Letter 194

[1] Since I had absolutely nothing to write, but these were the questions still left that I was eager to know — whether he had set out, in what condition he had left the city, whom he had put in charge of each region or task within Italy itself, and whether there were any envoys appointed to Pompey and the consuls by decree of the Senate to treat for peace — I have therefore sent you this letter on purpose, so that I might learn these things. You will accordingly do me a kindness, and oblige me, if you inform me about these matters, and about anything else there may be that I need to know. I am waiting here at Arcanum until I get word of all this.

I have received a lot of letters from you on the same day, all of them written with care and one, which is as big as a book, worth reading several times, as I am doing. Your labour has not been in vain: you have gratified me very much. And so I beseech you continue to write as often as you can, so long as it is possible, that is, so long as you know where I am. And as for our daily lamentations let us make an end of them once for all, if we can, or at any rate moderate them, which we certainly can. For I have given up thinking of the dignity, the honours and the position I have lost: I think of what I have attained, what I have done, the glory of my career, in short what a difference there is even in our present straits between me and those through whom I have lost all. They are the people who thought they could not attain their extravagant desires without expelling me from the State: and you see now what has come of their coalition in a criminal conspiracy. The one burns with a madman's lust for crime, which does not cool one whit, but rather increases day by day. He has just driven Pompey from Italy, now on one side of the world he is pursuing him, on the other he is trying to rob him of his province: and he no longer refuses, nay, he practically demands, to be called a tyrant, as he is. The other, who once would not even give me a helping hand, when I threw myself at his feet, declaring he could do nothing against Caesar's will, now, having slipped from the grasp of his father-in-law's mailed hand, is preparing war by land and sea. The war is not unjust on his part, nay, it is even righteous and necessary; but, unless he conquers, it will be fatal to his fellow-countrymen; and, even if he does conquer, it will be disastrous. These are our great men; but I do not hold their achievements one whit superior to mine, nor even their fortune, though they may seem to have basked in fortune's smiles while I have met her frowns. For who can be happy, when he has caused his country to be deserted or enslaved? And if, as you admonish me, I was right in saying in those books of mine that nothing is good, save what is honourable, and nothing bad, save what is dishonourable, then certainly both of them are most miserable, since both of them have thought less of their country's safety and dignity than of their own high place and private interests. My conscience then is clear and helps to support me, when I think that I have always rendered my country good service, when I could, and assuredly have never harboured any but loyal thoughts, and that the State has been wrecked by the very storm which I foresaw fourteen years ago. With a clear conscience then I shall depart, though the parting will cost me a bitter pang: nor shall I go so much for my own sake or for my brother's—our day is done—as for our children, to whom I think at times we ought to have secured at least a free country. For one of them I feel the most poignant grief—not so much because he is my son, as because he is exceedingly dutiful—while the other unfortunately has turned out the bitterest disappointment of my life. He has been spoiled, I suppose, by our indulgence, and has gone to lengths that I dare not name. I am waiting for your letter too; for you promised to write more fully when you had seen him himself. All my humouring of him has been accompanied by considerable strictness: and I have had to put my foot down not over one fault of his or a small one, but over many grave faults. But his father's kindness should surely have been repaid by affection rather than by such cruel disregard. For we were more annoyed at his sending letters to Caesar than we let you see, but I think we made his life a burden to him. I dare not describe this recent journey of his and his hypocritical pretence of filial duty: I only know that, after he met Hirtius, he was summoned to Caesar's presence, and discussed the difference between my views and his own and my plan of leaving Italy. Even that I write with hesitation. But it is no fault of mine: it is his disposition which must cause us anxiety. That is what corrupted Curio and Hortensius' son, not their fathers' fault. My brother is prostrate with grief, though he does not fear for his own life so much as for mine. It is to him, to him more than me, I want you to offer consolation, if you can. The best consolation would be that what we have heard was false or exaggerated. If it was true, I fail to see what will come of this runaway existence. For if the constitution were still intact, I should know what to do both in the way of severity and in the way of kindness. Now, under