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 Cicero and his friends 
 
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CICERO 
 
 AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
The original of this book is in 
 the Cornell University Library. 
 
 There are no known copyright restrictions in 
 the United States on the use of the text. 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924028299778 
 
CICERO 
 
 AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 A STUDY OF ROMAN SOCIETY IN THE TIME 
 OF CAESAR 
 
 BY 
 
 GASTON ^ISSIER 
 
 OP THE FRENCH ACADEMY 
 
 TRANSLATED, WITH AN INDEX AND TABLE OF CONTENTS, BY 
 
 ADNAH DAVID JONES 
 
 New York: G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS 
 London: A. D. INNES & CO. 
 
 1897 
 
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 p\^^i^ii 
 
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CONTENTS 
 
 INTRODUCTION : 
 
 CICERO'S LETTERS ... ... i 
 
 Importance of private correspondence in ancient times. 
 Characteristics of Cicero's letters, i 
 
 CICERO IN PUBLIC AND PRIVATE LIFE: 
 
 I. PUBLIC LIFE ... 22 
 
 Severe judgments on Cicero in modern times, 22 
 i. Circumstances which determined Cicero's political 
 
 attitude. Birth, philosophical ideas, character, 24 
 ii. Cicero's political career. An opponent at first of 
 
 the aristocracy, 36. Attempts to form a middle 
 
 party, 46. The knights, 47. Finally joins the 
 
 aristocratic party, 51 
 iii. Judgment on Cicero should be from the point of 
 
 view of his contemporaries, 51. Corrupt state of 
 
 the Roman people, 64 
 iv. Cicero's work for the Republican party after the 
 
 death of Caesar, 69. His death, 77 
 
 II. PRIVATE LIFE 79 
 
 i. Sources of his wealth, 79 
 
 ii. His married life, 89 
 iii. His children, 100 
 
 iv. His relations to his slaves, 108. His clients, 113. 
 Rabirius, 116 
 
vi CONTENTS 
 
 ATTICUS 123 
 
 i. His reasons for not entering public life, 124. His 
 
 life at Athens, 127. His life in Rome, 132 
 ii. His character in private life, 134 
 iii. His character in public life, 147 
 
 CAELIUS : 
 
 THE ROMAN YOUTH IN THE TIME OF CAESAR ... 1 59 
 i. Family and education of Caelius, 160. Influence of 
 
 women at Rome, 163. Clodia, i65 
 ii. Character of Caelius, 176. Joins Caesar's party, 
 
 184 
 iii. Caesar had no genuine friends, 191. Reasons of 
 Caelius' enmity to him, 197. His death, 206 
 
 CAESAR AND CICERO : 
 
 I. CICERO AND THE CAMP OF CAESAR IN GAUL 209 
 
 i. Cicero's return to Rome, zio. State of the city, 
 211. Leaves the aristocratic party and joins the 
 triumvirs, 216 
 
 ii. Renews his intimacy with Caesar, 224. Pompey 
 and Caesar compared, 226. Caesar in Gaul, 230 
 
 iii. Cicero's letters to his brother and to Trebatius sup- 
 plement the Commentaries, 241. Effect produced 
 in Rome by Caesar's victories, 251 
 
 II. THE VICTOR AND THE VANQUISHED ... ... 257 
 
 Cicero's intention to retire from political life, 257 
 
 i. Resumes intercourse with Caesar, 260. The exiles 
 recalled through his influence, 268. The Pro 
 Marcello, 271 
 
 ii. Discussion between Cicero and Caesar as to Cato. 
 Cato not so hard as he is usually considered, his 
 rectitude made him unpractical, 277. Unfitted to 
 lead a party, 284. Becomes more moderate, 285. 
 His death, 287. Contrasted with Caesar, 288 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 iii. Caesar wishes to conciliate the Republican party, 
 291. Appoints members of it to public offices, 293. 
 In spite of this there was a profound discontent with 
 the new government, 297 
 
 BRUTUS : 
 
 HIS RELATIONS WITH CICERO 303 
 
 i. His family, education, and character, 304. His 
 friendship with Cicero, 308. Roman ideas of 
 governing the provinces, 311. Joins Pompey, 317 
 
 ii. Brutus's prospects of high office destroyed by the 
 battle of Pharsalia. Turns to philosophy. Cicero 
 does the same and produces his philosophical works, 
 
 318 
 
 iii. Formation of a new Republican party, 329. In- 
 fluences brought to bear on Brutus in order to im- 
 plicate him in the conspiracy against Caesar, 330 
 
 iv. Causes of the failure of Brutus and his party, 339 
 
 OCTAVIUS : 
 
 THE POLITICAL TESTAMENT OF AUGUSTUS ... 359 
 
 The Ancyran Inscription, 36 1 
 
 i. The narrative intentionally incomplete, 364. Light 
 
 thrown by it on the internal government of Augustus, ' 
 
 368. Relations of Augustus with his soldiers, 369. 
 With the people, 372. With the senate, 373. His 
 policy in reconstructing public buildings, 377 
 ii. The preamble of the Edict of proscription and the 
 Ancyran Inscription, together, contain the political 
 life of Augustus, 381. Permanent effect of his 
 policy on the government of the empire, 386 
 iii. Publication of Cicero's letters, 388 
 
CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 Cicero's letters 
 
 No history is more readily studied now-a-days than that 
 of the last years of the Roman Republic. Learned works 
 have recently been published upon this subject in France, 
 England, and Germany,^ and the public has read them 
 with avidity. The importance of the subjects which were 
 then debated, the dramatic character of the events, and the 
 grandeur of the characters warrant this interest j but the 
 attraction we feel for this singular epoch is better explained 
 by the fact that it is narrated for us in Cicero's letters. 
 
 A contemporary said that he who read these letters 
 would not be tempted to seek the history of that time^ 
 elsewhere, and in fact we find it much more living and 
 true in them than in regular works composed expressly to 
 teach it to us. What more would Asinius PoUio, Livy, or 
 
 ' The course of this work will show that I have made great use of 
 works published in Germany, especially the fine Roman History of 
 M. Mommsen, so learned and at the same time so living. I do not 
 always share his opinions, but the influence of his ideas will be per- 
 ceived even in passages where I do not agree with him. He is the 
 master of all who study Rome and her history now. 
 
 '^ Corn. Nepos, Att. i6. 
 
 B 
 
CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 Cremutius Cordus teach us if we had them preserved? 
 They would give us their personal opinion ; but this 
 opinion is for the most part open to suspicion because it 
 comes from persons who could not tell the whole truth, 
 from men like Livy, who wrote at the court of the emperprs, 
 or who hoped, like PoUio, to get their treason pardoned, by 
 blackening the character of those whom they had betrayed. 
 Instead of receiving a ready-made opinion it is better to 
 make one for ourselves, and the perusal of Cicero's letters 
 enables us to do this. It throws us into the midst of the 
 events, and lets us follow them day by day. We seem 
 to see them pass before our eyes, notwithstanding the 
 eighteen centuries that intervene, and we find ourselves in 
 the unique position of being sufficiently near the facts to 
 see their real character, and sufficiently distant to judge 
 them dispassionately. 
 
 The importance of these letters is easily explained. The 
 politicians of those times had more need of correspondence 
 with each other than those of the present day. The pro- 
 consul starting from Rome to govern some distant province 
 felt that he was withdrawing altogether from political life. 
 To pass several years in those out-of-the-way countries which 
 the public rumour of Rome did not reach, was very irksome 
 to men accustomed to the stir of business, the agitations of 
 parties, or, as they said, the broad daylight of the Forum. 
 They did indeed receive a sort of official gazette, the 
 Acta diurna, the venerable ancestor of our Moniteur. But 
 it appears as though every official journal is condemned by 
 its nature to be somewhat insignificant. The Roman journal 
 contained a rather tame official report of public meetings, 
 a short summary of important cases tried in the Forum, 
 besides an account of pubhc ceremonies and accurate 
 notice of atmospheric phenomena or prodigies occurring 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 in Rome or its neighbourhood. This is not precisely the 
 sort of news that a praetor or pro-consul wished to know, 
 and therefore, in order to fill up the gaps in the official 
 journal, he had recourse to paid correspondents, who made 
 "news-letters" for the use of inquisitive provincials, as was 
 the fashion among ourselves in the last century; but 
 while, in the eighteenth century, literary men of reputation, 
 intimate with the nobles and well received by ministers, 
 undertook this duty, the Roman correspondents were only 
 obscure compilers, workmen as Caelius calls them, usually 
 chosen among those hungry Greeks whom want made 
 ready for anything. They had no admittance into the 
 great houses, nor could they approach the politicians. 
 Their part simply consisted in running over the town and 
 picking up what they heard or saw in the streets. They 
 carefully noted theatrical chit-chat, inquired about actors 
 who had been hissed and gladiators who had been beaten, 
 described minutely handsome funerals, noted the rumours 
 and ill-natured gossip, and especially the scandalous tales they 
 could catch.^ All this chatter amused for a moment, but 
 did not satisfy those political personages who wished above 
 all to be kept abreast of affairs, and, in order to become 
 acquainted with them, they naturally appUed to some one 
 who was in a position to know them. They chose a ifw 
 trustworthy and well-informed friends of good position, and 
 through them learnt the reason and the real character of the 
 facts reported dryly and without comment by the journals ; 
 and while their paid correspondents gave them only the 
 talk of the town, the others introduced them into the 
 cabinets of the high politicians, and made them listen to 
 their most private conversations. 
 
 ' See Cicero's Epist. ad fam. ii. 8 and viii. I. I shall quote Orelli's 
 edition of Cicero's works in the course of this work. 
 
CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 No one felt this need of being kept informed of every- 
 thing, and, so to say, of Uving in the midst of Rome after 
 he had left it, more than Cicero. No one liked that excite- 
 ment of public life which statesmen complain of when they 
 possess it, and never cease to regret when they have lost it, 
 more than he. We must not believe him too readily when 
 he says that he is tired of the stormy discussions of the 
 senate ; that he seeks a country where they have not heard 
 of Vatinius or Caesar, and where they do not trouble them- 
 selves about agrarian laws ; that he has an anxious craving 
 to go and forget Rome under the agreeable shades of 
 Arpinum, or in the delightful neighbourhood of Formiae. As 
 soon as he is settled down at Formiae or Arpinum, or in 
 some other of those handsome villas which he proudly calls 
 the gems of Italy, ocellos Italiae, his thoughts naturally return 
 to Rome, and couriers are constantly starting to go and 
 learn what people are thinking and doing there. He could 
 never take his eyes off the Forum, whatever he may say. 
 Far or near he must have what Saint-Simon calls " that 
 smack of business that poHticians cannot do without." 
 He wished by all means to know the position of parties, 
 their secret agreements, their internal discords, all those 
 hidden intrigues that lead up to events and explain them. 
 This is what he was continually demanding of Atticus, 
 Curio, Caelius, and so many other great men mixed up 
 in these intrigues either as actors or spectators, and what he 
 himself narrates to his- absent friends in the most Uvely 
 manner, and thus the letters that he received or sent contain, 
 without his intending it, all the history of his time.* 
 
 1 I have attempted to clear up some of the questions to which the 
 publication of Cicero's letters has given rise in a treatise entitled, 
 Recherckes sur la maniire dontfurent recuHlHes et publiies les lettres de 
 Ciciron, Paris, Durand, 1 863. 
 
INTRODUCTION 5 
 
 The correspondence of political men of our time, when it 
 is published, is far from having the same importance, because 
 the exchange of sentiment and thought is not made so much 
 by means of letters now as it was then. We have invented 
 new methods. The immense publicity of the press has 
 advantageously replaced those cautious communications 
 which could not reach beyond a few persons. Now-a-days 
 the newspapers keep a man informed of what is doing in 
 the world, whatever unfrequented place he may have retired 
 to. As he learns events almost as soon as they happen, he 
 receives the excitement as well as the news of them, and has 
 no need of a well-informed friend to apprise him of them. 
 To seek for all that the newspapers have destroyed and 
 replaced among us would be an interesting study. In 
 Cicero's time letters often took their place and rendered the 
 same services. They were passed from hand to hand when 
 they contained news men had an interest in knowing ; and 
 those of important persons which made known their senti- 
 ments were read, commented on, and copied. A politician, 
 who was attacked, defended himself by them before people 
 whose esteem he desired to preserve, and through them 
 men tried to form a sort of public opinion in a limited 
 public when the Forum was silent, as in Caesar's time. The 
 newspapers have taken up this duty now and make a 
 business of politics, and as they are incomparably more 
 convenient, rapid, and diffused, they have taken from corre- 
 spondence one of its principal subjects. 
 
 It is true that private affairs remain for it, and we are 
 tempted to think at first that this subject is inexhaustible, 
 and that with the sentiments and affections of so many 
 kinds that fill our home life it would always be rich enough. 
 Nevertheless, I think that private correspondence becomes 
 every day shorter and less interesting, where it is only a 
 
CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 question of feeling and affection. That constant and agree- 
 able intercourse which filled so large a place in the life of 
 former times, tends almost to disappear, and one would say 
 that by a strange chance the facility and rapidity of inter- 
 course, which ought to give it more animation, have been 
 injurious to it. Formerly, when there was no post, or when 
 it was reserved for the emperor's use, as with the Romans, 
 men were obliged to take advantage of any opportunity that 
 occurred, or to send their letters by a slave. Then writing 
 was a serious affair. They did not want the messenger to 
 make a useless journey ; letters were made longer and more 
 complete to avoid the necessity of beginning again too 
 often ; unconsciously they were more carefully finished, by 
 the thought we naturally give to things that cost trouble 
 and are not very easy. Even in the time of Madame de 
 Sdvign^, when the mails started only once or twice a week, 
 writing was still a serious business to which every care was 
 given. The mother, far from her daughter, had no sooner 
 sent off her letter than she was thinking of the one she 
 would send a few days later. Thoughts, memories, regrets 
 gathered in her mind during this interval, and when she 
 took up her pen " she could no longer govern this torrent." 
 Now, when we know that we can write when we will, we do 
 not collect material as Madame de S^vignd did, we do not 
 write a little every day, we no longer seek to " empty our 
 budget," or torment ourselves in order to forget nothing, lest 
 forgetfulness should make the news stale by coming too late. 
 While the periodical return of the post formerly brought 
 more order and regularity into correspondence, the facility 
 we have now for writing when we will causes us to write less 
 often. We wait to have something to say, which is seldomer 
 than one thinks. We write no more than is necessary ; and 
 this is very little for a correspondence whose chief pleasure 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 lies in the superfluous, and we are threatened with a reduc- 
 tion of that little. Soon, no doubt, the telegraph will have 
 replaced the post ; we shall only communicate by this breath- 
 less instrument, the image of a matter-of-fact and hurried 
 society, which, even in the style it employs, tries to use a 
 little less than what is necessary. With this new progress 
 the pleasure of private correspondence, already much im- 
 paired, will have disappeared for ever. 
 
 But when people had more opportunities for writing 
 letters, and wrote them better, all did not succeed equally. 
 Some dispositions are fitter for this work than others. 
 People whose minds move slowly, and who have need of 
 much reflection before writing, make memoirs and not 
 letters. The sober-minded write in a regular and method- 
 ical manner, but they lack grace and warmth. Logicians and 
 reasoners have the habit of following up their thoughts too 
 closely ; now, one ought to know how to pass lightly from 
 one subject to another, in order that the interest may be 
 sustained, and to leave them all before they are exhausted. 
 Those who are solely occupied with one idea, who concen- 
 trate themselves on it, and will not leave it, are only eloquent 
 when they speak of it, which is not enough. To be always 
 agreeable, and on all subjects, as a regular correspondence 
 demands, one must have a lively and active imagination 
 which receives the impressions of the moment and changes 
 abruptly with them. This is the first quality of good letter 
 writers; I will add to it, if you like, a little artifice. 
 Writing always requires a certain effort. To succeed in 
 writing we must aim at success, and the disposition to please 
 must precede the wish to do so. It is natural enough to 
 wish to please that great public for whom books are written, 
 but it is the mark of a more exacting vanity to exert one's 
 powers for a single person. It has often been asked since 
 
CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 La Bruyfere, why women succeed better than men in this 
 kind of writing ? Is it not because they have a greater desire 
 to please and a natural vanity which is, so to say, always 
 under arms, which neglects no conquest, and feels the need 
 of making efforts to please everybody ? 
 
 I think nobody ever possessed these qualities in the same 
 degree as Cicero. That insatiable vanity, that openness to 
 impressions, that easiness in letting himself be seized and 
 mastered by events, are found in his whole life and in all 
 his works. It seems, at first sight, that there is a great 
 difference between his letters and his speeches, and we are 
 tempted to ask ourselves how the same man has been able 
 to succeed in styles so opposed ; but astonishment ceases as 
 soon as we look a little closer. When we seek the really 
 original qualities of his speeches they are found to be alto- 
 gether the same that charm us in his letters. His common- 
 places have got rather old, his pathos leaves us cold, and 
 we often find that there is too much artifice in his rhetoric, 
 but his narrations and portraits remain living in his speeches. 
 It would be difficult to find a greater talent than his for 
 narrative and description, and for representing to the life 
 as he does both events and men. If he shows them to 
 us so clearly, it is because he has them himself before his 
 eyes. When he shows us the trader Cherea " with his eye- 
 brows shaved, and that head which smells of tricks, and in 
 which malignity breathes,"! or the praetor Verres taking an 
 airing in a litter with eight bearers, like a king of Bithynia, 
 softly lying on Malta roses,^ or Vatinius rushing forth to 
 speak, "his eyes starting, his neck swollen, his muscles 
 stretched, "2 or the Gallic witnesses, who walk about the 
 Forum with an air of triumph and head erect,* or the Greek 
 
 ^ Pro. Rose. com. 7. * In Verrem. act. sec. v. 11. 
 
 ' In Vatin. 2. * Pro Font. 11. 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 witnesses who chatter without ceasing and gesticulate with 
 the shoulders,! all those characters, in fine, that when once 
 they have been met with in his works are never forgotten, 
 his powerful and mobile imagination sees them before paint- 
 ing them. He possesses in a wonderful degree the faculty 
 of making himself the spectator of what he narrates. Things 
 strike him, persons attract or repel him with an incredible 
 vivacity, and he throws himself entirely into the pictures he 
 makes of them. What passion there is in his narratives ! 
 What furious bursts of anger in his attacks ! What frenzy of 
 joy when he describes some ill fortune of his enemies ! 
 How one feels that he is penetrated and overwhelmed with 
 it, that he enjoys it, that he delights in it and gloats over it, 
 according to his energetic expressions : his ego rebus pascor, 
 Ms delector, his perfruor!'^ Saint-Simon, intoxicated with 
 hatred and joy, expresses himself almost in the same terms 
 in the famous scene of the "bed of justice," when he sees 
 the Duke of Maine struck down and the bastards discrowned. 
 " I, however," says he, "was dying with joy, I was even fear- 
 ing a swoon. My heart, swelled to excess, found no room 
 to expand .... I triumphed, I avenged myself, I swam in 
 my vengeance." Saint-Simon earnestly desired power, and 
 twice he thought he held it ; " but the waters, as with Tan- 
 talus, retired from his lips every time he thought to touch 
 them." I do not think, however, that we ought to pity 
 him. He would have ill filled the place of Colbert and 
 Louvois, and even his good qualities perhaps would have 
 been hurtful to him. Passionate and irritable, he feels 
 warmly the slightest injury, and flies into a passion at 
 every turn. The smallest incidents excite him, and we 
 feel that when he relates them he does so with all his heart. 
 This ardent sensitiveness which warms, all his narratives 
 1 Pro Rabir. post. 13. "^ In Pison. 20, 
 
CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 has made him an incomparable painter, but as it would 
 always have confused his judgment it would have made him 
 an indifferent politician. Cicero's example shows this well. 
 We are right then in saying that we find the same quahties 
 in Cicero's speeches as in his letters, but they are more 
 evident in his letters, because he is freer and gives more 
 play to his feelings. When he writes to any of his friends, 
 he does not reflect so long as when he is to address the 
 people ; he gives his first impressions, and gives them with 
 life and passion as they rise in him. He does not take the 
 trouble to polish his style; all that he writes has usually such 
 a graceful air, something so easy and simple that we cannot 
 suspect preparation or artifice. A correspondent who wished 
 to please him, having spoken to him one day of the thunders 
 of his utterance, fuhnina verborum, he answered : " What do 
 you think then of my letters ? Do you not think that I 
 write to you in the ordinary style ? One must not always 
 keep the same tone. A letter cannot resemble a pleading 
 or a political speech . . . one uses every-day expressions in 
 it." 1 Even if he had wished to give more care to them he 
 could not have found leisure. He had so many to write to 
 content everybody ! Atticus alone sometimes received three 
 in the same day. So he wrote them where he could — during 
 the sitting of the senate, in his garden, when he is out 
 walking, on the high-road when he is travelling. Sometimes 
 he dates them from his dining-room, where he dictates them 
 to his secretaries between two courses. When he writes 
 them with his own hand he does not give himself time to 
 reflect any the more. " I take the first pen I find," he tells 
 his brother, " and use it as if it were good." ^ Thus it was 
 not always easy to decipher him. When any one complains 
 he does not lack excuses. It is the fault of his friends' 
 
 ' Adfam. ix. 2i. 2 Ad Quint, ii. 15, 6. 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 messengers, who will not wait. " They come all ready to 
 start, with their travelling caps on, saying that their com- 
 panions are waiting for them at the door." i Not to keep 
 them waiting, he must write at random all that comes into 
 his mind. 
 
 Let us thank these impatient friends, these hurried mes- 
 sengers who did not give Cicero time to make eloquent 
 essays. His letters please us precisely because they con- 
 tain the first flow of his emotions, because they are full of 
 graceful negligence and naturalness. As he does not take 
 time to disguise himself we see him as he is. His brother 
 said to him one day, " I saw your own self in your letter." ^ 
 We are inclined to say the same thing ourselves every time 
 we read him. If he is so lively, earnest, and animated when 
 he addresses his friends, it is because he so easily transports 
 himself in imagination to the places where they are. " I 
 feel as though I were talking to you," ^ he writes to one of 
 them. " I don't know how it happens," he says to another, 
 "that I think I am near you while writing to you."* He gives 
 way to his passing emotions in his letters even more than in 
 his speeches. When he arrives at one of his fine country 
 houses that he likes so much, he gives himself up to the 
 pleasure of seeing it again ; it has never seemed to him so 
 fine. He visits his porticoes, his gymnasia, his garden seats; 
 he runs to his books, ashamed of having left them. Love 
 of solitude seizes him so strongly that he never finds him- 
 self sufficiently alone. He ends by disliking his house at For- 
 miae because there are so many intruders. "It is not a villa," 
 he says, " it is a public lounge." ^ There he finds again the 
 greatest bores in the world, his friend Sebosus and his friend 
 Arrius, who persists in not returning to Rome, however much 
 
 1 Ad/am. xv. 17. ^ Ibid. xvi. 16. ^ Ad Att. xiii. 18, 
 
 <* Ad fam. XV. 16. ^ Ad Att. ii. 14. 
 
CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 he may entreat him, in order to keep him company and 
 philosophize with him all day long. " While I am writing 
 to you," he says to Atticus, " Sebosus is announced. I have 
 not finished lamenting this when I hear Arrius saluting me. 
 Is this leaving Rome ? What is the use of flying from others 
 to fall into the hands of these ? " I wish, he adds, quoting 
 a fine verse very likely borrowed from his own works, " I 
 wish to fly to the mountains of my birthplace, the cradle of 
 my infancy. In monies patrios et ad incunabula nostra." ^ 
 He goes in fact to Arpinum ; he extends his journey to 
 Antium, the wild Antium, where he passes the time counting 
 the waves. This obscure tranquillity pleases him so much 
 that he regrets he was not duumvir in this little town rather 
 than consul at Rome. He has no higher ambition than to 
 be rejoined by his friend Atticus, to walk with him in the 
 sun, or to talk philosophy "seated on the little bench 
 beneath the statue of Aristotle." At this moment he seems 
 disgusted with public life, he will not hear speak of it. " I 
 am resolved to think no more about it," ^ he says. But we 
 know how he kept this sort of promise. As soon as he is 
 back in Rome he plunges into the thick of politics ; the 
 country and its pleasures are forgotten. We only detect 
 from time to time a few passing regrets for a calmer life. 
 " When shall we live then ? " quando vivemus ? says he sadly 
 in this whirlwind of business that hurries him on.^ But 
 these timorous complaints are soon stifled by the noise and 
 movement of the combat. He enters and takes part in it 
 with more ardour than anybody. He is still excited by it 
 when he writes to Atticus, its agitation is shown by his letters 
 which communicate it to us. We imagine ourselves looking 
 on at those incredible scenes that take place in the senate 
 when he attacks Clodius, sometimes by set speeches, some- 
 ' 4d AH. ii. 15. 2 Ibid. ii. 4. ' Ad Quint, iii. i, 4, 
 
INTRODUCTION 13 
 
 times by impetuous questions, employing against him by 
 turns the heaviest arms of rhetoric and the lightest shafts of 
 raillery. He is still more sprightly when he describes the 
 popular assemblies and recounts the scandals of the elections. 
 " Follow me to the Campus Martius, corruption is rampant, 
 sequere me in Campum; ardet ambitus.^' ^ And he shows us 
 the candidates at work, purse in hand, or the judges in the 
 Forum shamelessly selling themselves to whoever will pay 
 ih^va, judices quos fames magis quamfama commm)it. 
 
 As he has the habit of giving way to his impressions and 
 changing with them, his tone varies from letter to letter. 
 Nothing is more desponding thafi those he writes in exile ; 
 they are a continual moan; but his sentences suddenly 
 become majestic and triumphant immediately after his return 
 from exile. They are full of those flattering superlatives that 
 he distributes so liberally to those who have served him, for- 
 tissimus, prudenfissimus, exoptatissimus, etc., he extols in 
 magnificent terms the marks of esteem given him by people 
 of position, the authority he enjoys in the Curia, the credit he 
 has so gloriously reconquered in the Forum, splendorem 
 ilium forensem, et in senatu auctoritaiem ef apud viros bonos 
 gratiam? Although he is only addressing his faithful 
 Atticus, we think we hear an echo of the set orations he has 
 just pronounced in the senate and before the people. It 
 sometimes happens that on the gravest occasions he smiles 
 and jokes with a friend who amuses him. In the thick of 
 his conflict with Antony he writes that charming letter to 
 Papirius Poetus, in which he advises him in such a diverting 
 'manner to frequent again the good tables, and to give good 
 dinners to his friends. ^ He does not defy dangers, he 
 forgets them ; but let him meet some timorous person, he 
 soon partakes his fear, his tone changes at once ; he becomes 
 
 1 Ad Att. iv. IS- ° Il>i^- 'V- !• ° Ad/am. ix. 24. 
 
14 CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 animated, heated ; sadness, fear, emotion carry him without 
 effort to the highest flights of eloquence. When Caesar 
 threatens Rome, and insolently places his final conditions 
 before the senate, Cicero's courage rises, and he uses, when 
 writing to a single person, those energetic figures of speech 
 which would not be out of place in a public oration. "What 
 a fate is ours ! Must we then give way to his impudent 
 demands ! for so Pompey calls them. In fact has a more 
 shameless audacity ever been seen ? — You have occupied 
 for ten years a province that the senate has not given you, 
 but which you have seized yourself by intrigue and violence. 
 The term has arrived which your caprice alone and not the 
 law has fixed for your power. — But let us suppose it was the 
 law — the term having arrived, we name your successor, but 
 you resist and say, ' Respect my rights.' And you, what do 
 you do to ours ? What pretext have you for keeping your 
 army beyond the term fixed by the people, in spite of the 
 senate ? — You must give way to me or fight. — Well then ! 
 let us fight, answers Pompey, at least we have the chance of 
 conquering or of dying free men." ^ 
 
 If I wished to find another example of this agreeable 
 variety and these rapid changes, I should not turn to Pliny 
 or to those who, like him, wrote their letters for the public, 
 I should come down to Madame de Sdvignd She, like 
 Cicero, has a very lively and versatile ima,gination ; she 
 gives way to her first emotions without reflection; she is 
 caught by things present, and the pleasure she is enjoying 
 always seems the highest. It has been remarked that she 
 took pleasure everywhere, not through that indolence of 
 mind that attaches us to the place where we are, to avoid 
 the trouble of changing, but by the vivacity of her character 
 which gave her up entirely to the pleasures of the moment. 
 ^ Ad Att. vii. 9. 
 
INTROD UCTION 1 5 
 
 Paris does not charm her so much as to prevent her liking 
 the country, and no one of that age has spoken about 
 nature better than this woman of fashion who was so 
 much at ease in drawing-rooms, and seemed made for 
 them. She escapes to Livry the first fine day to enjoy 
 " the triumph of May," to "the nightingale, the cuckoo, and 
 the warbler that begin the spring in the woods." But Livry 
 is still too fashionable, she must have a more complete 
 solitude, and she cheerfully retires under her great trees in 
 Brittany. This time her Paris friends think she will be 
 wearied to death, having no news to repeat or fine wits to 
 converse with. But she has taken some serious moral 
 treatise by Nicole with her; she has found among those 
 neglected books whose last refuge, like that of old furniture, 
 is the country, some romance of her young days which 
 she reads again secretly, and in which she is astonished 
 still to find pleasure. She chats with her tenants, and just 
 as Cicero preferred the society of the country people to that 
 of the provincial fashionables, she likes better to talk with 
 her gardener Pilois than with " several who have preserved 
 the title of esquire in the parliament of Rennes." She 
 walks in her Mall, in those solitary alleys where the trees 
 covered with fine-sounding mottoes almost seem as though 
 they were speaking to each other; she finds, in fact, so 
 much pleasure in her desert that she cannot make up her 
 mind to leave it ; nevertheless no woman likes Paris better. 
 Once back there she surrenders herself wholly to the 
 pleasures of fashionable life. Her letters are full of it. 
 She takes impressions so readily that we might almost tell 
 in perusing them what books she has just been reading, 
 at what conversations she has been present, what drawing- 
 rooms she has just left. When she repeats so pleasantly to 
 her daughter the gossip of the court we perceive that she 
 
i6 CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 has just been conversing with the graceful and witty 
 Madame de Coulanges, who has repeated it to her. When 
 she speaks so touchingly of Turenne she has just left the 
 Hotel de Bouillon, where the prince's family are lamenting 
 his broken fortunes as well as his death. She lectures, she 
 sermonizes herself with Nicole, but not for long. Let her 
 son come in and tell her some of those gay adventures of 
 which he has been the hero or the victim, she recounts 
 boldly the most risky tales on condition of saying a little 
 later, " Pardon us, Monsieur Nicole ! " When she has been 
 visiting La Rochefoucauld everything turns to morality; 
 she draws lessons from everything, everywhere she sees 
 some image of life and of the human heart, even in the 
 viper broth that they are going to give Madame de la 
 Fayette who is ill. Is not this viper, which though opened 
 and skinned still writhes, like our old passions ? " What 
 do we not do to them ? We treat them with insult, 
 harshness, cruelty, disdain ; we wrangle, lament, and storm, 
 and yet they move. We cannot overcome them. We 
 think, when we have plucked out their heart, that they are 
 done with and we shall hear no more of them. But no ; 
 they are always alive, they are always moving." This ease 
 with which she receives impressions, and which causes her 
 to adopt so quickly the sentiments of the people she visits, 
 makes her also feel the shock of the great events she looks 
 on at. The style of her letters rises when she narrates them, 
 and, like Cicero, she becomes eloquent unconsciously. 
 Whatever admiration the greatness of the thoughts and the 
 liveliness of expression in that fine piece of Cicero upon 
 Caesar that I quoted just now may cause me, I am still 
 more touched, I admit, by the letter of Madame de 
 S^vign^ on the death of Louvois, and I find more boldness 
 and brilliancy in that terrible dialogue which she imagines 
 
INTRODUCTION 17 
 
 between the minister who demands pardon and God who 
 refuses it. 
 
 These are admirable qualities, but they bring with them 
 certain disadvantages. Such hasty impressions are often 
 rather fleeting. When people are carried away by a too 
 vivid imagination, they do not take time to reflect before 
 speaking, and run the risk of often having to change their 
 opinion. Thus Madame de Sdvign^ has contradicted 
 herself more than once. But being only a woman of 
 fashion, her inconsistency has not much weight, and we do 
 not look on it as a crime. What does it matter to us that 
 her opinions on Fldchier and Mascaron have varied, that 
 after having unreservedly admired the Princesse de Clives 
 when she read it alone, she hastened to find a thousand 
 faults in it when her cousin Bussy condemned it? But 
 Cicero is a politician, and he is expected to be more serious. 
 We demand that his opinions should have more coherency ; 
 now, this is precisely what the liveliness of his imagina- 
 tion least permits. He never boasted of being consistent. 
 When he judges events or men he sometimes passes without 
 scruple, in a few days, from one extreme to the other. In 
 a letter of the end of October Cato is called an excellent 
 friend {amicissmus), and the way in which he has acted is 
 declared to be satisfactory ; at the beginning of November 
 he is accused of having been shamefully malevolent in the 
 same affair,^ because Cicero seldom judges but by his 
 impressions, and in a mobile spirit like his, very different 
 but equally vivid impressions follow each other very 
 quickly. 
 
 Another danger, and one still greater, of th^excess of 
 imagination which cannot control itself is that it may give 
 us the lowest and most false opinion of those who yield to 
 
 1 Ad Att. vii. I, 2. 
 
 C 
 
CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 it. Perfect characters are only found in novels. Good 
 and evil are so intermingled in our nature that the one is 
 seldom found without the other. The strongest characters 
 have their weaknesses, and the finest actions do not spring 
 only from the most honourable motives. Our best affections 
 are not entirely exempt from selfishness; doubts and 
 wrongful suspicions sometimes trouble the firmest friend- 
 ships, and it may happen at certain moments that cupidity 
 and jealousy, of which one is ashamed the next day, flit 
 rapidly through the mind of the most honourable persons. 
 The prudent and clever carefully conceal all those feelings 
 which cannot bear the light ; those whose quick impressions 
 carry them away, like Cicero, speak out, and they are very 
 much blamed. The spoken or written word gives more 
 strength and permanence to these fugitive thoughts ; they 
 were only flashes; they are fixed and accentuated by 
 writing ; they acquire a clearness, a relief and importance 
 that they had not in reality. Those momentary weaknesses, 
 those ridiculous suspicions which spring from wounded 
 self-esteem, those short bursts of anger, quieted as soon as 
 reflected on, those unjust thoughts that vexation produces, 
 those ambitious fits that reason hastens to disavow, 
 never perish when once they have been confided to a 
 friend. ' One of these days a prying commentator will study 
 these too unreserved disclosures, and will use them, to 
 draw a portrait of the indiscrete person who made them, to 
 I frighten posterity. He will prove by exact and irrefutable 
 quotations that he was a bad citizen and a bad friend, that 
 he loved neither his country nor his family, that he was 
 jealous of honest people, and that he betrayed all parties. 
 It is not so, however, and a wise man will not be deceived 
 by the artifice of misleading quotations. Such a man well 
 knows that we must not take these impetuous people 
 
INTRODUCTION 19 
 
 literally or give too much credence to what they say. We 
 must save them from themselves, refuse to listen to them 
 when they are led astray by passion, and especially must 
 we distinguish their real and lasting feelings from all those 
 exaggerations which are merely passing. For these reasons 
 every one is not fitted to thoroughly understand these 
 letters, every one cannot read them as they should be read. 
 I mistrust those learned men who, without any acquaintance 
 with men or experience of life, pretend to judge Cicero 
 from his correspondence. Most frequently they judge him 
 ill. They search for the expression of his thought in that 
 commonplace politeness which society demands, and which 
 no more binds those who use it than it deceives those who 
 accept it. Those concessions that must be made if we 
 wish to live together they call cowardly compromises. 
 They see manifest contradictions in those different shades 
 a man gives to his opinions, according to the persons he is 
 talking with. They triumph over the imprudence of certain 
 admissions, or the fatuity of certain praises, because they 
 do not perceive the fine irony that tempers them. To 
 appreciate all these shades, to give things their real im- 
 portance, to be a good judge of the drift of those phrases 
 which are said with half a smile, and do not always mean 
 what they seem to say, requires more acquaintance with 
 life than one usually gets in a German university. If I 
 must say what I think, I would rather trust a man of the 
 world than a scholar in this matter, for a delicate appreciation. 
 Cicero is not the only person whom this correspondence 
 shows us. It is full of curious details about all those 
 who had friendly or business relations with him. They 
 were the most illustrious persons of the time, and they 
 played the chief parts in the revolution that put an end to 
 the Roman Republic. No one deserves to be studied 
 more than they. It must be remarked here, that one of 
 
CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 Cicero's failings has greatly benefited posterity. If it were 
 a question of some one else, of Cato for instance, how 
 many people's letters would be missing in this correspond- 
 ence ! The virtuous alone would find a place in it, and 
 Heaven knows their number was not then very great. But, 
 happily, Cicero was much more tractable, and did not bring 
 Cato's rigorous scruples into the choice of his friends. A 
 sort of good-nature made him accessible to people of every 
 opinion ; his vanity made him seek praise everywhere. 
 He had dealings with all parties, a great fault in a politician, 
 for which the shrewd people of his time have bitterly 
 reproached him, but a fault that we profit by; hence it 
 happens that all parties are represented in his correspond- 
 ence. This obliging humour sometimes brought him into 
 contact with people whose opinions were the most opposite 
 to his, and he found himself at certain times in close 
 relations with the worst citizens whom he has at other times 
 lashed with his invectives. Letters that he had received 
 from Antony, Dolabella, and Curio still remain, and these 
 letters are full of expressions of respect and friendship. If 
 the correspondence went further back we should probably 
 have some of Catiline's, and, frankly, I regret the want of 
 them ; for if we wish to judge of the state of a society as 
 of the constitution of a man, it is not enough to examine 
 the sound parts, we must handle and probe to the bottom 
 the unsound parts. Thus, all the important men of that 
 time, whatever their conduct may have been, or to whatever 
 party they may have belonged, had dealings with Cicero. 
 Memorials of all are found in his correspondence. A few 
 of their letters still exist, and we have a large number of 
 those that Cicero wrote to them. The private details he 
 gives us about them, what he tells us of their opinions, their 
 habits, and character, allows us to enter freely into their life. 
 Thanks to him, all those persons indistinctly depicted by 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 history resume their original appearance ; he seems to bring 
 them nearer to us and to make us acquainted with them ; 
 and when we have read his correspondence we can say that 
 we have just visited the whole Roman society of his time. 
 
