Marcus Tullius Cicero→Aulus Manlius Torquatus|c. 48 BC|Cicero|From Rome|To Rome|AI-assisted
Marcus Cicero sends warm greetings to Aulus Torquatus.
Although there is such an upheaval in all things that each man is utterly dissatisfied with his own lot, and there is no one who would not rather be anywhere else than where he is, nevertheless I have no doubt that at this time it is most wretched for a good man to be at Rome. For although, in whatever place a man finds himself, he has the same feeling and the same bitterness from the ruin both of public affairs and of his own, still the eyes increase the pain, since they are compelled to gaze upon those things which the rest only hear about, and they do not allow one to turn his thoughts away from these miseries. Therefore, although you must inevitably be tormented by longing for many things, nonetheless free your mind from that particular grief by which I hear you are most worn down, namely that you are not at Rome. For although it is with great distress that you long for your own people and your own affairs, still those very things you miss hold their own condition, nor would they hold it better if you were present, nor are they in any particular danger of their own; and you ought not, when you think about your own people, either to demand some exceptional fortune or to refuse the common one.
But concerning yourself, Torquatus, it is your part so to exercise your mind that you do not admit despair or fear into the counsel of your reflections. For the man who up to now has been more unjust toward you than your standing deserved has not failed to give great signs of a temper softened toward you; nor, again, does that very man from whom safety is sought himself have a clear or assured plan for his own safety; and since the outcomes of all wars are uncertain, I clearly perceive that from the one victory there is no danger to you, at least none that is separable from the destruction of all; while from the other victory I know for certain that you have never feared on your own account. It remains that the very thing I set down as a kind of consolation may torment you most of all: the common danger of the republic. As to so great an evil, however much learned men may say, I yet fear that no true consolation can be found except that one which is as great as the measure of strength and sinew that exists in each man's spirit. For if to think rightly and to act rightly is enough for living well and happily, I fear it would be an impiety to call wretched the man who can sustain himself by the consciousness of having held the best counsels. For I do not think that we [Cicero and those like him] left our country and our children and our fortunes long ago drawn on by the rewards of victory; rather, we believed we were following a certain duty, just and dutiful and owed to the republic and to our own standing; nor, when we were doing this, were we so out of our senses as to be assured of victory. Therefore, if that has come to pass which, as we were entering upon the cause, was set before us as a thing that could happen, we ought not to be so cast down in spirit as though something had happened which we had never thought could occur. Let us then be of that mind which reason and truth prescribe: that we should think nothing in life is required of us except to be free of fault, and that, since we are free of fault, we should bear all human affairs calmly and with moderation. And this discourse tends to this point: that, even with all our fortunes lost, virtue itself may yet seem able to sustain itself. But if there is any hope concerning the common cause, you ought not, whatever the future state of things may be, to be without it.
And as I was writing this, it came into my mind that I am the very man whose despair you used to be in the habit of reproaching, and whom you used to rouse by your authority when I was hesitant and distrustful—at which time, indeed, I disapproved not of our cause but of the policy. For I saw that it was too late for us to oppose those arms which had long before been strengthened through our very selves, and I grieved that questions of public right were being disputed with javelins and swords, not with our counsels and our authority. Nor, when I said that the things which have happened would happen, was I divining the future; rather, because I saw that it could happen and would be ruinous if it did happen, I feared that it might come to pass—especially since, if I had to promise one or the other regarding the issue and outcome of affairs, I could more confidently have promised that what has in fact occurred would occur. For we were superior in those things which do not come forth onto the battle line, but in the practice of arms and the strength of soldiers we were the weaker. But now, I beg you, summon up that spirit which you used to think I ought to have at that time.
I have written this because your man Philargyrus, when I asked him about everything concerning you, told me—with the most faithful disposition, as it seemed to me at least—that you sometimes tend to be too vehemently anxious. This you ought not to do, nor to doubt that either, under some form of republic, you will be the man you ought to be, or, if it is ruined, you will be in no more afflicted a condition than the rest. As for this present time, in which we are all unnerved and held in suspense, you ought to bear it with a more moderate spirit for this reason: that you are in that city in which the principle and the moderation of life were born and reared, and that you have Servius Sulpicius [Servius Sulpicius Rufus, jurist and friend]—whom you have always loved uniquely—who surely consoles you both by his goodwill and by his wisdom; and if we had followed his authority and counsel, we should have submitted to the power of men in the toga rather than to the victory of men in arms.