the sway of some passion, be it wrath or sorrow or fear, I have written more bitterly than either your affection for him or mine warrants. If what I have said is true, you will pardon me: if it is false, I shall be only too glad to have the error removed. However it may be, you must not blame his uncle or his father. When I had got so far, I received a message from Curio that he was coming to see me. He came to his place here yesterday evening, that is on the 13th. If any point worth mentioning to you occurs in our conversation, I will add it to this letter. Curio passed by my house, and sent a message saying he was coming very soon. Then he hurried off to make a speech at Puteoli. He made his speech, returned and stayed a very long time. How disgusting! You know the sort of man he is: he hid nothing. In the first place he is quite sure that all those condemned by Pompey's law are going to be recalled: and so he is going to make use of their services in Sicily. He had no doubt about Caesar getting the two Spains and said he would start from them with an army to wherever Pompey might be. Pompey's death would be the end of the war. Caesar had been carried away by anger into wishing to have the tribune Metellus killed and he had had a narrow shave. If it had happened, there would have been an enormous massacre. Many had spoken in favour of a massacre: and Caesar himself was not by nature and inclination averse to cruelty, but he thought that mild measures would win popularity. But, if he lost popular favour, he would be cruel. He had been put out when he found that he had offended the populace itself by seizing the treasury: and so, though he had fully made up his mind to harangue the people before leaving, he had not ventured to do so, and he had gone off in a very disturbed state of mind. But when I asked Curio what he looked forward to, what end, and what constitution, he confessed openly that there was no hope left. He was afraid of Pompey's fleet, and, if it put to sea, he should desert Sicily. I asked, what was the meaning of his six lictors, why their staves were laurelled, if the Senate gave them to him, and why there were six, if Caesar gave them. He said, "I wanted to snatch a vote from the House for them (for it could not be done openly): but Caesar hates the Senate like poison, and declares that all such authority will proceed from him." "But why six?" "Because I didn't want twelve, though I could have had them." I said: "I wish I had asked for what I hear Philippus has got from him: but I was afraid to ask, as he got nothing from me." He replied: "He would willingly have given you permission. But take it that you did get it. I will write to him just as you wish, and say we have spoken about the matter. What does it matter to him where you are, as you do not attend the House? If you were not in Italy at this very moment, it would not damage his cause in the least." I responded that I was looking for a retired and solitary retreat, especially because I still had my lictors in attendance. He agreed with me. "How about this then," said I. "My way through to Greece lies through your province, as the Adriatic is guarded." "There is nothing I should like better," he said, and added many very handsome remarks. So something has come of it: I could sail not only in safety, but openly. The rest he put off for the next day: I will write and tell you if there is anything worth mentioning. But there are some things I omitted to ask: whether Caesar was going to wait for an interregnum, or what he meant by saying that he had been offered the consulship but had refused it for the next year. And there are other points I must ask about. Finally he swore—though to be sure he makes no bones about swearing—that Caesar was very friendly to me. I expressed my doubt. He said he had heard from Dolabella. I asked what he said, and he declared he said Caesar had thanked him warmly for wanting me to go to Rome, and not only approved but showed pleasure. Of course I felt relieved. The suspicion of domestic treachery and of the talk with Hirtius has been removed. How I hope young Quintus is worthy of his family, and how I keep urging myself to note the points in his favour! But need he have visited Hirtius? There is something in the tale, but I hope it may not prove of much consequence. Still I wonder he is not back yet. But we shall see about this. Please introduce Terentia to the Oppii: for there is only one danger in Rome now. As for me, give me the benefit of your advice as to whether I am to go to Regium on foot or to embark straight from here, and on all the other points too, as I am staying here. I shall have something to write as soon as I have seen Curio. Please keep me posted up in news about Tiro's condition, as you have done.

[1] Cum quod scriberem plane nihil haberem, haec autem reliqua essent quae scire cuperem, profectusne esset, quo in statu urbem reliquisset, in ipsa Italia quem cuique regioni aut negotio praefecisset, ecqui essent ad Pompeium et ad consules ex senatus consulto de pace legati, ut igitur haec scirem dedita opera has ad te litteras misi. feceris igitur commode mihique gratum si me de his rebus et si quid erit aliud quod scire opus sit feceris certiorem. ego in Arcano opperior dum ista cognosco.