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Letters of Cicero
by Marcus Tullius Cicero
Translated by E. S. Shuckburgh
THE letters of Cicero are of a very varied character. They range
from the most informal communications with members of his
family to serious and elaborate compositions which are practically
treatises in epistolary form. A very large proportion of them were
obviously written out of the mood of the moment, with no thought
of the possibility of publication; and in these the style is
comparatively relaxed and colloquial. Others, addressed to public
characters, are practically of the same nature as his speeches,
discussions of political questions intended to influence public
opinion, and performing a function in the Roman life of the time
closely analogous to that fulfilled at the present day by articles is
the great reviews, or editorials in prominent journals.
In the case of both of these two main groups the interest is
twofold: personal and historical, though it is naturally in the
private letters that we find most light thrown on the character of
the writer. In spite of the spontaneity of these epistles there exists a
great difference of opinion among scholars as to the personality
revealed by them, and both in the extent of the divergence of view
and in the heat of the controversy we are reminded of modern
discussions of the characters of men such as Gladstone or
Roosevelt. It has been fairly said that there is on the whole more
chance of justice to Cicero from the man of the world who
understands how the stress and change of politics lead a statesman
into apparently inconsistent utterances than from the professional
scholar who subjects these utterances to the severest logica1
scrutiny, without the illumination of practical experience.
Many sides of Cicero's life other than the political are reflected in
the letters. From them we can gather a picture of how an ambitious
Roman gentleman of some inherited wealth took to the legal
profession as the regular means of becoming a public figure; of
how his fortune might be increased by fees, by legacies from
friends, clients, and even complete strangers who thus sought to
confer distinction on themselves; of how the governor of o
province could become rich in. a year; of how the sons of Roman
men of wealth gave trouble to their tutors, were sent to Athens, as
to a university in our day, and found an allowance of over $4,000 a
year insufficient for their extravagances. Again, we see the greatest
orator of Rome divorce his wife after thirty years, apparently
because she had been indiscreet or unscrupulous in money matters,
and marry at the age of sixty-three his own ward, a young girl
whose fortune he admitted was the main attraction. The coldness
of temper suggested by these transactions is contradicted in turn by
Cicero's romantic affection for his daughter Tullia, whom he is
never tired of praising for her cleverness and charm, and whose
death almost broke his heart.
Most of Cicero's letters were written in ink on paper or parchment
with a reed pen; a few on tablets of wood or ivory covered with
wax, the marks being cut with a stylus. The earlier letters he wrote
with his own hand, the later were, except in rare cases, dictated to
a secretary. There was, of course, no postal service, so the epistles
were carried by private messengers or by the couriers who were
constantly traveling between the provincial officials and the
capital.
Apart from the letters to Atticus, the collection, arrangement, and
publication of Cicero's correspondence seems to have been due to
Tiro, the learned freedman who served him as secretary, and to
whom some of the letters are addressed. Titus Pormponius Atticus,
who edited the large collection of the letters written to himself,
was a cultivated Roman who lived more than twenty years in
Athens for purposes of study. His zeal for cultivation was
combined with the successful pursuit of wealth; and though Cicero
relied on him for aid and advice in public as well as private
matters, their friendship did not prevent Atticus from being on
good terms with men of the opposite party.
Generous, amiable, and cultured, Atticus was not remarkable for
the intensity of his devotion either to principles or persons. "That
he was the lifelong friend of Cicero," says Professor Tyrrell, "is the
best title which Atticus has to remembrance. As a man he was
kindly, careful, and shrewd, but nothing more: there was never
anything grand or noble in his character. He was the quintessence
of prudent mediocrity."
The period covered by the letters of Cicero is one of the most
interesting and momentous in the history of the world, and these
letters afford a picture of the chief personages and most important
events of that age from the pen of a man who was not only himself
in the midst of the conflict, but who was a consummate literary
artist.
