No More Learning

Need I fear that you can long do without that which you used to worship when going out to murder, and from whose altars you have often transferred your impious hand to the slaughter of citizens ?
You will go at last where your unbridled and mad desire has been long hurrying you. And this causes you no grief, but an incredible pleasure. Nature has formed you, desire has trained you, fortune has preserved you for this insanity. Not
CICERO'S SPEECH ON CATILINE'S CONSPIRACY. 181
only did you never desire quiet, but you never even desired any war but a criminal one ; you have collected a band of profligates and worthless men, abandoned not only by all for tune but even by hope.
Then what happiness will you enjoy ! with what delight will you exult ! in what pleasure will you revel ! when in so numerous a body of friends, you neither hear nor see one good man. All the toils you have gone through have always pointed to this sort of life ; your lying on the ground not merely to lie in wait to gratify your unclean desires, but even to accom plish crimes ; your vigilance, not only when plotting against the sleep of husbands, but also against the goods of your mur dered victims, have all been preparations for this. Now you have an opportunity of displaying your splendid endurance of hunger, of cold, of want of everything ; by which in a short time you will find yourself worn out. All this I effected when I procured your rejection from the consulship, that you should be reduced to make attempts on your country as an exile, in stead of being able to distress it as consul, and that that which
had been wickedly undertaken by you should be called piracy rather than war.
Now that I may remove and avert, O conscript fathers, any in the least reasonable complaint from myself, listen, I beseech you, carefully to what I say, and lay it up in your inmost hearts and minds. In truth, if my country, which is far dearer to me than my life"— if all Italy — if the whole republic were to address me, Marcus Tullius, what are you doing ? will you permit that man to depart whom you have ascertained to be an enemy ? whom you see ready to become the general of the war ? whom you know to be expected in the camp of the enemy as their chief, the author of all this wickedness, the head of the conspiracy, the instigator of the slaves and abandoned citizens, so that he shall seem not driven out of the city by you, but let loose by you against the city ? Will you not order him
to be thrown into prison, to be hurried off to execution, to be put to death with the most prompt severity? What hinders you ? Is it the customs of our ancestors ? But even private men have often in this republic slain mischievous citizens. Is it the laws which have been passed about the punishment of Roman citizens? But in this city those who have rebelled against the republic have never had the rights of citizens. Do you fear odium with posterity ? You are showing fine grati
182 CICERO'S SPEECH ON CATILINE'S CONSPIRACY.
tude to the Roman people which has raised you, a man known only by your own actions, of no ancestral renown, through all the degrees of honor at so early an age to the very highest office, if from fear of unpopularity or of any danger you neglect the safety of your fellow-citizens. But if you have a fear of unpopularity, is that arising from the imputation of vigor and boldness, or that arising from that of inactivity and indecision most to be feared? When Italy is laid waste by war, when cities are attacked and houses in flames, do you not think that you will be then consumed by a perfect conflagration of hatred? "
To this holy address of the republic, and to the feelings of those men who entertain the same opinion, I will make this short answer : If, O conscript fathers, I thought it best that Catiline should be punished with death, I would not have given the space of one hour to this gladiator to live in. If, forsooth, those excellent men and most illustrious cities not only did not pollute themselves, but even glorified themselves by the blood of Saturninus, and the Gracchi, and Flaccus, and many others of old time, surely I had no cause to fear lest for slaying this parricidal murderer of the citizens any unpopular ity should accrue to me with posterity. And if it did threaten me to ever so great a degree, yet I have always been of the disposition to think unpopularity earned by virtue and glory, not unpopularity.
Though there are some men in this body who either do not see what threatens, or dissemble what they do see ; who have fed the hope of Catiline by mild sentiments, and have strength ened the rising conspiracy by not believing it ; influenced by whose authority many, and they not wicked, but only igno rant, if I punished him would say that I had acted cruelly and tyrannically. But I know that if he arrives at the camp of Manlius, to which he is going, there will be no one so stupid as not to see that there has been a conspiracy, no one so hard ened as not to confess it. But if this man alone were put to death, I know that this disease of the republic would be only checked for a while, not eradicated forever. But if he ban ishes himself, and takes with him all his friends, and collects at one point all the ruined men from every quarter, then not only will this full-grown plague of the republic be extinguished and eradicated, but also the root and seed of all future evils.
We have now for a long time, O conscript fathers, lived
CICERO'S SPEECH ON CATILINE'S CONSPIRACY. 188
among these dangers and machinations of conspiracy ; but somehow or other, the ripeness of all wickedness, and of this long-standing madness and audacity, has come to a head at the time of my consulship. But if this man alone is removed from this piratical crew, we may appear, perhaps, for a short time relieved from fear and anxiety, but the danger will settle down and lie hid in the veins and bowels of the republic. As it often happens that men afflicted with a severe disease, when they are tortured with heat and fever, if they drink cold water, seem at first to be relieved, but afterward suffer more and more severely ; so this disease which is in the republic, if relieved by the pun ishment of this man, will only get worse and worse, as the rest will be still alive.
Wherefore, O conscript fathers, let the worthless begone — let them separate themselves from the good — let them collect in one place — let them, as I have often said before, be separated from us by a wall ; let them cease to plot against the consul in his own house — to surround the tribunal of the city pretor — to besiege the senate house with swords — to prepare brands and torches to burn the city ; let it, in short, be written on the brow of every citizen, what are his sentiments about the repub lic. I promise you this, O conscript fathers, that there shall be so much diligence in us the consuls, so much authority in you, so much virtue in the Roman knights, so much unanimity in all good men, that you shall see everything made plain and manifest by the departure of Catiline — everything checked and punished.
