Letter 364

Only after seven days did I receive the letter you sent on April 19. In it you ask, and even seem to think I do not know myself, whether I take more pleasure in the hills and the view, or in walking along the silvery sea. By Hercules, as you say, both places have such charm that I hesitate which should be preferred. But we are not occupied with the business of a pleasant meal; we look on an immense disaster, heaven-sent, and fear whether we are to be saved or destroyed. Although you have written great and welcome news about Decimus Brutus' arrival among his legions, in which I see the greatest hope, still, if there is going to be civil war, and there certainly will be if Sextus remains under arms, as I know for certain he will, I do not know what we should do. It will no longer be permitted, as it was in Caesar's war, to be neither here nor there. Anyone whom this faction of ruined men thinks rejoiced at Caesar's death, and we all showed our joy quite openly, they will count among their enemies. That points toward very great slaughter. What remains is for us to carry ourselves into Sextus' camp, or, if possible, Brutus'. The thing is hateful, unsuited to our age, and uncertain in its outcome. Somehow I can say to you, and you to me: "My son, the works of war are not given to you; pursue instead the lovely works of speech." But let chance see to these things; in such matters it has more power than reason. Let us look to what ought to lie within ourselves: whatever happens, to bear it bravely and wisely, to remember that it has happened to human beings before, and to take consolation both from literature and not least from the Ides of March. Now take up the deliberation that troubles me. So many arguments come to mind on both sides. If I set out as I had planned, as an envoy to Greece, I seem to avoid some danger from the massacre that threatens; but I will fall into some criticism for having failed the republic at so serious a time. If I stay, I see that I will be in danger, but I suspect it may happen that I can help the republic. Then there are private plans: I feel it would be very useful for settling Cicero if I came there. That was my only reason for departure when I formed the plan of accepting a legation from Caesar. Think over this whole matter, as you always do, if you think anything bears on me. I now return to your letter. You write that there are rumors that I am going to sell the place I have by the lake, and hand over the little villa to Quintus, even at an inflated price, so that, as young Quintus told you, Aquilia may be brought in with her dowry. In fact I have no thought of selling unless I find something that pleases me more. Quintus, at this time, has no concern for buying. He is tortured enough by the repayment of the dowry, in which he gives remarkable thanks to Quintus Egnatius. As for marrying a wife, he so recoils from it that he says nothing is more pleasant than a free bed. But enough of that too. I return to the miserable republic, or rather to no republic at all. Marcus Antonius has written to me about the restoration of Sextus Clodius. How honorably he writes, as far as I am concerned, you will learn from his own letter, for I have sent you a copy. How lax, how disgraceful, and how ruinous the matter is, you will easily judge, so that sometimes Caesar seems almost to be missed. Things that Caesar would never have done, nor allowed to be done, are now being produced from forged notes of his. I made myself very easy for Antonius. Since he once decided that he may do whatever he wants, he would have done it just as readily against my wishes. So I have sent you a copy of my letter too.

The letter you sent on the 19th did not reach me for seven days. In it you ask whether I take more pleasure in hills and a view or a walk by the silver sea, and you seem to think I may not know myself. Upon my word, both are so beautiful, as you say, that I doubt which to prefer. "But no thought have we of the service of a dainty meal; nay, seeing a woeful heavy bane sent on us by heaven, we shudder in doubt whether we shall be saved or perish." For although you have sent me great and welcome news about D. Brutus having joined his troops, in which I see great hopes, still, if there is going to be civil war—and that there must be, if Sextus stays under arms, as I know for certain he will—I don't know what we are to do. For now there will be no chance of sitting on the fence, as there was in Caesar's war. For, if this gang of ruffians thinks anyone was rejoiced at the death of Caesar—and we all of us showed our joy quite openly—they will count him an enemy; and that looks like a considerable massacre. Our alternative is to take refuge in Sextus' camp, or join ourselves to Brutus if we can. That is a hateful business and unsuitable for our age, especially considering the uncertainty of war; and somehow or other it seems to me that I can say to you and you to me: "My son, to thee are not given the arts of war; nay, do thou rather compass the witching arts of speech." But that we must leave to chance, which is of more importance in such matters than reason. For ourselves, let us look to the one thing that ought to be in our power, that, whatever may happen, we may bear it with courage and philosophy, remembering that we are but mortal, and console ourselves a good deal with literature and not least with the Ides of March. Now come to my aid in settling a point which is causing me anxiety. So much to be said on both sides occurs to me. If I set off, as I intended, on a free embassy to Greece, it seems as though I might avoid to some extent the danger of a massacre which is threatening, but I shall not escape some blame for deserting the state in such a crisis. On the other hand, if I stay, I see I shall be in danger, but I suspect there is a possibility that I may help the State. There are also private considerations, that I think it would be of great use in settling my son down if I went to Athens; and that was the only reason for my going, when I had the idea of getting the offer of an embassy from Caesar. So consider every side of the case, as you usually do in my affairs. I return now to your letter. You say there are rumours that I am thinking of selling my house on the Lucrine lake and of handing over to Quintus my tiny villa at quite a fancy price, that he may bring the heiress Aquilia to it, as young Quintus says. I have had no thought of selling it, unless I find something that suits me better, while Quintus is not thinking of buying it at the present time. He is quite bothered enough with repaying the dowry, and is expressing the deepest gratitude to Egnatius for his assistance. To marrying again he is so averse that he declares a bachelor's couch is the most comfortable in the world. But enough of this also. For now I return to the crushed or rather non-existent republic. M. Antonius has written to me about the recall of Sex. Clodius. You will see from the copy I include that the tone of his letter, so far as concerns myself, is complimentary enough. But you can easily imagine the proposal is so unprincipled, so disgraceful, and so mischievous, that at times one almost wishes for Caesar back again. For things that Caesar never would have done, nor allowed to be done, are now being brought forward from forged notes of his. However, I have shown myself quite complaisant to Antonius. For when he has once got it into his head that he may do what he chooses, he would have done it just as readily against my will. So I have sent you a copy of my letter too.

