No More Learning

Some one will ask "What! were those identical great men,
whose virtues have been recorded in books, accomplished in all
that learning which you are extolling so highly? " It is difficult
to assert this of all of them; but still I know what answer I can
make to that question: I admit that many men have existed of
admirable disposition and virtue, who without learning, by the
almost divine instinct of their own mere nature, have been, of
their own accord as it were, moderate and wise men.
I even


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add this, that very often nature without learning has had more
to do with leading men to credit and to virtue, than learning
when not assisted by a good natural disposition. And I also
contend that when to an excellent and admirable natural dispo-
sition there is added a certain system and training of education,
then from that combination arises an extraordinary perfection of
character: such as is seen in that godlike man whom our
fathers saw in their time— Africanus; and in Caius Lælius and
Lucius Furius, most virtuous and moderate men; and in that
most excellent man, the most learned man of his time, Marcus
Cato the elder: and all these men, if they had been to derive no
assistance from literature in the cultivation and practice of vir-
tue, would never have applied themselves to the study of it.
Though even if there were no such great advantage to be
reaped from it, and if it were only pleasure that is sought from
these studies, still I imagine you would consider it a most
reasonable and liberal employment of the mind: for other occu-
pations are not suited to every time, nor to every age or place;
but these studies are the food of youth, the delight of old age;
the ornament of prosperity, the refuge and comfort of adversity;
a delight at home, and no hindrance abroad; they are com-
panions by night, and in travel, and in the country.
And if we ourselves were not able to arrive at these advan-
tages, nor even taste them with our senses, still we ought to
admire them even when we saw them in others.
And
indeed, we have constantly heard from men of the greatest
eminence and learning that the study of other sciences was
made up of learning, and rules, and regular method; but that a
poet was such by the unassisted work of nature, and was moved
by the vigor of his own mind, and was inspired as it were by
some divine wrath. Wherefore rightly does our own great En-
nius call poets holy; because they seem to be recommended to
us by some especial gift, as it were, and liberality of the gods.
Let then, judges, this name of poet, this name which no bar-
barians even have ever disregarded, be holy in your eyes, men
of cultivated minds as you all are. Rocks and deserts reply to
the poet's voice; savage beasts are often moved and arrested by
song; and shall we who have been trained in the pursuit of the
most virtuous acts refuse to be swayed by the voice of poets?
The Colophonians say that Homer was their citizen; the Chians.
claim him as theirs, the Salaminians assert their right to him;


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but the men of Smyrna loudly assert him to be a citizen of
Smyrna, and they have even raised a temple to him in their
city. Many other places also fight with one another for the
honor of being his birthplace.
They then claim a stranger, even after his death, because he
was a poet: shall we reject this man while he is alive, a man
who by his own inclination and by our laws does actually belong
to us? especially when Archias has employed all his genius with
the utmost zeal in celebrating the glory and renown of the
Roman people? For when a young man, he touched on our
wars against the Cimbri and gained the favor even of Caius
Marius himself, a man who was tolerably proof against this sort
of study. For there was no one so disinclined to the Muses as
not willingly to endure that the praise of his labors should be
made immortal by means of verse. They say that the great
Themistocles, the greatest man that Athens produced, said when
some one asked him what sound or whose voice he took the
greatest delight in hearing, "The voice of that by whom his own.
exploits were best celebrated. " Therefore, the great Marius was
also exceedingly attached to Lucius Plotius, because he thought
that the achievement which he had performed could be celebrated
by his genius. And the whole Mithridatic war, great and diffi-
cult as it was, and carried on with so much diversity of fortune
by land and sea, has been related at length by him; and the
books in which that is sung of, not only make illustrious Lucius
Lucullus, that most gallant and celebrated man, but they do
honor also to the Roman people. For while Lucullus was gen-
eral, the Roman people opened Pontus, though it was defended
both by the resources of the king and by the character of the
country itself.
Under the same general the army of the Roman
people, with no very great numbers, routed the countless hosts
of the Armenians. It is the glory of the Roman people that by
the wisdom of that same general, the city of the Cyzicenes, most
friendly to us, was delivered and preserved from all the attacks
of the kind, and from the very jaws as it were of the whole war.
Ours is the glory which will be for ever celebrated, which is
derived from the fleet of the enemy which was sunk after its
admirals had been slain, and from the marvelous naval battle off
Tenedos: those trophies belong to us, those monuments are ours,
those triumphs are ours. Therefore I say that the men by
whose genius these exploits are celebrated make illustrious at


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3691
the same time the glory of the Roman people. Our countryman
Ennius was dear to the elder Africanus; and even on the tomb
of the Scipios his effigy is believed to be visible, carved in the
marble. But undoubtedly it is not only the men who are them-
selves praised who are done honor to by those praises, but the
name of the Roman people also is adorned by them. Cato, the
ancestor of this Cato, is extolled to the skies. Great honor is
paid to the exploits of the Roman people. Lastly, all those
great men, the Maximi, the Marcelli, and the Fulvii, are done
honor to, not without all of us having also a share in the pan-
egyric.
Certainly, if the mind had no anticipations of posterity, and
if it were to confine all its thoughts within the same limits as
those by which the space of our lives is bounded, it would neither
break itself with such severe labors, nor would it be tormented
with such cares and sleepless anxiety, nor would it so often have
to fight for its very life. At present there is a certain virtue in
every good man, which night and day stirs up the mind with the
stimulus of glory, and reminds it that all mention of our name
will not cease at the same time with our lives, but that our fame
will endure to all posterity.
Do we all who are occupied in the affairs of the State, and
who are surrounded by such perils and dangers in life, appear to
be so narrow-minded as, though to the last moment of our lives
we have never passed one tranquil or easy moment, to think that
everything will perish at the same time as ourselves? Ought we
not, when many most illustrious men have with great care col-
lected and left behind them statues and images, representations
not of their minds but of their bodies, much more to desire to
leave behind us a copy of our counsels and of our virtues,
wrought and elaborated by the greatest genius? I thought, at
the very moment of performing them, that I was scattering and
disseminating all the deeds which I was performing, all over the
world for the eternal recollection of nations. And whether that
delight is to be denied to my soul after death, or whether, as
the wisest men have thought, it will affect some portion of my
spirit, at all events I am at present delighted with some such
idea and hope.


