Latin Texts & Translations

CXXVI (F VII, I)

TO M. MARIUS (AT CUMAE) ROME (OCTOBER?)

If some bodily pain or weakness of health has prevented your coming to the games, I put it down to fortune rather than your own wisdom: but if you have made up your mind that these things which the rest of the world admires are only worthy of contempt, and, though your health would have allowed of it, you yet were unwilling to come, then I rejoice at both facts—that you were free from bodily pain, and that you had the sound sense to disdain what others causelessly admire. Only I hope that some fruit of your leisure may be forthcoming, a leisure, indeed, which you had a splendid opportunity of enjoying to the full, seeing that you were left almost alone in your lovely country. For I doubt not that in that study of yours, from which you have opened a window into the Stabian waters of the bay, and obtained a view of Misenum, you have spent the morning hours of those days in light reading, while those who left you there were watching the ordinary farces ^[Note] half asleep. The remaining parts of the day, too, you spent in the pleasures which you had yourself arranged to suit your own taste, while we had to endure whatever had met with the approval of Spurius Maecius. ^[Note] On the whole, if you care to know, the games were most splendid, but not to your taste. I judge from my own. For, to begin with, as a special honour to the occasion, those actors had come back to the stage who, I thought, had left it for their own. Indeed, your favourite, my friend Aesop, was in such a state that no one could say a word against his retiring from the profession. On beginning to recite the oath his voice failed him at the

words "If I knowingly deceive." Why should I go on with the story? You know all about the rest of the games, which hadn't even that amount of charm which games on a moderate scale generally have: for the spectacle was so elaborate as to leave no room for cheerful enjoyment, and I think you need feel no regret at having missed it. For what is the pleasure of a train of six hundred mules in the "Clytemnestra," or three thousand bowls in the "Trojan Horse," or gay-coloured armour of infantry and cavalry in some battle? These things roused the admiration of the vulgar; to you they would have brought no delight. But if during those days you listened to your reader Protogenes, so long at least as he read anything rather than my speeches, surely you had far greater pleasure than any one of us. For I don't suppose you wanted to see Greek or Oscan plays, especially as you can see Oscan farces in your senate-house over there, while you are so far from liking Greeks, that you generally won't even go along the Greek road to your villa. Why, again, should I suppose you to care about missing the athletes, since you disdained the gladiators? in which even Pompey himself confesses that he lost his trouble and his pains. There remain the two wild-beast hunts, lasting five days, magnificent—nobody denies it—and yet, what pleasure can it be to a man of refinement, when either a weak man is torn by an extremely powerful animal, or a splendid animal is transfixed by a hunting spear? Things which, after all, if worth seeing, you have often seen before; nor did I, who was present at the games, see anything the least new. The last day was that of the elephants, on which there was a great deal of astonishment on the part of the vulgar crowd, but no pleasure whatever. Nay, there was even a certain feeling of compassion aroused by it, and a kind of belief created that that animal has something in common with mankind. ^[Note] However, for my part, during this day, while the theatrical exhibitions were on, lest by chance you should think me too blessed, I almost split my lungs in defending your friend Caninius Gallus. ^[Note] But if the people were as indulgent

to me as they were to Aesop, I would, by heaven, have been glad to abandon my profession and live with you and others like us. The fact is I was tired of it before, even when both age and ambition stirred me on, and when I could also decline any defence that I didn't like; but now, with things in the state that they are, there is no life worth having. For, on the one hand, I expect no profit of my labour; and, on the other, I am sometimes forced to defend men who have been no friends to me, at the request of those to whom I am under obligations. Accordingly, I am on the look-out for every excuse for at last managing my life according to my own taste, and I loudly applaud and vehemently approve both you and your retired plan of life: and as to your infrequent appearances among us, I am the more resigned to that because, were you in Rome, I should be prevented from enjoying the charm of your society, and so would you of mine, if I have any, by the overpowering nature of my engagements; from which, if I get any relief—for entire release I don't expect—I will give even you, who have been studying nothing else for many years, some hints as to what it is to live a life of cultivated enjoyment. Only be careful to nurse your weak health and to continue your present care of it, so that you may be able to visit my country houses and make excursions with me in my litter. I have written you a longer letter than usual, from superabundance, not of leisure, but of affection, because, if you remember, you asked me in one of your letters to write you something to prevent you feeling sorry at having missed the games. And if I have succeeded in that, I am glad: if not, I yet console myself with this reflexion, that in future you will both come to the games and come to see me, and will not leave your hope of enjoyment dependent on my letters. ^[Note]

CLXXXI (F VII, 2)

TO M. MARIUS (IN CAMPANIA) ROME (DECEMBER)

I will look after your commission carefully. But, sharp man that you are, you have given your commission to the very person above all others whose interest it is that the article

should fetch the highest possible price! However, you have been far-sighted in fixing beforehand how far I am to go. But if you had left it to me, I am so much attached to you that I would have made a bargain with the heirs: as it is, since I know your price, I will put up some one to bid rather than let it go for less. But a truce to jesting! I will do your business with all care, as in duty bound. I feel sure you are glad about Bursa, ^[Note] but your congratulations are too half-hearted. For you suppose, as you say in your letter, that, owing to the fellow's meanness, I don't look upon it as a matter of much rejoicing. I would have you believe that I am more pleased with this verdict than with the death of my enemy. For, in the first place, I would rather win by legal process than by the sword; in the second place, by what brings credit to a friend than by what involves his condemnation. ^[Note] And, above all, I was delighted that the support of the loyalists was given to me so decisively against the influence exerted to an incredible degree by a most illustrious and powerful personage. Finally—though, perhaps, you won't think it likely—I bated this man much more than the notorious Clodius himself. For the latter I bad attacked, the former I had defended. The latter, too, though the very existence of the Republic was to be risked in my person, had yet a certain great object in view; nor was it wholly on his own initiative, but with the support of those who could not be safe as long as I was so. But this ape of a fellow, in sheer wantonness, had selected me as an object for his invectives, and had persuaded certain persons ^[Note] who were jealous of me that he would always be a ready instrument for an attack upon me. Wherefore I bid you rejoice with

all your heart: a great stroke has been struck. Never were any citizens more courageous than those who ventured to vote for his condemnation, in the teeth of the immense power of the man by whom the jurors had themselves been selected. And this they never would have done had not my grievance been theirs also. Here, in Rome, I am so distracted by the number of trials, the crowded courts, and the new legislation, ^[Note] that I daily offer prayers that there may be no intercalation, ^[Note] so that I may see you as soon as possible.