But these things have perhaps been longer than was necessary; the matters which are more important I shall set out more briefly. I have no one to whom I owe more than to you—those to whom I owed as much as you understand, the chances of this war have torn from me; but what manner of man I am at this time, I understand. Yet, because no one is so afflicted that, if he strives for nothing else than the thing he is doing, he cannot accomplish something and bring it to effect, I would have you consider that all my counsel, my effort, and certainly my zeal are owed to you and to your children.
DCXCVII (Fam. VI, 1) DECIMUS BRUTUS TO M. BRUTUS AND C. CASSIUS (ON THE CAPITOL) ROME, 17 MARCH: I write to let you know our position. Yesterday evening Hirtius called on me, and told me about the disposition of Antony . It is of course as bad and untrustworthy as possible. For he said that he could not give me my province, and did not think that it was safe for any of us to remain in Rome , considering the extreme irritation of the soldiery and the common people. I think you are aware that both these allegations are false, and that the truth is what Hirtius affirmed, namely, that Antony is afraid that, if we got even a moderate assistance in support of our position, there would be no part left for them to play in the state. Being in these straits I determined to demand a free legation for myself and the rest of us, in order to obtain a decent excuse for leaving the City . He promised that he would procure it, but I don't feel sure that he will do so; for people are so unreasonable and the set against us is so strong. Even if they granted our request, I yet think that before long we should be declared public enemies and forbidden water and fire. What, then, you say, “is your advice?” We must yield to fortune: we must quit Italy I think, and retire to Rhodes or some place or other in the world. If any improvement occurs we will return to Rome . If things go only fairly well we will live in exile; if the worst comes to the worst, we will have recourse to extreme measures in our support. Perhaps it will here occur to one of you — why should we wait for the worst, rather than make some attempt at once? Because we have no one to depend upon for safety except Sextus Pompeius and Caecilius Bassus , who I think are likely to be still more determined when they hear the news about Caesar . It will be soon enough for us to join them when we know their strength. If you wish me to give any undertaking for Cassius and yourself, I will give it: for Hirtius demands that I should do so. I beg you to answer this letter as promptly as possible — for I have no doubt that Hirtius will inform me on these points before ten o'clock — and tell me where we can meet and to what place you wish me to come. After my last Conversation with Hirtius I decided to ask that we should be allowed to remain at Rome under the protection of a state guard. I don't think they will concede that; for we shall be casting a grave slur upon them. However, I thought I must not omit to make any demand which I considered equitable.
I. Scr. Romae a.u.c. 709. M. CICERO S. D. A. TORQUATO
Etsi ea perturbatio est omnium rerum, ut suae quemque fortunae maxime poeniteat nemoque sit, quin ubivis quam ibi, ubi sit, esse malit, tamen mihi dubium non est, quin hoc tempore bono viro Romae esse miserrimum sit; nam, etsi, quocumque in loco quisque est, idem est ei sensus et eadem acerbitas ex interitu rerum et publicarum et suarum, tamen oculi augent dolorem, qui ea, quae ceteri audiunt, intueri coguntur nec avertere a miseriis cogitationem sinunt: quare, etsi multarum rerum desiderio te angi necesse est, tamen illo dolore, quo maxime te confici audio, quod Romae non sis, animum tuum libera; etsi enim cum magna molestia tuos tuaque desideras, tamen illa quidem, quae requiris, suum statum tenent nec melius, si tu adesses, tenerent nec sunt ullo in proprio periculo, nec debes tu, cum de tuis cogitas, aut praecipuam aliquam fortunam postulare aut communem recusare. De te autem ipso, Torquate, est tuum sic agitare animo, ut non adhibeas in consilium cogitationum tuarum desperationem aut timorem; nec enim is, qui in te adhuc iniustior, quam tua dignitas postulabat, fuit, non magna signa dedit animi erga te mitigati, nec tamen is ipse, a quo salus petitur, habet explicatam aut exploratam rationem salutis suae, cumque omnium bellorum exitus incerti sint, ab altera victoria tibi periculum nullum esse perspicio, quod quidem seiunctum sit ab omnium interitu, ab altera te ipsum numquam timuisse certo scio. Reliquum est, ut te id ipsum, quod ego quasi consolationis loco pono, maxime