septimo denique die litterae mihi redditae sunt quae erant a te xiii Kal. datae; quibus quaeris atque etiam me ipsum nescire arbitraris utrum magis tumulis prospectuque an ambulatione a(litenei= delecter. est me hercule, ut dicis, utriusque loci tanta amoenitas ut dubitem utra anteponenda sit. a)ll' ou) daito\s e)phra/tou e)/rga me/mhlen, a)lla\ li/hn me/ga ph=ma, diotrefe/s, ei)soro/wntes dei/dimen: e)n doih=| de\ sawse/men h)\ a)pole/sqai. [2] quamvis enim tu magna et mihi iucunda scripseris de D. Bruti adventu ad suas legiones in quo spem maximam video, tamen si est bellum civile futurum (quod certe erit si Sextus in armis permanebit, quem permansurum esse certo scio), quid nobis faciendum sit ignoro. neque enim iam licebit quod Caesaris bello licuit neque huc neque illuc. quemcumque enim haec pars perditorum laetatum Caesaris morte putabit (laetitiam autem apertissime tulimus omnes), hunc in hostium numero habebit; quae res ad caedem maximam spectat. restat ut in castra Sexti aut, si forte, Bruti nos conferamus. res odiosa et aliena nostris aetatibus et incerto exitu [belli], et nescio quo pacto tibi ego possum, mihi tu dicere, te/knon e)mo/n, ou)/ toi de/dotai polemh/ia e)/rga, a)lla\ su/ g' i(mero/enta mete/rxeo e)/rga lo/goio [3] sed haec fors viderit, ea quae talibus in rebus plus quam ratio potest. nos autem id videamus quod in nobis ipsis esse debet, ut quicquid accideret fortiter et sapienter feramus et accidisse hominibus meminerimus, nosque cum multum litterae tum non minimum Idus quoque Martiae consolentur. [4] suscipe nunc meam deliberationem qua sollicitor. ita multa veniunt in mentem in utramque partem. proficiscor, ut constitueram, legatus in Graeciam: caedis impendentis periculum non nihil vitare videor sed casurus in aliquam vituperationem quod rei publicae defuerim tam gravi tempore. sin autem mansero, fore me quidem video in discrimine sed accidere posse suspicor ut prodesse possim rei publicae. iam illa consilia privata sunt, quod sentio valde esse utile ad confirmationem Ciceronis me illuc venire; nec alia causa profectionis mihi ulla fuit tum cum consilium cepi legari a Caesare. tota igitur hac de re, ut soles, si quid ad me pertinere putas, cogitabis. [5] redeo nunc ad epistulam tuam. scribis enim esse rumores me ad lacum quod habeo venditurum, minusculam vero villam [utique] Quinto traditurum vel impenso pretio, quo introducatur, ut tibi Quintus filius dixerit, dotata Aquilia. ego vero de venditione nihil cogito nisi quid quod magis me delectet invenero. Quintus autem de emendo nihil curat hoc tempore. satis enim torquetur debitione dotis in qua mirificas Q. Egnatio gratias agit; a ducenda autem uxore sic abhorret ut libero lectulo neget esse quicquam iucundius. sed haec quoque hactenus. [6] redeo enim ad miseram seu nullam potius rem publicam. M. Antonius ad me scripsit de restitutione Sex. Clodi; quam honorifice, quod ad me attinet, ex ipsius litteris cognosces (misi enim tibi exemplum), quam dissolute, quam turpiter quamque ita perniciose ut non numquam Caesar desiderandus esse videatur facile existimabis. quae enim Caesar numquam neque fecisset neque passus esset, ea nunc ex falsis eius commentariis proferuntur. ego autem Antonio facillimum me praebui. etenim ille, quoniam semel induxit animum sibi licere quod vellet, fecisset nihilo minus me invito. itaque mearum quoque litterarum misi tibi exemplum.