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HONORS PROPOSED FOR THE DEAD STATESMAN SULPICIUS
From the Ninth Philippic
OU
UR ancestors indeed decreed statues to many men; public
sepulchres to few. But statues perish by weather, by vio-
lence, by lapse of time; the sanctity of the sepulchres is
in the soil itself, which can neither be moved nor destroyed by
any violence; and while other things are extinguished, so sepul-
chres become holier by age.
Let then this man be distinguished by that honor also, a
man to whom no honor can be given which is not deserved.
Let us be grateful in paying respect in death to him to whom
we can now show no other gratitude. And by that same step
let the audacity of Marcus Antonius, waging a nefarious war,
be branded with infamy. For when these honors have been
paid to Servius Sulpicius, the evidence of his embassy having
been insulted and rejected by Antonius will remain for ever-
lasting.
On which account I give my vote for a decree in this form:
"As Servius Sulpicius Rufus, the son of Quintus, of the Lemo-
nian tribe, at a most critical period of the republic, and being
ill with a very serious and dangerous disease, preferred the
authority of the Senate and the safety of the republic to his
own life; and struggled against the violence and severity of his
illness, in order to arrive at the camp of Antonius, to which the
Senate had sent him; and as he, when he had almost arrived at
the camp, being overwhelmed by the violence of the disease,
has lost his life in discharging a most important office of the
republic; and as his death has been in strict correspondence to
a life passed with the greatest integrity and honor, during which
he, Servius Sulpicius, has often been of great service to the re-
public, both as a private individual and in the discharge of vari-
ous magistracies: and as he, being such a man, has encountered
death on behalf of the republic while employed on an embassy;
the Senate decrees that a brazen pedestrian statue of Servius.
Sulpicius be erected in the rostra in compliance with the resolu-
tion of this order, and that his children and posterity shall have
a place round this statue of five feet in every direction, from
which to behold the games and gladiatorial combats, because he
died in the cause of the republic; and that this reason be in-
scribed on the pedestal of the statue; and that Caius Pansa and


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3693
Aulus Hirtius the consuls, one or both of them, if it seem good
to them, shall command the quæstors of the city to let out a
contract for making that pedestal and that statue, and erecting
them in the rostra; and that whatever price they contract
for, they shall take care the amount is given and paid to the
contractor; and as in old times the Senate has exerted its
authority with respect to the obsequies of, and honors paid to,
brave men, it now decrees that he shall be carried to the tomb
on the day of his funeral with the greatest possible solemnity.
And as Servius
Servius Sulpicius Rufus, the son of Quintus cf the
Lemonian tribe, has deserved so well of the republic as to be
entitled to be complimented with all those distinctions; the Sen-
ate is of opinion, and thinks it for the advantage of the repub-
lic, that the curule ædile should suspend the edict which usually
prevails with respect to funerals, in the case. of the funeral of
Servius Sulpicius Rufus, the son of Quintus of the Lemonian
tribe; and that Caius Pansa the consul shall assign him a place
for a tomb in the Esquiline plain, or in whatever place shall
seem good to him, extending thirty feet in every direction,
where Servius Sulpicius may be buried; and that that shall be
his tomb, and that of his children and posterity, as having been
a tomb most deservedly given to them by the public authority. "
OLD FRIENDS BETTER THAN NEW
From the Dialogue on Friendship'
Β'
UT there arises on this subject a somewhat difficult question:
Whether ever new friends, if deserving friendship, are to be
preferred to old ones, just as we are wont to prefer young
colts to old horses? -a perplexity unworthy of a man; for there
ought to be no satiety of friendship as of other things: every-
thing which is oldest (as those wines which bear age well) ought
to be sweetest; and that is true which is sometimes said, "Many
bushels of salt must be eaten together," before the duty of
friendship can be fulfilled. But new friendships, if they afford a
hope that, as in the case of plants which never disappoint, fruits
shall appear, such are not to be rejected; yet the old one must
be preserved in its proper place, for the power of age and custom
is exceedingly great; besides, in the very case of the horse, which
I just mentioned, if there is no impediment, there is no one who


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MARCUS TULLIUS CICERO
does not more pleasurably use that to which he is accustomed
than one unbroken and strange to him; and habit asserts its
power, and habit prevails, not only in the case of this, which is
animate, but also in the cases of those things which are inani-
mate; since we take delight in the very mountainous or woody
scenery among which we have long dwelt.
HONORED OLD AGE
From the Dialogue on Old Age
B
UT in my whole discourse remember that I am praising that
old age which is established on the foundations of youth:
from which this is effected which I once asserted with the
great approbation of all present,— that wretched was the old age
which had to defend itself by speaking. Neither gray hairs nor
wrinkles can suddenly catch respect; but the former part of life
honorably spent, reaps the fruits of authority at the close. For
these very observances which seem light and common are marks
of honor -to be saluted, to be sought after, to receive prece-
dence, to have persons rising up to you, to be attended on the
way, to be escorted home, to be consulted; points which, both
among us and in other States, in proportion as they are the most
excellent in their morals, are the most scrupulously observed.
They say that Lysander the Lacedæmonian, whom I mentioned
a little above, was accustomed to remark that Lacedæmon was
the most honorable abode for old age; for nowhere is so much
conceded to that time of life, nowhere is old age more respected.
Nay, further: it is recorded that when at Athens during the
games a certain elderly person had entered the theatre, a place
was nowhere offered him in that large assembly by his own
townsmen; but when he had approached the Lacedæmonians,
who, as they were ambassadors, had taken their seats together
in a particular place, they all rose up and invited the old man to
a seat; and when reiterated applause had been bestowed upon
them by the whole assembly, one of them remarked that the
Athenians knew what was right, but were unwilling to do it.
There are many excellent rules in our college, but this of which
I am treating especially, that in proportion as each man has the
advantage in age, so he takes precedence in giving his opinion;
and older augurs are preferred not only to those who are higher


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3695
in office, but even to such as are in actual command. What
pleasures, then, of the body can be compared with the privileges
of authority? which they who have nobly employed seem to me
to have consummated the drama of life, and not like inexpert
performers to have broken down in the last act. Still, old men
are peevish, and fretful, and passionate, and unmanageable,-
nay, if we seek for such, also covetous: but these are the faults
of their characters, not of their old age. And yet that peevish-
ness and those faults which I have mentioned have some excuse,
not quite satisfactory indeed, but such as may be admitted.
They fancy that they are neglected, despised, made a jest of;
besides, in a weak state of body every offense is irritating. All
which defects however are extenuated by good dispositions and
qualities; and this may be discovered not only in real life, but
on the stage, from the two brothers that are represented in
'The Brothers'; how much austerity in the one, and how much
gentleness in the other! Such is the fact: for as it is not every
wine, so it is not every man's life, that grows sour from old
age. I approve of gravity in old age, but this in a moderate
degree, like everything else; harshness by no means. What
avarice in an old man can propose to itself I cannot conceive:
for can anything be more absurd than, in proportion as less of
our journey remains, to seek a greater supply of provisions?
DEATH IS WELCOME TO THE OLD
From the Dialogue on Old Age'
A
N OLD man indeed has nothing to hope for; yet he is in so
much the happier state than a young one, since he has
already attained what the other is only hoping for. The
one is wishing to live long, the other has lived long. And yet,
good gods! what is there in man's life that can be called long?
For allow the latest period: let us anticipate the age of the
kings of the Tartessii. For there dwelt, as I find it recorded, a
man named Arganthonius at Gades, who reigned for eighty
years, and lived one hundred and twenty. But to my mind
nothing whatever seems of long duration, in which there is any
end. For when that arrives, then the time which has passed has
flowed away; that only remains which you have secured by virtue
and right conduct. Hours indeed depart from us, and days and