LETTERS
MARCUS TULLIUS CICERO
I
To ATTICUS (AT ATHENS)
ROME, JULY
THE state of things in regard to my candidature, in which I know
that you are supremely interested, is this, as far as can be as yet
conjectured. The only person actually canvassing is P. Sulpicius
Galba. He meets with a good old-fashioned refusal without reserve
or disguise. In the general opinion this premature canvass of his is
not unfavourable to my interests; for the voters generally give as a
reason for their refusal that they are under obligations to me. So I
hope my prospects are to a certain degree improved by the report
getting about that my friends are found to be numerous. My
intention was to begin my own canvass just at the very time that
Cincius tells me that your servant starts with this letter, namely, in
the campus at the time of the tribunician elections on the 17th of
July. My fellow candidates, to mention only those who seem
certain, are Galba and Antonius and Q. Cornificius. At this I
imagine you smiling or sighing. Well, to make you positively smite
your forehead, there are people who actually think that Caesonius
will stand. I don't think Aquilius will, for he openly disclaims it
and has alleged as an excuse his health and his leading position at
the bar. Catiline will certainly be a candidate, if you can imagine a
jury finding that the sun does not shine at noon. As for Aufidius
and Palicanus, I don't think you will expect to hear from me about
them. Of the candidates for this year's election Caesar is
considered certain. Thermus is looked upon as the rival of Silanus.
These latter are so weak both in friends and reputation that it
seems pas impossible to bring in Curius over their heads. But no
one else thinks so. What seems most to my interests is that
Thermus should get in with Caesar. For there is none of those at
present canvassing who, if left over to my year, seems likely to be
a stronger candidate, from the fact that he is commissioner of the
via Flaininia, and when that has been finished, I shall be greatly
relieved to have seen him elected consul this election. Such in
outline is the position of affairs in regard to candidates up to date.
For myself I shall take the greatest pains to carry out all the duties
of a candidate, and perhaps, as Gaul seems to have a considerable
voting power, as soon as business at Rome has come to a standstill
I shall obtain a libera legatio and make an excursion in the course
of September to visit Piso, but so as not to be back later than
January. When I have ascertained the feelings of the nobility I will
write you word. Everything else I hope will go smoothly, at any
rate while my competitors are such as are now in town. You must
undertake to secure for me the entourage of our friend Pompey,
since you are nearer than I. Tell him I shall not be annoyed if he
doesn't come to my election. So much for that business. But there
is a matter for which I am very anxious that you should forgive me.
Your uncle Caecilius having been defrauded of a large sum of
money by P. Varius, began an action against his cousin A.
Caninius Satyrus for the property which (as he alleged) the latter
had received from Varius by a collusive sale. He was joined in this
action by the other creditors, among whom were Lucullus and P.
Scipio, and the man whom they thought would be official receiver
if the property was put up for sale, Lucius Pontius; though it is
ridiculous to be talking about a receiver at this stage in the
proceedings. Caecilius asked me to appear for him against Satyrus.
Now, scarcely a day passes that Satyrus does not call at my house.
The chief object of his attentions is L. Domitius, but I am next in
his regard. He has been of great service both to myself and to my
brother Quintus in our elections. I was very much embarrassed by
my intimacy with Satyrus as well as that with Domitius, on whom
the success of my election depends more than on anyone else. I
pointed out these facts to Caecilius; at the same time I assured him
that if the case had been one exclusively between himself and
Satyrus, I would have done what he wished. As the matter actually
stood, all the creditors being concerned--and that two men of the
highest rank, who, without the aid of anyone specially retained by
Caecilius, would have no difficulty in maintaining their common
cause--it was only fair that he should have consideration both for
my private friendship and my present situation. He seemed to take
this somewhat less courteously than I could have wished, or than is
usual among gentlemen; and from that time forth he has entirely
withdrawn from the intimacy with me which was only of a few
days standing. Pray forgive me, and believe that I was prevented
by nothing but natural kindness from assailing the reputation of a
friend in so vital a point at a time of such very great distress,
considering that he had shewn me every sort of kindness and
attention, But if you incline to the harsher view of my conduct,
take it that the interests of my canvass prevented me. Yet, even
granting that to be so, I think you should pardon me, "since not for
sacred beast or oxhide shield." You see in fact the position I am in,
and how necessary I regard it, not only to retain but even to
acquire all possible sources of popularity. I hope I have justified
myself in your eyes, I am at any rate anxious to have done so. The
Hermathena you sent I am delighted with: it has been placed with
such charming effect that the whole gymnasium seems arranged
specially for it. I am exceedingly obliged to you.
II
To ATTICUS (AT ATHENS)
ROME, JULY
I HAVE to inform you that on the day of the election of L. lulius
Caesar and C. Marcius Figulus to the consulship, I had an addition
to my family in the shape of a baby boy. Terentia doing well.