 The end we have in view in this book is to study closely 
 a few of these personages, especially those who were most 
 involved in the great political events of that period. But 
 before beginning this study it is necessary to make a firm 
 resolution not to bring to it considerations which belong to 
 our own time. It is too much the custom now-a-days to 
 seek arms for our present struggles in the history of the 
 past. Smart allusions and ingenious parallels are most 
 successful. Perhaps Roman antiquity is so much in fashion 
 only because it gives political parties a convenient and less 
 dangerous battle-field where, under ancient costumes, pre- 
 sent-day passions may struggle. If the names of Caesar, 
 Pompey, Cato, and Brutus are quoted on all occasions, 
 these great men must not be too proud of the honour. 
 The curiosity they excite is not altogether disinterested, and 
 when they are spoken of it is almost always to point an 
 epigram or set off a flattery. I wish to avoid this mistake. 
 These illustrious dead seem to me to deserve something 
 better than to serve as instruments in the quarrels that 
 divide us, and I have sufficient respect for their memory 
 and their repose not to drag them into the arena of our 
 every-day disputes. It should never be forgotten that it is 
 an outrage to history to subject it to the changing interest 
 of parties, and that it should be, according to the fine 
 expression of Thucydides, a work made for eternity. 
 
 These precautions being taken, let us penetrate with 
 Cicero's letters into the Roman society of that great period, 
 and let us begin by studying him who offers himself so 
 gracefully to do us the honours. 
 
CICERO IN PUBLIC AND PRIVATE LIFE 
 
 CICERO S PUBLIC LIFE 
 
 Cicero's public life is usually severely judged by the 
 historians of our time. He pays the penalty of his moder- 
 ation. As this period is only studied now with political 
 intentions, a man like him who tried to avoid extremes 
 fully satisfies nobody. All parties agree in attacking him ; 
 on all sides he is laughed at or insulted. The fanatical 
 partisans of Brutus accuse him of timidity, the warmest 
 friends of Caesar call him a fool. It is in England and 
 amongst us^ that he has been least abused, and that 
 classical traditions have been more respected than else- 
 where ; the learned still persist in their old habits and their 
 old admirations, and in the midst of so many convulsions 
 criticism at least -has remained conservative. Perhaps also 
 the indulgence shown to Cicero in both countries comes 
 from the experience they have of political life. When a 
 man has lived in the practice of affairs and in the midst 
 of the working of parties, he can better understand the 
 sacrifices that the necessities of the moment, the interest 
 of his friends and the safety of his cause may demand of a 
 statesman, but he who only judges his conduct by inflexible 
 
 1 Forsyth, Life of Cicero. London, Murray, 1864. Merivale, 
 History of the Romans under the Empire, vols, i., ii. 
 
 22 
 
CICERO'S PUBLIC LIFE 23 
 
 theories thought out in solitude and not submitted to the 
 test of experience becomes more severe towards him. This, 
 no doubt, is the reason why the German scholars use him 
 so roughly. With the exception of M. Abeken,i who treats 
 him humanely, they are without pity. Drumann ^ especially 
 overlooks nothing. He has scrutinized his works and his 
 life with the minuteness and sagacity of a lawyer seeking 
 the grounds of a law-suit. He has laid bare all his corre- 
 spondence in a spirit of conscientious malevolence. He has 
 courageously resisted the charm of those confidential dis- 
 closures which makes us admire the writer and love the 
 man in spite of his weaknesses, and by opposing to each 
 other detached fragments of his letters and discourses he 
 has succeeded in drawing up a formal indictment, in which 
 nothing is omitted and which almost fills a volume. M. 
 Mommsen^ is scarcely more gentle, he is only less long. 
 Taking a general view of things he does not lose himself 
 in the details. In two of those compact pages full of facts, 
 such as he knows how to write, he has found means to 
 heap on Cicero more insults than Drumann's whole volume 
 contains. We see particularly that this pretended states- 
 man was only an egotist and a short-sighted politician, and 
 that this great writer is only made up of a'newspaper novelist 
 and a special-pleader. Here we perceive the same pen that 
 has just written down Cato a Don Quixote and Pompey 
 a corporal. As in his studies of the past he always has the 
 present in his mind, one would say that he looks for the 
 squireens of Prussia in the Roman aristocracy, and that in 
 Caesar he salutes in advance that popular despot whose 
 firm hand can alone give unity to Germany. 
 
 ' Abeken, Cicero in seinen Briefen. Hannover, 1835. 
 "^ Drumann, Geschichte Roms, etc., vols, v., vi. 
 ' Mommsen, Rdmische Geschichte, vol. iii. 
 
24 CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 How much truth is there in these fierce attacks ? What 
 confidence can we place in this boldness of revolutionary 
 criticism ? What judgment must we pronounce on Cicero's 
 political conduct ? The study of the facts will teach us. 
 
 I. 
 
 Three causes generally contribute to form a man's political 
 opinions — his birth,'his personal reflections, and his tempera- 
 ment. If I were not speaking here of sincere convictions 
 only, I would readily add a fourth, which causes more 
 conversions than the others, namely interest, that is to say, 
 that leaning one has almost in spite of oneself to think that 
 the most advantageous course is also the most just, and to 
 conform one's opinion to the position one holds or wishes 
 for. Let us try and discover what influence these causes 
 had upon Cicero's conduct and political preferences. 
 
 At Rome, for a long time past, opinions had been decided 
 by birth. In a city where traditions were so much respected 
 the ideas of parents were inherited as well as their property 
 or their name, and it was a point of honour to follow their 
 politics faithfully; but in Cicero's time these customs were 
 beginning to decay. The oldest families had no scruple in 
 failing in their hereditary engagements. At that time many 
 names which had become illustrious by defending popular 
 interests are found in the senatorial party, and the most 
 audacious demagogue of that time bore the name of Clodius. 
 Besides, Cicero would never at any time have found 
 political direction in his birth. He belonged to an un- 
 known family, he was the first of his race to engage in 
 public affairs, and the name he bore did not commit him 
 in advance to any party. In fact, he was not born at 
 
CICERO'S PUBLIC LIFE 25 
 
 Rome. His father lived in one of those little country 
 municipia of which the wits readily made fun, because 
 doubtful Latin was spoken and fine manners were not 
 well known in them, but which, none the less, were the 
 strength and honour of the Republic. That rude but brave 
 and temperate people who inhabited the neglected cities of 
 Campania, Latium, and the Sabine country, and among 
 whom the habits of rural life had preserved something of 
 the ancient virtue,^ was in reality the Roman people. That 
 which filled the streets and squares of the great city, spent 
 its time in the theatre, took part in the riots of the Forum, 
 and sold its votes in the Campus Martius, was only a 
 collection of freedmen and foreigners among whom only 
 disorder, intrigue, and corruption could be learnt. Life was 
 more honest and healthy in the municipia. The citizens 
 who inhabited them remained for the most part strangers 
 to the questions that were debated in Rome, and the 
 rumour of public affairs did not reach them. They were 
 sometimes seen on the Campus Martius or the Forum, 
 when it was a question of voting for one of their fellow- 
 citizens, or of supporting him by their presence before the 
 tribimals ; but usually they troubled themselves little about 
 exercising their rights, and stayed at home. They were 
 none the less devoted to their country, jealous of their 
 privileges, even when they made no use of them, proud of 
 their title of Roman citizens, and much attached to the 
 Republican Government that had given it them. For them 
 the Republic had preserved its prestige because, living at 
 a distance, they saw less of its weaknesses and always re- 
 called its ancient glory. Cicero's childhood was spent in 
 the midst of these rural populations, as backward in their 
 ideas as in their manners. He learnt from them to love 
 1 Pro Rose. Amer. 16. 
 
26 CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 the past more than to know the present. This was the 
 first impression and the first teaching he received from the 
 places as from the people among whom his early years were 
 passed. Later, he spoke with emotion of that humble 
 house that his father had built near the Liris, and which 
 recalled the house of the old Curius ^ by its stern simplicity. 
 I fancy that those who lived in it must have thought them- 
 selves carried back a century, and that in causing them to 
 live among the memorials of the past, it gave them the 
 inclination and taste for old-fashioned things. If Cicero 
 owed anything to his birth it was this. He may have 
 gained in his family respect for the past, love of his country, 
 and an instinctive preference for the Republican Govern- 
 ment, but he found in it no precise tradition, no positive 
 engagement with any party. When he entered political life 
 he was obliged to decide for himself, a great trial for an 
 irresolute character ! And in order to choose among so 
 many conflicting opinions it was necessary early to study 
 and reflect. 
 
 Cicero has embodied the results of his reflections and 
 studies in political writings, of which the most important. 
 The Republic, has only reached us in a very imperfect state. 
 What remains of it shows that he is here, as everywhere 
 else, a fervent disciple of the Greeks. He attaches himself 
 by preference to Plato, and his admiration for him is so 
 strong that he often almost makes us think that he is 
 content with translating him. In general Cicero does not 
 appear to care much for the glory of originality. This is 
 almost the only vanity he lacks. In his correspondence 
 there is a singular admission on this subject, which has 
 been freely used against him. In order to make his friend 
 Atticus understand how his works cost him so little trouble, 
 ' De leg. ii. i. 
 
CICERO'S PUBLIC LIFE 27 
 
 he says : " I only furnish the words, of which I have no 
 lack " ; 1 but Cicero, contrary to his usual custom, calumni- 
 ates himself here. He is ilot such a servile translator as 
 he wishes to make believe, and the difference between him 
 and Plato is great, especially in his political works. Their 
 books bear, indeed, the same title, but as soon as they are 
 opened we perceive that in reality they are quite unlike. 
 It is the characteristic of a speculative philosopher like 
 Plato to consider the absolute end in everything. If he 
 wants to form a constitution, instead of studying the people 
 to be governed by it, he begins with some principle which 
 reason lays down, and follows it up with inflexible rigour to 
 its logical consequences. Thus he succeeds in forming one 
 of those political systems where everything is bound and 
 held together, and which by their admirable unity delight 
 the mind of the sage who studies them as the regularity of 
 a fine building pleases the eye of those who look at it. Un- 
 fortunately this kind of constitution, thought out in solitude 
 and cast all of a piece, is difficult of application. When it 
 comes to be put in practice unexpected resistance crops up 
 on all sides. National traditions, character, and recollections, 
 all those social forces which have been overlooked, will not 
 submit to the severe laws imposed on them. It is then 
 perceived that these things cannot be moulded at will, 
 and since they absolutely refuse to give way, one must be 
 prepared to modify this constitution which seemed so fine 
 when it was not put into use. But here again the difficulty 
 is great. It is not easy to change anything in these compact 
 and logical systems, where everything is so skilfully arranged 
 that one piece being disturbed throws the rest; out of 
 gear. Besides, philosophers are naturally imperious and 
 absolute ; they do not like to be thwarted. .To avoid that 
 1 Ad Alt. xii. 52. 
 
28 CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 opposition that provokes them, to escape as much as 
 possible the demands of reality, they imitate the Athenian 
 of whom Aristophanes speaks, who, despairing of finding 
 here below a republic to suit him, went to look for one 
 in the clouds. They also build castles in the air, ideal 
 republics governed by imaginary laws. They frame ad- 
 mirable constitutions, but they have the defect of not 
 applying to any particular country because they are made 
 for the whole human race. 
 
 Cicero did not act thus. He knew the public he addressed ; 
 he knew that that grave and sensible race, so quick to 
 seize the practical side of things, would be ill-satisfied with 
 these fancies, and so he does not lose himself in these 
 dreams of the ideal and the absolute. He does not presume 
 to make laws for the universe ; he is thinking especially of 
 his own country and his own times, and although he appears 
 to be drawing up the plan of a perfect republic, that is to 
 say, one that cannot exist, it is plain that his eyes are fixed 
 on a constitution which does really exist. The following are 
 very nearly his political theories. Of the three forms of 
 government usually distinguished, none altogether pleases 
 him when it is isolated. I need not speak of thtf absolute 
 government of a single man, he died in order to oppose that.^ 
 
 ' It has been remarked that, in his Republic, Cicero speaks of king- 
 ship with much esteem, and even a sort of emotion which may easily 
 surprise us in a republican ■ like hira ; but he understands by it a kind of 
 primitive a.nd patriarchal government, and he demands so many virtues 
 in the king and his subjects that we see very well that he does not think 
 that this royalty was easy or even possible. We cannot therefore admit, 
 as has been done by some, that Cicero meant to announce beforehand, 
 and to approve of the revolution that Caesar accomplished some years 
 later. On the contrary, he indicates in very clear terms what he will 
 think of Caesar and his government when he attacks those tyrants who, 
 in their greed for rule, wish to govern alone, in contempt of the rights of 
 the people. " The tyrants many be clement," he adds ; " but what does 
 
CICERO'S PUBLIC LIFE 29 
 
 The other two, government by all or by a few, that is to 
 say democracy and aristocracy, do not seem to him faultless 
 either. It is difficult to be quite contented with the aris- 
 tocracy when one has not the advantage of belonging 
 to a great family. The Roman aristocracy, notwithstand- 
 ing the great qualities it displayed in the conquest and 
 government of the world, was supercilious and exclusive 
 like others. The checks it had suffered for a century, 
 its visible decline, and the feeling it must have had of 
 its approaching end, far from curing its pride, rendered it 
 more intractable. Prejudices seem to become narrower and 
 more inflexible when they have but a short time to live. We 
 know how our emigres, face to face with a victorious revolu- 
 tion, used up their last strength in foolish struggles for 
 precedence. In the same way the Roman nobility, at the 
 moment when the power was slipping from it, seemed to 
 make a point of exaggerating its defects, and of discouraging 
 by its disdain the respectable people who offered themselves 
 to defend it. Cicero felt himself drawn towards it by his 
 taste for refinement of manners and elegant pleasures ; but 
 he could not endure its insolence. Thus he always kept up 
 the ill-will of the discontented plebeian against it, even while 
 serving it. He knew very well that his birth was not over- 
 looked, and that he was called an upstart {homo novus), and 
 in return he was never tired of jesting about those fortunate 
 people who do not need to have any merit, who do not 
 require to take trouble, and to whom the highest places in 
 the republic come while they are sleeping {quibus omnia 
 populi romani beneficia dormientibus deferuntur)?- 
 
 But if aristocracy pleased him little, he liked popular 
 
 it matter whether we have an indulgent or a barbarous master ? One is 
 none the less a slave with either " (Z)« Rep. i. 33). ■ 
 ' In Verr. act. sec. v. 70. 
 
30 CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 government still less. It is the worst of all, he said, antici- 
 pating Corneille,! and in saying so he followed the opinion 
 of the greater number of the Greek philosophers, his masters, 
 who have almost all shown a great aversion to democracy. 
 They were not only kept aloof from the multitude by the 
 nature of their studies, pursued in silence and solitude, but 
 they carefully shunned it lest they should partake of its 
 errors and prejudices. Their constant care was to keep 
 themselves outside and above it. The pride that this isola- 
 tion nourished in them prevented them seeing an equal in a 
 man of the people, a stranger to those studies they were so 
 proud of. Thus the supremacy of numbers, which gives the 
 same importance to the unlearned as to the sage, was dis- 
 tasteful to them. Cicero says positively that equality under- 
 stood in this way is the greatest inequality, ipsa aequitas 
 iniquissima est? This was not the only nor even the greatest 
 reproach that the Greek philosophers, and Cicero with them, 
 threw on democracy. They thought it was naturally restless 
 and turbulent, the enemy of meditation, and that it does not 
 give that leisure to the learned and the sage which is need- 
 ful for the works they are projecting. When Cicero thought 
 of popular government, he had in his mind only wrangles 
 and faction-fights. He recalled the plebeian riots and the 
 stormy scenes of the Forum. He fancied he heard those 
 threatening complaints of the debtors and the needy which 
 had troubled the repose of the rich for three hundred years. 
 How could any one apply himself amidst this turmoil to 
 studies which require peace and quietness ? The pleasures 
 of the mind are interrupted every moment in this reign of 
 violence, which constantly drags people from the tranquillity 
 of their library into the public streets. This tumultuous and 
 unstable life was ill suited to such a iirm friend of study, and 
 
 1 De Rep. i. 26. 2 /^^^ ;_ j^ 
 
CICERO'S PUBLIC LIFE 31 
 
 if the arrogance of the nobles sometimes threw him towards 
 the popular party, dislike of violence and noise did not allow 
 him to remain in it. 
 
 What form of government then seemed to him the best ? 
 
 That which unites them all in a just equilibrium — he says so 
 
 very plainly in his Republic. " I should wish that there be in 
 
 the state a supreme and royal power, that another part be 
 
 reserved for the authority of the chief citizens, and that certain 
 
 things be left to the judgment and will of the people." ^ Now 
 
 this mixed and limited government is not, according to him, 
 
 an imaginary system, like the republic of Plato. It is in 
 
 actual existence and working ; it is that of his own country. 
 
 This opinion has been much contested. M. Mommsen 
 
 thinks it agrees as little with philosophy as with history. 
 
 Taking it strictly, it is certainly more patriotic than true. 
 
 It would be going very far to consider the Roman 
 
 constitution as a faultless model, and to close our eyes 
 
 to its defects at the very moment when it perished 
 
 through those very defects ; yet it must be admitted that, 
 
 with all its imperfections, it was one of the wisest of 
 
 ancient times, and that none, perhaps, had made so many 
 
 efforts to satisfy the two great needs of society — order and 
 
 liberty. Nor can it be denied that its chief merit consisted 
 
 in its effort to unite and reconcile the different forms of 
 
 government, notwithstanding their obvious antagonisms. 
 
 Polybius had perceived this before Cicero, and it derives this 
 
 merit from its origin and the way in which it was formed. 
 
 The constitution of Greece had almost all been the work of 
 
 one man, the Roman constitution was the work of time. 
 
 That skilful balance of powers that Polybius admired so 
 
 much, had not been contrived by one foreseeing mind. We 
 
 do not find in the early times of Rome a single legislator 
 
 1 De Rep. i. 45. 
 
32 CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 who regulated in advance the part each social element was 
 to play in the general combination ; these elements com- 
 bined by themselves. The seditions of the plebeians, the 
 desperate struggles of the tribunate with the patricians, 
 which terrified Cicero, had contributed more than all the 
 rest to complete that constitution that he admired. After a 
 struggle of nearly two hundred years, when the opposing 
 forces perceived that they were not able to destroy each 
 other, they resigned themselves to unite, and from the efforts 
 they made to agree together there resulted a government, 
 imperfect doubtless — can there be a perfect one ? — but which 
 is none the less the best, perhaps, of the ancient world. We 
 remember, of course, that Cicero did not bestow this praise 
 on the Roman constitution as it was in his time. His 
 admiration went further back. He recognized that it had been 
 profoundly modified since the time of the Gracchi, but he 
 thought that before it had undergone these alterations it was 
 irreproachable. Thus the studies of his riper age carried 
 him back to those first impressions of his childhood, and 
 strengthened his love of ancient times and his respect for 
 ancient customs. As he advanced in life all his mistakes 
 and all his misfortunes threw him back to that time. The 
 more the present was sad and the future threatening the 
 more he looked back with regret on the past. If he had 
 been asked in what time he would have wished to have been 
 born, I think he would have unhesitatingly chosen the 
 period that followed the Punic wars, that is to say, the 
 moment when Rome, proud of her victory, confident in the 
 future and dreaded by the world, caught a glimpse for the 
 first time of the beauties of Greece, and began to feel 
 the charm of letters and the arts. Cicero considers this 
 Rome's best time, and places in it by preference the scene 
 of his dialogues. He would certainly have liked to live 
 
CICERO'S PUBLIC LIFE 33 
 
 among those great men whom he causes to speak so well, in 
 the company of Scipio, Fabius, and Cato the Elder, by the 
 side of Lucilius and Terence \ and in this illustrious group, 
 the personage whose life and career would most have 
 tempted him, he that he would have wished to be, if a' man 
 could choose his time and order his destiny, was the wise 
 and learned Laelius.^ To unite, like him, a high political 
 situation to the cultivation of literature, to add to the 
 supreme authority of eloquence some military successes, 
 which the greatest preachers of pacific triumphs do not dis- 
 dain, to reach the highest dignities of the republic in quiet 
 and orderly times, and after an honourable life to enjoy a 
 respected old age — this was Cicero's ideal. What regrets 
 and sadness does he not experience, when he wakes from 
 this fine dream to the disappointments of reality, and instead 
 of living in a tranquil republic, and in free intercourse with 
 the Scipios, he must be the rival of Catiline, the victim of 
 Clodius, and the subject of Caesar. 
 
 Cicero's temperament, I think, had still more to do with 
 his political preferences than his birth or his reflections. 
 There is no more to learn about the weaknesses of his 
 character ; they have been laid bare with delight, they have 
 even been wilfully exaggerated, and since Montaigne it is 
 the usual thing to laugh at them. I need not repeat, then, 
 what has been said so often, that he was timid, hesitating, 
 and irresolute. I admit with everybody that nature made 
 him a man of letters rather than a politician, but I do 
 not think that this admission does him so much harm as 
 might be thought. The mind of the man of letters is often 
 more perfect, more comprehensive, broader than that of the 
 
 1 In that curious letter that he wrote to Pompey after his consulship 
 (adfam. v. 7), in which he seems to propose a kind of alliance, he 
 attributes to him the part of Scipio and takes for himself that of Laelius. 
 
 D 
 
34 CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 politician, and it is precisely this breadth that cramps and 
 thwarts him when he undertakes public affairs. We ask 
 ourselves what qualities are necessary for a statesman ; would 
 it not be wiser to seek those it is good for him to lack, and does 
 not political capacity show itself sometimes in its limitations 
 and exclusions ? A man of action who ought to decide 
 quickly may be hampered by the number of contradictory 
 reasons a too close and penetrating view of things may 
 present to him. A too vivid imagination, showing him 
 many plans at once, prevents him fixing on any. De- 
 termination often comes from narrowness of mind, and is 
 one of the greatest virtues in a politician. A very sensitive 
 conscience, by making him too particular in the choice of 
 his allies, would deprive him of powerful support. He must 
 distrust those generous impulses which lead him to do justice 
 even to his enemies : in the furious struggle for power a 
 man runs the risk of disarming himself and allowing an 
 advantage to be taken if he has the misfortune to be just and 
 tolerant. There is nothing that may not become a danger 
 for him, even to that natural uprightness, the first quality of 
 a statesman. If he is too sensitive to the excesses and acts 
 of injustice of his party he will serve it feebly, if his fidelity 
 is to be unshaken he must not only excuse, he should be 
 able to shut his eyes to them. These are some of the 
 imperfections of heart and mind by which he gains his 
 successes. If it be true, as I believe it is, that the politician 
 often succeeds in the government of a state through his 
 defects, and that the literary man fails by his very qualities, 
 it is paying the latter almost a compliment to say he is not 
 fit for the management of affairs. 
 
 We may say then without discrediting Cicero, that he was 
 not altogether fit for public life. The causes which made 
 him an incomparable writer did not allow him to be a good 
 
CICERO'S PUBLIC LIFE 35 
 
 politician. That openness to impressions, that delicate and 
 irritable sensitiveness, the principal sources of his literary 
 talent, did not leave him sufficiently master of his will. 
 Particular events had too great a hold On him, and a man 
 must be able to detach himself from these in order to 
 control them. His versatile and fertile imagination, by 
 drawing his attention to all sides at once, rather incapaci- 
 tated him for forming well-connected plans. He could not 
 delude himself enough about men or enterprises, and thus 
 he was subject to sudden fits of irresolution. He often 
 boasted of having foreseen and predicted the future. It 
 was certainly not in his position of augur, but by a kind of 
 troublesome perspicacity, that showed him the consequences 
 of events, and the bad ones rather than the good. On 
 the nones of December, when he executed Catiline's 
 accomplices, he did not forget the vengeance to which he 
 exposed himself, and he foresaw his exile : that day then, 
 notwithstanding the irresolution he has been reproached 
 with, he had more courage than another who in a moment 
 of excitement would not have seen the danger. One cause 
 of his inferiority and weakness was that he was moderate, 
 moderate by constitution rather than principle, that is to 
 say, with that nervous and irritable impatience which at 
 last employs violence to defend moderation. In political 
 struggles all excess can seldom be avoided. Usually parties 
 are unjust in their complaints when they are beaten, cruel 
 in their reprisals when they conquer, and ready to do 
 without scruple, as soon as they are able, what they blame 
 in their enemies. If any in the victorious party perceive 
 they are going too far and dare to say so, they inevitably 
 irritate everybody against them. They are accused of 
 timidity and vacillation, they are called weak and change- 
 able; but is this reproach well deserved? Did Cicero 
 
36 CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 contradict himself when, after defending the unfortunate 
 men whom the aristocracy oppressed under Sulla, he de- 
 fended, thirty years later, the victims of the democracy under 
 Caesar? Was he not, on the contrary, more consistent than 
 those who, after bitterly complaining of being exiled, exiled 
 their enemies as soon as they had the power? We must, 
 however, admit that if this lively sense of justice is honour- 
 able in a private man it may become dangerous in a 
 politician. Parties do not like those who refuse to join in 
 their excesses, and in the midst of general licence set up 
 the claim of alone remaining within bounds. It was Cicero's 
 misfortune not to have that firm resolution which fixes 
 a man in his opinions, and to pass from one opinion to 
 another, because he saw clearly the good and evil of all. 
 A man must be very self-reliant to try and do without 
 others. This isolation takes for granted a decision and 
 energy that were wanting in Cicero. If he had resolutely 
 attached himself to one party he would have found in it 
 traditions and fixed principles, firm friends and steady 
 leading, and need only have allowed himself to be led. On 
 the other hand, by endeavouring to walk alone he risked 
 making all the rest his enemies while he himself had no 
 clearly marked out line of conduct. A glance at the chief 
 events of his political life is sufficient to show that this was 
 the origin of a part of his misfortunes and his faults. 
 
 II. 
 
 What I have just said of Cicero's character explains his 
 early political opinions. He first appeared in the Forum 
 under the government of Sulla. The aristocracy was then 
 all-powerful, and strangely abused its power. Having been 
 
CICERO'S PUBLIC LIFE 37 
 
 conquered for a moment by Marius its reprisals had been 
 terrible. Tumultuous and indiscriminate massacres could 
 not appease its rage. Applying its cold and orderly spirit 
 to murder itself, it had invented proscription, which was only 
 another way of organizing assassination. After having thus 
 satisfied its vengeance it began to strengthen its authority. 
 It had dispossessed the richest municipia of Italy of their 
 property, excluded the knights from the tribunals, lessened 
 the privileges of the popular comitia, deprived the tribunes 
 of the right of intervention, that is, it had levelled every- 
 thing around itself. When it had broken down all resistance 
 by the death of its enemies, and concentrated all power in 
 itself, it solemnly declared that the revolution was ended, 
 that legal government would re-commence, and that "killing 
 would cease after the kalends of June." Notwithstanding 
 these pompous declarations, massacres still continued for 
 a long time. Assassins, protected by the freedmen of Sulla, 
 who shared the profits with them, went out by night into the 
 dark and crooked streets of the old city, even to the foot 
 of the Palatine. They murdered rich men returning home, 
 and under some pretext or other obtained their property 
 from the courts of justice, no one daring to complain. 
 Such was the government under which men lived at Rome 
 when Cicero pleaded his first causes. A moderate man like 
 him, to whom excess was distasteful, must have had a horror 
 of this violence. An aristocratic tyranny did not suit him 
 better than a popular tyranny. Before this abuse of 
 authority that the nobility allowed itself he felt himself 
 naturally drawn to aid the democracy, and he began his 
 career in the ranks of its defenders. 
 
 He made a bold and splendid beginning. In the midst 
 of that silent terror that the memory of the proscriptions 
 kept up, he dared to speak out, and the universal silence 
 
38 CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 gave a louder echo to his words. His poHtical importance 
 dates from the defence of Roscius. This unfortunate man, 
 whose property had been first taken, and who had then been 
 accused of murdering his father, could find no defender. 
 Cicero undertook his defence. He was young and un- 
 known, two great advantages in undertaking these bold 
 strokes, for obscurity diminishes the danger which a man 
 runs, and youth prevents the seeing it. He had no trouble 
 in proving the innocence of his client, who was accused 
 without evidence ; but this success was not enough for 
 him. It was known that one of the most powerful freed- 
 men of Sulla, the rich and voluptuous Chrysogonus, was the 
 hidden mover of the accusation. No doubt he thought 
 the dread his name inspired was a sufficient protection 
 against the boldness of the defence. Cicero dragged him 
 into the case. Traces of the dismay that seized the audience 
 when they heard this dreaded name are perceptible in his 
 speech. The accusers were dumfoundered, the multitude 
 remained silent. The young orator alone seemed tranquil 
 and self-possessed. He smiled, he joked, he dared to jeer 
 at those terrible men whom 'no one else dared look in 
 the face, because in doing so they thought of the two 
 thousand heads of knights and senators they had cut off. 
 He does not altogether respect the master himself. That 
 surname, "the happy," that his flatterers had given him gave 
 rise to a pun. " What man is happy enough," says he, " not 
 to have some rascal in his train ? " ^ This rascal is no 
 other than the all-powerful Chrysogonus. Cicero does not 
 spare him. He depicts his vulgar luxury and arrogance. 
 He shows him heaping up in his house on the Palatine all 
 the precious objects that he had taken from his victims, 
 annoying the neighbourhood with the noise of his singers and 
 ' Pro. Rose. Amer, 8. 
 
CICERO'S PUBLIC LIFE 39 
 
 musicians, " or hovering about the Forum with his hair well 
 combed and shining with unguents." ^ More serious accusa- 
 tions are mingled with these jests. The word proscriptions 
 is sometimes pronounced in this speech, the memory and 
 impression they have left is found everywhere. We feel 
 that the speaker, who has seen them, has his mind full of 
 the subject, and that the horror that he feels and that he 
 cannot master prevents him keeping silence whatever danger 
 there may be in speaking. This generous emotion shows 
 itself every moment, in spite of the reticence the neighbour- 
 hood of the proscribers imposes. Speaking of their victims, 
 he dares to say that they have been cruelly murdered, 
 though it was usual to attribute to them every kind of crime. 
 He holds up to public scorn and hatred the wretches who 
 have enriched themselves by these massacres, and with a 
 successful pun calls them "cut-heads and cut-purses."^ 
 He then demands formally that an end should be put 
 to these proceedings, of which humanity was ashamed; 
 "otherwise," he adds, "it would be better to go and live 
 among wild beasts than to remain in Rome." ^ 
 
 Cicero spoke thus at a few paces from the man who had 
 ordered the proscriptions, and in the presence of those who 
 had carried them out and profited by them. We can 
 imagine the effect his words must have produced. They 
 expressed the secret feelings of all, they relieved the public 
 conscience, forced to keep silence, and humiliated by its 
 silence. Thus the democratic party showed the most lively 
 sympathy, from that time, for the eloquent young man who 
 protested so courageously against a hateful rule. The 
 remembrance of this preserved the popular favour for him 
 so faithfully even to the time of his consulship. Every 
 time he sought an office the citizens hastened in crowds to 
 1 Pro. Rose. Amer. 46. ^ Ibid. 29. * Ibid. 52. 
 
40 CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 the Campus Martius to record their votes for him. No 
 politician of that time, and there were many more eminent 
 than he, so easily reached the highest dignities. Cato 
 suffered more than one check, Caesar and Pompey needed 
 coalitions and intrigues to succeed. Cicero is almost the 
 only one whose candidatures succeeded the first time, and 
 who never had to recur to the means usually required for 
 success. In the midst of those scandalous bargains which 
 gave honours to the richest, notwithstanding those deep- 
 rooted traditions which seemed to reserve them for the 
 noblest, Cicero, who had no claims of birth and but a small 
 fortune, always defeated all the rest. He was appointed 
 quaestor, aedile ; he obtained the urban praetorship, which 
 was the most honourable ; he attained the consulship the 
 first time he sought for it, as soon as the law permitted him 
 to aspire to it, and none of these dignities cost anything 
 either to his honour or his fortune. 
 
 It is worthy of remark, that when he was appointed praetor 
 he had not delivered any political speech. Up to the age 
 of forty years he was only what we call an advocate, and 
 had not felt the need of being anything else. Forensic 
 eloquence then led to everything ; a few brilliant successes 
 before the tribunals were sufficient to carry a man to public 
 dignities, and nobody thought of asking Cicero for any other 
 proof of his capacity for public business, when they were 
 about to commit the highest interests of his country to his 
 charge, and to invest him with the supreme authority. 
 However, if this long time passed at the bar was not 
 detrimental to his political career, I think it caused some 
 injury to his talents. All the reproaches we may address 
 to the advocate of to-day, wrongly, no doubt, were well 
 deserved by the advocate of those times. It may be said 
 of him with truth, that he took all cases indifferently, that 
 
CICERO'S PUBLIC LIFE 41 
 
 he changed his opinion with each suit, that he used all his 
 art in and made his fame by finding good reasons for support- 
 ing every sophism. The young man who devoted himself to 
 oratory in the ancient schools, never heard it said that it was 
 necessary to be convinced, and proper only to speak con- 
 scientiously. He was taught that there are different kinds 
 of cases, those which are honest and those which are not 
 so {genera causarum sunt honestum, turpe, etc.).^ It was 
 not thought necessary to add that the latter were to be 
 avoided. On the contrary, by exaggerating the merit of 
 success in these, he acquired the taste for undertaking them 
 by preference. After he had been taught how to defend 
 and save the guilty, he was, without hesitation, also taught 
 how to bring discredit on an honest man. Such was the 
 education received by the pupil of the rhetoricians, and 
 when he had quitted their schools he did not lack oppor- 
 tunity of applying their precepts. For instance, he did not 
 make the mistake of being moderate and restrained in his 
 attacks. By constraining himself to be just he would have 
 deprived himself of an element of success with that fickle 
 and passionate mob which applauded satirical portraits and 
 violent invective. He was not more prejudiced in favour 
 of truth than of justice. It was a precept of the schools to 
 invent, even in criminal causes, racy and imaginary details 
 that diverted the audience {causam mendaciunculis adsper- 
 gere).^ Cicero quotes with great commendation some of 
 these agreeable little lies which "perhaps cost the honour or 
 the life of some unfortunate people who were unlucky 
 enough to have too witty opponents, and as he had himself 
 a fertile imagination in this way, he did not stint himself in 
 having recourse to this easy means of success. Nothing was 
 more indifferent to the ancient advocate than being incon- 
 1 Ad Herenn. i. 3. "^ De Oral. ii. 59. 
 
42 CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 sistent with himself. It was said that the orator Antonius 
 never would write any of his speeches, lest some one should 
 take it into his head to compare his late with his present 
 opinion. Cicero had not these scruples. He contradicted 
 himself all his life, and was never uneasy about it. One 
 day, when he too openly stated the contrary to what he 
 had formerly upheld, as he was pressed to explain these 
 sudden changes, he answered without perturbation : " You 
 are mistaken if you think that you find the expression of 
 our personal opinions in our speeches ; they are the lan- 
 guage of the cause and the case, and not that of the man 
 and the orator." i This at least is a sincere avowal; but 
 how much do the orator and the man not lose by thus 
 suiting their language to circumstances ! They learnt to be 
 careless of putting order and consistency in their lives, to 
 dispense with sincerity in their opinions, and conviction in 
 their speech, to make the same expenditure of talent for 
 untruth as for truth, to consider only the needs of the 
 moment, and the success of the case in hand. These are 
 the lessons that the bar of that age taught Cicero. He 
 remained at it too long, and when he quitted it at forty to 
 make his first essay in political oratory, he could not shake 
 off the bad habits acquired there. 
 
 Does this mean that Cicero should be struck ofi" the list 
 of political orators ? If this name is given to every man 
 whose speech has some influence on the affairs of his 
 country, who sways the mob, or convinces honest people, 
 it seems difficult to refuse it to Cicero. He knew how 
 to talk to the multitude and make himself listened to. At 
 times he mastered it in its most furious outbursts. He 
 made it accept and even applaud opinions contrary to its 
 preferences. He seemed to drag it out of its apathy, and 
 ^ Pro Cluent. 50. 
 