CDLXII (F VII, 3)

TO M. MARIUS (AT POMPEII) ROME (LATE IN MAY)

Very often, as I reflect upon the miseries in which we have all alike been living these many years past, and, as far as I can see, are likely to be living, lam wont to recall that time when we last met: nay, I remember the exact day. Having arrived at my Pompeian villa on the evening of the 12th of May, in the consulship of Lentulus and Marcellus, ^[Note] you came to see me in a state of anxiety. What was making you uneasy was your reflexion both on my duty and my danger. If I remained in Italy, you feared my being wanting to my duty: if I set out to the camp, you were agitated by the thought of my danger. At that time you certainly found me so unnerved as to be unable to unravel the tangle and see what was best to be done. Nevertheless, I preferred to be ruled by honour and reputation, rather than to consider the safety of my life. Of this decision I afterwards repented,

not so much on account of the danger I incurred, as because of the many fatal weaknesses which I found on arrival at my destination. In the first place, troops neither numerous nor on a proper war footing; in the second place, beyond the general and a few others—I am speaking of the men of rank—the rest, to begin with, greedy for plunder in conducting the war itself, and moreover so bloodthirsty in their talk, that I shuddered at the idea of victory itself: and, lastly, immense indebtedness on the part of the men of the highest position. In short, there was nothing good except the cause.

Despairing of victory when I saw these things, I first began advising a peace, which had always been my policy; next, finding Pompey vehemently opposed to that idea, I proceeded to advise him to protract the war. Of this he at times expressed approval, and seemed likely to adopt the suggestion; and he perhaps would have done so, had it not been that as a result of a certain engagement ^[Note] he began to feel confidence in his soldiers. From that day forth that eminent man ceased to be anything of a general. He accepted battle against the most highly seasoned legions with an army of raw recruits and hastily collected men. Having been shamefully beaten, with the loss also of his camp, he fled alone.

This I regarded as the end of the war, as far as I was concerned, nor did I imagine that, having been found unequal to the struggle while still unbeaten, we should have the upper hand after a crushing defeat. I abandoned a war in which the alternatives were to fall on the field of battle, or to fall into some ambush, or to come into the conqueror's hands, or to take refuge with Iuba, or to select some place of residence as practically an exile, or to die by one's own hand. At least there was no other alternative, if you had neither the will nor the courage to trust yourself to the victor. Now, of all these alternatives I have mentioned, none is more en-durable than exile, especially to a man with clean hands, when no dishonour attaches to it: and I may also add, when you lose a city, in which there is nothing that you can look at without pain. For my part, I preferred to remain with my own family—if a man may nowadays call anything

his own—and also on my own property. What actually happened I foretold in every particular. I came home, not because that offered the best condition of life, but that after all, if some form of a constitution remained, I might be there as though in my own country, and if not, as though in exile. For inflicting death on myself there seemed no adequate reason: many reasons why I should wish for it. For it is an old saying, "When you cease to be what once you were, there is no reason why you should wish to live." But after all it is a great consolation to be free of blame, especially as I have two things upon which to rely for support-acquaintance with the noblest kind of learning and the glory of the most brilliant achievements: of which the former will never be torn from me while I live, the latter not even after my death.

I have written these things to you somewhat fully, and have bored you with them, because I knew you to be most devoted both to myself and to the Republic. I wished you to be acquainted with my entire views, that in the first place you might know that it was never a wish of mine that any one individual should have more power than the Republic as a whole; but that, when by some one's fault a particular person did become so powerful as to make resistance to him impossible, I was for peace: that when the army was lost, as well as the leader in whom alone our hopes had been fixed, I wished to put an end to the war for the rest of the party also: and, when that proved impossible, that I did so for myself. But that now, if our state exists, I am a citizen of it; if it does not, that I am an exile in a place quite as suited for the position, as if I had betaken myself to Rhodes or Mytilene.

I should have preferred to discuss this with you personally, but as the possibility of that was somewhat remote, I determined to make the same statement by letter, that you might have something to say, if you ever fell in with any of my critics. For there are men who, though my death would have been utterly useless to the state, regard it as a crime that I am still alive, and who I am certain think that those who perished were not numerous enough. Though, if these persons had listened to me, they would now, however unfair the terms of peace, have been living in honour; for while inferior in arms they would have been superior in the merits of their

cause. Here's a letter somewhat more wordy than perhaps you would have wished; and that I shall hold to be your opinion, unless you send me a still longer one in reply. If I can get through with some business which I wish to settle, I shall, I hope, see you before long.

DI (F VII, 4)

TO M. MARIUS (AT HIS VILLA NEAR STABIAE) CUMAE, 16 NOVEMBER

ON the 16th ^[Note] I came to my Cuman villa along with your friend Libo, ^[Note] or rather I should say our friend. I think of going on at once to my Pompeian, ^[Note] but I will give you notice beforehand. I always wish you to be in good health, but especially while I am here. For you see how much we are likely to be together. Wherefore, if you have an appointment with the gout, pray defer it to another day. So take care to be well and expect me in two or three days' time.

CXXXIII (F VII, 5)

TO CAESAR (IN GAUL) ROME (FEBRUARY)

Cicero greets Caesar, Imperator. Observe how far I have convinced myself that you are my second self, not only in matters which concern me personally, but even in those which concern my friends. It had been my intention to take Gaius Trebatius with me for whatever destination I should be leaving town, in order to bring him home again honoured as much as my zeal and favour could make him. But when Pompey remained at home longer than I expected, and a certain hesitation on my part (with which you are not unacquainted) appeared to hinder, or at any rate to retard, my

departure, ^[Note] I presumed upon what I will now explain to you. I begin to wish that Trebatius should look to you for what he had hoped from me, and, in fact, I have been no more sparing of my promises of goodwill on your part than I had been wont to be of my own. Moreover, an extraordinary coincidence has occurred which seems to support my opinion and to guarantee your kindness. For just as I was speaking to our friend Balbus ^[Note] about this very Trebatius at my house, with more than usual earnestness, a letter from you was handed to me, at the end of which you say: "Miscinius Rufus, ^[Note] whom you recommend to me, I will make king of Gaul, or, if you choose, put him under the care of Lepta. Send me some one else to promote." I and Balbus both lifted our hands in surprise: it came so exactly in the nick of time, that it appeared to be less the result of mere chance than something providential. I therefore send you Trebatius, and on two grounds, first that it was my spontaneous idea to send him, and secondly because you have invited me to do so. I would beg you, dear Caesar, to receive him with such a display of kindness as to concentrate on his single person all that you can be possibly induced to bestow for my sake upon my friends. As for him I guarantee—not in the sense of that hackneyed expression of mine, at which, when I used it in writing to you about Milo, you very properly jested, but in good Roman language such as sober men use—that no honester, better, or more modest man exists. Added to this, he is at the top of his profession as a jurisconsult, possesses an unequaled memory, and the most profound learning. For such a man I ask neither a tribuneship, prefecture, nor any definite office, I ask only

your goodwill and liberality: and yet I do not wish to prevent your complimenting him, if it so please you, with even these marks of distinction. In fact, I transfer him entirely from my hand, so to speak, to yours, which is as sure a pledge of good faith as of victory. Excuse my being somewhat importunate, though with a man like you there can hardly be any pretext for it—however, I feel that it will be allowed to pass. Be careful of your health and continue to love me as ever.