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MARCUS TULLIUS CICERO
months and years; nor does past time ever return, nor can it be
discovered what is to follow. Whatever time is assigned to each
to live, with that he ought to be content: for neither need the
drama be performed entire by the actor, in order to give satisfac-
tion, provided he be approved in whatever act he may be; nor
need the wise man live till the plaudite. For the short period of
life is long enough for living well and honorably; and if you
should advance further, you need no more grieve than farmers do
when the loveliness of springtime hath passed, that summer and
autumn have come. For spring represents the time of youth
and gives promise of the future fruits; the remaining seasons are
intended for plucking and gathering in those fruits. Now the
harvest of old age, as I have often said, is the recollection and
abundance of blessings previously secured. In truth, everything
that happens agreeably to nature is to be reckoned among bless-
ings. What, however, is so agreeable to nature as for an old
man to die? which even is the lot of the young, though nature
opposes and resists. And thus it is that young men seem to
me to die just as when the violence of flame is extinguished by
a flood of water; whereas old men die as the exhausted fire
goes out, spontaneously, without the exertion of any force: and
as fruits when they are green are plucked by force from the
trees, but when ripe and mellow drop off, so violence takes away
their lives from youths, maturity from old men; a state which
to me indeed is so delightful, that the nearer I approach to
death, I seem as it were to be getting sight of land, and at
length after a long voyage to be just coming into harbor.
GREAT ORATORS AND THEIR TRAINING
From the Dialogue on Oratory>
F
OR who can suppose that amid the great multitude of stu-
dents, the utmost abundance of masters, the most eminent
geniuses among men, the infinite variety of causes, the
most ample rewards offered to eloquence, there is any other
reason to be found for the small number of orators than the
incredible magnitude and difficulty of the art? A knowledge
of a vast number of things is necessary, without which volubility
of words is empty and ridiculous; speech itself is to be formed,
not merely by choice, but by careful construction of words; and


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all the emotions of the mind which nature has given to man,
must be intimately known; for all the force and art of speaking
must be employed in allaying or exciting the feelings of those
who listen. To this must be added a certain portion of grace
and wit, learning worthy of a well-bred man, and quickness and
brevity in replying as well as attacking, accompanied with a
refined decorum and urbanity. Besides, the whole of antiquity
and a multitude of examples is to be kept in the memory;
nor is the knowledge of laws in general, or of the civil law in
particular, to be neglected. And why need I add any remarks
on delivery itself, which is to be ordered by action of body, by
gesture, by look, and by modulation and variation of the voice,
the great power of which, alone and in itself, the comparatively
trivial art of actors and the stage proves; on which though all
bestow their utmost labor to form their look, voice, and gesture,
who knows not how few there are, and have ever been, to whom
we can attend with patience? What can I say of that repository
for all things, the memory; which, unless it be made the keeper
of the matter and words that are the fruits of thought and
invention, all the talents of the orator, we see, though they be
of the highest degree of excellence, will be of no avail ? Let
us then cease to wonder what is the cause of the scarcity of
good speakers, since eloquence results from all those qualifica-
tions, in each of which singly it is a great merit to labor suc-
cessfully; and let us rather exhort our children, and others
whose glory and honor is dear to us, to contemplate in their
minds the full magnitude of the object, and not to trust that
they can reach the height at which they aim by the aid of the
precepts, masters, and exercises that they are all now follow-
ing, but to understand that they must adopt others of a different
character.
In my opinion, indeed, no man can be an orator possessed
of every praiseworthy accomplishment unless he has attained
the knowledge of everything important, and of all liberal arts;
for his language must be ornate and copious from knowledge,
since unless there be beneath the surface matter understood
and felt by the speaker, oratory becomes an empty and almost
puerile flow of words.
"I am then of opinion," said Crassus, "that nature and
genius in the first place contribute most aid to speaking; and
that to those writers on the art to whom Antonius just now
VI-232


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MARCUS TULLIUS CICERO
alluded, it was not skill and method in speaking, but natural
talent that was wanting; for there ought to be certain lively
powers in the mind and understanding, which may be acute to
invent, fertile to explain and adorn, and strong and retentive to
remember; and if any one imagines that these powers may be
acquired by art (which is false, for it is very well if they can
be animated and excited by art; but they certainly cannot by art
be ingrafted or instilled, since they are all the gifts of nature),
what will he say of those qualities which are certainly born with
the man himself - volubility of tongue, tone of voice, strength of
lungs, and a peculiar conformation and aspect of the whole
countenance and body? I do not say that art cannot improve
in these particulars (for I am not ignorant that what is good
may be made better by education, and what is not very good
may be in some degree polished and amended); but there are
some persons so hesitating in their speech, so inharmonious in
their tone of voice, or so unwieldy and rude in the air and
movements of their bodies, that whatever power they possess
either from genius or art, they can never be reckoned in the
number of accomplished speakers; while there are others so hap-
pily qualified in these respects, so eminently adorned with the
gifts of nature, that they seem not to have been born like other
men, but molded by some divinity. It is indeed a great task
and enterprise for a person to undertake and profess that while
every one else is silent, he alone must be heard on the most
important subjects, and in a large assembly of men; for there is
scarcely any one present who is not sharper and quicker to dis-
cover defects in the speaker than merits; and thus whatever
offends the hearer effaces the recollection of what is worthy of
praise. I do not make these observations for the purpose of
altogether deterring young men from the study of oratory, even
if they be deficient in some natural endowments. For who does
not perceive that to C. Cælius, my contemporary, a new man,
the mere mediocrity in speaking which he was enabled to attain
was a great honor? Who does not know that Q. Varius, your
equal in age, a clumsy uncouth man, has obtained his great popu-
larity by the cultivation of such faculties as he has?
"But as our inquiry regards the complete orator, we must
imagine in our discussion an orator from whom every kind of
fault is abstracted, and who is adorned with every kind of
merit. For if the multitude of suits, if the variety of causes, if


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3699
the rabble and barbarism of the forum, afford room for even
the most wretched speakers, we must not for that reason take
our eyes from the object of our inquiry. In those arts in
which it is not indispensable usefulness that is sought, but lib-
eral amusement for the mind, how nicely, how almost fastid-
iously, do we judge! For there are no suits or controversies
which can force men, though they may tolerate indifferent ora-
tors in the forum, to endure also bad actors upon the stage.
The orator therefore must take the most studious precaution not
merely to satisfy those whom he necessarily must satisfy, but to
seem worthy of admiration to those who are at liberty to judge
disinterestedly. If you would know what I myself think, I will
express to you, my intimate friends, what I have hitherto never
mentioned, and thought that I never should mention.
To me,
those who speak best and speak with the utmost ease and
grace, appear, if they do not commence their speeches with
some timidity, and show some confusion in the exordium, to
have almost lost the sense of shame; though it is impossible that
such should not be the case: for the better qualified a man is to
speak, the more he fears the difficulties of speaking, the uncer-
tain success of a speech, and the expectation of the audience.
But he who can produce and deliver nothing worthy of his sub-
ject, nothing worthy of the name of an orator, nothing worthy
the attention of his audience, seems to me, though he be ever
so confused while he is speaking, to be downright shameless; for
we ought to avoid a character for shamelessness, not by testify-
ing shame, but by not doing that which does not become us.
But the speaker who has no shame (as I see to be the case with
many) I regard as deserving not only of rebuke but of personal
castigation. Indeed, what I often observe in you I very fre-
quently experience in myself; that I turn pale in the outset of
my speech, and feel a tremor through my whole thoughts, as it
were, and limbs. When I was a young man, I was on one occa-
sion so timid in commencing an accusation, that I owed to Q.
Maximus the greatest of obligations for immediately dismissing
the assembly as soon as he saw me absolutely disheartened and
incapacitated through fear. " Here they all signified assent,
looked significantly at one another, and began to talk together;
for there was a wonderful modesty in Crassus, which however
was not only no disadvantage to his oratory, but even an assist-
ance to it, by giving it the recommendation of probity.


