Marcus Tullius Cicero→Marcus Marius|c. 49 BC|Cicero|From Rome|To Rome|AI-assisted
If some physical pain or weakness kept you from coming to the games, I credit fortune more than your wisdom. But if you judged that the things other people admire deserved contempt, and, although your health allowed it, you still chose not to come, then I rejoice in both facts: that your body was free from pain and that your mind was strong enough to ignore what others admire for no reason. I only hope you got real benefit from your leisure. You certainly had a wonderful chance to enjoy it, left almost alone in that lovely place of yours.
I do not doubt that in your little room, where you have opened a view toward Stabiae and laid Misenum before your eyes, you spent the mornings in light reading, while the people who left you there were watching common farces half asleep. The rest of the day you spent in pleasures arranged exactly to your taste. We, meanwhile, had to endure whatever Spurius Maecius had approved.
In short, if you ask me, the games were very elaborate, but not suited to your stomach. I judge from my own. First, for the sake of the occasion, actors had returned to the stage whom I thought had left it for the sake of their own dignity. Your favorite, our Aesop, was in such a condition that everyone would have allowed him to retire. When he began the oath, his voice failed at the words, "if I knowingly deceive." Why should I tell you the rest? You know what games are like. These did not even have the charm that ordinary mediocre games usually have. The sheer apparatus of the spectacle took away all pleasure.
You will have missed that apparatus with an entirely calm mind, I am sure. What pleasure is there in six hundred mules in Clytemnestra, or three thousand mixing bowls in the Trojan Horse, or infantry and cavalry in assorted armor for some battle scene? These things impressed the crowd; they would have given you no delight.
If, on the other hand, you spent those days with your Protogenes, provided he read you anything rather than my speeches, then you had far more pleasure than any of us. I do not imagine you missed Greek or Oscan plays, especially since you can see Oscan farces in your own local senate, and you care so little for Greek things that you do not even usually take the Greek Road to your villa. Why should I think you missed the athletes, when you passed over the gladiators? Even Pompey admits he wasted both effort and money on them.
There remained the wild-beast hunts, two each day for five days. Magnificent, no one denies it. But what pleasure can a cultivated person take in seeing a weak human being torn by a very powerful animal, or a splendid animal pierced through with a hunting spear? If such things are worth seeing, you have often seen them before; and those of us who watched saw nothing new. The last day was the elephants. The common crowd felt great wonder, but no pleasure. Indeed, a kind of pity followed, and a sense that this animal has some fellowship with the human race.
During those days, so that you should not think me blessed, or even wholly free, I nearly burst myself in the trial of your friend Gallus Caninius. If I had as indulgent an audience as Aesop had, I would gladly, by Hercules, give up my profession and live with you and people like us. I was already tired of it before, when age and ambition still urged me on and when I could refuse to defend anyone I did not want to defend. But now, in these times, there is no life in it. I expect no reward for my labor, and sometimes I am forced, at the request of people who have served me well, to defend people who have not served me well at all.
So I am looking for every excuse to live at last according to my own judgment. I strongly praise and approve you and your way of retirement. I bear your fewer visits to us more calmly because, if you were in Rome, my most tiresome obligations would still keep me from enjoying your charm, and would keep you from enjoying mine, if I have any. If I can loosen those obligations - I do not ask to escape them completely - I will certainly teach even you, who have studied nothing else for many years, what it means to live humanely.
Only keep up and protect that weak health of yours, as you are doing, so that you can visit my villas and run around with me in a litter. I have written at greater length than usual, not because I have too much leisure, but because I love you. In one of your letters, if you remember, you half invited me to write something that would make you less sorry for missing the games. If I have managed that, I am glad. If not, I still console myself with this: next time you will come to the games, visit me, and not leave all hope of your amusement to my letters.
CXXVI (Fam. VII, 1) 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 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 . 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. 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 . 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.