CXXXV (F VII, 6)

TO C. TREBATIUS TESTA (IN GAUL) CUMAE (APRIL)

In all my letters to Caesar or Balbus there is a sort of statutory appendix containing a recommendation of you, and not one of the ordinary kind, but accompanied by some signal mark of my warm feeling towards you. See only that you get rid of that feeble regret of yours for the city and city ways, and carry out with persistence and courage what you had in your mind when you set out. We, your friends, shall pardon your going away for that purpose as much as The wealthy noble dames who held the Corinthian peak
pardoned Medea, whom, with hands whitened to the utmost with chalk, she persuaded not to think ill of her for being absent from her fatherland: for Many have served themselves abroad and served the state as well;
Many have spent their lives at home to be but counted fools.
In which latter category you would have certainly been, had I not forced you abroad. But I will write more another time. You who learnt to look out for others, look out, while in Britain, that you are not yourself taken in by the charioteers; and, since I have begun quoting the Medea, remember this line: The sage who cannot serve himself is vainly wise I ween.
Take care of your health. ^[Note]

CXXXVI (F VII, 7)

TO C. TREBATIUS TESTA (ON HIS WAY TO GAUL) CUMAE (APRIL OR MAY)

For my part, I never cease recommending you, but I am eager to know from you how far my recommendation is of service. My chief hope is in Balbus, to whom I write about you with the greatest earnestness and frequency. It often excites my wonder that I don't hear from you as often as from my brother Quintus. In Britain I am told there is no gold or silver. If that turns out to be the case, I advise you to capture a war-chariot and hasten back to us at the earliest opportunity. But if—letting Britain alone—we can still obtain what we want, take care to get on intimate terms with Caesar. In that respect my brother will be of much use to you, so will Balbus, but most of all, believe me, your own modesty and industry. You have an imperator of the most liberal character, your age is exactly the best one for employment, and your recommendation at any rate is quite unique, so that all you have to fear is not doing yourself full justice.

CXXXIX (F VII, 8)

TO C. TREBATIUS TESTA (IN GAUL) ROME (JUNE)

Caesar has written me a very courteous letter saying that he has not yet seen as much of you as he could wish, owing to his press of business, but that he certainly will do so. I have answered his letter and told him how much obliged I shall be if he bestows on you as much attention, kindness, and liberality as he can. But I gathered from your letters that you are in somewhat too great a hurry: and at the same time I wondered why you despised the profits of a military

tribuneship, especially as you are exempted from the labour of military duty. I shall express my discontent to Vacerra and Manilius: for I dare not say a word to Cornelius, ^[Note] who is responsible for your unwise conduct, since you profess to have learnt legal wisdom from him. Rather press on your opportunity and the means put into your hands, than which none better will ever be found. As to what you say of the jurist Precianus, I never cease recommending you to him; for he writes me word that you owe him thanks. Be sure to let me know to what that refers. I am waiting for a letter from you dated "Britain." ^[Note]

CXLIV (F VII, 9)

TO C. TREBATIUS TESTA (IN GAUL) ROME (SEPTEMBER)

It is a long time since I heard how you were getting on: for you don't write, nor have I written to you for the last two months. As you were not with my brother Quintus I did not know where to send a letter, or to whom to give it. I am anxious to know how you are and where you mean to winter. For my part, my opinion is that you should do so with Caesar; but I have not ventured to write to him owing to his mourning. ^[Note] I would rather you put off your return to us, so long as you come with fuller pockets. There is nothing to make you hurry home, especially since "Battara" ^[Note] is dead. But you are quite capable of thinking for yourself. I desire to know what you have settled. There is a certain Cn. Octavius or Cn. Cornelius, a friend of yours, Of highest race begot, a son of Earth.
He has frequently asked me to dinner, because he knows that you are an intimate friend of mine. At present he has not succeeded in getting me: however, I am much obliged to him.

CLX (F VII, 10)

TO C. TREBATIUS TESTA (IN GAUL) ROME (NOVEMBER)

I have read your letter which informs me that our Caesar considers you a great lawyer. You must be glad to have found a country where you have the credit of knowing something. But if you had gone to Britain also, I feel sure that there would not have been in all that great island anyone more learned in the law than you. However—you won't mind my laughing, for you invited me to do so—I am becoming positively a little jealous of you! That you should have been actually sent for by a man whom other people—not because of his pride, but of his many engagements—cannot venture to approach!

But in that letter you told me nothing about your success, which, by heaven, is of no less concern to me than my own. I am very much afraid you may be frozen in your winter quarters: and therefore I think you ought to use a good stove. Mucius and Manilius "concur" in this opinion, especially on the ground of your being short of military cloaks. However, I am told that you are having a sufficiently warm time of it where you are—news which made me much alarmed for you. ^[Note] However, in military matters you are much more cautious than at the bar, seeing that you wouldn't take a swim in the ocean, fond of swimming as you are, and wouldn't take a look at the British charioteers, though in old time I could never cheat you even out of a blind-folded

gladiator. ^[Note] But enough of joking. You know how earnestly I have written to Caesar about you; I know bow often. Yet, in truth, I have lately ceased doing so, lest I should appear to distrust the kindness of a man who has been most liberal and affectionate to me. However, in the very last letter I wrote I thought he ought to be reminded. I did so. Please tell me what effect it had, and at the same time tell me about your position in general and all your plans. For I am anxious to know what you are doing, what you are expecting, how long your separation from us you think is to last. I would wish you to believe that the one consolation, enabling me to bear your absence, is the knowledge that it is for your advantage. But if that is not so, nothing can be more foolish than both the one and the other of us: me for not inducing you to come back to Rome—you for not flying thither. By heavens, our conversation, whether serious or jesting, will be worth more not only than the enemy, but even than our "brothers" the Haedui. ^[Note] Wherefore let me know about everything as soon as possible: I'll be some use by comfort, rede, or peif.
^[Note]

CLXVI (F VII, II)

TO C. TREBATIUS TESTA (IN GAUL) ROME (JANUARY OR FEBRUARY)

If you had not left Rome before, you certainly would have left it now. For who wants a lawyer when there are so many interregna? I shall advise all defendants in civil suits to ask each interrex for two adjournments for obtaining legal assistance. ^[Note] Do you think that I have taken a pretty good hint from you as to civil procedure? But come! How are you? What is happening? For I notice in your letter a tendency to be even jocose. These are better signs than the signa in my Tusculan villa. ^[Note] But I want to know what it means. You say, indeed, that you are consulted by Caesar, but I should have preferred his consulting by you. If that is taking place, or you think it likely to take place, by all means persevere in your military service and stay on: I shall console myself for my loss of you by the hope that it will be your gain: but if, on the other hand, things are not paying with you, come back to us. For either something will turn up sooner or later here, or, if not, one conversation between you and me, by heaven, will be worth more than all the Samobrivae ^[Note] in the world. Finally, if you return speedily, there will be no talk about it; but if you stay away much longer without getting anything, I am in terror not only of Laberius, but of our comrade Valerius also. For it

would make a capital character for a farce—a British lawyer! ^[Note] I am not laughing though you may laugh, but, as usual, when writing to you, I jest on the most serious subject. Joking apart, I advise you in the most friendly spirit, that if you hold a position for yourself worthy of my introduction, you should put up with the loss of my society and farther your own career and wealth: but if things are stagnant with you there, come back to us. In spite of everything you will get all you want, by your own good qualities certainly, but also by my extreme affection for you.