With these omens, O Catiline, begone to your impious and nefarious war, to the great safety of the republic, to your own misfortune and injury, and to the destruction of those who have joined themselves to you in every wickedness and atrocity. Then do you, O Jupiter, who were consecrated by Romulus with the same auspices as this city, whom we rightly call the stay of this city and empire, repel this man and his companions from your altars and from the other temples — from the houses and walls of the city — from the lives and fortunes of all the citizens ; and overwhelm all the enemies of good men, the foes of the republic, the robbers of Italy, men bound together by a treaty and infamous alliance of crimes, dead and alive, with eternal punishments.
184
THE DYING GLADIATOR.
THE DYING GLADIATOR. By LORD BYRON.
The seal is set. — Now welcome, thou dread power ! Nameless, yet this omnipotent, which here
Walk'st in the shadow of the midnight hour With a deep awe, yet all distinct from fear ; Thy haunts are ever where the dead walls rear
Their ivy mantles, and the solemn scene Derives from thee a sense so deep and clear
That we become a part of what has been, And grow unto the spot, all-seeing but unseen.
And here the buzz of eager nations ran,
In murmured pity or loud-roared applause,
As man was slaughtered by his fellow-man.
And wherefore slaughtered ? wherefore, but because Such were the bloody Circus' genial laws,
And the imperial pleasure. — Wherefore not ? What matters where we fall to fill the maws
Of worms — on battle plains or listed spot ? Both are but theaters where the chief actors rot.
I see before me the Gladiator lie :
He leans upon his hand ; his manly brow
Consents to death, but conquers agony,
And his drooped head sinks gradually low ;
And through his side the last drops, ebbing slow
From the red gash, fall heavy, one by one,
Like the first of a thunder-shower, — and now
The arena swims around him — he is gone,
Ere ceased the inhuman shout that hailed the wretch who
He heard but he heeded not — his eyes Were with his heart, and that was far away
He recked not of the life he lost, nor prize, But where his rude hut by the Danube lay, There were his young barbarians all at play,
There was their Dacian mother he, their sire, Butchered to make a Roman holiday
All this gushed with his blood. — Shall he expire, And unavenged Arise, ye Goths, and glut your ire
?
!
;
;
;
it,
CJESAR'S FIRST INVASION OF BRITAIN. 185
CESAR'S FIRST INVASION OF BRITAIN.
(The " Commentaries. ")
[Caius Julius Cesak, founder of the Roman monarchy, was born b. c. 100 and murdered b. c. 44. He was of an important family; engaged in politics with a profligacy and unscrupulousness equal to those of any other politician of his time, but with more humanity and generosity than most, and more sagacity and executive ability than any others ; became a great military leader, and on his rival Fompey inducing the senate to remove him from the command, refused obedience, invaded Italy, overthrew the Republic, and made himself dictator (b. c. 49). After crushing all resistance, he was made perpetual dictator early in b. c 44, — king in all but name ; this aroused the friends of popular freedom to take his life, which was done in March of the same year. His literary repute rests on his " Commentaries," a report of his campaigns in Gaul, Germany, and
Britain. ]
Though but a small part of the summer now remained, Caesar resolved to pass over into Britain, having certain intelligence that in all his wars with the Gauls the enemies of the Common wealth had ever received assistance from thence. . . .
Meanwhile the Britons having notice of his design by the merchants that resorted to their island, ambassadors from many of their states came to Caesar, with an offer of hostages, and submission to the authority of the people of Rome. To these he gave a favorable audience, and, exhorting them to continue in the same mind, sent them back into their own country. Along with them he dispatched Comius, whom he had consti tuted king of the Atrebatians — a man in whose virtue, wisdom, and fidelity he greatly confided, and whose authority in the island was very considerable. To him he gave it in charge to visit as many states as he could, and persuade them to enter into an alliance with the Romans, letting them know at the same time that Caesar designed as soon as possible to come over in person to their island.
Having got together about eighty transports, which he thought would be sufficient for the carrying over two legions, he distributed the galleys he had over and above to the questor, lieutenants, and officers of the cavalry. There were, in addi tion, eighteen transports detained by contrary winds at a port about eight miles off, which he appointed to carry over the cavalry.
Things being in this manner settled, and the winds springing up fair, he weighed anchor about one in the morning, ordering
186 CESAR'S FIRST INVASION OF BRITAIN.
the cavalry to embark at the other port and follow him. But, as these orders were executed but slowly, he himself about ten in the morning reached the coast of Britain, where he saw all the cliffs covered with the enemy's forces. The nature of the place was such that, the sea being bounded by steep mountains, the enemy might easily launch their javelins on us from above. Not thinking this, therefore, a convenient landing place, he resolved to lie by till three in the afternoon, and wait the arrival of the rest of his fleet. Meanwhile, having called the lieutenants and military tribunes together, he informed them of what he had learned from Volusenus, instructed them in the part they were to act, and particularly exhorted them to do everything with readiness, and at a signal given, agreeable to the rules of military discipline, which in sea affairs especially required expedition and dispatch, because of all others the most changeable and uncertain. Having dismissed them, and finding both the wind and tide favorable, he made the signal for weigh ing anchor, and after sailing about eight miles further, stopped over against a plain and open shore.