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CICERO TO TIRO
[The following epistles are taken by permission from Jeans's Letters of
Cicero. This letter gives a vivid glimpse of Cicero's tenderness to his slaves
and freedmen. Tiro was probably the first editor of his former master's
letters. ]
ΑΕ
GYPTA arrived here on the 12th of April. Although he
reported that you were now quite rid of your fever and
going on very well, he nevertheless caused me some
anxiety by his report that you were not able to write to me, the
more so because Hermia, who ought to have been here on the
same day, has not yet come. I am more anxious than you can
believe about your health. Only free me from this anxiety and
I will free you from all duties. I would write you more if I
thought you could now read more with pleasure. Use all the tal-
ents you possess, of which I have no small opinion, to keep your-
self safe for my sake as well as your own. Again and again I
repeat, take every precaution about your health. Good-by.
P. S. -Hermia is just come. I have your note with its poor
weak handwriting-no wonder, too, after so severe an illness. I
send out Ægypta to stay with you because he is not a bad com-
panion, and appeared to me to be fond of you; and with him a
cook, for you to make use of his services.
Good-by.
CICERO TO ATTICUS
[The family affection of Cicero might be illustrated by many such letters
as the following:]
I
T BEING now eleven days since I left you, I am scrawling this
little bit of a note just as I am leaving my country-house
before it is light. I think of being at my place at Anagnia
to-day, and Tusculum to-morrow; only one day there, so that I
shall come up all right to time on the 28th; and oh, if could
but run on at once to embrace my Tullia and give Attica a kiss!
Talking of this, by-the-by, do please write and let me know
while I am stopping at Tusculum what her prattle is like, or if
she is away in the country, what her letters to you are about.
Meanwhile either send or give her my love, and Pilia too. And
even though we shall meet immediately, yet will you write to
me anything you can find to say?


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3701
P. S. I was just fastening up this letter, but your courier
has arrived here after a long night journey with your letter. I
was very sorry, you may be sure, to find on reading it that
Attica is feverish. Everything else that I was waiting for I
now know from your note; but when you tell me that to have a
little fire in the morning sent le vieillard," I retort il le sent
plus for one's poor old memory to begin to totter: because it
was the 29th I had promised to Axius; the 30th to you; and the
day of my arrival, the 31st, to Quintus. So take that for your-
self- you shall have no news. Then what on earth is the good
of writing? And what good is it when we are together and
chatter whatever comes to our tongues? Surely there is some-
thing in causerie after all; even if there is nothing under it, there
is always at least the delicious feeling that we are talking with
one another.
SULPICIUS CONSOLES CICERO AFTER HIS DAUGHTER
TULLIA'S DEATH
FOR
some time after I had received the information of the
death of your daughter Tullia, you may be sure that I
bore it sadly and heavily, as much indeed as was right for
me. I felt that I shared that terrible loss with you; and that
had I but been where you are, you on your part would not have
found me neglectful, and I on he should not have failed to
come to you and tell you myself how deeply grieved I am. And
though it is true that consolations of this nature are painful
and distressing, because those [dear friends and relations] upon
whom the task naturally devolves are themselves afflicted with a
similar burden, and incapable even of attempting it without
many tears, so that one would rather suppose them in need of
the consolations of others for themselves than capable of doing
this kind office to others, yet nevertheless I have decided to
write to you briefly such reflections as have occurred to me on
the present occasion; not that I imagine them to be ignored by
you, but because it is possible that you may be hindered by
your sorrow from seeing them as clearly as usual.
;
What reason is there why you should allow the private grief
which has befallen you to distress you so terribly? Recollect
how fortune has hitherto dealt with us: how we have been


## p. 3702 (#58) ############################################

3702
MARCUS TULLIUS CICERO
bereft of all that ought to be no less dear to men than their
own children-of country, position, rank, and every honorable
office. If one more burden has now been laid upon you, could
any addition be made to your pain? Or is there any heart that
having been trained in the school of such events, ought not now.
to be steeled by use against emotion, and think everything after
them to be comparatively light?
Or it is for her sake, I suppose, that you are grieving? How
many times must you have arrived at the same conclusion as
that into which I too have frequently fallen, that in these days.
theirs is not the hardest lot who are permitted painlessly to
exchange their life for the grave! Now what was there at the
present time that could attach her very strongly to life? what
hope? what fruition? what consolation for the soul? The pros-
pect of a wedded life with a husband chosen from our young
men of rank? Truly, one would think it was always in your
power to choose a son-in-law of a position suitable to your rank
out of our young men, one to whose keeping you would feel you
could safely intrust the happiness of a child. Or that of being
a joyful mother of children, who would be happy in seeing
them succeeding in life; able by their own exertions to maintain.
in its integrity all that was bequeathed them by their father;
intending gradually to rise to all the highest offices of the State;
and to use that liberty to which they were born for the good of
their country and the service of their friends. Is there any one
of these things that has not been taken away before it was
given?
But surely it is hard to give up one's children? It is
hard; but this is harder still-that they should bear and suffer
what we are doing.
A circumstance which was such as to afford me no light con-
solation I cannot but mention to you, in the hope that it may
be allowed to contribute equally towards mitigating your grief.
As I was returning from Asia, when sailing from Ægina in the
direction of Megara, I began to look around me at the various
places by which I was surrounded. Behind me was Ægina, in
front Megara; on the right the Piræus, on the left Corinth;
all of them towns that in former days were most magnificent,
but are
now lying prostrate and in ruins before one's eyes. "Ah
me," I began to reflect to myself, "we poor feeble mortals, who
can claim but a short life in comparison, complain as though a
wrong was done us if one of our number dies in the course of


