Letter 6.6

I fear you may miss my attentions, which ought not to be lacking toward you given our bond of many mutual services and shared pursuits, but still I fear you may require from me the duty of writing, which I would have sent you both long ago and often, had I not daily expected better news and preferred to compose a letter of congratulation rather than one of encouragement. Now, as I hope, I shall soon be able to congratulate you; and so I defer that topic for a letter to another time. But by this present letter I think your spirit, which I hear and hope is far from feeble, ought to be strengthened again and again by the authority of a man who is, if not the wisest, at least the most affectionate -- and not with such words as might console you as one who is afflicted and bereft of all hope of salvation, but as one about whose safety I have no more doubt than I remember you having about mine. For when those who did not think the republic could fall while I stood had driven me from public life, I remember hearing from many visitors who came to me from Asia, where you were, that you were confident about my glorious and swift return. If a certain principle of the Etruscan discipline, which you received from your father, a most noble and excellent man, did not deceive you, neither will my own divination deceive me -- a divination I have achieved not only through the teachings and precepts of the wisest men and, as you know, through extensive study of learning, but also through great practical experience in managing the republic and through the great variety of our times. And I have all the more confidence in this divination because it has never entirely deceived me in these most obscure and troubled affairs. I would say what I had predicted before the event, were I not afraid of seeming to fabricate from results. But nevertheless there are very many witnesses that at the beginning I warned Pompeius not to join himself with Caesar, and afterward not to separate himself. I saw that by their union the power of the senate would be broken, and by their separation civil war would be kindled. And I was on the most intimate terms with Caesar, while holding Pompeius in the highest regard, but my counsel was both loyal to Pompeius and salutary to both. What else I foresaw I pass over, for I do not wish this man who has treated me so well to think that I urged upon Pompeius counsels which, had he followed them, would have made him indeed illustrious in civic life and the leading man, but would not have given him the great power he now possesses. I also advised him to go to Spain; had he done so, there would have been no civil war at all. As for allowing his candidacy in absentia, I fought not so much for it to be permitted as for it to be honored, since the people had voted for it at the prompting of the consul himself. When the cause of war arose, what warnings or complaints did I fail to make, preferring even the most unjust peace to the most just war? My authority was overcome, not so much by Pompeius -- for he was moved -- as by those who, relying on Pompeius as their leader, thought that victory in that war would be most opportune for their private affairs and desires. The war was undertaken while I remained inactive; Italy was abandoned while I remained as long as I could, but my sense of honor prevailed over my fear. I was afraid of failing Pompeius in his hour of need, when he had once not failed mine. And so, overcome by duty or by the good opinion of honorable men or by shame, like Amphiaraus in the legends, knowingly and with open eyes I set out toward the destruction that lay before me. In that war nothing adverse happened that I had not predicted. Therefore, since, like augurs and astrologers, I too, as a public augur, have established with you the authority of my augury and divination from my previous predictions, my present prediction ought to carry weight. I do not therefore augur for you from the flight of a bird or from the song of a crow on the left, as is our discipline, nor from the most favorable feeding or from the sounds of the sacred chickens, but I have other signs to observe; and these, though not more certain than the former, yet have less obscurity and less room for error. The signs I note for divination are of a twofold kind, one of which I derive from Caesar himself, the other from the nature and principle of civil affairs. In Caesar there are these: a mild and merciful nature, such as is expressed in that famous book of your Complaints. Added to this is his marvelous delight in outstanding talents, such as yours. Furthermore, he yields to the just and duty-inspired wishes of many people, not to empty or ambitious ones; and in this the unanimous voice of Etruria will powerfully move him. Why then have these things so far had too little effect? Because he does not think he can sustain the causes of many people if he makes a concession to you, against whom he seems to be able to feel a juster anger. "What hope then," you will say, "from an angry man?" He understands that he will draw his own praises from the same source from which he has been lightly splashed. Finally, the man is very shrewd and far-seeing: he understands that you, a man easily the most noble of all in a not inconsiderable part of Italy, and in the common republic equal to any of the greatest men of your age in talent, in influence, or in public reputation, cannot be kept from the republic for long. He will not wish this to be someday a gift of circumstances rather than already his own. I have spoken of Caesar; now I shall speak of the nature of the times and affairs. No one is so hostile to that cause which Pompeius, with better spirit than preparation, had undertaken, as to dare call us bad citizens or wicked men. In this I am accustomed to admire the gravity, justice, and wisdom of Caesar: he never speaks of Pompeius except in the most honorable terms. "But in his person he did many things rather harshly." Those were the deeds of arms and victory, not of Caesar. But