Letter 202

Your letter terrified me. You made clear that you were thinking of something only grim, and although you did not spell out what it was, you still revealed what kind of thing you had in mind. I wrote this letter to you immediately. By your fortunes, Cicero, by your children, I beg and implore you not to decide anything too harsh about your life and safety. I call gods and men and our friendship to witness that I warned you beforehand, and that I did not warn you casually. After meeting Caesar and learning what his view would be if victory were won, I informed you. If you think Caesar's policy will be the same in releasing opponents and offering terms, you are wrong. He thinks and even speaks of nothing but severity and cruelty. He left Rome angry at the Senate, and these vetoes have plainly inflamed him. By Hercules, there will be no room for pleading. So if you care for yourself, your only son, your house, and your remaining hopes; if I or your excellent son-in-law have any influence with you, men whose fortunes you ought not to want to ruin; do not force us either to hate or abandon the cause in whose victory our safety lies, or to feel an unnatural desire against your safety. Finally, consider this: whatever offense there was in your delay, you have already incurred it. Now, when Caesar is victorious, it is the height of folly to act against the man you refused to harm while affairs were doubtful, and to join men in flight whom you refused to follow while they were resisting. Take care that, from shame at not seeming loyal enough to the better party, you do not choose too carelessly what is actually best. If I cannot persuade you completely, at least wait until we know what we are doing in Spain. I tell you the Spains will be ours once Caesar arrives. What hope those men can have if the Spains are lost, I do not know. What plan you have in joining desperate men, by heaven, I cannot discover. What you hinted to me without saying, Caesar had heard. As soon as he said hello, he explained what he had heard about you. I said I knew nothing, but I still asked him to send you a letter that could move you most strongly to remain. He is taking me with him to Spain. If he were not, before approaching the city I would have run to you wherever you were, pressed this case on you in person, and held you back with all my strength. Again and again, Cicero, think carefully. Do not overthrow yourself and all your family from the foundations. Do not knowingly and deliberately lower yourself into a place from which you see there is no exit. But if the voices of the loyalists move you, or if you cannot bear the arrogance and boasting of certain people, I think you should choose some town away from the war while these matters are decided, as they soon will be. If you do that, I will judge that you have acted wisely, and Caesar will not be offended.

In my dismay at your letter, in which you show that your thoughts are set on some unhappy act without saying exactly what it is, though you disclose sufficiently what kind of an act it is, I write this on the spot. In the name of your fortunes and your children, I beg and beseech you, Cicero, not to take any step that may endanger your life and safety. For I call gods and men and our friendship to witness that I told you before, and that it was no casual warning that I gave you, but certain information, after I had met Caesar and found out what his view would be, if he won the victory. If you imagine that he will maintain his present policy of letting his adversaries go and making peace, you are mistaken; he is meditating and even proclaiming nothing but cruelty and severity. He left Rome in anger with the Senate: these recent vetoes have clearly provoked him: you may take my word for it there will be no chance of begging off. Then, if you have any care for yourself, your only son, your house and what hopes you have left, if I and your excellent son-in-law have any influence with you—and you ought not to wish to spoil our fortunes—then do not compel us to hate or relinquish a cause, in whose victory our safety lies, or to harbour unnatural wishes for your destruction. Finally consider this: any offence there may have been in your hesitation, you have already given. Now it is the height of folly to side against Caesar in his hour of victory, when you refused to attack him while his fortunes were doubtful; and to join in the flight of those, whom you would not follow when they stood their ground. Beware lest for fear of showing too little zeal for the "better party," you use too little care in choosing the better course. But, if I cannot persuade you entirely, at least wait till it is known how we get on in Spain, which I assure you will be ours as soon as Caesar arrives. What your friends' hopes are, when they have lost Spain, is more than I know; and what your idea is in joining them, when they have no hopes, is more than I can imagine. What you hinted at without speaking plainly, Caesar had heard, and as soon as ever he had said "good day," he told me what he had heard about you. I said I knew nothing about it: but I asked him to send you a letter as the best means of inducing you to stay. He is taking me with him to Spain. If he were not, I should have hurried to you, before going to Rome, wherever you might have been, and should have pressed this view on you personally and done all in my power to restrain you. Once more and yet once more, Cicero, think before you utterly destroy yourself and all your family: do not wittingly and with your eyes open put yourself in a position from which you see there is no escape. But, if you are moved by the call of the conservative party, or if you cannot endure the insolence and arrogant behaviour of certain persons, I think you should choose some town remote from the war, until the matter is settled: and settled it will be at once. If you do that, I shall consider you have acted wisely, and Caesar will not be offended.

[1] exanimatus tuis litteris, quibus te nihil nisi triste cogitare ostendisti neque id quid esset perscripsisti neque non tamen quale esset quod cogitares aperuisti, has ad te ilico litteras scripsi. per fortunas tuas, Cicero, per liberos te oro et obsecro ne quid gravius de salute et incolumitate tua consulas. nam deos hominesque amicitiamque nostram testificor me tibi praedixisse neque temere monuisse sed, postquam Caesarem convenerim sententiamque eius qualis futura esset parta victoria cognorim, te certiorem fecisse. si existimas eandem rationem fore Caesaris in dimittendis adversariis et condicionibus ferendis, erras; nihil nisi atrox et saevum cogitat atque etiam loquitur; iratus senatui exiit, his intercessionibus plane incitatus est; non me hercules erit deprecationi locus. [2] qua re si tibi tu, si filius unicus, si domus, si spes tuae reliquae tibi carae sunt, si aliquid apud te nos, si vir optimus gener tuus valemus, quorum fortunam non debes velle conturbare, ut eam causam in quoius victoria salus nostra est odisse aut relinquere cogamur aut impiam cupiditatem contra salutem tuam habeamus—denique illud cogita, quod offensae fuerit in ista cunctatione te subisse. nunc te contra victorem Caesarem facere, quem dubiis rebus laedere noluisti, et ad eos fugatos accedere, quos resistentis sequi nolueris, summae stultitiae est. vide ne, dum pudet te parum optimatem esse, parum diligenter quid optimum sit eligas. quod si totum tibi persuadere non possum, saltem, dum quid de Hispaniis agamus scitur, exspecta; quas tibi nuntio adventu Caesaris fore nostras. quam isti spem habeant amissis Hispaniis nescio; quod porro tuum consilium sit ad desperatos accedere non medius fidius reperio. [4] hoc quod tu non dicendo mihi significasti Caesar audierat ac, simul atque 'have' mihi dixit, statim quid de te audisset exposuit. negavi me scire, sed tamen ab eo petii ut ad te litteras mitteret, quibus maxime ad remanendum commoveri posses. me secum in Hispaniam ducit; nam nisi ita faceret, ego, prius quam ad urbem accederem, ubicumque esses, ad te percucurrissem et hoc a te praesens contendissem atque omni vi te retinuissem. etiam atque etiam, Cicero, cogita ne te tuosque omnis funditus evertas, ne te sciens prudensque eo demittas unde exitum vides nullum esse. quod si te aut voces optimatium commovent aut non nullorum hominum insolentiam et iactationem ferre non potes, eligas censeo aliquod oppidum vacuum a bello, dum haec decernuntur; quae iam erunt confecta. id si feceris, et ego te sapienter fecisse iudicabo et Caesarem non offendes.