remarks of the malevolent. And though that is so, I yet never thought of leaving the country without the approbation of your party. But you know my small estates: I am obliged to stay on them, not to be troublesome to my friends. Now the fact of my finding it pleasantest to reside in my marine villa causes some to suspect me of an intention to embark on a voyage: and, after all, perhaps I should not have been unwilling to do so, had I been able to reach peace: for how could I consistently sail to war: especially against a man who, I hope, has forgiven me, on the side of a man who by this time cannot possibly forgive me?

In the next place, you might without any difficulty have understood my feeling at the time of your visit to me in my Cuman villa. For I did not conceal from you what Titus Ampius had said: ²¹⁸ you saw how I shrank from leaving the city after hearing it. Did I not assure you that I would endure anything rather than quit Italy to take part in a civil war? What, then, has occurred to make me change my resolve? Has not everything been rather in favour of my abiding by my opinion? Pray believe me in this—and I am sure you do think so-that among these miseries I seek for nothing but that people should at length understand that I have preferred peace to everything: that, when that was given up in despair, my first object was to avoid actual civil war. Of this consistent conduct I think I shall never have cause to repent. I remember, for instance, that our friend Q. Hortensius used to plume himself on this particular thing, that he had never taken any part in a civil war. In this matter my credit will be more brilliant, because it was attributed to want of spirit in his case: in mine I do not think that this idea can possibly be entertained. Nor am I terrified by the considerations which you put before me, with the most complete fidelity and affection, with the view of alarming me. For there is no sort of violence that does not seem to be hanging over the heads of all in this world-wide convulsion; and this, indeed, I would with the greatest pleasure have averted from the Republic at the cost of my private and domestic losses, even those against which you bid me be on my guard. To my son, whom I rejoice to see enjoying your affection, I shall leave, if the Republic survives in any shape, a sufficiently noble inheritance in the memory of my name: but if it entirely disappears, nothing will happen to him apart from the rest of the citizens. You ask me to have some regard to my son-in-law-a most excellent young man, and very dear to me: can you doubt, when you know how much I regard both him, and of course my dear Tullia, that this subject gives me the keenest anxiety? The more so, that in the universal disaster I yet used to flatter myself with this little grain of hope, that my, or rather our, Dolabella would be freed from those embarrassments which he had brought upon himself by his own liberality. Pray ask him how he got through the settling days, while he was in the city. How disagreeable they were to him, and how derogatory to myself as his father-in-law! Accordingly, I am neither waiting for the result of the Spanish campaign, as to which I am fully convinced that the truth is as you say, nor am I meditating any astute policy. If there is ever to be a state, there will be doubtless a place for me: but if there is not, you will yourself, as I think, make for the same lonely retreats in which you will hear that I have taken up my abode. But perhaps I am talking wildly, and all these troubles will end better. For I remember the expressions of despair among those who were old men when I was a youth: perhaps I am now imitating them, and indulging in the usual weakness of my time of life. I wish it may be so. But nevertheless!-I suppose you have heard that a purple-bordered toga is being woven for Oppius. ²¹⁹ For our friend Curtius thinks of a double-dyed one: but the hand that should dye it keeps him waiting. ²²⁰ I put in this seasoning of joke to shew you that, in spite of my indignation, I am still in the habit of laughing. ²²¹ As to what you say in your letter about Dolabella, I advise you to look to it as closely as if your own interests were at stake. My last remark shall be this: I shall do nothing wild or inconsiderate. However, I beg you, in whatever country I may be, to protect me and my children, as our friendship and your honour demand.

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CCCXCIV (A X, 10)