how has he embraced us! He made Cassius his legate; he set Brutus over Gaul, Sulpicius over Greece; Marcellus, at whom he was most angry, he restored with the greatest honor to his dignity. Where then does this lead? The nature of things and of civil times will not permit this, nor will the existing order of affairs, whether it remains or changes. First, it will not allow that in an equal cause the condition and fortune of all should not be the same; secondly, it will not allow that good men and good citizens, marked by no disgrace, should not return to a state to which so many men condemned for the most heinous crimes have returned. You have my augury; and if I had any doubt, I would prefer to use it rather than that consolation by which I could easily sustain a brave man: that if you had taken up arms for the republic with victory assured -- for so you then thought -- you would not deserve excessive praise; but if you had thought that, because of the uncertain chances and outcomes of wars, we might be defeated, you ought not to have been well prepared for favorable fortune but quite unable to bear adverse fortune. I would also argue how much solace your conscience of your deed should bring you, how much delight your literary studies should give you in adversity. I would recall the gravest misfortunes not only of the ancients but also of leaders and companions of your own times who are still recent; I would name many famous foreign men as well, for the recollection of a shared law, as it were, and of the human condition lightens grief. I would also set forth how we live here in such a crowd and such confusion of all things, for one must miss a ruined republic with less longing than a good one. But there is no need for this sort of thing: I shall see you safe soon, as I hope, or rather as I clearly perceive. Meanwhile, both to you in your absence and to this image of your mind and body who is present, your most steadfast and excellent son, I have long since both promised and offered my zeal, my duty, my effort, and my labor; and now this in addition: that Caesar every day embraces me most affectionately, and his intimate friends treat me as they treat no one else. Whatever influence I shall have with him, whether by authority or by favor, I shall have it for you. Take care to sustain yourself both with firmness of spirit and with the best of hope.

CDLXXXVI (Fam. VI, 6) TO AULUS CAECINA (IN EXILE) ROME (SEPTEMBER) I am afraid you may think me remiss in my attentions to you, which, in view of our close union resulting from many mutual services and kindred tastes, ought never to be lacking. In spite of that I fear you do find me wanting in the matter of writing. The fact is, I would have sent you a letter long ago and on frequent occasions, had I not, from expecting day after day to have some better news for you, wished to fill my letter with congratulation rather than with exhortations to courage. As it is, I shall shortly, I hope, have to congratulate you: and so I put off that subject for a letter to another time. But in this letter I think that your courage — which I am told and hope is not at all shaken-ought to be repeatedly braced by the authority of a man, who, if not the wisest in the world, is yet the most devoted to you: and that not with such words as I should use to console one utterly crushed and bereft of all hope of restoration, but as to one of whose rehabilitation I have no more doubt than I remember that you had of mine. For when those men had driven me from the Republic, who thought that it could not fall while I was on my feet, I remember hearing from many visitors from Asia , in which country you then were, that you were emphatic as to my glorious and rapid restoration. If that system, so to speak, of Tuscan augury which you had inherited from your noble and excellent father did not deceive you, neither will our power of divination deceive me; which I have acquired from the writings and maxims of the greatest savants, and, as you know, by a very diligent study of their teaching, as well as by an extensive experience in managing public business, and from the great vicissitudes of fortune which I have encountered. And this divination I am the more inclined to trust, from the fact that it never once deceived me in the late troubles, in spite of their obscurity and confusion. I would have told you what events I foretold, were I not afraid to be thought to be making up a story after the event. Yet, after all, I have numberless witnesses to the fact that I warned Pompey not to form a union with Caesar , and afterwards not to sever it. By this union I saw that the power of the senate would be broken, by its severance a civil war be provoked. And yet I was very intimate with Caesar , and had a very great regard for Pompey , but my advice was at once loyal to Pompey and in the best interests of both alike. My other predictions I pass over; for I would not have Caesar think that I gave Pompey advice, by which, if he had followed it, Caesar himself would have now been a man of illustrious character in the state indeed, and the first man in it, but yet not in possession of the great power he now wields. I gave it as my opinion that he should go to Spain; and if he had done so, there would have been' no civil war at all. That Caesar should be allowed to stand for the consulship in his absence I did not so much contend to be constitutional, as that, since the law had been passed by the people at the instance of Pompey himself when consul, it should be done. The pretext for hostilities was given. What advice or remonstrance did I omit, when urging that any peace, even the most inequitable, should be preferred to the most righteous war? My advice was overruled, not so much by Pompey — for he was affected by it — as by those who, relying on him as a military leader, thought that a victory in that war would be highly conducive to their private interests and personal ambitions. The war was begun without my taking any active part in it; it was forcibly