Letter 5.17

It was not because I had forgotten our friendship, or because I meant to interrupt my habit of writing to you, that I have not written in recent years. The earlier part of that time was dark for me because of the disaster that had fallen on the republic and on myself; the later part, because of your own most distressing and undeserved misfortune, made me reluctant to write. But now that enough time has passed, and I remember more clearly your high character and great courage, I thought it consistent with my duty to write to you. My dear Publius Sittius, when an attempt was first made in your absence to bring you into hatred and criminal danger, I defended you. When a charge against you became involved in the accusation and trial of your closest friend, I took the greatest care to protect your position and clear your name. Again, on this last occasion, soon after my return to Rome, though I found your case placed on a footing very different from what I would have advised had I been there, I still omitted nothing that could contribute to your safety. On that occasion, the anger caused by the grain price, the hostility of certain people not only toward you but toward all your friends, the unfairness of the whole trial, and many other disorders in the state had more influence than the merits of your case or truth itself. Even so, I did not fail to help your son Publius with practical aid, advice, personal influence, and direct testimony. Since I have carefully and faithfully fulfilled all the other duties of friendship, I thought I should not omit this one: to urge you, and beg you, to remember that you are both human and brave. Bear with philosophy the accidents that are common to all and beyond calculation, which none of us mortals can avoid or foresee by any means. Meet with courage the grief fortune brings. Remember that not only in our state, but in every state that has acquired an empire, such disasters have often befallen the bravest and best men through unjust verdicts. I wish I were writing falsely when I say that you have been exiled from a state in which no thoughtful man can find anything to enjoy. As for your son, if I write nothing about him, I fear I may seem not to bear witness as his qualities deserve. If I write fully what I feel, I fear my letter may irritate the wound of your regret. Your wisest course is to regard his loyalty, virtue, and steadfast conduct as still yours and as accompanying you wherever you are. What we embrace in imagination belongs to us no less than what we see before our eyes. So his fine qualities and deep affection for you should bring you great consolation. So should I, and the other friends who value you and always will value you, not for your position but for your worth. Above all, your own conscience should console you when you remember that you have deserved none of what has happened to you, and when you consider that wise men are distressed by guilt, not by misfortune; by their own wrongdoing, not by the misconduct of others. For my part, I will omit no opportunity either to console you or to relieve your present condition. The memory of our old friendship, and the character and respectful devotion of your son, will keep me mindful of that duty. If you tell me by letter of anything you need, I will see that you do not think you wrote in vain.

CLXXVIII (Fam. V, 17) TO P. SITTIUS (IN EXILE) ROME: It was not because I had forgotten our friendship, or had any intention of breaking off my correspondence, that I have not written to you of late years. The reason is that the earlier part of them was a period of depression owing to the disaster which had befallen the Republic and myself, while the later period, with your own most distressing and undeserved misfortune, has made me reluctant to write. Since, however, a sufficiently long period has now elapsed, and I have recalled with greater distinctness your high character and lofty courage, I thought it not inconsistent with my purposes to write this to you. For my part, my dear P. Sittius , I defended you originally, when an attempt was made in your absence to bring you into odium and under a criminal charge; and when a charge against you was involved in the accusation and trial of your most intimate friend, I took the very greatest care to safeguard your position and justify you. And, again also, on this last occasion, soon after my return to Rome , though I found that your case had been put on a footing far different from what I should have advised, if I had been there, still I omitted nothing that could contribute to your security. And though on that occasion the ill-feeling arising from the price of corn, the hostility of certain persons, not only to yourself, but to all your friends as well, the unfairness of the whole trial, and many other abuses in the state, had greater influence than the merits of your case or than truth itself, I yet did not fail to serve your son Publius with active assistance, advice, personal influence, and direct testimony. Wherefore, as I have carefully and religiously fulfilled all the other offices of friendship, I thought I ought not to omit that of urging upon you and beseeching you to remember that you are a human being and a gallant man — that is, that you should bear philosophically accidents which are common to all and incalculable, which none of us mortals can shun or forestall by any means whatever: should confront with courage such grief as fortune brings: and should reflect that not in our state alone, but in all others that have acquired an empire, such disasters have in many Instances befallen the bravest and best from unjust verdicts. Oh that I were writing untruly when I say, that you are exiled from a state in which no man of foresight can find anything to give him pleasure! As for your son, again, I fear that, if I write nothing to you, I may seem not to have borne testimony to his high qualities as they deserve; while on the other hand, if I write fully all I feel, I fear that my letter may irritate the smart of your regret. But, after all, your wisest course will be to regard his loyalty, virtue, and steady conduct as being in your possession, and as accompanying you wherever you may be: for, in truth, what we embrace in imagination is no less ours than what we see before our eyes. Wherefore not only ought his brilliant qualities and extreme affection for you to afford you great consolation, but so also ought I and others of your friends who value you, and always will do so, not for your position, but your worth; and so, above all else, ought your own conscience, when you reflect that you have not deserved anything that has befallen you, and when you consider besides that the wise are distressed by guilt, not by mischance — by their own ill-doing, not by the misconduct of others. For my part, I shall omit no opportunity either of consoling or alleviating your present position; for the recollection of our old friendship, and the high character and respectful attentions of your son, will keep me in mind of that duty. If you, on your part, will mention by letter anything you want, I will take care that you shall not think that you have written in vain.