CICERO'S PUBLIC LIFE 43 
 
 to call up in it for a short time an appearance of energy 
 and patriotism. He is not to blame if his successes were 
 not followed up, if after these grand triumphs of eloquence 
 brute force remained master. At least he did with his 
 words all that words could then do. I admit, however, 
 that what was wanting in his character was wanting also in 
 his political eloquence. It is nowhere sufficiently resolute, 
 decided, practical. It is too much taken up with itself, and 
 not enough with the questions it is treating. It does not 
 attack them boldly on their salient points. It is involved in 
 pompous phrases, instead of trying to speak that clear and 
 precise language which is the language of public business. 
 When we examine it closely, and begin to analyze it, we 
 find that it is chiefly composed of a good deal of rhetoric 
 and a little philosophy. All those agreeable and smart 
 arguments, all those artifices of debate, and also all that 
 ostentation of pathos that we find in it, come from rhetoric. 
 Philosophy has furnished those grand commonplaces deve- 
 loped with talent, but not always germane to the subject. 
 There is too much artifice and method about it. A concise 
 and simple statement would be more suitable to the dis- 
 cussion of affairs than these subtleties and emotions ; these 
 long philosophical tirades would be advantageously replaced 
 by a clear and judicious exposition of the orator's principles 
 and of the general ideas that regulate his conduct. Un- 
 fortunately, as I have said, Cicero preserved, on reaching 
 the rostrum, the habits he had acquired at the bar. He 
 attacks, with the arguments of an advocate, that agrarian law, 
 so honest, moderate, and wise, which was proposed by the 
 tribune Rullus. In the fourth Catilinarian Oration he had 
 to discuss this question, one of the gravest that can be 
 placed before a deliberative assembly, namely, how far is it 
 permitted to deviate from legality in order to save one's 
 
44 CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 country ? He has not even approached it. It is painful to 
 see how he hangs back from it, how he flies from and avoids 
 it, to develop small reasons and lose himself in a vulgar 
 pathos. The grave and serious kind of eloquence evidently 
 was not that which Cicero preferred, and in which he felt 
 most at ease. If you wish to know tlie real tendency of 
 his talents, read, immediately after the fourth Catilinarian 
 Oration, the speech for Muraena, delivered at the same 
 time. There is none more agreeable in the collection of 
 his speeches, and we wonder how a man who was consul, 
 and who had then so many affairs on his hands, found his 
 mind sufficiently free to joke with so much ease and point ; 
 the truth is, there he was in his element. Accordingly, 
 although he was consul or consular, he returned to the bar 
 as oflen as he could. It was to oblige his friends, he said. I 
 think that he wished still more to please himself; he appears 
 happy, and his animation and wit expand so freely, when 
 he has some agreeable and lively case to plead. Not only 
 did he never miss an opportunity of appearing before 
 the judges, but as much as possible he threw his 
 political discourses into the form of ordinary pleadings. 
 Everything turned into personal questions with him. The 
 discussion of ideas usually leaves him cold. He had to 
 contend against some one in order to let us see him at his 
 best. The finest speeches he delivered in the Forum or the 
 senate are eulogies or invectives. In them he is unrivalled ; 
 in them, according to one of his expressions, his eloquence 
 rises and triumphs ; but however fine invectives and eulogies 
 may be, they are not altogether our ideal of political 
 eloquence, and we demand something else of it now-a-days. 
 All that can be said in justification of Cicero's speeches is, 
 that they were perfectly appropriate to his time, and that 
 their character is explained by the circumstances in which 
 
CICERO'S PUBLIC LIFE 45 
 
 they were delivered. Eloquence did not then guide the 
 state as in the best times of the republic. Other influences 
 had replaced it ; in the elections, money and the intrigues 
 of the candidates, in out-door discussions, the occult and 
 terrible power of the popular societies, and above all the 
 army, which, since Sulla, raised or overthrew every govern- 
 ment. Eloquence feels itself powerless in the midst of 
 these forces which overpower it. How can it still preserve 
 the commanding accent, the imperious and resolute tone of 
 one who knows his power ? Need it appeal to reason and 
 logic, and try and force itself upon men's convictions by 
 a close and forcible argument, when it knows that the 
 questions it is treating are decided otherwise ? ^. Mommsen 
 maliciously remarks, that in most ^f his great political 
 speeches Cicero pleads causes already victorious. When 
 he published the Verrine Orations, the laws of Sulla on the 
 composition of the tribunals had just been abolished. He 
 well knew that Catiline had decided to leave Rome when 
 he pronounced the first Catilinarian Oration, in which he so 
 feelingly adjures him to go away. The second Philippic, 
 which seems so bold when „we think of it as spoken to 
 the face of the all-powerful Antony, was only made public 
 at the moment when Antony was flying to Cisalpine Gaul. 
 Of what use then were all these fine speeches ? They did 
 not cause decisions to be taken, since these decisions were 
 already taken ; but they caused them to be accepted by the 
 multitude, they stirred public opinion and excited it in their 
 favour : this was something. It was necessary to accept 
 the facts of the situation; speech no longer governed, 
 eloquence could no longer hope to direct events, but it 
 acted on them indirectly, it tried to produce those great 
 movements of opinion that prepare or complete them ; 
 "it does not secure votes and acts, it arouses the 
 
46 CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 emotions." i If this moral effect is the only end it had in 
 view at the time, -Cicero's eloquence, by its copiousness and 
 splendour, by its brilliancy and pathos, was well calculated 
 to attain it. 
 
 At first he had put his eloquence at the service of the 
 popular party ; we have seen that it was in the ranks of this 
 party that he made his first political appearance j but 
 although he faithfully served it for seventeen years, I am 
 inclined to think that he did not always do so heartily. 
 The excesses of the aristocratic government threw him 
 towards democracy, but he must have found democracy not 
 much wiser, especially when it was victorious. It sometimes 
 gave him terrible clients to defend. He had to plead the 
 cause of factious and seditious persons who were always 
 troubling the public peace. One day he even pleaded, or 
 was on the point of pleading, for Catiline. It is probable 
 that all this was painful to him, and that the violent excesses 
 of democracy tempted him more than once to separate from 
 it. Unfortunately he did not know where to go if he left it, 
 and if the plebeians offended him by their violence, the 
 aristocracy, by its arrogance and prejudices, did not any 
 more attract him. Since in existing parties he did not find 
 any which exactly corresponded to his convictions, and 
 which altogether suited his disposition, he had no other 
 resource than to form one for himself. This is what he 
 
 ^ I here employ the phrases of M. Havet, who has set this idea 
 in a clear light in one of the too scanty writings he has published on 
 Cicero. Speaking of this, we may be permitted to regret that M. Berger 
 and he have not given to the public the excellent series of lectures 
 which they delivered at the College de France and at the Sorbonne, of 
 wliich Cicero was so often the subject. If they had acceded to the 
 wishes of their auditors, and the entreaties of all friends of letters, 
 France would have nothing to envy Germany on this important 
 question. 
 
CICERO'S PUBLIC LIFE 47 
 
 tried to do. When he felt that the brilliancy of his 
 eloquence, the offices he had filled, the popularity that 
 surrounded him, made him an important person, in order to 
 assure his future, to take a higher and more permanent 
 position in the republic, to free himself from the require- 
 ments of his former protectors, in order not to be forced to 
 stretch out his hand to his old enemies, he sought to create 
 a new party, composed of the moderate men of all parties, 
 and of which he was to be the head. But he very well 
 understood that he could not create this party in a 
 moment and produce it from nothing. It was necessary 
 first to find a nucleus around which the new recruits that he 
 expected should group themselves. He thought he had 
 found it in that class of citizens to which he belonged by 
 his birth, and who were called the knights. 
 
 Rome always lacked what we now call the middle and 
 citizen class. In proportion as the small farmers left their 
 friends to go and live in the city, and " as those hands which 
 had worked at the corn and the vine were only occupied 
 in applauding at the- theatre and the circus," ^ the gap 
 became greater between the opulent aristocracy which pos- 
 sessed almost all the public wealth, and that indigent and 
 famished people that was continually recruited from the 
 slaves. The sole intermediaries [were the knights. This 
 name, at the time we are considering, was not only used to 
 describe the citizens to whom the state gave a horse {eguites 
 equo publico), and who voted separately in the elections ; it 
 was also given to all those who possessed the equestrian 
 income qualification, that is to say, those whose fortune 
 exceeded 400,000 sesterces (;^32bo). We may well believe 
 that the nobility behaved haughtily to these obscure plebeians 
 whom chance or economy had enriched ; it kept these 
 ' Varro, De re rust. ii. i. 
 
CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 parvenus at a distance j dealt out its disdain to them as 
 liberally as to the poor people of the plebs, and obstinately 
 closed the entrance to public dignities to them. When 
 Cicero was appointed consul it was thirty years since a new^ 
 man, whether knight or plebeian, had attained the consulship. 
 Removed from political life by the jealousy of the great 
 nobles, the knights were obliged to turn their energies 
 elsewhere. Instead of wasting time in useless candidatures, 
 they busied themselves in making their fortunes. When 
 Rome had conquered the world, it was the knights 
 especially who profited by these conquests. They formed 
 an industrious and enlightened class, they were already 
 in easy circumstances, and able to make loans, and thought 
 they could speculate in the conquered countries for their 
 own profit. Penetrating wherever the Roman arms were 
 carried, they became merchants, bankers, farmers of the 
 taxes, and amassed immense riches. As Rome was no longer 
 the Rome of the Curii and the Cincinnati, and dictators 
 were no longer taken from the plough, their wealth gave 
 them consideration and importance. From that time they 
 were spoken of with more respect. The Gracchi, who 
 wished to make them allies in the struggle they were 
 waging with the aristocracy, caused it to be decided that 
 the judges should be taken from their ranks. Cicero went 
 further ; he tried to make them the foundation of the great 
 moderate party he wished to create. He knew that he 
 could count on their devotedness. He belonged to them 
 by birth ; he had shed over them the splendour that 
 surrounded his namej he had never neglected to defend 
 their interests before the tribunals or in the senate. He 
 also reckoned that they would be grateful to him for wishing 
 to augment their importance and call them to a great 
 political future. 
 
CICERO'S PUBLIC LIFE 49 
 
 All these combinations of Cicero seemed at first to 
 succeed very happily; but, to tell the truth, the merit of 
 this success was chiefly due to circumstances. This great 
 coalition of the moderates upon which he congratulated 
 himself as his finest work, almost succeeded under the 
 influence of fear. A social revolution seemed imminent. 
 The dregs of all the old parties, wretched plebeians and 
 ruined nobles, old soldiers of Marius, and proscribers of 
 Sulla, had united under the leadership of a bold and able 
 chief, who promised them a new distribution of public 
 wealth. The existence of this party compelled those whom 
 it threatened to unite also in order to defend themselves. 
 Fear was more efficacious than the finest speeches would 
 have been, and in this sense we may say that Cicero was 
 perhaps more indebted for this union which he regarded as 
 the main point of his policy to Catiline rather than to him- 
 self. Community of interests, then, brought about, at leastf 
 for a time, a reconciliation of the aims of various classes./ 
 The richest, and consequently the most seriously endangered, 
 namely the knights, were naturally the soul of the new 
 party. By their side the honest plebeians who did not wish 
 political reforms to be exaggerated took their stand, as well 
 as those nobles whose threatened pleasures drew them from 
 their apathy, who would have allowed the republic to perish 
 without defending it, but who did not wish their lampreys 
 and fish-ponds touched. The new party had not to look 
 about long for a head. Pompey was in Asia, Caesar and 
 Crassus secretly favoured the conspiracy. Besides these 
 there was no greater name than Cicero's. This explains 
 that great wave of public opinion which carried him into the 
 consulship. His election was almost a triumph. I shall t 
 say nothing of his consulship, of which he has had the 
 misfortune to speak too much himself. I do not wish to 1 
 
50 CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 underrate the victory that he gained over Catiline and 
 his accomplices. The danger was serious ; even his enemy 
 Sallust affirms it. Behind the plot were hidden ambitious 
 . politicians ready to profit by events. Caesar knew well 
 that the reign of anarchy could not last long. After some 
 pillaging and massacres, Rome would have recovered from 
 her surprise, and honest folks, being driven to activity by 
 despair, would have again got the upper hand. Only it is 
 probable that then one of those reactions that usually follow 
 great anarchy would have taken place. The remembrance 
 of the ills from which they had escaped with such difficulty 
 would have disposed many people to sacrifice the liberty 
 which exposed them to so many perils, and Caesar held 
 himself ready to offer them the sovereign remedy of absolute 
 power. . By cutting the evil at the root, by surprising and 
 punishing the conspiracy before it broke out, Cicero perhaps 
 delayed the advent of monarchical government at Rome for 
 fifteen years. He was not wrong, then, in boasting of the 
 services he rendered at that time to his country's liberty, 
 and we must acknowledge, with Seneca, that if he has 
 praised his consulship without measure he has not done so 
 without reason.! 
 
 Coalitions of this kind, unfortunately, seldom long sur- 
 vive the circumstances that give rise to them. When the 
 interests that a common danger had united began to feel 
 themselves secure, they recommenced their old quarrels. 
 The plebeians, who were no longer afraid, felt their old 
 animosity against the nobility revive. The nobles began 
 again to envy the wealth of the knights. As to the 
 knights, they had none of those qualities that were neces- 
 sary to make them the soul of a political party, as Cicero 
 had hoped. They were more occupied with their private 
 
 1 De brevit. viice,\^. Non sine causa, sed sine fine laudatus. 
 
CICERO'S PUBLIC LIFE 51 
 
 affairs than with those of the republic. They had not the 
 strength of numbers, Uke the plebeians, and were wanting in 
 those great traditions of government that maintained so long 
 the authority of the nobiUty. Their only guiding principle 
 was that instinct usual with men of large fortunes, which 
 led them to prefer order to liberty. They sought, before all 
 things, a strong power which could defend them, and Caesar 
 had in the end no more devoted followers than they. In 
 this break-up of his party, Cicero, who could not stand 
 alone, asked himself on which side he ought to place 
 himself. The fright that Catiline had given him, the pre- 
 sence of Caesar and Crassus in the ranks of the democracy, 
 prevented his return to that party, and he finally attached 
 himself to the nobility, notwithstanding his repugnance. 
 From the date of his consulship he resolutely turned iowards 
 this party. We know how the democracy avenged itself for 
 what it considered a betrayal. Three years after it con- 
 demned its old head, now become its enemy, to exile, and 
 only consented to recall him to cast him at the feet of 
 Caesar and Pompey, whose union had made them masters 
 of Rome.^ 
 
 III. 
 
 The gravest political crisis that Cicero passed through, 
 after the great struggles of his consulship, was certainly that 
 which terminated in the fall of the Roman republic at 
 Pharsalia. We know that he did not wiUingly engage in 
 this terrible conflict, of which he foresaw the issue, and that 
 he hesitated for nearly a year before deciding on his course. 
 
 1 On the exile of Cicero, and the policy that he followed after his 
 return, see the study on Caesar and Cicero, Part I. 
 
52 CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 It is not surprising that he hesitated so long. He was no 
 longer young and obscure as when he pleaded for Roscius. 
 He had a high position and an illustrious name that he 
 did not wish to compromise, and a man may be allowed 
 to reflect before he risks fortune, glory, and perchance life 
 on a single cast. Besides, the question was not so simple 
 nor the right so clear as they seem at first sight. Lucan, 
 whose sympathies are not doubtful, yet said that it could 
 not be known on which side justice lay, and this ob- 
 scurity does not seem to be altogether dissipated, since, 
 after eighteen centuries of discussion, posterity has not yet 
 succeeded in coming to an agreement. It is curious that, 
 among us, in the seventeenth century, at the height of 
 monarchical government, the learned all pronounced against 
 Caesar without hesitation. Magistrates of the high courts, 
 men cautious and moderate by their offices and character, 
 who approached the king and were not sparing of flattery, 
 took the liberty of being Pompeians and even furious Pom- 
 peians in private. "The First President," says Guy-Patin, 
 "is so much on Pompey's side, that one day he expressed 
 his joy that I was so, I having said to him, in his fine garden 
 at Baville, that if I had been in the senate when Julius 
 Caesar was killed, I would have given him the twenty-fourth 
 stab." On the contrary, it is in our own days, in a demo- 
 cratic epoch, after the French Revolution, and in the name 
 of the revolution and the democracy, that the side of Caesar 
 has been upheld with the greatest success, and that the 
 benefit humanity has reaped from his victory has been set 
 in its clearest light. 
 
 I have no intention to re-open this debate, it is too fertile 
 in stormy discussions. I only wish here to deal with so 
 much of it as is indispensable to explain Cicero's political 
 life. There are, I think, two very different ways of looking 
 
CICERO'S PUBLIC LIFE 53 
 
 at the question : our own first, namely, that of people un- 
 concerned in these quarrels of a former age, who approach 
 them as historians or philosophers, after time has cooled 
 them, who judge them less by their causes than by their 
 results, and who ask themselves, above all, what good or 
 evil they have done in the world ; then that of contempor- 
 aries, who judge of them with their passions and prejudices, 
 according to the ideas of their time, in their relation to 
 themselves, and without knowing their remote consequences. 
 I am going to place myself solely at this latter point of view, 
 although the other seems to me grander and more profitable ; 
 but as my only design is to ask from Cicero an explanation 
 of his political actions, and as one cannot reasonably require 
 of him that he should have divined the future, I shall con- 
 fine myself to showing how the question was stated in his 
 time, what reasons were alleged on both sides, and in what 
 manner it was natural for a wise man who loved his country 
 to appreciate those reasons. Let us forget, then, the eighteen 
 centuries that separate us from these events, let us suppose 
 ourselves at Formiae or Tusculum during those long days of 
 anxiety and uncertainty that Cicero passed there, and let us 
 hear him discuss, with Atticus or Curio, the reasons that the 
 two parties urged to draw him into their ranks. 
 
 What shows plainly that the judgment of contemporaries 
 on the events which pass before them is not the same as 
 that of posterity is, that the friends of Caesar, when they 
 wished to gain over Cicero, did not employ the argument 
 that seems the best to us. The chief reason that is appealed 
 to now to justify Caesar's victory is that, on the whole, if by 
 it Rome lost some of her privileges, it was for the advantage 
 of the rest of the world that she was despoiled. What does 
 it matter that a few thousand men, who did not make a very 
 good use of their political liberty, were deprived of it, if by 
 
54 ■ CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 the same stroke almost the entire world was rescued from 
 pillage, slavery, and ruin ? It is certain that the provinces 
 and their inhabitants, so roughly treated by the pro-consuls 
 of the republic, found themselves better off under the regime 
 inaugurated by Caesar. His army was open to all foreigners ; 
 he had with him Germans, Gauls, and Spaniards. They 
 helped him to conquer, and naturally profited by his victory : 
 and this was, without his wishing it perhaps, the revenge of 
 the conquered nations. ■ These nations were not anxious to 
 recover their independence ; they had lost the taste for it with 
 their defeat. Their ambition was quite the reverse : they 
 wished to be allowed to become Romans. Up till then, 
 however, that proud and greedy aristocracy, who held 
 power, and who meant to use the human race for the 
 benefit of their pleasures or their grandeur, had obstinately 
 refused to raise them to a level with themselves, no doubt 
 in order to preserve the right of treating them according to 
 their caprice. In overthrowing the aristocracy, Caesar over- 
 threw the barrier that closed Rome to the rest of the nations. 
 The empire made the entire world Roman ; it reconciled, 
 says a poet, and blended under one name, all the nations of 
 the universe. These are surely great things, and it does not 
 become us to forget them, us the sons of the vanquished, called 
 by Caesar to partake in his victory. But who, in Cicero's 
 time, thought it would be thus ? who could foresee and indi- 
 cate these remote consequences? The question did not 
 present itself then as it does to us who study it from a dis- 
 tance. Caesar does not anywhere allege the interest of the 
 conquered among the reasons he gives for his enterprise. 
 The senate never claimed to be the representative of the 
 Roman nationality, threatened by an invasion of the barba- 
 rians, and it does not appear that the provinces rose in 
 favour of him who came to defend them ; on the contrary. 
 
CICERO'S PUBLIC LIFE 55 
 
 they were almost equally divided between the two rivals. If 
 the West fought on Caesar's side, all the East repaired to 
 Pompey's camp, which proves that when the struggle com- 
 menced its consequences were unknown even to those who 
 were to profit by them, and whose interest should have 
 made them clear-sighted. Besides, even if Cicero had sus- 
 pected the benefits that the world was going to draw from 
 Caesar's triumph, can we think that this reason would have 
 sufficed to decide him ? He was not one of those whose love 
 for the whole of humanity excuses them from serving their 
 country. He would have resigned himself with difficulty to 
 the sacrifice of his liberty, under the pretence that this 
 sacrifice would profit the Gauls, the Britons, and the 
 Sarmatians. No doubt he was not indifferent to the interest 
 of the world, but that of Rome touched him closer. His 
 temple was gentle and humane, he had written in beautiful 
 works that all nations are only one and the same family, he 
 had made himself loved in the province he had governed ; 
 nevertheless, when Caesar opened the city and even the 
 senate to the strangers who accompanied him, he showed 
 himself very discontented, and attacked these barbarians 
 with his most cruel raillery. He saw plainly that those 
 Spaniards and Gauls who were walking proudly about the 
 Forum were triumphing over Rome. His Roman pride re- 
 volted at this sight, and I see no reason to blame him for it. 
 If he could divine or even catch a glimpse of the general 
 emancipation of the conquered nations which was preparing, 
 he understood also that this emancipation would bring with 
 it the loss of the original, distinct, and independent existence 
 of his country. It was natural that a Roman should not 
 wish to pay this price even for the prosperity of the world. 
 
 Putting aside this reason, another, specious if not true, 
 was much used to entice the irresolute. They were told 
 
S6 CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 that the republic and liberty were not interested in the war, 
 that it was simply a struggle between two ambitious men 
 who were contending for power. In this assertion there 
 was a certain amount of truth capable of misleading 
 thoughtless minds. Personal questions certainly held a 
 large place in this contest. The soldiers of Caesar fought 
 solely for him, and Pompey had in his suite many friends 
 and creatures whom thirty years of prosperity and power 
 had gained for him. Cicero himself gives us to understand, 
 several times, that it was his old friendship for Pompey 
 that led him into his camp. " It is to him and to him alone 
 that I sacrifice myself," said he, when he was preparing to 
 leave Italy.^ There are moments in which he seems to take 
 pleasure in limiting the subject of this quarrel he is about to 
 engage in, and when, writing to his friends, he repeats to them 
 what Caesar's partisans said — " It is a conflict of ambition, 
 regnandi contentio est." ^ But we must be careful when 
 reading his correspondence of this period, and must read 
 it with caution. Never was he more irresolute. He 
 changes his opinion every day, he attacks and defends all 
 parties, so that by skilfully putting together all the words 
 let fall in this discontent and uncertainty, one may find in 
 his letters grounds for charges against everybody. These 
 are only the sallies of a restless and frightened mind, of 
 which we must not make too much use either against others 
 or against himself. Here, for instance, when he asserts that 
 the republic has nothing to do in the contest, he does not 
 say what he really thinks. It is only one of those pretexts 
 that he invents to justify his hesitation in his friends' 
 eyes and his own. So rare is it to be quite sincere, I do 
 not say with others only but with oneself! We are so 
 ingenious in proving to ourselves that we have a thousand 
 ^ Ad Ait Ax. 1. '' Ibid. -x.. T. 
 
CICERO'S PUBLIC LIFE 57 
 
 reasons for doing what we do without reason, or through 
 interest or caprice ! But when Cicero wishes to be frank, 
 when he has no motive to delude himself or deceive others, 
 he speaks in another manner. Then the cause of Pompey 
 becomes really that of justice and right, that of honest men 
 and of liberty. Without doubt, Pompey had rendered very 
 indifferent services to the republic before being led by 
 circumstances to defend it. He could not be trusted 
 entirely, and his ambition was to be feared. In his camp 
 he affected the airs of a sovereign ; he had his flatterers 
 and his ministers. " He is a little Sulla," said Cicero, 
 " who dreams also of proscriptions, sullaturit, proscripturit." ^ 
 The republican party would certainly have taken another 
 defender if it had been free to choose ; but at the time 
 when Caesar assembled his troops, this party, which had 
 neither soldiers nor generals, was really forced to accept 
 Pompey's aid. It accepted it as that of an ally whom one 
 distrusts and watches, who, perhaps, will become an enemy 
 after the victory, but with whom one cannot dispense during 
 the fight. Besides, although Pompey might not altogether 
 secure liberty, it was known that it ran fewer risks with him 
 than with Caesar. He was ambitious doubtless, but more > 
 ambitious of honours than of power. Twice he had been 
 seen to arrive at the gates of Rome with an army. The 
 democracy called him, to make himself king, he had only 
 to will it, and twice he had disbanded his troops and 
 laid down the fasces. He had been made sole consul, that 
 is to say, almost dictator, and at the end of six months he 
 had voluntarily taken a colleague. These precedents made 
 sincere republicans believe that after the victory he would 
 content himself with sonorous titles and pompous eulogies, 
 and that his services would be repaid, without danger to 
 ^ Ad Alt. ix. 10. 
 
58 CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 any one, with laurels and the purple. In any case, if he 
 had demanded something else, we may be certain that he 
 would have been refused, and that he would have found 
 adversaries in the greater number of those who had become 
 his allies. There were in his camp many persons who were 
 not his friends, and who cannot be suspected of having 
 taken arms to win a throne for him. Cato distrusted him, 
 and had always opposed him. Brutus, whose father he 
 had killed, hated him. The aristocracy did not pardon 
 him for having restored the power of the tribunes, and for 
 having united with Caesar against it. Is it likely that all 
 these eminent persons, experienced in affairs, were the 
 dupes of this indifferent politician who never deceived 
 anybody, and that, without knowing it, they worked for him 
 alone? or must we admit, which is still less likely, that they 
 knew it, and that they voluntarily abandoned their country, 
 risked their fortunes, and gave their lives to serve the 
 interests and the ambition of a man whom they did not 
 love ? Assuredly, for them, something else was in question. 
 When they went over sea, when they decided, notwith- 
 standing their repugnance, to begin a civil war, when they 
 came to put themselves under the orders of a general 
 against whom they had so many reasons for ill-will, they 
 did not intend to intervene solely in a personal quarrel, but 
 to come to the help of the republic and of that liberty 
 which were threatened. " But here," people say, " you are 
 deceived again. These names, liberty and republic, delude 
 you. It was not liberty that was defended in Pompey's 
 camp, it was the oppression of the people by a caste. 
 They wished to maintain the privileges of a burdensome 
 and unjust aristocracy. They fought to preserve for it the 
 right to oppress the plebs, and to crush the world." At 
 that rate the friends of liberty ought to keep for Caesar the 
 
CICERO'S PUBLIC LIFE 59 
 
 sympathies they generally accord to Pompey, for he is the 
 liberal and the democrat, the man of the people, the successor 
 of the Gracchi and of Marius. This is indeed the part he 
 assumed from the day when, almost a child, he had braved 
 Sulla. Praetor and consul, he had appeared to serve the 
 popular cause with devotion, and at the moment when he 
 marched on Rome, abandoned by the senate, he still said, 
 " I come to dehver the Roman people from a faction that 
 oppresses it." ^ 
 
 How much truth is there in this pretence that he makes 
 of being the defender of the democracy ? What ought to 
 be thought of it, I do not say by a patrician, who naturally 
 thought much ill of the people, but by an enemy of the 
 nobility, by a new man like Cicero ? Whatever anger the 
 disdain of the aristocracy had caused to Cicero, whatever 
 impatience he had felt at always finding in his way, in his 
 candidatures, one of those nobles toyhom "honours came 
 while they slept" I do not find that his ill-humour had 
 ever led him to pretend that the people was oppressed j^ 
 and I suppose that when it was asserted before him that 
 Caesar took up arms to restore him his liberty, he asked 
 how long it was since he had lost it, and what new privi- 
 leges they wished to add to those he already possessed? 
 He called to mind that the people possessed a legal 
 organization, had their own magistrates to whom they 
 appealed from the decisions of others, magistrates inviolable 
 and sacred, whom the law armed with the enormous power 
 of staying the action of the government by their interference, 
 and of interrupting poUtical life ; that they had the liberty of 
 
 ' De bello civ. i. 22. 
 
 2 He even seems to say several times that the position of the 
 plebeians in the republic was, on the whole, better than that of the 
 patricians {Pro Cluent. 40. Pro dome sua, 14). 
 
6o CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 speech and of the rostrum, the right of voting, in which 
 they trafficked for a living, and finally, free access to all 
 grades of the magistracy, and he had only to cite his own 
 case to demonstrate that it was possible for a man without 
 birth and almost without fortune to attain even the consul- 
 ship. Such success in truth was rare. The equality laid 
 down in the law disappeared in practice. The consular 
 records of that period contain scarcely any but illustrious 
 names. A few great families seem to have established 
 themselves in the highest dignities of the state; they 
 guarded the avenues to them, and allowed no one to 
 approach; but was it necessary, in order to break down 
 the obstacles that the cleverness of a few ambitious men 
 opposed to the regular working of the institutions, to destroy 
 these institutions themselves ? was the evil so great that it 
 was necessary to have recourse to the radical remedy of 
 absolute power ? Was it impossible to think that it would 
 be more surely cured by liberty than by despotism ? Had 
 it not been seen by recent examples that a strong current 
 of popular opinion was sufficient to overturn all this 
 aristocratic resistance? The laws gave the people the 
 means of recovering their influence if they willed it 
 energetically. With the liberty of voting and of speaking 
 in the public assembly, with the intervention of the tribunes 
 and the invincible strength of numbers, they must always 
 end in being masters. It was their own fault if they left 
 the power to others, and they deserved the degradation in 
 which the nobility held them, since they made no effort to 
 free themselves. Cicero had small esteem for the common 
 people of his time'; he thought them careless and apathetic 
 by nature. "They demand nothing," said he, "they desire 
 nothing";! and every time he saw them stirring in the 
 ' Pro Sext. 49. 
 
CICERO'S PUBLIC LIFE 6i 
 
 Forum he suspected that the liberality of some ambitious 
 men had worked this miracle. He was not, therefore, led 
 to think it necessary to accord them new rights when he 
 saw them use their ancient rights so little or so ill, and so 
 he did not regard the pretext put forth by Caesar for 
 taking up arms as serious. He never consented to look 
 upon him as the successor of the Gracchi coming to 
 emancipate the oppressed plebs; the war which was 
 preparing never seemed to him to be the renewal of the 
 ancient struggles between the people and the aristocracy, of 
 which Roman history is full. In fact, an assembly of ruined 
 nobles, like Dolabella, Antony, and Curio, marching under 
 the leadership of him who boasted of being the son of the 
 gods and of kings, little deserved the name of the popular 
 party, and there was something else at stake than the 
 defence of the privileges of birth in a camp to which so many 
 knights and plebeians had repaired, and which reckoned 
 among its chiefs Varro, Cicero, and Cato, that is to say, 
 two burgesses of small fortune of Arpinum and Reate, and 
 the descendant of the peasant of Tusculum. 
 
 Caesar, however, does not seem to have been very much 
 prepossessed with this part of champion of the democracy. 
 We do not find, on reading his memoirs, that he speaks 
 very much of the people's interests. The phrase just 
 quoted is almost the only, one in which they are mentioned. 
 Elsewhere he is more frank. At the beginning of the civil 
 Wfar, when he set forth his reasons for commencing it, 
 he complained that he was refused the consulship, that his 
 province was taken from him, that he was torn from his 
 army ; he says not a word of the people, of their un- 
 recognized rights, of their crushed liberty. This was, 
 however, the moment to speak of them in order to justify 
 an enterprise that so many people, and those the most 
 
62 CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 honest, condemned. What did he demand in the final 
 conditions he laid before the senate before marching on 
 Rome ? His consulship, his army, his province ; he de- 
 fended his personal interests, he bargained- for himself, it 
 never came into his mind to demand any guarantee for that 
 people whose defender he called himself. Around him, in 
 his camp, one thought no more of the people than they did 
 of themselves. His best friends, his bravest generals, had 
 no pretension to be reformers or democrats. They did not 
 think, in following him, that they were going to give liberty 
 to their fellow-citizens ; they wished to avenge their out- 
 raged chief,* and to win power for him. "We are the 
 soldiers of Caesar," said they with Curio.i They had no 
 other title, they knew no other name. When some one 
 came to speak to those old centurions who had seen 
 Germany and Britain, who had taken Alesia and Gergovia, 
 of abandoning Caesar and passing over to the side of the 
 laws and the republic, they did not reply that they were 
 defending the people and their rights. "We," said they, 
 "shall we quit our general who has given all of us our 
 ranks, shall we take arms against an army in which we 
 have served and been victorious for thirty-six years? We 
 will never do it ! " ^ These men were no longer citizens 
 but soldiers. After thirty-six years of victories, they had 
 lost the traditions of civil life and the taste for it ; the rights 
 of the people had become indifferent to them, and for them 
 glory took the place of liberty. Cicero and his friends 
 thought that these surroundings were not those of a popular 
 chief who came to restore liberty to his fellow-citizens, but 
 those of an ambitious man who came to establish absolute 
 power by arms, and they were not mistaken. Caesar's 
 conduct after the war proves this more than all the rest. 
 ' De bello afric. 45. * De bello civ. ii. 32. 
 
CICERO'S PUBLIC LIFE 63 
 
 How did he use his victory? What benefits did he 
 confer on the people whose interests he pretended to 
 defend? I do not speak of what he was able to do for 
 their comfort and their pleasures, the sumptuous feasts, 
 the public meals that he gave, the corn and oil that he so 
 generously distributed to the poorest, the 400 sesterces 
 {£z 4-f-) that he paid each citizen on the day of his 
 triumph : if these alms satisfied the plebeians of that time, 
 if they consented to sacrifice their liberty at that price, I 
 pardon Cicero for not having more esteem for them, and for 
 not putting himself on their side ; but if they demanded 
 something else, if they wished for a more complete in- 
 dependence, for a larger share in the affairs of their country, 
 for new political rights, they did not obtain them, and 
 Caesar's victory, notwithstanding his promises, rendered 
 them neither freer nor more powerful. Caesar humiliated 
 the aristocracy, but only for his own advantage. He took 
 the executive power out of the hands of the senate, but 
 only to put it in his own. He established equality between 
 all the orders, but it was an equality of servitude, and all 
 were henceforth reduced to the same level of obedience. 
 
 I know that after he had silenced the public speakers, 
 deprived the people of the right of voting, and united in 
 himself all public authority, the senate that he had 
 appointed, having exhausted flattery, solemnly awarded to 
 him the name of Liberator, and voted the erection of a 
 Temple of Liberty. If it is against this liberty that Cicero 
 and his friends are accused of having taken up arms, I do not 
 think it is worth the trouble to defend them from this charge. 
 
 Let us call things by their real name. It was for himself 
 and not for the people that Caesar worked, and Cicero, in 
 opposing him, thought he was defending the republic and 
 not the privileges of the aristocracy. 
 
CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 But did this republic deserve to be defended? Was 
 there any hope of preserving it ? Was it not manifest that 
 its ruin was inevitable? This is the greatest charge 
 that is made against those who followed Pompey's party. 
 I admit it is not easy to answer it. The evil that Rome 
 suffered, and which showed itself in those disorders and 
 that violence of which Cicero's letters give us such a sad 
 picture, was not of a kind to be averted by a few wise 
 reforms. It was ancient and profound. It became worse 
 every day without any law being able to prevent or arrest 
 it. Could one hope to cure it with those slight changes that 
 the boldest proposed ? Of what use was it to diminish, 
 as was wished, the privileges of the aristocracy and to 
 augment the rights of the plebeians? The sources 
 of public life themselves were seriously impaired. The 
 evil came from the way in which the citizenship was 
 acquired. 
 
 For a long time Rome had drawn her strength from the 
 country people. It was from the rustic tribes, the most 
 honoured of all, that those valiant soldiers who had con- 
 quered Italy and subdued Carthage had come; but this 
 agricultural and warlike people, who had so well defended 
 the republic, could not defend themselves against the 
 encroachments of the great estates. Enclosed little by Uttle 
 by those immense domains where cultivation is easiest, the 
 poor peasant had for a long time struggled against misery 
 and the usurers ; then, discouraged in the struggle, he had 
 ended by selling his field to his rich neighbour, who coveted 
 it to round off his estate. He had tried then to become a 
 tenant-farmer, a metayer, a hired labourer on the property 
 where he had been for so long the master, but there he met 
 with the competition of the slave, a more frugal worker, 
 who did not stand out for his wages, who did not make 
 
CICERffS PUBLIC LIFE 65 
 
 terms, who might be treated as one liked.i Thus, driven 
 twice from his fields, both as owner and as tenant farmer, 
 without work or resources, he had been forced to migrate to 
 the city. At Rome, however, life was not more easy for 
 him. What could he do there? There was little trade, 
 and usually it was not in the hands of the free men. In 
 countries where slavery flourishes, work is looked down 
 upon. To die of hunger without doing anything, is re- 
 garded by the free man as a privilege and an honour. 
 Besides, each noble had men of all trades among his slaves, 
 and as such a number of workmen were too many for 
 himself alone, he hired them out to those who had none, or 
 made them keep shop in a corner of his house for his own 
 profit. Here again slave competition killed free labour. 
 Happily at this time Marius opened the ranks of the 
 army to the poorest citizens (capite censi). These unfor- 
 tunate men, finding no other resource, became soldiers. 
 For lack of something better to do, they achieved the con- 
 quest of the world, subjugated Africa, Gaul, and the East, 
 visited Britain and Germany, and the greater number of 
 them, the bravest and best, were killed in these distant 
 expeditions. During this time, the vacancies left in the 
 city by those who departed and did not return were ill 
 filled. Since Rome had become powerful, people from all 
 parts of the world came to her, and we may well suppose 
 they were not always the most respectable. 
 
 Several times she had endeavoured to defend herself 
 against these invasions of foreigners; but it was useless to 
 make severe laws to remove them, they always returned to 
 hide themselves in that immense city without a poUce, and, 
 once settled there, the more prosperous, by means of their 
 
 ' See the Histoire de Tesclavage dans Vantiquitl of M. Wallon, 
 
 Vol. II. ch. ix. 
 
 F 
 
66 CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 money, the others by means of base services or cunning, 
 succeeded in obtaining the title of citizens. Those who 
 received it more naturally, and without needing to demand 
 it, were the freedmen. No doubt the law did not grant 
 them all political rights at oncej but after one or two 
 generations all these reservations disappeared, and the 
 grandson of him who had ground at the mill and who had 
 been sold in the slave-market voted the laws and elected 
 the consuls like a Roman of the old stock. It was of this 
 mixture of freedmen. and foreigners, that was formed what 
 at this time was called the Roman people, a wretched 
 people who lived on the bounty of private persons or the 
 alms of the state, who had neither memories nor traditions, 
 nor political capacity, nor national character, nor even 
 morality, for they were ignorant of that which makes up the 
 honour and dignity of life in the lower classes, namely, 
 work. With such a people a republic was no longer 
 possible. This is, of all governments, that which demands 
 the greatest integrity and political judgment in those who 
 enjoy it. The more privileges it confers the more devoted- 
 ness and intelligence it demands. People who did not use 
 their rights, or only used them to sell them, were not worthy 
 to preserve them. That absolute power which they had 
 invited by their votes, which they had received with applause, 
 was made for them ; and one understands that the historian 
 who studies from afar the events of the past, when he sees 
 liberty disappear from Rome, consoles himself for its fall 
 by saying that it was deserved and inevitable, and that he 
 pardons or even applauds the man who, in overturning it, 
 was only an instrument of necessity or justice. 
 