excruciet, commune periculum rei publicae: cuius tanti mali, quamvis docti viri multa dicant, tamen vereor ne consolatio nulla possit vera reperiri praeter illam, quae tanta est, quantum in cuiusque animo roboris est atque nervorum; si enim bene sentire recteque facere satis est ad bene beateque vivendum, vereor, ne eum, qui se optimorum consiliorum conscientia sustentare possit, miserum esse nefas sit dicere. Nec enim nos arbitror victoriae praemiis ductos patriam olim et liberos et fortunas reliquisse; sed quoddam nobis officium iustum et pium et debitum rei publicae nostraeque dignitati videbamur sequi, nec, cum id faciebamus, tam eramus amentes, ut explorata nobis esset victoria. Quare, si id evenit, quod ingredientibus nobis in causam propositum fuit accidere posse, non debemus ita cadere animis, quasi aliquid evenerit, quod fieri posse numquam putarimus. Simus igitur ea mente, quam ratio et veritas praescribit, ut nihil in vita nobis praestandum praeter culpam putemus, eaque cum careamus, omnia humana placate et moderate feramus. Atque haec eo pertinet oratio, ut perditis rebus omnibus tamen ipsa virtus se sustentare posse videatur; sed, si est spes aliqua de rebus communibus, ea tu, quicumque status est futurus, carere non debes. Atque haec mihi scribenti veniebat in mentem me esse eum, cuius tu desperationem accusare solitus esses quemque auctoritate tua cunctantem et diffidentem excitare—quo quidem tempore non ego causam nostram, sed consilium improbabam; sero enim nos iis armis adversari videbam, quae multo ante confirmata per nosmet ipsos erant, dolebamque pilis et gladiis, non consiliis neque auctoritatibus nostris de iure publico disceptari; neque ego, ea, quae facta sunt, fore cum dicebam, divinabam futura, sed, quod et fieri posse et exitiosum fore, si evenisset, videbam, id ne accideret timebam, praesertim cum, si mihi alterum utrum de eventu atque exitu rerum promittendum esset, id futurum, quod evenit, exploratius possem promittere; iis enim rebus praestabamus, quae non prodeunt in aciem, usu autem armorum et militum robore inferiores eramus—; sed tu illum animum nunc adhibe, quaeso, quo me tum esse oportere censebas. Haec eo scripsi, quod mihi Philargyrus tuus omnia de te requirenti fidelissimo animo, ut mihi quidem visus est, narravit te interdum sollicitum solere esse vehementius: quod facere non debes nec dubitare, quin aut aliqua re publica sis futurus, qui esse debes, aut perdita non afflictiore condicione quam ceteri. Hoc vero tempus, quo exanimati omnes et suspensi sumus, hoc moderatiore animo ferre debes, quod et in urbe ea es, ubi nata et alta est ratio ac moderatio vitae, et habes Ser. Sulpicium—quem semper unice dilexisti—, qui te profecto et benevolentia et sapientia consolatur, cuius si essemus et auctoritatem et consilium secuti, togati potius potentiam quam armati victoriam subissemus. Sed haec longiora fortasse fuerunt, quam necesse fuit; illa, quae maiora sunt, brevius exponam: ego habeo, cui plus quam tibi debeam, neminem—quibus tantum debebam, quantum tu intelligis, eos huius mihi belli casus eripuit—; qui sim autem hoc tempore, intelligo, sed, quia nemo est tam afflictus, quin, si nihil aliud studeat nisi id, quod agit, possit navare aliquid et efficere, omne meum consilium, operam, studium certe, velim existimes tibi tuisque liberis esse debitum.
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Marcus Cicero sends warm greetings to Aulus Torquatus.
Although there is such an upheaval in all things that each man is utterly dissatisfied with his own lot, and there is no one who would not rather be anywhere else than where he is, nevertheless I have no doubt that at this time it is most wretched for a good man to be at Rome. For although, in whatever place a man finds himself, he has the same feeling and the same bitterness from the ruin both of public affairs and of his own, still the eyes increase the pain, since they are compelled to gaze upon those things which the rest only hear about, and they do not allow one to turn his thoughts away from these miseries. Therefore, although you must inevitably be tormented by longing for many things, nonetheless free your mind from that particular grief by which I hear you are most worn down, namely that you are not at Rome. For although it is with great distress that you long for your own people and your own affairs, still those very things you miss hold their own condition, nor would they hold it better if you were present, nor are they in any particular danger of their own; and you ought not, when you think about your own people, either to demand some exceptional fortune or to refuse the common one.