How blind of me not to have seen this before! I send you Antony's letter. After I had written again and again to say that I was not entertaining any plans against Caesar, that I remembered my son-in-law, remembered our friendship, that, if I had been otherwise minded, I might have been with Pompey, but that, as I had to my disgust to move about accompanied by lictors, I wished to be away from Italy, but had not made up my mind even to that—see what an admonitory tone ²²² he adopts in reply! “Your decision is perfectly right. For the man who wishes to be neutral remains in the country: he who leaves it appears to express a judgment on one side or the other. But it is not my duty to determine whether a particular person has the right to go or not. Caesar has assigned me my rôle, which is that I should not allow anyone at all to quit Italy. Therefore it matters little that I approve your idea in the present instance, since I have, nevertheless, no power to grant you any exemption. My opinion is that you should communicate with Caesar direct and ask his leave. I feel no doubt that you will obtain it, especially as you promise that you will take our friendship into consideration.” There is a Laconic despatch for you! ²²³ In any case I will wait for the man himself. He is to arrive on the 3rd, that is, today. Tomorrow, therefore, he will perhaps come to see me. I will test him: I will listen to what he has to say: I will declare loudly that I am in no hurry, that I will communicate with Caesar. I will lie perdu somewhere with the smallest number of attendants possible: at any rate, let these men be ever so reluctant to allow it, from this country I will wing my way, and oh that it might be to Curio! ²²⁴ Don't mistake what I say. Something worthy of me shall be effected. This is a new and heavy anxiety: I am much distressed by your strangury. Take medical advice, I beseech you, whilst it is in an early stage. I am delighted with your letter about the Massilians. ²²⁵ I beg you to let me know if you get any news. I should have liked to have Ocella with me, if I could manage it without any concealment; and I had extracted from Curio a promise that I should. Here I am waiting for Servius Sulpicius, for I am requested to do so by his wife and son, and I think it is necessary to see him. Antony, for his part, is carrying about Cytheris with him with his sedan open, as a second wife. ²²⁶ There are, besides, seven sedans in his train, containing friends female or male See in what disgraceful circumstances we are being done to death: and doubt, if you can, that if Caesar returns victorious, he will use the sword. For my part, I will withdraw myself in a cock-boat, if I can't get a ship, from their parricidal proceedings. But I shall know more when I have had my interview with him. Our young nephew I cannot help loving, but I see clearly that he does not love me. I never saw a case of such want of principle, of such aversion to his own relations, and of such brooding over mysterious designs. What an overpowering number of anxieties! But it will be my care, as it is now, to correct him. His natural abilities are admirable: it is his character that wants attention.

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CCCXCV (A X, II)

AFTER I had sealed my previous packet, I changed my mind about intrusting it to the man to whom I had intended doing so, because he was a stranger. Accordingly, it was not despatched the same day. Meanwhile Philotimus arrived and delivered me a letter from you. What you say in it about my brother does not, indeed, shew as much firmness on his part as one could wish, yet it does not imply any arrière pensée, any treachery, or any obstinate aversion from good, nothing that you cannot turn in any direction you please in one conversation. In short, he holds all his family in great affection-even those with whom he is too often angry—me he loves more dearly than himself. His having written about his boy in one tone to you, and in another to the boy's mother, I see no reason to blame. I am vexed at what you say about the journey and your sister, and the more so that the state of my affairs is such that I can apply no remedy to those things. For I certainly would have done so. But you see my unfortunate position and the desperate state of my affairs. His financial position is not of such a nature—for I hear frequently from him personally—as to prevent his being eager to repay you, and being really anxious on that point. But if such a man as Q. Axius, because I am thus in exile, does not pay me thirteen sestertia, which I lent his son, and pleads the hardness of the times, if Lepta and everybody else do the same, it is wont to make me feel some surprise when he tells me that he is being pressed for an insignificant sum of twenty sestertia. For you, of course, see what his difficulties are. However, he is directing the money to be paid in any case to your order. Do you think him slow or close in business of that kind? No one is less so. Enough about my brother. As for his son: his father has always spoilt him, but his indulgence is not responsible for his being untruthful, or grasping, or wanting in affection for his family, though it perhaps does make him headstrong and self-willed, as well as aggressive. Accordingly, these latter also are traits in his character, which are the results of over-indulgence, but they are pardonable—we must admit-considering what young men are nowadays. Those traits, however, which to me, at least, who love him, are more distressing than the very evils surrounding us, do not arise from excessive compliance on my part: for they have roots of their own, which, however, I would assuredly have torn up, had I been allowed to do so. But my circumstances are such that I must put up with anything. My own son I keep under control without difficulty. He is the most tractable boy possible; but my remorseful pity for him makes me less determined in politics, and the more he desires me to be staunch, the more I fear turning out a cruel father to him.