removed from Italy , while I remained there as long as I could. But honour had greater weight with me than fear: I had scruples about failing to support Pompey 's safety, when on a certain occasion he had not failed to support mine. Accordingly, overpowered by a feeling of duty, or by what the loyalists would say, or by a regard for my honour — whichever you please — like Amphiaraus in the play, I went deliberately, and fully aware of what I was doing, “to ruin full displayed before my eyes.” In this war there was not a single disaster that I did not foretell. Therefore, since, after the manner of augurs and astrologers, I too, as a state augur, have by my previous predictions established the credit of my prophetic power and knowledge of divination in your eyes, my prediction will justly claim to be believed. Well, then, the prophecy I now give you does not rest on the flight of a bird nor the note of a bird of good omen on the left — according to the system of our augural college — nor from the normal and audible pattering of the corn of the sacred chickens. I have other signs to note; and if they are not more infallible than those, yet after all they are less obscure or misleading. Now omens as to the future are observed by me in what I may call a two fold method: the one I deduce from Caesar himself, the other from the nature and complexion of the political situation. Caesar 's characteristics are these: a disposition naturally placable and clement — as delineated in your brilliant book of “Grievances ” — and a great liking also for superior talent, such as your own. Besides this, he is relenting at the expressed wishes of a large number of your friends, which are well-grounded and inspired by affection, not hollow and self-seeking. Under this head the unanimous feeling of Etruria will have great influence on him. Why, then — you may ask — have these things as yet had no effect? Why, because he thinks if he grants you yours, he cannot resist the applications of numerous petitioners with whom to all appearance he has juster grounds for anger. “What hope, then,” you will say, “from an angry man?” Why, he knows very well that he will draw deep draughts of praise from the same fountain, from which he has been already — though sparingly-bespattered. Lastly, he is a man very acute and farseeing: he knows very well that a man like you — far and away the greatest noble in an important district of Italy , and in the state at large the equal of any one of your generation, however eminent, whether in ability or popularity or reputation among the Roman people-cannot much longer be debarred from taking part in public affairs. He will be unwilling that you should, as you would sooner or later, have time to thank for this rather than his favour. So much for Caesar . Now I will speak of the nature of the actual situation. There is no one so bitterly opposed to the cause, which Pompey undertook with better intentions than provisions, as to venture to call us bad citizens or dishonest men. On this head I am always struck with astonishment at Caesar 's sobriety, fairness, and wisdom. He never speaks of Pompey except in the most respectful terms. “But,” you will say, “in regard to him as a public man his actions have often been bitter enough.” Those were acts of war and victory, not of Caesar . But see with what open arms he has received us! Cassius he has made his legate; Brutus governor of Gaul; Sulpicius of Greece; Marcellus , with whom he was more angry than with anyone, he has restored with the utmost consideration for his rank. To what, then, does all this tend? The nature of things and of the political situation will not suffer, nor will any Constitutional theory — whether it remain as it is or is changed — permit, first, that the civil and personal position of all should not be alike when the merits of their cases are the same; and, secondly, that good men and good citizens of unblemished character should not return to a state, into which so many have returned after having been condemned of atrocious crimes. That is my prediction. If I had felt any doubt about it I would not have employed it in preference to a consolation which would have easily enabled me to support a man of spirit. It is this. If you had taken up arms for the Republic — for so you then thought — with the full assurance of victory, you would not deserve special commendation. But if; in view of the uncertainty attaching to all wars, you had taken into consideration the possibility of our being beaten, you ought not, while fully prepared to face success, to be yet utterly unable to endure failure. I would have urged also what a consolation the consciousness of your action, what a delightful distraction in adversity, literature ought to be. I would have recalled to your mind the signal disasters not only of men of old times, but of those of our own day also, whether they were your leaders or your comrades. I would even have named many cases of illustrious foreigners: for the recollection of what I may call a common law and of the conditions of human existence softens grief. I would also have explained the nature of our life here in Rome , how bewildering the disorder, how universal the chaos: for it must needs cause less regret to be absent from a state in disruption, than from one well-ordered. But there is no occasion for anything of this sort. I shall soon see you, as I hope, or rather as I clearly perceive, in enjoyment of your civil rights. Meanwhile, to you in your absence, as also to your son who is here — the express image of your soul and person, and a man of unsurpassable firmness and excellence — I have long ere this both promised and tendered practically my zeal, duty, exertions, and labours: all the more so now that Caesar daily receives me with more open arms, while his intimate friends distinguish me above everyone. Any influence or favour I may gain with him I will employ in your service. Be sure, for your part, to support yourself not only with courage, but also with the brightest hopes.