CLXIX (F VII, 12)

TO C. TREBATIUS TESTA (IN GAUL) ROME (?FEBRUARY)

I was wondering what had made you cease writing to me. My friend Pansa ^[Note] has informed me that you have become an Epicurean! What a wonderful camp yours must be! What would you have done if I had sent you to Tarentum ^[Note] instead of Samobriva? I was already a little doubtful about you, when I found you supporting the same doctrine as my friend Selius ! ^[Note] But on what ground will you support the principles of civil law, if you act always in your own interest and not in that of your fellow citizens? What, too, is to become of the legal formula in cases of trust, "as should be done among honest men"? For who can be called honest who does nothing except on his own behalf? What principle will you lay down "in dividing a common property," when nothing can be "common" among men who measure all things by their own pleasure ? ^[Note] How, again, can you ever think it right to swear by Jupiter lapis, when you know that Jupiter cannot

be angry with anyone? ^[Note] What is to become of the people of Ulubrae, ^[Note] if you have decided that it is not right to take part in civic business? Wherefore, if you are really and truly a pervert from our faith, I am much annoyed; but if you merely find it convenient to humour Pansa, I forgive you. Only do write and tell us how you are, and what you want me to do or to look after for you.

CLXX (F VII, 13)

TO C. TREBATIUS TESTA (IN GAUL) ROME; 4 MARCH

Did you suppose me to be so unjust as to be angry with you from the idea that you were not sufficiently persevering and were too eager to return, and do you think that that is the reason of my long silence? I was certainly annoyed by the uneasiness of your spirits, which your first letters conveyed to me; but there was absolutely no other reason for the interruption of my own, except my complete ignorance of your address. Are you still, at this time of day, finding fault with me, and do you refuse to accept my apology? Just listen to me, my dear Testa! Is it money that is making you prouder, or the fact that your commander-in-chief consults you? May I die if I don't believe that such is your vanity

that you would rather be consulted by Caesar than gilded ^[Note] by him! But if both reasons are true, who will be able to put up with you except myself, who can put up with anything? But to return to our subject—I am exceedingly glad that you are content to be where you are, and as your former state of mind was vexatious, so your present is gratifying, to me. I am only afraid that your special profession may be of little advantage to you: for, as I am told, in your present abode They lay no claim by joining lawful hands,
But Challenge right with steel.
^[Note] But you are not wont ^[Note] to be called in to assist at a "forcible entry." Nor have you any reason to be afraid of the usual proviso in the injunction, "into which you have not previously made entry by force and armed men," for I am well assured that you are not a man of violence. But to give you some hint as to what you lawyers call "securities," I opine that you should avoid the Treviri; I hear they are real tresviri capitales—deadly customers: I should; have preferred their being tresviri of the mint! ^[Note] But a truce to jesting for the present. Pray write to me in the fullest detail of all that concerns you.

4 March.

CLXXI (F VII, 14)

TO C. TREBATIUS TESTA (IN GAUL) ROME (?MARCH)

Chrysippus Vettius, a freedman of the architect Cyrus, made me think that you had not quite forgotten me; for he has brought me a greeting in your words. You have grown a mighty fine gentleman, that you can't take the trouble of writing a letter to me—a man, I might almost say, of your own family! But if you have forgotten how to write, all the fewer clients will lose their causes by having you as their advocate! If you have forgotten me, I will take the trouble of paying you a visit where you are, before I have quite faded out of your mind. If it is a terror of the summer camp that is disheartening you, think of some excuse to get off, as you did in the Case of Britain. I was glad to hear one thing from that same Chrysippus, that you were on friendly terms with Caesar. But, by Hercules, I should have preferred, as I might fairly have expected, to be informed of your fortunes as frequently as possible from your own letters. And this would certainly have been the case, if you had been more forward to learn the laws of friendship than of suits in court. But this is all jest in your own vein, and to some degree in mine also. I love you very dearly, and I both wish to be loved by you and feel certain that I am.

CLXXIII (F VII, 15)

TO C. TREBATIUS TESTA (IN GAUL) ROME

How wayward people are who love may be gathered from this: I was formerly annoyed that you were discontented at being where you are: now, on the contrary, it stings me to the heart that you write that you are quite happy there. For I did not like your not being pleased at my recommendation,

and now I am vexed that you can find anything pleasant without me. But, after all, I prefer enduring your absence to your not getting what I hope for you. However, I cannot say how pleased I am that you have become intimate with that most delightful man and excellent scholar, C. Matius. ^[Note] Do your best to make him as fond of you as possible. Believe me, you can bring nothing home from your province that will give you greater pleasure. Take care of your health.

CLVI (F VII, 16)

TO C. TREBATIUS TESTA (IN GAUL) ROME (NOVEMBER)

In the "Trojan Horse," just at the end, you remember the words, Too late they learn wisdom.
^[Note] You, however, old man, were wise in time. Those first snappy letters of yours were foolish enough, and then——! I don't at all blame you for not being over-curious in regard to Britain. For the present, however, you seem to be in winter quarters somewhat short of warm clothing, and therefore not caring to stir out : Not here and there, but everywhere,
Be wise and ware:
No sharper steel can warrior bear.
If I had been by way of dining out, I would not have failed your friend Cn. Octavius; to whom, however, I did remark upon his repeated invitations, "Pray, who are you?" But, by Hercules, joking apart, he is a pretty fellow: I could have wished you had taken him with you! Let me know for certain what you are doing and whether you intend coming to Italy at all this winter. Balbus has assured me that you will be rich. Whether he speaks after the simple Roman fashion, meaning that you will be well supplied with money, or according to the Stoic dictum, that "all are rich who can enjoy the sky and the earth," I shall know hereafter. Those who come from your part accuse you of pride, because they say you won't answer men who put questions to you. However, there is one thing that will please you: they all agree in saying that there is no better lawyer than you at Samarobriva! ^[Note]

CXLV (F VII, 17)

TO C. TREBATIUS TESTA (IN GAUL) ROME (SEPTEMBER)