I. Scr. Romae a.u.c. 699. M. CICERO S. D. M. MARIO.
Si te dolor aliqui corporis aut infirmitas valetudinis tuae tenuit, quo minus ad ludos venires, fortunae magis tribuo quam sapientiae tuae; sin haec, quae ceteri mirantur, contemnenda duxisti et, cum per valetudinem posses, venire tamen noluisti, utrumque laetor, et sine dolore corporis te fuisse et animo valuisse, cum ea, quae sine causa mirantur alii, neglexeris, modo ut tibi constiterit fructus otii tui, quo quidem tibi perfrui mirifice licuit, cum esses in ista amoenitate paene solus relictus. Neque tamen dubito, quin tu in illo cubiculo tuo, ex quo tibi Stabianum perforasti et patefecisti Misenum, per eos dies matutina tempora lectiunculis consumpseris, cum illi interea, qui te istic reliquerunt, spectarent communes mimos semisomni. Reliquas vero partes diei tu consumebas iis delectationibus, quas tibi ipse ad arbitrium tuum compararas, nobis autem erant ea perpetienda, quae Sp. Maecius probavisset. Omnino, si quaeris, ludi apparatissimi, sed non tui stomachi; coniecturam enim facio de meo; nam primum honoris causa in scenam redierant ii, quos ego honoris causa de scena decessisse arbitrabar; deliciae vero tuae, noster Aesopus, eiusmodi fuit, ut ei desinere per omnes homines liceret: is iurare cum coepisset, vox eum defecit in illo loco: "si sciens fallo." Quid tibi ego alia narrem? nosti enim reliquos ludos, qui ne id quidem leporis habuerunt, quod solent mediocres ludi; apparatus enim spectatio tollebat omnem hilaritatem, quo quidem apparatu non dubito quin animo aequissimo carueris; quid enim delectationis habent sexcenti muli in Clytaemnestra aut in Equo Troiano creterrarum tria milia aut armatura varia peditatus et equitatus in aliqua pugna? quae popularem admirationem habuerunt, delectationem tibi nullam attulissent. Quod si tu per eos dies operam dedisti Protogeni tuo, dummodo is tibi quidvis potius quam orationes meas legerit, ne tu haud paullo plus quam quisquam nostrum delectationis habuisti; non enim te puto Graecos aut Oscos ludos desiderasse, praesertim cum Oscos vel in senatu vestro spectare possis, Graecos ita non ames, ut ne ad villam quidem tuam via Graeca ire soleas. Nam quid ego te athletas putem desiderare, qui gladiatores contempseris? in quibus ipse Pompeius confitetur se et operam et oleum perdidisse. Reliquae sunt venationes binae per dies quinque, magnificae—nemo negat—, sed quae potest homini esse polito delectatio, cum aut homo imbecillus a valentissima bestia laniatur aut praeclara bestia venabulo transverberatur? quae tamen, si videnda sunt, saepe vidisti, neque nos, qui haec spectavimus, quidquam novi vidimus. Extremus elephantorum dies fuit: in quo admiratio magna vulgi atque turbae, delectatio nulla exstitit; quin etiam misericordia quaedam consecuta est atque opinio eiusmodi, esse quandam illi beluae cum genere humano societatem. His ego tamen diebus, ne forte videar tibi non modo beatus, sed liber omnino fuisse, dirupi me paene in iudicio Galli Caninii, familiaris tui. Quod si tam facilem populum haberem, quam Aesopus habuit, libenter mehercule [artem] desinerem tecumque et cum similibus nostri viverem; nam me cum antea taedebat, cum et aetas et ambitio me hortabatur et licebat denique, quem nolebam, non defendere, tum vero hoc tempore vita nulla est; neque enim fructum ullum laboris exspecto et cogor nonnumquam homines non optime de me meritos rogatu eorum, qui bene meriti sunt, defendere. Itaque quaero causas omnes aliquando vivendi arbitratu meo teque et istam rationem otii tui et laudo vehementer et probo, quodque nos minus intervisis, hoc fero animo aequiore, quod, si Romae esses, tamen neque nos lepore tuo neque te—si qui est in me—meo frui liceret propter molestissimas occupationes meas; quibus si me relaxaro—nam, ut plane exsolvam, non postulo—, te ipsum, qui multos annos nihil aliud commentaris, docebo profecto, quid sit humaniter vivere. Tu modo istam imbecillitatem valetudinis tuae sustenta et tuere, ut facis, ut nostras villas obire et mecum simul lecticula concursare possis. Haec ad te pluribus verbis scripsi, quam soleo, non otii abundantia, sed amoris erga te, quod me quadam epistula subinvitaras, si memoria tenes, ut ad te aliquid eiusmodi scriberem, quo minus te praetermisisse ludos poeniteret: quod si assecutus sum, gaudeo; sin minus, hoc me tamen consolor, quod posthac ad ludos venies nosque vises neque in epistulis relinques meis spem aliquam delectationis tuae.
