Cicero: Letters to Atticus, Vol. 1 of 3, by E. O. Winstedt, M. A., trans

5to lie between Thermus and Silanus. But they are so unpopular and so unknown, that it seems to me to be on the cards to smuggle in Curius. Nobody else thinks so, however. It would probably suit our book best for Thermus to get in with Caesar: for, of the present batch of candidates, he would be the most formidable rival if he were put off to my year, as he is commissioner for the repairing of the Flaminian road. That will easily be finished by then: so I should like to lump him together with Caesar now. Such is the present rough guess of the chances of the candidates. I shall take the greatest care to fulfil all a candidate’s duties: and, as Gaul’s vote counts high, I shall probably get a free pass and take a run up to visit Piso, as soon as things have quieted down in the law courts here, returning in January. When I have discovered the views of the upper ten, I will let you know. The rest I hope will be plain sailing, with my civilian rivals at any rate. For our friend Pompey’s followers you must be responsible, as you are quite close to them. Tell him I shall not take it unkindly if he does not come to my election. So much for that.

But there is a thing for which I have to crave your pardon. Your uncle, Caecilius, was cheated out of a large sum of money by P. Varius, and has taken an action against his brother, A. Caninius Satyrus, about some property which he says was fraudulently made over to him by Varius. The other creditors have made common cause with him: and among them are L. Lucullus and P. Scipio and the man who was expected to act for them at the sale, if the goods were put up for auction, L. Pontius.

7But it is absurd to talk of acting for them at present. Now for the point. Caecilius asked me to take a brief against Satyrus. Now there is hardly a day but Satyrus pays me a visit. He is most attentive to L. Domitius and after him to me, and he was of great assistance to me and to my brother Quintus when we were canvassing. I am really embarrassed on account of the friendliness of Satyrus himself and of Domitius, who is the mainstay of my hopes. I pointed this out to Caecilius, assuring him at the same time that, if he stood alone against Satyrus, I would have done my best for him: but, as things were, when the creditors had combined and were such influential persons that they would easily win their case without any special advocate whom Caecilius might retain on his own account, it was only fair for him to consider my obligations and my circumstances. He seemed to take it more ungraciously than I could have wished or than a gentleman should: and afterwards he withdrew entirely from the intimacy which had grown up between us in the last few days.

Please try to forgive me and to believe that delicacy prevented me from appearing against a friend whose very good name was at stake, in the hour of his misfortune, when the friendly attentions he had paid to me had been unfailing. If you cannot take so kind a view, pray consider that my candidature stood in the way. I think even so I may be forgiven: for there is not “a trifle, some eightpenny matter,”^[2] at Iliad xxii, 159| stake. You know the game I am playing, and how important it is for me to keep in with every one and

9even to make new friends. I hope I have justified myself to you. I am really anxious to do so.

I am highly delighted with your Hermathena, and have found such a good position for it, that the whole class-room seems but an offering at its feet.^[4] Many thanks for it.

I beg to inform you that on the very day that L. Julius Caesar and C. Marcius Figulus were elected to the consulship I was blessed with a baby boy; and Terentia is doing well. It is ages since I had a letter from you! I have written before and told you all my affairs. At the present minute I am thinking about defending my fellow candidate Catiline. We can have any jury we like with the greatest good will of the prosecutor. I hope, if Catiline is acquitted, it will make us better friends in our canvassing: but, if it does not, I shall take it quietly.

I badly want you back soon: for there is a widespread opinion that some friends of yours among the upper ten are opposed to my election, and I can see that you will be of the greatest assistance to me in winning their good will. So be sure you come back to town in January, as you proposed.

I beg to inform you that your grandmother has died of grief at your absence and of fear that the Latin tribes would revolt and not bring the beasts

11to the Alban hill for sacrifice.^[5] No doubt Saufeius will send you a letter of condolence. I am expecting you back by January—from mere hearsay, or was it perhaps from letters you have sent to others? You have not said anything about it to me. The statues you have obtained for me have been landed at Caieta. I’ve not seen them yet, as I’ve not had a chance of getting away from town: but I’ve sent a man to pay for the carriage. Many thanks for the trouble you’ve taken in getting them—so cheaply too.

You keep writing to me to make your peace with our friend. I have tried every means I know: but it is surprising how estranged he is from you. I expect you have heard what he thinks about you: anyhow I’ll let you know when you come. I have not been able to restore the old terms of intimacy between him and Sallustius, though the latter was on the spot. I mention it because Sallustius used to grumble at me about you. Now he has found out that our friend is not so easy to appease, and that I have done my best for both of you. Our little Tullia is engaged to C. Piso Frugi, son of Lucius.

You keep on raising our hopes of seeing you: and just the other day, when we thought you were nearly here, we find ourselves suddenly put off till July. Now I really do think you ought to keep your promise

13and come if you possibly can manage it. You will be in time for my brother Quintus’ election: you will see me after all this long while; and you will settle the bother with Acutilius. The latter point Peducaeus too suggested that I should mention to you: we think it would be much better for you to get the thing settled at last. I am and have long been ready to use my influence for you. You would never believe how pleased every one is with my conduct of Macer’s case. I might certainly have shown more partiality to him: but the popularity I have gained from his condemnation is far more important to me than his gratitude at an acquittal would have been.

I am delighted at your news about the Hermathena. It is a most suitable ornament for my Academy, since no class-room is complete without a Hermes, and Minerva has a special appropriateness in mine. So please do as you suggest and send as many ornaments as possible for the place. The statues you sent before I have not seen yet. They are in my house at Formiae, where I am just thinking of going. I’ll have them all brought to my place at Tusculum, and, if that ever gets too full, I’ll begin decorating Caieta. Keep your books and don’t despair of my making them mine some day. If I ever do, I shall be the richest of millionaires and shan’t envy any man his manors and meadows.

You, who know me so well, can guess better than anyone the grief I have felt at the death of my cousin Lucius and the loss it means to me both in my public and in my private life. He has always

15been kindness itself to me, and has rendered me every service a friend could. I am sure you too will feel it, partly out of sympathy with me, and partly because you will miss a dear and valued friend and relative, who was attached to you of his own accord and at my prompting.

You mention your sister. She herself will tell you the pains I have taken to make my brother Quintus behave as he should to her. When I thought he was a little annoyed, I wrote to him trying to smooth matters down with him as a brother, to give him good advice as my junior and to remonstrate with him as in error. Judging by all the letters I have had from him since, I trust things are as they should be and as we wish them to be.

You have no reason to complain of lack of letters from me, as Pomponia has never let me know when there was a messenger to give them to. Besides it has so happened that I have not had anyone starting for Epirus and have not yet heard of your arrival at Athens. Acutilius’ business I settled according to your directions, as soon as ever I got to Rome after your departure: but, as it happened, there was no hurry, and, knowing I could trust your good judgement, I preferred Peducaeus to advise you by letter rather than myself. It was not the bother of writing you an account of his grievances that I shirked. I spent several days listening to him, and you know his way of talking; and I did not mind, though it was a bit of a bore. Though you grumble at me, I’ve only had one letter from you, let me tell you, and you have had more time to write and a better chance of sending letters than I’ve had.

You say, “if so and so is a little annoyed with

17you,” I ought to patch things up. I know what you mean, and I’ve done my best: but he is in a very odd mood. I’ve said all I could for you. I think I ought to follow your wishes as to what special arguments I should use. If you will write and tell me your wishes, you will find that I did not wish to be more energetic than you were, nor will I be less energetic than you wish.

In that matter about Tadius’ property, he tells me you have written him that there is no necessity for him to trouble any more about it: the property is his by right of possession. I wonder you forgot, that in the case of legal wards—and that is what the girl is said to be—right of possession does not count. I am glad you like your new purchase in Epirus. Please carry out my commissions, and, as you suggest, buy anything else you think suitable for my Tusculan villa, if it is no trouble to you. It is the only place I find restful after a hard day’s work. I am expecting my brother Quintus every day. Terentia has a bad attack of rheumatism. She sends her love and best wishes to you and your sister and mother: and so does my little darling Tullia. Take care of yourself, and don’t forget me. Your devoted friend.

I’ll take care that you shall not have any reason to complain of my slackness in writing to you in the future. See to it yourself that you keep up with me. You have plenty of spare time. M. Fontius has bought Rabirius’ house at Naples, which you had in your mind’s eyes ready mapped out and finished,

19for about £1150.^[6] I mention it in case you still hanker after it. My brother is getting on as well as we can wish, I think, with Pomponia. He is living with her at his estate at Arpinum now, and has with him a littérateur, D. Turranius. My poor father died on November the 27th.

That is about all my budget of news. If you can come across any articles of vertu fit for my Gymnasium, please don’t let them slip. You know the place and what suits it. I’m so pleased with my house at Tusculum that I am never really happy except when I am there. Send me a full account of your doings and of what you are thinking of doing.

Things are all right at your mother’s: and I have got my eye on her. I’ve arranged to deposit £180^[7] with L. Cincius on February the 13th. Please hurry up with the things you say you have bought and got ready for me. I want them as soon as possible. And keep your promise to consider how you can secure the library for me. All my hopes of enjoying myself, when I retire, rest on your kindness.

All’s well—as well as could be desired—at home. Quintus and I are looking after your mother and sister. I’ve spoken to Acutilius. He says his broker has not advised him, and is much surprised there should have been such a fuss because he refused to guarantee that there should be no further claims on you. The settlement that you have arranged about Tadius’ affairs is, I am sure, very good news for him, and he is pleased about it. That friend of mine, who is really quite a good soul and very amiable to me, is exceedingly annoyed with you. When I know how deeply you take it to heart, I may be able to lay my plans accordingly.

I have raised the £180^[8] for L. Cincius for the statues of Megaric marble, as you advised me. Those figures of Hermes in Pentelic marble with bronze heads, about which you wrote, I have already fallen in love with: so please send them and anything else that you think suits the place, and my enthusiasm for such things, and your own taste—the more the merrier, and the sooner the better—especially those you intend for the Gymnasium and the colonnade. For my appreciation for art treasures is so great that I am afraid most people will laugh at me, though I expect encouragement from you. If none of Lentulus’ boats are coming, put them on any ship you like. My little darling, Tullia, keeps asking for your promised present and duns me as though I were answerable for you. But I am going to deny my obligation rather than pay up.

Your letters are much too few and far between, considering that it is much easier for you to find some one coming to Rome than for me to find anyone going to Athens. Besides you can be surer that I am at Rome than I can be that you are in Athens. The shortness of this letter is due to my doubts as to your whereabouts. Not knowing for certain where you are, I don’t want private correspondence to fall into a stranger’s hands.

I am awaiting impatiently the statues of Megaric marble and those of Hermes, which you mentioned in your letter. Don’t hesitate to send anything else of the same kind that you have, if it is fit for my Academy. My purse is long enough. This is my little weakness; and what I want especially are those that are fit for a Gymnasium. Lentulus promises his ships. Please bestir yourself about it. Thyillus asks you, or rather has got me to ask you, for some books on the ritual of the Eumolpidae.

When I was in my house at Tusculum—that’s tit for tat against your “When I was in Ceramicus”—but when I really was there, your sister sent a man from Rome with a letter from you, and told me that some one was going to start for Greece that very afternoon. So for lack of time I must make a very short answer to your letter.

25First I promise to patch up the quarrel between you and our friend, even if I cannot quite make peace. I should have done it before of my own accord: but now that I see from your note that you have set your heart on it, I’ll give my mind to it and try harder than ever to win him over. I would have you to know that he is very seriously annoyed with you: but, as I cannot see any serious ground for his annoyance, I hope I shall find him pliable and amenable to my influence.

Please do as you say about the statues and the Hermeraclae: and have them shipped as soon as you can conveniently, and any other things you come across that are suitable for the place—you know what it is like—especially for the Palaestra and Gymnasium. That’s where I am sitting and writing now, so my thoughts naturally run on it. I give you a commission too for bas-reliefs for insertion in the stucco walls of the hall, and for two well-covers in carved relief. Be sure you don’t promise your library to anyone, however ardent a suitor you may find for it. I am saving up all my little gleanings to buy it as a prop for my old age.

My brother’s affairs are, I trust, as I have always wished them to be and striven to make them. Everything points that way, and not the least that your sister is enceinte. As for my election, I’ve not forgotten that I gave you leave to stop away: and I’ve already warned our common friends, who expect you to come, that I’ve not only forborne to ask you to do so, but even forbidden it, knowing that present business is of much more importance to you than your presence at my election would be to me. I should like you to feel exactly as though it were my business which

27had taken you away. And you will find and hear from others that my feelings towards you are just as they would be if my success, supposing I have any, were gained not only with you here, but by your aid.

My little Tullia is for having the law of you, and is dunning me as your representative.

I had been working for you of my own free will, and my energies were redoubled by the receipt of two letters from you insisting on the same point. Besides Sallustius was continually pressing me to do my best to replace you on your old friendly footing with Lucceius. But when I had done the uttermost, I failed not only to win back his old affection for you, but even to extract from him the reason for his change of feelings towards you. Though he is continually harping on that arbitration case of his, and the other things which I noticed provoked him when you were here, there is something else, I am sure, which is rankling in his mind. And this your presence, a talk with him, and still more the sight of your familiar face, would do more to remove than either your letters or my services as intermediary, if you think it worth while to come. And, if you will listen to me and are disposed to act with your usual courtesy, you will certainly think it worth while. You would never believe how self-willed and stiff-necked he seems to be on the point: so don’t be astonished that I now appear to doubt my ability to manage him, though in former letters I hinted that I thought he would

29be under my thumb. But that will be all put right when you come, or he will smart for it who deserves it.

You say in your note that my election is thought certain; but let me tell you that candidates are plagued to death nowadays with all sorts of unfairness, and even the date of the election is not fixed. But you will hear about that from Philadelphus.

Please send what you have purchased for my Academy as soon as possible. It is astonishing how the mere thought of the place raises my spirits even when I am not in it. Be sure you don’t get rid of your books. Keep them for me as you promise. My enthusiasm for them increases with my disgust at everything else. You would never believe how changed for the worse you will find everything has been in the short time you have been away.

Teucris^[9] is an unconscionably slow coach and Cornelius has never come back to Terentia: so I suppose I shall have to turn to Considius, Axius or Selicius. Even his relatives can’t screw a penny out of Caecilius at less than 12 per cent. But to return to the point; Teucris’ behaviour is the most shameless mixture of cunning and laziness I have ever seen. “I’m sending a freedman,” says she, or “I’ve given Titus a commission.” All excuses and delays! But perhaps “dieu dispose”;^[10] for Pompey’s advance party bring news that he is going to move for Antony’s

31retirement, and a praetor will bring the motion forward. Under my circumstances I couldn’t honourably champion him. I should lose the respect of both parties if I did: and what’s more, I wouldn’t, if I could, in view of certain things that have happened, to which I should like to call your attention. There’s a freedman of mine, an utter scoundrel—Hilarus I mean—an accountant and a client of yours. Valerius the interpreter sends me news of him, and Thyillus says he has heard too that the fellow is with Antony, and that Antony, when he is making requisitions, always asserts that part is levied on my authority, and that I have sent a freedman to look after my share. I am considerably annoyed, though I hardly believe the story: but there has been a good deal of talk. Look into the matter thoroughly and try to get to the bottom of it, and, if you possibly can, get that rascal shifted. Valerius mentioned Cn. Plancius as his authority for the statement. I leave the whole matter entirely in your hands to investigate.

I am assured that Pompey is on the best of terms with me. Mucia’s divorce meets with every one’s approval. I expect you have heard that P. Clodius, son of Appius, was discovered in woman’s clothes in C. Caesar’s house, where the sacrifice was going on: but a servant girl managed to smuggle him out. It has created a public scandal: and I am sure you will be sorry to hear of it.

I don’t think I have any other news for you: and I’m sorry to say I’ve been rather upset while writing. My reader Sositheus, a charming fellow, has died; and I am more upset about it than anyone would suppose I should be about a slave’s death. Please

33write frequently. If you’ve no news, write the first thing that comes into your head.

Jan. 1, in the consulship of M. Messalla and M. Piso.

I have had your three letters: one from M. Cornelius, to whom you gave it, I think at the Three Taverns; another brought by your host at Canusium; and a third which you say you posted from the boat just as you got under weigh. All three of them were, as a pupil in the rhetorical schools would say, at once sprinkled with the salt of refinement and stamped with the brand of affection. They certainly provoke an answer: but I have been rather slow about sending one, for lack of a safe messenger. There are very few who can carry a letter of weight without lightening it by a perusal. Besides, I don’t hear of every traveller to Epirus. For I suppose, when you have offered sacrifice at your villa Amalthea, you will start at once to lay siege to Sicyon. I’m not certain either how or when you are going to join Antony or how long you will stay in Epirus. So I dare not trust at all outspoken letters to people going either to Achaia or to Epirus.

Plenty of things have happened worth writing about since your departure, but I dared not commit them to the risk of the letters being either lost or opened or intercepted. First then let me tell you I was not asked my opinion first in the House, but had to play second fiddle to the “peace-maker” of the

35Allobroges.^[13] Nor did I mind much, though the senate murmured disapproval. It has freed me from the necessity of bowing to a crotchety individual, and sets me at liberty to preserve my political dignity in spite of him. The second place carries nearly as much weight with it as the first, and one’s actions are not so much bound by obligation to the consul. The third place fell to Catulus: the fourth, if you want to go as far, to Hortensius. The consul is petty-minded and perverse, a quibbler who used that bitter kind of sarcasm, which raises a laugh even when there is no wit in the words, on the strength of his expression rather than his expressions. He is no politician at all, he stands aloof from the conservatives: and one cannot expect him to render any good services to the state, because he does not wish to do so, nor any bad, because he does not dare. But his colleague is most polite to me, a keen politician and a bulwark of the conservative party. There is a slight difference of opinion between them at present: but I am afraid that the contagion may spread. No doubt you have heard that, when the sacrifice was taking place in Caesar’s house, a man in woman’s clothes got in; and that after the Vestal Virgins had performed the sacrifice afresh, the matter was mentioned in the House by Cornificius. Note that he was the prime mover and none of us. Then a resolution was passed, the matter was referred to the Virgins and the priests, and they pronounced it a sacrilege. So the consuls were directed by the House to bring in a bill about it. Caesar has divorced his wife. Piso’s friendship

37for Clodius is making him do his best to have the bill shelved, though he is the person who has to bring it forward under the House’s orders—and a bill for sacrilege too! Messalla at present takes a strict view of the case. The conservatives are dropping out of it under persuasion from Clodius. Gangs of rowdies are being formed. I, who at first was a perfect Lycurgus, am daily cooling down. Cato, however, is pressing the case with energy. But enough. I am afraid that what with the lack of interest shown in the case by the conservatives, and its championship by the socialists, it may cause a lot of mischief to the state. Your friend^[14]—you know whom I mean, the man who, you say, began to praise me as soon as he feared to blame me—is now parading his affection for me openly and ostentatiously; but in his heart of hearts he is envious, and he does not disguise it very well. He is totally lacking in courtesy, candour, in brilliancy in his politics, as well as in sense of honour, resolution and generosity. But I’ll write more fully about that another time. I’ve not got hold of the facts properly yet, and I dare not trust an important letter to a man in the street like this messenger.

The praetors have not drawn their provinces yet: and things are just as they were when you left. I will insert a description of Misenum and Puteoli in my speech as you suggest. I had already spotted the mistake in the date, Dec. 3. The passages in my speeches which took your fancy were, do you know, just those that I was proud of, but didn’t like to say so before: and after Atticus’ approval they look much more Attic in my eyes. I have added a

39little to my reply to Metellus. I’ll send the book to you since your affection for me has given you a taste for rhetoric.

Is there any news to tell you? Let me see—yes. The consul Messalla has bought Autronius’ house for £1200.^[15] What business is that of mine, you will ask. Only that it proves that my house was a good investment, and is beginning to open people’s eyes to the fact that it is quite legitimate to make use of a friend’s pocket to buy a place that gives one a social position. That Teucris is a slow coach; but it is not hopeless yet. Mind you get your part finished. I’ll write less guardedly soon.

Jan. 25, in the consulship of M. Messalla and M. Piso.

I’m afraid you’ll be heartily sick of my pleas of business, but I’m so driven from pillar to post that I can hardly find time for these few lines, and even that I have to snatch from important business. I have already written and told you what Pompey’s first public speech was like. The poor did not relish it, the socialists thought it pointless, the rich were not pleased with it, and the conservatives were dissatisfied: so it fell flat. Then at the instance of the consul Piso, an untrustworthy tribune, Fufius, must

41needs trot out Pompey to deliver an harangue. This happened in the Circus Flaminius, where there was the usual market-day gathering of riff-raff. Fufius asked him whether he agreed with the proposal that the praetor should have the selection of the jurymen and then use them as his panel. That of course was the plan proposed by the Senate in Clodius’ trial for sacrilege. To this Pompey replied en grand seigneur that he felt and always had felt the greatest respect for the Senate’s authority; and very long-winded he was about it. Afterwards the consul Messalla asked Pompey in the Senate for his opinion on the sacrilege and the proposed bill. He delivered a speech eulogizing the Senate’s measures en bloc, and said to me as he sat down at my side, that he thought he had given a sufficiently clear answer to “those questions.” Crassus no sooner saw that he had won public appreciation, because people fancied that he approved of my consulship, than up he got and spoke of it in the most complimentary way. He said that he owed his seat in the House, his privileges as a citizen, his freedom and his very life, to me. He never saw his wife’s face, or his home, or his native land, without recognizing the debt he owed to me. But enough. He worked up with great effect all that purple patch which I so often use here and there to adorn my speeches, to which you play Aristarchus^[16]—the passage about fire and sword—you know the paints I have on my palette. I was sitting next to Pompey, and noticed that he was much affected, possibly at seeing Crassus

43snap up the chance of winning popularity, which he had thrown away, and perhaps at realizing the importance of my achievements, when he saw that praise of them met with the Senate’s entire approval, especially coming from one who had all the less necessity to praise me, because in every one of my works he has been censured for Pompey’s benefit. To-day has done a great deal to cement my friendship with Crassus: but still I gladly received any crumbs Pompey let fall openly or covertly.^[17] As for me, ye gods, how I showed off before my new listener Pompey! Then, if ever, my flow of rounded periods, my easy transitions, my antitheses, my constructive arguments stood me in good stead. In a word, loud applause! For the gist of it was the importance of the Senatorial order, its unison with the knights, the concord of all Italy, the paralysed remains of the conspiracy, peace and plenty. You know how I can thunder on a subject like that. This time my thunders were so loud that I forbear to say any more about them. I expect you heard them right over there.

Well, there you have the news of the town. The Senate is a perfect Areopagus, all seriousness, steadfastness and firmness. For when the time came for passing the Senate’s measure, all those callow youths, Catiline’s cubs, met under the leadership of Curio’s feminine son, and asked the people to reject it. The consul Piso had to propose the law, but spoke against it. Clodius’ rowdies held the gangways; and the voting papers were so managed that no placet forms were given out. Then you have Cato flying to the

45rostrum and giving Piso a slap in the face, if one can say “slap in the face” of an utterance full of dignity, full of authority, and full of saving counsel. Our friend Hortensius joined him too, and many other loyalists, Favonius particularly distinguishing himself for his energy. This rally of the conservatives broke up the meeting, and the Senate was called together. In a full house a resolution was passed that persuasion should be used to induce the people to accept the measure, though Piso opposed it and Clodius went down on his knees to us one by one. Some fifteen supported Curio’s rejection of the bill, while the opposite party numbered easily 400. That settled the matter. Funfius the tribune collapsed. Clodius delivered some pitiful harangues, in which he hurled reproaches at Lucullus, Hortensius, C. Piso, and the consul Messalla: me he only twitted with my sensational discoveries.^[19] The Senate decided that no action was to be taken as to the distribution of provinces among the praetors, hearing of legations or anything else, till this measure was passed.

There you have the political situation. But there is one piece of news I must tell you, as it is better than I expected. Messalla is an excellent consul, resolute, reliable and energetic: for me he expresses admiration and respect, and shows it by imitating me. That other fellow has only one redeeming vice, laziness, sleepiness, ignorance, and fainéance: but at heart he is such a mauvais sujet that he began to

47detest Pompey after that speech of his in praise of the Senate. So he is at daggers drawn with all the patriotic party. It was not so much friendship for Clodius that induced him to act like this as a taste for knaves and knavery. But there are none of his kidney in office except Fufius. Our tribunes of the people are all sound men, and Cornutus is Cato’s double. Can I say more?

Now for private affairs. Teucris has kept her promise. Do you carry out the commissions you received. My brother Quintus has bought the remaining three-quarters of his house on the Argiletum for £6000,^[20] and is selling his place at Tusculum to buy Pacilius’ house, if he can. I’ve made it up with Lucceius. I see he’s got the office-seeking complaint badly. I’ll do my best for him. Please keep me posted up in your doings, your address and the progress of our affairs. 13 Febr.

You have heard that that good brother of mine, Quintus, has Asia assigned him as his province. I’ve no doubt a rumour of it has reached you before any of our letters. We have always had a keen regard for our reputation, and both are and are considered unusually Philhellenic, and our public services have won us a host of ill-wishers. So now is the time for you to “screw your courage to the sticking-place,” Iliad xxii, 8| and help us to secure universal applause and approval. I will write further about it in a letter which I shall

49give to Quintus himself. Please let me know which of my orders you have carried out, and how your own affairs are getting on. I haven’t had a single letter from you since you left Brundisium: and I badly want to know how you are. March 15.

You ask what can have happened about the trial to give it such an unexpected ending, and you want to know, too, why I showed less fight than usual. Well! In my answer I’ll put the cart before the horse like Homer. So long as I had to defend the Senate’s decree, I fought so fiercely and doughtily, that cheering crowds rallied round me enthusiastic in my applause. You would certainly have marvelled at my courage on this occasion, if ever you credited me with any courage in my country’s defence. When Clodius fell back on speechifying and took my name in vain, didn’t I just show fight, didn’t I deal havoc! How I charged Piso, Curio, and all that crowd! Didn’t I rate the old men for their frivolity, the young for their wanton passions! Heaven is my witness, I often wanted you not only to prompt my plans, but also to be a spectator of my doughty deeds. But when Hortensius had conceived the idea of letting Fufius bring in his bill about the sacrilege, which only differed from the consular measure in the method of choosing the jury—though that was the point on which everything turned—and fought for his own way, under the impression, which he had also conveyed to others, that no conceivable

51jury could acquit Clodius, I drew in a reef or two, not being blind to the impecuniosity of the jurymen. I confined my testimony to points so thoroughly well-known and attested that I could not omit them. So, to come at last to the “horse,” if you want to know the reason for his acquittal, it lay in the jury’s lack of pence and of conscience. But it was Hortensius’ plan that made such a result possible. In his fright that Fufius might veto the Senate’s measure, he overlooked the fact that it would be better for Clodius to be kept in disgrace with a trial hanging over his head, than for the case to come before an unsound court. Spurred on by hatred, he rushed the matter into court, saying that a leaden sword was sharp enough to cut Clodius’ throat.

If you want to know about the trial, the result of it was so incredible that now after the event everybody agrees with my forebodings and blames Hortensius. The challenging of the jury took place amidst an uproar, since the prosecutor like a good censor rejected all the knaves, and the defendant like a kind-hearted trainer of gladiators set aside all the respectable people. And as soon as the jury took their seats, the patriotic party began to have grave misgivings: for never did a more disreputable set of people get together even in a gambling hell. Senators with a past, knights without a penny, tribunes whose only right to a title implying pay lay in their readiness to take it.^[21] The few honest folk among them, that he had not managed to remove in his selection, sat as woe-begone as fish out of water,

53sadly upset and bemoaning their contact with infamy. At the preliminary proceedings, as point after point was put before the jury, their strict and unanimous uprightness was extraordinary. The defendant never won a point, and the prosecution were granted more than they asked for. It goes without saying that Hortensius was triumphant at his penetration; and no one regarded Clodius so much as a man on his trial as one that had been condemned a thousand times over.

You have no doubt heard how the jury rose in a body to protect me, when I stepped into the witness-box and Clodius’ supporters began to hoot: and how they offered their throats to Clodius’ sword in defence of me. Thereby, to my mind they paid me a far higher compliment than your fellow-citizens paid Xenocrates, when they refused to let him take the oath before giving his testimony, or our Roman jury paid Metellus Numidicus, when they would not look at the accounts which he passed round as is usual in such cases. I repeat, the honour shown me was far greater. The shouts of the jury, proclaiming me as the saviour of the country crushed and annihilated the defendant and all his supporters. And on the next day a crowd as great as that which conducted me home at the end of my consulship gathered round me. Our noble Areopagites declared they would not come without a guard. The votes of the court were taken, and there was only one person who voted a guard unnecessary. The point was laid before the Senate, who passed a decree in the strongest and most complimentary terms, thanking the jury and referring the matter to the magistrates. No one thought Clodius would defend his case. “Tell me Iliad xvi, 112| now, ye Muses, how first the fire fell.”

55You know Baldpate of Nanneian fame,^[22] my late panegyrist, whose complimentary speech in my honour I have already mentioned in my letters; well, he managed the whole job in a couple of days with the help of one slave and that an ex-prizefighter. He sent for everybody, made promises, gave security, paid money down. Good heavens, what a scandal there was! Even the favours of certain ladies and introductions to young men of good family were given to some of the jury to swell the bribe. All honest men withdrew entirely from the case and the forum was full of slaves. Yet five and twenty of the jury were brave enough to risk their necks, preferring death to treachery: but there were thirty-one who were more influenced by famine than fame. Catulus meeting one of these latter remarked to him: “Why did you ask for a guard? For fear of having your pocket picked?” There you have as short a summary as possible of the trial and the reason for the acquittal.

You want to know next what is the present state of public affairs, and how I am getting on. We thought that the condition of the Republic had been set on a firm footing, you by my prudence, I by divine interposition: and that its preservation was secured and established by the combination of all patriots and by the influence of my consulship. But, let me tell you, unless some god remembers us, it has been dashed from our grasp by this one trial, if one can call it a trial, when thirty of the

57most worthless scoundrels in Rome have blotted out right and justice for filthy lucre, and when Hodge and John a Nokes and Tom a Styles and all the riff-raff of that description have declared a thing not to have happened which every man—man did I say?—nay, every beast of the field, knows for a fact. Still—to give you some consolation about politics—the country has not received so serious a blow as traitors wished, nor is iniquity vaunting itself so rampantly on its victory. For they clearly thought that, when religious and moral scruples, judicial honour and the Senate’s authority had been destroyed, iniquity and lust would triumph openly, and would wreak their vengeance on all honest folk for the brand that had been stamped on vice by my consulship. I was the man—I don’t think I am boasting unduly in saying so to you privately, especially in a letter which I would rather you didn’t read to anyone—I was the man who revived the fainting courage of the patriots, encouraging and cheering them one by one. I attacked and routed that venal jury; and I did not leave the victorious party and its supporters a word to say for themselves. The consul Piso I did not leave an inch to stand on. Syria, which had been promised him as his province, I wrested from him. The Senate I aroused from its despondency, recalling it to its former uprightness. Clodius I bearded and crushed in the Senate with a set speech full of dignity, and then with a cross-examination, of which I will give you a taste. The rest would lose both its verve and its wit, when the fire of battle is out, and the tug-of-war, as you Greeks call it, past. When I entered the House on the 15th of May, and was asked for my opinion, I discussed politics at length, and by a

59happy inspiration introduced this passage: “The Senate must not be crushed by a single blow, they must not be faint-hearted. The wound is such that it cannot be disguised, yet it must not be feared, lest by our fear we prove ourselves abject cowards, or by ignoring it, very fools. Lentulus twice obtained an acquittal, and Catiline as often, and this is the third criminal let loose on the country by a jury. But you are mistaken, Clodius. The jury saved you for the gallows, not for public life: their object was not to keep you in the country, but to keep you from leaving it. Keep up your hearts, then, senators, and preserve your dignity. The feelings of all patriots are unchanged; they have suffered grief, but their courage is undiminished. It is no new disaster that has befallen us, we have merely discovered one that existed unnoticed. The trial of one villain has revealed many as guilty as himself.” But there, I’ve nearly copied the whole speech. Now for our passage of arms. Up gets this pretty boy and reproaches me with spending my time at Baiae. It was a lie: and anyhow what did it matter? “One would think,” said I, “you were accusing me of spending my time in hiding.” “What need has a man of Arpinum to take the waters?” asks Clodius: and I answered: “You should talk like that to your patron^[24] who wanted to take the waters of a man of Arpinum,”—you know about the sea-water baths. “How long are we going to let this man king it over us?” says he. “I wonder you mention the word king,” I replied, “since King^[25] did not mention you.” He had

61been dying to inherit Kind’s money. “You have bought a house,” he says. “You seem to think it is the same as buying a jury,” I answer. “They did not credit you on your oath,” he remarks. To which I answer: “Twenty-five jurymen credited me: the other thirty-one gave you no credit, but took care to get their money first.” There was loud applause, and he collapsed without a word, utterly crushed.

My own position is this. I have retained the influence I had, when you left, over the conservative party, and have gained much more influence over the sordid dregs of the populace than I had then. That my testimony was not accepted does me no harm. My unpopularity has been tapped like a dropsy and painlessly reduced, and another thing has done me even more good: the supporters of that crime confess that that open scandal was due to bribery. Besides that blood-sucker of the treasury, the wretched and starveling mob, thinks I am a prime favourite with the “great man” Pompey, and upon my soul we are upon terms of very pleasant intimacy—so much so indeed that these bottle-conspirators, these youths with budding beards in common table-talk call him Gnaeus Cicero. So both at the games and at the gladiatorial shows, I have been the object of extraordinary demonstrations without hisses or catcalls.