From what I gather from your letter I have thanked my brother Quintus, and can besides at last heartily commend you, because you at length seem to have come to some fixed resolution. For I was much put out by your letters in the first months of your absence, because at times you seemed to me—pardon the expression—to be light-minded in your longing for the city and city life, at others timid in undertaking military work, and often even a little inclined to presumption—a thing as unlike your usual self as can be. For, as though you had brought a bill of exchange, and not a letter of recommendation to your commander-in-chief, you were all in a hurry to get your money and return home ; and it never occurred to you that those who went to Alexandria ^[Note] with real bills of exchange have as yet not been able to get a farthing. If I looked only to my own interests, I should wish, above all things, to have you with me: for I used to find not only pleasure of no ordinary kind in your society, but also much advantage from your advice and active assistance. But since from your earliest manhood you had devoted yourself to my friendship and protection, I thought it my duty not only to see that you came to no harm, but to advance your fortunes and secure your promotion. Accordingly, as long as I thought I should be going abroad to a province, I am sure you remember the voluntary offers I made you. After that plan had been changed, perceiving that I was being treated by Caesar with the highest consideration, and was regarded by him with unusual affection, and knowing as I did his incredible liberality and unsurpassed loyalty to his word, I recommended you to him in the weightiest and most earnest words at my command.

And he accepted this recommendation in a gratifying manner, and repeatedly indicated to me in writing and shewed you by word and deed, that he had been powerfully affected by my recommendation. Having got such a man as your patron, if you believe me to have any insight, or to be your well-wisher, do not let him go; and if by chance something at times has annoyed you, when from being busy or in difficulties he has seemed to you somewhat slow to serve you, hold on and wait for the end, which I guarantee will be gratifying and honourable to you. I need not exhort you at any greater length: I only give you this warning, that you will never find a better opportunity, if you let this slip, either of securing the friendship of a most illustrious and liberal man, or of enjoying a wealthier province or a more suitable time of life. "Quintus Cornelius concurred," as you say in your law books. I am glad you didn't go to Britain, because you have been saved some hard work, and I the necessity of listening to your stories about that expedition. Pray write to me at full length as to where you are going to winter, and what your hopes and present position are.

CLXXII (F VII, 18)

TO C. TREBATIUS TESTA (IN GAUL) A VILLA IN THE AGER POMPTINUS, 8 APRIL

I have received several letters from you at the same time, written at various times, in which everything else gave me great pleasure; for they shewed that you were now sustaining

your military service with a brave spirit, and were a gallant and resolute man. These are qualities which for a short time I felt to be lacking in you, though I attributed your uneasiness not so much to any weakness of your own spirit, as to your feeling your absence from us. Therefore go on as you have begun: endure your service with a stout heart: believe me, the advantages you will gain are many; for I will reiterate my recommendation of you, though I shall wait for the right moment of doing so. Be assured that you are not more anxious that your separation from me should be as profitable as possible to yourself than I am. Accordingly, as your "securities" are somewhat weak, I have sent you one in my poor Greek, written by my own hand. ^[Note] For your part, I should wish you to keep me informed of the course of the war in Gaul: for the less warlike my informant, the more inclined I am to believe him.

But to return to your letters. Everything else (as I said) is prettily written, but I do wonder at this : who in the world sends several identical letters, when he writes them with his own hand? For your writing on paper that has been used before, I commend your economy: but I can't help wondering what it was that you preferred to rub out of this bit of paper rather than not write such poor stuff as this—unless it were, perhaps, some of your legal formulas. For I don't suppose you rub out my letters to replace them with your own. Can it mean that there is no business going on, that you are out of work, that you haven't even a supply of paper? Well, that is entirely your own fault, for taking your modesty abroad with you instead of leaving it behind here with us. I

will commend you to Balbus, when he starts to join you, in the good old Roman style. Don't be astonished if there is a somewhat longer interval than usual between my letters: for I intend being out of town in April. I write this letter in the Pomptine district, having put up at the villa of M. Aemilius Philemo, from which I could hear the noise of my clients, I mean those you confided to me For at Ulubrae it is Certain that an enormous mass of frogs have bestirred themselves to do me honour. Take care of your health. ^[Note]

8 April, from the Ager Pomptinus.

P.S.—Your letter which I received from L. Arruntius I have torn up, though it didn't deserve it for it had nothing in it which might not have been safely read in a public meeting. But not only did Arruntius say that such were your orders, but you had appended a similar injunction to your letter. Well, be it so! I am surprised at your not having written anything to me since, especially as you are in the midst of such stirring events. ^[Note]

DCCLXXIII (F VII, 19)

TO GAIUS TREBATIUS (AT ROME) RHEGIUM, 28 JULY

SEE how greatly I value you: and it is no more than your due, for I do not surpass you in affection. However, what I almost refused, or at any rate did not give you, when you were with me, I could not make up my mind to continue to owe you now that you are away. Accordingly, no sooner had I begun my voyage from Velia than I set to work to translate Aristotle's Topica, having been reminded by the sight of a city so warmly attached to you. I send you this book from Rhegium written in as clear a style as the subject admitted. But if certain parts appear to you to be somewhat obscure, you must reflect that no art can be learnt out of books without some one to explain it and without some practical exercise in it. You will not have to go far for an instance. Can the art of you jurisconsults be learnt out of books? Though there are a great number of them, they yet require a teacher and actual practice. However, if you read this with attention and repeatedly, you will be able to grasp the whole subject by yourself—at least so far as to

understand it. But that such loci communes should at once occur to your own mind upon any question being proposed, you can only secure by practice. To this, indeed, I shall keep you, if I get home safe and find things safe at Rome.

28 July, Rhegium.

DCCLXXI (F VII, 20)

TO GAIUS TREBATIUS (AT ROME) VELIA, 20 JULY

Velia seemed to me the more charming because I perceived that you were popular there. But why name you, who are a universal favourite? Even your friend Rufio, upon my word, was as much in request as though he had been one of us. But I don't blame you for having taken him away to superintend your building operations; for although Velia is as valuable as the Lupercal, yet I would rather be where you are than own all your property here. If you will listen to me, as you usually do, you will keep this paternal estate—for the Velians seemed a little afraid that you wouldn't—and will not abandon that noble stream, the Hales, nor desert the Papirian mansion—though that other has a famous lotus

which attracts even foreign visitors, but which would after all much improve your view if it were cut down. But, above all, it seems a most desirable thing, especially in such times as these, to have as a refuge in the first place a town whose citizens are attached to you, and in the second place a house and lands of your own, and that in a retired, healthy, and picturesque spot. And this, my dear Trebatius, is to my interest also, I think. But keep well and see to my affairs, and expect me home D.V. before the winter. I carried off from Sextus Fadius, Nico's pupil, the essay of Nico's "On Over-eating." What a pleasant doctor! And what a ready scholar am I in such a school as that! But our friend Bassus ^[Note] kept me in the dark about that book: not so you, it seems. The wind is rising. Take care of yourself.