VI. Scr. Romae (post VII. K. Sext.) a.u.c. 708. M. CICERO S. D. A. CAECINAE Vereor, ne desideres officium meum, quod tibi pro nostra et meritorum multorum et studiorum parium coniunctione deesse non debet, sed tamen vereor, ne litterarum a me officium requiras, quas tibi et iampridem et saepe misissem, nisi quotidie melius exspectans gratulationem quam confirmationem animi tui complecti litteris maluissem. Nunc, ut spero, brevi gratulabimur: itaque in aliud tempus id argumentum epistulae differo; his autem litteris animum tuum, quem minime imbecillum esse et audio et spero, etsi non sapientissimi, at amicissimi hominis auctoritate confirmandum etiam atque etiam puto, nec iis quidem verbis, quibus te consoler ut afflictum et iam omni spe salutis orbatum, sed ut eum, de cuius incolumitate non plus dubitem, quam te memini dubitare de mea; nam, cum me ex re publica expulissent ii, qui illam cadere posse stante me non putarunt, memini me ex multis hospitibus, qui ad me ex Asia, in qua tu eras, venerant, audire te de glorioso et celeri reditu meo confirmare. Si te ratio quaedam Etruscae disciplinae, quam a patre, nobilissimo atque optimo viro, acceperas, non fefellit, ne nos quidem nostra divinatio fallet, quam cum sapientissimorum virorum monitis atque praeceptis plurimoque, ut tu scis, doctrinae studio, tum magno etiam usu tractandae rei publicae magnaque nostrorum temporum varietate consecuti sumus; cui quidem divinationi hoc plus confidimus, quod ea nos nihil in his tam obscuris rebus tamque perturbatis umquam omnino fefellit. Dicerem, quae ante futura dixissem, ni vererer, ne ex eventis fingere viderer; sed tamen plurimi sunt testes me et initio, ne coniungeret se cum Caesare, monuisse Pompeium et postea, ne se diiungeret: coniunctione frangi senatus opes, diiunctione civile bellum excitari videbam, atque utebar familiarissime Caesare, Pompeium faciebam plurimi, sed erat meum consilium cum fidele Pompeio, tum salutare utrique. Quae praeterea providerim, praetereo; nolo enim hunc de me optime meritum existimare ea me suasisse Pompeio, quibus ille si paruisset, esset hic quidem clarus in toga et princeps, sed tantas opes, quantas nunc habet, non haberet: eundem in Hispaniam censui; quod si fecisset, civile bellum nullum omnino fuisset. Rationem haberi absentis non tam pugnavi ut liceret, quam ut, quoniam ipso consule pugnante populus iusserat, haberetur. Causa orta belli est: quid ego praetermisi aut monitorum aut querelarum, cum vel iniquissimam pacem iustissimo bello anteferrem? Victa est auctoritas mea, non tam a Pompeio—nam is movebatur—, quam ab iis, qui duce Pompeio freti peropportunam et rebus domesticis et cupiditatibus suis illius belli victoriam fore putabant. Susceptum bellum est quiescente me, depulsum ex Italia manente me, quoad potui, sed valuit apud me plus pudor meus quam timor: veritus sum deesse Pompeii saluti, cum ille aliquando non defuisset meae. Itaque vel officio vel fama bonorum vel pudore victus, ut in fabulis Amphiaraus, sic ego prudens et sciens ad pestem ante oculos positam sum profectus; quo in bello nihil adversi accidit non praedicente me. Quare, quoniam, ut augures et astrologi solent, ego quoque augur publicus ex meis superioribus praedictis constitui apud te auctoritatem angurii et divinationis meae, debebit habere fidem nostra praedictio. Non igitur ex alitis volatu nec e cantu sinistro oscinis, ut in nostra disciplina est, nec ex tripudiis solistimis aut soniviis tibi auguror, sed habeo alia signa, quae observem; quae etsi non sunt certiora