Now every one is looking forward to the elections. Our “great” Pompey is pushing Aulus’ son amidst general disapproval: and the means he is using are neither authority nor influence, but those which Philip said, would storm any fort to which an ass laden with money could climb. Piso is said to be playing second fiddle to Pompey and to have bribery-agents

63in his house: but I don’t believe it. But two decrees have been passed on the proposal of Cato and Domitius, which are unpopular because they are thought to be directed against the consul; one, making it lawful to search the house of any magistrate, and the other making it a treasonable offence to have bribery agents in one’s house. The tribune Lurco, who entered on his office under another law,^[28] has been freed from the obligations of the Aelian and Fufian laws, so that he may propose his law about bribery. He had luck in publishing it in spite of his deformity. Accordingly the elections have been postponed till the 27th of July. The new point about this law is that a mere promise to bribe the tribesmen counts for nothing, if it is not fulfilled; but, if it is fulfilled, the man who made it is liable for life to a fine of £27^[29] per tribe. I remarked Clodius had kept this law before it was passed: for he is always promising and not paying. But, I say, if he^[30] gets in, that consulship of mine which Curio used to call a deification will become an absolute farce.^[31] So, I suppose I must take to philosophy

65like yourself, and not give a button for consulships.

You write that you have made up your mind not to go to Asia. I would rather you did go, and I am afraid it may cause unpleasantness if you do not. But I cannot blame your determination, especially as I have refused to go to a province.

I shall be contented with the inscriptions you have put in your Amaltheum, especially as Thyillus has deserted me and Archias has not written anything about me. I am afraid, now he has written his Greek poem on the Luculli, he is turning to the Caecilian drama. I have thanked Antonius on your behalf, and given that letter to Mallius. My letters to you up to now have been fewer than they should have been, as I had no trusty messenger nor any certain address to send them to. I have sung your praises loudly. If Cincius delegates any of your business to me, I will undertake it. But just at present he is more concerned with his own, in which I am ready to assist him. Expect frequent letters from me, if you are settled: and send me even more. Please write me a description of your Amaltheum, its adornment and situation; and send me any poems and tales you have about Amalthea. I should like to make one too in my place at Arpinum. I will send you some of my writings: but there is nothing finished.

Your letter and the enclosed copy of one of my brother Quintus’ letters show me that he has continually changed his mind and wavered in his opinion and judgement. I am exceedingly disturbed

67about it, as indeed I could not help being, considering my affection for both of you, and I wonder what can have happened to cause my brother Quintus such grave offence and to make him change his mind so extraordinarily. I grasped some time ago, what I think you were beginning to suspect, when you left, that at the bottom of it must be some idea of an insult, and that his feelings were wounded and some unpleasant suspicions had taken deep root. Though I often before sought to heal the wound, and redoubled my efforts after the allotment of his province, I could neither find that he was as much annoyed as your letter makes out, nor yet make as much headway with him as I wished. However, I used to console myself with the thought that he would be sure to see you either at Dyrrachium or somewhere thereabout. And I had quite made up my mind that when that occurred, all the difficulties between you would be smoothed over as much by the mere sight of one another and the pleasure of meeting as by conversation and discussion. For I need not tell you, who know it yourself, how amiable and kindly my brother Quintus is, and how sensitive he is and ready both to take offence and to forget it. But it has happened most unfortunately that you have not seen him anywhere. For the impression he has received from some designing persons has had more weight with him than either his duty or your old intimacy and affection which ought to have had the greatest weight of all. Where the blame for this unpleasantness rests, it is easier for me to imagine than to write. For I am afraid that in defending my relatives I may not spare yours. For my view is that, even if no wound was inflicted

69by members of the family, they could certainly have healed the one which existed. But the real fault of the whole matter, which is of rather wider extent than it appears, I can explain to you more conveniently when we meet. As to the letter which he sent to you from Thessalonica and the language which you think he used about you both to your friends at Rome and on his journey, I cannot see any sufficient cause for them; but all my hope of removing this unpleasantness lies in your kindness. For if you can persuade yourself that the best of men are often those whose feelings are easy to arouse and easy to appease, and that this nimbleness, if I may use the word, and sensitiveness of disposition are generally signs of a good heart, and—what is the main point—that we must put up with one another’s unpleasantnesses and faults and insults, then, as I hope, all this can be smoothed over easily. This I beg of you to do. For, as I hold you in such peculiar esteem, it is my dearest wish that there may not be any of my people who either does not love you or is not loved by you.

That part of your letter in which you mention the chances of preferment in the provinces or in town, which you neglected in my consulship and at other times, was most unnecessary, for I am thoroughly persuaded of your disinterestedness and magnanimity, and I have never thought that there was any difference between you and me, except our choice of a career. A touch of ambition led me to seek for distinction, while another perfectly laudable motive led you to honourable ease. But in the real glory which consists in uprightness, industry and piety, there is no one I place above you, not even myself, and as

71regards affection to myself, after my brother and my immediate connections, I give you the palm. For I have seen time after time, and have had thorough experience of your sorrow and your joy in my changing fortunes. I have often had the pleasure of your congratulations in times of triumph and the comfort of your consolation in hours of despondency. Nay at this very moment your absence makes me feel the lack not only of your advice, which you excel in giving, but of the interchange of speech, which I enjoy most with you. I hardly know if I miss it most in politics, where I dare not make a slip; or in my legal work, which I used to undertake for advancement’s sake and now keep up to preserve my position through popularity; or in my private concerns. In all of them I have felt your loss all along and especially since my brother’s departure. Finally, neither my work nor my recreation, neither my business nor my leisure, neither my legal affairs nor my domestic, my public life or my private, can do without your most agreeable and affectionate advice and conversation any longer.

The modesty of both of us has often prevented me from mentioning these facts: but now it was forced upon me by that part of your letter in which you say you want yourself and your character cleared and vindicated in my eyes. There is one good thing as regards the unpleasantness caused by his alienation and anger, that your determination not to go to the province was known to me and other friends of yours, as you told us some time before; so the fact that you are not with him cannot be attributed to your quarrel and rupture, but to your choice and plans already fixed. So amends will be made for

73the breach of friendship; and the ties between us, which have been so religiously preserved, will retain their inviolability.

The political position here is wretched, rotten and unstable. I expect you have heard that our friends the knights have almost had a rupture with the Senate. The first point that seriously annoyed them was the publication of a senatorial decree for an investigation into any cases of bribery of jurymen. As I did not happen to be present when the decree was passed, and noticed that the knights were annoyed though they did not openly say so, I remonstrated with the Senate very impressively, I think, and spoke with great weight and fluency, considering how shameless the case was. Here is another intolerable piece of petulance on the part of the knights! Yet I have not only put up with it, but forwarded their cause. The people who farmed the province of Asia from the censors, complained in the Senate that their avariciousness had led them to pay too high a price for it, and requested to have the lease annulled. I was their chief supporter, or rather the second, for it was Crassus who encouraged them to venture on the demand. It is a scandalous affair, a disgraceful request and a confession of foolhardiness. There was considerable danger, that, if they met with a refusal, they might have severed their connection with the Senate entirely. In this case too I was the main person who came to the rescue, and obtained for them a hearing in a very full and friendly House, and discoursed freely on the dignity and harmony of the two orders both on the first of December and the following day. The matter is not yet settled: but the Senate’s inclination is clear. For one person

75only has opposed it, Metellus the consul elect. Our hero Cato was to have spoken, but the day was too short for it to come to his turn. So I am keeping to our policy and plan, and am preserving to the best of my ability that harmony which I have welded: but still, as that is now in such a shaky condition, I am, I hope, keeping a road open to preserve my position. I cannot explain fully in a letter; but I will give you a gentle hint. I am on the best of terms with Pompey. You know what I mean. I will take all reasonable precautions, and will write again at fuller length as to my plans for managing the republic.

Lucceius is thinking of standing for the consulship at once: for only two candidates are spoken of as likely to come forward. With Caesar he thinks he may come to terms through Arrius, and Bibulus’ cooperation he hopes to win through C. Piso. You smile? There is nothing to laugh at, I assure you. Is there anything else I want to tell you? Anything else? Yes, lots of things, but another time ... you wish to wait (?), let me know. At present I have one modest request to make, though it is my chief desire: that you come as soon as possible.

5 December.

Believe me, there is nothing I want so much at the present time, as a person with whom I can share anything that causes me the least anxiety, a man of affection and common sense, to whom I can speak without affectation, reserve, or concealment. My

77brother, who is the most unaffected of persons and most affectionate, is away. Metellus is not a human being, but “sea-shore and airy void and desert waste.”^[35] And you whose conversation and advice have so often lightened my load of care and anxiety, who have aided me in my political life, been my confident in my family affairs and shared my conversations and projects—where are you? So utterly am I deserted, that the only moments of repose I have are those which are spent with my wife, my little daughter and darling boy. For my grand and showy friendships bring some public éclat, but private satisfaction they have none. And so, when my house has been crowded with the morning levée and I have gone down to the forum amid a throng of friends, I cannot find in the whole company a single man with whom I can jest freely or whisper familiarly. So I look forward with longing to your coming and in fact urge you to hurry: for I have many cares and anxieties, which I fancy would be banished by a single walk and talk in your sympathetic hearing.

However, I will conceal the stings and pricks of my private troubles, and will not entrust them to this letter and an unknown messenger. They are not very grievous—so don’t alarm yourself—but still they are persistent and worrying, and I have no friend’s advice and discussion to lull them to rest. For the State, though there is still life in it, the very cures that have been tried on it, have again and again opened fresh wounds. If I were to give you a brief summary of what has happened since you left, you would certainly exclaim that Rome cannot possibly stand any longer. For it was after your departure, I believe, that the opening scene of the

79Clodian drama became the topic of discussion. There I thought I had a chance of using the surgeon’s knife on licentiousness and curbing youthful excesses: and I exerted myself, putting forth all the resources of my intellect and mind, not out of private spite, but in the hope of effecting a radical cure of the State. The corruption of the jury by bribery and debauchery dealt a crushing blow to the republic. See what has followed. We have had a consul forced on us, at whom no one except us philosophers can look without a sigh. That is a fatal stroke. Though a senatorial decree has been passed about the bribery of juries, no law has been carried; the Senate has been frightened out of it, and the knights have been estranged. So this one year has overturned two bulwarks of the State which had been erected by me alone: for it has destroyed the prestige of the Senate and broken up the harmony of the orders. Now comes this precious year. It was inaugurated by the suspension of the annual rites of the goddess of youth: for Memmius initiated M. Lucullus’ wife into some rites of his own. Menelaus took it hard and divorced his wife. Unlike the shepherd of Ida, who only slighted Menelaus, our modern Paris thought Agamemnon^[36] as fitting an object for his contempt. There is one C. Herennius, a tribune—you may not even know him, though perhaps you do, as he is a member of the same tribe as yourself, and his father Sextus used to distribute money to your tribesmen—he is trying to transfer P. Clodius to the plebs, and even proposes that the whole people shall vote on the matter in the Campus Martius. I gave him my

81usual reception in the Senate; but he is the most phlegmatic of mortals. Metellus is an excellent consul and an admirer of mine; but he has lessened his influence by making, only for form’s sake, the very same proposal about Clodius. But Aulus’ son—heavens above! what a cowardly and spiritless wretch for a soldier! Just fit to be exposed, as he is, to the daily abuse of Palicanus. An agrarian law has been proposed by Flavius,—a very paltry production, almost identical with the Plotian law. And in the meantime not the ghost of a real statesman is to be found. The man who could be one, my intimate friend—for so he is, I would have you to know—Pompey, wraps that precious triumphal cloak of his around him in silence. Crassus never utters a word to risk his popularity. The others you know well enough—fools who seem to hope that their fish-ponds may be saved, though the country go to rack and ruin. There is one who can be said to take some pains, but, according to my view, with more constancy and honesty than judgement and ability—Cato. It is now three months that he has been worrying those wretched tax-collectors, who used to be great friends of his, and won’t let the Senate give them an answer. So we are forced to suspend all decrees on other subjects until the tax-collectors have had an answer. And I suppose even the embassies^[37] will have to be postponed for the same reason.

Now you see the storm we have to weather; and, as you can grasp from what I have written with such emphasis, something of what I have left unwritten, come and see me again, for it is high time. Though

83what I invite you to you might well avoid, let your affection for me conquer even your objection under such unpleasant circumstances. I will see to it that notice is given and posted up everywhere, that you may not be entered on the census list as absent. But to get put on the roll just before the census is too thoroughly tradesman-like. So let me see you as soon as possible. Farewell.

Jan. 20 in the consulship of C. Metellus and L. Afranius.

If I had as much time as you have, or if I could bring myself to write such short letters as you generally write, I could beat you hollow and write far more frequently than you write. But on the top of my inconceivable stress of work, you have to add my habit of never sending you a letter without a theme and a moral. First, as one ought to a loyal citizen, I will give you a sketch of political events, and then, as I am the nearest in your affection, I will tell you any of my own affairs that I think you would not be disinclined to know.

In politics then at the present minute fears of war in Gaul are the main topic: for “our brothers” the Aedui have had a disastrous battle recently, and the Helvetii are undoubtedly in arms and making raids on our province. The Senate has decreed that the consuls should cast lots for the two Gauls, that levies should be made, furloughs cancelled, and ambassadors with full powers sent to visit the Gallic states and prevent them from joining the Aedui. The ambassadors are Quintus Metellus Creticus, and Lucius Flaccus, and—“the caper sauce on

85lenten fare”^[40]—Lentulus, son of Clodianus. And I cannot forbear adding here that when my lot came up first in the ballot among the ex-consuls, the Senate were unanimous in declaring that I should be kept in Rome. The same happened to Pompey after me, so that we two appear to be kept as pledges of the State. Why should I look for the “bravos” of strangers when these triumphs bloom for me at home?

Well, this is the state of affairs in the city. The agrarian law was zealously pushed by the tribune Flavius with the support of Pompey, though its only claim to popularity was its supporter. My proposal to remove from the law any points which encroached on private rights was favourably received by a public meeting. I proposed to exempt from its action such land as was public in the consulship of P. Mucius and L. Calpurnius,^[41] to confirm Sulla’s veterans in their possessions, to allow the people of Volaterra and Arretium to retain in their holding their land which Sulla had made public land, but had not distributed: the only clause I did not reject was that land should be purchased by this wind-fall which will come in from the new foreign revenues in the next five years. The Senate was opposed to the whole agrarian scheme, suspecting that Pompey was aiming at getting some new powers. Pompey had set his heart on carrying the law through. I on the other hand, with the full approval of the applicants for land, was for securing the holdings of all private

87persons—for, as you know, the strength of our party consists in the rich landed gentry—while at the same time I fulfilled my desire to satisfy Pompey and the populace by supporting the purchase of land, thinking that, if that were thoroughly carried out, the city might be emptied of the dregs of the populace, and the deserted parts of Italy peopled. But the matter has cooled off now this war has interrupted it. Metellus is an excellent consul and a great admirer of mine. The other one is an utter nonentity and clearly bought a pig in a poke when he got the consulship. That is all my political news, unless you think this has a bearing on politics. One Herennius, a tribune and fellow tribesman of yours, and a man of no character or position, has begun frequently proposing the transference of P. Clodius from a patrician to a plebeian; and his proposals are vetoed by many of his colleagues. This, I think, is all the public news.

For myself, ever since that December day when I won such splendid and immortal glory, though it carried with it much envy and enmity, I have not ceased to employ the same high-minded policy and to keep the position I have won and taken up. But, as soon as the acquittal of Clodius showed me the uncertainty and instability of the law courts, and I saw too how easily our friends the tax-gatherers could be estranged from the Senate, though they might not sever their connection with me, while the well-to-do—your friends with the fish-ponds, I mean—took no pains to disguise their envy of me, I bethought me that I had better look out for some stronger support and more secure protection. So firstly I brought Pompey, the man who had held his peace too long about

89my achievements, into a frame of mind for attributing to me the salvation of the empire and the world not once only, but time after time and with emphasis in the House. That was not so much for my own benefit—for my achievements were neither so obscure that they required evidence, nor so dubious that they required puffing up—but for the State’s sake, for there were some ill-natured persons who thought that there was a certain amount of disagreement between Pompey and myself, owing to a difference of opinion about those matters. With him I have formed such an intimate connection that both of us are strengthened in our policy and surer in our political position through our coalition. The dislike which had been aroused against me among our dissipated and dandified youths has been smoothed away by my affability, and now they pay me more attention than anyone. In short I avoid hurting anyone’s feelings, though I do not court popularity by relaxing my principles; indeed my whole conduct is regulated so, that, while I preserve my firmness in public life, in my private affairs the weakness of the loyal party, the prejudice of the disaffected and the hostility of the disloyal makes me move with some care and caution, and, involved though I am in my new friendships, I frequently have the refrain of Epicharmus, that subtle Sicilian, ringing in my ears:

There you have, I think, an outline sketch of my rule of life.

You keep writing about that business of yours; but at present I have no remedy for it. The decree

91was passed by the enthusiasm of the silent members^[42] without any support from our party. For as to my signature which you find attached to it, you can see from the decree itself that it was quite a different matter which was brought forward, and this clause about the free peoples was added without rhyme or reason. It was the work of P. Servilius the younger, who was one of the last to speak: but it cannot be altered at the present time. So the meetings which at first were held about it have ceased long ago. If, however, you should manage to squeeze a few pence out of the Sicyonians, please let me know.

I have sent you a copy of my account of my consulship in Greek. If there is anything in it, which to your Attic taste seems bad Greek or unscholarly, I will not say what Lucullus said to you—at Panhormus, I think—about his history, that he had interspersed a few barbarisms and solecisms as a clear proof that it was the work of a Roman. If there is anything of the kind in my work, it is there without my knowledge and against my will. When I have finished the Latin version, I will send it to you. In the third place you may expect a poem, not to let slip any method of singing my own praises. Please don’t quote “Who will praise his sire?”^[43] For if there is any more fitting subject for eulogy, then I am willing to be blamed for not choosing some other subject. However my compositions are not panegyrics at all but histories.

My brother Quintus has written exculpating himself and declaring that he never said a word against

93you to anyone. But that is a point we have to discuss very carefully when we meet, if only you will come and see me some time. This Cossinius, to whom I have given the letter, seems to me a very good steady sort of fellow, and devoted to you, exactly as you described him in your letter. March 15.

On my return from my villa at Pompeii on the 12th of May, our friend Cincius passed on to me your letter which was dated the 13th of February. That is the letter which I shall now answer. And first I must say how delighted I am that you fully understood my opinion of you: next how very glad I am that you showed such forbearance with regard to the slights and unkindness which in my opinion you had received from me and mine: and I count it a sign of affection more than ordinary and the highest sense and wisdom. Indeed your answer is so charmingly worded and with such consideration and kindliness that not only have I no further right to press you, but I can never expect to experience such courtesy and forbearance from you or any other man. So I think it would be best for me to say no more about the matter in my letters. If any point arises, we will discuss it together when we meet.

Your remarks about politics are couched in friendly and prudent terms, and your view does not differ from my own—for I must not withdraw from my dignified position, nor must I enter another’s lines without any forces of my own, and the man you mention has no broad-mindedness and no high-mindedness,

95nothing in him that is not low and time-serving. Well, perhaps the course I took was not opposed to my own advantage and peace of life, but I swear it was far more to the advantage of the State than to mine that I should be the means of suppressing the attacks of the disloyal, and of strengthening the wavering policy of a man of the highest position, influence and popularity, and converting him from pandering to the disloyal to approval of my achievements. If I had had to make any sacrifice of principle in so doing, I should never have thought it justifiable: but I managed it so that he seemed to gain in principle by his approval of me, more than I lost in bowing to him. I will take care that my actions now and in the future do not convey the impression that what I did in the past was done at haphazard. My honest comrades, at whom you hint, and the lot^[44] which has fallen to me, as you say, I will never desert. Nay, even if I am deserted by it I will abide by my ancient principles. But I would have you please remember that, since the death of Catulus, I am holding the way for the conservative party without a garrison and without a comrade. For, as Rhinton, I think it is, says:

How our friends of the fish-ponds envy me, I will either tell you in another letter, or keep it till we meet. But from the Senate house nothing shall tear me: either because that is the right course, or

97because it is most consistent with my position, or because I am by no means dissatisfied with the Senate’s estimation of me.

As regards the Sicyonians, there is very little hope to be placed in the Senate, as I wrote you before: for there is no one now to raise a complaint. It would be tedious to wait for them to move. Fight the point in some other way, if you can. When the law was passed, nobody noticed to whom it applied, and the dummy members plumped eagerly in its favour. The time has not yet come for rescinding the decree, because there is no one who complains about it, and some favour it, partly from spite and partly from an idea of its justness.

Your friend Metellus is an excellent consul: I have only one fault to find with him, he is not at all pleased with the news of peace from Gaul. I take it he wants a triumph. I wish he would moderate that desire: in every other way he is excellent. The behaviour of Aulus’s son makes his consulship not a consulship, but a blot on the scutcheon^[45] of our friend Pompey.

I have sent you one of my works, a history of my consulship in Greek. I have given it to L. Cossinius. I fancy you like my Latin work, but, being a Greek, envy this Greek one. If others write about it, I will send you copies; but I assure you, as soon as they read mine, they somehow or other don’t hurry themselves about it.

Now to return to business. L. Papirius Paetus, my good friend and admirer, has offered me the books left to him by Ser. Claudius: and, as your friend Cincius said I could take them without breaking the

99Cincian law^[46], I said I would very willingly accept, if he brought them here. Now, as you love me, as you know I love you, stir up all your friends, clients, guests, freedmen, nay even your slaves, to see that not a leaf is lost. For I have urgent necessity for the Greek works, which I suspect, and the Latin books, which I am sure, he left. Every day I seek my recreation, in such time as is left me from my legal labours, more and more in such studies. You will do me the greatest of favours, if you will show the same zeal in this as you generally do in matters about which you think I am really keen. Paetus’ own affairs I recommend to your notice too, and he expresses his deepest gratitude. And I do more than ask you, I urge you, to pay me a visit soon.

103book, you will see to it that Athens and other Greek towns have it in stock; for I think it may add some lustre to my achievements. I will send you the bits of speeches you ask for and some more too, as you find some interest in things which I write to satisfy young admirers. Your fellow-citizen, Demosthenes, gained a reputation by the speeches called the Philippics, in which he departed from the quibbling style of pleading we use in the law-courts, and appeared in the role of a serious politician. So I took a fancy to leave behind me also some speeches which may be called consular. One was delivered in the House on the 1st of January, another to the people on the agrarian law, the third on Otho, the fourth for Rabirius, the fifth for the sons of the proscribed, the sixth when I declined a province in a public assembly, the seventh when I drove Catiline out, the eighth before the people the day after Catiline fled, the ninth in an assembly on the day when the Allobroges gave their information, the tenth in the House on the 5th of December. There are two more short ones, mere scraps of the agrarian law. I will see that you have the whole corpus; and, since both my writing and my achievements interest you, you will see from them what I have done, and what I have written. Or else you should not have asked for them: I was not the one to obtrude them.

You inquire why I ask you to come back, and hint that you are hindered by business. Still you don’t refuse to come, if there is any need, or even if I wish it. There is no real necessity; but it does seem to me that you could arrange your times for going away more conveniently. You are away too long, especially when you are quite near, and

105so I have no chance of enjoying your society and you lack mine. Just at present things are peaceful: but if that little beauty^[47] should be strong enough to indulge in any wilder freaks I should certainly be routing you out of your retreat. However, Metellus is holding him in nobly and will continue to do so. Most assuredly he is a thoroughly patriotic consul, and, as I always thought, an excellent fellow. Clodius does not beat about the bush, he is quite plainly aiming at the tribunate. When the point was discussed in the Senate, I sat on him, accusing him of inconsistency, for seeking the tribunate now in Rome, when in Sicily he did nothing but repeat that what he wanted was an inheritance. However, I added, we need not put ourselves about on that point, as he would not be allowed to ruin the country if he becomes a plebeian any more than patricians of his kidney were allowed to in my consulship. Then, when he said he had come from the straits in a week, so that no one could go to meet him, and had entered the city at night, and boasted of the fact in a public speech, I said there was nothing new in that. “Seven days from Sicily to Rome: the other time three hours from Rome to Interamna. He came in at night: so he did before. No one met him now: nor did anyone meet him last time, when they certainly ought to have done so.” In fact, I am taking the cheek out of him, not only by serious set speeches, but by quips of this kind too. So nowadays I bandy jests and banter with him quite familiarly. For instance, when we were escorting a candidate, he asked me whether I used to give the Sicilians seats at the gladiatorial shows. I said, “No.” “Well,” said he,

107“now I am their new patron, I intend to begin the practice: though my sister, who, as the consul’s wife, has such a lot of room, will not give me more than standing room.” “Oh, don’t grumble about standing room with your sister,” I answered. “You can always lie with her.” You will say it was not the remark for a consular to make. I confess it was not; but I hate the woman, so unworthy of a consul. “For she’s a shrew and wrangles with her mate,” and not only with Metellus, but with Fabius too, because she is annoyed at their interference in this affair.

You ask about the agrarian law. Interest in it seems to have cooled down. You give me a gentle fillip for my familiarity with Pompey. Please don’t imagine I have allied myself to him solely to save my skin: the position of affairs is such that, if we had had any disagreement, there would of necessity have been great discord in the State. Against that I have taken precautions and made provision without wavering from my own excellent policy, while making him more loyal and less the people’s weathercock. He speaks, I may tell you, far more glowingly about my achievements than about his own, though many have tried to set him against me, saying that he did his duty to the country, but I saved it. What good his statements will do me, I fail to see: but they will certainly do the country good. Well! If I can make Caesar, who is now sailing gaily before the breeze, a better patriot too, shall I be doing so poor a service to the country? And, even if none were to envy me and all supported me, as they ought, still a remedy which cures the diseased parts of the State should be preferable to one which amputates them.

109But as it is, when the knights, whom I once stationed on the Capitoline hill with you as their standard-bearer and leader, have deserted the Senate, and our great men think themselves in the seventh heaven, if they have bearded mullet in their fish-ponds that will feed from their hand, and don’t care about anything else, surely you must allow that I have done my best, if I manage to take the will to do harm from those who have the power to do it. For our friend Cato is not more to you than to me: but still with the best of intentions and unimpeachable honesty at times he does harm to the country: for the opinions he delivers would be more in place in Plato’s Republic than among the dregs of humanity collected by Romulus.^[49] That a man who accepts a bribe for the verdict he returns at a trial should be put on trial himself is as fair a principle as one could wish. Cato voted for it and won the House’s assent. Result, a war of the knights with the Senate, but not with me. I was against it. That the tax-collectors should repudiate their bargain was a most shameless proceeding. But we ought to have put up with the loss in order to keep their good-will. Cato resisted and carried the day. Result, though we’ve had a consul in prison, and frequent riots, not a breath of encouragement from one of those, who in my own consulship and that of my successors used to rally round us to defend the country. “Must we then bribe them for their support?” you will ask. What help is there, if we cannot get it otherwise? Are we to be slaves of freedmen and slaves? But, as you say, enough of the grand sérieux.

111Favonius carried my tribe with even more credit than his own, but lost that of Lucceius. His accusation of Nasica was nothing to be proud of; however he conducted it very moderately. He spoke so badly that one would think he devoted more time at Rhodes to grinding in the mills than at Molo’s lectures. I got into his bad books for undertaking the defence; however he is standing again now on public grounds. How Lucceius is getting on I will write and tell you, when I have seen Caesar, who will be here in a couple of days’ time. The wrong the Sicyonians have done you, you attribute to Cato and his imitator Servilius. But does not the blow affect many good citizens? However, if it so pleases them, let us acquiesce, and be utterly deserted at the next question put to the vote.

My Amalthea is waiting and longing for you. I am delighted with my places at Tusculum and Pompeii, except that, champion of creditors as I am, they have overwhelmed me not so much with Corinthian bronze as with debts in the common copper coin of the realm. We hope things have settled down in Gaul. Expect my Prognostics^[50] and my bits of speeches very shortly: but for all that write and tell me your plans about coming. Pomponia has sent a message that you will be in Rome in July: but that disagrees with the letter you sent to me about placing your name on the census list.

Paetus, as I have already mentioned, has given me the books left him by his brother: but this gift depends on your kind services. As you love me, see that they are preserved and brought to me. You could do me no greater favour: and I should like the

113Latin books kept as well as the Greek. I shall count them a present from yourself. I have written to Octavius, but not spoken to him about it: for I did not know that your business extended to the provinces, nor did I count you among the Shylocks. But I have written as punctiliously as duty bade.

Look well after my little namesake. I am ill with him by sympathy. I have in hand my treatise on the constitution of Pellene, and you should see the huge heap of Dicaearchus that I have piled at my feet. What a great man! You could learn a lot more from him than from Procilius. I believe I have got his works on the constitutions of Corinth and Athens at Rome: and you may take my word for it that, if you read them, you will exclaim “The man is a wonder.” If Herodes had any sense in him, he would spend his time reading him and never write a single letter of the alphabet. He has attacked me by post, and you, as I see, in person. I would far rather have joined in the conspiracy than opposed it, if I had thought I should have to pay for it by listening to him. As regards the darnel, you must be losing your senses: but about the wine I quite agree with you.

But, I say, have you noticed the Kalends are coming, and there is no Antonius? Though the jury is being empanelled,—at least they tell me so, and that Nigidius is threatening in a public meeting to serve a summons on any juror who does not attend. If you

115should happen to get any news of Antonius’ coming, please let me know: and, as you won’t come here, dine with me anyhow on the 29th at my town house. Be sure you do; and take care of yourself.

First a trifle please for good news. Valerius has been acquitted, with Hortensius as his advocate. The verdict is generally thought to be a concession to Aulus’ son; and I expect Iphicrates^[54] has been up to some tricks, as you suggest. I didn’t like the look of his military boots and puttees. We shall know what it was, when you arrive.

In finding fault with the narrowness of my windows, let me tell you, you are finding fault with the Education of Cyrus^[55]: for, when I made the same remark to Cyrus, he said that the view of gardens was not so pleasant, if the windows were broad. For, let a be the point of vision, and b, c the object, and d, e the rays,—you see what follows. If our sight resulted from the impact of images,^[56] the images would be horribly squeezed in the narrow space: but, as it is, the emission of rays goes on merrily. If you have any other faults to find, you will find me ready with an answer, unless they are such as can be put to rights without expense.

117Now I come to January and my political attitude; and I shall follow the fashion of the Socratic schools in giving both sides of the question, ending, however, as they do, with the one which I prefer. It really is a point that requires much consideration. For either I have got to resist the agrarian measure strongly, which would mean something of a fight, though I should gain prestige by it; or I must hold my peace, which is equivalent to retiring to Solonium or Antium; or else I must assist the measure, and that is what they say Caesar expects me to do beyond a doubt. For Cornelius paid me a visit—I mean Balbus, Caesar’s great friend. He assured me that Caesar will take my own and Pompey’s opinion on everything, and that he will make an effort to reconcile Pompey and Crassus. On this side of the sheet may be placed an intimate connection with Pompey and, if I like, with Caesar too, reconciliation with my enemies, peace with the populace, and ease in my old age. But my blood is still stirred by the finale I laid down for myself in the 3rd book of my poem:^[57]

Since Calliope herself dictated those verses to me in a book full of passages in lordly vein, I ought not to have the least hesitation in holding “no omen, better Iliad xii, 243| than to right one’s country’s wrongs.”

But this point must be reserved for our strolls at the Compitalia. Do you remember the day before the festival. I will order the bath to be heated, and Terentia is going to invite Pomponia. We will make

119your mother one of the party. Bring me from my brother Quintus’ library Theophrastus’ “Hints for office-seekers.”

I am much obliged to you for sending me Serapio’s book, though between you and me I hardly understand a thousandth part of it. I have given orders for you to be paid ready money for it, to prevent your entering it among presentation copies. Since I am mentioning money matters, please settle up with Titinius as best you can. If he won’t stand by his agreement, the best plan, so far as I can see, will be to return the goods for which he made a bad bargain, if Pomponia will consent to that course: if even that won’t work, then give him his money back rather than have a fuss. I should be very glad if you would finish the business before you leave, with your usual kindness and carefulness.

So Clodius is going to Tigranes you say! I wish it were on the same terms as that Scepsian.^[58] But I don’t envy him. It will be a much more convenient time for me to get a free travelling pass, when my brother Quintus has settled down in peace, as I hope he will, and when I know the intentions of that priest of Bona Dea.^[59] Meantime I shall settle down to the enjoyment of the Muses with resignation, indeed

121with hearty good-will and delight, for it will never enter my head to envy Crassus, or to repent of not having turned traitor to myself.

For the geography I will endeavour to satisfy you, but I won’t make any definite promise. It is a big piece of work: still I will do as I am told, and see to it that this little tour is not entirely unproductive for you. Let me have any political news you may worm out, especially who you think are likely to be consuls. However, I am not very anxious. I have made up my mind to forget politics for the time.

I have had a good look at Terentia’s woodlands, and can only say, that, if there was a Dodonaean oak there, I should feel as though I possessed the whole of Epirus. About the first of the month I shall be either in my place at Formiae, or at Pompeii. If I am not at Formiae, as you love me, come to Pompeii. I shall be delighted to see you, and it won’t be far out of your way. With regard to the wall, I have given orders to Philotimus to let you do anything you like: but I think you ought to call in Vettius. In these days, when every honest man’s life hangs in the balance, I set high store by the enjoyment of my Palatine palaestra for a summer, but not to the extent of wishing Pomponia and her boy to live in terror of a tottering ruin.

I am eager, and have long been eager to pay a visit to Alexandria and the rest of Egypt, and also to get away from here, where people are sick of seeing me, and return when they miss me a little: but

123considering the circumstances, and the people who are sending me.

What will our conservative friends say, if there are any of them left? That I have been bribed out of my opinions?

that friend of ours, Cato, who alone outweighs a hundred thousand in my eyes. What would history be saying of me six hundred years hence? And that is a thing I fear much more than the petty gossip of those who are alive to-day. But I suppose I can only lie low and see what turns up. If an offer is made to me, the decision will to some extent rest in my own hands, and then I will consider the question. Upon my word there is some little glory even in refusing: so, if Theophanes should happen to consult you, don’t decline point blank.