But the barbarians, perceiving our design, sent their cavalry and chariots before, which they frequently make use of in battle, and, following with the rest of their forces, endeavored to oppose our landing. And indeed we found the difficulty very great on many accounts ; for our ships, being large, required a great depth of water ; and the soldiers, who were wholly unac quainted with the places, and had their hands embarrassed and laden with a weight of armor, were at the same time to leap from the ships, stand breast-high amidst the waves, and en counter the enemy, while they, fighting on dry ground, or advancing only a little way into the water, having the free use of all their limbs, and in places which they perfectly knew, could boldly cast their darts and spur on their horses, well inured to that kind of service. All these circumstances serving to spread a terror among our men, who were wholly strangers to this way of fighting, they pushed not the enemy with the same vigor and spirit as was usual for them in combats on dry ground.
Caesar, observing this, ordered some galleys — a kind of shipping less common with the barbarians, and more easily governed and put in motion — to advance a little from the transports towards the shore, in order to set on the enemy in flank, and, by means of their engines, slings, and arrows, drive
CiESAR'S FIRST INVASION OF BRITAIN. 187
them to some distance. This proved of considerable service to our men, for, what with the surprise occasioned by the make of our galleys, the motion of the oars, and the playing of the engines, the enemy were forced to halt, and in a little time began to give back. But our men still demurring to leap into the sea, chiefly because of the depth of the water in those parts, the standard bearer of the tenth legion, having first invoked the gods for success, cried out aloud : " Follow me, fellow-soldiers, unless you will betray the Roman eagle into the hands of the enemy : for my part, I am resolved to discharge my duty to Caesar and the Commonwealth. " On this he jumped into the sea, and advanced with the eagle against the enemy ; whereat, our men exhorting one another to prevent so signal a disgrace, all that were in the ship followed him ; which being perceived by those in the nearest vessels, they also did the like, and boldly approached the enemy.
The battle was obstinate on both sides; but our men, as being neither able to keep their ranks, nor get firm footing, nor follow their respective standards, —because, leaping pro miscuously from their ships, every one joined the first ensign he met, — were thereby thrown into great confusion. The enemy, on the other hand, being well acquainted with the shal lows, when they saw our men advancing singly from the ships, spurred on their horses, and attacked them in that perplexity. In one place great numbers would gather round a handful of the Romans ; others, falling on them in flank, galled them mightily with their darts, which Caesar observing, ordered some small boats to be manned, and ply about with recruits. By this means the foremost ranks of our men, having got firm footing, were followed by all the rest, when, falling on the enemy briskly, they were soon put to the rout. But, as the cavalry were not yet arrived, we could not pursue or advance far into the island, which was the only thing wanting to render the vic tory complete.
The enemy, being thus vanquished in battle, no sooner got together after their defeat than they dispatched ambassadors to Caesar to sue for peace, offering hostages, and an entire sub mission to his commands. Along with these ambassadors came Comius, the Atrebatian, whom Caesar, as we have related above, had sent before him into Britain. The natives seized him as soon as he landed, and, though he was charged with a commis sion from Caesar, threw him into irons. But on their late
188 CESAR'S FIRST INVASION OF BRITAIN.
defeat they thought proper to send him back, throwing the blame of what had happened on the multitude, and begged of Caesar to excuse a fault proceeding from ignorance. Caesar, after some complaints of their behavior, in that, having of their own accord sent ambassadors to the continent to sue for peace, they had yet without any reason begun a war against him, told them at last he would forgive their fault, and ordered them to send a certain number of hostages. Part were sent immediately, and the rest, as living at some distance, they promised to deliver in a few days. Meantime they dis banded their troops, and the several chiefs came to Caesar's camp, to manage their own concerns and those of the states to which they belonged.
A peace being thus concluded four days after Caesar's arri val in Britain, the eighteen transports appointed to carry the cavalry, of whom we have spoken above, put to sea with a gentle gale. But when they had so near approached the coast as to be even within view of the camp, so violent a storm all on a sudden arose, that, being unable to hold on their course, some were obliged to return to the port whence they set out, and others driven to the lower end of the island, westward, not without great danger. There they cast anchor ; but, the waves rising very high, so as to fill the ships with water, they were again in the night obliged to stand out to sea, and make for the continent of Gaul. That very night it happened to be full moon, when the tides on the seacoast always rise highest — a thing at that time wholly unknown to the Romans. Thus at one and the same time the galleys which Caesar made use of to transport his men, and which he had ordered to be drawn up on the strand, were filled with the tide, and the tempest fell furiously on the transports that lay at anchor in the road ; nor was it possible for our men to attempt anything for their preservation. Many of the ships being dashed to pieces, and the rest having lost their anchors, tackle, and rigging, which rendered them altogether unfit for sailing, a general consterna tion spread itself through the camp ; for there were no other ships to carry back the troops, nor any materials to repair those that had been disabled by the tempest. And, as it had been all along Caesar's design to winter in Gaul, he was wholly with out corn to subsist the troops in those parts.