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If some physical pain or weakness kept you from coming to the games, I credit fortune more than your wisdom. But if you judged that the things other people admire deserved contempt, and, although your health allowed it, you still chose not to come, then I rejoice in both facts: that your body was free from pain and that your mind was strong enough to ignore what others admire for no reason. I only hope you got real benefit from your leisure. You certainly had a wonderful chance to enjoy it, left almost alone in that lovely place of yours.
I do not doubt that in your little room, where you have opened a view toward Stabiae and laid Misenum before your eyes, you spent the mornings in light reading, while the people who left you there were watching common farces half asleep. The rest of the day you spent in pleasures arranged exactly to your taste. We, meanwhile, had to endure whatever Spurius Maecius had approved.
In short, if you ask me, the games were very elaborate, but not suited to your stomach. I judge from my own. First, for the sake of the occasion, actors had returned to the stage whom I thought had left it for the sake of their own dignity. Your favorite, our Aesop, was in such a condition that everyone would have allowed him to retire. When he began the oath, his voice failed at the words, "if I knowingly deceive." Why should I tell you the rest? You know what games are like. These did not even have the charm that ordinary mediocre games usually have. The sheer apparatus of the spectacle took away all pleasure.
You will have missed that apparatus with an entirely calm mind, I am sure. What pleasure is there in six hundred mules in Clytemnestra, or three thousand mixing bowls in the Trojan Horse, or infantry and cavalry in assorted armor for some battle scene? These things impressed the crowd; they would have given you no delight.
If, on the other hand, you spent those days with your Protogenes, provided he read you anything rather than my speeches, then you had far more pleasure than any of us. I do not imagine you missed Greek or Oscan plays, especially since you can see Oscan farces in your own local senate, and you care so little for Greek things that you do not even usually take the Greek Road to your villa. Why should I think you missed the athletes, when you passed over the gladiators? Even Pompey admits he wasted both effort and money on them.
There remained the wild-beast hunts, two each day for five days. Magnificent, no one denies it. But what pleasure can a cultivated person take in seeing a weak human being torn by a very powerful animal, or a splendid animal pierced through with a hunting spear? If such things are worth seeing, you have often seen them before; and those of us who watched saw nothing new. The last day was the elephants. The common crowd felt great wonder, but no pleasure. Indeed, a kind of pity followed, and a sense that this animal has some fellowship with the human race.
During those days, so that you should not think me blessed, or even wholly free, I nearly burst myself in the trial of your friend Gallus Caninius. If I had as indulgent an audience as Aesop had, I would gladly, by Hercules, give up my profession and live with you and people like us. I was already tired of it before, when age and ambition still urged me on and when I could refuse to defend anyone I did not want to defend. But now, in these times, there is no life in it. I expect no reward for my labor, and sometimes I am forced, at the request of people who have served me well, to defend people who have not served me well at all.
So I am looking for every excuse to live at last according to my own judgment. I strongly praise and approve you and your way of retirement. I bear your fewer visits to us more calmly because, if you were in Rome, my most tiresome obligations would still keep me from enjoying your charm, and would keep you from enjoying mine, if I have any. If I can loosen those obligations - I do not ask to escape them completely - I will certainly teach even you, who have studied nothing else for many years, what it means to live humanely.
Only keep up and protect that weak health of yours, as you are doing, so that you can visit my villas and run around with me in a litter. I have written at greater length than usual, not because I have too much leisure, but because I love you. In one of your letters, if you remember, you half invited me to write something that would make you less sorry for missing the games. If I have managed that, I am glad. If not, I still console myself with this: next time you will come to the games, visit me, and not leave all hope of your amusement to my letters.
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. 699. M. CICERO S. D. M. MARIO.