This is what I am hoping to hear from you in your letter:—what Arrius has to say for himself, and how he takes Caesar’s desertion of him, whether popular report is right in speaking of Pompey and Crassus as the favourites for the consulship, or a correspondent of mine who mentions Gabinius and Servius Sulpicius, whether there are any new laws or any news at all, and to whom the augurship will be offered, now that Nepos is going away. That is the only bait with which they could catch me. You see how cheap I am going. But this is a forbidden subject. I mean to forget it, and devote myself heart and soul to philosophy. That, I assure you, is my intention; and I only wish I had always practised it. Now that I have sampled the vanity of what I once thought

125glory, I am thinking of confining my attention exclusively to the Muses. For all that you must post me up in news of Curtius and who will succeed to his position, and what is happening about P. Clodius. Take your time, and write fully about things in general, as you promise. Please let me know on what day you are leaving Rome, so that I can tell you where I shall be: and let me have a letter at once on the points I have mentioned, for I look forward to your letters very eagerly.

I am not so certain now about fulfilling the promises I made in former letters to produce some work in this tour: for I have fallen so in love with idleness, that I can’t tear myself from it. So I either enjoy myself with my books, of which I have a jolly good lot at Antium, or else count the waves: the rough weather won’t allow me to catch shads. At writing my soul rebels utterly. The geographical work I had planned is a big undertaking. Eratosthenes, whom I had taken as my authority, is severely criticized by Serapion and Hipparchus; and, if I take Tyrannio’s views too, there is no telling what the result would be. Besides the subject is confoundedly hard to explain and monotonous, nor does it give one as many opportunities for flowers of fancy as I imagined: besides—and this is the chief point—I find any excuse for idleness good enough. I am even debating settling down at Antium, and spending the rest of my life here: and I really wish I had been a magistrate here

127rather than in Rome. You have been wiser in your generation and made a home for yourself at Buthrotum: but you may take my word for it that this township of Antium runs your borough very close. To think of there being a place so near Rome, where there are lots of people who have never seen Vatinius, where there is not a single soul save myself who cares whether any of our new commissioners are alive or dead, where no one intrudes upon me, though every one is fond of me. This, this is the very place for me to play the politician: for there in Rome, besides being shut out of politics, I am sick of them. So I will compose a private memoir, which I will read only to you, in the style of Theopompus, or even a still bitterer vein. My only policy now is hatred of the radicals: and that without rancour, indeed with some pleasure in expressing it.

But to return to business, I have written to the city quaestors about my brother Quintus’ affairs. See what they have to say, and whether there is any hope of our getting current coin, or whether we must put up with Pompey’s pice.^[61] Also decide what is to be done with the wall. Is there anything else I meant to say? Yes. Let me know when you think of going away.

I will give the geography further consideration. As to the two speeches you ask for, one I did not want to write down, because I had broken off in the middle, the other, because I had no desire to praise a man whom I did not like. But that too I will see about. Something shall appear anyhow, to convince you that I have not idled all my time away.

I am highly delighted with the news about Publius, please investigate all the details thoroughly, and bring a full account with you when you come. Meantime, if you pick up any hints, or draw any inferences, write to me, especially as to what he is going to do about the embassy. For my part, before 1 read your letter, I wished the man would go, not, I assure you, through any desire to postpone his impeachment—for I am extraordinarily anxious to conduct the case—but because I thought that he would lose any popularity he had gained by turning plebeian. “Why did you transfer yourself to the plebs? Was it to pay a visit to Tigranes? Pray tell me: don’t the kings of Armenia return the visit of a patrician?” As you see, I had sharpened my wits up to rally him on the subject of his embassy. But if he rejects it with scorn, and, as you say, thereby rouses the indignation of the proposers and augurs of the bill of adoption, it will be a grand sight. To speak the honest truth, you know, our friend Publius is being treated with very scant courtesy. In the first place, though he was once the only man in

131Caesar’s house, now he has not a footing even among twenty; and in the second place, one embassy is talked of, and another is given to him. That fat post for levying money is reserved for Drusus of Pisaurum, I suppose, or for the gourmand Vatinius, while this barren messenger’s job is given to him, and his tribunate too has to wait their convenience. Fire the fellow’s resentment please, as much as you can. My one hope of safety lies in their mutual disagreement: and from Curio I gather that there is a hint of such a thing. Arrius is beginning to rage at being robbed of his consulship: Megabocchus and the rest of that bloodthirsty band of youths are at daggers drawn with them. And God grant there may come a dispute about this augurship on the top. I hope I shall have occasion to send you some of my very best letters and plenty of them on these topics.

But I am anxious to know the meaning of that dark hint of yours, that even some of the board of five commissioners are speaking their minds. What on earth can it be? If there really is anything in it, things are in a better way than I thought. Please don’t imagine that I ask the question with a view to action, because my soul is yearning to take part in politics. I have long been sick of holding the helm, even when I was allowed to do so: and now, when I have been marooned and the helm torn from my grasp without waiting for me to surrender it, my only desire is to watch their shipwreck from the dry land. I could wish, as your friend Sophocles says,

About the wall you will see what is necessary. I

133will set the mistake about Castricius right; and yet Quintus wrote about £130^[65] to me, though now to your sister he makes it nearly £260.^[66] Terentia sends her love; and my little boy commissions you to give Aristodemus the same answer for him as you gave for his cousin, your sister’s son. I won’t forget your reminder about your Amalthea. Take care of yourself.

When I was looking forward eagerly to a letter of yours towards evening, as usual, lo and behold a message that some slaves had come from Rome. I called them, and inquired if they had any letters. “No,” they said. “What’s that,” said I, “nothing from Pomponius?” Frightened to death by my voice and look they confessed they had been given one, but it had been lost on the way. As you may suppose, I was wild with annoyance. For every letter you have sent me these last few days has contained something of importance or entertainment. So, if there was anything worth saying in the letter of the 15th of April, write at once and let me know it: if there was nothing but nonsense, you owe me a repetition of it.

Let me tell you that young Curio has come and paid his respects to me: and what he said about Publius agreed very closely with your letter. It is astonishing too how he “holds proud kings in hate,” and he tells me that the younger generation in

135general holds equally strong views, and cannot put up with the present state of affairs. We are all right. If we can put our trust in them, we need not trouble ourselves, so far as I can see. I am devoting myself to history. But, though you think me as energetic as Saufeius, I am the laziest mortal alive.

But get clear about my journeys, so that you may settle where you will see me. I am intending to get to my place at Formiae on the feast of Pales; and then, since you think I ought not to stop at the delightful Crater^[67] on this occasion, I shall leave Formiae on the 1st of May, so as to reach Antium on the 3rd. There are games at Antium from the 4th to the 6th of May, and Tullia wants to see them. Then I am thinking of going to Tusculum, and from there to Arpinum, reaching Rome on the 1st of June. Be sure you pay me a visit either at Formiae or at Antium, or at my place at Tusculum. Reproduce your former letter for me, and add something new to it.

Caecilius the quaestor having suddenly told me that he was sending a man to Rome, I write this note in haste to extract from you all your wonderful dialogues with Publius, those you mention in your note, and the one you keep dark, saying that your answers were too long to write; and besides the one which has not yet been held, but which that Juno^[68] is going to report to you, when she returns from Solonium. Pray believe me when I say there is nothing that would please me more. If the compact about

137me is not kept, I am in the seventh heaven with delight at thinking how that Jerusalemite plebeian-monger will learn what a pretty return he has made for all my choicest panegyrics: and you may expect recantation of eclipsing brilliancy; for, so far as I can see, if that good-for-nothing is in favour with our sovereigns, he will have to give up crowing over the “ex-consul with a cynic’s tongue” and those “Tritons of the fish-ponds” together: for there will be nothing to envy me for, when I have been robbed of my power and my influence in the Senate. If on the other hand he quarrels with them, then any attack on me would be absurd. However let him attack, if he likes.

Upon my word the wheel of State has turned round gaily and with less noise than I had expected: more quickly to be sure than it might have done. That is Cato’s fault, but it is still more through the villainy of those who have disregarded auspices and the Aelian law, the Iunian and Licinian law and the Caecilian and Didian law, who have thrown out of the window all the physic for the State, who have given kingdoms to tetrarchs as though they were farms and immense sums of money to one or two people. I can see already which way jealousy is tending and where it will come home to roost. Count me too big a dunce to have learned anything by experience or from Theophrastus, if you do not see very shortly men mourning for the days of my government. For if the power of the Senate was unpopular, you can imagine what things will be like now, when the power has been transferred not to the people, but to three unbridled men. So let them make anyone they like consuls and tribunes,

139let them cloak Vatinius’ wen with the double-dyed purple gown of the augur, you will see very soon not only those who have made no slip, but even Cato himself for all his mistakes exalted, to the skies. As for me, I am thinking of playing the sophist, if your comrade Publius will allow me: I shall defend myself only if he compels me. Using the ordinary trick of the trade, I shall put up a notice that I am ready to

If only the country will be on my side. Certainly it has had from me more than it ever asked for, if not more than I owe to it. I would rather have a bad passage with another at the helm than steer safely myself for such ungrateful passengers. But of this we can talk better when we meet.

Now listen to my answer to your question. I am thinking of betaking myself to Antium from Formiae on May the 3rd: and I hope to start from Antium for Tusculum on May the 7th. But, as soon as I have returned from Formiae—and I intend to stay there till the last of April—I will send you definite news. Terentia sends her love, and little Cicero his greeting to Titus the Athenian.

I hope you will admire my consistency. I have decided not to see the games at Antium. For it would be rather noticeably inconsistent at a time when I am trying to avoid the suspicion of taking a pleasure trip, suddenly to appear in the character of one travelling not only for pleasure, but for very

141foolish pleasure too. So I shall wait for you till the 7th of May at Formiae. Now let me know what day I shall see you. From Appi Forum at 10 o’clock. I sent another letter a little earlier from the Three Taverns.

I assure you I feel an absolute exile since I have been at Formiae. There never was a day when I was at Antium that I was not better up in the news of Rome than those who were living there. The fact is your letters used to set before me not only the city news, but all the political news, and not only what was happening, but what was going to happen too. Now I can’t get to know anything, unless I pick up chance news from a passing traveller. So, although I am expecting you here very soon, give this man of mine, who is under orders to return at once, a bulky missive, full of news of all that has happened and what you think about it: and don’t forget to say what day you are leaving Rome. I intend to stay at Formiae till the 6th of May. If you can’t get here before that date, perhaps I shall see you at Rome, for I can hardly invite you to Arpinum.

That is all then. Take care of yourself.

So they deny that Publius has been made a plebeian, do they? This is certainly sheer tyranny and not to be borne. Let Publius send some one to witness my affidavit. I will take my oath that my friend Gnaeus, Balbus’ colleague, told me at Antium that he had himself assisted at taking the auspices.

Fancy two such delightful letters of yours being delivered at one and the same time! I don’t know how to pay you back for your good news, though I candidly confess my debt. Here’s a coincidence. I had just taken the turn off the road to Antium on to the Appian Way at the Three Taverns on the very day of the Cerealia, when my friend Curio met me, fresh from Rome: and at the very same moment your man with a letter. Curio inquired whether I hadn’t heard the news. “No,” said I. “Publius is standing for the tribuneship,” says he. “You don’t say so!” “And he is at deadly enmity with Caesar,” he replies, “and wants to annul all those laws of his.” “And what is Caesar doing?” I inquired. “He is denying that he ever proposed Clodius’ adoption.” Then he emptied the vials of his own wrath and that of Memmius and Metellus Nepos. I embraced the youth and said good-bye, being in a hurry to get to your letters. What a lot of nonsense is talked about “viva vox”? Why, I learned a dozen times as much about affairs from your letter as from his talk—the daily chit-chat, the designs of Publius, Juno’s war-cries, how Athenio^[71] is raising the standard, his letter

145to Gnaeus, the conversation with Theophanes and Memmius: and you have made me wild with inquisitiveness about that “fast” dinner. My curiosity is insatiable: but I have no grievance at your omitting to write an account of the dinner. I would much rather hear it by word of mouth.

As for your exhortations to write something, my material certainly is increasing, as you say; but everything is still in a state of ferment, like must in autumn. When things have settled down, my writing will be more clarified. Though you may not get anything from me at once, you shall be the first to have it however, and no one else for a long time. You are right in admiring Dicaearchus. He is a splendid fellow and a far better patriot than any of these great men of ours to whom his name would certainly not apply.^[73] I write this on the day of the Cerealia at four o’clock, as soon as I read yours: but I am thinking of giving it to the first person I meet to-morrow. Terentia is delighted with your letters. She sends you her warmest greetings, and Cicero in his new rôle of philosopher salutes Titus the politician.

What a shame! The letter I wrote on the spur of the moment at the Three Taverns in answer to your delightful notes never reached you! The reason was that the packet in which I had put it was taken to my town house the same day, and brought back to me at Formiae. So I have had the letter sent back to show you how pleased I was with yours.

147Your news that the uproar has died down in Rome does not surprise me: but I can assure you it has not died down in the country, and the very country cannot endure that despotism you endure. If you come to this “Laestrygonia of the far gates,”—Formiae Odyssey x. 81| I mean—you will find the people raging with indignation, and our friend Magnus—a name which is now growing as obsolete as Crassus’ surname Dives—held in the deepest abhorrence. You may not believe me, but I have not met anyone here who takes the matter as coolly as myself. So follow my advice and let us stick to philosophy. I can take my oath there is nothing like it. If you have a letter to send to the Sicyonians, hasten to Formiae. I am thinking of leaving on the 6th of May.

You have aroused the liveliest curiosity in me as to your talk with Bibulus and your conversation with Juno, and about that “fast” dinner too. So remember my ears are thirsting for news, and come quickly. However, the thing I am most afraid of at the present moment is that our friend the Pasha may run amuck as soon as he realizes that every one is railing at him and laying it on to him, and that these new measures are quite easy to upset. For myself, however, I have grown so slack that I should prefer to waste my life in my present ease under a despotism than to take part in the struggle however bright the prospect of success. As for the writing, for which you so incessantly clamour, it is impossible. My house is so crowded with the townsfolk that it is a

149public hall rather than a private house: and too small at that for the Aemilian tribe. But—to omit the common herd, for others don’t bother me after ten o’clock—C. Arrius is my next door neighbour, or rather he lives with me, declaring that he has forborne to go to Rome, expressly for the purpose of spending his whole day philosophizing with me here. Then on the other side there is Sebosus, Catulus’ intimate friend. Which way can I turn? Upon my word I would go to Arpinum straight away, if I did not see that Formiae is the most convenient place to wait for your visit: but only up to the 6th of May, for you see what bores my ears are condemned to endure. Now’s the time to bid for my Formian estate, while these people are pestering me. And in spite of this am I to make good my promise “Let me attempt something great, requiring much thought and leisure”? Still I will satisfy you and not spare my labour.

I fully realize that, as you say, your letter only reflects the general uncertainty of public affairs: but still that very variety of talk and opinion has its charm: for I feel as though I was at Rome, when I read your letter, and was hearing first one thing and then another, as one does on questions of importance. But what I can’t make out is how Caesar can possibly find any solution of the land question which will not meet with opposition. As to Bibulus’ firmness in impeding the comitia, it amounts to nothing but an expression of his opinion and does not improve

151the position of affairs at all. Upon my word our only hope rests in Publius. Let him by all means become tribune; if for no other reason, to make you return all the sooner from Epirus. For I don’t see how you can possibly keep away from him, especially if he should choose to quarrel with me. But of course I have no doubt that you would fly to my side, if anything of the kind were to happen. But, even if this does not happen, I am looking forward to a sight worth seeing, whether he runs amuck or saves the state, if I can watch it with you sitting by my side.

Just as I was writing these words, in comes Sebosus: and I had hardly fetched a sigh, when there was Arrius saying “Good day.” This is going out of town! Is it escaping from society to run into people like this? I shall certainly be off to “My native hills, the cradle of my youth.” To put it shortly, if I can’t be alone, I would rather be with countryfolk than with these ultra-city men. However, as you send no definite date, I will wait for you at Formiae till the 5th of May.

Terentia is much gratified by the attention and care you have bestowed on her dispute with Mulvius. She has not the least idea that you are supporting the common cause of all the owners of public land. However you do pay something to the tax-collectors; while she refuses to pay a penny. Accordingly she and my boy, a most conservative lad, send their respects.

As I was taking a nap after dinner on the last of April, your letter about the Campanian land arrived. Well, at first it startled me so that it banished all desire to sleep, though it was thought rather than uneasiness that kept me awake. The result of my cogitations was something of this sort. First, when you said in your last letter you had heard from a great friend of Caesar’s that some proposal was going to be made to which no one could object, I had feared some sweeping measure; but this I don’t consider anything of the kind. Secondly—and that is some consolation to me—all hope of agrarian distribution seems to have been diverted to the Campanian land. Supposing that the allotments are about 6 acres apiece, that land will not hold more than 5,000 people; so they have to offend all the rest of the masses. Besides, if anything is calculated to arouse a fiercer pitch of indignation in the minds of the conservatives, who are obviously getting roused already, this is the very thing that will; all the more so because there won’t be any home tax left except the 5 per cent.,^[76] now that the customs duties have been abolished, if the Campanian land is distributed: and that, I fancy, it would take only one petty harangue assisted by the cheers of our lacqueys to abolish. What on earth our friend Gnaeus is thinking of in letting himself be carried so far, I cannot tell:

155For up to now he has chopped logic about the matter, saying that he approved of Caesar’s laws, but it was for Caesar to see to their passing: that the agrarian law was sound enough to his mind, but whether it could be vetoed by a tribune or not did not matter to him: he thought it was high time the question was settled with the king of Alexandria: whether Bibulus had been watching for omens or not at that particular moment was no business of his: as for the tax-gatherers, they were a class that he wished to oblige: what was going to happen, if Bibulus came down to the forum on that occasion, he could not have prophesied. But now what has the Pasha got to say for himself? That he imposed a tax on Antilibanus and took it off the Campanian land? Well, I don’t see how he will make it good. “I will keep you in check with Caesar’s army,” he says. No, not me at least; that army will not restrain me so much as the ungrateful minds of the so-called constitutionalists, who have not repaid my services even by thanks, much less by more substantial rewards. But, if I were really to rouse myself to energy against that party, I would certainly find some means of resisting them. As it is, since there is such an endless controversy between your intimate Dicaearchus and my friend Theophrastus, Dicaearchus giving the preference to a practical life, Theophrastus to a contemplative, I have set my mind on making it clear that I have humoured them both. I take it I have fully satisfied Dicaearchus: now I am turning my eye to the other school, which not only gives me permission to take my ease now, but blames me for ever having done anything else. So, my dear Titus, let me throw myself heart and soul into those excellent studies,

157and at length seek the home that I ought never to have left.

As for your complaints about my brother Quintus’ letter, to me, too, it seemed “a lion before, behind”—heaven knows what. For the groans in the first lines about his long absence would touch anybody’s heart: then afterwards he calms down sufficiently to ask me to touch up and edit his journal. Please pay some attention to the point you mention about the dues on goods transferred from port to port. He says he referred it to the Senate by the advice of his assessors. Evidently he had not read my letter, in which I told him after careful consideration and research that no tax was legally due. If any Greeks have come from Asia to Rome about it, please see them, and, it you think fit, tell them my opinion. If I can recant, I will do as the tax collectors wish, rather than see the good cause worsted in the House: but, if not, I candidly confess I prefer the interests of the whole of Asia and the merchants, for I feel it is really a matter of great importance to them. I think, however, it is a case of necessity for us. But you will see to it. Are the quaestors, then, still debating about the currency? If there is no escape from it in spite of all our efforts, I shouldn’t turn up my nose at the Asiatic coins as the last resource. I shall see you at Arpinum, and give you a country welcome, since you have despised this at the seaside.

I agree entirely with what you say in your letter. The Pasha is running amuck. We may anticipate anything: he is quite clearly setting up a tyranny. What else is the meaning of this sudden marriage-contract,^[79] of the proposals about the Campanian land, of this reckless expenditure of money? If that were the end of it, it would be disastrous enough: but the nature of the case makes it impossible that this should be the end. These things in themselves cannot possibly give them any pleasure: and they would never have taken this step except as the first to other pernicious acts. But, as you say, we will discuss these questions rationally at Arpinum about the 10th of May, and not prove all the labour and the midnight oil we have spent on our studies wasted by weeping over them. Heaven help us! I derive consolation not so much from hope, as I did formerly, as from a spirit of indifference, which I call to my service especially in civic and political matters. Nay more, the little strain of vanity and thirst for fame that there is in me—it is a good thing to recognize one’s own faults—even experiences a pleasurable sensation. For the thought that the Pasha’s services to the country might in the dim future be reckoned higher than mine, used to prick me to the heart: but now I rest quite easy on that score. He has fallen so low that the fallen Curius in comparison seems to stand erect. But of this when we meet. It seems now as though you will be at Rome when I arrive: for which I shall not be at all sorry, if it is

161convenient to you. But if you come to see me, as you promise in your note, I wish you would fish out of Theophanes how the Sheikh is disposed to me. You will of course use your usual care in inquiring, and will deliver to me a kind of Whole Duty by which to regulate my conduct. From his conversation we shall be able to get an inkling of the entire situation.

I have received several letters of yours, and from them I see with what tense anxiety you are looking forward to news. We are hemmed in on every side; yet we do not rebel at servitude, fearing death and exile as though they were greater evils, whereas they are really far lesser evils. Yes, that is the position, and though every one groans about it, not a voice is raised to relieve it. The object, I presume, of those who hold the reins is to leave nothing for anyone else to give away. One man only opens his mouth and opposes them publicly, and that is young Curio. The loyal party cheers him loudly, greets him in the forum with the highest respect, and shows its good-will to him in many other ways, while Fufius is pursued with shouts and jeers and hisses. But this raises not one’s hope so much as one’s disgust at seeing the people’s will so free and their courage so enslaved. And, not to enter into details with you, affairs have come to such a pass that there is no hope of ever again having free magistrates, let alone a free people. But in the midst of this tyranny speech is freer than ever, at any rate in clubs and over our

163cups. Disgust is beginning to conquer fear, though it still leaves the blankest despair everywhere. The Campanian law goes so far as to impose upon candidates a formula of execration upon themselves if they propose any different occupation of the land to that laid down by the Julian laws, to be used by them in their speech as candidates. The others showed no compunction in taking the oath: but Laterensis is thought a hero because he threw up his candidature for the tribunate rather than take it.

I have no heart to write more about politics. I am disgusted with myself and it is agony to me to write. I stand my ground without losing self-respect considering the universal servility, but with less courage than I could wish considering my past record. Caesar most liberally invites me to take a place on his personal staff: and I even have an offer of a free travelling pass nominally to fulfil a vow.^[81] But it is hardly safe to trust to that Beauty’s delicacy to that extent. Besides it would mean that I should not be here for my brother’s return. The other post is much safer, and does not prevent me from being here when I wish. The free pass I have, but I don’t think I shall use it. No one knows of it however. I don’t want to run away; I long to fight. I have plenty of ardent admirers. But I won’t take my oath on anything, and please don’t mention what I’ve said.

I am much distressed about the manumission of Statius and some other things, but I’ve become thick-skinned by now. I wish you were here, I long for

165it. I should no longer feel the lack of advice or consolation. However, hold yourself ready to come quickly, if I call for you.

I have many causes for anxiety, both from the troubled state of the constitution and from the innumerable personal dangers which threaten me. But nothing annoys me more than Statius’ manumission:

But what I am to do, I don’t know; and the matter is more talk than anything. I can never be angry with those I really love: I can only feel sorrow, and very deep sorrow too. My other cares are for important matters. Clodius’ threats and the struggle I have to face do not affect me much: for I think I can face the music with dignity or avoid the danger without unpleasantness. Perhaps you will say: “Hang dignity. It’s prehistoric.^[82] For mercy’s sake look after your safety,” Alas! Why aren’t you here? You would notice everything: while I perhaps am blinded by my passion for high ideals. Nothing was ever so scandalous, so disgraceful, and so objectionable to every rank and class of men young or old as this present state of affairs, far more so than I expected, nay upon my soul it is more so than I could wish. The popular party have taught even the

167moderate men to hiss. Bibulus is exalted to the sky, though I don’t know why. However he is as much bepraised as though

To my infinite sorrow, my pet, Pompey, has shattered his own reputation. They have no hold on anyone by affection: and I am afraid they may find it necessary to try the effect of fear. I do not quarrel with them on account of my friendship for him, though I refrain from showing approval not to stultify all my previous actions. I keep to the high-road. The popular feeling can be seen best in the theatre and at public exhibitions. For at the gladiatorial show both the leader^[84] and his associates were overwhelmed with hisses: at the games in honour of Apollo the actor Diphilus made an impertinent attack on Pompey, “By our misfortunes thou art Great,” which was encored again and again. “A time will come when thou wilt rue that might” he declaimed amid the cheers of the whole audience, and so on with the rest. For indeed the verses do look as though they had been written for the occasion by an enemy of Pompey: “If neither law nor custom can constrain,” etc. was received with a tremendous uproar and outcry. At Caesar’s entry the applause dwindled away; but young Curio who followed was applauded as Pompey used to be when the constitution was still sound. Caesar was much annoyed: and it is said a letter flew post haste to Pompey at Capua.

169They are annoyed with the knights who stood up and clapped Curio, and their hand is against every man’s. They are threatening the Roscian law and even the corn law. Things are in a most disturbed condition. I used to think it would be best silently to ignore their doings, but I am afraid that will be impossible. The public cannot put up with things, and yet it looks as though they would have to put up with them. The whole people speak now with one voice, but the unanimity has no foundation but common hate.

Anyhow our friend Publius is threatening me and making hostile advances: there is trouble ahead, and you must fly to the rescue. I think I have at my back the same firm bodyguard of all the sound men and even the moderately sound, as I had in my consulship. The affection Pompey shows me is more than ordinary. He declares Clodius will not say a word against me: but there he is deceiving himself not me. I have been asked to fill Cosconius’ place^[85] now he is dead. That would be stepping into a dead man’s shoes, with a vengeance! I should disgrace myself utterly in the world’s eyes: and nothing could be more opposed to the state of safety you keep talking of. For that board is unpopular with the loyal party, and so I should keep my unpopularity with the disloyal and take up another’s burden too. Caesar wants me to go as his lieutenant. That would be a more honourable way of getting out of danger. But I don’t want to shirk it, for the very good reason that I prefer fighting. However nothing is settled, I repeat, I wish you were here. However,

171if it is necessary. I will send for you. Anything else? One thing, I think: I am sure the country is lost. It is no use mincing matters^[86] any longer.

However I have written this in a hurry, and, I may say, in a fright too. Some time I will give you a clear account, if I find a very trusty messenger; or, if I veil my meaning, you will manage to understand it. In these letters I will call myself Laelius and you Furius: and convey the rest in riddles. Here I am cultivating Caecilius and paying him elaborate attention. I hear Bibulus’ edicts have been sent to you. Pompey is blazing with wrath and indignation at them.

I have done all I could for Anicatus, knowing you wanted me to do so, and have willingly adopted Numestius as a friend on the strength of the earnest recommendation in your letter. To Caecilius I take care to pay every suitable attention. Varro is as good as I can expect; and Pompey shows me friendship and affection. Can I believe him, you ask. I do believe him; he quite convinces me. But since men of the world are always advising one in their histories and precepts and even in their verses to beware and forbidding one to believe, I do the one and beware, but to the other—not to believe—I cannot persuade myself. Clodius is still threatening me with danger, while Pompey asserts that there is no danger. He swears it, adding even that he will not see me injured if it costs him his life. The point is under

173negotiation: as soon as any certain conclusion is reached, I will write to you. If I have to fight, I will summon you to share my labour: but if I am left in peace, I will not rout you out of your Amalthea.

Political matters I shall only touch on briefly: for I am beginning to be afraid that the very paper may betray me. So in future, if I have to write in fuller detail to you, I shall hide my meaning under covert language. Now the State is dying of a new disease. The measures that have been passed cause universal discontent and grumbling and indignation: there is no disagreement on the point and people are now venting their opinion and their disapproval openly and loudly, yet no remedy is applied. Resistance seems impossible without bloodshed: nor can we see any other end to concession except destruction. Bibulus is exalted to the skies amid universal admiration and popularity. His edicts and speeches are copied out and read. He has attained the height of glory in quite a novel way. Nothing is so popular now as hatred of the popular party. I have my fears about the issue of all this. But I will write more clearly, if I get any definite views. Do you, if your affection for me is as real as I know it to be, hold yourself ready to run to my call, when it comes. But I am doing my best, and will continue to do it, to prevent any necessity. I said I would call you Furius in my letters, but there is no need to alter your name. I will call myself Laelius and you Atticus, and I won’t use my own handwriting or seal, at any rate if the letters are such that I should not like them to fall into a stranger’s hands.

175Diodotus is dead: he left me about £88,000.^[88] Bibulus has written a scathing edict putting off the elections till the 18th of October. I have received the books from Vibius: he^[89] is a wretched poet, and indeed has nothing in him; still he is of some use to me. I am going to copy the work out and send it back.

To enter into details about politics would be superfluous. The whole country has gone to rack and ruin: and affairs are in one respect worse than when you left. Then it looked as though we were oppressed with a tyranny which was popular with the lower classes, and, though annoying to the upper, still comparatively harmless: but now it has become suddenly so universally detested that I tremble for the issue. For we have had an experience of the wrath and recklessness of the Triumvirs, and in their indignation with Cato, they have ruined the state. The poisons they used seemed to be so slow that I thought we could die painlessly. But now I am afraid they have been roused to energy by the hisses of the crowd, the talk of the loyalists, and the murmurs of Italy. I had hopes, as I used often to say to you, that the wheel of state had turned so smoothly that we could

177scarcely catch the sound of its motion, and scarcely see the track of its path: and that is what would have happened, if people could only have waited for the storm to pass. But for a while they stifled their sighs; then they began to groan aloud; and finally all set about airing their grievances at the top of their voices. And so our friend, being unused to unpopularity, and having always lived in an atmosphere of flattery and glory, disfigured in person and broken in spirit, does not know what to do with himself: he sees that to advance is dangerous, to retreat a confession of weakness: the respectable parties are his enemies, the very riff-raff not his friends.

Yet see how soft-hearted I am. I could not restrain my tears, when I saw him on the 25th of July delivering a speech on the subject of the edicts of Bibulus. He used to carry himself with such a lofty bearing, enjoying unbounded popularity and universal respect: and now, how humble he was, how cast down, and what discontent he aroused in himself as well as in his hearers! What a sight! Crassus may have enjoyed it, but no one else. For seeing that he had fallen from the stars, one could not but attribute his swift descent to accident rather than to voluntary motion. And, just as Apelles or Protogenes, if they had seen their Venus or Ialysus smeared with mud, would, I imagine, have been cut to the heart, so I myself could not but feel poignant grief at seeing the idol on whose adornment I had lavished all the colours of my art suddenly disfigured. For though no one looked on it as my duty to retain my friendship with him after the Clodian affair, my affection for him was such that no slight could extinguish

179it. The result, is that now Bibulus’ scathing^[90] edicts against him are so popular, that one can’t pass the place where they are posted up for the crowd of people reading them. Pompey finds them so distressing that he is wasting away with grief; and I myself am much annoyed with them, partly because they cause so much pain to a man whom I have always loved, and partly for fear that being so impulsive and ready to draw the sword, as well as so unused to abuse, he may give full reins to his indignation and wrath.

I don’t know what will be the end of Bibulus. As things stand at present his reputation is extraordinarily high. When he put off the elections till October, which generally annoys the populace, Caesar thought he could induce the people by a speech to attack Bibulus: but in spite of all his seditious talk, he could not ring a word out of anybody. In short they feel that they have lost the good-will of all parties: and so violent action on their part is all the more to be feared.

Clodius is hostile to me. Pompey assures me he will do nothing against me: but I am afraid to trust him and am getting ready for resistance. I hope I shall have very strong support from all classes. For your presence I have a longing myself and circumstances call for it to meet the crisis. If I see you in time, I shall feel it a great accession to my policy, my courage and my safety. Varro is very obliging; and Pompey talks like an angel. I hope that in the end I shall either be certain of a glorious victory, or even escape unmolested. Let me know what you are doing, how you are enjoying yourself, and what has happened as regards the Sicyonians.

How I wish you were in town! You would certainly have stayed, if we had thought this was going to happen. For then we could have easily kept that little Beauty in order or at any rate should have known what he was going to do. As it is he flits about in a frenzy and doesn’t know what he is doing; he threatens lots of people, but will probably do whatever turns up. When he sees the general abhorrence of the present state of affairs he seems to meditate an attack on the authors of it; but when he remembers the armed force behind them, he turns his wrath against the loyalists. As for me, he threatens me now with brute force, and now with a prosecution. Pompey spoke to him about it, and according to his own account—for he is the only witness I have—he remonstrated strongly with him, saying that he would become a byword for treachery and underhandedness, if my life were threatened by one whose weapons he himself had forged by acquiescing in his transference to the plebs: that both he and Appius had pledged their word for me: and that, unless Clodius respected their promise, he would be so annoyed that he would make it plain to the world that he prized my friendship beyond everything. He declared that after he had said this and much more to the same effect, Clodius at first persisted in arguing the point at length, but finally gave way and

183promised he would not do anything to offend him. Since then, however, he has not ceased to speak very unpleasantly about me: but, even if he did not, I should not believe him and should continue the preparations which I am making.

At the present time I am managing things so that my popularity and the strength of my position increases daily. Politics I am not touching at all, but am busily engaged in the law courts and in my other forensic work: and thereby I find I win extraordinary favour not only with those who enjoy my services, but with the people in general too. My house is thronged with folk; processions meet me; the days of my consulship are recalled; friendships are not disguised: and my hopes are so raised that I often think there is no reason for me to shrink from the struggle which threatens.