All this being known to the British chiefs who after the battle had repaired to Caesar's camp, to perform the conditions
CESAR'S FIRST INVASION OF BRITAIN. 189
of the treaty, they began to hold conferences among them selves ; and as they plainly saw that the Romans were destitute both of cavalry, shipping, and corn, and easily judged, from the smallness of the camp, that the number of their troops was but inconsiderable — in which notion they were the more con firmed because Caesar, having brought over the legions without baggage, had occasion to inclose but a small spot of ground — they thought this a convenient opportunity for taking up arms, and, by intercepting the Roman convoys, to protract the affair till winter ; being confidently persuaded that by defeating these troops, or cutting off their return, they should effectually put a stop to all future attempts on Britain. Having therefore entered into a joint confederacy, they by degrees left the camp, and began to draw the islanders together ; but Caesar, though he was not yet apprised of their design, yet guessing in part at their intentions, by the disaster which had befallen his fleet, and the delays formed in relation to the hostages, determined to provide against all events. He therefore had corn daily brought into his camp, and ordered the timber of the ships
that had been most damaged to be made use of in repairing the rest, sending to Gaul for what other materials he wanted. As the soldiers were indefatigable in their service, his fleet was soon in a condition to sail, having lost only twelve ships.
During these transactions, the seventh legion being sent out to forage, according to custom, as part were employed in cut ting down the corn, and part in carrying it to the camp, with out suspicion of attack, news was brought to Caesar that a greater cloud of dust than ordinary was seen on that side where the legion was. Caesar, suspecting how matters went, marched with the cohorts that were on guard, ordering two others to succeed in their room, and all the soldiers in the camp to arm and follow him as soon as possible. When he was advanced a little way from the camp, he saw his men over powered by the enemy, and with great difficulty able to sustain the fight, being driven into a small compass, and exposed on every side to the darts of their adversaries. For, as the harvest was gathered in everywhere else, and one only field left, the enemy, suspecting that our men would come thither to forage, had hid themselves during the night in the woods, and waiting till our men had quitted their arms, and dispersed themselves to fall a reaping, they suddenly attacked them, killed some, put
190 CESAR'S FIRST INVASION OP BRITAIN.
the rest into disorder, and began to surround them with their horses and chariots.
Their way of fighting with their chariots is this : First they drive their chariots on all sides, and throw their darts, inso much that, by the very terror of the horses and noise of the wheels, they often break the ranks of the enemy. When they have forced their way into the midst of the cavalry, they quit their chariots, and fight on foot : meantime the drivers retire a little from the combat, and place themselves in such a manner as to favor the retreat of their countrymen, should they be overpowered by the enemy. Thus in action they perform the part both of nimble horsemen and stable infantry ; and by con tinual exercise and use have arrived at that expertness, that in the most steep and difficult places they can stop their horses on a full stretch, turn them which way they please, run along the pole, rest on the harness, and throw themselves back into their chariots with incredible dexterity.
Our men being astonished and confounded with this new way of fighting, Caesar came very timely to their relief ; for on his approach the enemy made a stand, and the Romans began to recover from their fear. This satisfied Caesar for the present, who, not thinking it a proper season to provoke the enemy and bring on a general engagement, stood facing them for some time, and then led back the legions to the camp. The con tinual rains that followed for some days after, both kept the Romans within their intrenchments, and withheld the enemy from attacking us. Meantime the Britons dispatched mes sengers into all parts, to make known to their countrymen the small number of the Roman troops, and the favorable oppor tunity they had of making immense spoils, and freeing their country forever from all future invasions, by storming the enemy's camp. Having by this means got together a great body of infantry and cavalry, they drew towards our intrench ments.
Caesar, though he foresaw that the enemy, if beaten, would in the same manner as before escape the danger by flight, yet, having got about thirty horse, whom Comius, the Atrebatian, had brought over with him from Gaul, he drew up the legions in order of battle before the camp, and falling on the Britons, who were not able to sustain the shock of our men, soon put them to flight. The Romans, pursuing them as long as their strength would permit, made a terrible slaughter, and, setting
BOADICEA.
^191 fire to their houses and villages a great way round, returned to
the camp.
The same day ambassadors came from the enemy to Caesar,
to sue for peace. Caesar doubled the number of hostages he had before imposed on them, and ordered them to be sent over to him into Gaul, because, the equinox coming on, and his ships being leaky, he thought it not prudent to put off his return till winter. A fair wind offering, he set sail a little after midnight, and arrived safe in Gaul. Two of his transports, not being able to reach the same port with the rest, were driven into a haven a little lower in the country.
Only two of the British states sent hostages into Gaul, the rest neglecting to perform the conditions of the treaty. For these successes a thanksgiving of twenty days was decreed by the Senate.
BOADICEA.
By WILLIAM COW PER.
[William Cowpkr, English poet and letter-writer, was born in 1731 and died in 1800. Always acutely sensitive and physically delicate, ill-treatment by "fagging" at school aggravated this into later insanity, from attacks of which he suffered all his life ; he could not undergo the strain of the most quiet methods of earning a living, and subsisted on the charity of relatives, and at last on a pension. His best known works are hymns, "The Task," "John Gilpin's Ride," other small poems, a translation of Homer, and a collection of charming letters. ]
When the British warrior queen, Bleeding from the Roman rods,
Sought with an indignant mien Counsel of her country's gods,
Sage beneath the spreading oak Sat the Druid, hoary chief : Every burning word he spoke
Full of rage and full of grief.
" Princess ! if our aged eyes
Weep upon thy matchless wrongs,
'Tis because resentment ties
All the terrors of our tongues.
BOADICEA.
" Rome shall perish — write the word In the blood that she has spilt;
Perish, hopeless and abhorred, Deep in ruin as in guilt.