Why such a time without a letter from you? I have already written
to you fully about my circumstances. At this present time I am
considering whether to undertake the defence of my fellow
candidate, Catiline. We have a jury to our minds with full consent
of the prosecutor. I hope that if he is acquitted he will be more
closely united with me in the conduct of our canvass; but if the
result he otherwise I shall bear it with resignation. Your early
return is of great importance to me, for there is a very strong idea
prevailing that some intimate friends of yours, persons of high
rank, will be opposed to my election. To win me their favour I see
that I shall want you very much. Wherefore be sure to be in Rome
in January, as you have agreed to be.
III
To CN. POMPESUS MAGNUS
ROME
M. Tullius Cicero, son of Marcus, greets Ca. Pompeius, son of
Cneius, Imperator.
IF you and the army are well I shall be glad. From your official
despatch I have, in common with everyone else, received the
liveliest satisfaction; for you have given us that strong hope of
peace, of which, in sole reliance on you, I was assuring everyone.
But I must inform you that your old enemies--now posing as your
friends--have received a stunning blow by this despatch, and, being
disappointed in the high hopes they were entertaining, are
thoroughly depressed. Though your private letter to me contained a
somewhat slight expression of your affection, yet I can assure you
it gave me pleasure: for there is nothing in which I habitually find
greater satisfaction than in the consciousness of serving my friend;
and if on any occasion I do not meet with an adequate return, I am
not at all sorry to have the balance of kindness in my favour. Of
this I feel no doubt--even if my extraordinary zeal in your behalf
has failed to unite you to me--that the interests of the state will
certainly effect a mutual attachment and coalition between us. To
let you know, however, what I missed in your letter I will write
with the candour which my own disposition and our common
friendship demand. I did expect some congratulation in your letter
on my achievements, for the sake at once of the ties between us
and of the Republic. This I presume to have been omitted by you
from a fear of hurting anyone's feelings. But let me tell you that
what I did for the salvation of the country is approved by the
judgment and testimony of the whole world. You are a much
greater man that Africanus, but I am not much inferior to Laelius
either; and when you come home you will recognize that I have
acted with such prudence and spirit, that you will not now be
ashamed of being coupled with me in politics as well as in private
friendship.
IV (A I, 17)
To ATTICUS (IN ERIAUS)
ROME, 5 DECEMBER
Your letter, in which you inclose copies of his letters, has made me
realize that my brother Quintus's feelings have undergone many
alternations, and that his opinions and judgments have varied
widely from time to time. This has not only caused me all the pain
which my extreme affection for both of you was bound to bring,
but it has also made me wonder what can have happened to cause
my brother Quintus such deep offence, or such an extraordinary
change of feeling. And yet I was already aware, as I saw that you
also, when you took leave of me, were beginning to suspect, that
there was some lurking dissatisfaction, that his feelings were
wounded, and that certain unfriendly suspicions had sunk deep
into his heart. On trying on several previous occasions, but more
eagerly than ever after the allotment of his province, to assuage
these feelings, I failed to discover on the one hand that the extent
of his offence was so great as your letter indicates; but on the other
I did not make as much progress in allaying it as I wished.
However, I consoled myself with thinking that there would be no
doubt of his seeing you at Dyrrachium, or somewhere in your part
of the country: and, if that happened, I felt sure and fully
persuaded that everything would be made smooth between you,
not only by conversation and mutual explanation, but by the very
sight of each other in such an interview. For I need not say in
writing to you, who knows it quite well, how kind and
sweet-tempered my brother is, as ready to forgive as he is sensitive
in taking offence. But it most unfortunately happened that you did
not see him anywhere. For the impression he had received from the
artifices of others had more weight with him than duty or
relationship, or the old affection so long existing between you,
which ought to have been the strongest influence of all. And yet, as
to where the blame for this misunderstanding resides, I can more
easily conceive than write: since I am afraid that, while defending
my own relations, I should not spare yours. For I perceive that,
though no actual wound was inflicted by members of the family,
they yet could at least have cured it. But the root of the mischief in
this case, which perhaps extends farther than appears, I shall more
conveniently explain to you when we meet. As to the letter he sent
to you from Thessalonica, and about the language which you
suppose him to have used both at Rome among your friends and on
his journey, I don't know how far the matter went, but my whole
hope of removing this unpleasantness rests on your kindness. For if
you will only make up your mind to believe that the best men are
often those whose feelings are most easily irritated and appeased,
and that this quickness, so to speak, and sensitiveness of
disposition are generally signs of a good heart; and lastly--and this
is the main thing--that we must mutually put up with each other's
gaucheries (shall I call them?), or faults, or injurious acts, then
these misunderstandings will, I hope, be easily smoothed away. I
beg you to take this view, for it is the dearest wish of my heart
(which is yours as no one else's can be) that there should not be
one of my family or friends who does not love you and is not loved
by you.