What I want now is your advice and your affection and loyalty: so fly to me. It will simplify everything, if I have you with me. Varro can render me many services, but they would be far surer if you were here to support them: a great deal of information can be extracted from Publius himself, and a great deal found out, which could not possibly be kept from your ears: besides a great deal more—but it is absurd to specify details, when I want you for everything. The one point I want you to grasp is that the mere sight of you would simplify everything for me; but it all depends on your coming before he enters on his office. I think that, though Crassus is egging on Pompey, if you were here and could find out from the enemy through Juno how far the great men are to be trusted, I should either escape molestation altogether or at any rate I should no longer be

185in a fog. There is no need of prayers and exhortations between you and me: you know what I wish and what the gravity of the occasion demands.

I have no political news except that the present masters of the world have the world’s hatred: and yet there is no hope of a change. But, as you can easily imagine, Pompey is disgusted and heartily sick of it all. I can’t see what the end of it will be, but I am pretty sure there will be an explosion of some sort.

I have sent back the works of Alexander, who is a careless writer and not much of a poet: still there is some use in him. Numerius Numestius I have admitted to my friendship with pleasure and find he has plenty of sober good sense and is quite worthy of your recommendation.

I don’t think you ever before read a letter of mine which I had not written myself. That will show you how I am plagued to death by business. As I haven’t a moment to spare, and must take some exercise to refresh my poor voice, I am dictating this as I walk.

Well, the first thing I have to tell you, is that our friend the Pasha is heartily sick of his position and wants to be restored to the place from which he fell. He confides his sorrows to me, and at times openly looks for a remedy; but for the life of me I cannot find any. Secondly, the whole of that party, both the principals and their followers, are losing their strength, though no one opposes them; and there

187never was a greater unanimity of sentiment or of the popular expression of it than there is now.

As for me—for I am sure you want to hear about myself—I take no part in public deliberations and devote myself entirely to my law-court practice, which arouses, as you can easily conceive, many a memory of my past achievements and much regret for them. But our dear Juno’s brother is venting most alarming threats and, though he denies them to the Pasha, he openly parades them to others. So, if your affection is as real as I know it is, wake up, if you are sleeping, start moving, if you are standing still, run, if you are moving, and fly, if you are running. I set greater store than you can possibly believe by your advice and your wisdom, and, what is still more, by your love and your loyalty. The importance of the theme would perhaps demand a long disquisition; but our hearts are so united that a word is enough. It is of the highest importance to me that you should be in Rome after the elections, if you can’t get here before them. Take care of yourself.

In the letter I gave to Numestius I made a most urgent and pressing appeal to you to come. To the speed I then enjoined add something, if you possibly can. And don’t be alarmed (for I know you and don’t forget that to love “It is to be all made of sighs and tears”^[91]): the matter I hope is one that will

189not be so troublesome at the end as at the beginning. That fellow Vettius, my famous informer, promised Caesar, so far as we can see, that he would get some criminal suspicion thrown on young Curio. So he wormed his way into intimacy with the young man and after meeting him often, as events prove, he went so far as to declare that he was determined to make an attack on Pompey with the assistance of his slaves, and to slay him. Curio told his father of this, and he told Pompey. The affair was reported to the Senate. Vettius was summoned before them and at first denied that he had ever had an appointment with Curio. However he did not stick to that tale long; but at once claimed the privilege of king’s evidence. Amid cries of “no,” he began to explain that there had been a confederacy of the younger men under the leadership of Curio, to which Paulus at first belonged and Q. Caepio, Brutus I mean, and Lentulus, the flamen’s son, with his father’s consent; and then that C. Septimius, Bibulus’ secretary, had brought him a dagger from Bibulus. The idea of Vettius not having a dagger, unless the consul gave him one, and the rest of it, was too much for anybody’s gravity: and the charge was scouted the more because Bibulus had warned Pompey on the 13th of May to be on his guard against plots; and Pompey had thanked him for the advice.

Young Curio was brought in and repelled Vettius’ assertions: and the point for which Vettius was especially jumped on was saying that the young men’s intention was to attack Pompey in the forum at the gladiatorial show which Gabinius gave, and that Paulus was to be the leader, when it was well known that he was in Macedonia at the time. The House decreed

191that Vettius should be committed on his own confession of having carried a weapon; and that it should be high treason to release him. The view most generally held is that it was a put up job: Vettius was to be discovered in the forum with a dagger and his slaves round him with weapons, and then he was to turn king’s evidence: and it would have come off, if the Curios had not reported the matter to Pompey. Then the senatorial decree was read aloud to an assembly. On the next day, however, Caesar, the man who as praetor some years ago had bidden Q. Catulus speak from the floor, brought Vettius out on the rostra, and set him in a place which was beyond Bibulus’ aspiration, though a consul. Here he said anything he liked about public affairs; and, as he had come ready primed and tutored, he omitted all mention of Caepio, though he had named him most emphatically in the House: so it was obvious that a night and a nocturnal appeal had intervened. Then he mentioned people on whom he had not cast the slightest suspicion in the House,—L. Lucullus, who, he said, generally used to send to him C. Fannius, the man who once supported a prosecution of P. Clodius, and L. Domitius, whose house was to be the basis of operations. My name he did not mention, but he said that an eloquent ex-consul, a neighbour of the consul, had remarked to him that we stood in need of a Servilius Ahala or a Brutus. He added at the end, when he had been called back by Vatinius after the assembly was dismissed, that he had heard from Curio that Piso, my son-in-law, was in the plot, and M. Laterensis too.

Now Vettius is on trial for violence before Crassus Dives, and, when he is condemned, he will claim to turn

193king’s evidence. If he is successful there may very well be some prosecutions. Of that—though to be sure I never despise anything—I’m not much afraid. Everybody is showing me the greatest kindness; but I am sick of life; the whole world is so thoroughly out of joint. Just lately we were afraid of a massacre, but it was averted by a speech of that gallant old man Q. Considius: and now the disaster of which we had been in daily fear has suddenly happened. In fact, nothing could be more deplorable than my situation, nothing more enviable than that of Catulus, considering his glorious life and his timely end. However, I keep up my heart in spite of my miseries, and don’t show the white feather, and, with an exercise of caution, I maintain my position and authority with honour.

Pompey tells me to have no fear of Clodius, and shows me the greatest good-will whenever he speaks. I am longing to have you to advise my actions, to be the partner of my anxieties, to share my every thought. So I have commissioned Numestius to plead with you, and now add, if possible, even more urgent prayers of my own, that you literally fly to me. I shall breathe again when I see you.

When I write to you praising any of your friends, I wish you would let them know I have done so. For example, I mentioned in a letter lately Varro’s kindness to me, and you answered that you were delighted to hear it. But I had much rather you had written to him saying he was doing all I wished—not

195that he was, but to make him do it. For, as you know, he is an odd creature, “all tortuous thoughts and no—”.^[93] But I hold to the maxim, “A great man’s follies.”^[94] However, your other friend, Hortalus, most certainly lauded me to the skies in the most liberal, open-hearted and elaborate manner, when he was delivering a speech on Flaccus’ praetorship and that incident of the Allobroges. You may take my word for it that he could not have expressed himself in more affectionate and laudatory terms, nor more fully. I should much like you to write and tell him that I sent you word of it. But I hope you won’t have to write, and are now on your way and quite close after the appeals in my former letter. I am eagerly looking out for you, and in sore need of you: and circumstances and the times call for you as much as I do.

On these affairs I have nothing new to say: the country is in the most desperate position possible, and nothing could exceed the unpopularity of those who are responsible for it. I myself, as I think, hope and imagine, am safeguarded by the staunchest support. So hasten your coming: you will either relieve all my cares or share them with me. If I am rather brief, it is because I hope that I may soon be able to discuss anything I wish with you face to face. Take care of yourself.

Pray God that the day may come when I shall be able to thank you for compelling me to go on living. At present I am heartily sorry for it. Please come to me at once at Vibo. For several reasons I’ve made my way thither. If you come, I shall be able to lay plans for my whole journey in exile. If you do not, I shall be surprised: but I trust you will.

Please attribute my sudden departure from Vibo after asking you to join me there to my misery rather than to caprice. I received a copy of the bill for my destruction, and found that the alteration of which I had heard, took the form of banishment beyond four hundred miles. Since I could not go where I wished, I went straight to Brundisium before the bill was passed; for fear of involving my host Sicca in my destruction and because I am not permitted to stay at Malta. Now make haste and join me; if I can find anyone to take me in. At present I receive kind invitations: but I fear the future. I indeed, Pomponius, am heartily sick of life: and it is mainly for your sake that I consented to live. But of this when we meet. Please do come.

Terentia continually expresses the deepest gratitude to you: and I am very glad of it. My life is one long misery and I am crushed with the weight of my sorrows. What to write I don’t know. If you are in Rome, you will be too late to catch me: but, if you are already on the way, we will discuss all that has to be discussed, when you join me. One thing only I beg of you, since you have always loved me for myself, to preserve your affection for me. I am still the same. My enemies have robbed me of all I had; but they have not robbed me of myself. Take care of your health.

At Thurium, April 10.

I quite expected to see you at Tarentum or Brundisium, and it was important that I should for many reasons, among others for my stay in Epirus and for the advantage of your advice in other matters. That it did not happen I shall count among my many other misfortunes. I am starting for Asia, for Cyzicus in particular. I entrust my dear ones to you. It is with difficulty that I prolong my miserable existence.

From the neighbourhood of Tarentum, April 17.

I arrived at Brundisium on April 17, and on the same day your men delivered a letter from you. The next day but one some others brought me another letter. I am very grateful for your kind invitation to stay at your place in Epirus, though I expected it. It is a plan, which would have just suited me, if I could have stayed there all the time. 1 hate a crowd, I shun my fellow-men, I can hardly bear to look upon the light: so the solitude there, especially as I am so at home there, would have been far from unpleasant. But for stopping on the route it is too far out of the way: moreover I should be only four days’ march from Autronius and the rest, moreover you would not be there yourself. Yes, a fortified place would be useful to me if I were settling there, but it is unnecessary, when I am merely passing. If I dared, I should make for Athens; and things were turning out right for it: but now my enemies are there, you have not joined me, and I am afraid that town too may not be counted far enough away from Italy. Nor have you let me know when I may expect you.

Your pleas to me not to think of suicide have one result that I refrain from laying violent hands on myself; but you cannot make me cease to regret our decision and my existence. What is there for me to live for, especially if I have lost even that hope I had when I set out? I will forbear to mention all the miseries into which I have fallen through the villainous machinations not so much of my enemies, as of

205those who envy me, for fear of arousing my grief again, and provoking you to share it by sympathy. But this I will say, that no one has ever suffered such a misfortune, and no one ever had more right to wish for death. But I have missed the time when I could have died with honour. At any other time death will only end my pain, not heal it.

I notice you collect everything which you think can raise any hopes in me of a change in affairs. That “everything” is very little: still, since you so decide, I will await the issue. Though you have not started, you will catch me yet, if you hurry. I shall either go to Epirus, or proceed slowly through Candavia. My hesitation about Epirus does not arise from my changefulness, but from doubts as to where I shall see my brother. I don’t know where I shall see him, nor how I shall tear myself from him. That is the chief and most pitiful of all my miseries. I would write to you oftener and fuller, if grief had not robbed me of all my wits and especially of that particular faculty. I long to see you. Take care of yourself.

At Brundisium, April 29.

As I was setting out from Brundisium, I wrote to you, explaining why I could not go to Epirus, because it is close to Achaia which is full of my most virulent enemies, and it is a hard place to get out of, when I want to start. My decision was confirmed by the receipt of two messages at Dyrrachium, one saying that my brother was coming by sea from Ephesus to

207Athens, the other that he was coming by land through Macedonia. So I sent a note to catch him at Athens, asking him to come on to Thessalonica, and I myself set off and arrived at Thessalonica on the 23rd of May. The only certain news about him, that I have had, is that he started a short time ago from Ephesus. Now I am in great anxiety to know what is happening at Rome. It is true that in one letter dated May 15 you say you have heard that Quintus will be rigorously called in question, and in another that things are calming down: but the latter is dated a day before the former, to increase my perplexity. So, what between my own personal grief, which racks and tortures me daily, and this additional anxiety, I have hardly any life left in me. But the passage was very bad and perhaps, not knowing where I was, he took some other direction. My freedman Phaetho has seen nothing of him. Phaetho was driven back by wind from Ilium to Macedonia and came to me at Pella. I see how threatening the future is, though I have not the heart to write. I am afraid of everything: there is no misfortune that does not seem to fall to my lot. I am still staying in suspense at Thessalonica, with this new fear added to the woes and sorrows that oppress me; and I do not dare to make a move of any kind.

Now for the things you mention in your letter. Caecilius Trypho I have not seen. Of your talk with Pompey I have heard from your letter. I cannot see such signs of a political change as you either see or invent to comfort me: for, if they take no notice of the Tigranes episode, all hope is lost. You bid me pay my thanks to Varro. I will, and to Hypsaeus too. I think I will follow your advice not to go any

209further away, until I receive the parliamentary news for May. But where to stop I have not yet made up my mind; and I am so anxious about Quintus, that I can’t make up my mind to anything. But I will soon let you know.

From these rambling notes of mine, you can see the perturbed state of my wits. Yet, though I have been crushed by an incredible and unparalleled misfortune, it is not so much my misery as the remembrance of my own mistake that affects me. For now surely you see whose treachery egged me on and betrayed me. Would to heaven you had seen it before, and had not let a mistake dominate your mind as I did. So when you hear that I am crushed and overwhelmed with grief, be assured that the sense of my folly in trusting one, whose treachery I had not suspected, is a heavier penalty than all the consequences. The thought of my misfortunes and my fears for my brother prevent me from writing. Keep your eye on events and your hand at the helm. Terentia expresses the deepest gratitude to you. I have sent you a copy of the letter I wrote to Pompey.

At Thessalonica, May 29.

My brother Quintus left Asia at the end of April and reached Athens on May the 15th: and he had to hurry, for fear anything disastrous might happen in his absence, if there were anyone who was not yet contented with the measure of our woes. So I preferred him to hurry on to Rome rather than to come to me: and besides—I will confess the

211truth and it will show you the depth of my misery—I could not bear in my great distress to look on one so devoted to me and so tender-hearted, nor could I thrust upon him the misery of my affliction and my fallen fortune, or suffer him to see me. Besides I was afraid of what would have been sure to happen—that he would not be able to part from me. The picture of the moment when he would have had to dismiss his lictors or to be torn by force from my arms was ever before me. The bitterness of parting I have avoided by the bitterness of not seeing my brother. That is the kind of dilemma into which you who are responsible for my survival have forced me; and so I have to pay the penalty for my mistake. Your letter however cheers me, though I can easily see from it how little hope you have yourself. Still it offered some little consolation till you passed from your mention of Pompey to the passage: “Now try to win over Hortensius and such people.” In heaven’s name, my dear Pomponius, have you not yet grasped, whose agency, whose villainy and whose treachery have ruined me? But that I will discuss when I meet you. Now I will only say, what you must surely know, that it is not so much my enemies as my enviers who have ruined me. If there is any real foundation for your hopes, I will bear up and rely on the hope you suggest. But if, as seems probable to me, your hopes are ill-founded, then I will do now what you would not let me do before, though the time is far less appropriate.

Terentia often expresses her gratitude to you. The thing I most fear among all my misfortunes is my poor brother’s business: if I knew the exact state of affairs, I might know what to do about it. I am

213following your advice and still staying at Thessalonica in hope of the advantages you mention and of letters. When I get some news, I shall be able to shape my course of action. If you started from Rome on the first of June, as you say, I shall very soon see you. I have sent you the letter I wrote to Pompey.

Thessalonica, 13 June.

Your letter has posted me up in political news to May 25: and I am awaiting the course of events at Thessalonica, as you suggest. When I hear more, I shall know where to be. For if there is any excuse, if anything is being done, if I see a ray of hope, I shall either wait here or pay you a visit: but if, as you say in your letter, those hopes have vanished into air I shall look for something else. At present you do not give me the least hint of anything except the disagreement of those friends of yours: and they are quarrelling about anything rather than me, so I do not see what good it will do me. But, as long as you wish me to hope, I will bow to your wishes. You frequently reproach me strongly for weak-heartedness: but I should like to know if I have been spared any hardship in my misfortune. Did anyone ever fall from such a high estate in such a good cause, especially when he was so well endowed with genius and good sense, so popular and so strongly supported by all honest men? Can I forget what I was? Can I help feeling what I am? Can I help missing my honour and fame, my children, my fortune and my brother? That is a fresh misfortune for you to contemplate.

215I have avoided seeing my brother, though I love him and always have loved him better than myself, for fear that I should see him in his grief and misery, or that I, from whom he had parted in the height of prosperity, should present myself to him in ruin and humiliation. Of other things too hard to bear, I will say nothing: my tears prevent me. And what pray is it that calls for reproof? My grief, or my sin in not retaining my position,—which would have been easy enough, if there had not been a conspiracy for my ruin within my own walls,—or that I should not have lost it without losing life too?

My object in wanting thus is to call for your ready sympathy, instead of seeming to deserve your reproaches and reproofs, and the reason why I write less than usual is partly that my sorrow prevents me, and partly that I have more reason to expect news from you than to write to you. When I get your news, I will give you a clearer idea of my plans. Please continue to write fully about things as you have at present, that no detail may escape me.

Thessalonica, 17 June.

At present I am kept at Thessalonica by your letter and by some good news, which however has not the best authority. Besides I am waiting for your note, and you expressed your desire that I should stay here. As soon as I receive the note I am waiting for, I will come to you, if the hope, which has reached me by rumour, is confirmed. If not, I will let you know my movements. Please continue to

217exert your energy, your wits and your influence on my behalf. I don’t ask for encouragement: but please don’t find fault with me; for when you do that, I feel as though I had lost your affection and your sympathy, though I am sure you take my misfortune so to heart, that you yourself are inconsolable. Lend a helping hand to Quintus, the best and kindest of brothers, and for mercy’s sake let me have all the definite news there is.

June 27.

You lay great stress on the hopes I may entertain, especially of action on the part of the Senate; yet at the same time you write that the clause forbidding any mention of my case in the House is being posted up. So no one opens his mouth. Then you accuse me of distressing myself, though, as you know quite well, I have more reason for distress than ever mortal had. You hold out hopes to me on the results of the elections. What hope is there, if the same tribune is re-elected and a consul elect is my enemy? Your news too that my speech^[98] has been published is a blow to me. Heal the wound, if possible, as you propose. In my indignation I paid him back in his own coin: but I had suppressed it so carefully, that I thought it would never leak out. How it has, I can’t imagine. But since it so happens that I have never said a word against him, and this appears to me to be more carelessly written than my other speeches, I should think it could be passed off as some one else’s work. If you think my case is not

219hopeless, please give your attention to the matter; but if I am past praying for, then I don’t much mind about it.

I am still lying dormant at the same place, and neither speak nor think. Though, as you say, I did suggest that you should come to me, I see now that you are useful to me where you are, while here you could not find even a word of comfort to lighten my sorrows. I cannot write more, nor have I anything to say. Therefore, I am all the more anxious for your news.

Thessalonica, July 17.

I changed my mind about the proposed journey to Epirus when I saw my hope growing less and less and finally vanishing, and have not moved from Thessalonica, where I proposed to stay till you should send me some news of what you mentioned on Pompey’s authority in your last letter, that my case might come before the House after the elections. And so, now the elections are over and I get no news from you, I shall take that as equivalent to your writing and saying that nothing has come of it, nor shall I regret that the hope which buoyed me up has not lasted long. As for the movement that appeared to be in my favour, which you said you foresaw, new arrivals here assure me that it won’t come off. The only hope left is in the tribunes elect: and if I wait till that is settled, you will have no right to regard me as a traitor to my own cause and to my friends’ wishes.

221Instead of blaming me so often for taking my troubles so seriously, you ought to pardon me, as you see that my afflictions surpass all that you have ever seen or heard of. You say you have heard that my mind is becoming unhinged with grief: my mind is sound enough. Would that it had been as sound in the hour of danger, when I found those my cruelest enemies who I thought had my salvation most at heart. As soon as they saw I had lost my balance a little through fear, they used all their malice and treachery to thrust me to my doom. Now that I have to go to Cyzicus, where your letters will reach me less frequently, please be all the more careful to give me a thorough account of everything you think I ought to know. Be a good friend to my brother Quintus, for, if I leave him unharmed by my fall, I shall not regard myself as utterly overwhelmed.

August 5.

Your letter has filled me with hopes of Pompey’s intentions or professed intentions as regards me. For I think the elections have been held, and it is when they are over you say he has decided to have my affair brought forward. If you think me foolish for hoping, I only do what you bid me to do, and I know your letters generally are more inclined to restrain me and my hopes than to encourage them. Now please tell me plainly and fully what you see. I know it is through many faults of my own that I have fallen into this misery: and if fate mends my faults even partially, I shall be less disgusted both with my past and my present existence.

223The amount of traffic on the roads and the daily expectation of a change of government have prevented me from leaving Thessalonica at present. But now I am forced to quit, not by Plancius—who wants me to stop—but by the nature of the place, which is not at all suitable to help one to bear such distress and misfortune. I did not go to Epirus as I said I should, since all the news and all the letters that have reached me lately have shown me that there was no necessity to remain very near Italy. If I get any important news from the scene of the elections, I shall betake myself to Asia, when I leave here. Where exactly, is not yet fixed: but I will let you know.

Thessalonica, July 21.

On August 13 I received four letters from you,—one in terms of reproof, urging me to firmness, another telling me of Crassus’ freedman’s account of my careworn appearance, a third relating the doings in the House, and a fourth containing Varro’s confirmation of your opinion as to Pompey’s wishes. My answer to the first is that though I am distressed, it has not unhinged my mind: nay, I am even distressed that, though my mind is so sound, I have neither place nor opportunity for using it. For, if you feel the loss of a single friend like myself, what do you suppose my feelings are, when I have lost you and every one else? And if you, on whom no ban of outlawry has fallen, miss my presence, you can imagine the aching void outlawry leaves in me. I will not mention all that I

225have lost,—you know it well enough, and it would only open my wound again. But this I do assert that no one has ever lost so much and no one has ever fallen into such a depth of misery. Time too, instead of lightening my grief, can but add to it: for other sorrows lose their sting as time passes, but my sorrow can but grow daily, as I feel my present misery and think on my past happiness. I mourn the loss not only of my wealth and my friends but of my old self. For what am I now? But I will not wring your soul with my complaints nor keep fingering my sore.

You write in defence of those who, I said, envied me and among them Cato. Of him I have not the least suspicion: indeed I am sorry that the false friendship of others had more weight with me than his loyalty. As to the others I suppose I should acquit them if you do. But it is too late to matter now.

I don’t think Crassus’ freedman meant what he said. You say things went well in the House. But what about Curio? Hasn’t he read that speech? Goodness knows how it got published. Axius however, writing on the same day an account of the meeting, has less to say for Curio. Still he might well miss something, while you would certainly not have written what was not true. Varro’s talk with you gives me hopes of Caesar. I only wish Varro himself would throw his weight into my cause; and I think he will with a little pressing from you, if not of his own accord.

If ever I have the fortune to see you and my country again, I will not fail to give you more cause for joy at my recall than all my other friends: and, though I must confess that up to now my friendly attentions have not been as conspicuous as they

227should have been, I will be so persistent with them, that you shall feel that I have been restored to you quite as much as to my brother and children. If ever I have wronged you or rather for the wrongs that I have done you, forgive me. I have wronged myself far more deeply. I do not write this in ignorance of your great grief at my misfortune, but because, if I had earned a right to all the affection you lavish and have lavished on me, you would never have suffered me to stand in need of that sound common sense of yours, and you would not have let me be persuaded that it was to my interest to let the bill about the guilds^[101] be passed. But you, like myself, only gave your tears to my distress, as a tribute of affection: and it was my fault, not yours, that you did not devote day and night to pondering on the course I should take, as you might have done, if my claims on you had been stronger. If you or anyone had dissuaded me from the disgraceful resolve I formed in my alarm at Pompey’s ungenerous reply,—and you were the person best qualified to do so—I should either have died with honour, or should to-day be living in triumph. You will pardon what I have said. I am blaming myself far more than you, and you only as my second self, and because I want a companion in my guilt. If I am restored, our common guilt will seem far less, and you, at any rate, will hold me dear for services rendered, not received, by you.

229You mention talking to Culleo about this bill being directed against an individual.^[102] There is something in that point: but it is much better to have it repealed. If no one vetoes it, it is by far the surest course. If on the other hand anyone is opposed to it, he will veto the Senate’s decree too. There is no necessity to repeal anything else as well: the former law did not touch me. If we had had the sense to support it when it was brought forward, or to take no notice of it, which was all it deserved, it never would have done us any harm. It was then I first lost the use of my wits, or rather used them to my own destruction. It was blind, absolutely blind of us to put on mourning, to appeal to the crowd—a fatal thing to do before I was attacked personally. But I keep harping on what is over and done with. My point, however, is to urge you, when you do make a move, not to touch that law on account of its claims to popularity. But it is absurd of me to lay down what you should do or how. If only something could be done! And on that very point I am afraid your letters keep back a good deal, to save me from giving way to even deeper despair. What course of action do you suppose can be taken and how? Through the Senate? But you yourself have told me that a clause of Clodius’ bill, forbidding any motion or reference to my case, has been posted up in the House. How then does Domitius propose to make a motion? And how is it that Clodius holds his tongue, when the men you mention talk about the case and ask for a motion? And, if you think

231of acting through the people, can it be managed without the consent of all the tribunes? What about my goods and chattels? What about my house? Will they be restored? If not, how can I be? If you don’t see your way to managing that, what is it you want me to hope for? And, if there is nothing to hope for, what sort of life can I lead? Under these circumstances I am awaiting the gazette for August 1 at Thessalonica, before I make up my mind whether to take refuge on your estate, where I can avoid seeing those I don’t want to see, and see you, as you point out in your letter, and be nearer at hand if any action is being taken, or whether I shall go to Cyzicus. I believe you and Quintus want me to keep at hand.

Now, Pomponius, you used none of your wisdom in saving me from ruin—either because you thought I had enough common sense myself, or because you thought you owed me nothing but the support of your presence: while I, basely betrayed and hurried to my ruin, threw down my arms and fled, deserting my country, though all Italy would have stood up and defended me with enthusiasm. You looked on in silence, while I betrayed myself, my family and my possessions, to my enemies, though, even if you had not more sense than I had, you certainly had less cause for panic. Now, if you can, raise me from my fall, and in that render me assistance. But, if all ways are blocked, let me know of the fact, and do not keep on either reproaching me or offering us^[103] your sympathy. If I had any fault to find with your loyalty, I should not trust myself to your house in preference to all

233others. It is my own folly in thinking that your affection for me was as great as I wished it to be, that I am finding fault with. If it had been so, you would not have shown more loyalty, but you would have taken more trouble, and you would certainly have prevented me from rushing to my fate, and would not have had all the trouble you are now taking to repair the shipwreck. So please let me know all that you can ascertain for certain, and continue to wish to see me a somebody again, even if I cannot regain the position I once held and might have held. I hope you won’t think it is you and not myself I am blaming in this letter. If there is anyone to whom you think a letter ought to be sent in my name, please write one and see that it is sent.

August 17.

I am waiting for your letters of the first of August before I can decide at all where I shall go. If there is any hope, I shall go to Epirus: if not, I shall make for Cyzicus, or take some other direction. The more often I read your letters, the less hope I have: for, though they are cheerful, they tone down any hope they raise, so that one can easily see that your allegiance wavers between consolation of me and truth. I must therefore beg you to report facts just as they are, and what you really think of them.

August 19.

All the news I have had about my brother Quintus from June the 3rd to the end of August has been bad news without exception. But on the last of August Livineius, who had been sent by his former master, L. Regulus, came to me. He assured me that no notice whatever had been given of a prosecution though there was some talk of C. Clodius’ son undertaking one: and he brought me letters from Quintus himself. But on the next day came some of Sestius’ men, with some letters of yours which are not so positive and alarming as Livineius’ conversation was. My own unending distress of course renders me anxious, all the more so, as Appius would preside at the trial.

From the rest of your remarks in the same letter as to my own chances, I infer that our hopes are fainter than others make out. But since it will not be long now before the matter is settled, I will either remove to your house or still stay somewhere round here.

My brother writes that you alone are his support. I need not urge you to efforts, which you make of your own accord, nor will I offer my thanks, since you do not expect them. I only hope fate may allow us to enjoy our affection in safety. I am always looking eagerly for your letters: and please don’t be afraid either of boring me with your minuteness or paining me by telling the truth.

September 4.

You raised my hopes considerably by writing that Varro had assured you as a friend that Pompey was going to take up my case, and that he would appoint an agent as soon as he had received a letter which he was expecting from Caesar. Did it come to nothing? Or was Caesar’s letter hostile? Or is there still room for hope? You mentioned too that he used the words “after the elections.”

Please do let me have full information as to the state of my case,—you know the anxiety I am in and how kind it would be of you. For my brother, a dear good fellow and very fond of me, sends me nothing but hopeful news, for fear, I suppose, that I should entirely lose heart. Whereas your letters vary in tone; for your intention is neither to cast me into despondency nor to raise rash hopes in me. Pray do let me know everything you may succeed in discovering.

So long as your letters afforded me any ground for it, my hopes and my longings kept me at Thessalonica: but, as soon as I saw that all political business for this year had come to an end, I made up my mind not to go to Asia, because I cannot put up with society and I do not want to be far away in case the new magistrates should make a move. So I determined to go to your house in Epirus, not that the

239features of the place make any difference to me now that I shun the light of day entirely, but I should like to sail back to freedom from a port of yours, and, if that hope is cut off, I could not find a better place either to drag on my miserable existence, or, what is preferable, to end it. I shall have few people about me, and shall get free from society.

Your letters never aroused my hopes as much as other people’s: and yet my hopes were always fainter than your letters. However, since some kind of a move has been made in the matter, whatever kind it may be and whatsoever its cause, I will not disappoint either my dear and only brother’s sad and touching entreaties, nor the promises of Sestius and others, nor the appeals of my wife in her deep affliction and my little Tullia in her misery, nor your own true-hearted letters. Epirus shall be my road back to freedom or to what I mentioned before.

I beg and beseech you, Pomponius, as you see how I have been robbed of my honours and of my dearest and fondest possessions by men’s treachery, as you see how I was betrayed and cast aside by those on whose advice I relied, as you know how I was forced into betraying myself and my family, of your pity help me, and support my brother Quintus, who is not past salvation: guard Terentia and my children; as for me, wait for me in Rome, if you think there is any chance of seeing me there. If not, come to see me, if you can, and allot me of your land enough for my body to rest in; and send a man with letters as soon and as often as possible.

Sept. 15.

that this name is now yours and that your uncle has done his duty by you meets with my heartiest approval; I will reserve the phrase “I am glad” for a time when circumstances may permit of my using the word. Poor devil that I am! Everything would be going as right as possible with me, if my own courage and judgement and the loyalty of those in whom I trusted had not failed me. But I will not piece my misfortunes together, for fear of increasing my misery. I am sure you must recollect my former life and its charm and dignity. In the name of good luck and bad, do not let the efforts you are making to recover my position relax; and let me celebrate the birthday of my return in your delightful house with you and my family. Though my hopes and expectations of return have been roused to the highest pitch, I still thought of awaiting their fulfilment at your house in Epirus: but from letters I infer it would be more convenient for me not to be in the same neighbourhood.

You are quite right about my house and Curio’s speech. If only restoration is promised in general terms, everything else is comprised in that word: and of all things I am most anxious about my house. But I won’t enter into details: I trust myself entirely to your affection and loyalty.

That you have freed yourself from all embarrassments in taking over your large inheritance is exceedingly pleasant news to me; and I fully realize

243what an assistance to me is your promise to devote all your resources to my restoration, that I need not call on anyone else for help. I know too that you are taking on your shoulders several men’s burdens on my behalf, and that you are quite capable of bearing them, and will not require asking to do so. You forbid me to imagine that it has ever entered your head that I have done what I ought not or left undone what I ought to have done in my dealings with you—well, I will humour you and free my heart from that anxiety, but I shall count myself still deeper in your debt, because your kindness to me has far exceeded mine to you. Please send me news of everything you see or gather and of all that is being done; and urge all your friends to support my return.

Sestius’ bill does not pay sufficient regard to dignity or caution. The proposal should mention me by name, and contain a carefully worded clause about my property. Please pay attention to that point.

Thessalonica, Oct. 4.

It is just thirty days from the date of this letter since I had any news from you. My intentions are, as I have said before, to go to Epirus, and to await my fate there rather than anywhere else. I must beg you to inform me quite openly of anything you notice, whether for good or for bad, and, as you suggest, to send letters in my name to every one to whom you think it necessary.

October 28.

Though my brother Quintus and Piso have sent me careful accounts of what has been done, I am sorry you were too busy to write your usual full description of events and of your surmises. Plancius’ kindness keeps me here still, though I have several times tried to go to Epirus. He is inspired with a hope, which I do not share, that we may return together: which he hopes would redound to his honour. But now, as soon as news arrives of the approach of the soldiers, I shall have to make an effort to leave him. When I do, I will send word to you at once and let you know where I am. The courtesy which Lentulus shows in his actions, his promises and his letters, gives me some hope of Pompey’s good will: for you have often mentioned that he would do anything for him. With Metellus, my brother tells me, you have had as much success as he hoped. My dear Pomponius, fight hard for me to be allowed to live with you and with my family; and send me all the news. I am bowed down with grief through my longing for all my dear ones, who have always been dearer to me than myself. Take care of yourself.

Knowing that I should be a very long time without any news, if I went to Epirus through Thessaly, and that the people of Dyrrachium were warm friends of mine, I have come to them, after writing the first part of this letter at Thessalonica. As soon as I leave here and go to your house, I will let you know; and please write me every detail of whatsoever kind. Now I look either for the fulfilment of my hopes or for blank despair.