## p. 3703 (#59) ############################################

MARCUS TULLIUS CICERO
3703
nature, or has met his death by violence; and here in one spot
are lying stretched out before me the corpses of so many cities!
Servius, be master of yourself, and remember that it is the lot of
man to which you have been born. " Believe me, I found
myself in no small degree strengthened by these reflections.
Let me advise you too, if you think good, to keep this reflection
before your eyes.
How lately at one and the same time have
many of our most illustrious men fallen! how grave an encroach-
ment has been made on the rights of the sovereign people of
Rome! every province in the world has been convulsed with the
shock: if the frail life of a tender woman has gone too, who
being born to the common lot of man must needs have died in
a few short years, even if the time had not come for her now,
are you thus utterly stricken down?
Do you then also recall your feelings and your thoughts from
dwelling on this subject, and as beseems your character bethink
yourself rather of this: that she has lived as long as life was of
value to her; that she has passed away only together with her
country's freedom; that she lived to see her father elected Præ-
tor, Consul, Augur; that she had been the wife of young men
of the first rank; that after enjoying well-nigh every blessing
that life can offer, she left it only when the Republic itself was
falling. The account is closed, and what have you, what has
she, to charge of injustice against Fate? In a word, forget not
that you are Cicero - that you are he who was always wont to
guide others and give them good advice; and be not like those
quack physicians who when others are sick boast that they hold
the key of the knowledge of medicine, to heal themselves are
never able; but rather minister to yourself with your own hand
the remedies which you are in the habit of prescribing for
others, and put them plainly before your own soul. There is
no pain so great but the lapse of time will lessen and assuage
it: it is not like yourself to wait until this time comes, instead
of stepping forward by your philosophy to anticipate that result.
And if even those who are low in the grave have any conscious-
ness at all, such was her love for you and her tenderness for all
around her that surely she does not wish to see this in you.
Make this a tribute then to her who is dead; to all your friends
and relations who are mourning in your grief; and make it to
your country also, that if in anything the need should arise she
may be able to trust to your energy and guidance. Finally,


## p. 3704 (#60) ############################################

3704
MARCUS TULLIUS CICERO
since such is the condition we have come to, that even this con-
sideration must perforce be obeyed, do not let your conduct
induce any one to believe that it is not so much your daughter
as the circumstances of the Republic and the victory of others.
which you are deploring.
I shrink from writing to you at greater length upon this
subject, lest I should seem to be doubtful of your own good
sense; allow
me therefore to put before you one more con-
sideration, and then I will bring my letter to a close.
We have
seen you not once but many times bearing prosperity most
gracefully, and gaining yourself great reputation thereby: let us
see at last that you are capable also of bearing adversity equally
well, and that it is not in your eyes a heavier burden than it
ought to seem; lest we should think that of all the virtues this
is the only one in which you are wanting.
As for myself, when I find you are more composed in mind
I will send you information about all that is being done in these
parts, and the state in which the province finds itself at present.
Farewell.
CICERO'S REPLY TO SULPICIUS
YES
´ES, my dear Servius, I could indeed wish you had been with
me, as you say, at the time of my terrible trial. How
much it was in your power to help me if you had been here,
by sympathizing with, and I may almost say, sharing equally in
my grief, I readily perceive from the fact that after reading your
letter I now feel myself considerably more composed; for not
only was all that you wrote just what is best calculated to soothe
affliction, but you yourself in comforting me showed that you too
had no little pain at heart. Your son Servius however has made
it clear, by every kindly attention which such an occasion would
permit of, both how great his respect was for myself and also
how much pleasure his kind feeling for me was likely to give
you; and you may be sure that, while such attentions from him
have often been more pleasant to me, they have never made
me more grateful.
It is not however only your arguments and your equal share,
in this affliction which comforts me,
I may almost call it,
but also your authority; because I hold it shame in me not to
be bearing my trouble in a way that you, a man endowed with
-
-


## p. 3705 (#61) ############################################

MARCUS TULLIUS CICERO
3705
such wisdom, think it ought to be borne. But at times I do
feel broken down, and I scarcely make any struggle against
my grief, because those consolations fail me which under simi-
lar calamities were never wanting to any of those other people
whom I put before myself as models for imitation. Both Fab-
ius Maximus, for example, when he lost a son who had held
the consulship, the hero of many a famous exploit; and Lacius
Paulus, from whom two were taken in one week; and your own
kinsman Gallus; and Marcus Cato, who was deprived of a son
of the rarest talents and the rarest virtue,- all these lived in
times when their individual affliction was capable of finding a
solace in the distinctions they used to earn from their country.
For me, however, after being stripped of all those distinctions
which you yourself recall to me, and which I had won for myself
by unparalleled exertions, only that one solace remained which.
has been torn away. My thoughts were not diverted by work
for my friends, or by the administration of affairs of state;
there was no pleasure in pleading in the courts; I could not
bear the very sight of the Senate House; I felt, as was indeed.
too true, that I had lost all the harvest of both my industry and
my success. But whenever I wanted to recollect that all this
was shared with you and other friends I could name, and when-
ever I was breaking myself in and forcing my spirit to bear
these things with patience, I always had a refuge to go to where
I might find peace, and in whose words of comfort and sweet
society I could rid me of all my pains and griefs. Whereas now,
under this terrible blow, even those old wounds which seemed
to have healed up are bleeding afresh; for it is impossible for
me now to find such a refuge from my sorrows at home in the
business of the State, as in those days I did in that consolation
of home, which was always in store whenever I came away sad
from thoughts of State to seek for peace in her happiness. And
so I stay away both from home and from public life; because
home now is no more able to make up for the sorrow I feel
when I think of our country, than our country is for my sorrow
at home. I am therefore looking forward all the more eagerly
to your coming, and long to see you as early as that may pos-
sibly be; no greater alleviation can be offered me than a meet-
ing between us for friendly intercourse and conversation. I hope
however that your return is to take place, as I hear it is, very
shortly. As for myself, while there are abundant reasons for


## p. 3706 (#62) ############################################

3706
MARCUS TULLIUS CICERO
wanting to see you as soon as possible, my principal one is in
order that we may discuss together beforehand the best method
of conduct for present circumstances, which must entirely be
adapted to the wishes of one man only, a man nevertheless who
is far-seeing and generous, and also, as I think I have thoroughly
ascertained, to me not at all ill-disposed and to you extremely
friendly. But admitting this, it is still a matter for much delib-
eration what is the line,-I do not say of action, but of keeping
quiet, that we ought by his good leave and favor to adopt.
Farewell.
――――
A HOMESICK EXILE
I
SEND this with love, my dearest Terentia, hoping that you
and my little Tullia and my Marcus are all well.
From the letters of several people and the talk of every-
body I hear that your courage and endurance are simply
wonderful, and that no troubles of body or mind can exhaust
your energy. How unhappy I am to think that with all your
courage and devotion, your virtues and gentleness, you should
have fallen into such misfortunes for me! And my sweet Tullia
too, that she who was once so proud of her father should have
to undergo such troubles owing to him! And what shall I say
about my boy Marcus, who ever since his faculties of perception
awoke has felt the sharpest pangs of sorrow and misery? Now
could I but think, as you tell me, that all this comes in the
natural course of things, I could bear it a little easier. But it
has been brought about entirely by my own fault, for thinking
myself loved by those who were jealous of me, and turning from
those who wanted to win me.
I have thanked the
people you wanted me to, and mentioned that my information
came from you. As to the block of houses which you tell me
you mean to sell-why, good heavens! my dear Terentia, what
is to be done! Oh, what troubles I have to bear! And if
misfortune continues to persecute us, what will become of our
poor boy? I cannot continue to write-my tears are too much
for me; nor would I wish to betray you into the same emotion.
All I can say is that if our friends act up to their bounden
duty we shall not want for money; if they do not, you will not
be able to succeed only with your own. Let our unhappy for-
tunes, I entreat you, be a warning to us not to ruin our boy,