Si te dolor aliqui corporis aut infirmitas valetudinis tuae tenuit, quo minus ad ludos venires, fortunae magis tribuo quam sapientiae tuae; sin haec, quae ceteri mirantur, contemnenda duxisti et, cum per valetudinem posses, venire tamen noluisti, utrumque laetor, et sine dolore corporis te fuisse et animo valuisse, cum ea, quae sine causa mirantur alii, neglexeris, modo ut tibi constiterit fructus otii tui, quo quidem tibi perfrui mirifice licuit, cum esses in ista amoenitate paene solus relictus. Neque tamen dubito, quin tu in illo cubiculo tuo, ex quo tibi Stabianum perforasti et patefecisti Misenum, per eos dies matutina tempora lectiunculis consumpseris, cum illi interea, qui te istic reliquerunt, spectarent communes mimos semisomni. Reliquas vero partes diei tu consumebas iis delectationibus, quas tibi ipse ad arbitrium tuum compararas, nobis autem erant ea perpetienda, quae Sp. Maecius probavisset. Omnino, si quaeris, ludi apparatissimi, sed non tui stomachi; coniecturam enim facio de meo; nam primum honoris causa in scenam redierant ii, quos ego honoris causa de scena decessisse arbitrabar; deliciae vero tuae, noster Aesopus, eiusmodi fuit, ut ei desinere per omnes homines liceret: is iurare cum coepisset, vox eum defecit in illo loco: "si sciens fallo." Quid tibi ego alia narrem? nosti enim reliquos ludos, qui ne id quidem leporis habuerunt, quod solent mediocres ludi; apparatus enim spectatio tollebat omnem hilaritatem, quo quidem apparatu non dubito quin animo aequissimo carueris; quid enim delectationis habent sexcenti muli in Clytaemnestra aut in Equo Troiano creterrarum tria milia aut armatura varia peditatus et equitatus in aliqua pugna? quae popularem admirationem habuerunt, delectationem tibi nullam attulissent. Quod si tu per eos dies operam dedisti Protogeni tuo, dummodo is tibi quidvis potius quam orationes meas legerit, ne tu haud paullo plus quam quisquam nostrum delectationis habuisti; non enim te puto Graecos aut Oscos ludos desiderasse, praesertim cum Oscos vel in senatu vestro spectare possis, Graecos ita non ames, ut ne ad villam quidem tuam via Graeca ire soleas. Nam quid ego te athletas putem desiderare, qui gladiatores contempseris? in quibus ipse Pompeius confitetur se et operam et oleum perdidisse. Reliquae sunt venationes binae per dies quinque, magnificae—nemo negat—, sed quae potest homini esse polito delectatio, cum aut homo imbecillus a valentissima bestia laniatur aut praeclara bestia venabulo transverberatur? quae tamen, si videnda sunt, saepe vidisti, neque nos, qui haec spectavimus, quidquam novi vidimus. Extremus elephantorum dies fuit: in quo admiratio magna vulgi atque turbae, delectatio nulla exstitit; quin etiam misericordia quaedam consecuta est atque opinio eiusmodi, esse quandam illi beluae cum genere humano societatem. His ego tamen diebus, ne forte videar tibi non modo beatus, sed liber omnino fuisse, dirupi me paene in iudicio Galli Caninii, familiaris tui. Quod si tam facilem populum haberem, quam Aesopus habuit, libenter mehercule [artem] desinerem tecumque et cum similibus nostri viverem; nam me cum antea taedebat, cum et aetas et ambitio me hortabatur et licebat denique, quem nolebam, non defendere, tum vero hoc tempore vita nulla est; neque enim fructum ullum laboris exspecto et cogor nonnumquam homines non optime de me meritos rogatu eorum, qui bene meriti sunt, defendere. Itaque quaero causas omnes aliquando vivendi arbitratu meo teque et istam rationem otii tui et laudo vehementer et probo, quodque nos minus intervisis, hoc fero animo aequiore, quod, si Romae esses, tamen neque nos lepore tuo neque te—si qui est in me—meo frui liceret propter molestissimas occupationes meas; quibus si me relaxaro—nam, ut plane exsolvam, non postulo—, te ipsum, qui multos annos nihil aliud commentaris, docebo profecto, quid sit humaniter vivere. Tu modo istam imbecillitatem valetudinis tuae sustenta et tuere, ut facis, ut nostras villas obire et mecum simul lecticula concursare possis. Haec ad te pluribus verbis scripsi, quam soleo, non otii abundantia, sed amoris erga te, quod me quadam epistula subinvitaras, si memoria tenes, ut ad te aliquid eiusmodi scriberem, quo minus te praetermisisse ludos poeniteret: quod si assecutus sum, gaudeo; sin minus, hoc me tamen consolor, quod posthac ad ludos venies nosque vises neque in epistulis relinques meis spem aliquam delectationis tuae.