Dyrrachium, Nov 25.

On the 26th of November I received three letters from you. In one of them, posted on the 25th of October, you exhort me to keep up my courage and wait for January, and you give a full list of all the hopeful signs, Lentulus’ zeal for my cause, Metellus’ good will and Pompey’s policy. One of the others is undated, which is unlike you; but you give a clear clue to the time, for you say you were writing it on the very day that the bill was published by the eight tribunes, that is to say the 29th of October: and you state the advantages you think have resulted from the publication of the law. If my restoration and this law together are long past praying for, I hope your affection will make you regard the trouble I am taking about it with pity rather than amusement. But, if there is still some hope, please see to it that our new magistrates set up a more careful case. For the old tribunes’ bill had three sections, and the one about my return was carelessly worded; it does not provide for the restitution of anything but my citizenship and my position. In my fallen fortunes that is enough for me, but you cannot fail to see what ought to have been stipulated and how. The second clause is the usual form of indemnity: “If in virtue of this law there be any breach of other laws,” etc.

But it is the third clause, Pomponius, to which I would call your attention. What is its object, and who put it in? You know that Clodius had so provided that it was almost, if not quite impossible for either the Senate or the people to annul his law;

249but, you see, the imprecations^[105] attached to laws which are repealed are never regarded, otherwise hardly any law ever would be repealed; for there never is a law which did not hedge itself in with obstacles against its repeal. But, when a law is repealed, the provisions against repeal are repealed likewise. Though this is the case, and always has been in theory and in practice, our eight tribunes have thought fit to insert a clause: “If there be anything contained in this bill, which by law or popular decree,” that is by Clodius’ law, “cannot now or hereafter be brought forward, whether by way of proposal, repeal, amendment or modification, without penalty, or without involving the author of the proposal or amendment in a penalty or fine, no such proposal is made in this law.” And yet these tribunes did not run any risks; as a law made by one of their own body was not binding on them. That increases my suspicion that there is some trickery about it, as they have inserted a clause which does not apply to themselves, but is against my interest; and as a result the new tribunes, if they should happen to be rather timid, would suppose that clause still more indispensable. Nor did Clodius overlook the point: for in the meeting on November the third he said that this clause defined the powers of the tribunes elect. Yet you know quite well that no such clause is ever inserted in a law: and, if it were necessary, everybody would use it when repealing a law. Please try to find out how this clause escaped the notice of Ninnius and the rest, also who inserted it, and why the eight tribunes, after showing no hesitation about bringing my case before the House—which proves they did not think

251that section need be taken seriously—yet when it came to repealing the law, became so cautious that they feared a rule, which even those who are bound by the law do not regard, though they themselves were not bound by it. That clause I would rather the new tribunes did not propose; but do let them pass something—anything. I shall be quite contented with a single clause of recall, if only the matter can be settled. For some time past I have been ashamed of writing such long letters. For by the time you read this I am afraid that there may be no hope left, and that all my trouble may serve only to make you pity and others laugh. But, if there is any hope left, look at the bill which Visellius has drawn up for Fadius: it takes my fancy very much, whereas our friend Sestius’ proposal, which you say has your approval, does not please me at all.

The third letter is dated November 12, and in it you go through the reasons which you think are causing delay in my case, thoughtfully and carefully, mentioning Crassus, Pompey and the rest. Now, if there is the least chance of getting the matter settled by the good offices and authority of the conservatives and by getting a large mass of supporters, for heaven’s sake try to break the barrier down at a rush: devote yourself to it and incite others to join. But if, as I infer from your guesses as well as mine, there is no hope left, then I beg and pray you to cherish my poor brother Quintus, whom I have involved in my own ruin, and not to let him pursue any rash course which would endanger your sister’s son. Watch over my poor little boy, to whom I leave nothing but the hatred and the disgrace of my name, so far as you can, and support Terentia with your kindness in her

253unparalleled misfortune. I shall start for Epirus as soon as I have news about the first few days of the new tribunate. Please let me know in your next letter how the beginning has turned out.

November 29.

When you wrote to me some time ago that the estimates for the consular provinces^[106] were passed with your consent, I hoped you saw some good reason or other for that course, though I was afraid of the result: but now that I have been told by word of mouth and by letter that your policy was severely criticized, I am much disturbed at seeing the faint hope I had apparently taken from me. For, if the tribunes are annoyed with us, what hope is left? And they seem to me to have every reason for annoyance, when they were left out of the plan, though they had espoused my cause, and by our concession they have lost all use of their just right, especially as they assert that it was for my sake they wished to exercise their powers in fitting out the consuls, with a view not to oppose them but to attach them to my cause. But now if the consuls choose to stand aloof from me, they are perfectly free to do so, while, if they take my part, they can do nothing against the tribunes’ will. As for your writing that, if you had

255not assented, they would have got their way all the same through the people, that could never have happened, if the tribunes opposed it. So I am afraid that I have lost the tribunes’ favour, and that, if it is still retained, the bond which should have united the consuls with them has been lost.

There is another considerable disadvantage too. There was a strong opinion, or so at least it was reported to me, that the Senate would not pass any measure until my case was settled. That is now lost, and in a case where there was no necessity whatever; indeed the proceeding was unusual and unprecedented. For I do not think the estimates for the provinces were ever passed before the consuls entered on their office. The result is that, now that the firm resolution formed in favour of my case has been broken for this one occasion, there is no reason why any decree should not be passed. I don’t wonder that those friends to whom the question was referred agreed to it: it would of course have been difficult to find anyone who would openly oppose a measure so favourable to the two consuls. It would have been very difficult too not to oblige so good a friend as Lentulus, or Metellus, considering his kindness in laying aside his quarrel with me. But I am afraid that, while we could have retained their friendship in any case, we have thrown away that of the tribunes. Please write and tell me what the result has been, and how my whole case stands, as freely as you have before. For, however unpleasant the truth may be, I am grateful for it.

December 10.

After your departure from me I received a letter from Rome, from which I can see that I shall have to waste away in my present misery. For (you must take it in good part) if there had been any hopes of my salvation, I am sure your affection would not have permitted you to go away at such a time. But about that I will say no more, lest I appear ungrateful and seem to want to involve the whole world in my ruin. One thing I do beg of you; keep your promise to present yourself, wherever I am, before the New Year.

A letter from my brother Quintus has come, containing the decree which the Senate passed about me. I am thinking of waiting till the bill is brought forward; and then, if it meets with opposition, I will avail myself of the Senate’s expressed opinion, preferring to be deprived of my life rather than of my native land. Please make haste and come to me.

Your letter shows me that I am ruined beyond redemption; the facts speak for themselves. I implore you to stand by us in our misfortune, and not to let my family want for your assistance in anything. As you say, I myself shall see you soon.

261am in great difficulties with it and stand in need not so much of your means, which I know I can look upon as my own, as of your advice to gather the fragments together and arrange matters.

Now, though I suppose you have had all the news from your family or from messengers and rumour, I will give you a short account of everything I think you would rather learn from my letters. On the 4th of August, the very day the law about me was proposed, I started from Dyrrachium, and arrived at Brundisium on the 5th. There my little Tullia was waiting for me, on her own birthday, which; as it happened, was the commemoration day of Brundisium and of the temple of Safety near your house too. The coincidence was noticed and the people of Brundisium held great celebrations. On the 8th of August, while I was still at Brundisium, I heard from Quintus that the law had been passed in the Comitia Centuriata with extraordinary enthusiasm of all ages and ranks in Italy who had flocked to Rome in thousands. Then I started on my journey amid the rejoicings of all the loyal folk of Brundisium, and was met everywhere by deputations offering congratulations. When I came near the city, there was not a soul of any class known to my attendant,^[108] who did not come to meet me, except those enemies who could neither hide nor deny their enmity. When I reached the Capenan Gate, the steps of the temples were thronged with the populace. Their joy was exhibited in loud applause: a similar crowd accompanied me with like applause to the Capitol, and in the Forum and on the very Capitol there was an extraordinary gathering.

263Next day, on the 5th of September, I returned thanks to the Senate^[110] in the House. On those two days bread was very dear and crowds ran first to the theatre and then to the House, crying out at Clodius’ instigation that the dearth of corn was my fault. On the same days there were meetings of the House about the corn supply and Pompey was called upon by poor and rich alike to take the matter in hand. He was more than willing; and the people asked me by name to propose it: so I delivered my opinion carefully. As the ex-consuls, except Messalla and Afranius, were absent, thinking it was not safe to record a vote, a decree was passed in accordance with my proposal that Pompey should be appealed to take the matter in hand and a law should be passed. When this bill was read out, the people received the mention of my name with applause after the new silly fashion: and I delivered an harangue, with the permission of all the magistrates present, except one praetor and two tribunes. On the next day there was a full House and all the ex-consuls were willing to grant Pompey anything. He asked for a committee of fifteen, naming me at the head of them and saying that I should count as his second self in everything. The consuls drew up a law giving Pompey the direction of the whole corn supply in the world for five years: Messius another granting him the control of the treasury, and adding an army and a fleet and higher powers than those of the local officials in the provinces. The law we ex-consuls proposed is regarded now as quite moderate, this

265of Messius as perfectly intolerable. Pompey says he prefers the former; his friends that he prefers the latter. Favonius is leading the consular party who rebel against it, while I hold my peace, especially as the pontifices at present have given no answer about my house. If they annul the consecration, I shall have a splendid site. The consuls will value the building according to the decree of the Senate; if not, they will pull it down, lease it out in their own name, and reckon up the whole cost.

So my affairs are

My monetary affairs, as you know, are in an awful muddle: and there are some private matters which I won’t commit to writing. I am devoted to my brother Quintus as his extraordinary affection, virtue and loyalty deserve. I am looking forward to your coming and beg you to come soon, and to come resolved to give me the full benefit of your advice. I am standing at the threshold of a new life. Already those who took my part in my exile are beginning to feel annoyance at my presence, though they disguise it, and to envy me without even taking the trouble to disguise that. I really stand in urgent need of you.

If I am a less regular correspondent than others, please do not lay it to my carelessness or to my business either; for, though I am extraordinarily

267busy, no press of work could be sufficient to break the course of our affection or of my duty to you. Since I have come to Rome, this is the second time that I have heard of a messenger, and so this is the second letter I send.

In my former I described the sort of return I had, my position and the state of all my affairs:

After I sent that letter, there followed a great fight about my house. I delivered a speech^[112] before the pontifices on the 29th of September. I bestowed great pains on the matter, and, if ever I had any oratorical ability, or even if I never had before, on that occasion at any rate, my great indignation lent some vigour to my style. So its publication is a debt which I must not leave unpaid to the rising generation: and to you I will send it very soon, whether you want it or not. The pontifices decreed that “if the party alleging that he had dedicated had not been appointed by name either by order of the people or vote of the plebs, and if he had not been commanded to do so, either by order of the people or by vote of the plebs then it appeared that that part of the site might be restored to me without sacrilege,” I was congratulated at once, everybody thinking that the house had been adjudged to me. But all of a sudden up gets a man to speak, at Appius’ invitation, and announces that the pontifices have decided in his favour and I am trying to take possession by force: he exhorts them to follow him and Appius and defend their shrine of Liberty. Thereupon, though even those pliable persons were partly lost in wonder and partly laughing at the man’s folly, I determined

269not to go near the place until the consuls by decree of the Senate had given out the contract for restoring the porch of Catulus. On the first of October there was a full meeting of the Senate. All the pontifices who were senators were summoned: and Marcellinus, a strong partisan of mine, being called upon first for his opinion, asked them what was the purport of their decree. Then M. Lucullus speaking for all his colleagues answered, that the pontifices had to decide points of religion and the Senate points of law: he and his colleagues had settled the religious point and now in the Senate they would join the other senators in settling the legal point. Accordingly as each of them was called upon in his turn, he delivered a long speech in my favour. When it came to Clodius, he wanted to waste the whole day and spoke on endlessly, but at last, after speaking for nearly three hours, he was forced by the indignant outcry of the Senate to wind up his speech. A decree was passed in accordance with Marcellinus’ proposal with only one dissentient voice: and then Serranus put his veto on it. Both consuls at once referred the veto to the Senate, and many resolute speeches were delivered: “that the Senate approved of the restitution of my house,” “that a contract should be drawn up for the portico of Catulus,” “that the Senate’s resolution should be supported by all the magistrates,” “that if any violence occurred, the Senate would hold him responsible who had vetoed its decree.” Serranus showed the white feather and Cornicinus played the same old farce: he threw off his toga and flung himself at his son-in-law’s feet. Serranus demanded a night to think it over. They would not grant it, remembering the first of January. At last with my

271consent the concession was unwillingly made. On the next day the decree which I send was passed. Then the consuls gave out the contract for the restoration of the portico of Catulus; and the contractors immediately pulled down that portico of his to everybody’s satisfaction. The consuls valued my house at nearly £18,000^[113] at their assessor’s advice: and the other things very stingily—my Tusculan villa at £4,400 and my Formian at £2,200.^[114] This estimate was violently decried not only by all the conservative party, but by the people too. If you ask me the reason, they say it was my bashfulness, as I did not refuse or make pressing demands. But that is not the reason; for that in itself would have counted for me. But the fact is, my dear Pomponius, those very same men—you know quite well who I mean—who cut my wings, do not wish them to grow again. But I hope they are growing. Do you only come to me. But I fear you may be delayed by the visit of your and my friend Varro.

There you have all that has happened. Now you shall dip into my thoughts. I have let myself be appointed legate to Pompey with a reservation that it should not hamper me at all. If I did not want to have a free hand to stand for the censorship, if the next consuls hold a censorial election, I would have taken a votive commission^[115] to nearly any shrines or groves. For that was what suited my idea of my interests best. But I wanted to be free either to stand for election or to quit the city at the beginning of summer and meanwhile I thought it good policy

273to keep myself before the eyes of the citizens who have treated me well.

As regards public affairs those are my plans: but my private affairs are in a horrible muddle. My house is being built and you know the expense and the bother it entails: my Formian villa is being restored, though I cannot bring myself either to abandon it or to look at it. My house at Tusculum I have put up for sale: I can easily do without a suburban residence. My friends’ benevolence has been exhausted in what has brought nothing but dishonour: this you saw, though you were absent, and so do I who am on the spot: and I might have obtained all I wanted easily from their efforts and their wealth, if my champions had allowed it. In this respect I am now in sore straits. My other anxieties may not be rashly mentioned. My brother and daughter are devoted to me. I am looking forward to your coming.

I am sure you are wanting to know what is going on here and to know it from me too, not that there is any more certainty about events which take place before the eyes of the whole world, if I write to you about them, than if others either write or tell you of them: but that you may see from my letters how I am taking events and what are my feelings and my general state of existence.

On the 3rd of November the workmen were driven out of my building-ground by armed assault: the porch of Catulus, which was being repaired on a contract made by the consuls in accordance with a decree of

275the Senate, and had nearly got as high as the roof, was knocked down: my brother Quintus’ house was first smashed by a discharge of stones from my plot, and then set on fire under Clodius’ orders by firebrands hurled before the eyes of the whole city, amidst the groans and growls—I will not say of the loyal party, which seems to have vanished out of existence—but simply of every human creature. He was rushing about in a frenzy, thinking of nothing but the slaughter of his enemies after this mad freak, and canvassing the city quarter by quarter, openly promising liberation to slaves. Before this, when he was trying to shirk his trial, he had a case hard indeed to support and obviously wrongful, but still it was a case: he could deny things, he could put the blame on others, he could even plead that he had the right on his side in some respects. But after this wreckage, arson and pillage, his own supporters have left him in the lurch and he hardly has a hold now even on Decimus the marshal, or Gellius: he has to take slaves into his confidence and sees, that if he openly commits all the murders he wishes to commit, his case before the court will not be one whit worse than it is now. So, on the 11th of November, as I was going down the Sacred Way, he followed me with his gang. There were shouts, stones, clubs, swords, all without a moment’s warning. We stepped aside into Tettius Damio’s hall: and those who were with me easily prevented his roughs from entering. He might have been killed himself: but I have got tired of surgery and am beginning a regime cure. He realized that there was a universal outcry not for his prosecution but for his execution, and has since behaved in such a way that a Catiline looks ultraconservative

277beside him. For on the 12th of November he attempted to storm and burn Milo’s house—the one on the Cermalus—openly bringing men with shields and drawn swords and others with lighted torches to the spot at eleven o’clock in the morning. His own headquarters during the assault were P. Sulla’s house. Then Q. Flaccus led forth a gallant band from Milo’s family house and slew the most notorious of Clodius’ troop of ruffians. He wanted to slay Clodius himself: but he was skulking in the recesses of Sulla’s house. There followed a meeting of the Senate on the 14th: Clodius stayed at home: Marcellinus behaved splendidly: and everybody was enthusiastic. Metellus with the assistance of Appius and, mark you, your great friend^[118] of whose constancy you sent me such a veracious account, tried the ruse of talking the time away. Sestius was furious, Clodius afterwards vowed vengeance on the city, if his election did not take place. Marcellinus posted up his resolution which he had in writing when he delivered it—it provided that my entire case should be included in the trial, the attack on my building ground, the arson and the assault on my person, and that all these should precede the election—and Milo gave notice that he intended to watch the sky for omens on all the election days.

Disorderly meetings were held by Metellus, wild meetings by Appius and raging mad meetings by Publius. But the end of it all was that the elections would have taken place, if Milo had not reported evil omens in the Campus Martius. On the 19th of November Milo took up his position in the Campus before midnight with a large force; while Clodius in spite of

279his picked gangs of runaway slaves did not venture to show himself. Milo to the huge delight of everybody and to his own great credit stayed there till midday: and the three brethren’s struggle ended in disgrace, their strength broken and their mad pride humbled. Metellus; however, demands that the prohibition should be repeated in the forum on the next day. There was no necessity, he said, for Milo to come to the Campus at night; he would be in the Comitium at six in the morning. So on the 20th Milo went to the Comitium in the early hours of the morning. At daybreak Metellus came sneaking into the Campus by something like byepaths. Milo catches the fellow up “between the groves”^[120] and serves his notice: and he retired amid loud jeers and insults from Q. Flaccus. The 21st was a market-day, and for two days there were no meetings.

It is now three o’clock on the morning of the 23rd as I am writing. Milo has already taken possession of the Campus. Marcellus, the candidate, is snoring loud enough for me to hear him next door. I have just had news that Clodius’ hall is utterly deserted, save for a few rag and bob tails with a canvas lantern. His side are complaining that I am at the bottom of it all: but they little know the courage and wisdom of that hero. His valour is marvellous. I can’t stop to mention some of his new strokes of genius. But this is the upshot: I believe the elections will not be held, and Milo will bring Publius before the bar, unless he kills him first. If he gives him a chance in a riot, I can see Milo will kill him with his own hands. He has got no scruples

281about it and avows his intentions, undeterred by my downfall: for he has never followed the advice of a jealous and treacherous friend, nor trusted in a weak aristocrat.

So far as my mind is concerned, I am as strong as ever I was even in my most palmy days, if not stronger; but my circumstances are straitened. My brother Quintus’ liberality I shall repay, in spite of his protests, as the state of my finances compels me—by the aid of friends, so as not entirely to beggar myself. What general course of action to adopt I cannot make up my mind without your assistance; so make haste.

I was charmed by Cincius’ visit on the 28th of Rome. January before daybreak: for he told me you were in Italy and he was sending some men to you. I did not like them to go without a letter from me—not that I had anything to write, especially when you are so near, but that I might express my delight at your arrival and how I have longed for it. So fly to me with the assurance that your love for me is fully reciprocated. The rest we will discuss when we meet. I am writing in haste. The day you arrive, mind, you and your party are to accept my hospitality.

I shall be delighted if you can pay me a visit. You will be surprised at Tyrannio’s excellent arrangement in my library. What is left of it is much better than I expected: still I should be glad if you would

283send me two of your library slaves for Tyrannio to employ to glue pages together and assist in general, and would tell them to get some bits of parchment to make title-pieces, which I think you Greeks call “sillybi.” That is only if it is convenient to you. In any case mind you come yourself, if you can stick in such a place, and bring Pilia with you. For that is only right and Tullia wishes her to come. My word! you have bought a fine troop. I hear your gladiators are fighting splendidly. If you had cared to let them out, you would have cleared your expenses on these two shows. But of that later. Be sure you come, and, as you love me, remember the library slaves.

Come now, do you really imagine I prefer my things to be read and criticized by anyone but you? Then why did I send them to anyone else first? The man I sent them to was very pressing and I had not a copy. Anything else? Well, yes—though I keep mouthing the pill instead of swallowing it—I was a bit ashamed of my palinode. But good-bye to honesty, straightforwardness and uprightness! You would hardly believe the treachery of our leaders, as they want to be and would be, if they had any honour. I knew full well how they had taken me in, abandoned me and cast me off. Still I resolved to stick to them in politics. But they have proved the same as ever: and at last I have come to my senses under your guidance. You will say your advice applied exclusively to my actions and did not include writing too. The fact is, I

285wanted to tie myself down to this new alliance so as to leave myself no chance of slipping back to those who do not cease to envy me, even when they ought to pity me. However, I was quite moderate in my treatment of the subject, as I have said. I will let myself go more, if he takes it well, and those make wry faces who are annoyed to see me occupy a villa which used to belong to Catulus, forgetting that I bought it from Vettius; and who declare I ought not to have built a house, but ought to have sold the site. That however is nothing compared with their unholy joy, when the very speeches I delivered in support of their views were alienating me from Pompey. Let us have an end of it. Since those who have no influence refuse me their affection, I may as well try to win that of those who have some influence. You will say you wish I had before. I know you wished it, and I was a downright ass. But now is the time to show affection for myself, since I cannot get any from them anyhow.

I am very grateful to you for going to see my house so often. Crassipes is swallowing all my travelling money. You say I must go straight to your country house. It seems to me more convenient to go to your town house, and on the next day, it can’t make any difference to you. But we shall see. Your men have beautified my library by binding the books and affixing title-slips. Please thank them,

The news about Lentulus I feel of course as I ought: we have lost a good man and a fine fellow, and one who combined a remarkable strength of character with great courtesy. Still I find some consolation,

287though a poor one, in the thought that I need not grieve for him—not for the same reason as Saufeius and your Epicurean friends, but because he was so true a patriot that it seems as though a merciful providence had snatched him from his country’s fiery ruin. For what could be more shameful than the life we are all leading, especially myself? You, in spite of a political bent, have avoided wearing any special yoke; but you share the universal bondage. But think of the sufferings I undergo, when I am taken for a lunatic, if I say what I ought about the State, for a slave, if I say what expediency dictates, and for a cowed and helpless bondsman, if I hold my tongue. I suffer as you may suppose, with the added bitterness that I cannot show my grief without seeming ungrateful. Well! why shouldn’t I take a rest, and flee to the haven of retirement? I haven’t the chance. Then be it war and camp. And so I must be a subaltern, after refusing to be a captain. So be it. That I see is your opinion, and I wish I had always followed your advice. Hobson’s choice^[125] is all that is left to me. But upon my soul I can’t stomach it, and have a fellow feeling for Philoxenus, who preferred to go back to his prison.^[126] However, I am spending my time here devising a way of confounding their policy, and when we meet you will strengthen my purpose.

I see your letters were written at several times, but I received them all together, and that increased

289my sorrow; for, as it happened, I first read the three in which you said Lentulus was a little better; and then, lo and behold, a thunderbolt in the fourth. Still, as I said, he is out of misery, while we live on in an Iron Age.^[127]

I have not forgotten your advice to write that attack on Hortensius, though I have drifted into other things. But upon my word, I jibbed at the very beginning. I look foolish enough for not submitting to his conduct, outrageous though it was, from a friend, and, if I were to write about it, I fear I should enhance my folly by advertising his insult, while at the same time the self-restraint which I showed in my actions might not be so apparent in writing, and this way of taking satisfaction might seem rather weak. But we will see. Be sure you send me a line as often as you can, and take care you get from Lucceius the letter I sent asking him to write my biography. It is a very pretty bit of writing. Urge him to be quick about it, and give him my thanks for his answer undertaking it. Have a look at my house as often as possible. Say something to Vestorius: he is behaving most liberally to me.

Nothing could be more à propos than your letter, which has relieved me about the dear child Quintus very greatly. Chaerippus had come two hours earlier with the wildest tales. As to your news about Apollonius, confound him! A Greek to go bankrupt and

291think he has the same privilege as a Roman knight! For of course Terentius was within his rights. As to Metellus “de mortuis nil nisi bonum,” still for years no citizen has died who——For your money I will go bail. Why should you fear, whoever he has appointed his heir, unless it were Publius? However, he has chosen an heir no worse than himself: so you won’t have to open your coffers over this business, and you will be more careful another time.

You will attend to my instructions about the house, hire some guards and give Milo a hint. There is a tremendous outcry here at Arpinum about Laterium.^[131] Of course I am much distressed about it: but “little he recked my rede.” For the rest, look after little Quintus with the affection you always show towards him.

Your letter contained many delightful passages, but nothing to beat the “plate of red herrings.” For as to what you say about the little debt, “don’t holloa till you are out of the wood.”^[132]

I can’t find anything like a country house for you. In the town there is something, and quite close to me too, but it is not certain if it is for sale. Let me tell you that Antium is the Buthrotum of Rome, and just what your Buthrotum is to Corcyra. Nothing could be quieter or fresher or prettier: “this be my own

293sweet home.” Since Tyrannio has arranged my books, the house seems to have acquired a soul: and your Dionysius and Menophilus were of extraordinary service. Nothing could be more charming than those bookcases of yours now that the books are adorned with title-slips. Farewell. Please let me know about the gladiators: but only if they are behaving well; if not, I don’t want to know.

Apenas had hardly gone when your letter came. Really? Do you think he won’t propose his law? Pray speak a little more clearly, I hardly think I caught your meaning. But let me know at once, if you possibly can. Well, as they have given an extra day to the games, I shall be all the better contented to spend that day here with Dionysius.

About Trebonius I heartily agree with you. As for Domitius, his dénouement was as like mine as two peas; the same persons had a hand in it, it was equally unexpected, and the conservative party deserted us both. There is only one point of difference: he deserved his fate. Perhaps my fall was the less hard to bear. For what could be more humiliating than for one, who all his life long has looked forward to the consulship as his birth-right, to fail to obtain it—and that too when there is no one or at most only one other candidate standing against him? But, if it is true that our friend^[134] has in his note-books as many pages of names of future consuls as of past, then

295Domitius has only one rival in his misfortunes—the country which has given up even hoping for better days.

Your letter was the first to give me information about Natta: I could never abide the man. You ask about my poem. Well, what if it wants to take wing? Will you let it? I had begun to mention Fabius Luscus: he was always a great admirer of mine, and I never disliked him, for he was intelligent enough and very worthy and unassuming. As I had not seen him for a long time, I thought he was away: but I hear from this fellow Gavius of Firmum that the man is in Rome and has been here all along. It struck me as odd. You will say it is an insignificant trifle. But he had told me a good many things, of which there was no doubt, about those brothers from Firmum: and what has made him shun me, if he has shunned me, I cannot imagine.

Your advice to act diplomatically and not to steer too close to the wind^[136] I will follow: but I shall want more than my own stock of wisdom; so, as usual, I shall draw on you. Please scent out anything you can from Fabius, if you can get at him, and suck that guest of yours dry, and write to me every day about these points and anything else. When you have nothing to write, write and say so. Look after yourself.

I should much like to know whether the tribunes are hindering the census by declaring days void—for there is a rumour to that effect—and what is happening about the census in general and what people are

297thinking. I met Pompey here; and he told me a lot of political news. He was very dissatisfied with himself, as he said—for that is a necessary proviso in his case. Of Syria he expressed a very low opinion, while he runs down^[137] Spain—with the same proviso “as he said,” which I think must be inserted everywhere when he is mentioned, like the tag “this too is by Phocylides.” To you he expressed his thanks for undertaking the arrangement of the statues, and he laid himself out to be most uncommonly pleasant to me. He even came to visit me in my house at Cumae. The last thing he seemed to wish was that Messalla should stand for the consulship: and if you have any information on that point, I should like to know it.

I am most grateful to you for saying that you will recommend me as a subject for a panegyric to Lucceius and for your frequent visits to my house. My brother Quintus has written that he will pay you a visit on the 7th of May since you have his dear child with you. I left my villa at Cumae on the 26th of April, spent that night with Paetus at Naples, and am writing this very early in the morning of the 27th on my way to my place at Pompeii.

Puteoli is full of the report that Ptolemy is restored. If you have more definite news, I should like to know it. Here I am feasting on Faustus’

299library. Perhaps you thought it was on the attractions of Puteoli and the Lucrine lakes. Well, I have them too. But upon my word the more I am deprived of other enjoyments and pleasures on account of the state of politics, the more support and recreation do I find in literature. And I would rather be in that niche of yours under Aristotle’s statue than in their curule chair, and take a walk with you at home than have the company which I see will be with me on my path. But my path I leave to fate or god; if there be any god that looks after these things. Please have a look at my garden path and my Spartan bath and the other things which are in Cyrus’ province, when you can, and urge Philotimus to make haste, so that I may have something in that line to match yours. Pompey came to his place at Cumae on the Parilia: and at once sent a man to me with his compliments. I am going to call on him on the morning following, as soon as I have written this letter.

I was delighted with your two letters which I received together on the 26th. Go on with the story. I am longing to hear the whole of it. I should also like you to look into the meaning of this: you can find out from Demetrius. Pompey told me he was expecting Crassus at his house at Alba on the 27th: and as soon as he arrived they were going to Rome together to settle accounts with the tax-gatherers. I asked, “During the show of gladiators?” And he answered, “Before it begins,” Please let me know what this means, either at once, if you know, or when he gets to Rome.

301I am devouring literature here with that extraordinary person—for upon my soul I really think he is extraordinary—Dionysius, who sends his respects to you and all your family.

“Than universal knowing nought more sweet.” So satisfy my curiosity by describing to me all about the first and second days of the show, the censors, Appius, and that unsexed Appuleius^[140] of the populace: and finally please let me know what you are doing yourself. For to tell you the truth your letters are as exciting to me as a revolution.

I did not bring anyone away with me except Dionysius; yet I have no fear of feeling the lack of conversation: I find the youth so entertaining. You will give my book to Lucceius. I am sending you one by Demetrius of Magnesia, so that there may be a messenger handy to bring back your answer at once.

Egnatius is at Rome: but I pleaded Halimetus’ cause strongly with him at Antium. He assured me he would speak seriously to Aquilius. You can look him up, if you like. I hardly think I can keep the appointment with Macro: for I see that the auction at Larinum is on the 15th and the two following days. Pray forgive me, since you think so highly of Macro. But as you love me, dine with me on the 2nd, and bring Pilia with you. You absolutely must. On the 1st I am thinking of dining in Crassipes’ gardens in lieu of an inn; and so I cheat the senatorial decree.^[141] From there I shall proceed home

303after dinner, so as to keep my appointment with Milo in the morning. There then I shall see you, and I will wait till you come. My whole family sends its respects.

I see you know of my arrival at my Tusculum villa on the 14th of November. There I was met by Dionysius. I want to be back in Rome on the 17th. When I say want, I mean I have to be in town for Milo’s wedding. There is some idea of an election. Even if it has come off, I am not at all sorry to have missed the disputes which I hear have taken place in the Senate. For I should either have had to give my support against my conscience, or neglect my bounden duty. But I hope to goodness you will write me as full a description as possible of that affair and of the present state of politics and tell me how the consuls are taking all this pother. I am ravenous for news, and, to tell you the truth, I suspect everything. They say our friend Crassus made a less dignified start^[144] in his uniform than L. Paulus of old, who rivalled him in age and in his two consulships. What a poor thing he is! I have been working hard at the books on oratory: and have had them on hand a long time and done a lot to them: you can have them copied. Again I beg you to send me a sketch of the present situation, that I may not feel an utter stranger when I get back.

Our friend Vestorius has informed me by letter that you are believed to have left Rome on the 10th of May, later than you said you would, because you had not been quite well. I sincerely hope you are better now. Would you please write home telling them to give me the run of your books, more especially of Varro, just as though you were there? I shall have to use some passages from those books for the works I have in hand, which I hope will meet with your hearty approval. I should be glad if you would let me know, if you happen to have any news, from my brother Quintus particularly, or from C. Caesar, or anything about the elections and politics—you generally have a pretty scent for such things. If you have no news, write something anyhow: for no letter of yours ever seemed ill-timed or long-winded to me. But above all pray come back as soon as possible, when your business and your tour are completed to your satisfaction. Give my regards to Dionysius. Take care of yourself.

I am glad to hear about Eutychides. Taking your old name and your new surname, he will be T. Caecilius, just as Dionysius has become M. Pomponius by a combination of yours and mine. It is really a great pleasure to me that Eutychides should know that his freedom is a favour granted on my

307account, and that his sympathy with me in my sorrow was not lost on me at the time nor forgotten afterwards.

I suppose your journey to Asia is inevitable; for you would never want to put such a distance between yourself and all your nearest and dearest friends and possessions without very good reason. But you will show your consideration and your love for your friends by the quickness with which you return. I am however afraid the attractions of the rhetorician Clodius and the reputed deep learning of Pituanius, who just now is devoted to Greek literature, may keep you from returning. But, if you would prove yourself a good man and true, find your way back to us by the date you promised. You can live with them when they get safely to Rome.

You say you are longing for a line of some sort from me. I have written a letter full of news, with everything described as in a diary, but I suppose it was never delivered, as you don’t seem to have stopped long in Epirus. Besides my letters are generally not of a kind that I like to give to anyone, unless I can be sure he will deliver them to you.