Velia, 20th July.

DCCLVII (F VII, 21)

TO C. TREBATIUS TESTA (AT ROME) (TUSCULUM, JUNE)

I have explained Silius's case to you. He has since been to see me. When I told him that in your opinion we might safely make that stipulation, "In case the praetor Q. Caepio, in accordance with his edict, has granted me possession of Turpilia's estate," ^[Note] he remarked, that Servius's doctrine was that a will made by a party who had not the legal power of making one was no will, and Ofilius concurred. He said he had had no talk with you, and asked me to commend his cause to your care. There is no better man, my dear Testa, nor anyone more attached to me than Publius Silius, yourself however excepted.

You will therefore very much oblige me if you will go to him and volunteer your services: and if you love me, do so as soon as possible. I beg you warmly and repeatedly to do this. xvi. 7. He didn't wish it to be thought that he was going to Greece to attend the Olympic games.

DCCLVIII (F VII, 22)

TO C. TREBATIUS TESTA (AT ROME) (?TUSCULUM, JUNE)

YOU jeered at me yesterday amidst our cups, for having said that it was a disputed point whether an heir could lawfully prosecute on an embezzlement which had been committed before he became the owner. Accordingly, though I returned home full of wine and late in the evening, I marked the section in which that question is treated and caused it to be copied out and sent to you. I wanted to convince you that the doctrine which you said was held by no one was maintained by Sextus Aelius, Manius Manilius, Marcus Brutus. ^[Note] Nevertheless, I concur with Scaevola and Testa. ^[Note]

CXXV (F VII, 23)

TO M. FADIUS GALLUS ROME (MAY)

I had only just arrived from Arpinum when your letter was delivered to me; and from the same bearer I received a letter from Arrianus, ^[Note] in which there was this most liberal offer, that when he came to Rome he would enter my debt to him on whatever day I chose. Pray put yourself in my place : is it consistent with your modesty or mine, first to prefer a request as to the day, and then to ask more than a year's credit? But, my dear Gallus, everything would have been easy, if you had bought the things I wanted, and only up to the price that I wished. However, the purchases which, according to your letter, you have made shall not only be ratified by me, but with gratitude besides: for I fully understand that you have displayed zeal and affection in purchasing (because you thought them worthy of me) things which pleased yourself—a man, as I have ever thought, of the most fastidious judgment in all matters of taste. Still, I should like Damasippus ^[Note] to abide by his decision: for there

is absolutely none of those purchases that I care to have. But you, being unacquainted with my habits, have bought four or five of your selection at a price at which I do not value any statues in the world. You compare your Bacchae with Metellus's Muses. Where is the likeness? To begin with, I should never have considered the Muses worth all that money, and I think all the Muses would have approved my judgment: still, it would have been appropriate to a library, and in harmony with my pursuits. But Bacchae! What place is there in my house for them? But, you will say, they are pretty. I know them very well and have often seen them. I would have commissioned you definitely in the case of statues known to me, if I had decided on them. The sort of statues that I am accustomed to buy are such as may adorn a place in a palaestra after the fashion of gymnasia. ^[Note] What, again, have I, the promoter of peace, to do with a statue of Mars? I am glad there was not a statue of Saturn also: for I should have thought these two statues had brought me debt! I should have preferred some representation of Mercury: I might then, I suppose, have made a more favourable bargain with Arrianus. You say you meant the table-stand ^[Note] for yourself; well, if you like it, keep it. But if you have changed your mind I will, of course, have it. For the money you have laid out, indeed, I would rather have purchased a place of call at Tarracina, ^[Note] to prevent my being always a burden on my host. Altogether I perceive that the fault is with my freedman, whom I had distinctly commissioned to purchase certain definite things, and also with Iunius, whom I think you know, an intimate friend of Arrianus. I have constructed some new sitting-rooms in a miniature colonnade on my Tusculan property. I want to ornament them with pictures: for if I take pleasure in anything of that sort it is in painting. However, if I am to have what you have bought, I should like you to inform me where they are, when they are to be fetched, and by what

kind of conveyance. For if Damasippus doesn't abide by hs decision, I shall look for some would-be Damasippus, ^[Note] even at a loss.

As to what you say about the house, as I was going out of town I intrusted the matter to my daughter Tullia : ^[Note] for it was at the very hour of my departure that I got your letter. I also discussed the matter with your friend Nicias, because he is, as you know, intimate with Cassius. On my return, however, before I got your last letter, I asked Tullia what she had done. She said that she had approached Licinia ^[Note] (though I think Cassius is not very intimate with his sister), and that she at once said that she could not venture, in the absence of her husband (Dexius is gone to Spain), to change houses without his being there and knowing about it. I am much gratified that you should value association with me and my domestic life so highly, as, in the first place, to take a house which would enable you to live not only near me, but absolutely with me, and, in the second place, to be in such a hurry to make this change of residence. But, upon my life, I do not yield to you in eagerness for that arrangement. So I will try every means in my power. For I see the advantage to myself, and, indeed, the advantages to us both. If I succeed in doing anything, I will let you know. Mind you also write me word back on everything, and let me know, if you please, when I am to expect you.

DCLXII (F VII, 24)

TO M. FADIUS GALLUS (AT ROME) TUSCULUM (AUGUST)

I find the traces of your affection whichever way I turn: for instance, quite recently in the matter of Tigellius. ^[Note] I perceived from your letter that you had taken a great deal of trouble. I therefore thank you for your kind intention. But I must say a few words on the subject. Cipius I think it was who said, "I am not asleep to everybody." ^[Note] Thus I too, my dear Gallus, am not a slave to everybody. Yet

what, after all, is this slavery? In old times, when I was thought to be exercising royal power, ^[Note] I was not treated with such deference as I am now by all Caesar's most intimate friends, except by this fellow. I regard it as something gained that I no longer endure a fellow more pestilent than his native land, ^[Note] and I think his value has been pretty well appraised in the Hipponactean verses of Licinius Calvus. ^[Note] But observe the cause of his anger with me. I had undertaken Phamea's cause, for his own sake, because he was an intimate friend. Phamea came to me and said that the arbitrator had arranged to take his case on the very day on which the jury were obliged to consider their verdict in regard to P. Sestius. ^[Note] I answered that I could not possibly manage it: but that if he selected any other day he chose, I would not fail to appear for him. He, however, knowing that he had a grandson who was a fashionable flutist and singer, ^[Note] left me, as I thought, in a somewhat angry frame of mind. There is a pair of "Sardians-for-sale" ^[Note] for you, one more worthless than the other. You now know my position and the unfairness of that swaggerer. Send me your "Cato": I am eager to read it: that I haven't read it yet is a reflexion on us both.