" Rome, for empire far renowned, Tramples on a thousand states ;
Soon her pride shall kiss the ground — Hark ! the Gaul is at her gates !
" Other Romans shall arise, Heedless of a soldier's name,
Sounds, not arms, shall win the prize, Harmony the path to fame.
" Then the progeny that springs From the forests of our land,
Armed with thunder, clad with wings, Shall a wider world command.
" Regions Caesar never knew Thy posterity shall sway ; Where his eagles never flew,
None invincible as they. "
Such the bard's prophetic words, Pregnant with celestial fire, Bending as he swept the chords Of his sweet but awful lyre.
She, with all a monarch's pride, Felt them in her bosom glow ;
Rushed to battle, fought, and died ; Dying, hurled them at the foe.
" Ruffians, pitiless as proud,
Heaven awards the vengeance due :
Empire is on us bestowed, Shame and ruin wait on you. "
CORRESPONDENCE OF CICERO. 193
CORRESPONDENCE OF CICERO.
(Translation of G. E. Jeans. )
From Quintus Metellus Celer in Cisalpine Gaul to Cicero at Rome, early in b. c. 62.
[It was usual for a consul to address the people from the rostra on laying down his office. But on Cicero's proposing to do so, one of the new tribunes, Quintus Metellus Nepos, the agent of Pompeius, interposed his veto on the ground that he "had put Roman citizens to death without trial. " Cicero retorted with an oration entitled " Metellina. " This produced the following letter from the brother of Nepos, acting proconsul in Cisalpine Gaul. ]
I trust this will find you in health.
I had certainly supposed that mutual regard, as well as our reconciliation, would have secured me from being attacked and ridiculed in my absence, and my brother Metellus from being persecuted by you in respect of his rights and property, for a mere word. Even if he found but little protection in the respect due to him, yet surely the exalted rank of our family, or my own services to your order and to the state, might have proved an adequate defence. I see now that he has been en trapped, and I have been neglected by the very men in whom such conduct was least becoming. The result is that I, the governor of a province, the general of an army, nay, actually engaged in the conduct of a war, am wearing the garb of sorrow. But since you have thus deliberately acted in defiance alike of all reason and of the courtesy of former times, you must not be surprised if you have cause to rue it. I used to hope that you were not so lightly attached to me and mine ; still, for my part, neither the slight to our family nor the injuries any one may inflict upon me shall ever alienate me from the patriotic cause.
Cicero's Reply to the Preceding.
Allow me to express my good wishes for the prosperity of yourself and your army.
Your letter to me says you had supposed that mutual regard and our reconciliation would have secured you from attack and ridicule on my part. Now what may be the meaning of this, I
fail to see quite clearly. I suspect, however, that some one may vOl. v. — 13
194 CORRESPONDENCE OF CICERO.
have informed you how I, when insisting in the Senate that a considerable party still felt some bitterness at my having been the instrument of saving the country, stated that you had con sented, at the request of some relations whom you could not well refuse, to suppress the encomiums you had intended to honor me with in the Senate. In saying this, however, I added that you and I had shared the duty of saving the consti tution ; for while my part was to defend the capital from intrigues at home and intestine treason, yours was to guard Italy from open attack and secret conspiracy; but that this alliance of ours for so great and glorious a work had been strained by your relations, who, though I had been the means of procuring you a most important and distinguished charge, were afraid of allowing you to pay me any portion of regard in return. As these words of mine showed how much I had looked forward to what you would say, and how entirely I was disappointed, my argument seemed to excite a little amusement, and was followed by a certain amount of laughter, not at you, but rather at my own disappointment, and because I was acknowledging so naively and openly that I had eagerly looked forward to being eulogized by you. And surely what I said cannot but be considered complimentary to you if even in the fullest splendor of my renown and achievements I still longed to have some confirmation of this from your own lips.
And as to your reference to our "mutual regard," I know not what you consider reciprocity in friendship. To me it seems to mean that friendly feeling is as freely rendered as it is expected. In my own case, if I affirm that for your sake I have allowed my claim to your province to be passed over, I shall perhaps seem to you to be trifling with words ; for self- interest really brought about this resolution, and every day I reap therefrom additional fruit and satisfaction. What I do affirm is this — that from the moment I had declined the province in public, I began to cast about how I could best throw it into your hands. As to the balloting between you
I merely wish to
and the others I say nothing :
mise that nothing whatever which my colleague did therein was without my full cognizance. Look at what followed ; at the promptness with which I convoked the Senate that very day when the balloting was over, and the ample terms I must have used in your favor when you yourself told me that my speech not only paid a high compliment to you, but was very
suggest
a sur
CORRESPONDENCE OF CICERO. 195
disparaging to your colleagues.