Now I will tell you the news of the town. On the 4th of July Sufenas and Cato were acquitted, Procilius condemned. That shows us that our lights of the law care not a straw for bribery, elections, a political deadlock, treason or the country in general. They prefer one not to murder a father of a family in his own home; but even that preference has no overwhelming majority in its favour: for 22 voted for acquittal against 28 for condemnation. Publius no doubt had awakened the sympathy of the jury by his eloquent peroration for the prosecution. Hortalus was retained and behaved as usual. I did not utter

309a word: for my little girl, who is ill, was afraid I might offend Publius. After all this the people of Reate took me to their “banks and braes” to plead their cause against the Interamnates before the consul and ten commissioners, because the Veline lake, drained by the channel cut by M’. Curius through the mountain,^[147] flowed into the Nar. By this means the famous Rosia has been dried up, though it is still moderately damp. I stayed with Axius, who took me for a visit to the Seven Waters too.

For Fonteius’ sake I returned to Rome on the 9th of July. I went to the theatre and was greeted with loud and unbroken applause—but don’t bother about that: I am a fool to mention it. Then I gave my attention to Antiphon. He was granted his freedom before he appeared: and, not to keep you in suspense, he won his laurels. But there never was such a little weakling with so little voice and so.... But keep that to yourself. However in the Andromache he was taller than Astyanax: among the rest there was no one of his size. You want to know next about Arbuscula: she pleased me very much. The games were magnificent and much liked. The wild beast hunt was put off till later.

Now follow me to the election field. There is an outburst of bribery. More by token, the rate of interest has risen from 4 per cent to 8 per cent since the 15th of July. You will say: “Well, I can put up with that at any rate.” And you call yourself a man and a patriot! Memmius is supported by all Caesar’s influence. The consuls have coupled him with Domitius in an agreement which I dare not commit to paper. Pompey is raging and growling and backing

311Scaurus; but whether ostensibly or in earnest is more than one can say. None of them is romping ahead: money levels all their ranks. Messalla is not in the running, not that his heart or his friends have failed him, but the coalition of the consuls and Pompey are both against him. I think the elections will have to be postponed. The candidates for the tribunate have taken an oath to submit their conduct to Cato’s approval, and have deposited £4,400^[149] with him on the condition that any one of them who is condemned by Cato shall lose it and it shall be given to his rivals.

I am writing this the day before the elections are expected to come off. But on the 28th I will give you a full account of them, if they have taken place and the messenger has not started. If they really are conducted without bribery, which people think will be the case, then Cato alone will have done more than all the laws and all the law courts can do. I am acting for Messius, who has been recalled from his office. Appius had given him a commission on Caesar’s staff: but Servilius issued a warrant requiring his presence. The tribes he has to face are the Pomptine, Veline and Maecian. It is a sharp struggle, however it is getting on fairly well. Then I have to get ready for Drusus and after that for Scaurus. These will make grand titles for my speeches. I may even have the names of the consuls elect to add to the list; and, if Scaurus is not one of them, he will find himself in serious difficulties in this trial.

From my brother Quintus’ letters I suspect he is now in Britain, and I am very anxious to know how he is getting on. One point I have certainly gained:

313Caesar has given many strong proofs which assure me of his esteem and affection. Please pay my compliments to Dionysius, and beg and urge him to come as soon as possible and undertake the instruction of my son and of myself too.

The bare fact that my letter is by the hand of an amanuensis will show you how busy I am. I have nothing to grumble about as regards the frequency of your letters, but most of them merely told me where you were. That they were from you showed, too, that you were well. The two of this sort which gave me the most pleasure were those dated almost simultaneously from Buthrotum: for I was anxious to know whether you had a good crossing. But it is more the regularity of this constant supply of letters which has pleased me than the richness of their contents. The one that your guest M. Paccius delivered was of importance and full of matter: so I will answer that. The first thing is that I have shown Paccius, both by word and by deed, the weight a recommendation from you carries. Accordingly he is among my intimate friends now, though I did not know him before.

Now for the rest. You mention Varro: I will try and get him in somewhere, if I can find a place. But you know the style of my Dialogues: just as in those On the Orator, which you laud to the skies, I could not let the interlocutors mention anyone except persons they had known or heard of, so here too in the dialogue On the Republic which I have begun, I

315have put the discussion in the mouths of Africanus, Philus, Laelius and Manilius, adding the youths Q. Tubero, P. Rutilius and the two sons-in-law of Laelius, Scaevola and Fannius. So I am thinking of contriving some way of mentioning him appropriately—for that I think is what you want—in one of the introductions. I am giving an introduction to each book, as Aristotle does in the work he called the Exoterics. And I only hope I may manage to get him in. For as you fully comprehend, I have set my hand to a subject of wide range and of some difficulty, which requires much leisure; and that is precisely what I have not got.

While praising those books, you miss the character of Scaevola from the scene. It was not without good reason that I removed him. Our god Plato did the same in his Republic. When Socrates called on that wealthy and cheery old soul Cephalus in the Piraeus, the old man takes part in the discussion during the introductory conversation; but after a very neat speech, he pleads that he wants to go to a divine service, and does not come back again. I fancy Plato thought it would have been inartistic to keep a man of that age any longer in so lengthy a discussion. I thought there was still more reason to be careful in the case of Scaevola, who was at the age and in the state of health in which you must remember he was, and was crowned with such honours that it would hardly have been proper for him to spend several days with Crassus at his villa at Tusculum. Besides, the talk in the first book was not unconnected with Scaevola’s pursuits: while the remaining books contained a technical discussion, as you know. In such I did not like the merry old man, you remember, to take a part.

317In Pilia’s business I will be sure to do what you suggest: for, as you say, the point is quite clear on Aurelianus’ evidence. And it will give me a chance of glorifying myself in my Tullia’s eyes. I am supporting Vestorius: for I see you regard it as a favour, and I make him see it too. But you know the kind of man he is: frightfully difficult to get on with, even for two such easy-going people.

Now for your questions about C. Cato. You know he was acquitted under the Junian and Licinian law. The Fufian law will acquit him too, I assure you, and that as much to the relief of his accusers as of his supporters. However, he has made his peace with Milo and myself. Drusus is being prosecuted by Lucretius. The day for challenging the jury is fixed for the 3rd of July. About Procilius there are sinister rumours: but you know what juries are. Hirrus is on good terms with Domitius. The decree which these consuls have carried about the provinces, “whosoever henceforth,” etc., I do not think will have any effect.

I don’t know what to say to your question about Messalla: I have never seen candidates more evenly matched. You know Messalla’s support. Scaurus has been called into court by Triarius; without any great sympathy for him being aroused, if you want to know. However his aedileship recalls no unpleasant memories, and their remembrance of his father has some weight with the country voters. The other two plebeian candidates are about equal, as Domitius is strong in friends and his very popular gladiatorial exhibition will count for him too, while Memmius is popular with Caesar’s soldiers and relies on the support of Pompey’s Gaul. If that does not avail him,

319it is thought some one will block the elections till Caesar’s return, especially since Cato’s acquittal.

There, I have answered the letter Paccius brought. Now you must let me scold you, if you deserve it. In the letter dated from Buthrotum which was delivered by C. Decimius, you say you think you will have to go to Asia. For the life of me I cannot see any reason why it should make the least little bit of difference whether you act by proxy or in person; nor why you should so often go to such out of the way places. But I wish I had tackled you about it before you had taken any steps: then I should certainly have had some influence. As it is, I will keep the rest of my scolding for another time. I only hope it may prevail on you to return quickly.

The reason why I write so seldom to you is that I do not know where you are or are going to be. But as there was some one or other who thought he might see you, I decided to give him this letter. Since you think of going to Asia, let me know when we may expect you back and what you have done about Eutychides.

I suppose you think I have forgotten my old custom and rule and write less frequently than I used; but the fact is that I have not given letters to anyone going to Epirus or Athens or Asia, unless he was going expressly to you, because there was no certainty where you were or where you were going. For our letters are not such that it would do no harm to us, if they are not delivered. They are so full of

321secrets that we cannot even trust an amanuensis as a rule, for fear of some jest leaking out.

The consuls’ infamy has had a lurid light thrown on it owing to C. Memmius, one of the candidates, reading out in the Senate an agreement made by himself and his fellow-candidate Domitius with them. If they were elected to the consulship, they were both to give the consuls £350 each, if they did not produce three augurs who would depose that they were present at the carrying of a lex curiata—which had never been passed; and two ex-consuls who would depose to having been present at the drafting of a decree for the fitting out of the consular provinces—though there had never been any meeting of the Senate about it at all. As this compact was alleged not to be a mere verbal compact, but one properly drawn up with the sums promised on it, drafts on the bank, and many other documents, Memmius exhibited it, with all the items entered,^[155] on the suggestion of Pompey. It was all the same to Appius: he had nothing to lose by it. The other has had a sad comedown, and I may say is quite done for. Memmius, however, having dissolved the coalition against Calvinus’ will, has sunk out of mind, and his ruin is all the more irretrievable because we know now that his disclosure annoyed Caesar very much. Our friend Messalla and his fellow-competitor Domitius were very liberal to the people, and could not be more popular. They are certain of election. But the Senate has decreed that a trial with closed doors should be held before the elections, and each candidate’s conduct inquired into by the panels chosen by lot for all of them. The candidates are in a great fright: but some of the jury—among

323them Opimus, Veiento, and Rantius—have appealed to the tribunes to prevent their being called upon to serve without the sanction of the people. The affair is going on. A senatorial decree postponed the elections until an enactment about the trial with closed doors was carried. The day for that enactment came, and Terentius vetoed it. The consuls, who were taking the matter very coolly, referred the point to the Senate. Thereupon there was Bedlam, and I contributed my share of noise. You will say: “Can you never hold your tongue?” Forgive me: I hardly can. But could anything be more ridiculous? The Senate had passed a decree that the elections should not be held before that enactment was passed: if it was vetoed, then the matter should be brought forward again. The law was brought forward casually; it was vetoed to the satisfaction of the proposers; the matter was referred to the Senate: and they decided that it was to the interest of the State that the elections should be held as soon as possible.

Scaurus, who was acquitted in the last few days, after a most elaborate speech from me in his defence, gave the requisite donations to the people tribe by tribe at his own house, since all the days up to the last of September, on which I am writing, had been rendered impossible for the elections by ill omens announced by Scaevola. But though his liberality exceeded theirs, those who came first won the most popularity. I should like to see your face as you read this. For of course you have no hope that the business will be protracted over many weeks. But there is going to be a meeting of the Senate on the first of October, to-day, for the day is already breaking. There no one will speak boldly except Antius and

325Favonius: Cato is ill. You need not be afraid for me, but I won’t promise anything.

What else do you want to know? Oh! the trials, I suppose. Drusus and Scaurus are thought to be innocent. Three candidates will probably be prosecuted, Domitius by Memmius, Messalla by Q. Pompeius Rufus, Scaurus by Triarius or L. Caesar. What shall I be able to find to say for them, you will ask. May I die, if I know. Certainly I find no suggestions in those three books you praise so highly.

Here is the other news. From my brother’s letters I hear that Caesar shows signs of extraordinary affection for me, and this is confirmed by a very cordial letter from Caesar himself. The result of the war in Britain is looked forward to with anxiety. For it is proved that the approach to the island is guarded with astonishing masses of rock, and it has been ascertained too that there is not a scrap of silver in the island, nor any hope of booty except from slaves; but I don’t fancy you will find any with literary or musical talents among them.

Paulus has almost reached the roof of his colonnade in the Forum. He has used the same old columns, but has executed most magnificently the part he put out on contract. It goes without saying that a monument like that will win for him more popularity and glory than anything. And so we friends of Caesar—myself and Oppius I mean, though you may explode with wrath at my confession—have thought nothing of spending half a million of money^[157] for that public work of which you used to speak so enthusiastically, the extension of the Forum and continuation of it as far as the Hall of Liberty. We could not

327satisfy the private owners with less; but we will make it a most magnificent affair. In the Campus Martius we are going to make polling-barriers of marble for the tribal assemblies, roof them over, and surround them with a lofty colonnade a mile in circumference. And at the same time we shall join this to the Villa Publica. You will ask “What advantage shall I derive from the work?” But we need not go into that now. That is all the public news. For I don’t suppose you will want to hear about the lustration which is given up in despair, or about the trials which are taking place in accordance with the Coctian law.

... So now, to give you my opinion on affairs, we have got to put up with them. You want to know how I behaved. With firmness and boldness. You will ask how Pompey took things. Quite kindly, evidently thinking he must consider my dignity until satisfaction had been paid to me. How did Gabinius come to be acquitted then? It was simply a puppet show: the behaviour of the accusers—that is to say of L. Lentulus, the younger, who is being universally accused of collusion—was incredibly infantile: Pompey exerted his influence energetically: and the jury were a rotten lot. Still 32 voted for condemnation and 38 for acquittal. Other trials are hanging over his head: he is not out of the wood yet. You will say: “How then do you take it?” Quite coolly, upon my word, and I congratulate myself thereon. The State, my dear Pomponius, has lost not only its sap and blood,

329but even all its old colour and outward semblance. There is in fact no Republic to give one a feeling of joy and peace. “And is that what you find so comfortable?” you may ask. That is the very thing. For I remember its glory during the little while when I directed it, and the return that was paid me. It does not cost me a pang to see one man omnipotent: but those who were annoyed at my small power are bursting with indignation. There are many things which bring consolation to me without my stirring from my original position; and I am returning to the life which suits my nature best, to literature and my studies. For the labour of pleading I console myself by my delight in oratory. I find pleasure in my town house and my country houses. I think not of the height from which I have fallen, but of the depths from which I have risen. If I have but my brother and you with me, they may be hanged drawn and quartered for all I care: I can study philosophy with you. That part of my soul which used to harbour wrath has lost its power of feeling. Now only my private and personal affairs interest me. You will find me in a wonderfully peaceful state of mind, and upon my word your return is a great factor in my peace: for there is no one in the world whose spirit so harmonizes with my own.

But now I will tell you the other news. Things are drifting towards an interregnum: and a dictatorship is in the air. There is a great deal of talk about it, which helped Gabinius with timid jurors. All the candidates for the consulship are accused of bribery. Gabinius is with them too. P. Sulla applied for the prosecution of him, suspecting that he would be too out of pocket to bribe a jury. Torquatus applied too

331but did not obtain it. But they will all be acquitted, and in future no one will be condemned except for homicide. That charge is being severely dealt with and so informers are busy. M. Fulvius Nobilior has been condemned: and a number of others are polite enough not even to answer the charge.

Any other news? Yes. An hour after the acquittal of Gabinius another jury in indignation condemned some one called Antiochus Gabinius, out of Sopolis’ studio, a freedman and attendant of Gabinius, under the Papian law. He at once said “So the State will not acquit me of treason as it did you.”^[159]

Pomptinus wants to celebrate his triumph on the 2nd of November. He is openly opposed by the praetors Cato and Servilius and the tribune Q. Mucius, who declare that no authority was ever given for a triumph: and it certainly was given in the most absurd manner. However Pomptinus will have the consul Appius on his side. Cato declares he shall never triumph as long as he lives. I fancy it will all come to nothing like most similar affairs. Appius is thinking of going to Cilicia without authority and at his own expense.

On the 24th of October I received a letter from my brother Quintus and from Caesar, dated from the nearest point on the coast of Britain on the 25th of September. Britain is settled, hostages taken, no booty, but a tribute imposed; and they are bringing back the army from the place. Q. Pilius was just on his way to Caesar. If you have any affection for me and your family, if any trust can be put in your word, nay, if you have any sense and want to enjoy your

333blessings, you ought to be on your way home and very close at hand too. Upon my word, I cannot endure your absence. And what wonder that I want you, when I miss Dionysius so much? Him both I and little Marcus shall demand from you at the proper time. The last letter I had from you was posted from Ephesus on the 9th of August.

How I have longed for this letter! And how glad I am to hear of your arrival! You have kept your promise with marvellous exactitude and fidelity. What a charming voyage! Of that I was really very much afraid, remembering the fur-coats of your former crossing. But, unless I am mistaken, I shall see you earlier than you say. I fancy you think your ladies are still in Apulia. That is not the case, so there will be nothing to keep you there. You surely wont throw days away on Vestorius and have another taste of his Latin Greek after all this interval. Fly hither rather, and visit the remains of what was once our genuine Republic. I have discussed the open bribery of the people tribe by tribe before the elections, and the consequent acquittal of Gabinius. Things are tending to a dictatorship, what with the deadlock and the general licence. Observe my placidity and praise my contempt for the Seleucinian province,^[164] and my really delightful association with Caesar. That is the one plank left in this shipwreck to delight my eyes. Heavens! how he does load

335your and my Quintus with honours and dignities and favours! Just as though I were a commander-in-chief. The choice of any of the army winter-quarters has just been given him, as Quintus writes me. If one does not fall in love with such a man, which of the others could one fall in love with?

By the bye, had I told you I am on Pompey’s staff, and from the 13th of January shall not be in Rome? It seemed to me to square with a good many things. I need not say more. I think I will leave the rest till we meet to give you something to look forward to. My best respects to Dionysius. I have not merely kept a place for him; I have built one. In fact his coming will add a finishing stroke to the great joy I shall find in your return. The day you arrive, I must insist on you and your company staying with me.

339expense, there were no signs of it. So passed that day. On the next day we started from Arpinum. A festival caused Quintus to stop at Arcanum, while I went on to Aquinum: but we lunched together at Arcanum. You know his place there. Well, when we reached it, Quintus said most politely, “Pomponia, you invite the ladies, I will ask the men.” Nothing, so far as I could see, could have been more gentle than his words or his intention or his expression. But before us all she answered “I’m only a stranger here”; just because Statius had been sent on in front to get dinner ready for us, I suppose. Says Quintus to me: “There you are. That’s what I have to put up with every day.” You may say there surely was not much in that. But there was a good deal: indeed she upset me myself; she answered with such uncalled for acrimony in word and look. I concealed my annoyance. We all took our places except her: but Quintus sent her something from the table, which she refused. In a word, it seemed to me that my brother was as good-tempered and your sister as cross as could be, and I have omitted a lot of things that aroused my wrath more than Quintus’. Then I went on to Aquinum. Quintus stayed at Arcanum, and came to me the next morning, and told me that she would not sleep with him and, when she was leaving, she was as cross as when I saw her. In fact, I don’t care if you tell her herself, that to my mind she behaved with a lack of courtesy that day.

I have said perhaps more than necessary about it to show you that it is your turn to do a little instructing and advising too. It only remains for you to fulfil all my commissions before you start, and send me an account of all of them, to rout Pomptinus out,

341and, when you have left, to let me know, believing that there is nothing I hold dearer than yourself, nothing that gives me more delight. I bade that good fellow, A. Torquatus, a most affectionate farewell at Menturnae. I should like you to tell him I mentioned him in a letter.

On the 10th of May, the date of this letter, I set out from my villa at Pompeii, to spend the day with Pontius in his villa at Trebula. Thereafter I mean to do my day’s journey regularly without delay. While I was in my villa at Cumae, our friend Hortensius paid me a very welcome visit. He asked if I had any commissions, and I gave him commissions in general, and in particular to prevent to the best of his ability extension of my term of office in my province. Please keep him up to it, and tell him that I was much gratified at his visit, and at his promises on that particular point and of any other assistance I might need. I have bound our friend Furnius, who, I see, will be tribune next year, to help me in the same matter. My villa at Cumae was a miniature Rome; there were such a lot of people in the neighbourhood. In the middle of it all our friend Rufio, seeing that Vestorius was on his tracks, baffled the man by a ruse; for he did not come to me. You may be surprised that he did not come, seeing that Hortensius came, who is ill, lives afar off and is a great man, and crowds of other people came as well. I repeat he did not come. You may infer I did not see him. How could I fail to see him when I travelled

343through the market of Puteoli? He was busy about something there I fancy, when I greeted him. On a subsequent occasion, I bade him a brief good-bye, when he came out of his villa and asked if I had any commands. Is one to reckon such a man ungrateful, or does he not rather deserve praise for not striving to get audience? But I return to my former point.

Pray don’t imagine that I have any consolation for this tremendous nuisance beyond a hope that my office will not outlast a year. A number of people do not believe in this wish of mine, judging me by others. You, who know my mind, will please use every effort, I mean when the time comes for action, on your return from Epirus. Please write me on state politics, and tell me any secrets you may scent out. For at present we have no sufficient news as to how Caesar takes the recorded opinion of the Senate on his case, and there was a report too that the Transpadani were ordered to create a board of four municipal officers.^[167] If that is the case, I fear great disturbance: but I shall learn some news from Pompey.

On the 10th of May I came to Pontius’ villa at Trebula. There two letters from you were delivered to me on the third day after leaving your hands. On that same day, as I was quitting my place at Pompeii,

345I gave Philotimus a letter to you: nor have I at present any news. I beg you write me what reports there are on the political situation. In the country towns I notice there is much panic: but a great deal is nonsense. Please let me know your opinion about this and the date of the impending crisis. I do not know to which of your letters you ask for a reply. I have received no letter so far, except the two which were handed me together at my villa in Trebula. One of these contained the edict of P. Lentulus, and was dated the 7th of May: the other was a reply to my letter from Menturnae. I fear there may have been some matter more important in a letter I did not receive, to which you ask for a reply. I will put you in Lentulus’ good graces.

Dionysius is my bosom friend. Your Nicanor does me excellent service. I have no more to say, and day is breaking. I think of going to Beneventum to-day. My continence and diligence shall satisfy....

From the house of Pontius at Trebula, May 11.

I reached Beneventum on the 11th of May. There I received the note which you said in your last letter had been despatched. I answered that letter on the day I received it from Pontius’ villa at Trebula. And indeed two letters of yours reached me at Beneventum, one of them handed to me by Funisulanus in the early morning, and the other by my secretary Tullius. I am very grateful to you for your trouble about my first and most important commission. But your departure from Rome lessens my

347hope. As regards the man you mention, I am slipping into your view, not that——but for want of a better we are compelled to be satisfied with him. As for the other man who, you say, appears a not unlikely candidate, I fear my daughter could not be persuaded, and, as you add, there is not a pin to choose between them. For myself I am reasonable; but you will be away, and will any account be taken of me in my absence? For, if either of us were on the spot, a good face might be put on the matter with Servius through the agency of Servilia. Now, even if it were a thing I favoured, I see no way of bringing it to pass.

Now I come to that letter which I received from Tullius. You have been very energetic about Marcellus: so, if a decree should be passed, please inform me: but, if not, try to carry the matter through: a grant ought to be made to me and to Bibulus. But I am confident that the decree will be passed especially as it saves the people’s pocket. That is fine about Torquatus. As for Maso and Ligur, we can wait till they come. As to Chaerippus’ request, since you have given me no tip on the matter——hang the province! Must I trouble about him too? Well, I must take enough trouble to prevent any debate on the matter or count out in the House. As for others——however you do well to have spoken with Scrofa. As to Pomptinus you are right. It comes to this, if Pomptinus will be at Brundisium before June, M. Anneius and L. Tullius need not hurry out of Rome. As to your news from Sicinius, I am satisfied, provided this restriction does not apply to anyone who has obliged me. But I will think it over, as the plan pleases me. I will let you know

349what course I have determined to adopt as regards my route, and also as to Pompey’s policy about the five prefects,^[171] when I have heard from him. As for Oppius you have done well to explain to him the matter of the £7,000.^[172] Please arrange the business since Philotimus is with you. Examine the account and, to go further in my request, if you love me, settle the debt before you leave town. You will relieve me of great anxiety.

I have replied to all your points. But your want of paper I had almost forgotten. It is my loss, if for lack of it your letter is shorter. Take a couple of hundred sheets,^[173] though the shortness of this page betokens my stinginess in paper. In return I look for information and gossip and any certain news of Caesar. You will write a letter to Pomptinus, as well as others, about everything.

I have absolutely nothing to write about. Having forgotten nothing I have no commission for you. Having no news, I have nothing to relate. And this is no place for jests considering the number of my cares. Still you must know that I despatched this letter setting out from Venusia on the morning of the 15th of May. I believe something has been done in the Senate to-day. So send a letter after

351me, giving not only all the facts but the gossip too. I shall get it at Brundisium. For it is there that I intend to await Pomptinus up to the date that you have mentioned. I will write you of the causeries I had with Pompey at Tarentum about politics. Although there is one thing I want to know, up to what time I can safely write to you at Rome, that is how long you will be in town, so that I may have your address after your removal and may not send letters in vain. Before you go, settle the business of the £180 and the £7,000.^[174] Please count it most important and most necessary, that with your help I may achieve, what I began to wish for at your instance.

I came to Tarentum on the 18th of May. As I had decided to await Pomptinus, I thought it most convenient to spend the days before his arrival with Pompey, the more so because I saw it pleased him. Indeed he begged me to see him and to be at his house every day; and I am glad to give him my company. I shall have some grand conversations with him about the political situation, and shall get useful advice on this business of mine.

I am beginning to send you shorter letters, as I do not know whether you are in Rome, or have now started on your journey. However, so long as I am ignorant of your whereabouts, I will write you a line rather than run the risk of not sending you a letter, when a letter from me can reach you. I have no commission for you and nothing to say. I have given

353you all my commissions, and please execute them as you promise. I will send you any fresh news, when I have it. One matter I shall not cease to request so long as I think you are in town,—that you will leave my debt to Caesar settled. I await eagerly a letter from you, especially that I may know the date of your leaving Rome.

Daily, or rather more and more every day, I send you shorter letters: for daily I suspect more than ever that you have started for Epirus. However, to inform you that I have taken in hand your previous commission:—Pompey says that he will appoint five new prefects, exempting them from serving on juries. For myself, after spending three days with Pompey at his house, I am setting out for Brundisium on the 20th of May. I am leaving behind me a noble citizen, well-prepared to ward off the dangers we fear. I shall await your letters to inform me of your actions and whereabouts.

Tiresome indisposition, from which I have recovered, as there was no fever with my ailment, and also my awaiting Pomptinus, of whom so far no news has reached me, have detained me now twelve days at Brundisium: but I am looking for an opportunity to sail. I scarcely imagine that you are in town; but, if you are, please give your closest attention to

355the following. I have received a letter from Rome, saying that my friend Milo writes complaining of ill-treatment from me, for allowing Philotimus to have a hand in the purchase of his property. I acted on the advice of C. Duronius, a man whom I saw to be most friendly to Milo, and just such a person as you suppose him to be. His plan and mine was this, firstly, to keep a hold over Milo’s property for fear some hard bargainer, a stranger to us, should rob him of his slaves, of whom a great number were with him; and secondly, that the settlement he intended to make on Fausta should be respected. There was the further intention, that we ourselves should have the readiest means of saving anything that could be saved. Now please review the whole matter, for letters to me often exaggerate. If Milo complains and writes to his friends, and, if Fausta wishes, as I told Philotimus and as he agreed, I would not have him purchase the property against Milo’s wish. Nothing would compensate for offending Milo. You will judge if the matter has been exaggerated. Please consult Duronius. I have written also to Camillus and to Lamia, among other reasons because I do not feel sure you are in town. To sum up, in deciding be careful of my honour, reputation and interests.

I reached Actium on the 14th of June, after feasting like an alderman both at Corcyra and the Sybota islands, thanks to your gifts which Araus and my good friend Eutychides heaped on me with lavish

357kindness. From Actium I preferred to travel by land, in view of the wretched passage we had and the danger of rounding Leucatas. It did not seem to me quite dignified to go ashore at Patrae in small boats without my baggage. I will really take care to fulfil this unusual office of mine with all propriety and honesty, as you have often urged me, nothing loth; and daily I bethink me of your advice and impress it on my staff. Please God the Parthians keep quiet and fortune favour me, I will answer for myself.

I beg that you will let me know what you are doing, your movements from time to time, how you left my business at Rome, particularly in the matter of the £180 and the £7,000. Please do this in a letter carefully addressed to reach me anyhow. You are away at this present moment of inaction, but you have promised me to be in town for the occasion, and remember to use your best endeavours and to employ all my friends, especially Hortensius, that my year of office may conclude without any extension. This commission should perhaps be accompanied by a request for you to fight that no extra days may be added to the calendar: but I hardly like to give you all this trouble. Anyhow insist on the year.

My son, a boy of charming manners, sends greetings to you. I have always liked Dionysius as you know, but I make more of him every day, especially because he is your admirer, and lets slip no chance of mentioning you.

I came to Athens on the 25th of June, and I have waited three days for Pomptinus, but have heard nothing certain of his coming. Believe me, you are with me all the time, and, though it did not need associations to turn my thoughts towards you, still I was reminded of you more than ever by treading in your footsteps. Indeed we talk of nothing else but you; but perhaps you prefer to have news about myself. So far no public body or private person has spent money on me or on my staff. I have not even taken the barest necessities allowed by the law of Julius, nor have I billeted myself on anyone. My staff have made up their minds that they must uphold my good name. So far everything has gone well: the Greeks have noted it and are full of outspoken praise. For the rest I am endeavouring to act as I know you would like. But let us reserve our praise for the end of the story. In other respects I often blame my mistake in not having found some method of escape from this flood of affairs. The business is little suited to my tastes. It is a true saying, “Cobbler, stick to your last.”^[175] You will say: “What, already? You have not yet begun your work.” Too true, and I fear worse is to come. I put up with things with cheerful brow and smiling face; but I suffer in my heart of hearts. There is so much ill temper and insolence, such stupid folly of every kind, such arrogant talk and such sullen silence to be put up with every day. I pass over this, not because I wish to conceal it, but

361because to explain is difficult. You shall marvel at my self-restraint, when I return home safe. I have so much practice in the virtue.

Enough of this topic too. Though indeed I have nothing to make me write to you at all, because I have no idea of what you are doing or where you are, and I have never been so long ignorant about my own concerns—as to what has been done about the debt to Caesar and Milo’s money matters: and there has come no messenger from Rome much less from my house to inform me of political affairs. So, if you have information you may think I should like to know, I shall be delighted if you will take care to send it to me.

I have only one thing to add. Athens pleases me greatly, that is the material city, its embellishments, your popularity and the kind feeling shown to me: but its philosophy is topsy-turvy, that is, if it is represented by Aristus with whom I am staying: for I gave up Xeno your friend and mine to Quintus. Still we are close neighbours and meet every day. Please write me as soon as possible of your plans, and tell me what you are doing, where you are from time to time, and especially when you will be in town.

What, write so often to Rome, and never a line to you! Well, in future, rather than do such a thing as not to write a letter that can reach you safely, I will despatch a letter that may go astray. In the name of heaven, while you are in town, take every possible precaution against the term of my office

363being extended. I cannot describe how ardently I long for town, how hard I find it to bear the stupidity of life here.

Marcellus acted disgracefully over the man from Comum:^[177] even if he had not been a magistrate, still he was a Transpadane. So Marcellus’ action seems to me as likely to anger Pompey as Caesar; but that is his own look-out. I agree with Varro’s statement, which you quote in your letter, that Pompey will surely go to Spain. I by no means approve of the policy, and indeed I convinced Theophanes easily that Pompey’s presence in Rome was the very best course. So the Greek will put pressure on Pompey; and his opinion weighs with him a great deal.

I despatch this letter on the 6th of July, being about to leave Athens, where I have stayed just ten days. Pomptinus has come along with Cn. Volusius. My quaestor is here. Your friend Tullius is the one absentee. I have some open boats of Rhodes and two-deckers from Mitylene and a few despatch boats. There is no news of the Parthians. For the rest, God help us.

So far our journey through Greece has provoked great admiration, and I have no fault at all to find with my staff at present. They seem to understand what my case is, and the terms on which they stand. They do everything to maintain my good name. For the rest, if the saying be true, “Like master, like man,”^[178] assuredly they will stick to their good behaviour,

365for they will see no excuse for misconduct in any act of mine. If example be futile, I must try severer means. So far I have been mild and kind, and I hope I am making headway. But I have looked forward to playing patience, as the Sicilians say, for one year only. So fight for me, for fear extension of office might spoil my conduct.

To return to the commissions you have given me. Prefects have exemption from serving on a jury. Give the office to whom you will. I shall not be so difficile, as I was in the case of Appuleius. I am as fond of Xeno as you are, and I am sure he knows it. I have put you in well-deserved favour with Patro and the other blockheads. Ister has told me you have written to him that you learned from Patro’s letter I was taking an interest in the point, much to his delight. But when Patro urged me to ask your Areopagus to cancel the minute they had made when Polycharmus was praetor, it seemed better to Xeno and afterwards to Patro himself that I should send a letter to Memmius, who had set out to Mitylenae the day before I arrived at Athens, asking him to inform his agents that the minute could be cancelled with his free consent. For Xeno was sure the Areopagus would refuse to act against his will. Memmius had abandoned his plan of building a house; but he was angry with Patro. I enclose a copy of the careful letter I wrote him.

Please convey my condolences to Pilia. I will tell you a secret you are not to repeat to her: I received the parcel containing her letter, took it out, opened and read it. It was written in terms of sympathy for Quintus. Please consider the letters you got from Brundisium without one from me as having

367been despatched when I was indisposed. I won’t ask you to accept the lazy man’s stock excuse, my business. Take great care to keep me well posted up in news, and still greater care to preserve your health.

A sea voyage is a big business, especially in the month of July. Six days after leaving Athens I came to Delos. On the 6th of July I got from the Piraeus to Zoster with a contrary wind which kept us there on the 7th. On the 8th we reached Ceos in fine weather. From there we came to Gyaros, with a wind strong, but not contrary: thence to Syros, and from Syros to Delos; in both cases sailing quicker than we could have wished. You know by this time what the open boats of Rhodes are like, poor things in a rough sea. So I have made up my mind not to hurry and not to stir from Delos until I see “all the peaks of Gyrae” clear.

I sent you a letter about Messalla at once from Gyaros as soon as I heard, and another on my own initiative to Hortensius, for I felt much sympathy with him. I await a letter from you to give me the gossip about the verdict and about the political situation, dealing, if I may say so, more with public topics, since now, with the aid of Thallumetus, you are running through my books. I don’t want a letter to tell me what is actually happening, for that tiresome fellow your client Helonius can do that: but I want to know what is likely to happen.