XVII. Scr. Romae eodem fere tempore, quo ep. XVIII (a. 702). M. CICERO S. D. P. SITTIO P. F. Non oblivione amicitiae nostrae neque intermissione consuetudinis meae superioribus temporibus ad te nullas litteras misi, sed quod priora tempora in ruinis rei publicae nostrisque iacuerunt posteriora autem me a scribendo tuis iniustissimis atque acerbissimis incommodis retardarunt. Cum vero et intervallum iam satis longum fuisset et tuam virtutem animique magnitudinem diligentius essem mecum recordatus, non putavi esse alienum institutis meis haec ad te scribere: ego te, P. Sitti, et primis temporibus illis, quibus in invidiam absens et in crimen vocabare, defendi et, cum tui familiarissimi iudico ac periculo tuum crimen coniungeretur, ut potui accuratissime te tuamque causam tutatus sum et proxime recenti adventu meo, cum rem aliter institutam offendissem, ac mihi placuisset, si affuissem, tamen nulla re saluti tuae defui, cumque eo tempore invidia annonae, inimici non solum tui, verum etiam amicorum tuorum, iniquitas totius iudicii multaque alia rei publicae vitia plus quam causa ipsa veritasque valuissent, Publio tuo neque opera neque consilio neque labore neque gratia neque testimonio defui. Quamobrem omnibus officiis amicitiae diligenter a me sancteque servatis ne hoc quidem praetermittendum esse duxi, te ut hortarer rogaremque, ut et hominem te et virum esse meminisses, id est, ut et communem incertumque casum, quem neque vitare quisquam nostrum nec praestare ullo pacto potest, sapienter ferres et dolori fortiter ac fortunae resisteres cogitaresque et in nostra civitate et in ceteris, quae rerum potitae sunt, multis fortissimis atque optimis viris iniustis iudiciis tales casus incidisse. Illud utinam ne vere scriberem, ea te re publica carere, in qua neminem prudentem hominem res ulla delectet! De tuo autem filio, vereor, ne, si nihil ad te scripserim, debitum eius virtuti videar testimonium non dedisse, sin autem omnia, quae sentio, perscripserim, ne refricem meis litteris desiderium ac dolorem tuum; sed tamen prudentissime facies, si illius pietatem, virtutem, industriam, ubicumque eris, tuam esse, tecum esse duces; nec enim minus nostra sunt, quae animo complectimur, quam quae oculis intuemur. Quamobrem et illius eximia virtus summusque in te amor magnae tibi consolationi debet esse et nos ceterique, qui te non ex fortuna, sed ex virtute tua pendimus semperque pendemus, et maxime animi tui conscientia, cum tibi nihil merito accidisse reputabis et illud adiunges, homines sapientes turpitudine, non casu, et delicto suo, non aliorum iniuria commoveri. Ego et memoria nostrae veteris amicitiae et virtute atque observantia filii tui monitus nullo loco deero neque ad consolandum neque ad levandam fortunam tuam: tu si quid ad me forte scripseris, perficiam, ne te frustra scripsisse arbitrere.