 But the men who lived then, who were attached to the 
 republican government by tradition and memories, who 
 recalled the great things it had done, who owed to it their 
 
CICERO'S PUBLIC LIFE 67 
 
 dignities, position, and renown, could they think like us and 
 resign themselves as easily to its fall ? Firstly, this govern- 
 ment existed. They were familiarized to its defects, since 
 they had lived with them so long. They suffered less from 
 them, through the long habit of enduring them. On the 
 other hand, they did not know what this new power that 
 wished to replace the republic would be. Royalty inspired 
 the Romans with an instinctive repugnance, especially since 
 they had conquered the East. They had found there, 
 under this name, the most odious of governments, the most 
 complete slavery in the midst of the most refined civilization, 
 all the pleasures of luxury and the arts, the finest expansion 
 of intellect with the heaviest and basest tyranny ; princes 
 accustomed to play with the fortune, honour, and life of 
 men, a species of cruel spoilt children, such as are only now 
 to be found in the African deserts. This picture did not 
 attract them, and whatever disadvantages the republic had, 
 they asked themselves if it was worth while to exchange them 
 for those that royalty might have. Besides, it was natural that 
 the fall of the republic should not appear to them so near 
 and so sure as it does to us. It is with states as with men, 
 for whom we find, after their death, a thousand causes of 
 death which nobody suspected during their lifetime. While 
 the machinery of this ancient government was still working 
 it could not be seen how disorganized it was. Cicero has, 
 sometimes, moments of profound despair, in which he 
 announces to his friends that all is lost ; but these moments 
 do not last, and he quickly regains his courage. It seems to 
 him that a firm hand, an eloquent voice, and the agreement 
 of good citizens can repair all, and that liberty will easily 
 remedy the abuses and faults of liberty. He never perceives 
 the whole gravity of danger. In the worst days, his thoughts 
 never go beyond the schemers and the ambitious men 
 
68 CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 who disturb the public repose ; it is always Catiline, Caesar, 
 or Clodius whom he accuses, and he thinks that all will be 
 saved if one can succeed in overcoming them. He was mis- 
 taken, Catiline and Clodius were only the symptoms of a 
 deeper evil that could not be cured ; but is he to be blamed 
 for entertaining this hope, chimerical as it was ? Is he to 
 be blamed for having thought that there were other means 
 of saving the republic than the sacrifice of liberty? An 
 honest man and a good citizen ought not to accept these 
 counsels of despair at first. It is useless to tell him that 
 the decrees of destiny condemn to perish the constitution 
 that he prefers and that he has promised to defend, he 
 does well not to believe it entirely lost until it is actually 
 overthrown. ' We may call such men, if we like, blind or 
 dupes ; it is honourable in them not to be too perspicacious, 
 and there are errors and illusions that are worth more than a 
 too easy resignation. Real liberty existed no longer at Rome, 
 as I believe, the shadow only remained, but the shadow was 
 still something. One cannot bear a grudge against those 
 who attached themselves to it and made desperate efforts 
 not to allow it to perish, for this shadow, this semblance, 
 consoled them for lost liberty and gave them some hope of 
 regaining it. This is what honest men like Cicero thought, 
 who, after mature reflection, without enthusiasm, without 
 passion, and even without hope, went to find Pompey again ; 
 this is what Lucan makes Cato say in those admirable lines 
 which seem to me to express the feelings of all those who, 
 without concealing from themselves the sad state of the 
 republic, persisted in defending it to the last : "As a father 
 who has just lost his child takes pleasure in conducting his 
 obsequies, lights with his own hands the funeral pyre, leaves 
 it with regret, as tardily as he can ; so, Rome, I will not 
 forsake thee until that I have held thee dead in my arms. 
 
CICERO'S PUBLIC LIFE 69 
 
 I will follow to the end thy very name, O Liberty, even 
 when thou shalt be no more than a vain shadow ! " ^ 
 
 IV. 
 
 Pharsalia was not the end of Cicero's political career, as 
 he had thought. Events were to lead him back once more 
 to power and replace him at the head of the republic. His 
 retired life, his silence during the early days of Caesar's 
 dictatorship, far from injuring his reputation, on the con- 
 trary enhanced it. Statesmen do not lose so much as they 
 think by remaining for a time outside of affairs. Retire- 
 ment, supported with dignity, increases their importance. 
 That they are no longer in power suffices for people to find 
 some inclination to regret them. There are fewer reasons 
 to be severe towards them when their place is not coveted, 
 and as people no longer suffer from their faults the memory 
 of them is easily lost, and their good qualities only are 
 remembered. This is what happened to Cicero. His dis- 
 grace disarmed all the enemies that his power had made 
 him, and his popularity was never so great as when he kept 
 himself voluntarily from the public eye. A little later, 
 when he thought he ought to draw nearer to Caesar, he 
 conducted himself with so much tact, he adjusted so 
 cleverly submission and independence, he knew so well 
 how to preserve an appearance of opposition even in his 
 eulogies and flatteries, that public opinion did not cease to 
 favour him. feesides, the most illustrious defenders of the 
 
 1 Luc, Phars. ii. 300 : 
 
 Non ante revellar 
 Exanimem quam te comphctar, Roma, tuumque 
 Nomen, libertas, et inanem prosequar umhram. 
 
70 CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 vanquished cause, Pompey, Cato, Scipio, Bibulus, were dead. 
 Of all those who had occupied with honour the highest 
 posts under the old government, he alone remained ; con- 
 sequently it was usual to regard him as the last represent- 
 ative of the republic. We know that on the Ides of 
 March, Brutus and his friends, after having struck down 
 Caesar, while brandishing their bloody swords, called for 
 Cicero. They seemed to recognize him as the head of 
 their party, and to give him the credit of the bloodshed that 
 they had just committed. 
 
 It was, then, circumstances rather than his own will 
 that caused him to play so great a part in the events which 
 followed the death of Caesar. 
 
 I shall narrate later ^ how he was led to engage in that 
 struggle with Antony, in which he was to perish. I shall 
 show that it was not of himself and voluntarily that he 
 began it. He had quitted Rome and did not wish to 
 return. He thought that the time for resistance under 
 legal forms had passed, that it was necessary to oppose to 
 Antony's veterans good soldiers rather than good reasons, 
 and he was not wrong. Convinced that his part was 
 finished, and that that of the men of war was about to 
 begin, he set out for Greece, when a gale cast him on the 
 coast of Rhegium. Thence he repaired to the port of 
 Velia, where he found Brutus, who was also preparing to 
 leave Italy, and it was he who, always scrupulous, always 
 the enemy of violence, asked him to make once again an 
 effort to rouse the people, and once more to attempt the 
 struggle on the basis of law. Cicero yielded to the request 
 of his friend, and although he had little hope of success, 
 he hastened to return to Rome there to offer this last battle. 
 
 1 In the study on Brutus. 
 
CICERO'S PUBLIC LIFE 71 
 
 This was the second time that he came, like Amphiaraiis, 
 " to throw himself alive into the gulf." 
 
 Brutus did him a good service that day. The desperate 
 enterprise in which he engaged him, almost in spite of 
 himself, could not be useful to the republic, but was 
 serviceable to Cicero's glory. This was perhaps the grandest 
 moment in his political life. In the first place, we have 
 the pleasure and almost the surprise of finding him firm 
 and decided. He seems to have freed himself from all 
 that hesitation that usually troubled his conduct ; and be- 
 sides, it was scarcely possible to hesitate then, for the 
 question had never been so clearly stated. At each new 
 development of events, the parties stood out more clearly. 
 For the first time, the ambition of Caesar, of which every- 
 body knew, by rallying round the Roman aristocracy all those 
 who wished, like it, to preserve the ancient institutions, had 
 enlarged the limits of this party and modified its programme. 
 By taking into itself new elements it changed in name as 
 in character; it became the party of order, the party of 
 honest men, of the "optimates." It is thus that Cicero loves 
 to name it. The meaning of this name was at first rather 
 vague, after Pharsalia it became more precise. As at this 
 moment there was no longer any doubt of the intentions of 
 the conqueror, as he was seen to openly substitute his 
 authority for that of the senate and people, the party that 
 resisted him took the name proper to it, and which no- 
 body could any longer refuse it ; it became the republican 
 party. The struggle was fairly begun between the republic 
 and despotism. And, that doubt might be still less possible, 
 despotism after Caesar's death showed itself to the Romans 
 under its least disguised and, so to say, most brutal form. 
 A soldier without political genius, without distinction of 
 manners, without greatness of soul, at once coarse, debauched 
 
72 CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 and cruel, asserted by force his right to the inheritance of 
 the great dictator. He did not take the trouble to hide 
 his designs, and neither Cicero nor anybody else could be 
 deceived any longer. It must have been a great relief to 
 that mind usually so undecided and uncertain to see the 
 truth so clearly, to be no longer perplexed by shadows, to 
 have such a complete confidence in the justice of his cause, 
 and after so much doubt and obscurity at last to fight in 
 clear daylight. We feel that his mind is at ease ! how much 
 freer and more lively he is ! what ardour there is in this old 
 man, and what eagerness for the fight ! None of the young 
 men about him show so much decision as he, and he himself 
 is assuredly younger than when he strove against Catiline 
 or Clodius. Not only does he begin the struggle resolutely, 
 but, what is more unusual with him, he pursues it to the end 
 without giving way. By a strange contrast, the most danger- 
 ous enterprise that he had ever undertaken, and which was 
 to cost him his life, was precisely that in which he best 
 resisted his usual fits of discouragement and weakness. 
 
 Immediately on his return to Rome, while he was still 
 inspired by the ardour that he had acquired at Velia from 
 his conversations with Brutus, he went to the senate and 
 ventured to speak there. The first Philippic, compared 
 with the others, appears timid and colourless ; what courage, 
 however, did it not need to pronounce it in that unconcerned 
 city, before those frightened senators, at a few paces from 
 the furious and threatening Antony, who by his spies heard 
 all that was said against him ! Cicero ended then as he 
 had begun. Twice, at an interval of thirty-five years, he 
 raised his voice alone, in the midst ,'of a general silence, 
 against a dreaded power which would not tolerate resistance. 
 Courage, like fear, is contagious. The courage that Cicero 
 showed in his speech awakened that of others. This 
 
CICERO'S PUBLIC LIFE 73 
 
 freedom of speech surprised at first, then shamed those who 
 Icept silence. Cicero took advantage of this first revival, 
 which was still rather hesitating, to assemble a few persons 
 round him and find some defenders of the almost forgotten 
 republic. Here was the difficulty. There were scarcely any 
 republicans left, and the most determined had gone to join 
 Brutus in Greece. All that could be done was to appeal 
 to the moderates of all parties, to all those whom Antony's 
 excesses had shocked. Cicero adjured them to forget their 
 old enmities and to reunite. " Now," said he, " there is only 
 one vessel for all honest men."i Here we recognize his , 
 usual policy. It is again a coalition that he tries to form ' 
 as at the time of his consulship. This part is clearly that 
 for which he has most taste and which suits him best. By 
 the pliability of his character and his principles he was fitter 
 than anybody to reconcile opinions, and the habit he had of 
 approaching all parties made him not a stranger to any, and 
 he had friends everywhere. Thus his undertaking appeared 
 at first to succeed very well. Several of Caesar's generals 
 readily listened to him, those especially who thought that, 
 in the main, they lost less by remaining citizens of a free 
 state, than by becoming subjects of Antony; and ambitious 
 subalterns, like Hirtius and Pansa, who, after the master's 
 death, did not feel themselves strong enough to aim at the 
 first place, and who would not be contented with the 
 second. Unfortunately it was still but a collection of 
 chiefs without soldiers, and never had there been more 
 need of soldiers than at that moment. Antony was at 
 Brundusium, where he was waiting for the legions he had 
 sent for to Macedonia. Enraged by the unexpected resist- 
 ance that he had met with, he proclaimed that he would 
 avenge himself by pillage and slaughter, and he was 
 ' Adfam. xii. 25. 
 
74 CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 known to be the man to do so. Every one thought that 
 already he saw his house sacked, his estate parcelled out, 
 his family proscribed. Fear reigned everywhere, men 
 trembled, hid themselves and fled. The most courageous 
 sought on all sides for some one who might be called upon 
 to defend the republic. No aid was to be hoped for but 
 from Decimus Brutus, who occupied Cisalpine Gaul with 
 some legions, or from Sextus Pompey, who was reorganizing 
 his troops in Sicily, but this aid was distant and doubtful, 
 and ruin was near and sure. In the midst of this general 
 panic, the nephew of Caesar, the young Octavius, whom 
 the jealousy of Antony, and the distrust of the republicans 
 had up till then kept away, and who impatiently awaited 
 the opportunity of making himself known, thought that this 
 opportunity had come. He went through the environs of 
 Rome calling to arms his uncle's veterans who were settled 
 there. His name, his liberality, the promises he lavished 
 soon brought him soldiers. At Calatia, at Casilinum, he 
 found three thousand' in a few days. Then he addressed 
 the leaders of the senate, offered them the support of his 
 veterans, demanding for sole recompense that they would 
 acknowledge him in the efforts he was about to make to 
 save them. In such distress there was no means of refusing 
 this help without which they would perish, and Cicero him- 
 self, who had at first shown some distrust, let himself be 
 seduced at last by this young man who consulted him, 
 flattered him, and called him father. When, thanks to him, 
 they had been saved, when they saw Antony, abandoned 
 by some of his legions, obliged to leave Rome where 
 Octavius held him in check, the gratitude of the senate was 
 as lavish as their fear had been great. The liberator was 
 loaded with dignities and honours. Cicero, in his eulogies, 
 raised him much above his uncle ; he called him a divine 
 
CICERO'S PUBLIC LIFE 75 
 
 young man raised up by heaven for the defence of his 
 country : he stood surety for his patriotism and fidelity ; 
 imprudent words for which Brutus reproached him severely, 
 and which the event was not long in falsifying ! 
 
 The events that followed are too well known for me to 
 have need of repeating them. Never had Cicero played a 
 greater political part than at this moment ; never had he 
 better deserved that name of statesman that his enemies 
 denied him. For six months he was the soul of the re- 
 publican party, which was re-constituted at his call. "It 
 was I, said he proudly, who gave the signal for this awaken- 
 ing,"^ and he was right in saying so. His voice seemed to 
 restore some patriotism and some energy to this unconcerned 
 people. He made them once more applaud those grand 
 names of country and liberty that the Forum would soon 
 hear no more. From Rome, the ardour gained the 
 neighbouring townships, and gradually all Italy was roused. 
 This, however, was not enough for him, he went still 
 further to raise up enemies for Antony and defenders 
 for the republic. He wrote to the proconsuls of the pro- 
 vinces and to the generals of the armies. From one end 
 of the world to the other he chid the lukewarm, flattered 
 the ambitious, and congratulated the energetic. He it 
 was who incited Brutus, always undecided, to seize Greece. 
 He applauded the bold stroke of Cassius, which made 
 him master of Asia ; he urged Cornificius to drive Antony's 
 soldiers from Africa; he encouraged Decimus Brutus 
 to resist in Modena. The promises of support that he 
 invited with so much earnestness arrived from all sides. 
 Even enemies and traitors dared not openly refuse him 
 their co-operation. Lepidus and Plancus made emphatic 
 protestations of fidelity. Pollio wrote to him in a 
 I Philifp. xiv. 7. 
 
76 CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 solemn tone "that he swears to be the enemy of all 
 tyrants." 1 On all sides his friendship is demanded, his 
 support solicited, men put themselves under his protection. 
 His Philippics, which, happily, he had not time to revise, are 
 scattered through the whole world, very nearly as he spoke 
 them, and with the vivacity of the first sketch, preserve traces 
 of the interruptions and applause of the people. These 
 passionate harangues carry everywhere the passion of these 
 grand popular scenes. They are read in the provinces, they 
 are devoured in the armies, and from the most distant 
 countries evidence of the admiration they excite arrives to 
 Cicero ! " Your robe is even more fortunate than our arms," 
 says a victorious general to him, and adds, " In you the 
 consular has conquered the consul." ^ " My soldiers are 
 yours," wrote another to him.^ The credit of all the good 
 fortune of the republic was attributed to him. It was he who 
 was congratulated and thanked for all the successes that 
 were obtained. On the evening that the victory of Modena 
 was known at Rome, the whole people went to his house 
 to seek him, conducted him in triumph to the Capitol, and 
 wished to hear from his own mouth an account of the battle. 
 " This day, he wrote to Brutus, has repaid me for all my 
 trouble." * 
 
 This was the last triumph of Cicero and the republic. 
 Successes sometimes more fatal to coalitions than reverses. 
 When the common enemy, hatred of whom has united 
 them, has been conquered, private dissensions break out. 
 Octavius wished to weaken Antony in order to obtain from 
 him what he wanted; he did not wish to destroy him. When 
 he saw him flying towards the Alps, he made overtures to 
 him, and both together marched on Rome. From that time 
 
 ' Adfam. x. 31. « Ibid. xii. 13. 
 
 3 Ibid. xii. 12, 4 Ad Brut. 3. 
 
CICERO'S PUBLIC LIFE 77 
 
 nothing remained for Cicero but "to imitate brave gladiators, 
 and seek like them to die honourably." ^ His death was 
 courageous, whatever PoUio, who, having betrayed him., had 
 an interest in calumniating him, may have asserted. I would 
 rather believe the testimony of Livy, who was not one of his 
 friends, and who lived at the court of Augustus : "Of all 
 his misfortunes, says he, death is the only one that he bore 
 like a man."^ This, it must be confessed, was something. 
 He might have fled, and at one moment he tried to do so. 
 He wished to set out for Greece, where he would have found 
 Brutus; but after some days' sailing with contrary winds, 
 suffering from the sea, tormented above all by regrets and 
 sadness, he lost heart for life, and was landed at Gaeta, and 
 went back to his house at Formise to die there. He had 
 often thanked the gale that took him back to Velia, the 
 first time that he wished to flee to Greece. This it was that 
 gave him the opportunity to deliver his Philippics. The 
 storm which drove him ashore at Gaeta has not been less 
 serviceable to his fame. His death seems to me to redeem X 
 the weaknesses of his life. It is much for a man like him, 
 who did not boast of being a Cato, to have been so firm at 
 this terrible moment ; the more timid he was by tempera- 
 ment the more I am touched at finding him so resolute in 
 dying. Thus, when, in studying his history, I am tempted 
 to reproach him with his irresolution and weakness, I think 
 of his end, I see him as Plutarch has so well depicted him, 
 " his beard and hair dirty, his countenance worn, taking 
 his chin in his left hand as his manner was, and looking 
 steadily at his murderers," ^ and I no longer dare to be 
 severe. Notwithstanding his defects he was an honest man, x 
 " who loved his country well," as Augustus himself said on a 
 
 1 Philipp. iii. 14. "^ Apud Senec, Suas, 6. 
 
 ' Plut. Cic. 48. 
 
78 CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 day of sincerity and remorse. If he was sometimes too 
 hesitating and feeble, he always ended by defending what 
 he regarded as the cause of justice and right, and when that 
 cause had been for ever conquered, he rendered it the last 
 service it could claim from its defenders, he honoured it by 
 his death. 
 
II 
 
 Cicero's private life 
 
 Those who have read Cicero's correspondence with 
 Atticus, and know what place questions of money occupy in 
 these private communications, will not be surprised that I 
 begin the study of his private life by endeavouring to 
 estimate the amount of his fortune. The men of those 
 days were as much concerned about money as the men of 
 to-day, and it is perhaps in this that these two periods, which 
 men have so often taken pleasure in comparing, most 
 resemble each other. 
 
 It would be necessary to have at hand the account-books 
 of Eros, Cicero's steward, in order to set down with exact- 
 ness the expenses of his household. All that we know with 
 certainty on this subject is, that his father left him a very 
 moderate fortune only, and that he increased this greatly, 
 while we cannot say precisely to how much it amounted. 
 His enemies were in the habit of exaggerating it in order to 
 throw suspicion on the means by which it had been acquired, 
 and it is indeed probable that if we knew the total it would 
 appear to us considerable ; but we must take care not to 
 judge of it according to the ideas of our own time. Wealth 
 is not an absolute thing ; a man is rich or poor according to 
 
 79 
 
8o CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 the position in which he lives, and it is possible that what 
 would be wealth in one place would scarcely be a com- 
 petency elsewhere. Now we know that at Rome wealth 
 was far from being so evenly distributed as it is among us. 
 Forty years before the consulship of Cicero, the tribune 
 Philip said that, in that immense city, there were not two 
 thousand persons who had a patrimony ; ^ but these possessed 
 all the public wealth. Crassus asserted that, in order to call 
 himself rich, it was necessary for a man to be able to support 
 an army out of his revenues, and we know that he was in a 
 position to do so without inconvenience. Milo contrived to 
 get into debt in a few years to the amount of more than 
 seventy million sesterces (_;£'5 60,000). Caesar, while still a 
 private person, expended, at one time, one hundred and 
 twenty million sesterces (_;^96o,ooo) in order to make a 
 present of a new Forum to the Roman people. This out- 
 rageous extravagance implies immense fortunes. In com- 
 parison with these, we can understand that Cicero's, which 
 scarcely sufficed for the purchase of a house on the Palatine, 
 and which the adornment of his Tusculan villa almost 
 exhausted, must have appeared very moderate. 
 
 In what manner had he gained it ? It is not without 
 interest to know this in order to reply to the ill-natured 
 reports that his enemies circulated. He says somewhere 
 that the means by which a fortune was honestly made at 
 Rome were commerce, contracting for public works and 
 farming the taxes ; ^ but these means, very convenient for 
 people in haste to enrich themselves, could only be used by 
 
 ' De offic. ii. 21 : Things had not changed when Cicero was consul. 
 We see that his brother, in a letter that he addressed to him then, says 
 that there were few knights in Rome, pauci equites, that is, few men 
 possessing more than £t,2.oo. 
 
 ^ Farad. 6. Qui honeste rem quaerunt mercaturis faciendis, operis 
 dandis publicis sumendis, etc. 
 
CICERO'S PRIVATE LIFE 8i 
 
 those who had no political ambition ; they excluded from 
 public honours, and consequently did not suit a man who 
 aspired to govern his country. We do not see, either, that 
 he acted like Pompey, who invested his funds in an import- 
 ant bank and shared in the profits ; at least there remains 
 no trace in his letters of undertakings of this nature. Nor 
 could he think of making money out of his works. It was 
 not the custom then for an author to sell his works to a 
 bookseller ; or rather, the trade of a bookseller, as we under- 
 stand it now, scarcely existed. Usually those who wished 
 to read or possess a book borrowed it of the author or of 
 his friends, and had it copied by their slaves. When they 
 had more copyists than they needed for their own use, they 
 made them work for the public and sold the copies they 
 did not want j but the author had nothing to do with the 
 profits they drew from them. And finally, public offices 
 could not have enriched Cicero ; we know that they were 
 less a means of making money than an occasion of expense 
 and ruin, either by the price it was sometimes necessary to 
 pay for them, or by the games and entertainments that were 
 expected from those who had obtained them. It was only 
 in the government of provinces that immense gains were 
 made. It was on these gains that the ambitious nobles 
 usually counted to repair the waste of their fortunes that 
 the luxury of their private life and the profusion of their 
 public life had caused. Now Cicero deprived himself 
 of this opportunity by yielding to his colleague Antony 
 the province that, according to custom, he ought to have 
 governed after his consulship. It has been suspected, 
 indeed, that he then made with him some bargain by 
 which he reserved to himself a share in the handsome 
 profits that he relinquished. If this bargain existed, which 
 is doubtful, it is certain it was not kept. Antony pillaged 
 
82 CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 his province, but he pillaged it for himself alone, and Cicero 
 drew nothing from it. Twelve years later, without having 
 desired it, he was appointed pro-consul of Cilicia. We 
 know that he remained there only a year, and that, without 
 doing any illegal act, and while securing the happiness of 
 his subjects, he contrived to take back two million two 
 hundred thousand sesterces (^^i 7,600), which gives us an 
 idea of what might be gained in the provinces when they 
 were pillaged without scruple. Besides, this money did not 
 profit Cicero ; he lent part of it to Pompey, who did not 
 return it, and it is probable that the civil war caused him to 
 lose the rest, since he found himself without means at its 
 close. We must seek, then, elsewhere for the origin of his 
 fortune. If he had lived in our days we should have no 
 trouble in learning whence it came. It would be sufficiently 
 explained by his ability as an advocate. With an eloquence 
 such as his, he would not fail now-a-days to enrich himself 
 quickly at the bar ; but at that time there was a law for- 
 bidding orators to accept any fee or present from those for 
 whom they had pleaded (lex Cincia, de donis et muneribus). 
 Although it was the work of a tribune, who had made it, says 
 Livy, in the interest of the people,^ it was at bottom an 
 aristocratic law. By not allowing the advocate to draw a 
 legitimate profit from his talent, it kept away from the bar 
 those who had nothing, and reserved the exercise of this 
 profession for the rich as a privilege, or rather it prevented 
 it becoming really a profession. I think, however, that this 
 law was always very imperfectly obeyed. As it could not 
 provide against everything, it was scarcely possible for it to 
 prevent the gratitude of clients finding some ingenious 
 method to escape its severity. If they were really deter- 
 mined to pay in some manner for the services which they 
 
 ^ Hist, xxxiv. 4. 
 
CICERO'S PRIVATE LIFE 83 
 
 had received, it seems to me that the law could only 
 with difficulty prevent it. In Cicero's time, they did not 
 fail to violate it openly. Verres told his friends that he 
 had divided the money he brought back from Sicily into 
 three parts ; the most considerable was to corrupt his judges, 
 the second to pay his advocates, and he contented himself 
 with the third.'- Cicero, who on this occasion laughed at 
 Verres' advocate, Hortensius, and at the sphynx that he had 
 received on account, took care not to imitate him. His 
 brother affirms that up to the time when he was a candidate 
 for the consulship he had never asked anything from his 
 clients.2 Nevertheless, whatever scruples we may suppose 
 him to have had, it is very difficult to admit that he had 
 never profited by their good-will. No doubt he refused the 
 presents that the Sicilians wished to make him when he had 
 avenged them on Verres ; perhaps it would not have been 
 prudent to accept them after such a notorious trial, which 
 had drawn all eyes upon him, and made him powerful 
 enemies ; but some years afterwards I see that he allowed 
 himself to accept the present made him by his friend Papi- 
 rius Poetus, for whom he had just pleaded.^ It consisted 
 of some fine Greek and Latin books, and Cicero loved 
 nothing so much as books. I notice also that when he had 
 need of money, which happened sometimes, he preferred 
 to apply to rich men whom he had defended. These were 
 less harsh and more patient creditors to him than others, 
 and it was natural that he should profit by their influence 
 after having aided them by his eloquence. He tells us him- 
 self that he bought the house of Crassus with the money of 
 his friends. Among them, P. Sylla, for whom he had just 
 pleaded, alone lent him two million sesterces (;^i 6,000). 
 
 1 In Verrem, act. prim. 14. ^ De petit cons. 5 and 9. 
 
 3 AdAtt. i. 20. 
 
84 CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 When he was attacked for this in the senate, Cicero got out 
 of it with a joke ; which proves that the lex Cincia was no 
 longer much respected, and that those who infringed it had 
 no great fear of being prosecuted. ^ It is very possible, then, 
 that those nobles whose honour or fortune he had saved, 
 that those towns or provinces that he had protected against 
 greedy governors, that those foreign princes whose interests 
 he had defended in the senate, above all, those rich societies 
 of farmers of the taxes, through whose hands passed all the 
 money that the world sent to Rome, and whom he served 
 so vigorously by his reputation or his eloquence, had often 
 sought and sometimes found an opportunity of testifying 
 their gratitude. This generosity appears to us now-a-days so 
 natural that we should scarcely blame Cicero for not having 
 always rejected it ; but we may be sure that, if he sometimes 
 thought that he might accept it, he always did so with more 
 moderation and reserve than the greater number of his 
 contemporaries. 
 
 We know one of the most usual forms, and, as it seems, 
 one of the most legal by which this generosity showed 
 itself. It was the custom at Rome to pay, after death 
 and by will, all debts of gratitude and affection contracted 
 during life. This was a means that offered itself to the 
 client of discharging his obligations to the advocate who 
 had defended him, and it does not appear that the lex 
 Cincia threw any obstacle in the way. We have nothing 
 like it among ourselves. At that time, the father of a family 
 who had natural heirs might withdraw from his fortune any 
 amount that he wished, and give his relations, his friends, 
 and all who had been useful or agreeable to him, a good 
 share of his estate. This custom had become an abuse. 
 Fashion and vanity had come to have a large share in it. 
 ^ A. Gell. xii. 12. 
 
CICERO'S PRIVATE LIFE 85 
 
 A man wished to appear to have many friends by inscribing 
 the names of many persons in his will, and naturally the 
 most illustrious were inscribed by preference. Sometimes 
 people were brought together in it who seldom met anywhere 
 else, and who must have been surprised to find themselves 
 there. Cluvius, a rich banker of Puteoli, left his estate to 
 Cicero and Caesar after Pharsalia.^ The architect Cyrus 
 placed among his heirs both Clodius and Cicero, that is to 
 say, the two persons who most heartily detested each other 
 in Rome.2 This architect, no doubt, regarded it as an 
 honour to have friends among all parties. It even happened 
 that a man set down in his will people whom he had never 
 seen. Lucullus augmented his immense wealth by bequests 
 which unknown persons left him while he governed Asia. 
 Atticus received a good number of legacies from people 
 of whom he had never heard, and who only knew him by 
 reputation. How much more then must a great orator like 
 Cicero, to whom so many were under obligation, and of 
 whom all Romans were proud, have been often the object 
 of this posthumous liberality ! We see in his letters that he 
 was the heir of many persons who do not seem to have held 
 a large place in his life. In general, the amounts left to him 
 are not very large. One of the largest is that which he in- 
 herited from his old master the Stoic Diodotus, whom he 
 had kept at his house till his death.^ In recompense of 
 this long-continued affection, Diodotus left him all his savings 
 as a philosopher and teacher. They amounted to a hundred 
 thousand sesterces (;^8oo). The union of all these small 
 legacies no doubt made up a considerable sum. Cicero 
 himself values it at more than twenty million sesterces 
 (;^i 60,000).* It seems to me, therefore, that there is no 
 
 1 Ad Att. xiii. 45 et seq. ^ Pro Mil. 18. 
 
 3 Ad Att. ii. 20. ^ Philipp. ii. 16. 
 
86 CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 doubt that these legacies, with the presents he may have 
 received from the gratitude of his clients, were the chief 
 sources of his wealth. 
 
 This wealth was composed of property of different kinds. 
 He possessed, firstly, houses in Rome. Besides that which 
 he inhabited on the Palatine, and that which he had from 
 his father at Carinae, he had others in Argiletum and on 
 the Aventine which brought him in an income of eighty 
 thousand sesterces {£,(0,0)?- He possessed numerous villas 
 in Italy. We know of eight very important ones belonging 
 to him,^ without reckoning those small houses {diversoria) 
 that the nobles bought along the principal roads to have 
 somewhere to rest when they went from one domain to 
 another. He had also sums of money of which he disposed 
 in different manners, as we see in his correspondence. We 
 cannot estimate this part of his wealth with exactness ; but 
 according to the practice of the rich Romans of that time, 
 it may be affirmed that it was not less than his houses or 
 estates. One day when he is asking Atticus to buy him 
 some gardens that he wishes, he says to him, in an offhand 
 way, that he thinks he may have about six hundred thousand 
 sesterces (^^4800) in his own hands. ^ We have here per- 
 haps one of the most curious differences that distinguish 
 that state of society from ours. Now-a-days scarcely any but 
 bankers by profession handle such considerable sums of 
 money. Our aristocracy has always affected to look down 
 upon questions of finance. The Roman aristocracy, on the 
 
 ' Ad Ait. xvi. I. 
 
 ^ His villa at Tusculum particularly had cost him very dear. What 
 proves it to have been of great value is that on his return from exile the 
 senate allowed him 500,000 sesterces (^^^4000) to repair the damage it 
 had suffered in his absence, and that he thought they were far from 
 having given him enough. 
 
 3 Ad Att. xii. 25. 
 
CICERO'S PRIVATE LIFE 87 
 
 contrary, understood them well, and thought much 'about 
 them. Their great wealth was used to further political 
 ambition, and they did not hesitate to risk a part of it to gain 
 adherents. The purse of a candidate for public honours was 
 open to all who could be of use to him. He gave to the 
 poorest, he lent to others, and sought to form with them 
 bonds of interest which would attach them to his cause. Suc- 
 cess usually followed those who had put the greatest number 
 of men under obligations. Cicero, although less rich than the 
 majority of them, imitated them. In his letters to Atticus 
 he is almost always writing about bills and dates of maturity, 
 and we see in them that his money circulated on all sides. 
 He is in constant business relations, and as we should now 
 say, has a running account with the greatest personages. 
 Sometimes he lends to Caesar, and sometimes borrows of 
 him. Among his numerous debtors are found persons of 
 all- ranks and fortunes, from Pompey to Hermogenes, who 
 seems to have been a simple freedman. Unfortunately, 
 counting them all, his creditors are still more numerous. 
 Notwithstanding the example and advice of Atticus, he ill 
 understood how to manage his fortune. He constantly had 
 costly fancies. He would have at any price statues and 
 pictures to adorn his galleries and give them the appearance 
 of the gymnasia of Greece. He ruined himself to embellish 
 his country houses. Generous out of season, we see him 
 lending to others when he is constrained to borrow for 
 himself. It is always when he is deepest in debt that he 
 has the greatest desire to buy some new villa. He does not 
 hesitate, then, to apply to all the bankers of Rome ; he goes 
 to see Considius, Axius, Vectenus, Vestorius; he would 
 even try to soften Caecilius, the uncle of his friend Atticus, 
 if he did not know that he was inflexible. Nevertheless he 
 bears his troubles with a light heart. The prudent Atticus 
 
CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 tells him in vain that it is disgraceful to be in debt ; but as 
 he shares this disgrace with a great many people it seems 
 light, and he is the first to joke about it. One day he told 
 one of his friends that he was so much in debt that he would 
 willingly enter into some conspiracy, if any one would receive 
 him, but that since he had punished Catiline's he inspired 
 no confidence in others ; ' and when the first day of the 
 month arrives, when payments become due, he is content 
 to shut himself up at Tusculum and leave Eros or Tiro 
 to argue with the creditors. 
 
 These embarrassments and troubles, of which his corre- 
 spondence is full, make us think, alniost in spite of ourselves, 
 of certain passages in his philosophical works which appear 
 rather surprising when we compare them with his mode of 
 living, and which may easily be turned against him. Is it 
 really this thoughtless prodigal, always ready to spend with- 
 out consideration, who exclaimed one day in a tone of con- 
 viction that moves us ; "Ye immortal gods, when will men 
 understand what treasures are found in economy ! " ^ How 
 dared this ardent lover of works of art, this impassioned 
 friend of magnificence and luxury, how dared he treat as 
 madmen people who love statues and pictures too well, or 
 build themselves magnificent houses? He stands self-con- 
 demned, and I do not wish to entirely absolve him ; but 
 while we pronounce on him a severe sentence, let us remem- 
 ber the times in which he lived, and let us think of his 
 contemporaries. I will not compare him with the worst 
 men, his superiority would be too evident ; but among those 
 who are regarded as the most honourable, he still holds one 
 of the foremost places. He did not owe his wealth to 
 usury like Brutus and his friends ; he did not augment it by 
 that sordid avarice with which Cato is reproached ; he did 
 1 Adfam. v. 6. 2 parad. 6. 
 
CICERO'S PRIVATE LIFE 89 
 
 not pillage the provinces like Appius or Cassius ; he did 
 not consent like Hortensius to take his share of this pillage. 
 We must then acknowledge that, notwithstanding the blame 
 we may lay upon him, he was more scrupulous and dis- 
 interested in money matters than others. In the main, his 
 irregularities only injured himself, ^ and if he had too much 
 taste for ruinous prodigality, at least he did not have 
 recourse to scandalous gains in order to satisfy it. These 
 scruples honour him so much the more as they were then 
 very rare, and few people have passed, without stain, through 
 that greedy and corrupt society in the midst of which he 
 lived. 
 
 II. 
 
 He does not deserve less praise for having been honour- 
 able and regular in his family life. These were virtues of 
 which his contemporaries did not set him an example. 
 
 It is probable that his youth was austere.^ He had 
 firmly resolved to become a great orator, and that was not 
 to be done without trouble. We know from himself how 
 hard the apprenticeship to oratory then was. " To succeed 
 in it, he tells us, a man must renounce all pleasures, avoid 
 all amusements, say farewell to recreation, games, entertain- 
 ments, and almost to intercourse with one's friends." ^ This 
 was the price he paid for his success. The ambition by which 
 
 ^ It is not probable that Cicero wronged his creditors like Milo, who 
 , only gave them 4 per cent. When he left Rome after the death of 
 Caesar, Cicero wrote to Atticus that the money that was owing him 
 would suffice to pay his debts ; but as at that moment money was scarce 
 and debtors held off, he ordered him to sell his goods, if necessary, and 
 added : ' ' Consult only my reputation. " Ad Ait, xvi. 2. 
 
 ^ Ad fam. ix. 26 : Me nihil istorum ne juvenem quidem movit 
 unquam. 
 
 ^ Pro Caelio, 19. 
 
go CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 he was devoured preserved him from the other passions, and 
 sufficed him. His youth was completely taken up with 
 study. When once these early years were passed the 
 danger was less ; the habit of work that he had formed, 
 and the important affairs in which he was engaged might 
 suffice to preserve him from all dangerous impulses. 
 Writers who do not like him have vainly tried to find in 
 his life traces of that licentiousness which was so common 
 around him. The most ill-disposed, like Dio,^ banter him 
 about a clever woman, named Caerellia, whom he some- 
 where calls his intimate friend. 2 She was so in fact, and 
 it appears that she was not wanting in influence over him. 
 His correspondence with her was preserved and pubHshed. 
 This correspondence was, it is said, rather free in tone, and 
 seemed at first to give some occasion to the malicious ; but 
 it must be remarked, that Caerellia was much older than 
 he ; that, far from being a cause of dissension in his house- 
 hold, we only see her intervening to reconcile him with 
 his wife,5 in fact that their acquaintance seems to liave 
 begun in a common liking for philosophy ; * a sedate origin 
 which does not forebode unpleasing consequences. Caerellia 
 was a learned lady whose conversation must have been 
 very pleasing to Cicero. Her age, her education which 
 was not that of ordinary women, put him at ease with her, 
 and, as he was naturally quick at repartee, as, once excited 
 by the animation of conversation, he could not always 
 govern and restrain his wit, and as, besides, by patriotism 
 as by taste, he put nothing above that free and daring 
 gaiety of which Plautus seemed to him the model, it may 
 have happened that he wrote to her without ceremony 
 those pleasantries "more spicy than those of the Attic 
 
 ^ Dio Cass. xlvi. 18. 2 Adfam. xiii. 72. 
 
 3 Ad Ait. xiv. 19. " Ibid. xiii. 21. 
 
CICERO'S PRIVATE LIFE 91 
 
 writers, and yet truly Roman." 1 Later, when these rustic 
 and republican manners were no longer in fashion, when, 
 under the influence of the gradually developing court life, 
 the rules of politeness were being refined, and manners 
 were becoming more ceremonious, the freedom of these 
 remarks no doubt shocked some fastidious minds, and may 
 have given rise to ill-natured remarks. For our own part, 
 of all that correspondence of Cicero which is now lost, the 
 letters to Caerellia are those perhaps that we most regret. 
 They would have shown us better than all the rest the 
 habits of society, and the life of the fashionable world at 
 that time. 
 