By the time you read this, consuls will have been

369elected. You will be able to have clear views about Caesar and Pompey and the trials themselves. And please arrange my affairs, since you are staying in town. Oh, I forgot to answer one question about the brickwork: as to the aqueduct, without entering into particulars, please be as kind as you always are, if anything can be done. To the last item, my own views as well as your letters lead me to attach very great importance: so please get it done. Furthermore, if the contractor puts you any questions, please act as you would in your own case. I will write a longer letter, when I am on dry land. At present I am far out at sea.

I reached Ephesus on the 22nd of July, the five hundred and sixtieth day after the battle of Bovillae.^[180] The voyage caused me no alarm and no sickness, but was slow owing to the crankiness of the open boats. I imagine you have heard about the crowd of legations and of private suitors and about the astonishing number of people who met me even at Samos, and even more noticeably at Ephesus; or you may say it does not interest you. Still the tax-collectors thrust themselves on my notice as though I had come with an army behind me, and the Greeks as if I were governor of Asia. You will see that the professions of my life are now being put to the test. I hope I shall employ the training I have learned from you and satisfy everybody, the more easily because in my province the contracts have been settled. But

371enough of this, especially as Cestius has interrupted my dinner with news that he is starting to-night.

I attended to your little jobs at Ephesus and although before my arrival Thermus had given the most lavish promises to all your people, still I introduced Philogenes and Seius to him, and recommended Xeno of Apollonis. He undertook to do everything. In addition I submitted to Philogenes an account of the sum I got from you by negotiating a bill of exchange. So enough of this too.

I return to town affairs. Since you are staying in Rome, in heaven’s name, do support and establish my plea to be let off with one year of office without additions to the calendar. Execute all my commissions; particularly get over that hitch in my private affairs of which you are aware, and over the business with Caesar. It was you who led me to try to pay my debt, and I am glad. If you understand my penchant to know and trouble about what is happening in public life, or rather what is going to happen, write to me in full and with accuracy, especially whether there is any break-down at all in the trials that have been held or are going to be held. If you are interested about the aqueduct, and if the contractor is at work, please give it your attention.

You must not expect long letters from me nor always letters in my own handwriting, till I have settled down somewhere. When I have time, I will guarantee both. I am now engaged on a hot and dusty journey. I wrote yesterday from Ephesus; to-day

373I write from Tralles. I expect to be in my province on the 1st of August. Let that day, if you love me, be notched^[181] as the first of my year of office. Meantime the following welcome news has reached me, that the Parthians are at peace; secondly that the contracts with the tax-farmers have been settled, and lastly that Appius has quelled a mutiny of his soldiers and paid them up to the 15th of July.

Asia has given me an astonishing welcome. My coming has cost no one a penny. I trust that my staff are cherishing my good name. I am very nervous: but I hope for the best. All of them have joined me except your friend Tullius. I intend to go straight to my army, to devote the remaining summer months to military matters, and the winter to judicial business.

As you know that I am as interested as you in political business, please write to me everything that is happening and is likely to happen. You can do me no greater service, except the greatest service of all, which is to carry out my commissions, particularly that household matter with which you know I am greatly concerned. This letter is full of dust and hurry: others shall be more in detail.

I reached Laodicea on the 31st of July. So notch that day as the beginning of my year of office. My arrival has been looked forward to with desire and longing.

375You would never believe how sick I am of the business and I cannot find sufficient scope for the wide interests and energy you know I possess, and do nothing noticeable. To think that I hold court in Laodicea, while A. Plotius does so at Rome, and that I have the nominal command of two skeleton legions, while Caesar has a huge army! However, it is not these advantages I miss: it is the world, the Forum, the city, my home and you. I will bear as best I can a year of office: an extension would kill me. Still we may combat that very easily if only you are at Rome.

You ask what I am doing. Upon my life I am spending a fortune. I am marvellously pleased with the rule of conduct I have formed: and you have taught me to be so admirably self restrained that I fear I may have to borrow to pay off the money I took from you. I avoid opening the wounds which Appius has inflicted on the province: but they are patent and cannot be hidden. I travel from Laodicea on the 3rd of August, the date of this letter, to the camp in Lycaonia. Thence I intend to go to Taurus, so that I may settle the matter of your slave, if possible, by pitched battle with Moeragenes.

I can endure; but, for heaven’s sake, let it be only for a year. You must be in town at the proper time to stir up every member of the House. I am marvellously anxious, because it is so long since I have had news: so, as I wrote before, give me news of political matters as well as other things. I will write more fully. [This letter I know] will be a long time in reaching you: but I am giving it to a trusty and intimate friend, C. Andronicus of

377Puteoli. You, however, will be able to get the contractors for the pasture-dues and harbour-duties of my districts to send yours by the tax-gatherers’ messengers.

Though the tax-farmers’ messengers are actually on their road and I am travelling, still I think I must snatch a moment for fear you may imagine I have forgotten your commission. So I sit down on the high road to scribble you a summary of what really calls for a long epistle. You must know that my arrival in this province, which is in a state of lasting ruin and desolation, was expected eagerly. I got here on the 31st of July. I stayed three days at Laodicea, three at Apamea, and as many at Synnas.^[183] Everywhere I heard the same tale. People could not pay the poll-tax: they were forced to sell out their investments: groans and lamentations in the towns, and awful conduct of one who is some kind of savage beast rather than a man. All the people are, as you may suppose, tired of life. However, the poor towns are relieved that they have had to spend nothing on me, my legates, or a quaestor, or anyone. For you must know that I not only refused to accept pay, or what is a proper perquisite under the Julian law, but that none of us will take firewood or anything beyond four beds and a roof; and in many places we do not accept even a roof, but remain mostly under canvas. So extraordinary

379throngs of people have come to meet me from farms and villages and every homestead. Upon my word my very coming seems to revive them. Your friend Cicero has won all hearts by his justice and self-restraint and kind bearing. When Appius heard of my arrival, he betook himself to the extreme border of the province, right up by Tarsus. There he holds court. There is no news of the Parthians, but chance arrivals report that they have cut up our cavalry. Even now Bibulus is not thinking of coming to his province: people say because he desires to be late in departing from it. I am hurrying into camp, which is two days’ journey away.

I got a bundle of letters from Rome without one from you. Supposing you are well and in town, I imagine the fault was Philotimus’ and not yours. This letter is dictated as I sit in my carriage on my road to the camp, from which I am distant two days’ journey. In a few days’ time I have trusty messengers: so I reserve myself for that time. I should like you to hear the news from others; but I can’t help saying that I am conducting myself in the province with such restraint that not a halfpenny is spent on any of us. For that I have to thank the conduct of the legates, tribunes and praetors. For all of them take a surprising pride in maintaining my good name. Our friend Lepta is wonderful. I am in a hurry now, and will write everything in a few days’ time. The younger Deiotarus, who was styled king by the Senate, has taken the two boys to his court. So long

381as I am in my summer camp, I fancied that would be the best place for them.

Sestius wrote me an account of his conversation with you about my pressing domestic affairs, and of your opinion. Please devote yourself to the business and write to me what can be done and what you think. Sestius told me that Hortensius has said something or other about extending my term of office. He undertook at Cumae to take good care that it should not outlast a year. If you have any regard for me, get that point fixed up squarely. I cannot describe my dislike to being away from you. Moreover I hope that my justice and restraint may become more famous, if I leave soon: for it was so in the case of Scaevola, who governed Asia only nine months.

On seeing that I was about to arrive, our friend Appius left Laodicea and went up to Tarsus. I am not offended at the slight he has done me by holding court while I am in the province, for I have enough business to heal the wounds that he has inflicted on it: and I try to do this with as little reflection on him as possible. But please tell our friend Brutus, that his father-in-law has not acted well in going away as far as he could on my arrival.

If you don’t happen to be in town, I wish to goodness you were. I have no positive news beyond your letter dated the 19th of July, in which you said you were going to Epirus about the 1st of August. But whether you are at Rome or in Epirus, the Parthians have crossed the Euphrates under the leadership of

383Pacorus, a son of the Parthian king Orodes, with nearly all their forces. There is no news of the presence of Bibulus in Syria: Cassius is in the town of Antioch with his whole army. I am in Cappadocia near the Taurus with my army close to Cybistra. The enemy is in Cyrrhestica, a district of Syria adjoining my province. I have sent a despatch to the Senate on the situation. If you are in Rome, please look at the despatch and say whether you think it ought to be delivered: and so for my other affairs, chief of which is lest there be, as the saying goes, any slip between the cup and the lip,^[184] I mean that I may not be burdened with an extension of office. Considering the weakness of my army, my want of allies, especially faithful allies, my most sure support is the winter weather. If winter comes and the enemy have not first crossed into my province, I am afraid the Senate may refuse to let Pompey leave Rome owing to fear of disturbance at home. But if it sends some one else by spring, I don’t care, provided that there be no extension of my term of office. Those are my commissions, if you are in town. If you are out of town, or even if you are not, the situation is this. I am in excellent spirits; and I hope, as my plans are well laid, that I am not too sanguine about my preparations. I have pitched camp in a safe spot, well supplied on the score of corn, almost within sight of Cilicia, convenient for change of quarters, with an army small but, I hope, very loyal to me, which will be doubled by the arrival of Deiotarus with all his forces. I have found our allies far more loyal than any of my predecessors have found them. They cannot understand my mildness and self-abnegation. A levy is

385being held of Roman citizens: corn is being brought from the country into safe strongholds. Should occasion arise, I should defend myself by force, but otherwise I shall depend on my position. So be of good cheer. You are always in my mind’s eye. and I understand your affectionate sympathy as if you were standing here. But I beseech you, if it can be arranged and supposing that my case is not debated in the House up to the first of January, to be in Rome during that month. I shall be treated fairly, if you are there. The consuls are my friends; Furnius the tribune of the people is devoted to me: but I want you with your ingratiating and skilful persistence. It is a critical time. But it would be a shame for me to press you further.

My son and nephew are staying with Deiotarus. If necessary, they shall be sent to Rhodes. If you are in Rome, send me a message with your usual regularity. And even if you are in Epirus, send me one of your messengers, that you may know my proceedings, and I may know your present and future plans. I am managing your friend Brutus’ business better than he could himself. But I now hand my ward^[185] over to the creditors and refuse to set up any plea for him. They are an impracticable and impecunious lot. However I shall satisfy you, which is more difficult even than satisfying Brutus. Indeed I will satisfy you both.

I had already sealed the letter, which I fancy you must have just read, written in my own handwriting and containing a full account of events, when suddenly your letter was delivered to me on September 20th by a letter carrier of Apelles, who had done a journey express from Rome in forty-seven days. Ah, what a long way it is! It makes me sure that you awaited Pompey’s return from Ariminum, and have now set out for Epirus, and I fear from your tone, that you may be in as great straits in Epirus as I am here.

I have written to my wife’s steward not to dun Messalla for the money due from Atilius. I am delighted you have heard reports of my official progress, and I shall be still more delighted if you hear of my other good deeds. I am glad that you are pleased with your little daughter. I have never seen her, but I love her and I am sure she is lovable. Good-bye, again good-bye.

Talking of Patro and your friends of his school, I am glad you liked my efforts about the ruins in Melita. It is a sign of great affection on your part, to rejoice in the defeat of a man^[187] who opposed the uncle of your sister’s son. You have put it into my head to rejoice too. It had not occurred to me. You need not believe me, if you like: but really I

389am glad, because righteous indignation is different from malice.

On the morning of the 17th of December the Pindenissitae surrendered to me, on the fifty-seventh day from the commencement of my siege. “The Pindenissitae!” you will exclaim, “Who the deuce are they? I never heard the name.” That is not my fault. Could I turn Cilicia into Aetolia or Macedonia? Take this for granted that with my army and in my position such a big business was impossible. Here is a synopsis of the affair. You agreed to that in your last letter. You are aware of my arrival at Ephesus, for you have congratulated me on the reception I got on the day of arrival, which delighted me beyond words. Thence, after a marvellous welcome in the towns on my way, I reached Laodicea on the 31st of July. I stayed there two days in great state and with nattering speeches took the sting out of all past injuries. I did the same at Colossae and during a stay of five days at Apamea, three at Synnada, five at Philomelus and ten at Iconium. Nothing could be more fair, lenient or dignified than my legal decisions. From there I came to camp on the 24th of August. On the 28th I reviewed the army at Iconium. On receipt of grave news about the Parthians I left camp for Cilicia travelling through that part of Cappadocia which borders on Cilicia, intending that the Armenian Artavasdes and the Parthians themselves should realize they were cut off from entering Cappadocia. After camping five

391days at Cybistra in Cappadocia, I got information that the Parthians were far distant from that entrance into Cappadocia, and rather were threatening Cilicia. So I made a forced march into Cilicia by the gates of Taurus. I reached Tarsus on the 5th of October. Thence I hurried to Amanus, which divides Syria from Cilicia by its watershed, a mountain that has always been full of our enemies. Here on the 13th of October we cut up a large body of the enemy. I captured some strongly fortified posts by a night assault of Pomptinus and a day assault of my own: and we burned them. I was hailed as “General.” For a few days I pitched camp at the very spot near Issus, where Alexander had camped against Darius. He was rather a better general than you or I. We plundered and devastated Amanus, and after a stay of five days took our departure. Meantime (for you know there are such words as “panic” and “the uncertainties of war”) report of my arrival gave heart to Cassius, who was shut up in Antioch, and it inspired fear in the Parthians. So, as the Parthians retreated from the town, Cassius pursued them and scored a success. In their retreat one of their leaders, Osaces, a man of high rank, was wounded and died a few days afterwards. I was in high favour in Syria. Meantime Bibulus came. I fancy he wanted to be my peer in the matter of that empty title. On this same mountain Amanus he begins his task of looking for a needle in a bottle of hay.^[188] But the whole of his first squadron was lost as well as Asinius Dento, a centurion of the first line and of noble

393blood,^[189] and other centurions of the same squadron, and a military tribune. Sex. Lucilius son of T. Gavius Caepio, who has wealth and position. It was really a mortifying reverse and inopportune. I was at Pindenissus, the most strongly fortified town in Eleutherocilicia and engaged in war so long as men can remember. The inhabitants were keen warriors, thoroughly prepared to withstand a siege. We compassed it with a stockade and ditch, with big entrenchments, penthouses, a tall tower, a large supply of artillery and a number of archers. With much toil and preparation I settled the business without loss of life, though many were wounded. I am keeping a festive holiday, as also are my soldiers, to whom I gave all the spoils except the horses. The captives were sold on the third day of the festival of Saturn.^[190] At the time of writing, the sum realized at the auction has reached about £100,000.^[191] I am giving my army to my brother Quintus to take into winter quarters in the more disturbed part of the province, while I am returning myself to Laodicea.

So much for that. To recur to old topics. As for the point of your exhortation, which is more important than anything else about which you are concerned—that I may satisfy even my carping Ligurian critic^[192]—may I die, if conduct could be more fastidious than mine. I am not going to talk of continence, a quality

395connoting resistance of pleasure: for nothing in my life has given me more pleasure than this rectitude. And it is not so much the enhancement of my reputation, though that is important, as the exercise of the virtue that delights me. I can tell you my exile has been worth while, for I did not understand myself nor realize of what I was capable in this line. I may well be puffed up. It is splendid. Meantime I have made a coup in this: it is thanks to me that Ariobarzanes lives and reigns a king. In my progress through the province I have saved a king and a kingdom by the weight of my advice and official position and by refusing to entertain even the visits much less the bribes of conspirators against him. Meantime from Cappadocia not the value of a hair. I stirred up Brutus out of his dejection as much as I could. I love him as well as you do. I had almost said as well as I do you. And I hope that during the whole of my year of office there will not be a penny’s expense in my province.

That is the whole story. I am now preparing to send an official despatch to Rome. It will be richer in detail than if I had sent it from Amanus. But fancy your not being in town! Everything hangs on what happens on the 1st of March, for I fear, when the question of the provinces is under debate, that I may be kept here, if Caesar refuses to give up his province. Were you there to take part in the matter, I should have no fears.

To revert to city news, with which I was put in touch only on the 26th of December from your delightful letter. It was the letter which your freedman Philogenes brought to me with scrupulous care after a long and risky journey; for I have not received

397the letter which you say was entrusted to the slaves of Laenius. It was glad tidings that you wrote me about Caesar and the decree of the House and your own hopes. If Caesar falls in with this, I shall be safe from any extension of office. I am not much concerned that Seius was singed in Plaetorius’ fire.^[193] I want to know why Lucceius was so keen about Q. Cassias and what has happened.

I am commissioned to celebrate the coming of age of Quintus, your sister’s son, on arrival at Laodicea. I shall keep a careful hold upon him. Deiotarus, who has been of great help to me, has written that he will come to me at Laodicea with the two boys. I am awaiting another letter from you from Epirus, that I may have an account not only of your work-a-day life, but of your holiday life. Nicanor is doing his duty by me, and is being well treated. I think I shall send him to Rome with my official despatch, that it may be promptly delivered and at the same time that he may bring me certain news about you and from you. I am pleased that Alexis so often sends greetings to me; but why cannot he put them in a letter of his own, as Tiro, who is my Alexis, does for you. I am searching for a horn for Phemius.^[194] But enough now. Keep your health and let me know when you intend to go to town. Good-bye, again good-bye.

I have been at pains to recommend your interests and your people to Thermus, both personally at Ephesus and now by letter, and I have gathered that he is very solicitous on your behalf. Please execute

399my former commissions to look after Pammenes’ house, so that the boy may not be robbed of what he owes to your kindness and mine. This I think will redound to our honour and will please me much.

I am very glad that you have reached Epirus safely, and that you report a voyage to your liking. But I am rather upset that you are absent from Rome at a moment so critical for me. However I have one consolation: I hope you will have a pleasant winter where you are and a nice rest. You ask me the purport of a letter that C. Cassius, the brother of Q. Cassius, your friend, sent me. The letter he wrote is more modest than a subsequent epistle in which he claimed to have ended the Parthian war. The Parthians to be sure had retired from Antioch before the arrival of Bibulus: but it was not thanks to any coup de main of our troops. To-day the enemy is wintering in Cyrrhestica and a serious war is imminent: for the son of Orodes the king of the Parthians is in a Roman province, and Deiotarus, to whose son the daughter of Artavasdes is betrothed, a very competent authority, is positive that the king himself will cross the Euphrates with all his forces in the early summer. On the very day on which Cassius’ despatch, dated the 7th of October, announcing victory was read in the Senate, came mine announcing trouble. My friend Axius says that Cassius’ despatch gained no belief and mine was considered worthy of attention. Bibulus’ despatch had not yet arrived: but I know for a fact that it will express alarm.

401This makes me fear that the Senate may pay no respect to Caesar’s demands, refusing to let Pompey quit Rome, when revolution is imminent. Until this trouble is unravelled, it may decline to allow me to leave the province before my successor comes, and not be willing to entrust such important provinces in troublous times to legates. So I shudder to think that the term of my office may be extended without even any tribune being able to veto it; and the more so on account of your absence, when you might interfere in many cases with your advice, influence and efforts. You will say I am raising imaginary alarms. I am forced to hope that my alarms may be idle, but everything frightens me. Though your letter written at Buthrotum in sickness had a charming finale. “As I see and hope, there will be nothing to hinder your departure,” still I should prefer the phrase “as I see” and there was no need for the words “and hope.” I have received a letter dated just after the triumph of Lentulus, which was brought post haste to Iconium by the tax-farmers’ messengers. In it you repeat that bitter-sweet saying, that there will be no delay, with a postscript, that, if anything goes wrong, you yourself will come to me. I am tortured by the doubts you express: and you may see which of your letters I have received, for I have not got the letter which you say was handed to Hermo the centurion’s orderly. You have repeatedly told me you entrusted a letter to the slaves of Laenius. That letter, which was dated the 21st of September, was handed to me at last by Laenius on my arrival at Laodicea on the 11th of February. I will show Laenius at once in word and in the future in deed that your recommendation carries weight. Besides old topics the letter had

403one fresh one, the panthers from Cibyra. I am indebted to you for telling M. Octavius that you thought it would be impracticable. But in future give a direct “no” to any undesirable requests. Firm fixed in my own determination and fired by the weight of your opinion, I have overcome everybody as you will find by my justice, self-abnegation and easy courtesy. People were never more astonished than to learn that not a farthing has been spent during my tenure of office, either on public objects or on any of my staff, except on my legate L. Tullius. He has behaved well on the whole, but under the Julian law on one occasion en passage and for the day’s needs, and not as others would at every hamlet, he did take something. He is the sole offender; and forces me to add a rider to my remark that not a farthing has been spent upon us. Besides him no one has taken a penny. That blot I owe to my friend Q. Titinius.

When the camp was struck at the end of the summer, I put my brother Quintus in charge of the winter camp and of Cilicia. Q. Volusius, son-in-law of your friend Tiberius, a safe man and wonderfully unselfish, I have sent to Cyprus, ordering him to stay a few days, that the few Roman citizens in business there may not say they have no facilities for legal process: the inhabitants cannot be summoned to a court outside the island. I myself set out for Asia from Tarsus on the fifth of January. I cannot describe how the cities in Cilicia and especially the people of Tarsus looked up to me. After crossing the Taurus, I found Asia, that is so far as my district extends, very keen to welcome me. For during the six months of my administration, there had been no requisitions and

405not a single case of billeting. Before my time this season had been devoted every year to the pursuit of gain. The richer states used to pay large sums to escape from having soldiers billeted on them for the winter. The people of Cyprus used to pay nearly £50,000,^[196] while under my administration, in literal truth, not a penny will be demanded. I will take no honours except speechifying in return for these kindnesses which have so amazed people. I allow neither statues, nor shrines, nor sculptured chariots: and I don’t annoy the states in any other respects—but perhaps I may annoy you by my egotism. Bear with it from your regard for me. It was you who wished me to act as I have. My tour through Asia was such that even the crowning misery of famine, which existed in my province owing to the failure of the crops, gave me a welcome opportunity. Wherever I went, without force, without legal process, without hard words, by my personal influence and exhortations, I induced Greeks and Roman citizens, who had stored corn, to promise a large quantity to the communities. On the 13th of February, the date on which I despatch this letter, I have arranged to try cases from Cibyra and Apamea at Laodicea; from the 15th of March, from Synnada, Pamphylia (when I will look out for a horn for Phemius), Lycaonia and Isaurum at the same place. After the 15th of May, I set out to spend June in Cilicia: I hope without being troubled by the Parthians. July, if things turn out as I hope, is to be spent on my journey back through the province. I entered the province at Laodicea during the consulship of Sulpicius and Marcellus on the 31st of

407July. I ought to quit it on the 30th of July. First, however, I must ask my brother Quintus to be good enough to take charge, which will be against the grain with us both. But it will be the only fair course, especially since even now I cannot keep that excellent fellow Pomptinus; for Postumius is dragging him back to town, and perhaps Mrs Postumius too.

Those are my plans. Now let me tell you about Brutus. Among his intimates your friend Brutus has some creditors of the people of Salamis in Cyprus, M. Scaptius and P. Matinius, whom he recommended to me warmly. Matinius I have not met: Scaptius came to see me in camp. For the sake of Brutus I promised that the people of Salamis should settle their debts to him. The fellow thanked me, and asked for the post of prefect. I informed him I always refused business men, as I have told you. This rule Cn. Pompeius accepted when he made a similar request. So did Torquatus, M. Laenius, and many others. However, I told Scaptius that if he wanted the post on account of his bond, I would see that he got paid. He thanked me and took his leave. Our friend Appius had given him some squadrons to put pressure on the people of Salamis, and had also given him the office of prefect. He was causing trouble to the people of Salamis. I gave orders that his cavalry should leave the island. That annoyed him. In short, to keep faith with him, I ordered the people, when they came along with Scaptius to see me at Tarsus, to pay the money. They had a good deal to say about the bond, and about the harm that Scaptius had done them. I refused to listen. I prayed and besought them to

409settle the business in consideration of the good that I had done their state. Finally, I threatened to compel them. So far from refusing to settle, the people said that really they would be paying out of my pocket, in the sense that I had refused to take the present usually given to the governor, which they admitted would be more than the amount they owed to Scaptius. I praised their attitude. “Very well,” said Scaptius; “but let us reckon up the total.” Now in my traditionary edict^[197] I had fixed the rate of interest at 12 per cent compound interest, reckoned by the year. But Scaptius demanded 48 per cent in accordance with the terms of the bond. I declared that I could not break the rule laid down in my edict. But he produced a decree of the Senate, made in the consulship of Lentulus and Philippus,^[198] ordering that the governor of Cilicia should give judgement according to the bond. At first I was horror stricken, for it spelled ruin to the community. I find there are two decrees of the Senate in the same year about this identical bond. When the people of Salamis wanted to raise a loan in town to pay off another, they were obstructed by a law of Gabinius which forbade lending to provincials. Then these intimates of Brutus, depending on his support, professed willingness to lend at 48 per cent, if they were protected by a decree of the Senate. Brutus induced the Senate to make a decree that the transaction between the people of Salamis and the money-lenders should be exempted from the provisions of the law. They paid down the money. Afterwards it came into the heads of the

411money-lenders that the decree would be futile, because Gabinius’ law forbade any legal process on the bond. Then the Senate passed a decree that the bond should be good at law, giving this bond the same validity as other bonds and nothing more. When I pointed this out, Scaptius took me aside. He said that he had no objection to my ruling; but that the people of Salamis imagined they owed him nearly £50,000. That he wanted to get that sum, but that they owed rather less. He begged me to induce them to fix it at that amount. “Very well,” said I. I sent Scaptius away, and summoned the people and asked them the amount of the debt. They replied something over £25,000. I consulted Scaptius again. He was loud in his protests. I said that the only plan was for them to check their accounts. They sat down and made out the account. It agreed to a penny with their statement. They wanted to pay, and begged him to receive the money. Again Scaptius led me aside, and asked me to let the matter stand over. The request was impertinent, but I consented. I would not listen to the complaints of the Greeks and their demand to deposit the sum in the temple treasury. The bystanders all declared that the conduct of Scaptius was outrageous in refusing 12 per cent with compound interest. Others said he was a fool. He seemed to me to be more of a knave than a fool: for either he was not content with 12 per cent on good security, or he hoped for 48 per cent on very doubtful security.

There is my case. If Brutus does not approve, there is no reason why I should be friendly with him. Certainly his uncle will approve, especially since a decree of the Senate has been passed (after you left

413Rome, I think) in the matter of money-lenders, that 12 per cent simple interest shall be the rate. The difference between the two totals you will already have arrived at, if I do not belie your skill as a ready-reckoner. Apropos of this, by the way, L. Lucceius, son of Marcus, writes me a petulant letter that there is great danger of a general repudiation of debts resulting from these decrees. He recalls the harm that C. Julius did once when he allowed a little postponement of the day of payment: public credit never received a worse blow. But to return to my point. Think over my case against Brutus, if it is a case, when there are no fair arguments on the other side, especially as I have left the matter as it stood.

To wind up with family matters. As to my boudoir business, I agree with you in preferring Postumia’s son,^[201] since Pontidia is playing the fool. But I wish you were there. You must expect no letters from Quintus at this season. The snows prevent passage of the Taurus until June. I am supporting Thermus, as you request, by frequent letters. As for P. Valerius, Deiotarus says that he has nothing and is his pensioner. When you know whether there are to be additions to the calendar at Rome or not, please write me positive news as to the date of the Mysteries. I look forward to your letters rather less eagerly than if you were in town; still I do look forward to them.

417life and cannot bear to see it being fed up by me. Sometimes he is angry, sometimes he thanks me; for no act of mine has reflected on his policy. It is only the difference of my regime that annoys him. There is a very wide difference between a province worn out by expense and losses under his rule and not having to pay a penny out of private or public purse under my administration. I need not mention his prefects, his staff and his legates, the acts of robbery, of rape and insult. But now, upon my word, no private house is managed with such judgement or such economy, or is so well ordered as my whole province. Some friends of Appius put an absurd construction on my policy and declare that I am seeking popularity to damage him, and am acting honourably, not for the sake of my own reputation, but to cause him shame. However, if Appius, as the letter from Brutus which you forward to me shows, expresses his thanks, I am content: but the very day on which I write this letter before dawn I am thinking of annulling many of his wrong enactments and decisions.

I come now to the matter of Brutus. On your advice I zealously cultivated his friendship, I had even begun to feel a real liking for him: but there I pull myself up for fear I should vex you. For do not imagine that there is anything I should prefer better than to execute his commission, or anything on which I have taken more pains. He gave me a volume of commissions, and you spoke to me about his affairs. I have done my best with all of them; first of all I induced Ariobarzanes to pay him the money he promised me. So long as his highness was with me the business was on a good footing: but later the king was dunned by scores of agents from

419Pompey. Pompey has more influence than anyone for many reasons and because it is rumoured that he will come to conduct the war against the Parthians. Even to him however payment is made on the following terms. On every thirtieth day some £8,000 is paid and that by tribute imposed on the king’s subjects. Even such a sum will not cover the amount of monthly interest. However our friend Gnaeus is an easy-going creditor. He is willing to forgo his capital and is content with interest, and that not in full. The king pays no one else and has no means to pay. He has no treasury and no regular tribute: he levies taxes on the method of Appius. They are scarcely sufficient to pay the interest on Pompey’s money. His highness has two or three very wealthy friends, but they look after their own pockets as well as you or I. Still I do not cease to write dunning, coaxing and scolding his highness. Deiotarus too has told me that he has sent messengers to him about his debt to Brutus: and they came back with the reply that he has no assets. I can quite believe it, for I have never seen a kingdom more plundered or a king more needy. So I am thinking of resigning my guardianship, or, as Scaevola did for Glabrio, of repudiating both capital and interest. However I have conferred the office of prefect, which I promised Brutus through you, on M. Scaptius and L. Gavius, who are his agents in the kingdom; for they were not conducting their business in my province. You will remember that my principle was that he might have as many offices of prefect at his disposal as he liked, provided he did not give them to business men: so I offered him

421two others besides. But the gentlemen for whom he asked them had left my province.

Now to talk about the people of Salamis, a matter which I see came as a surprise to you as it did to me. Brutus never told me that that money was his. Indeed I have his own memorandum stating “The people of Salamis owe money to M. Scaptius and P. Matinius, my friends.” He recommends these gentlemen to me, and to spur me adds a postscript that he has gone security to them for a large sum. I had arranged that they should pay in compound interest for six years at 12 percent. But Scaptius demanded 48 per cent, I was afraid, if he got his request, that you too would cease to be my friend, for I should have departed from the terms of my own edict, and have ruined utterly a state enjoying the protection of Cato and Brutus himself and distinguished by my attentions. At this very point Scaptius thrusts a letter of Brutus into my hand, stating what Brutus had never told me or you, that Brutus himself was the party concerned, and asking me to give the office of prefect to his agent. But that was the very proviso I had authorized you to make, that no office could be given to a business man, above all to such a fellow as Scaptius. For he had been a prefect of Appius, and indeed had had some squadrons of cavalry, which he had used to beset the Senate at Salamis in their own chamber, so that five Members of the House died of starvation. Accordingly on the day I reached the province, since an embassy from Cyprus had already met me at Ephesus, I sent orders that his cavalry should leave the island at once. This, I fancy, had led Scaptius to write somewhat bitterly about me to Brutus. However, my attitude

423is this. If Brutus thinks that I ought to have allowed 48 per cent, when throughout my province I have recognized only 12 per cent, and have fixed this rate in my edict, with the approval of the most grasping usurers; if he complains of my refusal to give office to a business man, which I made also to our friend Torquatus in the case of your acquaintance Laenius, and to Pompey himself in the case of Sex. Statius, without annoying either of them; if he is angry at the disbanding of his cavalry, well I shall be sorry that he is angry with me, but I shall be far sorrier at discovering he is not the man I imagined he was. Scaptius will admit that he had the opportunity of getting by my decision all the money allowed by my edict. I will add a point which I fear you may not like, the interest allowed by my edict ought to have ceased to run.^[203] The people of Salamis wished to deposit the sum in a temple; but I begged them not to raise the point. They gave way to me: but what will happen to them if Brutus’ brother-in-law, Paulus, comes here? I allowed Brutus all this privilege: and he has written very kind letters about me to you; but to me, even when he asks a favour, he writes in an arrogant, bold tone and uncivilly. Please write to Brutus about the matter, that I may know how he takes it. You can inform me.

To be sure, I had given you the full story in a former letter: but I wanted you to understand clearly that I had not forgotten a remark in one of your letters, that if I took nothing else away from this province except Brutus’ good-will, that would be enough. Be it as you wish, provided it can be so

425without loss of honour to me. So I have given judgement that the payment of the people of Salamis to Scaptius is good at law. The equity of this course I will leave to your consideration. I will not even appeal to Cato: but don’t think I have let slip your exhortations. They are fixed in my heart. With tears in your eyes, you told me to think of my reputation. Is there any letter of yours which does not touch on the topic? So let who will be angry. I can put up with it. “The right is on my side,” especially since I have bound myself to good conduct, with six volumes^[204] for bail. I am glad you like the books so much, though there is one point of history which you question, that about Cn. Flavius, the son of Annius. He did not flourish before the days of the decemviri, since he held a curule aedileship, which was instituted long after their time. What good then did he do by publishing the official calendar? It is thought that at one time the calendar was not exposed in public, so that a privileged few might be the sole source of information as to days propitious for business. Moreover, several authorities maintain that this Cn. Flavius was the first man to publish the calendar and to draw up a digest of the forms of legal procedure. So don’t think that I, or rather my spokesman Africanus, invented a fiction. You took my remark about the actor’s mannerism, and suspected a satirical meaning:^[205] but I wrote in all naïveté. You tell me that Philotimus wrote to you about my being hailed imperator; but I fancy that, now you are in Epirus, you have got my two letters about the business, one from Pindenissus after its capture, another from Laodicea, both

427delivered to your slaves. For fear of accidents at sea, I sent the public despatch on my campaign to Rome in duplicate by different carriers.