## p. 3707 (#63) ############################################

MARCUS TULLIUS CICERO
3707
who is ruined enough already. If he only has something to save
him from absolute want, a fair share of talent and a fair share
of luck will be all that is necessary to win anything else. Do
not neglect your health; and send me messengers with letters to
let me know what goes on, and how you yourselves are faring.
My suspense in any case cannot now be long. Give my love to
my little Tullia and my Marcus.
DYRRACHIUM, Nov. 26.
P. S. -I have moved to Dyrrachium because it is not only a
free city, but very much in my interest, and quite near to Italy;
but if the bustle of the place proves an annoyance I shall betake
myself elsewhere and give you notice.
CICERO'S VACILLATION IN THE CIVIL WAR
B
EING in extreme agitation about these great and terrible
events, and having no means of discussing matters with you
in person, I want at any rate to avail myself of your judg-
ment. Now the question about which I am in doubt is simply
this: If Pompeius should fly from Italy (which I suspect he will
do), how do you think I ought to act? To make it easier for
you to advise me, I will briefly set forth the arguments that
occur to me on both sides of the question.
The obligations that Pompeius laid me under in the matter of
my restoration, my own intimacy with him, and also my patriot-
ism, incline me to think that I ought to make my decision as
his decision, or in other words, my fortunes as his fortunes.
There is this reason also: If I stay behind and desert my post
among that band of true and illustrious patriots, I must perforce
fall completely under the yoke of one man. Now although he
frequently takes occasion to show himself friendly to me
indeed, as you well know, anticipating this storm that is now
hanging over our heads, I took good care that he should be so
long ago-still I have to consider two different questions: first,
how far can I trust him; and secondly,―assuming it to be abso-
lutely certain that he is friendly disposed to me,- would it show
the brave man or the honest citizen to remain in a city where
one has filled the highest offices of peace and war, achieved
immortal deeds, and been crowned with the honors of her most
――――


## p. 3708 (#64) ############################################

3708
MARCUS TULLIUS CICERO
dignified priesthood, only to become an empty name and undergo
some risk, attended also very likely with considerable disgrace,
should Pompeius ever again grasp the helm? So much for this
side; see now what may be said on the other.
Pompeius has in our cause done nothing wisely, nothing
strongly; nothing, I may add, that has not been contrary to my
opinion and advice. I pass over those old complaints, that it
was he who himself nourished this enemy of the republic, gave
him his honors, put the sword into his hand-that it was he
who advised him to force laws through by violence, trampling on
the warnings of religion-that it was he who made the addi-
tion of Transalpine Gaul, he who is his son-in-law, he who as
Augur allowed the adoption of Clodius; who showed more activity
in recalling me than in preventing my exile; who took it on him
to extend Cæsar's term of government; who supported all his
proceedings while he was away; that he too even in his third
consulship, after he had begun to pose as a defender of the con-
stitution, actually exerted himself to get the ten tribunes to pro-
pose that absence should not invalidate the election; nay more,
he expressly sanctioned this by one of his own acts, and opposed
the consul Marcus Marcellus, who proposed that the tenure of
the Gallic provinces should come to an end on the 1st of March
— but anyhow, to pass over all this, what could be more dis-
creditable, what more blundering, than this evacuation of the
city, or I had better say, this ignominious flight? What terms
ought not to have been accepted sooner than abandon our coun-
try? The terms were bad? That I allow; but is anything worse
than this? But he will win back the constitution? When?
What preparations have been made to warrant such a hope?
Have we not lost all Picenum? have we not left open the road
to the capital? have we not abandoned the whole of our treasure,
public and private, to the foe? In a word, there is no common
cause, no strength, no centre, to draw such people together as
might yet care to show fight for the Republic. Apulia has been
chosen the most thinly populated part of Italy, and the most
remote from the line of movement of this war: it would seem
that in despair they were looking for flight, with some easy
access to the coast. I took the charge of Capua much against
my will not that I would evade that duty, but in a cause which
evoked no sympathy from any class as a whole, nor any openly
even from individuals (there was some of course among the good
—
――


## p. 3709 (#65) ############################################

MARCUS TULLIUS CICERO
3709
citizens, but as languid as usual), and where I saw for myself
that the mass of the people, and all the lowest stratum, were
more and more inclined to the other side, many even longing for
a revolution, I told him to his face I would undertake to do
nothing without forces and without money. Consequently I have
had no responsibility at all, because I saw from the very first
that nothing was really intended but flight. Say that I now
follow this; then whither? Not with him; I had already set out
to join him when I found that Cæsar was in those parts, so that
I could not safely reach Luceria. I must sail by the western
sea, in the depth of winter, not knowing where to steer for.
And again, what about being with my brother, or leaving him
and taking my son? How then must I act, since either alterna-
tive will involve the greatest difficulty, the greatest mental
anxiety? And then, too, what a raid he will make on me and
my fortunes when I am out of the way-fiercer than on other
people, because he will think perhaps that in outrages on me he
holds a means of popularity. Again, these fetters, remember,-
I mean these laurels on my attendants' staves,- how inconvenient
it is to take them out of Italy! What place indeed will be safe
for me, supposing I now find the sea calm enough, before I
have actually joined him? though where that will be and how
to get there, I have no notion.
On the other hand, say that I stop where I am and find
some place on this side of the water, then my conduct will pre-
cisely resemble that of Philippus, or Lucius Flaccus, or Quintus
Mucius under Cinna's reign of terror. And however this decision
ended for the last-named, yet still he at any rate used to say
that he saw what really did happen would occur, but that it was
his deliberate choice in preference to marching sword in hand
against the homes of the very city that gave him birth. With
Thrasybulus it was otherwise, and perhaps better; but still there
is a sound basis for the policy and sentiments of Mucius; as
there is also for this [which Philippus did]: to wait for your
opportunity when you must, just as much as not to lose your
opportunity when it is given. But even in this case, those staves
again of my attendants still involve some awkwardness; for say
that his feelings are friendly to me (I am not sure that this is
so, but let us assume it), then he will offer me a triumph. I
fear that to decline may be perilous [to accept] an offense with
all good citizens. Ah, you exclaim, what a difficult, what an


## p. 3710 (#66) ############################################

3710
MARCUS TULLIUS CICERO
insoluble problem! Yet the solution must be found; for what
can one do? And lest you should have formed the idea that I
am rather inclined towards staying because I have argued more
on that side of the question, it is quite possible, as is so fre-
quently the case in debates, that one side has more words, the
other more worth. Therefore I should be glad if when you give
me your opinion you would look upon me as making up my
mind quite dispassionately on a most important question. I have
a ship both at Caieta and at Brundisium.
But lo and behold, while I am writing you these very lines
by night in my house at Cales, in come the couriers, and here is
a letter to say that Cæsar is before Corfinium, and that in Cor-
finium is Domitius, with an army resolute and even eager for
battle. I do not think our chief will go so far as to be guilty
of abandoning Domitius, though it is true he had already sent
Scipio on before with two cohorts to Brundisium, and written a
dispatch to the consuls ordering that the legion enrolled by
Faustus should go under the command of one consul to Sicily:
but it is a scandal that Domitius should be left to his fate when
he is imploring him for help. There is some hope, not in my
opinion a very good one, but strong in these parts, that there
has been a battle in the Pyrenees between Afranius and Tre-
bonius; that Trebonius has been beaten off; that your friend
Fabius also has come over to us with all his troops; and to
crown it all, that Afranius is advancing with a strong force. If
this be so, we shall perhaps make a stand in Italy. As for me,
since Cæsar's route is uncertain - he is expected about equally by
way of Capua and of Luceria-I have sent Lepta to Pompeius
with a letter, while I myself, for fear of falling in with him any-
where, have started again for Formiæ. I thought it best to let
you know this, and am writing with more composure than I have
written of late; not inserting any opinion of my own, but trying
to elicit yours.