Nay, the very decree of the Senate passed that day is couched in such terms that as long as it remains extant my services to you cannot possibly be ignored. Then, again, I must beg you to recollect how after your depar ture I spoke about you in the Senate, how I addressed public meetings and how I corresponded with you ; and when you have taken all these things into account, then I must ask you to judge for yourself whether you can fairly say that your late demonstration of coming to Rome was meeting me in a " mutual " spirit. " "
With reference to what you say about a reconciliation between us, I do not understand why you should speak of reconciliation where there has never been an interruption of friendship. As to your brother Metellus not deserving, as you say, to be exposed to attacks from me and all for a single word, I must ask you first of all to believe that I strongly sympathize with your motives in this, and the kindly feeling shown in your brotherly affection, but then to pardon me if for my country's good I have ever opposed your brother; for in patriotism I yield not even to the most ardent of mankind. Nay more, if it prove that I have but been defending my own position against a cruelly unjust attack he himself made upon me, you may well be satisfied that I do not make a personal complaint to you of your brother's injustice to me. For when I had ascertained that he was deliberately aiming a blow delivered with the whole weight of his position as tribune in order to crush me, I applied to your wife Claudia [sister of the notorious Clodius] and your sister Mucia, whose liking for me, owing to my intimacy with Pompeius, I had often tested, to deter him
I know you must have heard, on the last day of the year he put upon me — the consul who had saved the Republic — an insult
from the wrong he proposed doing me. In spite of this, as
which the vilest citizen in the most beggarly office was never yet exposed to ; actually debarring me when laying down my
office from the privilege of a farewell address. Yet this insult of his resulted in a signal honor to myself; for as he would make no concession except that I might take the oath, I pro nounced aloud the truest and noblest of oaths, and as loudly the people in answer solemnly attested that I had sworn this truly.
Yet though I had received this signal affront, on that very day I sent an amicable message to Metellus by our common
196 CORRESPONDENCE OF CICERO.
friends to entreat him to reconsider his attitude toward me. His answer to them was that this was no longer open to him, for that not long before he had publicly expressed his opinion that a man who had punished others unheard ought himself to be debarred the privilege of being heard in his turn. How dignified I how patriotic! A punishment inflicted by the Senate, with the approval of every respectable citizen, on those who would have burned Rome, murdered her magistrates and Senate, and fanned the flames of a widespreading war, he would now inflict on one to whom it was granted to deliver the Senate from murder, the capital from fire, and Italy from civil war.
And so I withstood your brother to his face, for having to answer him in the Senate on the 1st of January about the political situation, I took care to let him know that he would find in me a most resolute and determined opponent. Upon the 3d of January, when he opened the debate upon his pro posal, about one word out of three in his speech was aimed at me or contained a threat against me. Nothing could possibly be more deliberate than his attempt to effect my ruin by any means whatever, and that not by legal trial or argument, but by a violent and bullying attack. Had I not brought spirit and determination to meet his reckless onslaught, who could fail to believe that the resolution displayed in my consulship was due not to deliberation but to chance ?
If you have not hitherto been aware that such was Metellus's attitude toward me, you have a right to think that your brother has suppressed some of the most material circumstances from you ; while, if he has taken you into his counsels at all, I have a right to be credited with having shown great modera tion of temper for not remonstrating with you about this very incident. And if you see now that I was driven into resent ment, not by a word from Metellus, as you represent it, but by his deliberate and bitter animosity against myself, let me point out to you my forbearance, if indifference and laxity about resenting so malicious an attack deserves the name of forbearance. Never once did I speak for any motion attacking your brother in the Senate at all : whenever attention was called to his conduct I supported without rising those who seemed most moderate in their proposals. I will add this too, that though after what had passed I had no reason to take any trouble about the matter, I regarded without disfavor, and indeed supported to the best of my humble ability, the proposal
CORRESPONDENCE OF CICERO. 197
for granting a bill of indemnity to my assailant, on the ground that he was your brother. "
Thus you see that what I have done was not to " attack your brother, but to repel your brother's attacks. Nor has my attachment to yourself been light as you say ; on the contrary, it has been so strong that my friendship for you remains as ever, though I have had to submit to the loss of your attentions. Even at this very moment, all that I have to say in answer to your (I might almost call it) threatening
I for my own part not only make allowance for
letter is this :
your indignation, but applaud it highly, for my own feelings teach me to remember how strong is the influence of brotherly ties. From you I claim a similar candor in judging of my sense of wrong. If I have been bitterly, cruelly, and un reasonably attacked by one who is dear to you, I claim the admission not only that I was in the right to maintain my position, but that I might have called on you — yes, and your army too — to have aided me in so doing. I have ever been
I have now striven hard to convince you that I have been a true friend to you. To those sentiments I still adhere, and so long as you permit me will continue to retain them. I would far rather forget my resentment against your brother from love for you, than permit that resentment in the smallest degree to impair our
desirous of calling you my friend ;
good will to each other.
From Cicero at Dyrrachtum (or Thessalonica) to his Wife Terentia at Rome, Nov. 25, b. c. 58.
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 everybody 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 percep tion awoke has felt the sharpest pangs of sorrow and misery ? Now could I but think, as you tell me, that all this comes in
198 CORRESPONDENCE OF CICERO.
the natural course of things, I could bear it a little easier. But it has been brought about entirely by my own fault, for think ing myself loved by those who were jealous of me, and turning from those who wanted to win me. Yet had I but used my own judgment, and not let the advice of friends who were either weak or perfidious weigh so much with me, we might now be living in perfect happiness.