But concerning yourself, Torquatus, it is your part so to exercise your mind that you do not admit despair or fear into the counsel of your reflections. For the man who up to now has been more unjust toward you than your standing deserved has not failed to give great signs of a temper softened toward you; nor, again, does that very man from whom safety is sought himself have a clear or assured plan for his own safety; and since the outcomes of all wars are uncertain, I clearly perceive that from the one victory there is no danger to you, at least none that is separable from the destruction of all; while from the other victory I know for certain that you have never feared on your own account. It remains that the very thing I set down as a kind of consolation may torment you most of all: the common danger of the republic. As to so great an evil, however much learned men may say, I yet fear that no true consolation can be found except that one which is as great as the measure of strength and sinew that exists in each man's spirit. For if to think rightly and to act rightly is enough for living well and happily, I fear it would be an impiety to call wretched the man who can sustain himself by the consciousness of having held the best counsels. For I do not think that we [Cicero and those like him] left our country and our children and our fortunes long ago drawn on by the rewards of victory; rather, we believed we were following a certain duty, just and dutiful and owed to the republic and to our own standing; nor, when we were doing this, were we so out of our senses as to be assured of victory. Therefore, if that has come to pass which, as we were entering upon the cause, was set before us as a thing that could happen, we ought not to be so cast down in spirit as though something had happened which we had never thought could occur. Let us then be of that mind which reason and truth prescribe: that we should think nothing in life is required of us except to be free of fault, and that, since we are free of fault, we should bear all human affairs calmly and with moderation. And this discourse tends to this point: that, even with all our fortunes lost, virtue itself may yet seem able to sustain itself. But if there is any hope concerning the common cause, you ought not, whatever the future state of things may be, to be without it.
And as I was writing this, it came into my mind that I am the very man whose despair you used to be in the habit of reproaching, and whom you used to rouse by your authority when I was hesitant and distrustful—at which time, indeed, I disapproved not of our cause but of the policy. For I saw that it was too late for us to oppose those arms which had long before been strengthened through our very selves, and I grieved that questions of public right were being disputed with javelins and swords, not with our counsels and our authority. Nor, when I said that the things which have happened would happen, was I divining the future; rather, because I saw that it could happen and would be ruinous if it did happen, I feared that it might come to pass—especially since, if I had to promise one or the other regarding the issue and outcome of affairs, I could more confidently have promised that what has in fact occurred would occur. For we were superior in those things which do not come forth onto the battle line, but in the practice of arms and the strength of soldiers we were the weaker. But now, I beg you, summon up that spirit which you used to think I ought to have at that time.
I have written this because your man Philargyrus, when I asked him about everything concerning you, told me—with the most faithful disposition, as it seemed to me at least—that you sometimes tend to be too vehemently anxious. This you ought not to do, nor to doubt that either, under some form of republic, you will be the man you ought to be, or, if it is ruined, you will be in no more afflicted a condition than the rest. As for this present time, in which we are all unnerved and held in suspense, you ought to bear it with a more moderate spirit for this reason: that you are in that city in which the principle and the moderation of life were born and reared, and that you have Servius Sulpicius [Servius Sulpicius Rufus, jurist and friend]—whom you have always loved uniquely—who surely consoles you both by his goodwill and by his wisdom; and if we had followed his authority and counsel, we should have submitted to the power of men in the toga rather than to the victory of men in arms.
But these things have perhaps been longer than was necessary; the matters which are more important I shall set out more briefly. I have no one to whom I owe more than to you—those to whom I owed as much as you understand, the chances of this war have torn from me; but what manner of man I am at this time, I understand. Yet, because no one is so afflicted that, if he strives for nothing else than the thing he is doing, he cannot accomplish something and bring it to effect, I would have you consider that all my counsel, my effort, and certainly my zeal are owed to you and to your children.
AI-assisted translation - This translation was produced with AI assistance and has not been peer-reviewed. See the 19th-century translation or original Latin/Greek below for scholarly use.