## p. 3711 (#67) ############################################

MARCUS TULLIUS CICERO
3711
CICERO'S CORRESPONDENTS
IT SEEMS desirable to add a few letters by other hands than
Cicero's, to indicate the manifold side-lights thrown on the inner his-
tory of this intensely interesting period. Sulpicius's famous attempt
at consolation has already been given above. Two brief letters by
Cæsar will illustrate the dictator's marvelous ability to comprehend
and control other men. Pompey's gruff rudeness forms a contrast
which is hardly accidental on the editor's part. Cælius's wit is bit-
ing as ever; and lastly, Matius's protest against being persecuted
merely because he, who loved Cæsar, openly mourned for his dead
friend, has an unconscious tone of simple heroism unequaled in the
entire correspondence.
W. C. L.
CÆSAR TO CICERO
know me too well not to keep up your character as an
Yugur by divining that nothing is more entirely alien from
my nature than cruelty: I will add that while my decision
is in itself a great source of pleasure to me, to find my conduct
approved by you is a triumph of gratification. Nor does the fact
at all disturb me that those people whom I have set at liberty
are reported to have gone their ways only to renew the attack
upon me; because there is nothing I wish more than that I may
ever be as true to my own character as they to theirs.
May I hope that you will be near town when I am there, so
that I may as usual avail myself in everything of your advice
and means of assistance? Let me assure you that I am charmed
beyond everything with your relation Dolabella, to whom I shall
acknowledge myself indeed indebted for this obligation; for his
kindliness is so great, and his feeling and affection for me are
such, that he cannot possibly do otherwise.
CÆSAR TO CICERO
HOUGH I had fully made up my mind that you would do
nothing rashly, nothing imprudently, still I was so far im-
pressed by the rumors in some quarters as to think it my
duty to write to you, and ask it as a favor due to our mutual
regard that you will not take any step, now that the scale is so
decisively turned, which you would not have thought it necessary


## p. 3712 (#68) ############################################

MARCUS TULLIUS CICERO
3712
to take even though the balance still stood firm. For it will
really be both a heavier blow to our friendship, and a step on
your part still less judicious for yourself, if you are to be thought
not even to have bowed the knee to success for things seem to
have fallen out as entirely favorably for us as disastrously for
them; nor yet to have been drawn by attachment to a particu-
lar cause for that has undergone no change since you decided
to remain aloof from their counsels; - but to have passed a stern
judgment on some act of mine, than which, from you, no more
painful thing could befall me; and I claim the right of our
friendship to entreat that you will not take this course.
Finally, what more suitable part is there for a good peace-
loving man, and a good citizen, than to keep aloof from civil
dissensions? There were not a few who admired this course, but
could not adopt it by reason of its danger: you, after having
duly weighed both the conclusions of friendship and the unmis-
takable evidence of my whole life, will find that there is no
safer nor
more honorable course than to keep entirely aloof
from the struggle.
-
POMPEY TO CICERO
-
TOD
O-DAY, the 10th of February, Fabius Vergilianus has joined
me. From him I learn that Domitius with his eleven
cohorts, and fourteen cohorts that Vibullius has brought
up, is on his way to me. His intention was to start from Cor-
finium on the 13th, Hirrus to follow soon after with five of the
cohorts. I decide that you are to come to us at Luceria; here,
I think, you will be most in safety.
CELIUS IN ROME TO CICERO IN CILICIA
THE
HE capture of his Parthian Majesty and the storming of Se-
leuceia itself had not been enough to compensate for missing
the sight of our doings here. Your eyes would never have
ached again if you had only seen the face of Domitius when he
was not elected! The election was important, and it was quite
clear that party feeling determined the side which people took:
only a few could be brought to acknowledge the claims of friend-
ship. Consequently Domitius is so furious with me that he
arcely hates any of his most intimate friends as much as he
scar


## p. 3713 (#69) ############################################

MARCUS TULLIUS CICERO
3713
does me; and all the more because he thinks that it was to do
him wrong that his hopes of being in the College of Augurs are
snatched away, and that I am responsible for it. He is savage
now to see everybody so delighted at his mortification, and
myself more active than anybody, with one exception, on behalf
of Antonius.
As to political prospects, I have often mentioned to you that
I do not see any chance of peace lasting a year; and the nearer
that struggle which must infallibly take place, is drawing to us,
the more manifest does its danger become. The point at issue
about which our lords and masters are going to fight is this:
Pompeius has absolutely determined not to allow Cæsar to be
elected consul on any terms except a previous resignation of his
army and his government, while Cæsar is convinced that he
must inevitably fall if he separates himself from his army. He
offers however this compromise, that they should both of them
resign their armies. So you see their great affection for one
another and their much-abused alliance has not even dwindled
down into suppressed jealousy, but has broken out into open
war. Nor can I discover what is the wisest course to take in
my own interests: a question which I make no doubt will give
much trouble to you also. For while I have both interest and
connections among those who are on one side, on the other too it
is the cause and not the men themselves I dislike. You are not, I
feel sure, blind to the fact that where parties are divided within
a country, we are bound, so long as the struggle is carried on
with none but constitutional weapons, to support the more honor-
able cause, but when we come to blows and to open war, then
the safer one; and to count that cause the better which is the
less likely to be dangerous. In the present division of feeling I
see that Pompeius will have the Senate and all judicially minded
people on his side; those who have everything to dread and little
to hope for will flock to Cæsar: the army is not to be compared.
On the whole, we have plenty of time for balancing the strength
of parties and making our decision.
I had all but forgotten my principal reason for writing. Have
you heard of the wonderful doings of our censor Appius-how
he is rigorously inquiring into our statues and pictures, our
amount of land, and our debts? He has persuaded himself that
his censorship is a moral soap or toilet powder. He is wrong, I
take it; for while he only wants to wash off the dirt, he is really
Vi-233