That part of your letter was entirely superfluous, in which you
mention what opportunities of doing good business in the
provinces or the city you let pass at other times as well as in the
year of my consulship: for I am thoroughly persuaded of your
unselfishness and magnanimity, nor did I ever think that there was
any difference between you and me except in our choice of a
career. Ambition led me to seek official advancement, while
another and perfectly laudable resolution led you to seek an
honourable privacy. In the true glory, which is founded on honesty,
industry, and piety, I place neither myself nor anyone else above
you. In affection towards myself, next to my brother and
immediate family, I put you first. For indeed, indeed I have seen
and thoroughly appreciated how your anxiety and joy have
corresponded with the variations of my fortunes. Often has your
congratulation added a charm to praise, and your consolation a
welcome antidote to alarm. Nay, at this moment of your absence, it
is not only your advice--in which you excel--but the interchange of
speech--in which no one gives me so much delight as you do--that
I miss most, shall I say in politics, in which circumspection is
always incumbent on me, or in my forensic labour, which I
formerly sustained with a view to official promotion, and
nowadays to maintain my position by securing popularity, or in the
mere business of my family? In all these I missed you and our
conversations before my brother left Rome, and still more do I
miss them since. Finally, neither my work nor rest, neither my
business nor leisure, neither my affairs in the forum or at home,
public or private, can any longer do without your most consolatory
and affectionate counsel and conversation. The modest reserve
which characterizes both of us has often prevented my mentioning
these facts; but on this occasion it was rendered necessary by that
part of your letter in which you expressed a wish to have yourself
and your character "put straight" and "cleared" in my eyes. Yet, in
the midst of all this unfortunate alienation and anger on his part,
there is yet one fortunate circumstance--that your determination of
not going to a province was known to me and your other friends,
and had been at various times asserted by yourself; so that your not
being with him may be attributed to your personal tastes and
judgment, not to the quarrel and rupture between you. So those ties
which have been broken will be restored, and ours which have
been so religiously preserved will retain all their old inviolability.
At Rome I find politics in a shaky condition; everything is
unsatisfactory and foreboding change. For I have no doubt you
have been told that our friends, the equites, are all but alienated
from the senate. Their first grievance was the promulgation of a
bill on the authority of the senate for the trial of such as had taken
bribes for giving a verdict. I happened not to be in the house when
that decree was passed, but when I found that the equestrian order
was indignant at it, and yet refrained from openly saying so, I
remonstrated with the senate, as I thought, in very impressive
language, and was very weighty and eloquent considering the
unsatisfactory nature of my cause. But here is another piece of
almost intolerable coolness on the part of the equites, which I have
not only submitted to, but have even put in as good a light as
possible! The Companies which had contracted with the censors
for Asia complained that in the heat of the competition they had
taken the contract at an excessive price; they demanded that the
contract should be annulled. I led in their support, or rather, I was
second, for it was Crassus who induced them to venture on this
demand. The case is scandalous, the demand a disgraceful one,
and a confession of rash speculation. Yet there was a very great
risk that, if they got no concession, they would be completely
alienated from the senate. Here again I came to the i escue more
than anyone else, and secured them a full and very friendly house,
in which I, on the 1st and 2nd of December, delivered long
speeches on the dignity and harmony of the two orders. The
business is not yet settled, hut the favourable feeling of the senate
has been made manifest: for no one had spoken against it except
the consul-designate, Metellus; while our hero Cato had still to
speak, the shortness of the day having prevented his turn being
reached. Thus I, in the maintenance of my steady policy, preserve
to the best of my ability that harmony of the orders which was
originally my joiner's work; but since it all now seems in such a
crazy condition, I am constructing what I may call a road towards
the maintenance of our power, a safe one I hope, which I cannot
fully describe to you in a letter, but of which I will nevertheless
give you a hint. I cultivate close intimacy with Pompey. I foresee
what you will say. I will use all necessary precautions, and I will
write another time at greater length about my schemes for
managing the Republic. You must know that Lucceius has it in his
mind to stand for the consulship at once; for there are said to be
only two candidates in prospect. Caesar is thinking of coming to
terms with him by the agency of Arrius, and Bibulus also thinks he
may effect a coalition with him by means of C. Piso. You smile?