 It is thought that he was about thirty when he married. 
 It was towards the end of Sulla's rule, at the time of his 
 first oratorical successes. His wife, Terentia, belonged to a 
 rich and distinguished family. She brought him in dowry, 
 according to Plutarch,^ 120,000 drachmae (;^444o), and 
 we see that she possessed houses in Rome, besides a forest 
 near Tusculum.^ It was an advantageous marriage for a 
 young man just beginning political life with more talent 
 than fortune. Cicero's correspondence does not give a 
 very good impression of Terentia. We imagine her as 
 an economical and orderly, but sharp and disagreeable 
 housewife, with whom it was difficult to live at ease. She 
 did not agree very well with her brother-in-law Quintus, 
 and still less with Pomponia her sister-in-law, who, how- 
 ever, did not agree with anybody. She had that influence 
 over her husband that a determined and obstinate woman 
 always has over a careless and irresolute mind. For a long 
 time Cicero left her absolute mistress of the household, he 
 
 ^ Ad fam. ix. 15: Non attici, sed sakiores quam illi Atticorum, 
 rotnani veteres atque urbani sales. 
 
 2 Plut. Cic. 8. ^ Ad Att. ii. 4. 
 
92 CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 was very glad to shift on to somebody else those occupa- 
 tions that did not suit him. She was not without influence 
 on his political life. She advised him to take energetic 
 measures at the time of the great consulship, and later she 
 embroiled him with Clodius, from dislike to Clodia, whom 
 she suspected of wishing to allure him. As no gain came 
 amiss to her, she succeeded in entangling him in some 
 financial affairs, that Atticus himself, who was not over 
 scrupulous, did not think very honourable ; but there her 
 power ended. She seems to have remained a stranger, 
 and perhaps to have been indifferent to her husband's 
 literary glory. In none of Cicero's works, in which the 
 names of his daughter, his brother, and his son recur so 
 frequently, is there any mention of his wife. Terentia had 
 no influence on his mind. He never confided to her his 
 private opinions on the most serious affairs of life ; he never 
 admitted her to share in his opinions and beliefs. We 
 have a curious proof of this in his correspondence. Terentia 
 was devout, and devout to excess. She consulted sooth- 
 sayers, she believed in prodigies, and Cicero did not take 
 the trouble to cure her of this eccentricity. He seems 
 even, somewhere, to make a singular distribution of labours 
 between her and himself; he shows her respectfully serving 
 the gods, while he is occupied in working for men.^ Not 
 only did he not disturb her devotion, but he showed a con- 
 sideration for her which surprises us. When he was about 
 to start for Pompey's camp, he wrote to her : " At last I 
 am free from that uneasiness and suffering that I experi- 
 enced, and which caused you so much concern. The day 
 after my departure I recognized the cause. During the 
 night I threw off pure bile, and felt myself relieved as if 
 
 ^ Ad fam. xiv. 4 : Neque Dii, quos tu castissime coluisti, neque 
 homines, quibus ego semper servivi, etc. 
 
CICERO'S PRIVATE LIFE 93 
 
 some god had been my doctor. Evidently it was Apollo 
 
 and Aesculapius. I beg you to return thanks to them with 
 
 your usual piety and zeal." ^ This is strange language in 
 
 the mouth of that sceptic who wrote the treatise On the 
 
 Nature of the Gods ; but Cicero was, no doubt, one of those 
 
 people, like Varro and many others, who while they make 
 
 little use themselves of religious practices, think that they 
 
 are not bad for the common people and for women. There 
 
 has survived a whole book of letters from Cicero to Terentia, 
 
 which contains the history of his household. What strikes 
 
 one on opening it is that, as we get further on, the letters 
 
 become shorter, the last are no more than short notes. 
 
 And not only does the length of the letters diminish, but 
 
 their tone is no longer the same, and marks of affection 
 
 become more and more rare. We may then conclude 
 
 that this affection was not of the kind that increases with 
 
 time ; that common life, which strengthens true personal 
 
 unions, enfeebled this one. Instead of being strengthened, 
 
 it was worn out by length of time. The earUer letters show 
 
 an incredible passion, and this in spite of the fact that 
 
 Cicero had been married nearly twenty years; but he was 
 
 then very unfortunate, and it seems that misfortune makes 
 
 people more tender, and that families feel the need of 
 
 drawing closer when heavy blows fall on them. Cicero 
 
 had just been condemned to exile. He departed very 
 
 sorrowfully from Rome, where he knew that his house was 
 
 burnt, his friends persecuted, his family ill-treated. Terentia 
 
 had behaved very energetically, she had suffered for her 
 
 husband, and suffered with courage. On learning the 
 
 manner in which she had been treated, Cicero wrote to 
 
 her despairingly : " How wretched I am ! And must a 
 
 woman so virtuous, so honourable, so gentle, so devoted, 
 
 ' Adfam. xiv. 7. 
 
94 CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 be thus tormented for my sake ! " ^ " Be assured, he tells 
 her elsewhere, that I have nothing dearer than you. At 
 this moment I think I see you, and cannot restrain my 
 tears ! " ^ He added with still more effusion, " Oh, my 
 life, I would wish to see you again, and die in your arms!"^ 
 The correspondence then ceases for six years. It re-com- 
 mences at the time Cicero left Rome, to go and govern 
 Cilicia, but the tone is very much changed. In the single 
 letter remaining to us of this date, affection is replaced by 
 business. It has to do with a legacy that had fallen in very 
 opportunely for Cicero's fortunes, and of the means of 
 turning it to the best account. It is true he still calls 
 Terentia his very dear and much-desired wife, suavissima 
 atque optatissima, but these words have the appearance of 
 polite phrases. However, he shows a great desire to see 
 her again, and asks her to come as far as she can and wait 
 for him.* She went as far- as Brundusium, and, by a lucky 
 chance, ' she entered the town at the same time that her 
 husband arrived in the harbour ; they met and embraced 
 on the Forum. It was a happy moment for Cicero. He 
 returned with the title of imperator and the hope of a 
 triumph ; he found his family united and joyous. Unfortu- 
 nately the civil war was just about to break out. During 
 his absence parties had broken with each other ; they were 
 about to come to blows, and immediately after his arrival 
 Cicero was obliged to make choice between them, and to 
 take his side. This war not only injured his political 
 position, it was fatal to his private happiness. When the 
 correspondence recommences, after Pharsalia, it becomes 
 extremely matter-of-fact. Cicero returns to Italy, and 
 lands again at Brundusium, no longer triumphant and 
 
 1 Adfam. xiv. I. ^ Ibid. xiv. 3. 
 
 ^ Ibid. .xiv. 4. * Ibid. xiv. 5. 
 
CICERO'S PRIVATE LIFE 95 
 
 happy, but vanquished and desperate. This time he does 
 not wish to see his wife again, although he never had more 
 need of consolation. He keeps her at a distance, and 
 that without much ceremony. " If you come, he tells her, 
 I do not see how you can be useful to me." ^ What makes 
 this answer more cruel is, that, at the same time, he sent 
 for his daughter, and consoled himself with her conversa- 
 tion. As to his wife she gets nothing more from him than 
 short notes, and he has the courage to tell her that he does 
 not make them longer because he has nothing to say.^ At 
 the same time he refers her to Lepta, Trebatius, Atticus, 
 and Sicca, to learn what decisions he has taken. This 
 shows clearly enough that she no longer enjoyed his con- 
 fidence. The only mark of interest he still gives her is to 
 ask her, from time to time, to take care of her health, a 
 superfluous recommendation, since she lived more than a 
 hundred years ! The last letter he addressed to her is just 
 what a man would write to his steward to give an order. 
 " I expect to be at Tusculum the 7th or 8th of the month, 
 he says j be careful to prepare everything. I shall, perhaps, 
 have several persons with me, and very Hkely we shall 
 remain some time. Let the bath be ready, and let nothing 
 be wanting that is necessary to comfort and health." ^ A 
 few months afterwards, the separation which this tone fore- 
 shadows, took place between the couple. Cicero divorced 
 Terentia after more than thirty years of marriage, and when 
 they had children and grandchildren. 
 
 What motives drove him to this disagreeable extremity ? 
 Probably we do not know them all. Terentia's disagreeable 
 temper must have often caused those little quarrels in the 
 household which, repeated continually, end by wearing out 
 the most steadfast affection. About the time that Cicero 
 
 ^ Adfam. xiv. 12. ^ Ibid. xiv. 17. ^ Ibid. xiv. 20. 
 
96 CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 was recalled from exile, and a very few months after he had 
 written those passionate letters of which I have spoken, he 
 said to Atticus : " I have some domestic troubles of which I 
 cannot write to you," and added, so that he might be under- 
 stood : " My daughter and my brother love me still." ^ We 
 must think that he had good reason to complain of his 
 wife, to leave her thus out of the list of persons by whom he 
 thought himself loved. It has been suspected that Terentia 
 was jealous of the affection Cicero showed to his daughter. 
 This affection was somewhat excessive and so exclusive as 
 possibly to wound her, and she was not a woman to endure 
 this without complaint. We may believe that these dis- 
 sensions prepared and led up to the divorce, but they were 
 not the final cause of it. The motive was more prosaic 
 and vulgar. Cicero justified it by the waste and misuse of 
 his money by his wife, and several times he accused her of 
 having ruined him for her own benefit. One of the most 
 curious characteristics of that age was that the women 
 appear as much engaged in business and as interested in 
 speculations as the men. Money is their first care. They 
 work their estates, invest their funds, lend and borrow. 
 We find one among Cicero's creditors, and two among his 
 debtors. Only, as they could not always appear themselves 
 in these financial undertakings, they had recourse to some 
 obliging freedman, or some shady business man, who watched 
 their interests and profited by their gains. Cicero, in his 
 speech for Caecina, coming across a character of this sort, 
 whose business was to devote themselves to the fortune of 
 women, and often to make their own at their expense, 
 depicts him in these terms : " There is no man one finds 
 oftener in ordinary life. He is the flatterer of women, the 
 advocate of widows, a pettifogging lawyer by profession, a 
 
 1 Ad Ait. iv. I. 
 
CICERO'S PRIVATE LIFE 97 
 
 lover of quarrels, a constant attendant at trials, ignorant 
 and stupid among men, a clever and learned lawyer among 
 women, expert in alluring by the appearance of a false zeal 
 and a hypocritical friendship, eager to render services some- 
 times useful but rarely faithful." ^ He was a marvellous 
 guide for women tormented with the desire of making a 
 fortune; so Terentia had one of these men about her, her 
 freedman, Philotimus, a clever man of business, but not 
 very scrupulous, who had succeeded at this trade, since he 
 was rich and himself possessed slaves and freedmen. In 
 early days Cicero often made use of him, doubtless at the 
 request of Terentia. It was he who got for him at a low 
 price some of the property of Milo when he was exiled. 
 It was a profitable piece of business, but not in very good 
 taste, and Cicero, who felt it to be so, speaks of it with 
 some shame. On his departure for Cilicia he left the 
 administration of part of his property to Philotimus, but 
 he was not long in repenting of it. Philotimus, like the 
 steward of a great house, paid less attention to his master's 
 interests than to his own. He kept for himself the profits 
 he had made on the property of Milo, and on Cicero's 
 return presented him an account in which he figured as 
 his creditor for a considerable amount. " He is a marvel- 
 lous thief ! " ^ said Cicero, in a rage. At this time his 
 suspicions did not go beyond Philotimus; when he re- 
 turned from Pharsalia he saw clearly that Terentia was his 
 accomplice. " I have found my household affairs, said he 
 to a friend, in as bad a state as those of the republic." ^ 
 The distress in which he found himself at Brundusium 
 made him distrustful. He looked more closely into his 
 accounts, a thing that was not usual with him, and it was 
 not difficult for him to discover that Terentia had often 
 
 ^ Pro Caecin. 5. ^ Ad Att. vii. i, 3. ^ Ad fam. iv. 14. 
 
 H 
 
98 CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 deceived him. At one time she had retained sixty thousand 
 sesterces ^ (;^48o) out of her daughter's dowry. This was 
 a handsome profit, but she was not negligent of small 
 gains. Her husband caught her one day pocketing two 
 thousand sesterces (;^i6) out of a sum he had asked her 
 for.2 This rapacity completed the irritation of Cicero, 
 whom other causes no doubt had soured and hurt for a 
 long time. He resigned himself to the divorce, but not 
 without sorrow. We do not break with impunity the 
 bonds that habit, in the absence of affection, ought to 
 draw closer. At the moment of separation, after so many 
 happy days have been passed together, so many ills sup- 
 ported in common, there must always be some memory 
 which troubles us. What adds to the sadness of these 
 painful moments is, that when we wish to withdraw and 
 isolate ourselves in our sorrow, business people arrive ; we 
 must defend our interests, reckon and discuss with these 
 people. These discussions, which had never suited Cicero, 
 made him then suffer more than usual. He said to the 
 obliging Atticus, when asking him to undertake them for 
 him : " The wounds are too recent, I could not touch them 
 without making them bleed." ^ And as Terentia continued 
 making difficulties, he wished to put an end to the discussion 
 by giving her all she asked. " I would rather," he wrote, 
 " have cause to complain of her than become discontented 
 with myself." * 
 
 We can well understand that the wags did not fail to 
 make merry on the subject of this divorce. It was a just 
 retaliation after all, and Cicero had too often laughed at 
 others to expect to be spared himself. Unfortunately he 
 gave them, a short time after, a new opportunity of amusing 
 
 ^ Ad Att. xi. 2. 2 /^2V^_ xi. 24. 
 
 ^ Ibid. xii. 22. * Ibid. xii. 21. 
 
CICERO'S PRIVATE LIFE 99 
 
 themselves at his expense. Notwithstanding his sixty-three 
 years he thought of marrying again, and he chose a very 
 young girl, Publilia, whom her father, when dying, confided 
 to his guardianship. A marriage between guardian and 
 ward is a real stage marriage, and the guardian generally 
 ha.s the worst of it. How did it happen that Cicero, with 
 his experience of the world and of life, allowed himself to 
 be drawn into this imprudent step ? Terentia, who had to 
 revenge herself, repeated everywhere that he had fallen 
 violently in love with this young girl ; but his secretary, 
 Tiro, asserted that he had only married her in order to pay 
 his debts with her fortune, and I think we must believe 
 Tiro, although it is not usual that, in this kind of marriage, 
 the elder is also the poorer. As might be foreseen, trouble 
 was not long in appearing in the household. Publilia, who 
 was younger than her step-daughter, did not agree with 
 her, and, it appears, could not conceal her joy when she 
 died. This was an unpardonable crime in Cicero's eyes, 
 and he refused to see her again. It is strange that this 
 young woman, far from accepting with pleasure the liberty 
 that he wished to restore to her, made great efforts to 
 re-enter the house of this old man who divorced her,i but 
 he was inflexible. This time he had had enough of marriage, 
 and it is said that, when his friend Hirtius came to offer 
 him the hand of his sister, he refused her, under the 
 pretence that it is difficult to attend at the same time to a 
 wife and to philosophy. It was a wise answer, but he 
 would have done well to have thought of it sooner. 
 
 1 Ad Att. xii. 32. 
 
CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 III. 
 
 Cicero had two children by Terentia. His daughter 
 TuUia was the elder. He had brought her up in his own 
 way, initiating her into his studies, and giving her the taste 
 for those intellectual things that he loved so much himself, 
 and which, it appears, his wife did not care for. " I find 
 in her, he said, my features, my words, my mind ; " ^ 
 accordingly he loved her tenderly. While she was still 
 very young her father could not refrain from making 
 allusion in one of his pleadings to the affection he had 
 for her.2 This affection, certainly the deepest he ever 
 felt, was the great anxiety of his life. A sadder fate than 
 that of this young woman it is impossible to imagine. 
 Married at thirteen to Piso, then to Crassipes, and separated 
 from them by death and divorce, she re-married for the 
 third time while her father was absent governing Cilicia. 
 Suitors were numerous, even among young men of illustrious 
 family, and it was not only the renown of the father-in-law 
 that attracted them, as we might think. He tells us that 
 they supposed he would return from his government very 
 rich. By marrying his daughter these young men thought 
 to make an advantageous match which would allow them 
 to pay their debts.^ Among them were the son of the 
 consul Sulpicius and Tiberius Nero, who was the father of 
 Tiberius and Drusus. Cicero favoured the latter, who even 
 went to Cilicia to seek his consent, but his wife and 
 daughter, to whom on leaving he had given the right of 
 choosing, decided without him for Cornelius Dolabella. 
 He was a young man of high family, a friend of Curio, of 
 Caelius and Antony, who till then had lived like them, that 
 ^ Ad Quint, i. 3. 2 i„ y^^^ „^f ^.^^^ ; ^ 
 
 ^ Ad Ait. vii. 4. 
 
CICERO'S PRIVATE LIFE loi 
 
 is to say in risking his reputation and wasting his fortune; he 
 was, besides, a man of wit and fashion. This husband was not 
 much to the taste of Atticus ; but it seems that Terentia 
 was gained over by his great name, and perhaps Tullia was 
 not insensible to his fine manners. At first the marriage 
 seemed a happy one. Dolabella charmed his mother-in-law 
 and his wife by his good-nature and kindness. Cicero 
 himself, who had been at first surprised at the haste with 
 which the affair had been carried through, thought that his 
 son-in-law had a good deal of wit and refinement. " For 
 the rest, he added, we must be resigned." ^ He referred 
 to the frivolous and dissipated habits that Dolabella did 
 not give up notwithstanding his marriage. He had promised 
 to reform, but kept his promise badly, and, however willingly 
 Cicero would have shut his eyes to his, dissoluteness, ended 
 by making resignation very difficult. He continued to live 
 like the youth of that time, making an uproar in the streets 
 at night under the windows of fashionable women, and his 
 debaucheries seemed scandalous in a city accustomed to 
 debauch. He attached himself to a fashionable woman, 
 celebrated by her amorous adventures, Caecilia Metella, 
 wife of the consular Lentulus Sphinther. She Avas the same 
 woman who afterwards ruined the son of the great tragic 
 actor ^sopus, that madman who, not knowing what to 
 invent to ruin himself most quickly, had the strange caprice, 
 at a dinner that he gave to his mistress, to dissolve and 
 swallow a pearl worth a million sesterces ^ (;^8ooo). With 
 a woman like Metella, Dolabella soon squandered his 
 fortune, he then dissipated his wife's, and not content with 
 betraying and ruining her, threatened to divorce her when 
 she dared to complain. It seems that Tullia loved him 
 very much, and for a long time resisted those who advised 
 ' AdAtt. vii. 3. 2 Horace, Sat. II. 3, 239. 
 
CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 a divorce. Cicero blames, somewhere, what he calls his 
 daughter's ^ folly, but she had at last to decide for this after 
 fresh outrages, and leave her husband's house to return to 
 her father's. She was enceinte. The confinement that 
 followed in these painful circumstances carried her off at 
 Tusculum at the age of thirty-one. 
 
 Cicero was inconsolable for her death, and his grief at 
 losing her was certainly the greatest of his life. As his 
 affection for his daughter was well known, letters came to 
 him from all sides, of the sort that usually console those 
 only who have no need of consolation. The philosophers, 
 to whom his name gave credit, tried by their exhortations 
 to make him support his loss more courageously. Caesar 
 wrote to him from Spain, where he had just vanquished 
 Pompey's sons. The greatest personages of all parties, 
 Brutus, Lucceius, Dolabella himself, shared his sorrow; 
 but none of these letters must have touched him more 
 sensibly than that which he received from one of his old 
 friends, Sulpicius, the great lawyer, who at that time governed 
 Greece. Fortunately it has been preserved. It is worthy 
 of the great man who wrote it and of him to whom it was 
 addressed. The following passage has often been quoted : 
 " I must tell you a reflection that has consoled me, perhaps 
 it will succeed in diminishing your affliction. On my return 
 from Asia, as I was sailing from Aegina towards Megara, I 
 began to look at the country surrounding me. Megara 
 was in front of me, Aegina behind, the Piraeus on the right, 
 Corinth on the left. Formerly these were very flourishing 
 cities, now they are but scattered ruins. At this sight I 
 said to myself : How dare we, poor mortals that we are, 
 complain of the death of our friends, whose life nature has 
 made so short, when we see at one glance the mere corpses 
 ' Ad Alt. xi. 25. 
 
CICERO'S PRIVATE LIFE 103 
 
 of so many great cities lying around ! " ^ The thought is 
 new and grand. This lesson drawn from the ruins, this 
 manner of drawing moral ideas from nature, this grave 
 melancholy mingled with the contemplation of a fine 
 landscape, are sentiments little known to pagan antiquity. 
 This passage seems inspired by the spirit of Christianity. 
 We should say it was written by a man familiar with the 
 sacred writings, and "who was already sitting, with the 
 prophet, on the ruins of desolate cities." This is so true 
 that Saint Ambrose, wishing to write a letter of condolence, 
 imitated this one, and it was thought, quite naturally, to be 
 Christian. Cicero's reply was not less noble. We see in 
 it a most touching picture of his sadness and isolation. 
 After having described the sorrow he felt at the fall of the 
 republic, he adds : " My daughter at least was left me. I 
 had a place to which to retire and rest. The charm of her 
 conversation made me forget my cares and sorrows; but 
 the dreadful wound I received in losing her has re-opened 
 in my heart all those wounds that I thought closed. 
 Formerly I retired into my family to forget the misfortunes 
 of the state, but can the state now offer me any remedy to 
 make me forget the misfortunes of my family? I am 
 obliged to shun, at the same time, both my home and the 
 Forum, for my home no longer consoles me for the trouble 
 the republic causes me, and the republic cannot fill the 
 void that I find in my home."^ 
 
 TuUia's sad fate, and the grief that her death caused her 
 father, attract us towards her. When we see her lamented 
 so much we wish to know her better. Unfortunately, not a 
 single letter of hers remains in Cicero's correspondence ; 
 when he lavishes compliments on her mind, we are obliged 
 to take it upon trust, and a father's compliments are always 
 1 Adfani. iv. 5. ^ Ad Att. iv. 6. 
 
I04 CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 open to suspicion. From what we know, we can easily 
 admit that she was an accomplished woman ; lectissima 
 femina, is the praise Antony, who did not like her family, 
 gives her.i We should like to know, however, how she bore 
 the education that her father gave her. We rather mistrust 
 this sort of education, and we cannot help fearing that TuUia 
 suffered somewhat from it. The very manner in which her 
 father bewailed her is, to our way of thinking, prejudicial 
 to her memory. In composing on her death, that treatise 
 " On Consolation " which was filled with her praises, he has 
 not, perhaps, done her a great service. A young woman so 
 unfortunate deserved an elegy ; a philosophic treatise seems 
 to weigh on her memory. Is it not possible that her father 
 rather spoilt her in wishing to make her too learned? It 
 was quite the custom at that time. Hortensius had made 
 his daughter an orator, and it is asserted that, one day, she 
 pleaded an important case better than a good advocate. I 
 suspect that Cicero wished to make his a philosopher, and I 
 am afraid he succeeded only too well. Philosophy presents 
 many dangers for a woman, and Madame de S^vignd had 
 not much reason to congratulate herself on having put her 
 daughter under the system of Descartes. That dry and 
 pedantic figure is not calculated to make us like women 
 philosophers. 
 
 Philosophy succeeded still less with Cicero's son Marcus 
 than with his daughter. His father was completely mistaken 
 about his tastes and abilities, which is not very extraordinary, 
 for parental tenderness is often more warm than enlightened. 
 Marcus had only the instincts of a soldier, Cicero wished to 
 make him a philosopher and an orator, but he lost his 
 labour. These instincts, repressed for a moment, always 
 broke out again with added force. At eighteen, Marcus 
 ' Ad Att. X. 8. 
 
CICERO'S PRIVATE LIFE 105 
 
 lived like all the young men of that time, and it was 
 necessary to remonstrate with him on his expenditure. He 
 was bored with the lessons of his master, Dionysius, and 
 with the rhetoric that his father tried to teach him. He wished 
 to set out for the Spanish war with Caesar. Instead of 
 listening to him, Cicero sent him to Athens to finish his 
 education. He had an establishment like a nobleman's son. 
 They gave him freedmen and slaves that he might make as 
 good a figure as the young Bibulus, Acidinus and Messala 
 who studied with him. About a hundred thousand sesterces 
 (;^8oo) were assigned to him for his annual expenses, which 
 seems a reasonable allowance for a student in philosophy ; 
 but Marcus went away in a bad humour, and his stay at 
 Athens did not have the results that Cicero expected. No 
 longer under his father's eyes he indulged his tastes without 
 restraint. Instead of following the lectures of the rhetoricians 
 and philosophers, his time was taken up with good dinners 
 and noisy entertainments. His life was so much the more 
 dissolute as, to all appearance, he was encouraged in his 
 dissipation by his master himself, the rhetorician Gorgias. 
 This rhetorician was a thorough Greek, that is to say, a man 
 ready to do anything to make his fortune. In studying his 
 pupil he saw that he should gain more by flattering his vices 
 than by cultivating his good qualities, and he accordingly 
 flattered his vices. In this school, Marcus, instead of paying 
 attention to Plato and Aristotle, as his father recommended 
 him, acquired the taste for Falernian and Chian wine, a 
 taste that continued with him. The only reputation that he 
 was proud of afterwards was that of being the hardest 
 drinker of his time ; he sought and obtained the glory of 
 conquering the triumvir Antony, who enjoyed a great reputa- 
 tion in this line, that he was very proud of. This was his 
 way of avenging his father, whom Antony had put to death. 
 
io6 CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 Later, Augustus, who wished to pay the son the debt he had 
 contracted with his father, made him a consul, but did not 
 succeed in breaking him of his habits of debauchery, for 
 the sole exploit that we are told of him is, that one day, 
 when he was drunk, he threw his glass at Agrippa's head.^ 
 
 We can understand what sorrow Cicero must have felt 
 when he learnt of his son's early dissoluteness. I suppose 
 he hesitated to believe it for a long time, for he liked to 
 delude himself about his children. So when Marcus, 
 lectured by all the family, dismissed Gorgias and promised 
 to behave better, his father, who was very willing to be 
 deceived, was eager to believe it. From this time we see 
 him constantly engaged in begging Atticus not to let his son 
 want for anything, and in studying the letters he receives 
 from him to try and discover some progress. There 
 remains just one of these letters of Marcus of the time when 
 he seems to return to better habits. It was addressed to 
 Tiro, and is full of protestations of repentance. He acknow- 
 ledges himself so humiliated, so tormented by all his faults, 
 " that not only his soul detests them, but he cannot bear to 
 hear of them." To convince him thoroughly of his sincerity 
 he draws the picture of his life ; it is impossible to imagine 
 one better occupied. He passes his days and almost his 
 nights with the philosopher Cratippus, who treats him like a 
 son. i He keeps him to dinner in order to deprive himself of 
 his society as little as possible. He is so charmed with the 
 learned conversation of Bruttius that he wishes to have him 
 near him, and pays his board and lodging. He declaims in 
 Latin, he declaims in Greek with the most learned rhetori- 
 cians. He only visits well-informed men; he only sees 
 learned old men, the wise Epicrates, the venerable Leonidas, 
 all the Areopagus in fact, and this edifying narration ends 
 ^ Plin. Hist, nat. xiv. 22. 
 
CICERO'S PRIVATE LIFE 107 
 
 with these words : " Above all, take care to keep in good 
 health, that we may be able to talk science and philosophy 
 together." 1 
 
 It is a very pleasing letter, but in reading it a certain 
 suspicion comes into our mind. These protestations are so 
 exaggerated that we suspect Marcus had some design in 
 making them, especially when we remember that Tiro 
 possessed the confidence of his master, and disposed of all 
 his liberalities. Who knows if these regrets and high- 
 sounding promises did not precede and excuse some appeal 
 for funds ? 
 
 It must be said in favour of Marcus that, after having 
 grieved his father by his dissipation, at least he consoled 
 his last moments. When Brutus passed through Athens, 
 calling to arms the young Romans who were there, Marcus 
 felt his soldierly instincts revive. He remembered that at 
 seventeen he had successfully commanded a cavalry corps 
 at Pharsalia, and he was one of the first to respond to the 
 call of Brutus. He was one of his most skilful, most 
 devoted and most courageous lieutenants, and often de- 
 served his praise. "I am so pleased, wrote Brutus to 
 Cicero, with the valour, activity and energy of Marcus, that 
 he seems always to recall to me the father whose son he has 
 the honour to be." ^ We can well understand how pleased 
 Cicero must have been with this testimony. It was while 
 rejoicing over this awakening of his son that he wrote and 
 dedicated to him his treatise £>e Officiis, which is perhaps 
 his finest work, and which was his last farewell to his family 
 and his country. 
 
 ' Adfam. xvi. 21. ^ Brut, ad Cic. ii. 3. 
 
io8 CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 IV. 
 
 This study of Cicero's family life is not yet complete ; 
 there remain a few details to add. We know that a Roman 
 family was not only composed of the persons united by 
 relationship, but that it also comprised the slaves. Servant 
 and master were then more closely connected than they are 
 now, and they had more community of life. In order to 
 know Cicero thoroughly, then, in his family, we must say a 
 few words about his relations with his slaves. 
 
 In theory, he did not hold opinions upon slavery different 
 from those of his time. Like Aristotle, he accepted the 
 institution, and thought it legitimate. While proclaiming 
 that a man has duties to fulfil towards his slaves, he did not 
 hesitate to admit that they must be held down by cruelty 
 when there was no other means of managing them ; ^ but in 
 practice he treated them with great mildness. He attached 
 himself to them so far as to weep for them when he had 
 the misfortune to lose them. This, probably, was not 
 usual, for we see that he almost begs pardon for it 
 of his friend Atticus. " My mind is quite troubled, he 
 writes to him ; I have lost a young man named Sositheus, 
 who was my reader, and I am more grieved perhaps than I 
 ought to be at the death of a slave." ^ I only see one, in 
 all his correspondence, with whom he seems 'to be very 
 angry ; this was a certain Dionysius whom he sought for even 
 in the depths of Illyria, and whom he wished to have again 
 at any price f but Dionysius had stolen some of his books, 
 and this was a crime that Cicero could not forgive. His slaves 
 also loved him very much. He boasts of the fidelity they 
 showed towards him in his misfortunes, and we know that 
 1 De offic. ii. 7. « ^^ ^;^_ ;_ j2. 
 
 ^ Ad/am. xiii, 77. 
 
CICERO'S PRIVATE LIFE 109 
 
 at the last moment they would have died for him if he had 
 not prevented them. 
 
 We know better than the rest one of them, who had a 
 greater share in his affection, namely, Tiro. The name he 
 bears is Latin, which makes us suspect that he was one of 
 those slaves born in the master's house {vernae), who were 
 looked upon as belonging to the family more than the rest, 
 because they had never left it. Cicero became attached to 
 him early, and had him carefully instructed. Perhaps he 
 even took the trouble to finish his education himself. He 
 calls himself, somewhere, his teacher, and likes to rally him 
 about his way of writing. He had a very lively affection 
 for him, and at last could not do without him. He played 
 a great part in Cicero's house, and his powers were very 
 various. He represented in it order and economy, which 
 were not the ordinary qualities of his master. He was the 
 confidential man through whose hands all financial matters 
 passed. On the first of the month he undertook to scold 
 the debtors who were in arrears, and to get too pressing 
 creditors to have patience ; he revised the accounts of the 
 steward Eros, which were not always correct ; he went to 
 see the obliging bankers whose credit supported Cicero in 
 moments of difficulty. Every time there was some delicate 
 commission to be executed he was applied to, as for instance 
 when it was a question of demanding some money of 
 Dolabella without displeasing him too much. The care he 
 gave to the most important affairs did not prevent him 
 being employed on the smallest. He was sent to overlook 
 the gardens, spur on the workmen, superintend the building 
 operations : the dining-room, even, fell within his province, 
 and I see that he is entrusted with the sending out the 
 invitations to a dinner, a thing not always without its 
 diflSculties, for one must only bring together guests who are 
 
CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 mutually agreeable, "and Tertia will not come if Publius is 
 invited." ^ But it is as secretary, especially, that he rendered 
 Cicero the greatest services. He wrote almost as quickly 
 as one speaks, and he alone could read his master's writing, 
 that the copyists could not decipher. He was more than a 
 secretary for him, he was a confidant, and even a col- 
 laborator. Aulus Gellius asserts that he helped him in the 
 composition of his works,^ and the correspondence does not 
 belie this opinion. One day when Tiro had remained ill in 
 some country house, Cicero wrote to him that Pompey, who 
 was then on a visit to him, asked him to read him some- 
 thing, and that he had answered that all was mute in the 
 house when Tiro was not there. " My literature, he added, 
 or rather ours, languishes in your absence. Come back as 
 quickly as possible to re-animate our muses." ^ At this time 
 Tiro was still a slave. It was not till much later, about the 
 year 700, that he was manumitted. Every one about Cicero 
 applauded this just recompense for so niany faithful services. 
 Quintus, who was then in Gaul, wrote expressly to his 
 brother to thank him for having given him a new friend. 
 In the sequel. Tiro bought a small field, no doubt out of 
 his master's bounty, and Marcus, in the letter he wrote him 
 from Athens, rallies him pleasantly on the new tastes this 
 acquisition will develop in him. " Now you are a land- 
 owner ! says he, you must leave the elegance of the town 
 and become quite a Roman peasant. How much pleasure 
 I have in contemplating you from here under your new 
 aspect ! I think I see you buying agricultural imple- 
 ments, talking with the farmer, or saving. seeds for your 
 garden in a fold of your robe at dessert ! " « But, proprietor 
 
 ' Adfam. xvi. 22. 2 A. Gell. vii. 3. 
 
 ' Adfam. xvi. 10. * Ibid. xvi. 31. 
 
CICERO'S PRIVATE LIFE 
 
 and freedman, Tiro was no less at his master's service than 
 when he was a slave. 
 
 His health was poor, and not always sufficiently attended 
 to. Everybody liked him, but under this pretext every- 
 body made him work. They seemed to agree in abusing 
 his good-nature, which they knew to be inexhaustible. 
 Quintus, Atticus, and Marcus insisted upon his constantly 
 giving them news of Rome and of Cicero. Tiro so readily 
 took his share of each addition to the business that came 
 upon his master, that at last he fell ill. He fatigued him- 
 self so much during Cicero's governorship of Cilicia that, on 
 the return journey, he had to be left at Patras. Cicero very 
 much regretted the separation from him, and to testify the 
 sorrow he felt at leaving him, he wrote to him as often as 
 three times in the same day. The care that Cicero took on 
 every occasion of this delicate and precious health was 
 extreme ; he became a doctor in order to cure him. One 
 day, when he had left him indisposed at Tusculum, he 
 wrote to him : "Take care of your health, which you have 
 heretofore neglected in order to serve me. You know what 
 it demands : a good digestion, no fatigue, moderate exercise, 
 amusement, and keeping the body open. Come back a 
 good-looking fellow, I shall like you all the better for it, 
 you and Tusculum." ^ When the illness was graver the 
 advice was given at greater length. All the family joined 
 in writing, and Cicero, who held the pen, said to him, in 
 the name of his wife and children : "If you love us all, 
 and particularly me who have brought you up, you will only 
 think of re-establishing your health. ... I beg you not to 
 regard expense. I have written to Curius to give you all 
 that you want, and to pay the doctor liberally that he may 
 be more attentive. You have rendered me numberless 
 ^ Adfam. xvi. i8. 
 
CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 services at home, at the Forum, at Rome, in my province, 
 in my public and private affairs, in my studies and my 
 literary work ; but you will put the finishing touch if, as I 
 hope, I see you again in good health." ^ Tiro repaid this 
 affection by an indefatigable devotedness. With his feeble 
 health, he lived more than a hundred years, and we may 
 say that all this long life was employed in his master's 
 service. His zeal did not flag when he had lost him, and 
 his time was taken up with him to his last moments. He 
 wrote his biography, he brought out his unpublished works ; 
 that nothing should be lost, he collected his smallest notes 
 and witty sayings, of which, it is said, he made a somewhat 
 too large collection, for his admiration did not allow him 
 to distinguish, and he published some excellent editions of 
 his speeches, which were still consulted in the time of Aulus 
 Gellius.2 These assuredly were services for which Cicero, 
 who thought so much of his literary glory, would have most 
 heartily thanked his faithful freedman. 
 
 There is one reflection that we cannot help making when 
 we study the relations of Tiro with his master, and that is, 
 that ancient slavery, looked at from this point of view, and 
 in the house of such a man as Cicero, appears less repulsive. 
 It was evidently much softened at this time, and letters 
 have a large share in this improvement. They had diffused 
 a new virtue among those who loved them, one whose 
 name often recurs in Cicero's philosophical works, namely, 
 humanity, that is to say, that culture of mind that softens 
 the heart. It was by its influence that slavery, without 
 being attacked in principle, was profoundly modified in its 
 effects. This change came about noiselessly." People did 
 not try to run counter to dominant prejudices; up to 
 Seneca's time they did not insist on establishing the right 
 1 Adfam. xvi. 3, 4. 2 ^ QgH xiii. 20. 
 
CICERO'S PRIVATE LIFE 113 
 
 of the slave to be reckoned among men, and he continued 
 to be excluded from the grand theories that were made 
 upon human brotherhood; but in reality no one profited 
 more than he by the softening of manners. We have just 
 seen how Cicero treated his slaves, and he was not ex- 
 ceptional. Atticus acted like him, and this humanity had 
 become a sort of point of honour, on which this society of 
 polished and lettered people prided themselves. A few 
 years later, Pliny the younger, who also belonged to this 
 society, speaks with a touching sadness of the sickness 
 and death of his slaves. " I know well, he says, that 
 many others only regard this kind of misfortune as a simple 
 loss of goods, and in thinking thiis they consider themselves 
 great and wise men. For myself, I do not know if they 
 are as great and wise as they imagine, but I do know that 
 they are not men." ^ These were the sentiments of all the 
 distinguished society of that time. Slavery, then, had lost 
 much of its harshness towards the end of the Roman re- 
 public and in the early times of the empire. This improve- 
 ment, which is usually referred to Christianity, was much 
 older than it, and we must give the credit of it to philosophy 
 and letters. 
 