However, Antony arrived yesterday in the evening. Presently perhaps he will call on me, or, maybe, will not take even that trouble, since he has written to say what it is his pleasure should be done. But you shall know the result at once. Secrecy is my only course now. What can I do about the boys? Shall I trust them to a small vessel? What sort of courage do you think I shall have in the voyage? Why, I remember while sailing in that open Rhodian vessel in the summer how anxious I was: what do you think will be the case in a small despatch boat in the dangerous season of the year? Misery on every side! Trebatius is with me, a right good man and good citizen. What frightful news he brings me, good heavens! Is even Balbus thinking, then, of an entrée into the senate? But I will give him a letter himself for you tomorrow. Yes, I believe Vettienus is, as you say, friendly to me. I answered him with rather a peppery jest, because he wrote to me somewhat abruptly about providing for payment of the money. Pray smooth him down, if he took it less good-temperedly than one could wish. I addressed him as monetalis, ²²⁷ because he addressed me as proconsul. But as he is a good fellow and attached to me, let me keep my affection for him too. Farewell.

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CCCXCVI (A X, 12)

WHAT is to become of me? Who is there, I don't say more unfortunate, but in a more degraded position? Antony says that he has received express orders about me, and, nevertheless, he has as yet not been to see me, but told Trebatius this fact. What am I to do now? Nothing succeeds with me, and the plans which I form with the greatest care are just those which fail in the most shocking manner. Why, I thought when I had got Curio' s consent, that I had succeeded entirely. He had written about me to Hortensius. Reginus was wholly in my interests. ²²⁸ I never imagined that Antony would have anything to do with the western sea. Which way am I to turn now? I am watched on every side. But enough of tears! Well, then, I must steal away and creep stealthily into some merchant vessel: I must not expose myself to the suspicion of having connived at my being prevented from going. I must make for Sicily. If I once get there, I shall then have a greater step in my power. If things would only go as they should in Spain! However, I only hope the news about Sicily may prove true: but as yet we have had no luck. The Sicilians are said to have rallied round Cato, to have begged him to hold out, making all manner of promises. Affected by this, he is said to have begun holding a levy. ²²⁹ I don't believe it, however distinguished the authority! I am aware that this province was at least capable of being held. However, we shall presently have news from Spain. We have C. Marcellus here, who is entertaining the same thoughts as myself, either sincerely, or making a good pretence of doing so. I have not, however, seen him personally, but have been told this by one of his most intimate friends. Pray send me any news you have: if I take any active step, I will at once let you know. I will treat young Quintus with more strictness. Would that I could do any good! However, pray some time or other tear up the letters in which I have written about him in a tone of severity, for fear of anything getting out at any time. I will do the same with yours.

I am still waiting for Servius, ²³⁰ nor do I hear anything satisfactory from him. You shall know whatever does occur. Without doubt I must confess to having made a mistake. For the first time? Or on one subject? Nay, the more deeply I have reflected on a thing, the more unwisely has its execution invariably been. But “The past is past: though grieved, I'll let it be.” ²³¹ Let us only take care not to come to grief in the future. Well, you bid me make provision for my journey. What am I to provide? The possible accidents cover so wide a field, that, if I shrink from them, I must remain stationary with dishonour and sorrow; if I pay no heed to them, there is danger of my falling into the hands of unprincipled men. Only see in what a miserable position I am! At times I think that I should absolutely desire to receive some injury, however mortifying, from the Caesarians, to convince people that I have become an object of hatred to the tyrant. But if the voyage, on which I set my hopes, had been open to me, I would have certainly effected something, as you wish and advise, to justify my delay. But the closeness of the watch set upon me is surprising, and even Curio himself is an object of suspicion. So the two alternatives are to take the high hand, or to act secretly. If the former, I must have favourable weather. The latter means concealment from those men: ²³² and if any contretemps occurs in doing that, you must see in what an undignified position I shall be. I am at the mercy of circumstances, and must not shrink from a somewhat bold course. I often think of Caelius, ²³³ and, if ever I have the like opportunity, I will not let it slip. I hope Spain is safe. The action of the Massilians is at once glorious in itself, and a proof to me that things are going well in Spain. They would not have been so bold, if it had been otherwise: and they would be sure to know, for they are close at hand as well as careful. ²³⁴ Again, I am glad of your remark as to the popular dislike expressed in the theatre. Even these legions, which he took over in Italy, I can see are very much disaffected to him. However, he has no worse enemy than himself. I quite agree with your dread that he may run amuck. If he once feels desperate, he certainly will do so. All the more reason for effecting something in the spirit (and, I hope, with better fortune) of Caelius. But one thing at a time: whatever it may be, you shall at once know all about it. I will furnish young Quintus with supplies, as you request, and will undertake the Arcadian task, or the whole Peloponnesus, if you like. ²³⁵ Yes: he has ability, if he had but character. ²³⁶ . .. And if he hasn't any as yet, he may acquire it, or virtue is not teachable, ²³⁷ which I cannot be persuaded to believe.