Latin / Greek Original
I. Scr. Romae a.u.c. 709. M. CICERO S. D. A. TORQUATO
Etsi ea perturbatio est omnium rerum, ut suae quemque fortunae maxime poeniteat nemoque sit, quin ubivis quam ibi, ubi sit, esse malit, tamen mihi dubium non est, quin hoc tempore bono viro Romae esse miserrimum sit; nam, etsi, quocumque in loco quisque est, idem est ei sensus et eadem acerbitas ex interitu rerum et publicarum et suarum, tamen oculi augent dolorem, qui ea, quae ceteri audiunt, intueri coguntur nec avertere a miseriis cogitationem sinunt: quare, etsi multarum rerum desiderio te angi necesse est, tamen illo dolore, quo maxime te confici audio, quod Romae non sis, animum tuum libera; etsi enim cum magna molestia tuos tuaque desideras, tamen illa quidem, quae requiris, suum statum tenent nec melius, si tu adesses, tenerent nec sunt ullo in proprio periculo, nec debes tu, cum de tuis cogitas, aut praecipuam aliquam fortunam postulare aut communem recusare. De te autem ipso, Torquate, est tuum sic agitare animo, ut non adhibeas in consilium cogitationum tuarum desperationem aut timorem; nec enim is, qui in te adhuc iniustior, quam tua dignitas postulabat, fuit, non magna signa dedit animi erga te mitigati, nec tamen is ipse, a quo salus petitur, habet explicatam aut exploratam rationem salutis suae, cumque omnium bellorum exitus incerti sint, ab altera victoria tibi periculum nullum esse perspicio, quod quidem seiunctum sit ab omnium interitu, ab altera te ipsum numquam timuisse certo scio. Reliquum est, ut te id ipsum, quod ego quasi consolationis loco pono, maxime excruciet, commune periculum rei publicae: cuius tanti mali, quamvis docti viri multa dicant, tamen vereor ne consolatio nulla possit vera reperiri praeter illam, quae tanta est, quantum in cuiusque animo roboris est atque nervorum; si enim bene sentire recteque facere satis est ad bene beateque vivendum, vereor, ne eum, qui se optimorum consiliorum conscientia sustentare possit, miserum esse nefas sit dicere. Nec enim nos arbitror victoriae praemiis ductos patriam olim et liberos et fortunas reliquisse; sed quoddam nobis officium iustum et pium et debitum rei publicae nostraeque dignitati videbamur sequi, nec, cum id faciebamus, tam eramus amentes, ut explorata nobis esset victoria. Quare, si id evenit, quod ingredientibus nobis in causam propositum fuit accidere posse, non debemus ita cadere animis, quasi aliquid evenerit, quod fieri posse numquam putarimus. Simus igitur ea mente, quam ratio et veritas praescribit, ut nihil in vita nobis praestandum praeter culpam putemus, eaque cum careamus, omnia humana placate et moderate feramus. Atque haec eo pertinet oratio, ut perditis rebus omnibus tamen ipsa virtus se sustentare posse videatur; sed, si est spes aliqua de rebus communibus, ea tu, quicumque status est futurus, carere non debes. Atque haec mihi scribenti veniebat in mentem me esse eum, cuius tu desperationem accusare solitus esses quemque auctoritate tua cunctantem et diffidentem excitare—quo quidem tempore non ego causam nostram, sed consilium improbabam; sero enim nos iis armis adversari videbam, quae multo ante confirmata per nosmet ipsos erant, dolebamque pilis et gladiis, non consiliis neque auctoritatibus nostris de iure publico disceptari; neque ego, ea, quae facta sunt, fore cum dicebam, divinabam futura, sed, quod et fieri posse et exitiosum fore, si evenisset, videbam, id ne accideret timebam, praesertim cum, si mihi alterum utrum de eventu atque exitu rerum promittendum esset, id futurum, quod evenit, exploratius possem promittere; iis enim rebus praestabamus, quae non prodeunt in aciem, usu autem armorum et militum robore inferiores eramus—; sed tu illum animum nunc adhibe, quaeso, quo me tum esse oportere censebas. Haec eo scripsi, quod mihi Philargyrus tuus omnia de te requirenti fidelissimo animo, ut mihi quidem visus est, narravit te interdum sollicitum solere esse vehementius: quod facere non debes nec dubitare, quin aut aliqua re publica sis futurus, qui esse debes, aut perdita non afflictiore condicione quam ceteri. Hoc vero tempus, quo exanimati omnes et suspensi sumus, hoc moderatiore animo ferre debes, quod et in urbe ea es, ubi nata et alta est ratio ac moderatio vitae, et habes Ser. Sulpicium—quem semper unice dilexisti—, qui te profecto et benevolentia et sapientia consolatur, cuius si essemus et auctoritatem et consilium secuti, togati potius potentiam quam armati victoriam subissemus. Sed haec longiora fortasse fuerunt, quam necesse fuit; illa, quae maiora sunt, brevius exponam: ego habeo, cui plus quam tibi debeam, neminem—quibus tantum debebam, quantum tu intelligis, eos huius mihi belli casus eripuit—; qui sim autem hoc tempore, intelligo, sed, quia nemo est tam afflictus, quin, si nihil aliud studeat nisi id, quod agit, possit navare aliquid et efficere, omne meum consilium, operam, studium certe, velim existimes tibi tuisque liberis esse debitum.