This is no laughing matter, believe me. What else shall I write to
you? What? I have plenty to say, but must put it off to another
time. If you mean to wait till you hear, let me know. For the
moment I am satisfied with a modest request, though it is what I
desire above everything-- that you should come to Rome as soon as
possible.
5 December.
V
To TERENTIA, TULLIOLA, AND YOUNG CICERO (AT
ROME)
BRUNDISIUM, 29 APRIL
YES, I do write to you less often than I might, because, though I
am always wretched, yet when I write to you or read a letter from
you, I am in such floods of tears that I cannot endure it. Oh, that I
had clung less to life! I should at least never have known real
sorrow, or not much of it, in my life. Yet if fortune has reserved
for me any hope of recovering at any time any position again, I
was not utterly wrong to do so: if these miseries are to be
permanent, I only wish, my dear, to see you as soon as possible
and to die in your arms, since neither gods, whom you have
worshipped with such pure devotion, nor men, whom I have ever
served, have made us any return. I have been thirteen days at
Brundisium in the house of M. Laenius Flaccus, a very excellent
man, who has despised the risk to his fortunes and civil existence
in comparison to keeping me safe, nor has been induced by the
penalty of a most iniquitous law to refuse me the rights and good
offices of hospitality and friendship. May I sometime have the
opportunity of repaying him! Feel gratitude I always shall. I set out
from Brundisium on the 29th of April, and intend going through
Macedonia to Cyzicus. What a fall! What a disaster! What can I
say? Should I ask you to come--a woman of weak health and
broken spirit? Should I refrain from asking you? Am I to be
without you, then? I think the best course is this: if there is any
hope of my restoration, stay to promote it and push the thing on:
but if, as I fear, it proves hopeless, pray come to me by any means
in your power. Be sure of this, that if I have you I shall not think
myself wholly lost. But what is to become of my darling Tullia?
You must see to that now: I can think of nothing. But certainly,
however things turn out, we must do everything to promote that
poor little girl's married happiness and reputation. Again, what is
my boy Cicero to do? Let him, at any rate, be ever in my bosom
and in my arms. I can't write more. A fit of weeping hinders me. I
don't know how you have got on; whether you are left in
possession of anything, or have been, as I fear, entirely plundered.
Piso, as you say, I hope will always be our friend. As to the
manumission of the slaves you need not be uneasy. To begin with,
the promise made to yours was that you would treat them
according as each severally deserved. So far Orpheus has behaved
well, besides him no one very markedly so. With the rest of the
slaves the arrangement is that, if my property is forfeited, they
should become my freedmen, supposing them to be able to
maintain at law that status. But if my property remained in my
ownership, they were to continue slaves, with the exception of a
very few. But these are trifles. To return to your advice, that I
should keep up my courage and not give up hope of recovering my
position, I only wish that there were any good grounds for
entertaining such a hope. As it is, when, alas! shall I get a letter
from you? Who will bring it me? I would have waited for it at
Brundisium, but the sailors would not allow it, being unwilling to
lose a favourable wind. For the rest, put as dignified a face on the
matter as you can, my dear Terentia. Our life is over: we have had
our day: it is not any fault of ours that has ruined us, but our virtue.
I have made no false step, except in not losing my life when I lost
my honours. But since our children preferred my living, let us bear
everything else, however intolerable. And yet I, who encourage
you, cannot encourage myself. I have sent that faithful fellow
Clodius Philhetaerus home, because he was hampered with
weakness of the eyes. Sallustius seems likely to outdo everybody
in his attentions. Pescennius is exceedingly kind to me; and I have
hopes that he will always be attentive to you. Sicca had said that
he would accompany me; but he has left Brundisium. Take the
greatest care of your health, and believe me that I am more
affected by your distress than my own. My dear Terentia, most
faithful and best of wives, and my darling little daughter, and that
last hope of my race, Cicero, good-bye!
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