Marcus Tullius Cicero
Letters of Marcus Tullius Cicero
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Table of contents
LETTERS
I
II
III
IV (A I, 17)
V
VI
VII
VIII
IX
X
XI.
XII
XIII
XLV
XV
XVI
XVII
XVIII
XIX
XX
XXI
XXII
XXIII
XXIV
XXVI
XXVII
XXVIII
XXIX
XXX
XXXI
XXXII
XXXIII
XXXIV
XXXV
XXXVI
LETTERS
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
logical 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.
I
To
ATTICUS (AT ATHENS)ROME,
JULYTHE
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 ofCneius,
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 DECEMBERYour 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, ar [...]