DCLXV (F VII, 25)

TO M. FADIUS GALLUS (AT ROME) TUSCULUM (AUGUST)

You lament having torn up the letter: don't vex yourself, it is all safe. You can get it from my house whenever you please. For the warning you give me I am much obliged, and I beg you will always act thus. For you seem to fear that, unless I keep on good terms with him, I may laugh "a real Sardinian laugh." ^[Note] But look out for yourself. Hands off: our master is coming sooner than we thought. I fear we Catonian blockheads may find ourselves on the block. ^[Note] My dear Gallus, don't imagine that anything could be better than that part of your letter which begins: "Everything else is slipping away." This in your ear in confidence: keep it to yourself: don't tell even your freed-man Apelles. Besides us two no one talks in that tone.

Whether it is well or ill to do so, that is my look-out: but whatever it is, it is our speciality. Work on then, and don't stir a nail's breadth, as they say, from the pen; for it is the creator of eloquence: ^[Note] and for my part I now devote a considerable part of the night to it also.

XCIII (F VII, 26)

TO M. FADIUS GALLUS (AT ROME) TUSCULUM

^[Note] (? DECEMBER) Having been suffering for nine days past from a severe disorder of the bowels, and being unable to convince those who desired my services that I was ill because I had no fever, I fled to my Tusculan villa, after having, in fact, observed for two days so strict a fast as not even to drink a drop of water. Accordingly, being thoroughly reduced by weakness and hunger, I was more in want of your services than I thought mine could be required by you. For myself, while skrinking from all illnesses, I especially shrink from that in regard to which the Stoics attack your friend Epicurus for saying that "he suffered from strangury and pains in the bowels"—the latter of which complaints they attribute to gluttony, the former to a still graver indulgence. I had been really much afraid of dysentery. But either the change of residence, or the mere relaxation of anxiety, or perhaps the natural abatement of the complaint from lapse of time, seems to me to have done me good. However, to prevent

your wondering how this Came about, or in what manner I let myself in for it, I must tell you that the sumptuary law, supposed to have introduced plain living, was the origin of my misfortune. For whilst your epicures wish to bring into fashion the products of the earth, which are not forbidden by the law, they flavour mushrooms, petits choux, and every kind of pot-herb so as to make them the most tempting dishes possible. ^[Note] Having fallen a victim to these in the augural banquet at the house of Lentulus, I was seized with a violent diarrhoea, which, I think, has been checked today for the first time. And so I, who abstain from oysters and lampreys without any difficulty, have been beguiled by beet and mallows. Henceforth, therefore, I shall be more cautious. Yet, having heard of it from Anicius ^[Note] —for he saw me turning sick—you had every reason not only for sending to inquire, but even for coming to see me. I am thinking of remaining here till I am thoroughly restored, for I have lost both strength and flesh. However, if I can once get completely rid of my complaint, I shall, I hope, easily recover these.

CDLXXIV (F VII, 27)

TO TITUS FADIUS GALLUS (IN EXILE) ROME (?)

I am surprised at your finding fault with me, when etiquette forbids it. ^[Note] Even if there had been no such obstacle, you ought not to have done it. "Why I shewed you attention in your consulship"—and then you go on to say that Caesar will certainly recall you. Well, you have a great deal to say, but nobody believes you. You allege that you stood for the tribuneship for my sake. I wish you had always been a tribune, then you would not have wanted anyone to intervene! You say that I dare not speak what I think, on the ground that I did not give a sufficiently spirited answer to a shameless request of yours. I write thus to shew you that even in that peculiar style of composition, in which you desire to be forcible, you are nil. But if you had presented your grievance to me in a reasonable spirit, I should have cleared myself in your eyes with readiness and ease: for I am not ungrateful for what you have done, but vexed with what you have written. Now I do wonder that you think me, the cause of everyone else's freedom, to be but a slave. For if the information—as you call it—which you gave me was false, what do I owe you? If true, you are the best witness of what the Roman people owe me.

CDLXXV (F VII, 28)

TO MANIUS CURIUS (IN ACHAIA) ROME (AUGUST)

I remember the time when I thought you foolish for associating with your friends over there rather than with us: for a residence in this city-while it was still a city at all-was much better suited to your culture and refinement than all the Peloponnesus put together, to say nothing of Patrae. Now, however, on the contrary you seem to me to have been long-sighted for having settled in Greece when things here were in a desperate condition, and at the present crisis not only to be wise for being abroad, but happy as well. And yet what man of any discernment can be happy at present? But what you, who could do so, have secured by the use of your feet-removal to a place "Where of the Pelopidae" ^[Note] (you know the rest)-I am getting by a different method. For, after giving myself up to the reception of my friends which is more crowded than it used to be, precisely because they imagine that in a citizen of honest sentiments they see a rare bird of good omen, I bury myself in my library. Accordingly, I am completing works of an importance which you will perhaps appreciate. For in a certain talk I had with you at your house, when you were finding fault with my gloom and despair, I understood you to say, that you could not recognize the old high spirit in my books. ^[Note] But, by Hercules, at that time I was mourning for the

Republic—which by its services to me, and no less by mine to it, was dearer to me than my life. And even now, though not only is reason (which ought to be more powerful than anything) consoling me, but also time which cures even fools, yet I am nevertheless grieving that the general interests are in such a state of collapse, that no hope even is left of any future improvement. Not that in the present instance the fault is his, in whose power everything is—unless by any chance that very fact is not as it should be—but some things by accident and others by my own fault also have so fallen out, that complaint on my part for the past is barred. Hope for the future I see none. Therefore I return to what I said at first: you have left all this wisely, if you did so by design; luckily, if by accident.

DCLXXIV (F VII, 29)

MANIUS CURIUS TO CICERO (AT ROME) PATRAE, 29 OCTOBER

If you are well, I am glad; for I am yours by usus, Atticus's in full dominium. therefore the usufruct of me is yours, the ownership his. ^[Note] If indeed he puts us up for sale in one lot, he

won t make much of us. But what an addition to my selling price will be my declaration that whatever I am or have, and whatever position I enjoy in the world, is all owing to you! Wherefore, my dear Cicero, persevere in your constant care for my welfare, and recommend me in a letter of introduction of the finest brand to the successor of Sulpicius. I shall thereby have greater facility in obeying your maxims, and of seeing you to my joy by the spring, and of breaking up my establishment and bringing my belongings safely home. But, my dear distinguished friend, do not shew this letter to Atticus. Let him continue to regard me as heart and soul his, and not as one who "whitewashes two walls out of the same pot." ^[Note] So, patron mine, good-bye to you, and give Tiro kind regards from me.