As it is, since my friends encourage me to hope, I will take care not to let my health be a bad ally to your exertions. I quite understand what a task it is, and how much easier it was to stop at home than to get back there again ; still if we are sure of all the tribunes, and of Lentulus (supposing him to be as zealous as he seems), certainly if we are sure of Pompeius as well, and Caesar too, the case cannot be desperate. About our slaves, we will let it be as you tell me your friends have advised. As to this place, it is true that the epidemic has only just passed off, but I escaped infection while it lasted. Plan- cius, who has been exceedingly kind, presses me to stay with him, and will not part with me yet. My own wish was to be in some more out-of-the-way place in Epirus, where Hispo and his soldiers would not be likely to come, but Plancius will not yet hear of my going ; he hopes he may yet manage to return to Italy himself when I do. If I should ever see that day, and once more return to your arms, and feel that I was restored to you and to myself, I should admit that both your loyalty and mine had been abundantly repaid. Piso's kindness, constancy, and affection are beyond all description. May he reap satis faction from it — reputation I feel certain he will.
As to Quintus, I make no complaint of you, but you are the very two people I should most wish to see living in harmony, especially since there are none too many of you left to 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 fortunes, I entreat you, be a warning
The Dying Gladiator
From the Original Statue in the Museo N. izionale
CORRESPONDENCE OF CICERO. 199
to us not to ruin our boy, 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 neces sary 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.
From Cesar at Brundisium to Cicero at Formls! , early in March, b. c. 49.
I had barely seen our friend Furnius, and was not able to talk to him or hear his news without inconvenience to myself, being, as I am, in a great hurry, indeed actually on the march, and with my troops already gone on in advance, but I could not let the opportunity pass of writing you a letter and getting him to convey it, and with my thanks ; though I have done this already many times, and it seems to me I shall have to do so many times more, so well do you deserve this from me. I must particularly request that, since I trust shortly to come to the neighborhood of Rome, I may see you there to avail myself of your judgment, your influence, your position, and your assistance in all that concerns me. To return to the point : excuse this hurry and the shortness of my letter ; any thing further you will be able to hear from Furnius.
Cicero's Reply to the Preceding, March 18 (? ).
Upon reading your letter — which I received through our friend Furnius — requesting me to stay somewhere within reach of town, I was not so much surprised at your expressing a wish to avail yourself of my " judgment " and my " position," as doubtful of the meaning you intended to convey by my "influence and assistance. " Hope, however, led me to the interpretation of concluding that — as might be expected from one of your admirable, indeed preeminent wisdom — you were anxious that negotiations should be opened on behalf of the
200 CORRESPONDENCE OF CICERO.
tranquillity, peace, and union of our countrymen ; for which purpose I could not but reflect that both by my nature and the part I have played I was well enough suited.
If this be really the case, and if you feel any desire at all to show due consideration for my friend Pompeius, and bring him into harmony once more both with yourself and with the Republic, you will assuredly find no one better fitted for that task than I am ; who have ever given pacific counsels to him, and to the Senate so soon as I found an opportunity. Since the appeal to arms not only have I not taken the smallest part in this war, but have come to the conclusion that by the war a griovous wrong is done to yourself, against whose rightful privileges, granted by special favor of the Roman people, the attacks of the spiteful and jealous were being directed. But just as at that time I not only personally supported your right ful position, but counseled everybody else to lend you their assistance, so now it is the rights of Pompeius for which I am deeply concerned ; because it is now several years since I first selected you men as the objects of my most loyal devotion, with whom I would choose to be united, as I now am, in ties of the closest friendship. Consequently I have this request to make — say rather I implore and beseech you with every plea that I can use — even among your weighty anxieties to allot some time to this consideration also, how I may be allowed by your kind indulgence to show myself a man of honor ; one, in short, who is grateful and affectionate from the recollection of the very great kindness he once received. Even if this con cerned me alone, I should still flatter myself that to me you would grant it; but in my opinion it equally concerns both your own honor and the public welfare, that I, who am one of a very small number, should still be retained in the best possi ble position for promoting the harmony of you two and of our fellow-countrymen.
Though I have already thanked you in the matter of Lentu- lus for being the preserver of a man who had once been mine, yet, for my part, on reading the letter which he has sent me, written in a spirit of the warmest gratitude for your liberality and kindness, I even pictured myself as owing to you the safety which you have granted to him ; and if this shows you that I am of a grateful nature in his case, secure me, I entreat you, some opportunity of showing myself no less so in the case of Pompeius.
CORRESPONDENCE OF CICERO. 201
From Cicero at Formic to Atticus at Rome, March 26, b. c. 49.
[Pompeius haying finally escaped from Brundisium, Caesar was now return ing to Rome by way of Capua and Sinuessa. From the former place he sent the letter here enclosed to Atticus, in answer to one from Cicero expressing admiration of his clemency at Corfinium. ]
Though I have nothing to write to you about, I send this letter that I may leave no day without one. It is reported that Caesar will stop on the 27th at Sinuessa. I now — the 26th — have received a letter from him, wherein this time he " hopes to avail himself of my means of assistance," not merely my " assistance," as in the previous one. In answer to a letter to express my admiration of the generosity he showed at Cor finium, he replied as follows :
Copy of Caesar1 % Letter.
You know me too well not to keep up your character as an augur by divining that nothing is more entirely alien from my
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
nature than cruelty :
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.
From Marcus Antonius to Cicero, May 1 (? ), b. c. 49.