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CCCXCVII (A X, I3)

YOUR letter was very gratifying to my Tullia, and, by Hercules, to me also. A letter from you always brings a ray of hope. Pray write, therefore, and if you can suggest anything hopeful, don't omit to do so. No, don't be afraid of Antony's lions. ²³⁸ He is a charming fellow! Just listen to a statesman's conduct of affairs! He sent round a letter summoning ten leading men and the quatttuorviri from the muncipal towns. They came to his villa in the morning. In the first place, he remained asleep till nine o'clock. Then on the announcement that the men had arrived from Naples and Cumae—for Caesar is angry with these towns—he ordered them to come again next day: he wanted to take a bath and to cure a looseness of the bowels. ²³⁹ This was yesterday. Today, however, he purposes crossing to Aenaria. He intends promising the exiles there that they shall be recalled.

But enough of that. To return to ourselves: I have received a letter from Q. Axius. Thanks, about Tiro. Vettienus is a good fellow. I have repaid Vestorius. Servius is said to have stopped at Minturnae on the 6th of May, today he is to stop with C. Marcellus in his villa at Liternum. Early tomorrow, therefore, he will see me and will give me a theme for a letter to you. For at the present moment I can't think of anything to write to you about. One thing does surprise me, that Antony has not sent me even a message, especially as he has paid a great deal of attention to me. No doubt he is charged with some still sterner order as to me. He doesn't wish to say "No" to me face to face. I never meant to ask him the favour, nor, if he had granted it, should I have trusted his word. However, I will think out some plan. Please tell me any news from the Spains: for by this time it will be possible for some to be heard: and everybody's idea is that, if all is well there, there will be no more trouble. I, however, don't regard our cause as won if we retain them, nor utterly desperate if we lose them. Silius and Ocella and the rest, I suppose, are detained. I observe that you also are hindered by Curtius, ²⁴⁰ though, as I think, you have a passport. ²⁴¹

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CCCXCVIII (A X, 14)

WHAT a miserable state of existence! To be so long in fear is a greater evil than the very thing which is feared. Servius having arrived, as I told you before, on the 15th of May came to see me next day. Not to keep you in suspense, we arrived at no conclusion as to our policy. I never saw anybody so completely beside himself with fear; and yet, by Hercules, he feared nothing that was not a legitimate object of fear: "Pompey was angry with him, Caesar no friend to him: the victory of either one or the other was alarming, both because of the cruel nature of the one, the unscrupulousness of the other, and also because of the financial embarrassment of both, which could be relieved from no source except that of the property of private persons." And these remarks were accompanied with such floods of tears, that I wondered they had not run dry from such protracted misery. For my part, even the inflammation of the eyes, which prevents my writing to you with my own hand, is not accompanied with a single tear, but is very often troublesome from keeping me awake. Wherefore any consolations you can think of collect and write, not from philosophy and books—for of that I have a stock at home, though somehow or other the medicine is less potent than the disease: rather search for such news as that about Spain or Marseilles. Servius, indeed, brings a very satisfactory report about them, and also tells me that there is good authority for the story of the two legions. That is the sort of news, if you have any, and more like it. And, indeed, something must be heard before many days are over.

But I return to Servius. We in the end adjourned our conversation to the next day: but he is slow about leaving Italy. "He would much rather die in his own bed, whatever is to happen." He feels a painful hesitation as to his son's service at Brundisium. ²⁴² There was one thing that he declared with the utmost determination: if the condemned men were restored, he would go into exile. To this I replied that "that would certainly take place; and what was already being done was no less offensive," and I mentioned a number of instances. However, these arguments did not increase his resolution, only his terror: so that I think he is rather to be kept in the dark about my plan, than invited to adopt the same. So there is not much to be got from him. In obedience to your hint I will turn my thoughts to Caelius.