 Besides the freedmen and slaves, who formed part of the 
 family of a rich Roman, there were other persons who were 
 attached to it, although less closely, namely, the clients. 
 Doubtless the ancient institution of clientage had lost 
 much of its grave and sacred character. The time had 
 gone by when Cato said that the clients should take pre- 
 cedence of kinsmen and neighbours in the house, and that 
 the title of patron came immediately after that of father. 
 These ties were much slackened,^ and the obligations they 
 
 1 Plin. Epist. viii. 16. 
 
 - Virgil, however, always faithful to ancient traditions, places, in 
 
 I 
 
114 CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 imposed had become much less rigid. Almost the only one 
 still respected was the necessity the clients were under of 
 going to salute the patron early in the morning. Quintus, 
 in the very curious letter that he addressed to his brother 
 on the subject of his candidature for the consulship, divides 
 them into three classes : first, those who content themselves 
 with the morning visit; these are, in general, lukewarm 
 friends or inquisitive observers who come to learn the news, 
 or who even sometimes visit all the candidates that they 
 may have the pleasure of reading in their faces the state of 
 their hopes; then, those who accompany their patron to 
 the Forum and form his train while he takes two or three 
 turns in the basihca, that everybody may see that it is a 
 man of importance who arrives; and lastly, those who do 
 not leave him all the time he is out of doors, and who 
 conduct him back to his house as they had gone to meet 
 him there. These are the faitjiful aud devoted followers, 
 who do not haggle about the time they give, and whose 
 unwearied zeal obtains for the candidate the dignities he 
 desires.i 
 
 When a man had the good fortune to belong to a great 
 family, he possessed by inheritance a ready-made clientage. 
 A Claudius or a Cornelius, even before he had taken the 
 trouble to oblige anybody, was sure to find his hall half 
 filled every morning with people whom gratitude attached 
 to his family, and he produced a sensation in the Forum by 
 the number of those who accompanied him the day he went 
 there to plead his first cause. Cicero had not this ad- 
 vantage; but, although he owed his clients to himself 
 alone, they were none the less very numerous. In that 
 
 Tartarus, the patron who had deceived his client beside the son who 
 had struck his father. 
 ^ De petit, cons. 9. 
 
CICERO'S PRIVATE LIFE 115 
 
 time of exciting struggles, when the quietest citizens were 
 exposed every day to the most unreasonable accusations, 
 many people were forced to have recourse to him to defend 
 them. He did so readily, for he had no other means of 
 making a clientage than by giving his services to a great 
 many. It was this, perhaps, that made him accept so many 
 bad cases. As he arrived at the Forum almost alone, without 
 that train of persons whom he had obliged, which gave 
 public importance, it was necessary for him not to be too 
 particular in order to form and increase it. Whatever re- 
 pugnance his honest mind may have felt on taking up a 
 doubtful case, his vanity could not resist the pleasure of 
 adding another person to the multitude of those who ac- 
 companied him. There were, in this crowd, according to 
 his brother, citizens of every age, rank, and fortune. Im- 
 portant personages no doubt were mingled with those 
 insignificant folks who usually formed this kind of retinue. 
 Speaking of a tribune of the people, Memmius Gemellus, 
 the protector of Lucretius, he calls him his client.^ 
 
 It was not only at Rome that he had clients and persons 
 who were under obligation to him ; we see by his corre- 
 spondence that his protection extended much further, and 
 that people wrote to him from all parts demanding his 
 services. The Romans were then scattered over the entire 
 world ; after having conquered it they busied themselves in 
 making the greatest possible profit out of it. In the track of 
 the legions and almost at their heels, a swarm of clever and 
 enterprising men settled on the just conquered provinces to 
 seek their fortunes there; they knew how to adapt their 
 skill to the resources and needs of each country. In Sicily 
 and in Gaul they cultivated vast estates, and speculated in 
 wines and corn ; in Asia, where there were so many cities 
 ^ Adfam. xiii. 19. 
 
ii6 CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 opulent or involved in debt, they became bankers, that is 
 to say, they furnished them, by their usury, a prompt and 
 sure means of ruining themselves. In general, they thought 
 of returning to Rome as soon as their fortune was made, 
 and in order to return the sooner, they sought to enrich 
 themselves as quickly as possible. As they were only 
 encamped, and not really settled in the conquered countries, 
 as they found themselves there without ties of affection and 
 without root, they treated them without mercy and made 
 themselves detested. They were often prosecuted before 
 the tribunals and had great need of being defended, and 
 so they sought to procure the support of the best advocates, 
 above all that of Cicero, the greatest orator of his time. 
 His talent and his credit were not too great to extricate them 
 from the discreditable affairs in which they were mixed up. 
 
 If we wish to become well acquainted with one of those 
 great merchants of Rome, who, by their character and their 
 fate, sometimes resemble the speculators of our days, we 
 must read the speech that Cicero delivered in defence of 
 Rabirius Postumus. He there narrates the whole story of 
 his client. It is a lively story, and it is not without interest 
 to sum it up in order to know what those Roman business 
 men, who so often had recourse to his eloquence, were like. 
 Rabirius, the son of a rich and acute farmer of taxes, was 
 born with the spirit of enterprise. He did not confine him- 
 self to a single branch of commerce, for he was one of those 
 of whom Cicero said that they knew all the roads by which ' 
 money could come in, omnes vias pecuniae norunt?- He 
 transacted all kinds of business, and with equally good 
 fortune; he undertook much himself, and often shared in 
 the enterprises of others. He farmed the public taxes ; he 
 lent to private persons, to the provinces and to kings. As 
 ^ Ad Quint, i. i. 
 
CICERO'S PRIVATE LIFE 117 
 
 generous as he was rich, he made his friends profit by his 
 good fortune. He created employment for them, gave 
 them an interest in his business, and a share in the profits. 
 
 His popularity therefore was very great at Rome ; but, 
 as sometimes happens, his prosperity ruined him. He 
 had lent a good deal of money to Ptolemy Auletes, King 
 of Egypt, who probably gave him good interest. This king 
 having got himself expelled by his subjects, Rabirius was 
 induced to make him fresh advances in order to recover 
 the money that was at stake. He pledged his own fortune 
 and even that of his friends to provide for his expenses ; he 
 defrayed the cost of the magnificent royal cortige when 
 Ptolemy went to Rome to demand the support of the 
 senate, and, what must have cost him still more, gave him 
 the means of gaining over the most influential senators. 
 Ptolemy's business appeared safe. As people hoped much 
 from the gratitude of the king, the most important person- 
 ages strove for the honour or rather the profit of reinstating 
 him. Lentulus, then proconsul of Cilicia, contended that 
 they could not refuse it to him ; but at the same time 
 Pompey, who received the young prince at his house at 
 Alba, demanded it for himself. This rivalry caused every- 
 thing to miscarry. The opposing interests counteracted 
 each other, and in order not to cause jealousy by letting 
 one man profit by this fortunate opportunity, the senate 
 would not grant it to anybody. It is said that Rabirius, 
 who knew the Romans well, then gave the king the bold 
 advice to apply to one of those adventurers of whom Rome 
 was full and who flinched from nothing for money. A 
 former tribune, Gabinius, governed Syria. He was promised 
 10,000 talents (;^2,2oo,ooo) if he would openly disobey 
 the decree of the senate. It was a large sum; Gabinius 
 accepted the bargain, and his troops brought Ptolemy back 
 
ii8 CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 to Alexandria. As soon as Rabirius knew that he was 
 re-established he hastened to meet him. To make more 
 sure of recovering his money, he consented to become his 
 overseer of the revenue {diaecetes), or as we should now say, 
 his minister of finance. He wore the Greek mantle, to the 
 great scandal of strict Romans, and put on the insignia 
 of his office. He had only accepted it with the idea that 
 he should never be better paid than if he paid himself, 
 through his own hands. This is what he tried to do, and 
 it appears that in raising the money promised to Gabinius 
 he also cautiously took enough to repay himself; but the 
 people, who were being ruined, complained, and the king 
 to whom Rabirius had become intolerable now that he had 
 no longer need of him, and who was no doubt delighted 
 to find a convenient means of getting rid of a creditor, threw 
 him into prison and even threatened his life. Rabirius fled 
 from Egypt as soon as he could, happy to have left only 
 his fortune there. He had only one resource left. At the 
 same time that he administered the king's finances, he had 
 bought on his own account Egyptian merchandise, paper, 
 flax, glass, and had laden several vessels which unloaded 
 at Puteoli with considerable ostentation. The report of 
 this reached Rome, and, as people there were used to the 
 lucky adventures of Rabirius, rumour took pleasure in ex- 
 aggerating the number of the vessels and the value of their 
 cargo. It was even said, in an undertone, that there was 
 among these ships a smaller one that was not shown, no 
 doubt because it was full of gold and precious objects. 
 Unfortunately for Rabirius there was no truth in all these 
 tales. The little ship only existed in the imagination of 
 news-mongers, and the goods that the others carried being 
 sold at a loss, he was quite ruined. His disaster made a 
 sensation at Rome, and was the talk of a whole season. 
 
CICERO'S PRIVATE LIFE 119 
 
 The friends he had so generously obliged deserted him ; 
 public opinion, which up to that time had been so favour- 
 able to him, turned against him. The most indulgent called 
 him a fool, the most violent accused him of feigning poverty 
 and of withholding a part of his fortune from his creditors. 
 It is certain, however, that he had nothing, and only lived 
 on the bounty ]of Caesar, one of that small number who 
 remained true to him in his misfortune. Cicero did not 
 forget him either. He remembered that, at the time of his 
 exile, Rabirius had put his fortune at his disposal and paid 
 men to accompany him, and therefore he hastened to plead 
 for him when it was proposed to include him in the prose- 
 cution of Gabinius, and he succeeded at least in preserving 
 his honour and liberty. 
 
 One trait is missing in this description. Cicero tells us 
 in his speech that Rabirius was only moderately educated. 
 He had done so many things in his life that he had not had 
 time to think of learning, but this was not usual ; we know 
 that many of his colleagues, notwithstanding their not very 
 literary occupations, were none the less witty and lettered 
 men. Cicero, recommending a merchant of Thespiae to 
 Sulpicius, tells him : " He has a taste for our studies." 1 
 He looked upon Curius of Patras as one of those who had 
 best preserved the turn of the ancient Roman humour. 
 "Make haste and come back to Rome, he wrote him, 
 lest the seed of our native humour be lost."^ Those 
 knights who associated themselves in powerful companies 
 and farmed the taxes, were also men of wit and men of the 
 best society. Cicero, who came from their ranks, had con- 
 nection with almost all of them ; but it seems that he was 
 more especially connected with the company that farmed 
 
 ' Ad /am. xiii. 22. ^ Ibid. vii. 31. 
 
CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 the pasturages of Asia, and he says that it put itself under 
 his protection. 
 
 This protection was also extended to people who were 
 not Romans by birth. Foreigners, we can well understand, 
 regarded it as a great honour and security to be in any way 
 connected with an illustrious personage in Rome. They 
 could not be his clients, they wished to become his hosts. 
 At a time when there were so few convenient hotels in the 
 countries one passed through, it was necessary, when you 
 wished to travel, to have obliging friends who would consent 
 to receive you. In Italy, rich people bought little houses 
 where they passed the night on the roads they were accus- 
 tomed to travel ; but, elsewhere, they journeyed from one 
 host to another. To shelter a rich Roman in this way was 
 often a heavy expense. He always had a large train with 
 him. Cicero tells us that he met P. Vedius in the depths 
 of Asia " with two chariots, a carriage, a litter, horses, 
 numerous slaves, and, besides, a monkey on a little car, and 
 a number of wild asses." ^ Vedius was a comparatively un- 
 known Roman. One may judge of the suite that a pro- 
 consul and a praetor had when they went to take possession 
 of their provinces! However, although their passage ex- 
 hausted the house that received them, this ruinous honour 
 was solicited because numberless advantages were found 
 in securing their support. Cicero had hosts in ,all the 
 great cities of Greece and Asia, and they were almost always 
 the principal citizens. Kings themselves like Deiotarus 
 and Ariobarzanes considered themselves honoured by this 
 title. Important cities, Volaterrae, Atella, Sparta, Paphos 
 frequently claimed his protection and rewarded it with 
 public honours. He counted entire provinces, nations 
 almost, among his clients, and after the affair of Verres, for 
 1 AdAit.yu l. 
 
CICERO'S PRIVATE LIFE 
 
 instance, he was the defender and patron of Sicily. This 
 custom survived the republic, and in the time of Tacitus 
 orators of renown had still among their clients provinces 
 and kingdoms. It was the only mark of real distinction 
 that remained to eloquence. 
 
 These details, it seems to me, complete our knowledge 
 of what the life of an important person was at that time. 
 As long as we are satisfied with studying the few persons 
 who compose what we should now-a-days call his family, and 
 only see him with his wife and children, his life very much 
 resembles our own. The sentiments which are the found- 
 ation of human nature have not changed, and they always 
 lead to very nearly the same results. The cares which 
 troubled Cicero's domestic hearth, his joys and misfortunes, 
 are much like ours ; but as soon as we leave this limited 
 circle, when we replace the Roman among the crowd of 
 his servants and familiar friends, the difference between 
 that society and ours becomes manifest. Now-a-days life has 
 become more plain and simple. We have no longer those 
 immense riches, those extensive connections, nor that multi- 
 tude of people attached to our fortunes. What we call a great 
 retinue would scarcely have sufficed for one of those clerks 
 of the farmers of the revenue who went to collect the taxes 
 in some provincial town. A noble, or even a rich Roman 
 knight, did not cdntent himself with so little. When we 
 think of those armies of slaves they gathered together in 
 their houses and on their estates, of those freedmen who 
 formed a sort of court around them, of that multitude of 
 clients who encumbered the streets of Rome through which 
 they passed, of those hosts they had throughout the world, 
 of those cities and realms that implored their protection, 
 we can better understand the authority of their speech, the 
 haughtiness of their bearing, the breadth of their eloquence, 
 
122 CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 the gravity of their deportment, the feeling of personal 
 importance which they threw into all their actions and 
 speeches. It is here, above all, that the perusal of Cicero's 
 letters renders us a great service. They give us a notion 
 of lives lived on a scale such as we no longer know, and 
 thus help us to understand better the society of that time. 
 
ATTICUS 
 
 Of all Cicero's correspondents, none kept up a longer 
 or more regular intercourse with him than Atticus. Their 
 friendly relations lasted without interruption and without 
 a shadow till their death. They corresponded during the 
 shortest absences, and, when it was possible, more than once 
 a day. These letters, sometimes short to communicate a 
 passing reflection, sometimes long and studied, when events 
 were graver, playful or serious according to circumstances, 
 that were written in haste wherever the writers happened to 
 be, these letters reflect the whole life of the two friends. 
 Cicero characterized them happily when he said "They 
 were like a conversation between us two." Unfortunately, 
 at present, we hear only one of the speakers and the conver- 
 sation has become a monologue. In publishing his friend's 
 letters Atticus took good care not to add his own. No 
 doubt he did not wish his sentiments to be read too openly, 
 and his prudence sought to withhold from the public the 
 knowledge of his opinions and the secrets of his private 
 life ; but in vain he sought to hide himself, the voluminous 
 correspondence that Cicero kept up with him was sufficient 
 to make him known, and it is easy to form from it an exact 
 idea of the person to whom it is addressed. This person is 
 assuredly one of the most curious of an important epoch, 
 and deserves that we should take the trouble to study him 
 
 with some care. 
 
 123 
 
124 CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 I. 
 
 Atticus was twenty years old when the war between 
 Marius and Sulla began. He saw its beginnings and 
 nearly became its victim ; the tribune Sulpicius, one of the 
 chief heads of the popular party, and his relation, was put 
 to death with his partisans and friends by Sulla's orders, 
 and as Atticus often visited him he ran some risk. This 
 first danger decided his whole life. As, notwithstanding 
 his age, he had a firm and prudent mind, he did not allow 
 himself to be discouraged, but reconsidered his position. 
 If he had had hitherto some slight inclination towards 
 political ambition, and the idea of seeking public honours, 
 he gave them up without hesitation when he saw what a 
 price must sometimes be paid for them. He understood 
 that a republic, in which power could only be seized by 
 force, was lost, and that in perishing it was likely to drag 
 down with it those who had served it. He resolved then 
 to hold himself aloof from public affairs, and his whole 
 policy consisted henceforth in creating for himself a safe 
 position, outside of parties, and out of reach of danger. 
 
 Sieyes was asked one day : " What did you do during the 
 Terror ? " "What did I do ? " he answered ; « I Hved." That 
 was a great thing to do. Atticus did still more, he lived not 
 only during a terror of a few months, but during a terror of 
 several years. As if to test his prudence and ability, he was 
 placed in the most troubled period in history. He looked 
 on at three civil wars, he saw Rome four times invaded by 
 different leaders, and the massacres re-commence at each 
 new victory. He lived, not humble, unknown, allowing 
 himself to be forgotten in some distant town, but at Rome, 
 and in full publicity. Everything contributed to draw 
 
ATTICUS 125 
 
 attention to him ; he was rich, which was a sufficient cause 
 for being proscribed, he had a great reputation as a man of 
 wit, he willingly associated with the powerful, and, through 
 his connections at least, he was regarded as an important 
 person. Nevertheless, he was able to escape all the dangers 
 that his position and his wealth created for him, and even 
 contrived to become greater at each of those revolutions 
 which, it seemed, might have ruined him. Each change of 
 government, which hurled his friends from power, left him 
 richer and stronger, so that at last he found himself placed, 
 quite naturally, almost on a level with the new master. By 
 what miracle of cleverness, by what prodigy of skilful com- 
 binations did he succeed in living honoured, rich and 
 powerful at a time when it was so difficult to live at all ? It 
 was a problem full of difficulties ; this is how he solved it. 
 
 In view of the first massacres of which he had been a 
 witness, Atticus decided to take no part henceforth in 
 public affairs and parties ; but that is not so easy to do as 
 one might think, and the firmest resolution does not always 
 suffice for success. It is useless to declare that you wish 
 to remain neutral; the world persists in classing you ac- 
 cording to the name you bear, your family traditions, your 
 personal ties and the earlier manifestations of your pre- 
 ferences. Atticus understood that, in order to escape this 
 sort of forced enlistment and to throw public opinion off 
 the scent, it was necessary to leave Rome, and to leave it 
 for a long time. He hoped, by this voluntary exile, to regain 
 full possession of himself and break the ties that, against his 
 will, still bound him to the past. But, if he wished to with- 
 draw himself from the eyes of his fellow-citizens, he did not 
 intend to be forgotten by everybody. He meant to return ; 
 and did not wish to return as a stranger, no longer recognized, 
 and lose all the benefit of his early friendships. Thus he did 
 
126 CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 not choose for his retreat some distant estate, in an unknown 
 province, or one of those obscure towns on which the eyes of 
 the Roman people never fell. He retired to Athens, that is to 
 say, to the only city that had preserved a great renown, and 
 which still held a place in the admiration of the nations on 
 a level with Rome. There, by a few well-placed liberalities, 
 he drew to himself the affection of everybody. He distri- 
 buted corn to the citizens, he lent money without interest 
 to that city of men of letters, the finances of which were 
 always embarrassed. He did more, he flattered the Athenians 
 on their most sensitive side. He was the first Roman who 
 dared openly to declare his taste for the letters and arts of 
 Greece. Up to that time it had been the fashion among his 
 countrymen to esteem and cultivate the Greek muses in 
 private, and to laugh at them in public. Cicero himself, who 
 on so many occasions braved this stupid prejudice, dared 
 not appear to know off-hand the name of a great sculptor ; 
 but Cicero was a statesman for whom it was proper to show, 
 at least now and then, that haughty disdain for other 
 nations which partly constituted what is called the Roman 
 dignity. It was necessary to flatter this national weakness if 
 one wished to please the people. Atticus, who did not 
 mean to ask anything of them, was more free ; so he openly 
 laughed at these customs. Immediately on his arrival he 
 began to speak and write Greek, to openly frequent the 
 studios of sculptors and painters, to buy statues and pictures, 
 and to compose works on the fine arts. The Athenians 
 were as much delighted as surprised to see one of their con- 
 querors partake in their most cherished tastes, and thus 
 protest against the unjust disdain of the rest. Their grati- 
 tude, which was always very noisy, as we know, overwhelmed 
 Atticus with all sorts of flattery. Decrees in his honour were 
 multiplied, he was offered all the dignities of the city ; they 
 
A TTICUS 
 
 IT] 
 
 even wished to raise statues to him. Atticus hastened to 
 refuse everything; but the effect was produced, and the 
 report of such great popularity did not fail to reach Rome, 
 carried by those young men of high family who had just 
 finished their education in Greece. In this manner the reput- 
 ation of Atticus lost nothing by his absence ; people of taste 
 talked of this enlightened connoisseur of the arts who had 
 made himself remarked even at Athens; and during this 
 same time the politicians, no longer seeing him, lost the 
 habit of classing him with a political party. 
 
 This was an important step. There remained a more 
 important one to take. Atticus had seen betimes that to be 
 rich is the first condition of independence. This general 
 truth was even more evident at that time than at any other. 
 How many people were there whose conduct during the civil 
 wars can only be explained by the state of their fortunes ! 
 Curio had but one motive for serving Caesar, whom he did 
 not like, namely, the pressure of his creditors ; and Cicero 
 himself puts among the chief reasons that prevented him 
 going to Pompey's camp, whither all his sympathies called 
 him, the money that Caesar had lent him, and which he 
 could not repay. To escape embarrassments of this kind 
 and gain entire liberty, Atticus resolved to become rich, and 
 became so. It is of importance, I think, to give here a few 
 details to show how people got rich at Rome. His father 
 had left him a rather moderate fortune, two million sesterces 
 (jQ\(i, QQo). When he left Rome he sold almost all the 
 family property, that he might leave nothing behind to tempt 
 the proscribers, and bought an estate in Epirus, in that 
 country of large herds, where the land brought in so much. 
 It is probable he did not pay much for it. Mithridates 
 had just ravaged Greece, and, as there was no money, 
 everything went at a low price. This domain quickly 
 
128 CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 prospered under skilful management; new lands were 
 bought every year out of the surplus revenue, and Atticus 
 became one of the great landed proprietors of the country. 
 But is it likely that his wealth came to him solely through 
 the good management of his land ? He would have willingly 
 had this believed, in order to resemble somewhat in this 
 manner Cato and the Romans of the old school. Unluckily 
 for him, his friend Cicero betrays him. In reading this un- 
 reserved correspondence we are not long in perceiving that 
 Atticus had many other ways of enriching himself besides 
 the sale of his corn and herds. This skilful agriculturalist 
 was at the same time a clever trader, who carried on all 
 businesses successfully. He excelled in drawing a profit, not 
 only from the follies of others, which is common, but even 
 from his own pleasures, and his talent consisted in enriching 
 himself where others ruin themselves. We know for instance 
 that he was fond of fine books ; then, as now, this was a 
 very costly fancy, but he knew how to make it a source of 
 handsome profits. He collected in his house a large 
 number of skilful copyists whom he trained himself ; after 
 having made them work for him, when his passion was 
 satisfied he set them to work for others, and sold the books 
 they copied to the public very dear. He was thus a verit- 
 able publisher for Cicero, and as his friend's works sold well 
 it happened that this friendship, which was full of charm 
 for his heart, was not without use to his fortune.^ This 
 commerce might be avowed, and a friend to letters was not 
 forbidden to become a book-seller ; but Atticus engaged as 
 well in many transactions that ought to have been more 
 repugnant to him. As he saw the success that everywhere 
 
 ' I have endeavoured to prove this with more detail in a memoir 
 published by the Revue archiolo^que, entitled, Atticus, iditeur de . 
 Cidron. 
 
ATTIC us 129 
 
 attended gladiatorial fights, and that no festival took place 
 
 without one of these grand butcheries, he thought of raising 
 
 gladiators on his estates. He had them carefully instructed 
 
 in the art of dying gracefully, and hired them out at a high 
 
 rate to cities that wished to amuse themselves. ^ It must be 
 
 acknowledged that this is not a suitable trade for a scholar 
 
 and a philosopher; but the profits were large, and the 
 
 philosophy of Atticus was accommodating as soon as there 
 
 was a good profit to make. Besides, he was a banker when 
 
 the opportunity offered, and lent at a high rate of interest, 
 
 as the greatest nobles of Rome did without scruple. Only, 
 
 he was more circumspect than others, and took care to 
 
 appear as little as possible in the affairs that he conducted, 
 
 and he had, no doubt, in Italy and Greece, clever agents 
 
 who made the most of his capital. His business relations 
 
 extended throughout the world ; we know of his debtors in 
 
 Macedonia, Epirus, Ephesus and Delos, almost everywhere. 
 
 He lent to private persons ; he lent also to cities, but quite 
 
 secretly, for this business was then as little esteemed as it 
 
 was lucrative, and persons who took to it were not considered 
 
 either honest or scrupulous. So Atticus, who thought as 
 
 much of his reputation as of his fortune, would not let 
 
 any one know that he conducted this sort of business. He 
 
 carefully concealed it even from his friend Cicero, and we 
 
 should be ignorant of it now if he had not experienced some 
 
 untoward accidents in this risky business. Although usually 
 
 great profits were gained, some dangers also were run. 
 
 After having suffered the Roman domination for two 
 
 centuries, all the cities, allied and municipal, and especially 
 
 those of Asia, were completely ruined. They all had less 
 
 revenue than debts, and the proconsuls, combined with the 
 
 farmers of the taxes, carried off their resources so completely 
 
 that there was nothing left for the creditors to take, unless 
 
 1 Ad Att. iv. 4, 8. 
 
 K 
 
I30 CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 they exerted themselves. This is what happened once to 
 Atticus, notwithstanding his activity. We see that Cicero 
 rallies him in one of his letters about the siege he is going to 
 lay to Sicyon ; ^ this siege was evidently that of some recal- 
 citrant debtors ; Atticus never made any other campaigns ; 
 and, in truth, this one succeeded badly. While he thus 
 went to war against this unfortunate indebted town, the 
 senate took pity on it, and protected it by a decree against 
 its too exacting creditors, so that Atticus, who set out from 
 Epirus as a conqueror, with flying banners, was reduced, 
 says Cicero, when he had arrived under the walls, to extract 
 from the Sicyonians a few poor crowns (nummulorum 
 aliquii) by means of prayers and flatteries.^ We must, 
 however, suppose that Atticus was usually more lucky in the 
 investment of his funds, and by his well-known prudence we 
 are assured that he knew how to choose more solvent debtors. 
 All this business that he carried on would certainly soon 
 have made him very rich ; but he had no need to take so 
 much trouble, for while he was working so skilfully to make 
 his fortune it came to him ready made from another quarter. 
 He had an uncle, Q. Caecilius, who passed for the most 
 terrible usurer of Rome, where there were so many, and 
 who only consented to lend to his nearest relations, and as a 
 special favour, at the rate of one per cent, per month. He 
 was a hard, inflexible man, who had rendered himself so 
 hateful to everybody that the people could not be prevented 
 from outraging his corpse on the day of his funeral. Atticus 
 was the only person who had been able to get on with him. 
 Caecilius adopted him by will, and left him the greater 
 part of his property, ten million sesterces, a little more than 
 ;^8o,ooo. Henceforth his fortune was made, he was 
 independent of everybody, and free to follow his own 
 inclinations. 
 
 '^ Ad Att. i. 13. '^ Ibid.\. 19. 
 
ATTICUS 131 
 
 But was it not to be feared, that when he was back in 
 Rome, the resolution that he took to shun all ties would 
 have a bad look ? He could not decently pretend indififer- 
 ence or fear as a reason for keeping aloof from parties ; he 
 had to find a more honourable motive and one that he 
 might proclaim ; a school of philosophy furnished him with 
 it. The Epicureans, sacrificing everything to the con- 
 veniences of life, said that it was good to abstain from 
 public employments to avoid the worry they brought. " Do 
 not engage in politics," was their favourite maxim. Atticus 
 professed to be an Epicurean ; henceforth his abstention 
 had a plausible pretext, fidelity to the opinions of his sect, 
 and if he was blamed, the blame fell upon the whole school, 
 which always makes the share of each individual very light. 
 Was Atticus in reality a veritable and complete Epicurean ? 
 This is a question that the learned discuss, and that the 
 character of this personage easily permits us to solve. To 
 suppose that in anything whatever he attached himself 
 scrupulously to a school, and pledged himself to be a 
 faithful disciple of it, would be to know him ill. He had 
 studied them all for the pleasure that this study gave to his 
 inquisitive mind, but he was determined not to be a slave 
 to their systems. He had found a principle in the Epicurean 
 morals that suited him, and seized it in order to justify 
 his poHtical conduct. As to Epicurus himself and his 
 doctrine, he cared very little about them, and was ready to 
 abandon them on the first pretext. Cicero shows this very 
 pleasantly in a passage of the De Legibus. He represents 
 himself in this work chatting with Atticus on the banks of 
 the Fibrenus, under the delightful shades of Arpinum. As 
 he wishes to trace back the origin of laws to the gods, it 
 is necessary for him first to lay down that the gods con- 
 cern themselves with men, which the Epicureans denied. 
 He turns then to his friend, and says : " Do you admit, 
 
132 CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 Pomponius, that the power of the immortal gods, their reason, 
 their wisdom, or, if you like it better, their providence, rule 
 the universe? If you do not admit it I must begin by 
 demonstrating it. — Well then, replies Atticus, I admit it, 
 if you like, for thanks to these birds that are singing, and to 
 the murmuring of these brooks, I have no fear that any of 
 my fellow-disciples may hear me."^ Here is a very accom- 
 modating philosopher, and the school will not get very 
 much good from an adept who abandons it as soon as he 
 is sure that it will not be known. The character of Atticus 
 is here well seen. To embrace an opinion resolutely is to 
 pledge oneself to defend it, and to expose oneself to the 
 necessity of fighting for it. Now, philosophical quarrels, 
 although they be not bloody, are no less desperate than 
 others; this is war all the same, and Atticus wishes for 
 peace in all things, at least for himself. It is amusing to 
 examine the part that Cicero gives him in the philosophical 
 dialogues into which he introduces him. In general he 
 does not discuss, he incites to discussion. Inquisitive and 
 insatiable, he asks, he interrogates continually ; he compels 
 a reply, he raises objections, he animates the combatants, 
 and during this time he quietly enjoys the fight without ever 
 taking part in it. We shall see, by and by, that this was 
 exactly the part he took in politics. 
 
 Atticus remained twenty-three years away from Rome, 
 only visiting it at long intervals and usually remaining but a 
 very short time. When he thought that, by his long absence, 
 he was quite free from the ties that attached him to the 
 political parties, when he had gained independence with 
 wealth, when he had secured himself against all the 
 
 ' De Leg. i. 7. He is still faithful to this part of an amateur in 
 philosophy, when he says further on (i. 21), that Antiochus had made 
 him take a few steps in the Academy, deduxit in Academiam perpauculis 
 passibus. He never penetrated further. 
 
ATTIGUS 133 
 
 reproaches that might be made him on his conduct by giving 
 his prudence the appearance of a philosophical conviction, 
 he thought of returning definitively to Rome and- there 
 resuming his interrupted course of life. He chose a 
 moment for returning when all was calm, and, as if to break 
 entirely with his past, he came back with a new surname, 
 by which people soon learnt to call him. This name of 
 Atticus, which he brought back from Athens, seemed to 
 indicate clearly that he would only live henceforth for the 
 study of letters and the enjoyment of the arts. 
 
 From this moment he divided his time between residence 
 in Rome and in his country houses. He quietly wound up 
 his banking affairs, some of which were still standing over, 
 and took measures to hide from the public the sources of 
 his wealth. He kept only his estates in Epirus and his 
 houses in Rome, which brought him in a good deal, and 
 the profits of which he could acknowledge. His property 
 continued to increase, thanks to the way in which he 
 managed it. Besides, he had none of those weaknesses 
 which might have endangered it ; he did not care about 
 buying or building, he did not possess any of those splendid 
 villas at the gates of Rome or at the sea-side, the keeping 
 up of -which ruined Cicero. He still sometimes lent money, 
 but, as it appears, rather to oblige than to enrich himself. 
 He was careful, besides, to choose safe persons, and showed 
 himself without pity when debts fell due. This he did, 
 he said, in the interest of his debtors, for, in tolerating their 
 negligence he would encourage them to ruin themselves. 
 But he did not stand upon ceremony in dismissing those 
 with whom his money would have run some risk, even if they 
 were his nearest relations. Cicero, relating to him one day 
 that their common nephew, the young Quintus, had come 
 to him and tried to move him by the picture of his poverty, 
 ~added : " I took then something of your eloquence ; I 
 
134 CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 answered nothing." It was a good contrivance, and Atticus 
 must have employed it more than once with regard to his 
 brother-in-law and his nephew, who were always without 
 money. He had learnt how to make for himself a high 
 social position at small cost. He lived in his house on the 
 Quirinal — which was more spacious and commodious 
 within than handsome without, and which he repaired as 
 little as possible — among the works of art that he had 
 selected in Greece, and the lettered slaves whom he had 
 carefully trained himself, and whom everybody envied him. 
 He often assembled the cultivated people of Rome at feasts 
 where there was a great display of learning. His hospitality 
 did not cost much, if it is true, as Cornelius Nepos, who 
 had seen his accounts, asserts, that he only spent 3000 
 asses (;£^6) a month on his table.^ Cicero, always indis- 
 creet, relates that Atticus often served to his guests very 
 common vegetables on very costly dishes ; ^ but what did 
 it matter ? every one considered himself fortunate in taking 
 part in these select parties, where they heard Atticus talk 
 and Cicero's finest works read before they were published, 
 and it may be said that all the most distinguished persons 
 of that great period held it an honour to frequent that house 
 on the Quirinal. 
 
 II. 
 
 Of all the advantages of Atticus, one is most tempted to 
 envy him his good fortune in attaching to himself so many 
 friends. He took much trouble to do so. From his arrival 
 at Rome we see him busied in putting himself on good 
 terms with everybody, and using every means to please men 
 
 1 T. Pomp. Att. 13. All the preceding details are taken from the 
 life of Atticus by Cornelius Nepos. 
 
 2 Ad Att. vi. I. 
 
ATTIC us 135 
 
 of all parties. His birth, his wealth, and the manner in 
 which he had acquired it, drew him towards the knights ; 
 these rich farmers of the taxes were his natural friends, and 
 he soon enjoyed a great reputation among them ; but he was 
 not less connected with the patricians, usually so disdainful 
 of all who were not of their caste. He had taken the 
 surest means to conciliate them, which was to flatter their 
 vanity. He took advantage of his historical knowledge to 
 manufacture for them agreeable genealogies, in which he 
 made himself partaker in a good many lies, and supported 
 their most fanciful pretensions by his learning. This 
 example shows at once his knowledge of the world, and the 
 advantage he drew from it when he wished to gain the 
 friendship of anybody. We can see what a close observer 
 he must have been, and the talent that he had for seizing 
 and profiting by the weak side of people, merely by 
 considering the nature of the services that he rendered to 
 each person. He had proposed to Cato to undertake the 
 management of his affairs at Rome during his absence, and 
 Cato hastened to accept this : a steward of such capacity 
 was not to be despised by a man who cared so much for 
 his wealth. He had gratified the vain Pompey, by busying 
 himself in selecting in Greece some fine statues to ornament 
 the theatre he was building.^ As he well knew that Caesar 
 was not accessible to the same kind of flattery, and that, to 
 attract him, more real services were necessary, he lent him 
 money.2 Naturally, he attached himself by preference to 
 the heads of parties ; but he did not neglect others when 
 he could serve them. He carefully cultivated Balbus and 
 Theophanes, the confidants of Caesar and Pompey; he 
 even went sometimes to visit Clodius and his sister Clodia, 
 as well as other people of doubtful reputation. Having 
 neither rigid scruples like Cato, nor violent aversions like 
 * AdAtt. iv, 9. ^ Ibid. vi. i. 
 
136 CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 Cicero, he accommodated himself to everybody ; his good- 
 nature lent itself to everything ; he suited all ages as well as 
 all characters. Cornelius Nepos remarks with admiration, 
 that while yet very young he charmed the old Sulla, and that 
 when very old he could please the young Brutus. Atticus 
 formed a common link between all these men who were so 
 different in temper, rank, opinions, and age. He went con- 
 tinually from one to the other, as a sort of pacific ambassador, 
 trying to bring them together and unite them, for it was his 
 habit, says Cicero, to form friendships between others. ^ He 
 removed the suspicions and prejudices which prevented 
 them knowing one another ; he inspired them with the 
 desire to see each other and become intimate, and if, later, 
 any differences arose between them, he became their inter- 
 mediary, and brought about explanations which made them 
 friends again. His masterpiece in this line is to have 
 succeeded in reconciling Hortensius and Cicero, and 
 making them live amicably together notwithstanding the 
 violent jealousy that separated them. What trouble must 
 he not have had to calm their irritable vanity, which was 
 always ready to fly out, and which fate seemed to take pleasure 
 in exciting still more, by putting them in constant rivalry ! 
 
 All these acquaintanceships of Atticus were certainly not 
 real friendships. He visited many of these personages only 
 for the advantage that his safety or his wealth might draw 
 from them ; but there are a great number of others who 
 were really his friends. To confine ourselves to the most 
 important, Cicero loved no one so much as he did him ; 
 Brutus showed him an unreserved confidence to the last, 
 and on the eve of Philippi wrote him his last confidences. 
 There remain too many striking proofs of these two illus- 
 trious friendships for them to be called in question, and we 
 must admit that he was able to inspire a lively affection in 
 ' Ad Att. vii. 8 ; soles conglutinare amicitias. 
 