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MARCUS TULLIUS CICERO
3714
laying bare his veins and his flesh. Heaven and earth! you
must run, and come to laugh at the things here - Appius ques-
tioning about pictures and statues. You must make haste, I
assure you.
Our friend Curio is thought to have acted wisely in giving
way about the pay of Pompeius's troops. If I must sum up my
opinion, as you ask, about what will happen-unless one or
other of them consents to go and fight the Parthians, I see a
great split impending, which will be settled by the sword and
by force; each is well inclined for this and well equipped. If it
could only be without danger to yourself, you would find this a
great and most attractive drama which Fortune is rehearsing.
MATIUS TO CICERO
I
RECEIVED great pleasure from your letter, because I found that
your opinion of me was what I had hoped and wished it to
be; not that I was in any doubt about it, but for the very
reason that I valued it so highly, I was most anxious that it
should remain unimpaired. Conscious however that I had done
nothing which could give offense to the feelings of any good.
citizen, I was naturally the less inclined to believe that you,
adorned as you are with so many excellences of the most admi-
rable kind, could have allowed yourself to be convinced of any-
thing on mere idle report; particularly seeing that you were a
friend for whom my spontaneous attachment had been and still
was unbroken. And knowing now that it has been as I hoped,
I will answer those attacks which you have often opposed on my
behalf, as was fairly to be expected from your well-known gen-
erosity and the friendship existing between us.
For I am well aware of all they have been heaping on me
since Cæsar's death. They make it a reproach against me that I
go heavily for the loss of a friend, and think it cruel that one
whom I loved should have fallen, because, say they, country
must be put before friends-as though they have hitherto been
successful in proving that his death really was the gain of the
commonwealth. But I will not enter any subtle plea; I admit
that I have not attained to your higher grades of philosophy: for
I have neither been a partisan of Cæsar in our civil dissensions,
-
- though I did not abandon my friend even when his action


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MARCUS TULLIUS CICERO
3715
was a stumbling-block to me,- nor did I ever give my approval
to the civil war, or even to the actual ground of quarrel, of
which indeed I earnestly desired that the first sparks should be
trampled out. And so in the triumph of a personal friend I
was never ensnared by the charms either of place or of money;
prizes which have been recklessly abused by the rest, though they
had less influence with him than I had. I may even say that
my own private property was impaired by that act of Cæsar,
thanks to which many of those who are rejoicing at Cæsar's
death continued to live in their own country. That our defeated
fellow countrymen should be spared was as much an object to
me as my own safety. Is it possible then for me, who wanted
all to be left uninjured, not to feel indignation that he by whom
this was secured is dead? above all when the very same men
were the cause at once of his unpopularity and his untimely end.
You shall smart then, say they, since you dare to disapprove of
our deed. What unheard-of insolence! One man then may
boast of a deed, which another is not even allowed to lament
without punishment. Why, even slaves have always been free
of this - to feel their fears, their joys, their sorrows as their
own, and not at anybody else's dictation; and these are the very
things which now, at least according to what your "liberators »
have always in their mouths, they are trying to wrest from us
by terrorism. But they try in vain. There is no danger which
has terrors enough ever to make me desert the side of gratitude
or humanity; for never have I thought that death in a good
cause is to be shunned, often indeed that it deserves to be
courted. But why are they inclined to be enraged with me, if
my wishes are simply that they may come to regret their deed,
desiring as I do that Cæsar's death may be felt to be untimely
by us all? It is my duty as a citizen to desire the preservation
of the constitution? Well, unless both my life in the past and
all my hopes for the future prove without any words of mine
that I do earnestly desire this, I make no demand to prove it
by my professions.
-
To you therefore I make a specially earnest appeal to let
facts come before assertions, and to take my word for it that, if
you feel that honesty is the best policy, it is impossible I should
have any association with lawless villains.
Or can you
believe
that the principles I pursued in the days of my youth, when
even error could pass with some excuse, I shall renounce now


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3716
MARCUS TULLIUS CICERO
that I am going down the hill, and with my own hands unravel
all the web of my life? That I will not do; nor yet will I com-
mit any act that could give offense, beyond the fact that I do
lament the sad fall of one who was to me the dearest friend
and the most illustrious of men. But were I otherwise disposed,
I would never deny what I was doing, lest it should be thought
I was at once shameless in doing wrong and false and cowardly
in dissembling it.
But then I undertook the management of those games which
Cæsar's heir celebrated for Cæsar's victory? Well, this is a mat-
ter which belongs to one's private obligations, not to any politi-
cal arrangement; it was however in the first place a tribute of
respect which I was called upon to pay to the memory and the
eminent position of a man whom I dearly loved, even though he
was dead, and also one that I could not refuse at the request of
a young man so thoroughly promising, and so worthy in every
way of Cæsar as he is.
Again, I have frequently paid visits of compliment to the con-
sul Antonius. And you will find that the very men who think
me but a lukewarm patriot are constantly going to his house
in crowds, actually for the purpose of soliciting or carrying away
some favor. But what a monstrous claim it is, that while Cæsar
never laid any such embargo as this to prevent me from associ-
ating freely with anybody I pleased, even if they were people
whom he personally did not like,-these men who have robbed
me of my friend should attempt by malicious insinuations to
prevent my showing a kindness to whomsoever I will!
I have however no fear that the moderation of my life will
hereafter prove an insufficient defense against false insinuations,
and that even those who do not love me, because of my loyalty
to Cæsar, would not rather have their own friend imitate me
than themselves. Such of life as remains to me, at least if I
succeed in what I desire, I shall spend in quiet at Rhodes; but
if I find that some chance has put a stop to this, I shall simply
live at Rome as one who is always desirous that right should be
done.
I am deeply grateful to our good friend Trebatius for having
thus disclosed to me your sincere and friendly feeling, and given
me even an additional reason for honoring and paying respect
to one whom it has always been a pleasure to me to regard as
a friend. Farewell heartily, and let me have your esteem.


## p. 3717 (#73) ############################################

MARCUS TULLIUS CICERO
THE DREAM OF SCIPIO
From the Dialogue (The Republic: Translation of Prof. T. R. Lounsbury.
Copyrighted by Ginn & Co.
--
3717
WHE
HEN I went into Africa with the consul Manius Manilius,
holding the rank, as you are aware, of military tribune
of the fourth legion, nothing lay nearer to my heart than
to meet Masinissa, a king who, for good reasons, was on the
most friendly terms with our family. When I had come to him,
the old man embraced me with tears, and then looking up to
heaven, said: "I give thanks to thee, O supremest Sol, and to
you, ye inhabitants of heaven! that before I depart this life I
behold in my dominions, and under this roof, Publius Cornelius
Scipio, by whose very name I am revived: so never passes away
from my mind the memory of that best and most invincible hero. "
Thereupon I made inquiries of him as to the state of his own
kingdom, and he of me as to our republic; and with many words
uttered on both sides, we spent the whole of that day.
Moreover, after partaking of a repast prepared with royal
magnificence, we prolonged the conversation late into the night.
The old man would speak of nothing but Africanus, and remem-
bered not only all his deeds, but likewise his sayings. After
we parted to go to bed, a sounder sleep than usual fell upon
me, partly on account of weariness occasioned by the journey,
and partly because I had stayed up to a late hour. Then Africa-
nus appeared to me, I think in consequence of what we had
been talking about; for it often happens that our thoughts and
speeches bring about in sleep something of that illusion of which
Ennius writes in regard to himself and Homer, of which poet
he was very often accustomed to think and speak while awake.
Africanus showed himself to me in that form which was better
known to me from his ancestral image than from my recollection
of his person. As soon as I recognized him I was seized with
a fit of terror; but he thereupon said:
"Be of good courage, O Scipio! Lay aside fear, and commit
to memory these things which I am about to say. Do you see
that State which, compelled by me to submit to the Roman
people, renews its former wars, and cannot endure to remain at
peace ? »
At these words, from a certain lustrous and bright
place, very high and full of stars, he pointed out to me Carthage.