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CCCXCIX (A X, 15)

WHILST Servius was still with me, Cephalio arrived with your letter of the 10th, which inspired me with a strong hope of a change for the better in regard to the eight cohorts; for those, too, which are stationed in these parts are said to be wavering. On the same day Funisulanus brought me a letter from you, in which the same news was repeated still more positively. I gave him full satisfaction as to his own business, ascribing the full credit to you. Up to this time I have had reason to be discontented with him, for he owes me a large sum of money and is not considered to be well off. Now he says he will pay me: that a man to whom he had lent money was slow in paying; that, if you have in your hands what his debtor has paid, you are to give it to letter-carriers for me. The amount you will learn from Philotimus's man Eros. But let us return to more important matters. The Caelian plan, which is your idea, is coming to fruition. Accordingly, I am distracted as to whether to wait for a favourable wind. What is wanted is a standard: men will flock to it. I quite agree with your advice to set out openly, and so I think I shall start. Meanwhile, however, I am awaiting a letter from you. Servius's advice doesn't ease matters at all. Every kind of objection is obtruded in every opinion he utters. I never knew anyone more timid except Gaius Marcellus, ²⁴³ who is sorry that he was ever consul. What a mean fellow! why, he is even said to have encouraged Antony to prevent my departure, in order, I suppose, to stay himself with greater decency. Antony, however, started for Capua on the 10th. He sent me a message to say that he had been deterred by a feeling of shame from calling on me, because he thought that I was angry with him. So I shall go, and in the way, too, which you think right, unless some hope shall have been meanwhile presented to me of undertaking some still more important part. ²⁴⁴ But that will scarcely be the case so soon. Alienus the praetor, however, thinks that some one of his colleagues would do it, if I don't. Anyone you please, so long as it is some one.

In regard to your sister, I commend you. As to the young Quintus, I am doing all I can. I hope things are better. As to my brother Quintus, let me tell you that he is in considerable anxiety about raising money to pay his debt, but as yet has squeezed nothing out of L. Egnatius. Axius is modest about the twelve sestertia! For he repeatedly put in his letter a request that I would pay Gallius whatever he wanted. Could I have done otherwise, if he had not mentioned it? And, in fact, I often promised: but he wanted that round sum promptly. They should have rather come to my assistance at this time of difficulty, heaven confound them! However, more of this another time. I am very glad that you, and Pilia too, are relieved of your quartan ague. Whilst bread and other stores are being got on board, I intend to make an excursion to my Pompeian villa. Please thank Vettienus for his kindness. If you can find anyone to bring it, send me a letter before I leave the country.

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CD (A X, 16)

I HAD just despatched a letter to you on a variety of subjects, when Dionysius arrived at my house very early in the morning. I would not only have shewn myself placable to him, but would have pardoned him altogether, had he arrived in the frame of mind described by you. For in your letter received at Arpinum you said that he was coming and was prepared to do whatever I wished. For my part, I wished, or rather desired, that he should stay with me: and it was because, on his coming to my Formian villa, he had refused point blank to do so, that I used to write to you somewhat sharply about him. Well, he said very little, but the upshot of his remarks was that I must excuse him, that his private affairs prevented his going with me. I answered shortly: I felt much pained: I quite understood that my position roused his contempt. You will perhaps be surprised, but I assure you that I feel this to be among the heaviest blows which this crisis has inflicted upon me. I hope he may be loyal to you: that is equivalent to wishing you to remain prosperous: he will be so, just as long as you are.

I hope my design will be free of all risk: for, on the one hand, I have kept it dark; and, on the other, I shall not, I think, be very closely watched. May I only have a voyage such as I wish! For all the rest— as far, that is, as they can be provided for by prudence-measures shall be taken. Pray, as long as I am in the country, write and tell me not only anything you know or have heard, but also what you foresee will happen. Cato, who might have held Sicily without any trouble-and, if he had held it, all loyalists would have joined him— sailed from Syracuse on the 23rd of April, as Curio has written to tell me. I only hope, as the phrase is, that Cotta may hold Sardinia; for there is rumour going about. Oh, if that were to be so, what a stigma on Cato! In order to allay suspicion of my leaving the country, or of what I am thinking of doing, I started for my Pompeian villa on the 12th of May, with a view of staying there, while the necessary preparations for my voyage were being made. On my arrival at my villa people came to see me: "The centurions of the three cohorts stationed at Pompeii"—this is what our friend Ninnius ²⁴⁵ reported to me—"wished to visit me the next day: they were desirous of putting themselves and the town in my hands." I, however, I can tell you, was off from my villa next morning bef6re daybreak, to prevent them having any opportunity of seeing me at all. For what was the good of three cohorts? Or even if there were more, what equipment had they? I thought, indeed, of those exploits of Caelius, ²⁴⁶ which I found mentioned in your letter received as soon as I arrived at my Cuman villa, which I did on the same day: yet at the same time it might have been a trap to catch me. ²⁴⁷ I therefore removed all suspicion. But while I was on my return journey, Hortensius had arrived and had turned out of his road to call on Terentia, and used very courteous expressions about me. However, I believe I shall see him; for he has sent a servant to tell me that he is coming to my house. This is better behaviour than that of my fellow augur Antony, among whose lictors an actress is riding in a sedan. As you are free of your quartan ague, and have not only got rid of your new disease, but also of your cold, be sure you present yourself before me in Greece full of vigour, and meanwhile let me have something by way of a letter.