29 October.

DCXCI (F VII, 30)

TO MANIUS CURIUS (AT PATRAE) ROME (JANUARY)

No, I now neither urge nor ask you to return home. Nay, I am longing myself to fly away and to arrive somewhere, where "I may hear neither the name nor the deeds of the Pelopidae." ^[Note] You could scarcely believe how disgraceful my conduct appears to me in countenancing the present state of things. Truly, I think you foresaw long ago what was

impending, at the time when you fled from Rome. Though these things are painful even to hear of; yet after all hearing is more bearable than seeing. At any rate you were not on the Campus Martius when, the comitia for the quaestors being opened at 7 o'clock in the morning, the curule chair of Q. Maximus—whom that party affirmed to be consul ^[Note] —was set in its place, and then on his death being announced was removed: whereupon Caesar, who had taken the auspices as for a comitia tributa, held a comitia centuriata, ^[Note] and between 12 and 1 o'clock announced the election of a consul to hold office till the 1st of January, which was the next day. Thus I may inform you that no one breakfasted in the consulship of Caninius. ^[Note] However, no mischief was done while he was consul, for he was of such astonishing vigilance that throughout his consulship he never had a wink of sleep. You think this a joke, for you are not here. If you had been you would not have refrained from tears. There is a great deal else that I might tell you; for there are countless transactions of the same kind. I in fact could not have endured them had I not taken refuge in the harbour of Philosophy, and had I not had my friend Atticus as a companion in my studies. You say you are his by right of ownership and legal bond, but mine in regard to enjoyment and profit: well, I am content with that, for a man's property may be defined as that which he enjoys and of which he has the profit. ^[Note] But of this another time at greater length.

Acilius, ^[Note] who has been despatched to Greece with the

legions, is under a great obligation to me—for he has been twice successfully defended by me on a capital charge. He is not a man either of an ungrateful disposition, and pays me very constant attention. I have written to him in very strong terms about you, and am attaching the letter to this packet. Please let me know how he has taken it, and what promises he has made you.

DCXCIV (F VII, 31)

TO MANIUS CURIUS (AT PATRAE) ROME (FEBRUARY)

I had no difficulty in gathering from your letter, what I have always been anxious for, that I am very highly valued by you, and that you are fully aware how dear you are to me. As, then, we are both convinced of that, it remains for us to enter upon a rivalry of good offices. In that contest I shall be equally content to surpass you or to be surpassed by you. I am not displeased to find that there was no need for my letter being handed to Acilius. I gather from your letter that you had no great occasion for the services of Sulpicius, because your affairs had been so much reduced in magnitude, that they had "neither head nor feet." I could wish that they had "feet," that you might come back to Rome some day. For you see that the old fountain of humour has run dry, so that by this time our poet Pomponius might say with good reason:

We only guard—a dwindling band—
The ancient fame of Attic land.
So he is your successor, I his. Come, therefore, I beg, lest the seed for the harvest of wit perish along with the republic.

CCXXVIII (F VII, 32)

TO P. VOLUMNIUS EUTRAPELUS (AT ROME) CILICIA (DECEMBER)

Owing to your having in familiar style, as you were quite entitled to do, dropped your praenomen in your letter to me, I was at first doubtful whether it did not come from Volumnius the senator, with whom I am very intimate, but presently the εὐτραπελία of the letter itself convinced, me that it was yours. ^[Note] In that letter I was delighted with everything except this: you are not shewing yourself a very energetic agent in maintaining my rights in my mines of (Attic) salt. For you say that, ever since my departure, everybody's bons mots, and among those even Sestius's, ^[Note] are fathered on me.

What! do you allow that? Don't you stand up for me? Don't you protest? Why, I did hope that I had left my bons mots with such a clear stamp on them, that their style might be recognized at a glance. But as there is so much scum in the city, that nothing can be so graceless as not to seem graceful ^[Note] to some one, do your best, an you love me, to maintain, on your solemn affidavit, ^[Note] that they are none of mine, unless sharp double meaning, subtle hyperbole, neat pun, laughable παρὰ προσδοκίαν—unless everything else, in fact, which I set forth in the person of Antonius in my second book de Oratore
, ^[Note] shall appear en règle and really witty. For as to your complaints about the law courts I care much less. Let all the defendants, for what I care, go hang! If Selius himself is eloquent enough to establish his freedom, I don't trouble myself. But my prerogative of wit, please let us defend by any amount of injunctions. In that department you are the only rival I fear: I don't think anything of the rest. Do you suppose I am laughing at you? I never knew before that you were so sharp! But, by Hercules, joking apart, I did think your letter very witty and neatly turned. But those particular stories, ^[Note] laughable as they in fact were, did not, all the same, make me laugh. For I am anxious that the friend to whom you refer should have as much weight as possible in his tribuneship, both for his own sake—for, as

you know, he is a great favourite of mine—and also, by Hercules, for that of the Republic, which, however, ungrateful to myself it may be, I shall never cease to love. You, however, my dear Volumnius, since you have begun doing so, and now see also that it gives me pleasure, write to me as often as possible about affairs in the city, about politics. I like the gossiping style of your letter. Farther—more, speak seriously to Dolabella, whom I see and believe to be very anxious for my regard, and to be most affectionately disposed towards me: encourage him in that disposition, and make him wholly mine; not, by Hercules, that there is anything lacking in him, but as I am very much set upon it, I don't think I am showing too much anxiety.

CDLXXII (F VII, 33)

TO P. VOLUMNIUS EUTRAPELUS ROME (JULY)

You ^[Note] don't lose much by not being present at my oratorical lectures. You say you would have been envious of Hirtius, if you had not loved him: you had no reason for being envious; unless it was of his own eloquence by any chance that you were envious rather than of his being my pupil. The fact is, my dearest Volumnius, I am either a complete failure, or feel myself to be so, now that those members of my set, by whose support (joined with your applause) I once flourished, are lost: so that if I ever did produce anything worthy of my reputation, let us sigh that, as Philoctetes says in Accius, "These arrows now are fleshed —all glory lost." But, after all, things will be more cheerful with me all round if you come: though you will come, as you understand

without my telling you, to what I may call an immense bombardment of business. If I can once deal with this as I wish, I will really say a long good-bye to both forum and senate-house, and devote a great deal of time to you and our common friends, I mean your Cassius and our Dolabella—or rather I should call them both ours—who are fascinated with the same studies and find me a very indulgent listener. To carry this on we need your refined and polished judgment, and that deeper tinge of literature by which ^[Note] you often make me feel somewhat diffident of myself while speaking. For I have quite made up my mind, if only Caesar will either allow or order it, to lay aside that r™le in which I have often won even his approval, and to throw myself entirely into the obscurity of literature, and in company of other devotees of it to enjoy the most honourable kind of leisure. For you, I could have wished that you had not felt afraid of my being much bored ^[Note] with reading your letter, if' as you say, you chance to send me a somewhat long one; and I should like you henceforth to make up your mind that the longer a letter from you is, the better I shall like it.