ATTICUS 137 
 
 two of the noblest minds of that time. At first we are very 
 much surprised at this. His prudent reserve, that openly 
 avowed determination to keep clear of all entanglements in 
 order to escape all danger, ought, as it seems, to have kept 
 aloof from him men of conviction who sacrificed fortune and 
 life for their opinions. By what merit was he nevertheless 
 able to attach them to himself? How was a man so taken 
 up with himself and so careful of his interests able to enjoy 
 so fully the pleasures of friendship, which seem at first sight, 
 to exact devotedness and self-forgetfulness ? How did he 
 succeed in making the moralists, who assert that egotism is 
 the death of true affection, belie themselves P^ 
 
 This is still one of those problems of which the life of 
 Atticus is full, and it is the most difficult to solve. Seen 
 from a distance, even through the praises of Cicero, Atticus 
 does not seem attractive, and one would not be tempted to 
 choose him for a friend. And yet it is certain that those 
 who lived with him did not judge him as we do. They 
 loved him, and felt themselves from the first inclined to love 
 him. That general good-will that he inspired, that deter- 
 mination of every one to pardon or not to see his defects, 
 those lively friendships that he called forth, are evidences 
 that it is impossible to resist, whatever surprise they may 
 cause us. There was, then, about this personage something 
 else than we see ; he must have possessed a kind of attrac- 
 tion that is inexplicable to us, which was personal to him, 
 and which has disappeared with him. For this reason it 
 is no longer possible for us to understand thoroughly that 
 strange attraction that he exercised at first sight on all his 
 contemporaries. We can, however, form some idea of it, 
 and the writers who knew him, especially Cicero, give a 
 glimpse of some of those brilliant or solid qualities by which 
 
 1 It is the saying of Tacitus : pessimum veri affectus venerium sua 
 cuique utilitas. 
 
138 CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 he gained over those who approached him. I shall enumer- 
 ate them according to their testimony, and if they still do not 
 seem sufficient to justify altogether the number of his friend- 
 ships and their ardour, we must join to them in thought 
 that personal charm that it is impossible now to define or 
 recover because it vanished with himself. * 
 
 Firstly, he had a good deal of cultivatidn, everybody agrees 
 about that, and a sort of cultivation especially agreeable to 
 the society that he frequented. He was not solely one of 
 those pleasant triflers who charm for a moment on a passing 
 acquaintance, but who have not the qualifications for a 
 longer connection. He was a person of many attainments 
 and solid knowledge ; not that he was a man of deep learn- 
 ing, this title is not a great recommendation in the intercourse 
 of society ; Cicero thought that people like Varro, who are 
 perfect mines of knowledge, are not always amusing, and 
 relates that when the latter came to see him at Tusculum 
 he did not tear his mantle in trying to retain him.^ But, 
 without being really a scholar, Atticus had touched on 
 everything in his studies, the fine arts, poetry, grammar, 
 philosophy, and history. Upon all these subjects he pos- 
 sessed just and sometimes original ideas ; he could discuss 
 matters with learned men without too great disadvantage, 
 and he always had some curious detail to tell those who were 
 not so. Pascal would have called him a cultivated gentleman 
 (honntte homme) ; in everything he was an intelligent and 
 enlightened amateur. Now, for several reasons, the know- 
 ledge that an amateur acquires is of the kind most current 
 in society. Firstly, as he does not study according to rule, 
 he interests himself above all in curiosities ; he learns by 
 preference racy and novel details, and it is precisely these 
 that people of society want to know. Besides, the very 
 multiplicity of the studies which tempt him, prevents him 
 
 1 Ad Att. xiii. 33. 
 
A TTICUS 139 
 
 exhausting any ; his caprice always carries him off elsewhere 
 before he has thoroughly examined anything. The result 
 is that he knows a great many things, and always within the 
 limits in which it pleases men of the world to know them. 
 In fact, the characteristic of the amateur is to do everything, 
 even what he only does for a moment, with enthusiasm. 
 As it is a personal taste that draws him to his studies, and 
 as he only continues them as long as they interest him, his 
 language is more lively when he speaks of them, his tone 
 freer and more original, and consequently more agreeable, 
 than that of scholars by profession. Such is the notion we 
 must form of the learning of Atticus. It was too extensive 
 for his conversation ever to become monotonous ; it was not 
 deep enough to run the risk of being tedious ; it was, in 
 fine, living, for when things are done with enthusiasm it is 
 natural to speak of them with interest. This is what made 
 his conversation so attractive, and this is how he charmed 
 the most fastidious and least favourably disposed minds. He 
 was still quite young when the aged Sulla, who had no reason 
 to like him, met him at Athens. He took so much pleasure 
 in hearing him read Greek and Latin verses and talk about 
 literature, that he would not leave him, and wished by all 
 means to take him back with him to Rome. Long after, 
 Augustus felt the same charm ; he was never tired of hearing 
 Atticus talk, and when he could not go to see him, he wrote 
 to him every day simply to receive his answers, and thus to 
 continue, in some sort, those long conversations with which 
 he was so delighted. 
 
 We can imagine, then, that the first time people met this 
 accomplished man they felt themselves drawn towards him 
 by the charm of his conversation. In proportion as he was 
 better known, other and more solid qualities were discovered, 
 which retained those whom his culture had attracted. In 
 the first place there was a great security in his intercourse. 
 
HO CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 Although he was connected with people holding very diverse 
 opinions, and though, through them, he had the secrets of 
 all parties, he was never reproached with having betrayed 
 these to anybody. We cannot see that he ever furnished a 
 serious cause to any of his friends to keep aloof from him, 
 or that any of his connections were broken otherwise than by 
 death. This intercourse, so secure, was at the same time 
 very easy. No one was ever more indulgent and accommodat- 
 ing. He took care not to weary by his demands or to re- 
 pulse by bluntness. Those storms which so often troubled 
 the friendship of Cicero and Brutus were not to be feared in 
 his. It was rather one of those calm and uniform intimacies 
 which grow stronger from day to day by their regular con- 
 tinuance. It was this especially that must have charmed 
 those politicians who were oppressed and fatigued by that 
 bustling activity which used up their lives. On coming out 
 of this whirlwind of business, they were happy to find, at a 
 few paces from the Forum, that peaceful house on the Quirinal 
 into which outside quarrels did not enter, and to go and 
 chat for a moment with that even-tempered and accom- 
 plished man who always received them with the same smile, 
 and in whose good-will they had such a tranquil confidence. 
 But nothing, assuredly, could have won him so many 
 friends as his readiness to oblige them. This was inex- 
 haustible, and it could not be asserted that it was interested, 
 since, contrary to custom, he gave much and demanded no- 
 thing. Here again is one of the reasons why his friendships 
 were so, lasting, for it is always this sort of interchange that 
 we think we have a right to demand, and the comparisons 
 that we make, in spite of ourselves, between good offices 
 which we render and those which we receive, which in 
 the end disturb the most firm friendships. Atticus, who 
 knew this well, had so contrived as to have need of no- 
 body. He was rich, he never had law-suits, he did not 
 
ATTIC us 141 
 
 seek public employments, so that a friend who was deter- 
 mined to recompense the services he had received could 
 never find the opportunity,^ and remained always under 
 obligations to him, and his debt continued to increase, for 
 Atticus never wearied of being useful. We have an easy 
 means of appreciating the extent of this serviceable.ness, to 
 see it close, and, so to say at work, namely, to rapidly recall 
 the services of all sorts that he had rendered Cicero during 
 their long intimacy. Cicero had much need of a friend 
 like Atticus. He was one of those clever men who cannot 
 reckon ; when his account-books were presented to him he 
 would gladly have said, like his pupil, Pliny the Younger, 
 that he was used to another sort of literature : aliis sum 
 chartts, aliis litteris initiatus. Atticus became his man of 
 business ; we know his talent for this profession. He leased 
 Cicero's property very dear, saved as much as he could out 
 of the income and paid the most pressing debts. When 
 he discovered new ones, he dared to scold his friend, who 
 hastened to reply very humbly that he would be more care- 
 ful for the future. Atticus, who did not much believe this, 
 set to work to make up the deficit. He went to see the 
 wealthy Balbus or the other great bankers of Rome with 
 whom he had business relations. If the calamities of the 
 times made it difficult to get credit, he did not hesitate to 
 dip into his own purse. Those who know him will not think 
 this generosity without merit. When Cicero wished to buy 
 some estate, Atticus at first would get angry ; but if his friend 
 did not give way, he quickly went to visit it and discuss the 
 price. If it was a question of building some elegant villa, 
 Atticus lent his architect, corrected the plans, and overlooked 
 
 1 It must be remarked, however, that the last letter that we have from 
 Cicero to Atticus (xvi. i6) contains a proof of the very active steps that 
 Cicero took to save a part of the fortune of Atticus which was endangered 
 after the death of Caesar. 
 
142 CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 the work. When the house was built, it had to be adorned, 
 and Atticus would send to Greece for statues. He excelled 
 in selecting them, and Cicero was inexhaustible in his praises 
 of the Hermathenae in Pentelican marble that he had pro- 
 cured for him. In a villa of Cicero, we can well understand 
 that the library was not forgotten, and it was from Atticus 
 again that the books came. He traded in them, and kept 
 the handsomest for his friend. The books being bought, it 
 was necessary to arrange them, so Atticus sent his librarian 
 Tyrannion with his workmen, who painted the shelves, 
 pasted together the detached leaves of papyrus, put the labels 
 on the rolls, and arranged the whole in such good order that 
 Cicero, enchanted, wrote : " Since Tyrannion has arranged 
 my books one would say that the house has a soul.''^ 
 
 But Atticus did not stop at these services, which we 
 might call external ; he penetrated into the home, he knew 
 all its secrets. Cicero kept nothing from him, and confided 
 to him unreservedly all his domestic griefs. He tells him 
 about the violent temper of his brother and the follies of his 
 nephew ; he consults him on the vexations that his wife and 
 son cause him. When TuUia was of an age to marry, it was 
 Atticus who sought her a husband. The one he proposed 
 was the son of a rich and well-conducted knight. " Return," 
 he said sagely to Cicero, "return to your old flock." Un- 
 fortunately he was not listened to. They preferred to the 
 rich financier a broken-down nobleman, who squandered 
 Tullia's dowry and forced her to leave him. When Tullia 
 was dead, of grief perhaps, Atticus went to the nurse's to 
 visit the little child she had left, and took care that it wanted 
 for nothing. At the same time Cicero gave him plenty of 
 occupation with his two divorces. After he had divorced 
 his first wife, Terentia, it was Atticus whom he charged to 
 get her to make a will in his favour. It was to him also 
 1 Ad Alt. iv. 8. 
 
ATTICUS 143 
 
 that he gave the disagreeable commission to remove the 
 second, PubHHa, when she was determined to forcibly re- 
 enter the home of her husband, who would have nothing 
 more to do with her. 
 
 These are doubtless great services; he rendered others 
 still more delicate, still more appreciated. It was to him 
 that Cicero entrusted what was most dear to him in the 
 world, his literary glory. He communicated his works to 
 him as soon as he had written them, he took his advice in 
 making corrections, and waited for his decision to publish 
 them. Thus he treated him as a friend with whom one 
 feels at home, and to whom one unbosoms oneself com- 
 pletely. Although he was eager that his eloquence should 
 be taken seriously, when he was sure of being heard by 
 Atticus only, he made no scruple of joking about himself 
 and his works. He introduced him without reserve to all 
 the secrets of the craft, and showed him the receipts for his 
 most popular effects. "This time, said he gaily, I em- 
 ployed the whole scent-box of Isocrates, and all the caskets 
 of the disciples." ^ Nothing can be more curious than the 
 way in which he related to him one day, one of his greatest 
 oratorical successes. It was a question of celebrating the fame 
 of the great consulship, a subject upon which, as we know, 
 he was inexhaustible. That day he had a reason for speaking 
 with more brilliancy than usual. Pompey was present ; now 
 Pompey had the weakness to be jealous of Cicero's glory. < 
 It was a good opportunity to enrage him, and Cicero took 
 care not to neglect it. " When my turn came to speak, he 
 writes to Atticus, immortal gods! what rein I gave my- 
 self ! What pleasure I took in loading myself with praises 
 in the presence of Pompey, who had never heard me extol 
 my consulship ! If I ever called to my aid periods, en- 
 thymemes, metaphors, and all the other figures of rhetoric, 
 1 Ad Att. ii. I. 
 
144 CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 it was then. I did not speak, I shouted, for it was a 
 question of my stock subjects, the wisdom of the senate, 
 the good-will of the knights, the union of all Italy, the 
 smothered remains of the conspiracy, peace and plenty re- 
 established, etc. You know my thunders when I speak of 
 these subjects. They were so fine that day that I have no 
 need to tell you more about them; you may often have 
 heard the like at Athens ! " ^ It is impossible to quiz one- 
 self with greater lightheartedness. Atticus repaid these 
 confidences by the trouble he took for the success of his 
 friend's works. As he had seen their birth, and had busied 
 himself with them before they were known to the public, he 
 almost regarded himself as their parent. It was he who 
 took upon himself to start them in the world and make 
 them succeed. Cicero says that he was admirably well 
 skilled in this, and it does not surprise us. The means he 
 most frequently employed to create a good opinion of them, 
 was to have the finest passages read by his best readers to 
 the clever men whom he assembled round his table. Cicero, 
 who knew the usual frugality of his repasts, begged him to 
 deviate from it a little on these occasions. " Have a care, 
 he writes to him, to treat your guests well, for if they are 
 in a bad humour with you, they will vent it on me." ^ It 
 was natural that Cicero should be extremely grateful for all 
 these services ; but it would be judging him ill to suppose 
 that he was only attached to him for the benefits he received 
 from him. He really loved him, and all his letters are full 
 of evidences of the most sincere affection. He was always 
 happy with him ; he was never tired of associating with 
 him ; he had scarcely left him than he ardently wished to 
 see him again. " May I die, he wrote to him, if either 
 my house at Tusculum, where I feel so comfortable, or the 
 Isles of the Blest could please me without you ! " ^ What- 
 
 ' Ad Att. i. 14. 2 Ji/id -xyi. 3. 3 Md. xii. 3. 
 
ATTIC us 145 
 
 ever pleasure he experienced at being filed, applauded, 
 flattered, at having around him an obsequious and admiring 
 multitude, in the midst of this crowd and noise he always 
 turned with regret towards his absent friend. " With all 
 these people, he tells him, I feel myself more alone than 
 if I had only you." ^ All these people, in fact, are composed 
 of political friends who change with circumstances, whom a 
 common interest brings to you, and a rival ambition takes 
 away again ; with them Cicero is obliged to be reserved and 
 careful, which is a torture for such an open-hearted nature. 
 On the other hand, he can tell Atticus everything, and 
 confide in him without restraint. So he hastens to demand 
 his presence when the least annoyance happens to him. 
 " I want you, he writes to him, I have need of you, I am 
 waiting for you. I have a thousand things that disturb and 
 vex me, and a single walk with you will relieve me." ^ We 
 should never end if we were to collect all those charming 
 expressions of which the correspondence is full, and in 
 which his heart plainly speaks. They leave no doubt 
 about Cicero's feelings ; they prove that he regarded Atticus 
 not only as one of those steadfast and serious friends on 
 whose support he could count, but also, which is more 
 surprising, as a sensitive and tender soul : " You take your 
 share, he tells him, in all the troubles of others." ^ 
 
 Here is something far removed from the notion we 
 usually have of him, and yet we cannot resist such clear 
 testimony. How can we contend that he had only a 
 doubtful affection for his friends when we see all his friends 
 contented with it ? Are we to be more exacting than they, 
 and would it not be wronging men like Brutus and Cicero 
 to suppose that they had been dupes so long without per- 
 ceiving it? On the other hand, how can we explain the 
 fact that posterity, which only judges by the documents 
 
 1 Ad Att. xil. 51. ^ Ibid. i. 18. ' Ibid. xii. 14. 
 
 L 
 
146 CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 that the friends of Atticus have furnished it, draws from 
 these very documents an opinion quite the reverse of that 
 held by them ? Evidently it is because posterity and con- 
 temporaries do not judge men from the same stand-point. 
 We have seen that Atticus, who had made a rule not to 
 engage in public affairs, did not think himself obliged to 
 partake the dangers that his friends might run, through 
 having taken part in them. He left them both the 
 honours and the perils. Sensitive, obliging, devoted to 
 them in the ordinary business of life, when a great political 
 crisis occurred that compromised them, he stood aside, and 
 left them to expose themselves alone. Now, when we look 
 at the facts from a distance, and are separated from them, 
 as we are, by several centuries, we only perceive the most 
 important events, and especially the political revolutions, 
 that is to say, precisely those circumstances with which the 
 friendship of Atticus had nothing to do. Hence the severe 
 judgment we pronounce upon it. But his contemporaries 
 judged otherwise. Those great crises are, after all, but rare 
 and passing exceptions ; without doubt contemporaries are 
 much struck by them, but they are still more impressed by 
 those numberless small incidents which make up everyday 
 life, and which posterity does not perceive. They judge of a 
 man's friendship by those services which are rendered every 
 moment, and which are important by their mere number, 
 much more than by any exceptional service which may be 
 given on one of these great and rare occasions. This 
 accounts for the fact that they had an opinion of Atticus so 
 different from ours. 
 
 It is, beyond doubt, one of the characteristic traits ot 
 this person, that it was a necessity to him to have many 
 friends, and that he took trouble to attract and retain them. 
 We may refuse to admit, if we will, that this need was, with 
 him, the effect of a generous and sympathetic nature, that 
 
ATTIC us 147 
 
 it came from what Cicero admirably calls " the impulse of 
 the soul that desires to love ; " but, even supposing that he 
 only thought of occupying and filling up his life, we must 
 acknowledge that to fill it up in this manner is not a mark 
 of a vulgar nature. This refined Epicurean, this master in 
 the art of living at ease, knew "that life is no longer life if 
 we cannot repose on the affection of a friend." ^ He had 
 given up the excitement of political strife, the triumphs of 
 eloquence, the joys of satisfied ambition, but, as a com- 
 pensation, he was determined to enjoy all the pleasures of 
 private life. The more he confined and limited himself to 
 it, the more particular and refined he became with regard 
 to the pleasures it could give ; as he had only left himself 
 these, he wished to enjoy them fully, to relish them, to live 
 on them. He needed friends, and among them the greatest 
 minds, the noblest souls of his time. He expended all that 
 energy which he did not employ in anything else, in procuring 
 for himself those pleasures of society that Bossuet calls the 
 greatest good of human life. Atticus enjoyed this good 
 even beyond his desires, and friendship generously repaid 
 him for all the trouble he had taken for it. It was his 
 single passion; he was able to satisfy it completely, and 
 friendship, after having adorned his life, has shed a lustre on 
 his name. 
 
 III. 
 
 Atticus appears in a favourable light in private life. He 
 is less fortunate when we study the course he followed in 
 public affairs. On this point he has not been spared blame, 
 and it is not easy to defend him. 
 
 We should not however be very unfavourable to him if 
 
 1 Cui potest esse vita vitalis, ut ait Ennius, qui non in amici mutua 
 benevokntia conquiescat ? (Cicero, De Amicit. 6. ) 
 
CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 we judged his conduct entirely according to the ideas of 
 our days. Opinion has become less severe now on those 
 who openly make profession of living apart from politics. 
 So many men aspire to govern their country, and it has 
 become so difficult to make choice among this multitude, 
 that we are tempted to look kindly upon those who have 
 not this ambition. Far from being blamed, they are called 
 moderate and wise ; they form an exception which is en- 
 couraged in order to lessen the number of aspirants. At 
 Rome they thought otherwise, and it is not difficult to find 
 reasons for this difference. There, what we may call the 
 political body was in reality very circumscribed. Besides 
 the slaves, who did not count, and the common people, who 
 contented themselves with giving or rather selling their 
 votes in the elections, and whose greatest privilege it was 
 to be entertained at the expense of the candidates, and fed 
 at the expense of the public treasury, there remained only 
 a few families of ancient lineage or more recent celebrity 
 who divided all public employments among themselves. 
 The aristocracy of birth and of fortune was not very 
 numerous, and scarcely sufficed to furnish the required 
 number of officials of all sorts to govern the world. It was 
 necessary therefore that no one should refuse to take his 
 part, and to live in retirement was considered a desertion. 
 It is not the same in our democracy. As all offices are 
 open to everybody, and as, thanks to the diffusion of 
 education, men worthy to occupy them may arise in all 
 ranks, we need no longer fear lest the absence of a few 
 quiet people, friends of peace and repose, will make a 
 sensible and regrettable gap in the serried ranks of those 
 who struggle from all quarters for power. Moreover, we 
 think now that there are many other ways of serving one's 
 country besides public life. Romans of high birth knew 
 no other; they looked upon commerce as a not very 
 
ATTIC us 149 
 
 honourable means ^ that a private man might employ to 
 make his fortune, and did not see what the state might 
 gain by it ; literature seemed an agreeable but trivial 
 pastime, and they did not understand its social importance. 
 It follows that among them, a man of a certain rank could 
 only find one honourable mode of employing his activity 
 and being useful to his country, namely, to fill political 
 offices.^ To do anything else was, according to their ideas, 
 to do nothing ; they gave the name of idlers to the most 
 laborious scholars, and it did not come into their heads 
 that there was anything worth the trouble of occupying a 
 citizen's time beyond the service of the state. All the ancient 
 Romans thought thus, and they would have experienced a 
 strange surprise if they had seen any one claim the 
 right, as Atticus did, not to serve his country within the 
 limits of his powers and talents. Assuredly Cato, who 
 never rested, and who, at ninety years of age, bravely 
 quitted his villa at Tusculum to go and accuse Servius 
 Galba, the butcher of the Lusitanians, would have thought 
 that to remain in his house on the Quirinal, or on his estate 
 in Epirus in the midst of his books and statues, while the 
 fate of Rome was being decided in the Forum or at 
 Pharsalia, was to commit the same crime as to remain in 
 his tent on the day of battle. 
 
 This systematic abstention of Atticus was not, then, a 
 Roman custom; he had it from the Greeks. In those 
 small ungovernable republics of Greece, where they knew 
 no repose, and which passed constantly and without warning 
 from the sternest tyranny to the most unbridled licence, we 
 can understand that quiet and studious men should have 
 
 1 T. Liv. xxi. 63 : Quaestus omnibus iMtribus indecorus visus. 
 
 '^ Scipio says so in the Republic (i. 22) : Quum mihi sit unum opus 
 hoc a parentibus majoribusque meis relictum, atque administratio rei 
 publicae, etc. 
 
ISO CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 grown weary of all this sterile agitation, and ceased to desire 
 public employments which were only obtained by flattering 
 the capricious multitude, and only kept on condition of 
 obeying it. Moreover, what value could this power, so 
 hardly acquired, so seldom preserved, have, when it was 
 necessary to share it with the most obscure demagogues ? 
 was it really worth while to take so much trouble in 
 order to become the successor or the colleague of Cleon ? 
 At the same time that weariness and disgust kept honour- 
 able men aloof from these paltry struggles, philosophy, more 
 studied every day, communicated to its disciples a sort of 
 pride which led them to the same result. Men who passed 
 their time in meditating upon God and the world, and who 
 endeavoured to understand the laws that govern the uni- 
 verse, did not deign to descend from these heights to 
 govern states a few leagues square. Thus they constantly 
 discussed in the schools, whether a man should occupy 
 himself with public affairs, whether the sage ought to seek 
 public office, and whether the active or the contemplative 
 life was the better. A few philosophers hesitatingly gave 
 the preference to active life, the greater number sustained 
 the opposite opinion, and under cover of these discussions 
 many men thought themselves authorized to create a sort 
 of elegant indolence in voluptuous retreats embeUished by 
 letters and the arts, where they lived happily while Greece 
 was perishing. 
 
 Atticus followed their example. Importing this custom 
 from Greece into Rome, he openly announced his resolution 
 not to take part in political discussions. He began by 
 adroitly keeping aloof during all those quarrels that con- 
 tinually agitated Rome from the time of Cicero's consulship 
 to the civil wars. At the very moment when these struggles 
 were most active he frequented all parties, he had friends on 
 all sides, and found in tliese widespread friendships a new 
 
ATTIC us iji 
 
 pretext for remaining neutral. Atticus was more than sixty 
 years old when Caesar passed the Rubicon, an age when 
 the obligation of military service ceased among the Romans. 
 This was another reason for remaining quiet, and he did 
 not fail to use it. "I have taken my discharge," i he 
 replied to those who wished to enrol him. He held the 
 same course, and with the same success, after the death of 
 Caesar ; but he then disappointed public opinion still more. 
 He was so well known to be the friend of Brutus that it was 
 thought he would not hesitate to take his side this time. 
 Cicero himself, who ought to have known him, reckoned 
 upon it ; but Atticus was not inconsistent with himself, and 
 took advantage of an important occasion to let the public 
 know that he would not be drawn in against his will. 
 While Brutus was raising an army in Greece, some knights, 
 his friends, started the idea of raising a subscription 
 among the richest men of Rome to give him the means of 
 maintaining his soldiers. They applied at first to- Atticus, 
 whose name they wished to put at the head of the list. 
 Atticus bluntly refused to subscribe. He answered that 
 his fortune was at the service of Brutus, if he had need of 
 it, and asked him as a friend, but he declared at the same 
 time that he would take no part in a political manifestation, 
 and his refusal caused the failure of the subscription. At 
 the same time, true to his habit of flattering all parties, 
 he welcomed Fulvia, Antony's wife, as well as Volumnius 
 the superintendent of his workmen, and, sure of having 
 friends everywhere, he waited for the result of the struggle 
 without much fear. 
 
 The strangest thing is that this man, while so per- 
 sistent in remaining neutral, was not indifferent. His bio- 
 grapher gives him this praise, that he always belonged to 
 the best party,^ and that is true ; only he made it a rule not 
 
 1 Corn. Nep. Attic. 7 : Usus es aetatis vacatione. ^ Nep. Attic. 6. 
 
152 CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 to serve his party ; he was contented with giving it his 
 good wishes. But these good wishes were the warmest 
 imaginable. He had, though we should scarcely believe 
 it, political passions which he dared to express in private 
 with incredible vigour. He hated Caesar so much that he 
 went as far as to blame Brutus for having permitted his 
 interment.! He would have wished, no doubt, as the most 
 furious demanded, that his corpse should be thrown into the 
 Tiber. Thus he did not abstain from having preferences, 
 and showing them to his most intimate friends. His reserve 
 only began when it was necessary to act. He never con- 
 sented to take part in the struggle ; but if he did not share 
 its danger he felt at least all its excitement. We smile at 
 seeing him become animated and excited as if he were a 
 real combatant; he takes his share in all successes and 
 all reverses, he congratulates the energetic, he entreats 
 the lukewarm, and even scolds the faltering, and permits 
 himself to advise and reprimand those who seem to him, who 
 did not act at all, to act too languidly. It is amusing to 
 hear the reproaches he addresses to Cicero when he sees 
 him hesitating to go and join Pompey ; he adopts the most 
 pathetic tone, he reminds him of his actions and his words, 
 he entreats him in the name of his glory, he quotes his 
 own words to him to persuade him.^ This excess of 
 audacity into which he allows himself to be drawn for 
 others, sometimes produces rather comic incidents. At 
 the moment when Pompey had just shut himself up in 
 Brundusium, Atticus, moved by the most lively grief, wished 
 for some attempts to be made to save him, and went so 
 far as to ask Cicero to do some striking action before 
 leaving. " It only requires a banner, said he, every one 
 will flock to it." ^ The worthy Cicero felt himself quite 
 excited by these lively exhortations of his friend, and there 
 ^ Ad Atl. y&w. 10. ^Ibid.m\.2. ^ Ibid. x. 1$. 
 
ATTIC us 153 
 
 were times when he was tempted to be bold, and when he 
 only demanded the opportunity to strike a heavy blow. 
 The opportunity came, and he relates in the following 
 words how he took advantage of it. " As I arrived at my 
 house at Pompeii, your friend Ninnius came to tell me that 
 the centurions of three cohorts who were there, asked to see 
 me the next day, as they wished to deliver up the place to 
 me. Do you know what I did ? I went away before day- 
 light in order not to see them. What are, in fact, three 
 cohorts ? And if there had been more, what should I have 
 done with them?"i This was speaking like a prudent 
 man and one who knows himself well. As for Atticus we 
 ask whether he were really sincere in the ardour that he 
 showed for his cause when we see him obstinately refuse to 
 serve it. Those grand passions that confine themselves 
 so prudently in the breast, and never show themselves out- 
 wardly, are with good reason suspected. Perhaps he only 
 wished to enliven a little that part of spectator that he 
 had reserved for himself by taking part, up to a certain 
 point, in the excitement of the struggle. The wise man of 
 Epicunis always remains on the serene heights whence he 
 tranquilly enjoys the view of shipwrecks and the spectacle 
 of human conflicts ; but he enjoys them from too far off, 
 and the pleasure that he feels is diminished by the distance. 
 Atticus is more skilful and understands his pleasure better ; 
 he goes into the midst of the fight itself, he sees it close, and 
 takes part in it, while always sure that he will retire in time. 
 The only difficulty he found was to make everybody 
 accept his neutrality. This difficulty was so much the 
 greater for him as his conduct especially offended those 
 whose esteem he was the most anxious to preserve. The 
 republican party, which he preferred, and in which he 
 reckoned most friends, was much less inclined to pardon 
 1 Ad Ait. X. 16. 
 
154 CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 him than that of Caesar. In antiquity itself, and still more 
 in our days, great praise has been bestowed on that saying 
 of Caesar at the beginning of the civil war : " He who is 
 not against me is for me," and the contrary saying of 
 Pompey has been much blamed : " He who is not for me 
 is against me." However, looking at things fairly, this 
 praise and this blame appear equally unreasonable. Each 
 of the two rivals, when he expressed himself thus, speaks in 
 character, and their words were suggested by their position. 
 Caesar, however we may judge him, came to overturn the 
 established order, and he naturally was grateful to those 
 who gave him a free hand. What more could he reasonably 
 ask of them? In reality, those who did not hinder him 
 served him. But lawful order, established order, considers 
 it has the right to call upon every one to defend it, and to 
 regard as enemies all who do not respond to its appeal, for 
 it is a generally recognized principle that he who does not 
 bring help to the law when openly attacked before him, 
 makes himself the accomplice of those who violate it. It 
 was, then, natural that Caesar, on arriving at Rome, should 
 welcome Atticus and those who had not gone to Pharsalia, 
 as it was also that those in Pompey 's camp should be 
 very much irritated against them. Atticus was not much 
 moved by this anger : he let them talk, those thoughtless 
 and fiery young men who could not console themselves for 
 having left Rome, and who threatened to avenge themselves 
 on those who had remained. What did these menaces 
 matter to him ? He was sure that he had preserved the 
 esteem of the two most important and most respected men 
 of the party, and he could oppose their testimony to all the 
 indignation of the rest. Cicero and Brutus, notwithstanding 
 the strength of their convictions, never blamed him for his 
 conduct, and they appear to have approved of his not 
 taking part in public affairs. " I know the honourable and 
 
ATTIC us 155 
 
 noble character of your sentiments, said Cicero to him 
 one day when Atticus thought it necessary to defend him- 
 self ; there is only one difference between us, and that is, that 
 we have arranged our lives differently. I know not what 
 ambition made me desire public office, while motives in 
 no way blameworthy have made you seek an honourable 
 leisure ! " ^ Again, Brutus wrote to him towards the end of 
 his life : " I am far from blaming you, Atticus; your age, your 
 character, your family, everything makes you love repose." ^ 
 This good-will on the part of Brutus and Cicero is so 
 much the more surprising, as they knew very well the 
 mischief such an example might do to the cause that they 
 defended. The republic did not perish by the audacity of 
 its enemies alone, but also by the apathy of its partisans. 
 The sad spectacle it offered for iifty years, the public sale of 
 dignities, the scandalous violence that took place on the 
 Forum every time a new law was discussed, the battles that 
 at each new election stained the Campus Martius with 
 blood, those armies of gladiators needed for self-defence, all 
 those shameful disorders, all those base intrigues in which 
 the last strength of Rome was used up, had completely dis- 
 couraged honest men. They held aloof from public life; 
 they had no more relish for power since they were forced 
 to dispute it with men ready for every violence. It required 
 Cato's courage to return to the Forum after having been 
 received with showers of stones, and having come out with 
 torn robe and bleeding head. Thus, the more the audacious 
 attempted, the more the timid let them alone, and from the 
 time of the first triumvirate and the consulship of Bibulus, 
 it was evident that the apathy of honest men would deliver 
 the republic over to the ambitious nobles who desired to 
 
 ' Ad Alt. i. 17. See also de Offic. i. 21, and especially i. 26. 
 This last passage evidently contains an allusion to Atticus. 
 "^ Epist. Brut. i. 17. 
 
156 CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 dominate it. Cicero saw this clearly, and in his letters 
 never ceases his bitter railleries against those indolent rich 
 men, doting on their fish-ponds, who consoled themselves 
 for the ruin that they foresaw by thinking that they 
 would save at least their lampreys. In the introduction to 
 the De Republica he attacks with admirable energy those 
 who, being discouraged themselves, try to discourage others, 
 who maintain that a man has the right to withhold his services 
 from his country, and to consult his own welfare while 
 neglecting that of his country. " Let us not Hsten, says he 
 in finishing, to that signal for retreat that sounds in our 
 ears, and would recall those who have already gone to the 
 front." "^ Brutus also knew the evil of which the republic 
 was dying, and complained more than once of the weakness 
 and discouragement of the Romans. "Believe me, he 
 wrote, we are too much afraid of exile, death, and 
 poverty." ^ It was Atticus to whom he wrote these noble 
 words, and yet he does not dream of applying them to 
 him ! What strange charm then did this man possess, what 
 influence did his friendship exercise, that these two great 
 patriots have thus belied themselves in his favour, and have 
 so freely pardoned in him what they condemned in others ? 
 The more we think of it, the less can we imagine the 
 reasons he could give them to justify his conduct. If he 
 had been one of those scholars who, wedded to their re- 
 searches in history or philosophy, only dwell in the past 
 or the future, and are not really the contemporaries of the 
 people with whom they live, we might have understood his 
 not taking part in their struggles since he held himself aloof 
 from their passions ; but we know that, on the contrary, he 
 had the most lively relish for all the small agitations and 
 obscure intrigues of the politics of his time. He was anxious 
 to know them, he excelled in unravelling them, this was the 
 
 1 De Rep. i. 2. 2 ^p^^f ^^„^ ; ^^ 
 
ATTICUS 157 
 
 regular food of his inquisitive mind, and Cicero applied to 
 
 him by choice when he wished to know about such matters. 
 
 He was not one of those gentle and timid souls, made for 
 
 reflection and solitude, who have not the energy necessary 
 
 for active life. This man of business, of clear and decided 
 
 judgment, would, on the contrary, have made an excellent 
 
 statesman. To be useful to his country he would only have 
 
 needed to employ in its service a little of that activity and 
 
 intelligence he had used to enrich himself, and Cicero was 
 
 right in thinking that he had the political temperament. 
 
 And, finally, he had not even left himself the poor resource 
 
 of pretending that he sided with no party because all 
 
 parties were indifferent to him, and that, having no settled 
 
 opinions, he did not know which side to take. He had 
 
 said the contrary a hundred times in his letters to Cicero and 
 
 Brutus; he had charmed them a hundred times by the 
 
 ardour of his republican zeal, and yet he remained quiet 
 
 when the opportunity came of serving this government to 
 
 which he said he was so much attached. Instead of making 
 
 a single effort to retard its fall, he was only careful not to be 
 
 crushed under its ruins. But if he did not try to defend 
 
 it, did he, at least, pay it that last respect of appearing to 
 
 regret it ? Did he show in any way that, although he had 
 
 not appeared in the combat, he felt that he shared in the 
 
 defeat ? Did he know, while he grew old under a power to 
 
 which he was forced to submit, how to retire in a dignified 
 
 sadness which forces respect even from a conqueror ? No, 
 
 and it is assuredly this that is most repugnant to us in his 
 
 life; he showed an unpleasant eagerness to accommodate 
 
 himself to the new order of things. The day after he had 
 
 himself been proscribed, we see him become the friend of 
 
 the proscribers. He lavishes all the charms of his mind on 
 
 them, assiduously frequents their houses, attends all their 
 
 fHes. However habituated we may be to see him welcome 
 
158 CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 all triumphant governments, we cannot get used to the 
 notion that the friend of Brutus and the confidant of Cicero 
 should become so quickly the familiar of Antony and 
 Octavius. Those most disposed to indulgence will certainly 
 think that those illustrious friendships created duties which 
 he did not fulfil, and that it was a treason to the memory 
 of these men who had honoured him with their friendship, 
 to choose just their executioners as their successors. 
 
 If we are not disposed to show ourselves as indulgent 
 towards him as Cicero and Brutus, with still more reason 
 shall we not partake in the naive enthusiasm that he inspires 
 in Cornelius Nepos. This indulgent biographer is only 
 struck, in the whole life of his hero, with the happy chance 
 by which he escaped such great dangers. He cannot get 
 over his surprise when he sees him, from the time of Sulla 
 to that of Augustus, withdraw himself from so many civil wars, 
 survive so many proscriptions, and preserve himself so skil- 
 fully where so many others perished. "If we overwhelm 
 with praises, says he, the pilot who saves his vessel from the 
 rocks and tempests, ought we not to consider admirable the 
 prudence of a man who in the midst of those violent political 
 storms succeeded in saving himself? " ^ Admiration is here 
 too strong a word. We keep that for those courageous men 
 who made their actions agree with their principles, and who 
 knew how. to die to defend their opinions. Their ill success 
 does not injure them in our esteem, and, whatever the 
 friend of Atticus may say, there are fortunate voyages from 
 which less honour is drawn than from some shipwrecks. 
 The sole praise that he thoroughly deserves is that which 
 his biographer gives him with so much complacency, namely, 
 that he was the most adroit man of that time ; but we 
 know that there are other forms of praise which are of more 
 value than this. 
 
 * Attic, 10. 
 
CAELIUS 
 
 THE ROMAN YOUTH IN THE TIME OF CAESAR 
 
 There is perhaps no more curious figure than that of 
 Caelius in the history we are studying. His life has a 
 special interest for us. He was not, like Brutus, a brilliant 
 exception among his contemporaries ; on the contrary, he 
 quite belongs to his time ; he lived as others lived around 
 him. All the young men of that time, the Curios, the Dola- 
 bellas, resemble him. They are all, like him, corrupted 
 early, little concerned about their dignity, prodigal of their 
 wealth, friends of facile pleasures ; they all throw themselves 
 into public life as soon as they can, with a restless ambition 
 and great needs to satisfy, and with few scruples and no 
 beliefs. His history, then, is that of all the rest, and the 
 advantage we find in studying it is that we know at once 
 the whole generation of which he formed part. Now, thanks 
 to Cicero, this study is easy for us. Notwithstanding so 
 many differences in conduct and principles, Cicero always 
 felt a singular inclination for Caelius ; he Hked the convers- 
 ation of this clever man who laughed at everything, and 
 was more at ease with him than with people like Cato or 
 Brutus, whose severity somewhat alarmed him. He defended 
 him in the law courts when a woman whom he had loved 
 tried to ruin him, and this speech of his is certainly one of 
 the most interesting that remain to us. Later, when he 
 was obliged to go to Cilicia, he chose him for his political 
 
 1 59 
 
i6o CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 correspondent. By a happy chance Caelius' letters have 
 come down to us with those of Cicero, and there are none 
 in all this collection that are more witty and more racy. 
 Let us collect all the details scattered through them ; let us 
 try, in collecting them, to reproduce an account of Caelius, 
 and by it to gain an idea of what the Roman youth of that 
 time was. It is not without interest to know them, for they 
 played an important part, and Caesar made use of them 
 more especially for the revolution that he wished to 
 accomplish. 
 