But that I have a strong affection for you — much greater indeed than you suppose — I should not have been greatly alarmed at the rumor which has been published about you,
particularly as
Itook it to be a false one : but my liking for
202 CORRESPONDENCE OF CICERO.
you is far too great to allow me to pretend that even the report, however false, is not to me a matter of great concern. That you will really go across seas I cannot believe when I think of the deep regard you entertain for Dolabella and his admira ble wife, your daughter Tullia, and of the equal regard in which you yourself are held by us all, to whom, upon my word and honor, your name and position are perhaps dearer than they are to yourself. Nevertheless I did not think myself at liberty as a friend to be indifferent to the remarks even of unscrupulous people; and I have been the more eager to act because I hold that the part I have to play has been made more difficult by the coolness between us, which originated more in jealousy on my part than in any injury on yours. For I beg you will thoroughly assure yourself of this, that there is no one for whom my affection is greater than for yourself, with the exception of my dear friend Caesar; and that among Caesar's most honored friends a place is reserved for Marcus Cicero.
Therefore, my dear Cicero, I entreat you to keep your future action entirely open : reject the spurious honor of a man who did you a great wrong that he might afterward lay you under an obligation: do not, on the other hand, fly from one who, even if he shall lose his love for you — and that can never be the case — will none the less make it his study that you should be secure and rich in honors. I have been careful to send Calpurnius, who is my most intimate friend, to you, to let you know that your life and high position are to me a matter of deep concern.
[On the same day Philotimus brought a letter from Caesar, of which this is a copy. ]
From Cssar to Cicero, April 16, b. c. 49.
Though 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 neces sary to take even though the balance still stood firm. For it will really be both a heavier blow to our friendship, and a step
CORRESPONDENCE OF CICERO. 203
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 attach ment to a particular 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 good citizen, than to keep aloof from civil dis sensions ? 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.
From Servtus SuLPicrtrs Rufus at Athens to Cicero at Rome April (? ), b. c. 45.
On the Death of His Daughter.
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 mine 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
I am writing this while on the march, April 16.
204 CORRESPONDENCE OF CICERO.
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 pri vate grief which has befallen you to distress you so terribly? Recollect how fortune has hitherto dealt with us : how we have been 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 conclu sion as that into which I too have frequently fallen, that in these days theirs is not the hardest lot who are permitted pain lessly 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 prospect 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 suit able to your rank out of our young men, one to whose keeping you would feel you could safely entrust 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 consolation I cannot but mention to you, in the hope that it may be allowed to contribute equally toward mitigating your grief. As I was returning from Asia, when sailing from -ZEgina in the direction of Megara, I began to look around me at the various places by which I was surrounded. Behind me was iEgina, in front Megara ; on the right, the Piraeus, on the left,
CORRESPONDENCE OF CICERO. 205
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 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 strength ened 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 encroachment 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 praetor, consul, augur; that she had been the wife of young men of the first rank ; that after enjoying well-
• Byron has alluded to this celebrated description in a passage (" Childe Harold," iv. 44) which will be well worth comparing here in extenso : —
" Wandering in youth I traced the path of him,
The Roman friend of Rome's least mortal mind,
The friend of Tully: as my bark did skim The bright blue waters with a fanning wind Came Megara before me, and behind
JCgina lay, Pirteus on the right,
And Corinth on the left : I lay reclined
Along the prow, and saw all these unite
In ruin, even as he had seen the desolate sight.
" For time hath not rebuilt them, but upreared Barbaric dwellings on their shattered site,
Which only make more mourned and more endeared The few last rays of their far-scattered light,
And the crushed relics of their vanished might. The Roman saw these tombs in his own age,
These sepulchres of cities which excite Sad wonder, and his yet surviving page
The moral lesson bears drawn from such pilgrimage. "
206 CORRESPONDENCE OF CICERO.
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 ad vice ; and be not like those quack physicians who when others are sick boast that they hold the key of the knowledge of medi cine, 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 till this time comes instead of stepping forward by your phi losophy to anticipate that result. And if even those who are low in the grave have any consciousness 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, since such is the condi tion we have come to that even this consideration must per force be obeyed, do not let your conduct induce any one to believe that it is not so much your daughter as the circum stances of the Republic and the victory of others which you are deploring.
I shrink from writing to you of 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 consid eration, 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,
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From Cicero at Astura to Servius Sulpicius Rutus at Athens.
Reply to the Preceding.
Yes, 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 sooth affliction, but you yourself in comforting me showed that you too had no little pain at heart. Your son Servius, how ever, 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 atten tions 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, I may almost call it, in this affliction which comforts me, 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 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 similar calamities were never wanting to any of those other people whom I put before myself as models for imitation. Both Fabius Maxim us, for example, when he lost a son who had held the consulship, the hero of many a famous exploit ; and Lucius 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 find ing a solace in the distinctions they used to earn from their country.
For me, however, after being stripped of all those distinc tions which you yourself recall to me, and which I had won for myself by unparalleled exertions, only that one solace remained
208 CORRESPONDENCE OF CICERO.
which has been torn away. My thoughts were not diverted by work for my friends, or by the administration of affairs of state ;
I could not I felt, as was indeed too true, that I had lost all the harvest of both my industry
there was no pleasure in pleading in the courts ; bear the very sight of the Senate House ;
and my success. But whenever I wanted to recollect that all this was shared with you and other friends I could name, and whenever 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 possibly be ; no greater alleviation can be offered me than a meeting 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 rea sons for 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 dis posed and to you extremely friendly. But admitting this, it is still a matter for much deliberation 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.
CORRESPONDENCE OF CICERO. 209
Fbom Cicero at the House of Matius near Rome, to Atticus at Rome, about April 7, B. C. 44.
On the Murder of Ccesar.
I have come on a visit to the subject of our conversation this morning.