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CDI (A X, 17)

ON the 14th Hortensius came to call on me after I had written my letter. I only wish the rest of his conduct had been the same. You could hardly conceive such épanouissement! I mean, I can tell you, to make use of it. ²⁴⁸ Then came Serapion with your letter, before opening which I remarked to him that you had written to me about him before, as you had done. Then, after opening the letter, I told him the rest of your compliment to the last syllable: and, by Hercules, I esteem him to be a good, learned, and honest man. And, what is more, I think of using his ship and taking him with me on my voyage. The inflammation in my eyes frequently recurs, not, indeed, to a very painful extent, but enough to prevent my writing. I am glad that your health is re-established, both from your old complaint and your more recent troubles. I could wish I had Ocella with me. For I think the weather here is going to be slightly calmer. At present the equinox is delaying us, which has been very stormy. After that, if there is a brisk wind, ²⁴⁹ I can only hope that Hortensius may remain in the same mind: since up to this time nothing could exceed his courtesy. You wonder at what I said about a "passport," as though I had insinuated some grave charge or other against you. For you say you "can't make out how it ever came into my mind." Well, since you had mentioned in your letter that you were thinking of leaving the country, and since I had been told that no one could do so without one, I thought, of course, that you had one, and also because you had taken out a passport for the boys. That was the ground of my belief, and, nevertheless, I wish you would write and tell me what you are thinking of doing, and above all what news is now stirring.

16 May.

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CDII (A X, 18)

My Tullia was confined on the 19th of May—a boy, a seven months' child. I have reason to be thankful that she had a good delivery. The child itself is a poor little weakling. An astonishingly dead calm has as yet kept me from starting, and has been a greater impediment than the watch kept upon me. For all that talk of Hortensius was mere persiflage. The truth will turn out to be this: that most dissolute of men has been corrupted by his freedman Salvius. ²⁵⁰ Accordingly, henceforth I shall not write and tell you what I am going to do, but only what I have done. For all the eavesdroppers of Corycus ²⁵¹ seem to be listening to what I say. Do you, however, I beg, continue to tell me any news there are of Spain, or anything else; but don't expect a letter from me, except when I have arrived at my wished-for destination, or in case I can send anything during my voyage. Even this I write with fear and trembling: so slowly and heavily does everything drag on. The foundation was badly laid, the rest follows suit. I am now making for Formiae: perhaps the Furies will follow me there too. ²⁵² However, to judge from Balbus's conversation with you, my idea of Malta does not find favour. Can you doubt, therefore, that he regards me as an enemy? I have, to be sure, written to Balbus telling him that you had mentioned to me in a letter both his kindly feeling and his suspicion. I thanked him. On the second point I cleared myself with him. Did you ever know anyone more unlucky? I won't say more, lest I should make you suffer too. I am overpowered with the thought that the time has come when I no longer have the power of acting either with courage or with prudence.

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CDIII (F XIV, 7)

ALL those uneasy feelings and melancholy thoughts, by which I kept you in such extreme distress, which makes me more uneasy than anything—as well as Tulliola, who is dearer to me than life itself-I have got rid of and ejected. The reason of it all I discovered the day after I parted from you. I threw up sheer bile during the night: I was at once so much relieved, that I really think some god worked the cure. Pray make full and pious acknowledgment to the god (Apollo or Aesculapius), according to your wont. I hope I have a very good ship. I write this at the moment of embarkation. Presently I will compose a large number of letters to our friends, to whose protection I will commend you and our dear Tulliola with the greatest earnestness. I would have added exhortations to you with a view to raising your courage, had I not known that you were more courageous than any man. And, after all, I hope affairs are of such a nature, that I may venture to expect you to be as comfortable as possible there, and myself to be at last likely, in company with men like-minded with myself, to be acting in defence of our country. Let your first care be your health: next, if it seems to you possible, make use of the villas farthest removed from men in arms. You can with advantage use the place at Arpinum with your town establishment, if the price of food goes up. Our charming young Cicero sends his warmest love. Good-bye, good bye.

7 June