As to my daughter Tullia I agree with you, and I have written to her and her mother giving my consent. For a former letter of yours to me said “I could wish you had returned to your old associates.” There was no occasion to alter the letter that came from Memmius: for I much prefer to accept this candidate from Pontidia than the other from Servilia. So get our friend Saufeius to help you in this business. He always liked me, and now I trust he will like me all the more, since he is bound to have inherited his brother Appius’ liking for me along with the rest of his inheritance, and Appius often expressed great affection for me, especially in the trial of Bursa. Indeed you will relieve me of a source of great anxiety.

I do not like Furnius’ proviso; there is nothing else I fear, except the point which he makes his sole proviso.^[206] I would write to you more fully on the point, if you were in Rome. I am not surprised that you depend entirely on Pompey for keeping the peace. That is quite right, and I think you must delete your phrase “insincere.” If the order of my paragraphs is muddled, you have yourself to blame, as I am following your own harum-scarum way.

My son and nephew are fond of one another, learn their lessons and take their exercise together: but to quote Isocrates’ remark about Ephorus and Theopompus, one wants the rein and the other the spur.

429I intend to celebrate Quintus’ coming of age^[207] on the feast of Bacchus.^[208] His father asked me to do this, and I shall act on the assumption that there will be no addition to the calendar. Dionysius is in my good graces: but the boys say he is liable to mad fits of temper. However one could not get a master of more learning and better character and more liking for you and me. The praise you hear of Thermus and Silius is deserved: they conduct themselves in very honourable fashion. You may praise M. Nonius, Bibulus, and myself too, if you like. I only wish Scrofa had scope for his tact. He is a fine fellow. The rest do little credit to Cato’s caucus. I am much obliged to you for recommending my case to Hortensius. As to Amianus Dionysius says there is no help. I have met with no trace of Terentius. Moeragenes has certainly been killed. I made a tour through his district and found not a living thing. I did not know this, when I spoke to your agent Democritus. I have ordered the Rhosian ware for you. But what the deuce will you serve up in porcelain, when you are accustomed to give us vegetarian fare on fern-pattern plates and in magnificent baskets? I have ordered a horn for Phemius, and one will be got. I only hope that his tune will be worthy of the instrument.

A war with the Parthians is imminent. Cassius’ despatch was futile, Bibulus’ has not yet come. I think the reading of it will stir the House to action at last. I am very anxious myself. If, as I hope, my tenure of office is not extended, I have June and July

431to fear. Very good. Bibulus can check them for two months, but what will happen to the man whom I leave behind, especially if he be my brother? Or what will be my own fate, if I do not depart so speedily? It is a great bother. However Deiotarus has decided to join my camp in full force. He has thirty squadrons of four hundred men each armed in our fashion, and two thousand cavalry. He can hold out till Pompey comes. A letter he writes to me presumes that he will conduct the campaign. The Parthians spend the winter in a Roman province. Orodes is expected in person. You may take my word it is a big business.

As to Bibulus’ edict there is no new feature, except that proviso of which you wrote “it is a very grave reflection on our order.”^[209] However I have a similar proviso, in more circumspect language, borrowed from the Asiatic edict of Q. Mucius, son of Publius, “Provided that the agreement is not such as contravenes equity.” I have followed Scaevola in many details, among them in the stipulation which the Greeks hold as the salvation of their freedom, that Greek cases are to be settled according to Greek law. The edict is short on account of the division I have made, as I considered it fell better under two heads. The one concerns provincial matters and deals with town accounts, debt, the rate of interest, contracts, and includes all matters referring to the tax-collectors. The second head, embracing matters which cannot properly be settled without an

433edict, deals with inheritance, ownership and sale, the appointment of official receivers, matters where suits are wont to be brought and settled in accordance with the terms of an edict. A third head dealing with the rest of judicial procedure I left unwritten. I stated that in such matters my decrees would be based on those of Rome. I observe this rule, and so far satisfy everybody. The Greeks are jubilant at having foreign jurors. You may say that the jurors are wasters: however the Greeks flatter themselves that they have got home rule, and your own jurors are men of the lofty standing of Turpio the shoe maker and Vettius the broker.

You ask how I am dealing with the tax-gatherers. I pet them, indulge them, praise and honour them: and take care they trouble no one. It is very odd that the rates of interest specified in their bonds were upheld even by Servilius. My procedure is this. I name a day fairly remote, before which, if the debtors pay up, I lay down that I shall allow only 12 per cent. But, if they have not paid, judgement will be according to the bond. Accordingly the Greeks pay their debts at a fair rate of interest, and the farmers are gratified, provided they get their fill of compliments and invitations. In short, they are all so intimate with me that each man thinks himself my special favourite. But still you know the old saw.^[210]

As to the statue of Africanus (what a medley of topics! but that was the delightful feature of your letter, to my mind), do you really mean that Metellus Scipio does not know his great-grandfather

435was never censor? Certainly the statue which has lately been placed on high near the temple of Ops has only the inscription COS. But the statue near the Hercules of Polycles bears the inscription CENS.: and the pose, the dress, the ring and the likeness prove that it is a statue of the same person. As a matter of fact, when among the crowd of gilded knights placed by Metellus on the Capitol, I noticed a likeness of Africanus with the name Serapio on the pedestal, I thought it was a workman’s error, but now I see it is Metellus’ mistake. What gross ignorance of history! For that misconception about Flavius and the calendar, if it is such, is widely held: and you were quite right in having doubts about it. I have followed the view which is almost universal, as Greek authors often do. Every one says that Eupolis, the poet of the old Comedy, was thrown into the sea by Alcibiades on his voyage to Sicily. Eratosthenes confutes this, producing plays exhibited by him after that date. But that is no reason for laughing at Duris of Samos, who is an accurate historian, because he follows a vulgar error. All historians agree that Zaleucus drew up laws for the Locrians. It is not therefore fatal to Theophrastus, if he is called to account for that by your friend Timaeus. But not to know that one’s great-grandfather was not censor is shocking, especially as after his consulship no Cornelius was censor during his lifetime.

As for your remarks about Philotimus and the payment of £182,000,^[213] I hear that Philotimus came to the Chersonese about the beginning of January, but so far I have heard nothing from him. Camillus writes that he has received my balance. I don’t know how

437much it is, and I should like to know. However, we can discuss this later and more conveniently when we meet.

That remark at the end of your letter, my dear Atticus, upset me. You used the phrase, “What more is there to say,” and follow it by a most affectionate warning not to forget to be on the watch and to keep an eye on events. Have you heard anything about any of my staff? I am sure there has been no wrong-doing, pas du tout. It could not have escaped my notice, and it will not. But your earnest entreaty seemed to hint something.

As for M. Octavius, I repeat that your reply was excellent. I could wish it had been in more positive terms. For Caelius has sent me a freedman of his and a carefully worded letter about panthers and an offer from the townships to furnish contributions. I replied that the second item is annoying, if my conduct is still a secret and the news has not reached town that in my province no money is exacted except in satisfaction of debts: and I have told him that it would be improper for me to allow payment and for him to take it. I have a sincere regard for him and have warned him that after his prosecution of other people he should conduct himself on more careful lines. As to the second point I have told him it would be a blot on my escutcheon that the people of Cibyra should have a public hunt during my governorship.

Lepta leaps with joy over your letter: for it was nicely written and puts me in his good graces. Your tiny daughter has done me a favour in ordering you earnestly to send me her greetings. It was kind of Pilia and very dutiful of your daughter to send greetings to one whom as yet she has never met. So please

439give my greetings to both of them in return. The date of your letter, the last day of December, reminded me pleasantly of the famous and unforgotten oath I took.^[214] I was a Pompey in state robes that day. There you have my answer to all your points: not as you asked “gold for copper,” but like for like.

There was another short letter which I will not leave unanswered. Lucceius to be sure was able to do something for the villa at Tusculum, unless perhaps there was the old obstacle of the flute player^[215]; and I should like to know its condition. Our friend Lentulus I hear has advertised all his property except that at Tusculum. I should like to see these gentlemen free from debt as well as Sestius and you may add Caelius too. To all of them one may apply the quotation, “ashamed to refuse, but yet afraid to take.” I suppose you have heard of Curio’s idea to recall Memmius. As for the debt due from Egnatius of Sidicinum, I have some hope, but not much. Deiotarus is taking very great care of Pinarius, whom you recommended to me, in a serious illness. So there is my answer to your little letter.

While I am at Laodicea, which will be up to the 15th of May, please correspond with me as often as possible, and on your arrival at Athens at any rate send me letter carriers, since by that time we shall know what has been done in town and about the provinces, of which the affairs are settled in March. By the bye have you yet got Herodes to wring from Caesar that £12,000? I hear you have excited the animosity of Pompey in the matter. He thinks that

441you have snapped up money which was his, and that it will not lessen Caesar’s energy in building a palace near the sacred grove of Diana. This bit of news came to me from P. Vedius, a shady character, but an intimate of Pompey. The fellow met me on the road with two chariots, a carriage and horses and a litter and a large following. If Curio carries his law,^[216] he will have to pay £l apiece. Besides other things, there was a dog-faced baboon in a chariot, and some wild asses. I never met such a rascal. But listen to the end of the story, At Laodicea Vedius put up with Pompeius Vindullus, and left his belongings with him, while he came to meet me. Meantime Vindullus died, and his property is supposed to go to Pompeius Magnus. C. Vennonius went to the house and, while sealing all the goods, found Vedius’ baggage. Among this baggage there were five little busts of Roman married ladies, among them one of the sister of your friend Brutus—a brute indeed to be acquainted with the fellow—and one of the wife of Lepidus, whose easy conduct agrees with the meaning of his name. I wanted to tell you this little tale en passant, for we are both nice gossips.

There is one thing I wish you to consider. I hear that Appius is putting up a porch at Eleusis. Shall I look a fool, if I do so in the Academy? I dare say you may think so: say so plainly, if you do. I am very fond of the city of Athens. I should like it to have some memorial of myself. I dislike lying titles on the statues of other folk. But as you think best. And please let me know the date of the

443mysteries at Rome, and how you are passing the winter. Keep well. I write this on the seven hundred and sixty-fifth day after the battle of Leuctra.^[217]

Your freedman Philogenes has come to visit me at Laodicea and tells me that he is on the point of sailing to join you: so I give him this letter in reply to your letter which I got from Brutus’ letter-carrier. First I will answer your last page which caused me much concern:—that is about Cincius’ communication on the talk he had with Statius. I was particularly concerned at Statius’ remark that the plan had my approval. Approval indeed! I need only say thus much. I wish the ties of friendship to be as many and close as possible between us, though none can be so close as those of our common liking. I am far from wanting the tie between us to be relaxed. Quintus however to my knowledge will often use bitter language on his private affairs, and often I have pacified his anger, as I think you know. On my late tour or military campaign I have seen him often fly in a temper and often calm again. I don’t know what he wrote to Statius; whatever he meant to do, he ought not to have informed a freedman. However I will do my best to prevent any course contrary to our wishes and to propriety. In a case like this it is not enough for a man to make himself responsible for his own conduct only: and

445indeed the principal share of responsibility attaches to the boy, or young man as he is now, Quintus. This I am always telling him. To me he seems to love his mother greatly, as he should, and to be extremely fond of you. He is a lad of high but complex character, and I have enough to do to guide his conduct.

Having devoted my first page to answering your last, I will now return to your first. I relied on the maps of Dicaearchus, a writer of no mean standing and an authority you accept, for the information that all the states of the Peloponnese bordered on the sea. In the account of the cave of Trophonius, which he puts into the mouth of Chaeron, he blames the Greeks on many scores for sticking to the sea coast; and he does not except a single district in the Peloponnese. He was a very accurate historian and lived in the Peloponnese, so that his evidence seemed trustworthy. Still I was surprised and communicated my doubts to Dionysius. Dionysius was startled at first, but finally accepted his authority, since he had as good an opinion of Dicaearchus as you have of C. Vestorius or I of M. Cluvius. Arcadia he agreed had a seaport Lepreon: but Tenea, Aliphera and Tritia were, he considered, more modern, a view he supported by the omission of these places from Homer’s catalogue of the ships. Accordingly I borrowed the passage from Dicaearchus in so many words. I know that Phliasii is the proper form. Please make it so in your copy. I read it in mine. But first of all thinking of Phlious I was misled by a vicious analogy of Opuntii from Opous and Sipuntii from Sipous. But I altered it at once.

I see that you are pleased at my unselfish moderation.

447You would be more pleased, if you were here. In this very assize which I have been holding at Laodicea from the 13th of February to the 1st of May for all the districts except Cilicia, I have done wonders. See how many states have been freed from debt and how many have had their burden lightened. All have revived on acquiring home rule, and using their own enactments in law. I have given them in two ways the chance of freeing themselves or relieving themselves from debt. First by causing them no expense during my administration (and in saying no expense I mean literally not one farthing), which has helped them astonishingly out of their trouble. Secondly the states had suffered from surprising corruption in their own countrymen, that is to say their magistrates. I questioned the men who had held the office of magistrate during the last ten years. They concealed nothing. So without exposure they took on their own backs the repayment of the money: and the communities which had paid the tax-farmers nothing for the present five years have now without any complaints paid up arrears for the last five years too. So I am the apple of their eye to the tax-farmers. “Grateful fellows,” you exclaim. Yes I have experienced their gratitude. The rest of my judicial conduct has been enlightened, but mild and marvellously courteous. There has been none of the difficulty of access so characteristic of provincial governors; and no backstairs jobbery. Before daybreak I walk up and down in my house, as I did of yore when a candidate for office. This is popular and a great boon, and I have not felt it a burden owing to my old training.

On the 15th of May I intend to go to Cilicia.

449After spending the month of June there (and I pray it may be in peace, for a serious war with the Parthians is certainly coming), July I shall spend on my journey home. I shall have served my year on July the 30th. I have great hopes that my tenure of office may not be extended. I have the city gazette up to the 7th of March. I gather that, thanks to the persistence of my friend Curio, appointments to the province will be the last business to be considered. So, as I hope, I shall see you soon.

I come now to Brutus, your friend or rather mine, since you prefer it. I have done everything that I could accomplish in my own province or attempt in the kingdom of Cappadocia. I have taken every measure with the king and still do so daily—by letter. The king himself was in my company only for three or four days and at a crisis in his affairs, from which I released him. But both then in person and subsequently in repeated letters I have continually begged and besought him in my own name and advised and persuaded him in his own interest. My efforts have borne fruit: but how much at this distance I cannot tell for certain. The people of Salamis however, whom I could influence, I have induced to consent to settle all their debt with Scaptius, but with interest at 12 per cent calculated from the date of the last contract, and not at simple but compound interest. The money was counted down: but Scaptius refused to take it. What kind of a figure do you cut, who say that Brutus will make a sacrifice? Forty-eight per cent was written in the bond. It was an impossible sum. It could not be paid nor could I have permitted it. I hear after all that

451Scaptius is sorry. As to his argument from a decree of the Senate ordering judgement to be given according to the bond, the reason for that was that in borrowing the money the people of Salamis contravened the law of Gabinius. Aulus’ law forbade that judgement should be given for money so borrowed. So the Senate decreed that judgement might be given on that particular bond. Now the bond in question has the same validity as other bonds, and no special privilege. I fancy Brutus will admit that my behaviour has been proper. I do not know if you will take that view, but certainly Cato will.

Now I come back to yourself. My dear friend, you have praised the nice honour of my conduct “and can you dare with your own mouth,” as Ennius says, ask me to give Scaptius cavalry to collect his debts? Or would you, if you were here,—you who say that you chafe sometimes at not being with me,—would you suffer me to do such a thing, if I wanted? “Not more than fifty men,” you say. Spartacus had fewer men than that at first. The blackguards would have done indescribable damage in such a weak island. Do you say, they would have refrained? Look at the damage they did before I came here. They kept the members of the local Senate prisoners in their Chamber for so long that some died of hunger. For Scaptius was a prefect of Appius, and was allowed some cavalry. Your face is always before my eyes, when I think of duty and honour, and can you, you, I repeat, ask me to give the fellow the office of prefect? I had settled in other cases never to give the office to a man of business, a course which had won the approval of Brutus: and is a fellow like Scaptius to have cavalry? Why should he not be content with a

453company of foot? He is beginning to live in spendthrift style. The leading people of Salamis insist, he declares. Of course; that is why they came to me and with tears told me of his men’s atrocities and their own miseries. Accordingly I sent a letter at once ordering the cavalry to quit Cyprus by a certain day, and that, as well as other acts of mine, has caused the people of Salamis to praise me to the skies in their decrees. There is no need of cavalry now, for the people are ready to pay,—unless perhaps I want to use force to make them pay 48 per cent interest. Were I to do such a thing, I could never venture to read or touch those volumes which you praise. You, my dear fellow, have had far too much regard for Brutus in the matter. I perhaps not enough. I have informed Brutus of the drift of your letter. Now for the remaining topics.

I am pleased to do all I can for Appius here consistently with my honour. I do not dislike him and I like Brutus: and Pompey, for whom I have a higher regard every day, is surprisingly importunate. You have heard that C. Caelius comes here as quaestor. I don’t know why, but I don’t like that affair of Pammenes. I hope to be at Athens in the month of September. Please let me know the dates of your travels. I understood the naïveté of Sempronius Rufus from your letter written in Corcyra. I am really quite jealous of the influence Of Vestorius.

I should like to keep on chatting, but day dawns, the crowd is pressing in and Philogenes is in a hurry. Good-bye, give my greetings to Pilia, when you write, and to your daughter: and accept greetings from my son.

Though I have no fresh news, since I handed a letter for you to your freedman Philogenes, still I must write you a line, since I am sending Philotimus back to Rome. First a thing which gives me much anxiety—not that you can help me at all—for the business is in hand, and you are far away in a foreign land

The days steal on, as you see (for I am due to leave my province on the 30th of July), and no successor is appointed. Whom can I leave in charge? Policy and public opinion point to my brother: first because it is right that he should have the honour by preference to anyone else, and secondly because he is the only officer of praetorian rank that I have: for Pomptinus, who came out on that condition, has left me already according to his agreement. My quaestor is notoriously unsuitable; he is “unsteady, wanton and lightfingered.” There is one objection to my brother’s appointment,—he will probably refuse, as he hates provincial life. Certes, it is a hateful bore. Then, supposing he does not like to refuse, what is my proper course? Seeing that a great war is likely in Syria, which will apparently break forth into this district, where there is no protection and only the ordinary supplies have been voted for the year, it would certainly seem unnatural to leave my brother, and careless to leave some nincompoop. As you see I am troubled greatly and badly want advice. In short I

457made a mistake over the whole matter. Your sphere is far preferable. You can depart at pleasure; and perhaps you have left already. You can put Thesprotia and Chaonia^[218] in charge of anyone you like. I have not yet met my brother to know whether he would consent, if I want him to take it over; nor, should he consent, am I settled in my plans. So much for that.

The rest so far is full of honour and glory and worthy of the volumes which you praise. Communities have found salvation, the whole body of tax-collectors has been satisfied, no one has been annoyed by ill-considered conduct, very few by the severity of upright justice—none so that he could dare complain—and a campaign has been conducted in a way that deserves a triumph, though I shall not seek it greedily, nor seek it at all without your advice. The conclusion is difficult in the matter of handing over the province. But some god will direct my course.

About doings in town of course you know more, as your information comes more frequently and more surely. I am sorry that you do not pass on your news in a letter, for tiresome tidings have reached me about Curio and Paulus, not that there would seem anything to fear, if Pompey keeps his influence or even his inactivity. Only let him recover his health. But I am annoyed for Curio and Paulus, my friends. So, if you are now in town, or when you are there, please send me a sketch of the political situation to meet me on my way, that I may mould my conduct upon it and bethink me of the proper spirit in which to approach Rome. It is something not to arrive as a foreigner and a stranger. There was one point I nearly omitted. As I have said often, I have

459done everything for your friend Brutus. The people of Cyprus were paying down the money. Scaptius was not content with 12 per cent compound interest. Ariobarzanes is not more accommodating to Pompey for his own sake than to Brutus for mine. Still I could not go bail for him, for he is a very needy monarch and I was such a long way off that I could only press him on paper, as I did continually. The conclusion is this. In proportion to the sum lent, Brutus has been treated more liberally than Pompey: for Brutus there has been got this year about £24,400. To Pompey has been promised £48,800 within six months. In the business of Appius, my concessions to Brutus are almost incalculable. I have no reason to distress myself. Brutus’ friends are men of straw, Matinius, and Scaptius, who is perhaps angry because he could not get troops to harry Cyprus as he had done before my time, or because he was not made a prefect, an office I have not granted to any man of business, not to C. Vennonius, my friend, nor to your friend M. Laenius. I have persevered in the course that I told you at Rome I should keep: but a man who refused to take his money, when he could, cannot grumble. The other Scaptius who was in Cappadocia I think is satisfied. First of all he accepted a military tribuneship from me, which a letter from Brutus had persuaded me to offer him; but he wrote me afterwards that he did not want to take it up.

There is a person Gavius, who, after I had offered him a post as prefect at Brutus’ request, said and did a good deal to disparage me. He is Clodius’ puppydog. He did not condescend to be one of my escort when I left Apamea, nor, when he came into camp later and was leaving it, did he ask if I had any commissions. For some unknown reason he was an

461open enemy of mine. If I had counted such a fellow among my prefects, you might doubt what kind of creature I am. You know I will not brook discourtesy from men of power, and should I put up with it from this hanger-on? Though, to be sure, gracious bestowal of honour is something more than putting up with a man. So Gavius, when on his road to Rome he saw me lately at Apamea, addressed me as I should scarcely address Culleolus. “Where,” said he, “am I to look for my pickings?” I answered less sternly than those present thought proper, that I was not accustomed to give pickings to men whose services I had not used. He went off in a temper. If Brutus listens to the talk of such a shady customer, you may have him to yourself. I shall not be your rival. But I think he will behave all right. However I wanted you to know the circumstances, and I have recounted the matter very fully to Brutus. Between ourselves Brutus has never sent me a letter, not even lately about Appius, without a touch of arrogance and intolerance. You often quote the lines,

However in this business he excites my laughter rather than my rage, and evidently he does not consider sufficiently what he writes and to whom.

The young Quintus, I fancy, yes I am sure, read your letter addressed to his father, for he usually opens his father’s letters—and that by my advice—in case there is anything he ought to know. The letter contained that same passage about your sister that you wrote to me. The boy was awfully upset. He

463came to me complaining in tears. I saw much good feeling in him, and a kind and courteous disposition, which increases my hope for a satisfactory issue to the matter: so I want you to know it.

There is one thing I must not pass over. The young Hortensius, during the gladiatorial exhibition at Laodicea, behaved in a shameful and scandalous way. For his father’s sake I invited him to my table on the day of his arrival, and for the same father’s sake treated him handsomely.^[219] He said that he would await my departure in Athens, that we might go home together. I could only say, “Very well.” But I don’t fancy at all that he meant what he said. I hope not, lest I offend his father, who is my very good friend. But if he comes in my suite, I will arrange so as to avoid offence to a man I don’t want to offend.

So much for that, there is one thing more. Please send me Q. Celer’s speech against M. Servilius. Write to me at your first opportunity. If there is no news, write to say so, or even send a verbal message. Give my love to your wife and daughter. Keep well.

I came to Tarsus on the 5th of June. There I was upset by many troubles: a big war in Syria, big cases of robbery in Cilicia, my difficulty in arranging things, considering there are only a few days left of my year of office: but the hardest problem of all is that, according to a decree of the Senate, some one must be left

465in charge. The quaestor Mescinius is by no means a suitable person. Of Caelius I hear nothing. The proper thing seems to be to leave my brother with military power, but that involves many difficulties—our separation, risk of war, mutiny in the troops, a thousand other hazards. A hateful business altogether. But fortune must look to it, since reason serves our purpose little.

You, having come safe to Rome, as I hope, will as usual look to everything that concerns me, especially the matter of my daughter, about whose marriage settlement I have written to Terentia expressing my intentions, since you were in Greece. Then please look after my triumph. For as you were absent from town, I fear the Senate hardly paid sufficient attention to my despatch.

The following point I will write to you in dark phrases: your cleverness will scent my meaning. My wife’s freedman (you know whom I mean) seemed to me lately from casual words of his to have cooked his accounts on the sale of the goods of the Crotonian tyrannicide.^[220] I fear you have noticed something. Look into this matter yourself alone, and secure what is left. I cannot write all my fears. Take care that your letter flies to meet me. I write in haste on the march and with my army. Give my love to your wife and to your very charming little daughter.

You must certainly be at Rome now. If you are, I am glad of your safe arrival. So long as you were away from town, you seemed to me to be further off than if you were in Rome, for I heard less of my own business and less of the business of the state. So please send plenty of chatty letters on every kind of subject to meet me, though I hope, when you read this, I shall be well on my journey home. Above all write me on the subject I raised in my former letter. From the stuttering hesitation of my wife’s freedman in our meetings and talks I infer that he has been cooking his accounts a little in the matter of the sale of the Crotonian’s^[221] goods. Investigate the matter with your usual care, but pay still more attention to this. When leaving the city of the seven hills he tendered an account of debts of some £100 and £200^[222] to Camillus, and put himself down as owing £100 from Milo’s goods and £200 from the property in the Chersonese, and as having inherited two sums of £2,600,^[223] of which not a penny had been paid, though all were due on the 1st of the second month. Milo’s freedman, Timotheus, the namesake of Conon’s father, he said, had never given a thought to the matter. Now first try and secure the whole amount, and secondly don’t overlook the interest from the afore-mentioned day. All the time I had to endure him, I was much upset. He came to me to spy out

469the land, and had some hopes. When he lost them, he left without an explanation, saying: “I give in, ’Twere shame to tarry long,” and casting in my teeth the old proverb “take the goods the gods provide you.”^[224] Look after the rest, and let us investigate the matter as thoroughly as possible.

Though I have nearly served my year (for only thirty-three days remain), still I am greatly concerned about my province. Syria is ablaze with war, and Bibulus is burdened with its cares in the midst of his own great sorrow,^[225] and his legates, quaestor and friends write to me to go to his aid: so, although the army I have is weak—the auxiliaries certainly are good, Galatians, Pisidians, Lycians, the main strength of my force—I have thought it my duty to keep an army facing the foe, so long as I am authorized by the Senate’s decree to be in charge of my province. But what pleases me greatly is that Bibulus gives no trouble. He writes to me about any other topic by preference, and the day of my departure creeps on unnoticed. When it arrives, there is the further problem of my substitute, unless my quaestor Caldus comes, of whom so far I have no news.

I should like to write a longer letter, but I have no news, and care keeps me from jesting; so good-bye, and love to your little daughter and to your wife.

While in my province I show Appius every honour, suddenly I find myself father-in-law of Dolabella his accuser. You invoke heaven’s benison. So say I, and you I know are sincere. Believe me, it was the last thing I had expected. Indeed I had even sent trusty agents to Terentia and Tullia about the suit of Ti. Nero, who had made proposals to me: but they arrived in town only when the betrothal was over. However I hope the better course has been taken. I understand that my women folk are highly pleased with the young man’s obliging and courteous temper. As for the rest, don’t pick holes in him.

Good gracious! Do you approve of corn doles to Athens? My own books to be sure do not forbid such a dole, for it was not a largesse to fellow-citizens, but a graceful present in return for hospitality. Still do you encourage me in the matter of the porch for the Academy, when Appius has abandoned his design of a porch at Eleusis? I am sure you are sorry about the news of Hortensius. Personally I am distracted: for it had been my intention to live on intimate terms with him.

I have put Caelius in charge of my province. “A mere boy” you will object, “and perhaps silly, and lacking in dignity and self-control.” I agree; but there was no alternative. The letter I got from you some time ago, in which you said you suspended judgement as to what I ought to do about my substitute, caused me a pang; for I understood the grounds

473of your hesitation and felt them myself. Could I hand it over to a boy? But ought I to hand it over to my brother? The latter is prejudicial to my own interests. My brother was the only man it would not be an insult to prefer to the quaestor, especially as that officer was of noble birth. Still, while the Parthians seemed threatening, I determined to leave my brother in charge, or even to run counter to the decree of the Senate and for the sake of the Republic remain here myself. Their marvellously opportune retirement removed my doubts. I foresaw the world’s comment. “So he has left his brother in charge! Is this holding a province for one year only? And what about the decree of the Senate that ex-governors should not be eligible? Why, his brother was governor for three years.” These are the arguments for the public; but for you I have private reasons. I should have been in constant anxiety as to some exhibition of temper or overbearingness or negligence; for such things will happen. Perhaps his son, a mere headstrong lad, would have given me cause for distress: his father would not send him away, and was annoyed with you for saying that he ought. As for Caelius, I cannot say that I am unconcerned about his past behaviour: but still I am far less concerned. Then there is another point. Pompey (and think of his power and position) chose Q. Cassius without regard to the lot, and Caesar too chose Antony. I could not affront Caelius who had been given to me by lot, and so make him a spy on the actions of my successor. No; my present course is better, accords well with precedent and is well suited to my time of life. But,

475heavens, how I have put you in his good books. I read him a letter, not in your own hand, but in that of your secretary.^[226]

Friends write me to come home to my triumph, a matter, I think, in view of my political renaissance, hardly to be neglected. So I hope, my dear Atticus, that you will look forward to it too, to make me appear less foolish.

The boy Quintus has contrived to reconcile his father to your sister. He showed the proper feeling of a son, and I gave him much encouragement, which he received nothing loath. He was greatly moved by your letter. I trust that matters are as we wish.

I have written to you twice about a domestic matter of mine in Greek and in riddles, if only my letters have reached you. Don’t take decided steps: but still you may do some good by questioning the man simply about Milo’s accounts, and urging him to settle the business as he promised.

I have ordered my quaestor Mescinius to wait at Laodicea, so that in accordance with the Julian law I may leave copies of my accounts in two cities. I want to go to Rhodes for the sake of the boys, thence as soon as possible to Athens, though the Etesian winds are very contrary. But I wish to reach Rome during the magistracy of men whose good-will I experienced over that thanksgiving in my honour. However please send a letter to meet me, saying if you think there can be any political reason for delay.

477Tiro would have written you a letter, but I left him at Issus seriously ill. However a message has reached me that he is better. Still I am upset: for he is a model youth and very attentive.

Just as I had determined to write to you and had taken up my pen, Batonius came straight from his ship to my house at Ephesus and gave me your letter on the 29th of September. I am delighted about your good voyage, and your opportune meeting with your wife and also at her remarks about the marriage of my daughter. But Batonius brought news that was simply awful about Caesar, and was even more frank in conversation with Lepta. I hope his news is false: it was certainly terrifying. He says that Caesar will refuse to disband his army, that the officials elect, praetors, Cassius the tribune and Lentulus the consul take his part, and that Pompey thinks of leaving Rome.

But by the by, are you so sorry for the fellow that thinks himself superior to the uncle of your sister’s son? What fine opponents to beat him! But to business.

The Etesian winds have hindered me much: the open Rhodian boats too caused me a delay of exactly twenty days. On the 1st of October, as I am embarking from Ephesus, I give this letter to L. Tarquitius, who is leaving the harbour at the same time, but sailing by a faster boat. I have had to wait for fair weather owing to the undecked boats and other war vessels of the Rhodians. However I am hurrying as fast as possible.

479Many thanks for paying the man of Puteoli^[228] his pence. Now please consider politics, and see what you think I should do about the triumph, to which my friends invite me. I should have been quite happy, had not Bibulus been trying for a triumph, though the man never set his foot outside his house so long as there was one enemy in Syria any more than he set foot out of his house in town when he was consul. But as it is “’twere base to hold one’s peace.”^[229] But consider the whole matter, that we may be able to decide something on the day we meet.

That’s enough, considering I am in a hurry and am giving this letter to a man who will arrive at the same time as myself or just before me. My son pays you his best respects. Please give the compliments of both of us to your wife and daughter.

As soon as I landed in port on the 14th of Oct. I received your letter from my slave Acastus. I have been looking forward to it so long that I was surprised at its brevity, as I looked at the letter before breaking the seal. Again, when I opened it, I was startled at the illegibility of the scribble, for your hand is generally very fine and legible. In short I gathered from the style of writing that you had arrived in town, as you stated, on the 19th of Sept., suffering from an attack of fever. Much disturbed, as I was bound to be, I questioned my slave. He said that both he

481and you thought that it was nothing serious and that he had gathered as much from your people. This view seemed to be supported by a remark at the end of your letter that at the time of writing you had a touch of fever. However I was greatly surprised and pleased at your writing to me in your own hand under the circumstances. So I will say no more. For I hope considering your careful and temperate life—and to be sure Acastus bids me be confident—that you are now as well as I could wish.

I am glad you got my letter from Turranius. Keep a very strict eye, as you love me, on the untimely designs of that cooker of accounts Philotimus. As to this legacy from Precius, which is a great sorrow to me—for I loved him indeed—don’t let the fellow lay a finger on it, small as it is. You will say that I want money for the outfit of my triumph. You shall see that following your advice I will not show foolish vanity in seeking a triumph, nor be phlegmatic enough to refuse it.

I gather from your letter that you heard from Turranius I had given over my province to my brother. Do you imagine that I overlooked the cautious tone of your letter? You wrote that you were doubtful. There could have been no reason for doubts, if there had been grounds for leaving a brother and such a brother in charge. I took your doubts for dogmatic rejection. You warn me on no account to leave the young Quintus. Your words repeat my dream. The same vision came to us both, as though we had talked it over. There was nothing else to be done, and your long doubt has relieved me of hesitation. But I fancy you must have already got a letter on this topic written in more detail.

483I mean to send letter-carriers to you to-morrow, who I fancy will arrive before our friend Saufeius: but it was hardly proper that he should come to you without a letter from me. Please write me fully, as you promise, about my little daughter, that is about her husband Dolabella, about the political situation in which I foresee much trouble, about the censors, and above all about the business of statues and pictures, and whether the matter will come up before the Senate.^[230] The 15th of October is the date of this letter, a day on which you say Caesar is going to bring four legions to Placentia. I wonder what will be our fate. My present quarters on the Acropolis at Athens seem to me the best place.