illis, minus tamen habent vel obscuritatis vel erroris. Notantur autem mihi ad divinandum signa duplici quadam via, quarum alteram duco e Caesare ipso, alteram e temporum civilium natura atque ratione. In Caesare haec sunt: mitis clemensque natura, qualis exprimitur praeclaro illo libro Querelarum tuarum; accedit, quod mirifice ingeniis excellentibus, quale est tuum, delectatur; praeterea cedit multorum iustis et officio incensis, non inanibus aut ambitiosis, voluntatibus, in quo vehementer eum consentiens Etruria movebit. Cur haec igitur adhuc parum profecerunt? Quia non putat se sustinere causas posse multorum, si tibi, cui iustius videtur irasci posse, concesserit. "Quae est igitur," inquies, "spes ab irato?" Eodem e fonte se hausturum intelligit laudes suas, e quo sit leviter aspersus. Postremo homo valde est acutus et multum providens: intelligit te, hominem in parte Italiae minime contemnenda facile omnium nobilissimum et in communi re publica cuivis summorum tuae aetatis vel ingenio vel gratia vel fama populi Romani parem, non posse prohiberi re publica diutius; nolet hoc temporis potius esse aliquando beneficium quam iam suum. Dixi de Caesare; nunc dicam de temporum rerumque natura: nemo est tam inimicus ei causae, quam Pompeius animatus melius quam paratus susceperat, qui nos malos cives dicere aut homines improbos audeat; in quo admirari soleo gravitatem et iustitiam et sapientiam Caesaris: numquam nisi honorificentissime Pompeium appellat. "At in eius persona multa fecit asperius." Armorum ista et victoriae sunt facta, non Caesaris. At nos quemadmodum est complexus! Cassium sibi legavit; Brutum Galliae praefecit, Sulpicium Graeciae; Marcellum, cui maxime suscensebat, cum summa illius dignitate restituit. Quo igitur haec spectant? Rerum hoc natura et civilium temporum non patietur, nec manens nec mutata ratio feret, primum ut non in causa pari eadem sit et condicio et fortuna omnium, deinde ut in eam civitatem boni viri et boni cives nulla ignominia notati non reverbantur, in quam tot nefariorum scelerum condemnati reverterunt. Habes augurium meum, quo, si quid addubitarem, non potius uterer quam illa consolatione, qua facile fortem virum sustentarem: te, si explorata victoria arma sumpsisses pro re publica—ita enim tum putabas—-, non nimis esse laudandum, sin propter incertos exitus eventusque bellorum posse accidere, ut vinceremur, putasses, non debere te ad secundam fortunam bene paratum fuisse, adversam ferre nullo modo posse. Disputarem etiam, quanto solatio tibi conscientia tui facti, quantae delectationi in rebus adversis litterae esse deberent; commemorarem non solum veterum, sed horum etiam recentium vel ducum vel comitum tuorum gravissimos casus; etiam externos multos claros viros nominarem; levat enim dolorem communis quasi legis et humanae conditionis recordatio; exponerem etiam, quemadmodum hic et quanta in turba quantaque in confusione rerum omnium viveremus; necesse est enim minore desiderio perdita re publica carere quam bona. Sed hoc genere nihil opus est: incolumem te cito, ut spero, vel potius, ut perspicio, videbimus. Interea tibi absenti et huic, qui adest, imagini animi et corporis tui, constantissimo atque optimo filio tuo, studium officium, operam laborem meum iampridem et pollicitus sum et detuli, nunc hoc amplius, quod me amicissime quotidie magis Caesar amplecitur, familiares quidem eius, sicuti neminem: apud quem quidquid valebo vel auctoritate vel gratia, valebo tibi; tu cura, ut cum firmitudine te animi, tum etiam spe optima sustentes.