 Caelius did not come of an illustrious family. He was 
 the -son of a Roman knight of Puteoli, who had been in 
 trade and acquired great wealth in Africa. His father, who 
 had all his life no other concern than that of enriching him- 
 self, showed, as often happens, more ambition for his son 
 than for himself: he wished him to become a politician, and 
 as he saw that dignities were reached only through eloquence, 
 he took him betimes to Cicero, that he might make him a 
 great orator, if it were possible. 
 
 It was not yet the custom to confine young men to the 
 schools of the rhetoricians, and to be contented with exer- 
 cising them in imaginary cases. As soon as they had assumed 
 the toga virilis, that is, when they were about sixteen years 
 old, no time was lost in taking them to some statesman of 
 reputation, whom they did not leave. Admitted to his most 
 intimate society, they listened to his conversations with his 
 friends, his disputations with his adversaries ; they saw him 
 prepare himself in silence for the great battles of eloquence, 
 they followed him into the basilicas and the Forum, they 
 heard him pleading causes or speaking to the assembled 
 people, and when they had become capable of speaking 
 themselves, they made their first appearance at his side 
 
CAELIUS i6i 
 
 and under his patronage. Tacitus much regrets this manly 
 education, which, placing a young man under the conditions 
 of reality instead of retaining him among the fictions of 
 rhetoric, gave him a taste for real and natural eloquence 
 which strengthened him, by throwing him from the first into 
 the midst of real contests, and, according to his expression, 
 taught him war on the field of battle, pugnare in praelio 
 discebant?- This education, however, had its dangers. It 
 taught him things that it is better to be ignorant of for a 
 long time, it famiharized him with the scandalous and 
 corrupt sights that public life usually offers, it gave him 
 a too rapid maturity and inflamed him with precocious am- 
 bition. Must not a young man of sixteen, who thus lived 
 in intimacy with old and unscrupulous statesmen, and to 
 whom were laid bare without precaution the basest man- 
 oeuvres of parties, must he not have lost something of the 
 generosity and sensitiveness of his age ? Was it not to be 
 feared that this corrupting intercourse might end by giving 
 him a taste for intrigue, for the worship of success, an un- 
 bridled love of power, the desire to attain a high position 
 quickly and by any means, and as, generally, the worst means 
 are also the quickest, the temptation to employ them by 
 preference ? This is what happened to Caelius. For three 
 entire years, three honest and laborious years, he did not 
 leave Cicero ; but he perceived at length, that a young man 
 like himself, who had his political fortune to make, would 
 gain more with those who wished to destroy the government 
 than with him who wished to preserve it, and he abandoned 
 Cicero to attach himself to Catiline. The change was 
 sudden, but Caelius never took the trouble to delay about 
 these transitions. Henceforth, we can easily understand, his 
 life took another turn ; he became a seditious and turbulent 
 man, whose biting speech in the Forum and violence in the 
 
 ' De Orat. 34. 
 
 M 
 
i62 CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 Campus Martius were dreaded. At the election of a pontif 
 he struck a senator. When he was appointed quaestor, 
 every one accused him of having bought his votes. Not 
 content with disturbing the comitia at Rome, we see him 
 stirring up a popular tumult at Naples, we do not know 
 why. At the same time, he did not neglect his pleasures. 
 The debaucheries of those noisy young men of whom he 
 was one, continually disturbed the public peace. It is said 
 that the streets of Rome were unsafe when they returned at 
 night from their suppers, and that, after the manner of those 
 giddy fellows that Plautus and Terence depict, they molested 
 honest women whom they met on their road. All these 
 follies did not go on without great expense, and the father 
 of Caelius, although he was rich, was not of a temper to be 
 always paying. No doubt at this time the honest merchant 
 of Puteoli must have regretted his ambition for his son, and 
 thought it cost him dear to have wished to make him a 
 politician. Caelius, on his side, was not of a temper to put 
 up with reprimands easily ; he left the paternal house, and, 
 under pretext of being nearer the Forum and business, rented 
 a lodging on the Palatine, in the house of the famous tribune 
 A^es Clodius, for ten thousand sesterces (;^8o). This " 
 was an important event in his life, for it was there that he 
 became acquainted with Clodia. 
 
 If we relied on the evidence of Cicero we should have 
 a very bad opinion of Clodia ; but Cicero is a too partial 
 witness to be altogether just, and the furious hatred he 
 bore the brother renders him very much suspected when 
 he speaks of the sister. Moreover, he partly contradicts 
 himself when he tells us she had kept up relations with very 
 honourable people, which would be very surprising if it were 
 true that she had committed all the crimes that he lays to 
 her charge. It is very difficult to believe that persons of 
 consideration in the republic, and persons who were careful 
 
CAELIUS 163 
 
 of their reputation, would have continued to see her if they 
 had thought that she had poisoned her husband, and was 
 the niistress of her brothers. Cicero, however, did not 
 invent this; it was public rumour that he complacently 
 repeated. Many people in Rome believed it, Clodia's 
 enemies liked to repeat it, and mischievous verses were 
 made about it which were written upon every wall. Clodia's 
 reputation was, then, very bad, and it must be admitted 
 that, notwithstanding some exaggerations, she partly deserved 
 it. There is nothing to show that she killed her husband, 
 as she was accused of doing ; these accusations of poisoning 
 were then widespread, and were accepted with incredible 
 levity, but she had made him very unhappy during his life, 
 and did not appear very much grieved at his death. It is 
 doubtful, also, whatever Cicero may assert, that her brothers 
 were her lovers, but it is unfo;:tunately too certain that she 
 had a good many others. The sole excuse that can be 
 pleaded for her is that this way of living was then very 
 general. Scandals of this kind had never been more 
 common among the great ladies of Rome. Roman society 
 was passing through a crisis whose causes, which go back 
 a long way, deserve to be considered. We must say a few 
 words about them, in order to account for the grave injury 
 that public morals had received. 
 
 In a country where the family was respected as it was at 
 Rome, women could not fail to have much importance. It 
 was impossible that their influence, which was already so 
 great within the house, should not attempt to show itself 
 outside, and the honourable place they held in private life 
 must one day tempt them to invade public life also. The 
 ancient Romans, so jealous of their authority, had the con- 
 sciousness of this danger, and neglected nothing in order to 
 defend themselves against it. We know how they affected to 
 treat women ; there was no sort of unkind remarks they did 
 
i64 CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 not make about them ; they got them attacked on the stage 
 and mocked them even in their political speeches : ' but we 
 must not mistake the sense of these railleries and pity the 
 objects of them too much. They are only attacked thus 
 because they are feared, and all these pleasantries are not^so 
 much insults as precautions. These rough soldiers, these 
 rude peasants, have learnt, in living with them, how subtle 
 and enterprising their minds are, and in how many ways they 
 are more capable than themselves ; consequently they take 
 a good deal of trouble to confine them to their households, 
 and even that does not suffice to reassure them ; in the 
 household itself they must be subjugated and bridled. They 
 affect to think and to say that they are weak and untamed 
 beings {indomita animalid), incapable of governing them- 
 selves alone, and they hasten to provide for their manage- 
 ment. They are kept, under this pretext, in a continual 
 state of tutelage ; they are always " under the hand " of their 
 father, brother, or husband ; they cannot sell, buy, trade, or 
 do anything without a council to assist them : in acting thus 
 the men pretend they are protecting them, in reality it is 
 themselves they are protecting against them. Cato, their 
 great enemy, ingenuously admits it in a moment of frank- 
 ness. " Remember," Livy makes him say a propos of the 
 lex Oppia, "all those regulations our ancestors made to 
 subject wives to their husbands. Shackled as they are, you 
 
 ^ In the time of the Gracchi, the Censor Metellus thus expressed 
 himself in a speech in which he vigorously attacked bachelors : " Citi- 
 zens, if we could live without wives we should all dispense with that 
 encumbrance {omnes ea molestia careremus) ; but, as nature has willed 
 it to be as impossible to do without them as it is disagreeable to live 
 with them, let us sacrifice the charms of so short a life to the interests 
 of the republic, which must always endure." This way of encouraging 
 men to marry seemed apparently very efficacious, since, at the time 
 when men married less than ever, Augustus thought he ought to have 
 the speech of old Metelhis read to the people. 
 
CAELIUS 165 
 
 have trouble to manage them. What will happen if you 
 give them their liberty, if you allow them to enjoy the same 
 rights as yourselves ? Do you think you will then be their 
 masters ? The day they become your equals they will be 
 your superiors." ^ This day arrived just about the time of 
 which we are treating. In the midst of the weakening of 
 ancient usages, the laws against women were not more 
 respected than others. Cicero says that the gallant lawyers 
 furnished them with ingenious means to free themselves 
 from these laws without appearing to violate them.^ At 
 the same time, men were accustomed to see them take a 
 more important place in society, and to recognize their in- 
 fluence in the government of the republic. Almost all the 
 politicians of that time are governed by their wives or by 
 their mistresses, thus the innumerable gallantries of Caesar 
 must have passed in the eyes of many people, as later those 
 of Augustus did, for profound policy, as it might be supposed 
 that he only sought to please the women in order to lead 
 their husbands. 
 
 Thus, by the abolition of the old laws, and by the 
 alteration of ancient maxims, women had become free. 
 Now, it is to be remarked that, in general, the first use 
 made of regained liberty is to abuse it. We cannot enjoy 
 quietly the rights of which we have been long deprived, 
 and the first moments of liberty bring a sort of intoxication 
 that it is difficult to check. This is what happened to the 
 Roman society of that time, and all these irregularities 
 that we notice in the conduct of women then are partly 
 explained by the allurements and intoxication of their new 
 liberty. Those who love money, like Terentia, Cicero's 
 wife, hasten to take advantage of the right of disposing of 
 their fortune, that has been restored to them, they associate 
 themselves with freedmen and agents for doubtful gains, 
 1 Liv. xxxiv. 3. ^ Pro Muraen. 12. 
 
i66 CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 rob their husbands without scruple, and throw themselves 
 into speculations and trade, to which they bring, together 
 with an almost incredible rapacity, that taste for small 
 savings and economies which is natural to them. Those 
 who prefer pleasure to wealth give themselves up to all 
 pleasures with a passionate eagerness. The less bold 
 take advantage of the facilities of divorce to pass from one 
 amour to another under cover of the law. Others do not 
 even take this trouble, and impudently flaunt their scandalous 
 behaviour. 
 
 Clodia was one of the latter ; but among all her vices, 
 which she took no care to hide, we are forced to recognize 
 in her some good qualities. She was not grasping; her 
 purse was open to her friends, and Caelius was not ashamed 
 to dip into it. She liked clever men, and attracted them 
 to her house. At one time she wished to persuade Cicero, 
 whose talents she much admired, to give up his foolish 
 Terentia for her and to marry her; but Terentia, who 
 suspected it, succeeded in mortally embroiling them. An 
 old scholiast says that she danced better than it was proper 
 for an honest woman to do.^ This was not the only art 
 for which she had a taste, and it has been thought possible 
 to infer from a passage of Cicero that she also wrote verses.^ 
 To cultivate letters, to seek out clever men, to like refined 
 and elegant pleasures, does not seem at first sight to be 
 blameworthy; on the contrary, these are among us the 
 qualities that a woman of society is obliged to possess or 
 to feign. They thought otherwise at Rome, and, as the 
 courtesans alone had then the privilege of following this 
 free and accomplished life, every woman who sought this 
 ran the risk of being confounded with them, and of being 
 treated with the same rigour by public opinion ; but Clodia 
 
 ' Schol. Bob. /. Sexi. ed. Or. p. 304. 
 ^ Schwab. Quaest. CatuU. p. 77. 
 
CAELIUS 167 
 
 did not care for public opinion. She brought into her 
 private conduct, into her affections, the same passionateness 
 and the same ardour that her brother did into public life. 
 Keady for all excesses, and not blushing to avow them, 
 loving and hating furiously, incapable of self-control, and 
 hating all restraint, she did not belie that great and haughty 
 family from which she was descended, and even in her vices 
 her blood was recognized. In a country where so much 
 respect was shown for ancient customs, in that classic land 
 of decorum (the thing and the word are Roman), Clodia 
 took pleasure in shocking the established customs ; she 
 went out publicly with her male friends ; she was accompanied 
 by them in the public gardens or on the Appian road, 
 constructed by her great ancestor. She boldly accosted 
 people whom she knew; instead of timidly lowering her 
 eyes as a well-brought-up matron should have done, she 
 dared to speak to them (Cicero says that she even kissed 
 them sometimes), and invited them to her repasts. Grave, 
 staid, and rigid people were indignant; but the young, 
 whom this freedom did not displease, were charmed, and 
 went to dine with Clodia. ^ 
 
 Caelius was at that time one of the fashionable young 
 men of Rome, Already he had a great reputation as an 
 orator. He was dreaded for the satirical sharpness of his 
 speech. He was bold to temerity, always ready to throw 
 himself into the most perilous enterprises. He spent his 
 money freely, and drew after him a train of friends and 
 clients. Few men danced as well as he,^ no one surpassed 
 him in the art of dressing with taste, and the beauty and 
 breadth of the purple band that bordered his toga were 
 spoken of on all hands in Rome. All these qualities, the 
 
 ^ All these details, and those that follow, are taken from the Pro 
 Caelio of Cicero. 
 - Macr. Sat. ii. 10. 
 
i68 CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 serious as well as the trivial, were of a nature to attract 
 Clodia. Neighbourhood made their acquaintance more 
 easy, and she soon became the mistress of Caelius. 
 
 Cicero, notwithstanding his reserve, permits us to guess 
 the life they then led. He speaks in hints of those 
 brilliant fetes that Clodia gave to her lover and to the 
 youth of Rome in her gardens on the banks of the Tiber ; 
 but it seems that Baiae was the chief theatre of these 
 amours. Baiae had been for some time already the 
 regular rendezvous of the fashionable people of Rome 
 and Italy. The hot-springs that are found there in abund- 
 ance served as the occasion or pretext for these gatherings. 
 Some invalids went there for their health, and their presence 
 provided an excuse for a crowd of healthy people who 
 went there to amuse themselves. People flocked there 
 from the month of April, and during the fine season a 
 thousand light intrigues were carried on, the report of 
 which reached Rome. Grave folks took great care not to 
 be seen in this whirl of pleasure, and later Clodius accused 
 Cicero, as if it were a crime, simply of having passed through 
 it ; but Caelius and Clodia were not anxious to hide them- 
 selves; consequently they gave themselves up without 
 restraint to all the pleasures that were to be found in that 
 country that Horace calls the most beautiful in the world. 
 All Rome talked of their races on the shore, the brilliancy 
 of their feasts and water-parties in boats" carrying singers 
 and musicians. This is all that Cicero tells us, or rather 
 only gives us a glimpse of, for, contrary to his habit, and to 
 our great loss, he has for once in a way been discreet, in 
 order not to compromise his friend Caelius. Fortunately 
 we can learn more about this society and satisfy our 
 curiosity; to do so we have only to turn ourselves to 
 him who was, with Lucretius, the greatest poet of that time, 
 Catullus. Catullus lived among these persons who were so 
 
CAELIUS 169 
 
 well worthy of study, and had relations with them which 
 permitted him to depict them well. Everybody knows that 
 Lesbia whom his verses have immortalized ; but it is not 
 so well known that Lesbia was not one of those fictitious 
 persons that the elegiac poets often create. Ovid tells us that 
 this name covered that of a Roman lady, probably a great 
 lady, since he will not name her, and by his way of speaking 
 we see clearly that everybody then knew her.^ Apuleius, 
 who lived much later, is less reticent, and he tells us that 
 Lesbia was Clodia.^ Catullus, then, was the lover of Clodia, 
 and the rival of Caelius : he also frequented that house on 
 the Palatine, and those fine gardens on the Tiber, and his 
 verses complete our knowledge of that society of which he 
 was one of the heroes. 
 
 I said just now that Clodia did not love money with the 
 avidity of the women of gallantry of that time and of all 
 times. The history of Catullus proves this well. This 
 young provincial of Verona, although he belonged to an 
 honourable family, was not very rich, and after he had 
 lived a life of dissipation and pleasure for some time at 
 Rome, he had nothing left. His poor little estate was soon 
 deeply mortgaged. " It is not exposed, he says gaily, 
 either to the impetuous north wind, or to the fury of the 
 auster: it is a hurricane of debts that blows on it from all 
 sides. Oh ! the horrible and pestilent wind ! " ^ By the 
 picture that he draws of some of his friends, still poorer and 
 more indebted than himself, we see clearly that he could not 
 reckon upon them, and that his purse which was " full of 
 spiders " had no great help to expect from them. It was not, 
 
 ' Ovid, Trist. ii. 427. 
 
 ' Apul. de Mag. 10. A learned German, M. Schwab, in a book 
 that he has just published on Catullus (Quaest. Catull. 1862), seems to 
 me to have put the truth of this assertion of Apuleius beyond doubt. 
 
 ' Catull, Carm. 26. 
 
170 CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 then, fortune or birth that Clodia loved in Catullus, but wit 
 and talent. What attracted him in her, what he so passion- 
 ately loved, was distinction and grace. These are not usually 
 the qualities of women who live like Clodia ; but, however 
 low she might have descended, she was still a great lady. 
 Catullus says so in an epigram in which he compares 
 Lesbia to a celebrated beauty of that time — "Quintia is 
 considered beautiful by many men. I think her tall, fair, 
 erect: these are her attractions; I recognize them all. 
 But that their union forms beauty, that I deny. There is 
 nothing graceful in her, and in all that vast body there is 
 not a spark of wit or charm. It is Lesbia who is beautiful, 
 more beautiful than all, and she has so much grace that 
 there is none left for the rest." ^ 
 
 A woman like Clodia, who had such a decided taste for 
 clever people, must have been pleased to frequent the 
 society in which Catullus lived. We see plainly, by what 
 he relates to us of it, that there was none more witty and 
 agreeable in Rome. It united writers and politicians, poets 
 and noblemen, differing in position and fortune, but all 
 friends of letters and pleasure. There were Cornificius, 
 QuintiHus Varus, Helvius Cinna, whose verses had then 
 much reputation, Asinius Pollio, who was as yet only a 
 youth of great promise ; there was above all Licinius Calvus, 
 at once statesman and poet, one of the most striking 
 figures of that time, who, at twenty-one, had attacked 
 Vatinius with so much vigour, that Vatinius, terrified, had 
 turned towards his judges, saying : " If my opponent is a 
 great orator, it does not follow that I am guilty ! " In the 
 same group we must place Caelius, who, by his wit and 
 tastes, was worthy to belong to it, and over it Cicero the 
 protector of all this brilliant youth, which was proud of his 
 
 1 Catull. Carm. 86. 
 
CAELIUS 171 
 
 genius and renown, and which saluted in him, according to 
 the expression of Catullus, the most eloquent of the sons 
 of Romulus. 
 
 In these assemblies of clever men, of whom many were 
 political personages, politics were not excluded ; they were 
 very republican, and from them issued the most violent 
 epigrams against Caesar. We know the tone in which those 
 of Catullus are written ; Calvus had composed others which 
 are lost, and which were, it is said, still more cutting. 
 Literature, however, we can well understand, held in them 
 at least as high a place as poHtics. They did not fail to 
 laugh at bad writers from time to time, and in order to 
 make an example, ceremoniously burnt the poems of 
 Volusius. Sometimes, at the end of the repast, when wine 
 and laughter had heated their brains, they sent each other 
 poetic challenges ; the tablets passed from hand to hand, 
 and each wrote the most incisive verses he could make. 
 But it was pleasure more than anything else that occupied 
 them. All these poets and politicians were young and 
 amorous, and whatever pleasure they may have found in 
 rallying Volusius, or tearing Caesar to pieces, they preferred 
 to sing their loves. It is this which has made them famous. 
 The lyrical poetry of the Latins has nothing to compare 
 with those short and charming pieces that Catullus wrote 
 for Lesbia. Propertius mingles too much mythology with 
 his sighs; Ovid is only an inspired debauchee, Catullus 
 alone has tones that touch the heart, because he alone was 
 mastered by a deep and sincere love. Till then he had 
 led a gay and dissipated hfe, and his heart was wearied 
 with passing connections ; but the day that he met Lesbia 
 he learnt the meaning of passion. Whatever we may think 
 of Clodia, the love of Catullus elevates her, and we never 
 see her in a more favourable light than in this exquisite 
 poetry. The verses of Catullus seem to make real and 
 
172 CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 living \hosQ fetes that she gave to the youth of Rome, and 
 of which we regretted just now the absence of sufficient 
 details ; for was it not for these charming parties, for these 
 free and sumptuous repasts, that he composed his finest 
 works ? It was there, no doubt, under the groves on the 
 banks of the Tiber, that he sang that fine imitation of 
 Sappho's most fervid ode that he made for Lesbia. It was, 
 perhaps, on the shore of Baiae, fronting Naples and Capreae, 
 under that voluptuous sky, in the midst of the attractions 
 of that enchanted land, that for the first time were read 
 those verses in which so much grace is mingled with so 
 much passion, and which are so worthy of the exquisite land- 
 scape in the midst of which I take pleasure in placing them : 
 
 "Let us live, let us love, my Lesbia, and laugh together 
 at all the reproaches of stern old age. The sun dies to be 
 born again ; but we, when our short-lived light is once 
 extinguished, must sleep an eternal night without awaken- 
 ing. Give me a thousand kisses, a hundred, a thousand, a 
 hundred once more, then a thousand and a hundred 
 again. Afterwards, when we have embraced thousands of 
 times, we will confuse the reckoning to know it no longer, 
 and leave the jealous no pretext to envy us by letting them 
 know how many kisses we have given each other." ^ 
 
 That is a remarkable moment in Roman society, when 
 we meet with these polished assemblies, in which everything 
 is talked of and all ranks are mingled, where the writers 
 have their place beside the politicians, where they dare 
 openly express their love for the arts and treat imagination 
 as a power. We may say, to use a quite modern ex- 
 pression, that it is here that the life of society begins. 
 There was nothing like it among the old Romans. They lived 
 on the Forum or in their houses. Between the multitude 
 and the family they knew little of that middle point that 
 
 ■* Cat. Carm. 5- 
 
CAELIUS 173 
 
 we call society, that is to say, those elegant and select 
 assemblies, numerous without confusion, where we are at 
 once more at liberty than among unknown persons in public 
 places, and yet less at home than in the family circle. 
 Before reaching this point it was necessary to wait until 
 Rome was civilized and literature had won her place, which 
 scarcely happened until the last age of the republic. And 
 yet we must not exaggerate. That society which then had 
 its beginning, seems to us at times very coarse. Catullus 
 tells us that at those luxurious entertainments where such 
 fine poems were read, there were guests who would even 
 steal the napkins.^ The conversations they held were often 
 risky, to judge by certain epigrams of the great poet. 
 Clodia who assembled at her house these clever men, had 
 singular eccentricities of conduct. The elegant pleasures 
 sought by a woman of society were far from satisfying her, 
 and she fell at last into excesses that made her former 
 friends blush. They themselves, those heroes of fashion, 
 whose good taste was vaunted on all sides, who talked with 
 so much charm and made such tender verses, did not 
 behave much better than she, and were not much more 
 delicate. They had much to reproach themselves with 
 while their connection with Clodia lasted ; when it ended, 
 they committed the unpardonable fault of not respecting 
 the past, and of failing in that consideration that is always 
 due to a woman whom one has once loved. Catullus stung 
 with coarse epigrams her who had inspired his finest verses. 
 Caelius, alluding to the price paid to the vilest courtesans, 
 called her, in open court, the quarter of an as (guadrantarid) 
 woman, and this cruel epithet stuck to her. We see that 
 this society had still much progress to make ; but it will do 
 it quickly, thanks to the monarchy which was about to 
 commence. Everything changed with Augustus. Under 
 1 Cat. Carm. 12. 
 
174 CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 the new government, these remains of coarseness which 
 savoured of the old republic, disappeared ; men made such 
 progress, and became so fastidious, that the refined were 
 not slow in laughing at Calvus and Catullus, and that 
 Plautus passed for a barbarian. They polish and refine 
 themselves, and at the same time become insipid. A 
 courtly tone is spread over gallant literature, and the change 
 is so sudden, that little more than a quarter of a century 
 was needed for the descent from Catullus to Ovid. The 
 amours of Clodia and Catullus ended very sadly. Clodia 
 did not pride herself on being faithful, and justified her lover 
 only too well when he wrote to her : " A woman's promises 
 must be confided to the wind, or written on running 
 water." 1 Catullus, who knew he was deceived, was angry 
 with himself for submitting to it. He reasoned with himself, 
 he chid himself, but he did not cure himself. Notwith- 
 standing all the trouble he took to gain courage, love was 
 the stronger. After painful struggles which rent his heart, 
 he returned sad and submissive to the feet of her whom he 
 could not help despising, and whom he yet continued to 
 love. " I love and I hate, said he ; you ask me how that 
 can be, I cannot tell ; but I feel that it is so, and my soul is 
 in tortures." ^ So much suffering and resignation touched 
 Clodia very slightly. She plunged deeper and deeper in 
 obscure amours, and the poor poet, who had no more 
 hope, was compelled to separate from her for ever. The 
 rupture between Clodia and Caelius was much more tragic. 
 It was by a criminal trial that their amour was ended. 
 This time Caelius wearied first. Clodia, who, as we have 
 seen, usually took the first step, was not used to such an end 
 to her amours. Enraged at being abandoned, she concerted 
 with the enemies of Caelius, who were not few, and had him 
 accused of several crimes, and particularly of having tried 
 ' Cat. Carm. 70. " Ibid. 85. 
 
CAELIUS 175 
 
 to poison her. This, it must be admitted, was a very 
 sad morrow to the charming fites of Baiae ! The trial 
 must have been very amusing, and we may believe that 
 the Forum that day did not lack curious hearers. Caelius 
 appeared accompanied by those who had been his pro- 
 tectors, his friends, and his teachers, the wealthy Crassus 
 and Cicero. They had divided his defence between them, 
 and Cicero specially undertook the part regarding Clodia. 
 Although he declared, in the opening of his speech, " that 
 he was not the enemy of women, and still less of a woman 
 who was the friend of all men," we may well believe that 
 he did not miss such a good opportunity of avenging him- 
 self for all the ill this family had done him. That day 
 Clodia suffered for her whole family. Never had Cicero 
 been so sharp and stinging ; the judges must have laughed 
 much, and Caelius was acquitted. 
 
 Cicero had solemnly promised in his speech that his 
 client would alter his conduct. In fact, it was quite time 
 for him to reform, his youth had lasted only too long. He 
 was then twenty-eight, and it was really time for him to 
 think of becoming aedile or tribune, if he wished to play 
 that political part that had been his father's ambition for 
 him. We do not know whether, in the sequel, he rigorously 
 carried out all the undertakings Cicero had made in his 
 name ; perhaps he avoided henceforth compromising him- 
 self by too open scandals, and perhaps the ill-success of his 
 amours with Clodia, had cured him of these noisy adven- 
 tures ; but it is very difficult to suppose that he became 
 austere and lived after the mann of the old Romans. 
 We see that, several years later when he was aedile and 
 taking part in the most serious business, he found time to 
 learn and repeat all the scandalous tales of Rome. This is 
 what he wrote to Cicero, then proconsul of Cilicia : — 
 
 " Nothing new has happened except a few little adventures 
 
176 CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 that, I am sure, you will be glad to hear about. Paula 
 Valeria, the sister of Triarius, has divorced herself, without 
 any reason, from her husband, the very day he was to arrive 
 from his province ; she is going to marry Decimus Brutus. 
 Have you never suspected it ? Since your absence in- 
 credible things of this kind have happened. No one would 
 have believed that Servius Ocella was a man of intrigue, if 
 he had not been caught in the act twice in the space of 
 three |days. You will ask me where ? In truth it was 
 where I should not wish it to be,i but I leave you something 
 to learn from others. I should be glad to think that a 
 victorious proconsul will go and ask everybody with what 
 woman a man has been caught." ^ 
 
 Evidently he who wrote this entertaining letter was never 
 so thoroughly converted as Cicero made believe, and it 
 seems to me that we still find the harebrained young fellow 
 who made so much racket in the streets of Rome, and the 
 lover of Clodia, in the man of wit who recounts so pleasantly 
 these trifling intrigues. We may affirm, then, without 
 temerity that, although from this moment his private life is 
 unknown to us, he never entirely renounced the dissipations 
 of his youth, and that, magistrate and politician as he was, 
 he continued to the end to mix pleasure with business. 
 
 II. 
 
 But Caelius was not only a hero of amorous adventures, 
 and did not content himself with the empty honour of 
 giving the tone for elegance of manners to the youth of 
 Rome. He had more solid qualities. Thanks to Cicero's 
 
 ' Probably with some woman that Caelius loved. Cicero, in replying 
 to this letter, tells him that the rumour of his exploits has reached 
 Mount Taurus. Many suppose he means amorous exploits. 
 
 * Adfam. viii. 7- 
 
CAELIUS 177 
 
 lessons he speedily became a great orator. A short time 
 after he had escaped from this honourable tutelage, he 
 made a brilliant commencement in a case in which he was 
 opposed to Cicero himself, and this time the disciple beat 
 the master. Since this success his reputation had continued 
 to increase. There were orators in the Forum that men of 
 taste admired more, and whose gifts they considered more 
 perfect ; there were none more dreaded than he, such was 
 the violence of his attack and the bitterness of his raillery. 
 He excelled in seizing the ridiculous side of his opponents, 
 and in making, in a very few words, those ironical and 
 cutting observations on them which are never forgotten. 
 Quintilian quotes one as a model of its kind, which well 
 exemplifies the talent of this terrible wit. He is speaking, 
 in this passage, of that Antony who had been the colleague 
 of Cicero in his consulship, and who, in spite of all the 
 eulogies that the Orations against Catiline lavish on him, 
 was but an inferior intriguer and a coarse debauchee. After 
 having, according to custom, pillaged Macedonia, which he 
 governed, he had attacked some neighbouring tribes in 
 order to obtain a pretext for a triumph. He counted upon 
 an easy victory, but as he was more taken up with his 
 pleasures than with the war, he was ignominiously beaten. 
 Caelius, who attacked him on his return, described, or 
 rather imagined, in his speech, one of those orgies during 
 which the general, while dead drunk, allowed himself to 
 be surprised by the enemy. 
 
 " Women, his ordinary officers, fill the banqueting-hall, 
 stretched on all the couches, or lying about on the ground. 
 When they learn that the enemy is come, half-dead with 
 fright, they try to awaken Antony; they shout his name, 
 they raise him up by the neck. Some whisper soft words 
 in his ear, others treat him more roughly and even strike 
 him; but he, who recognizes their voices and touch. 
 
178 CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 stretches out his arms by habit, seizes and wishes to 
 embrace the first he meets with. He can neither sleep, so 
 much they shout to awaken him, nor wake, so drunk is he. 
 At last, powerless to shake off this drowsiness, he is carried 
 off in the arms of his centurions and his mistresses." ^ 
 
 When a man possesses such a biting and incisive talent 
 it is natural for him to have an aggressive temper ; nothing 
 therefore suited Caelius better than personal struggles. He 
 liked and sought disputation because he was sure to succeed 
 in it, and because he could make use of those violent modes 
 of attack that could not be resisted. He wished to be con 
 tradicted, for contradiction excited him and gave him 
 energy. Seneca relates that one day one of the clients of 
 Caelius, a man of pacific temper, and who, no doubt, had 
 suffered from his rudeness, confined himself during a meal 
 to agreeing with him. Caelius at last grew enraged because 
 the man gave him no opportunity for getting angry, and 
 exclaimed : " Do contradict me that there may be two of 
 us." 2 The talents of Caelius, such as I have just depicted 
 them, marvellously suited the time in which he lived. This 
 thoroughly explains the reputation that he enjoyed, and the 
 important position he took among his contemporaries. 
 This fiery debater, this pitiless wit, this vehement accuser 
 would not have been altogether in his place in quiet times ; 
 but in the midst of a revolution he became a valuable 
 auxiliary whom all parties contended for. Caelius was 
 moreover a statesman as well as an orator, and it is for this 
 that Cicero most frequently praises him. " I know no one, 
 he told him, who is a better politician than you."^ He 
 knew men thoroughly, he had a clear insight into situations ; 
 he decided quickly, a quality that Cicero much appreciated 
 in others, for it was just that which he most lacked, and 
 when once he had decided, he set to work with a vigour 
 
 ' Quint. Inst. or. iv. 2. * De Ira. iii. 8. ^ Adfam. ii. 8. 
 
CAELIUS 179 
 
 and force that gained him the sympathies of the multi- 
 tude. At a time when power belonged to those who were 
 bold enough to seize it, the audacity of Caelius seemed to 
 promise him a brilliant political future. 
 
 Nevertheless, he had also great defects, which sometimes 
 arose from his very good qualities. He knew men well, a 
 great advantage no doubt, but in studying them it was 
 their bad side that struck him most. By dint of trying 
 them in every way, his startling penetration succeeded in 
 laying bare some weakness. He did not reserve his severity 
 for his adversaries only ; his best friends did not escape his 
 clear-sighted analysis. We see in his private correspondence 
 that he knew all their defects, and did not stand on 
 ceremony in speaking of them. Dolabella, his companion 
 in pleasure, is a poor babbler, " incapable of keeping a 
 secret, even though his imprudence should ruin him." 1 
 Curio, his usual associate in political intrigues, " is only an 
 unstable busybody, changing with every breath of wind, 
 who can do nothing sensible," ^ nevertheless, at the time 
 when he is treating them thus. Curio and Dolabella had 
 sufficient influence over him to draw him into Caesar's 
 party. As to Caesar himself, he speaks no better of him, 
 although he is preparing to embrace his cause. This son of 
 Venus, as he calls him, appears to him " but an egotist who 
 scoffs at the interests of the republic and only cares for his 
 own," 8 and he has no scruple in confessing that in his 
 camp, where, nevertheless, he is going, there are only dis- 
 honourable men, "all of whom have causes for apprehension 
 in the past and criminal hopes for the future." ^ With such 
 a disposition of mind, and so decided a leaning to judge 
 every one harshly, it was natural that Caelius should not 
 
 1 Adfam. viii. 6. '^ Ibid. viii. 4. 
 
 3 Ibid. viii. 5. The sense of this phrase is altered in Orelli. 
 
 * Ibid, viii, 14. 
 
l8o CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 trust any one entirely, and that no one dared to count upon 
 him with confidence. To serve a cause usefully you must 
 give yourself up to it completely ; now.'how can you do so if 
 you cannot shut your eyes a little and not see too clearly its 
 bad sides ? Those cautious and clear-sighted persons, who 
 are entirely taken up with the fear of being dupes, and who 
 always see the faults of others so plainly, are never anything 
 but lukewarm friends and useless allies. While they inspire 
 no confidence in the party that they wish to serve, because 
 they always make reservations in serving it, they are not 
 sufficiently enthusiastic to form a party themselves, and 
 always fall short of that degree of passion that leads a man 
 to undertake great things. Therefore it happens that, as 
 they can neither be chiefs nor privates, and cannot attach 
 themselves to others or attach others to themselves, they 
 end by finding themselves alone. 
 
 Let us add that Caelius, who had no illusions about 
 persons, seemed also to have no preference for parties. 
 He never sought the reputation of being a man of principle, 
 nor to put order and consistency into his political life. In 
 that, as in his private affairs, he lived from hand to mouth. 
 The circumstances of the moment, interest, or friendship, 
 gave him an accidental conviction to which he did not 
 pretend to be long faithful. He went over from Cicero 
 to Catiline when Catiline seemed to him the stronger ; he 
 returned to Cicero when Cicero was victorious. He was 
 the friend of Clodius as long as he remained Clodia's lover ; 
 he abandoned the brother at the same time that he left the 
 sister, and suddenly embraced Milo's party. He passed 
 several times from the people to the senate, and from the 
 senate to the people without scruple or embarrassment. 
 At bottom, the cause that he served was of little conse- 
 quence to him, and he had not to make much effort to 
 disengage himself from it. At the time that he seemed 
 
CAELIUS 
 
 to be taking the most trouble for it, he spoke of it in a 
 tone that left people to imagine it was quite foreign to 
 him. Even in the gravest affairs, and when it was a ques- 
 tion of the fate of the republic, he did not appear to 
 suppose that it had anything to do with him, and that he 
 was interested in its safety or ruin. " It is your business, 
 rich old men," i he said. But what did it matter to him ? 
 As he is always ruined he never has anything to lose. 
 Therefore all forms of government are indifferent to him, 
 and curiosity alone makes him take an interest in these 
 struggles, in which, nevertheless, he plays such an active 
 part. If he plunges with so much ardour into the tumult 
 of public life, it is because events and men are seen closer, 
 and one can make piquant reflections on it, or find amusing 
 scenes in it. When he announces to Cicero, with remark- 
 able perspicacity, the approaching civil war and the mis- 
 fortunes that are coming, he adds : " If you were not 
 running some risk, I should say that fortune was preparing 
 a great and curious spectacle for you ! " ^ A cruel speech 
 that Caelius paid for dearly in the sequel, for one does not 
 play at these deadly games without peril, and often becomes 
 a victim while thinking to be only a spectator. 
 
 When this war, which he thus announced to Cicero, was 
 on the point of breaking out, Caelius had just been 
 appointed aedile, and his great anxiety was to have some 
 Cilician panthers for the games that he wished to give to 
 the people. At this time, after having belonged more or 
 less to all parties, he made profession of defending the 
 cause of the senate, that is to say, that in speaking of the 
 senators, he said, " our friends," and that he affected to 
 call them "good citizens"; which did not prevent him, 
 according to his custom, having his eyes open to the faults 
 that the " good citizens " might commit, and scoffing at his 
 ' Ad fam. viii. 13. ^ Ibid. viii. 14. 
 
1 82 CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 " friends " bitterly when the opportunity presented itself. 
 Cicero thought him cold and undecided; he would have 
 wished to see him pledge himself deeper. At the time of 
 his departure for Cilicia, he did not cease to extol the great 
 qualities of Pompey to him : " Believe me, he said, trust 
 yourself to this great man, he will gladly welcome you." ^ 
 But Caelius took good care not to do anything of the kind. 
 He knew Pompey, of whom he has drawn satirical portraits 
 on different occasions ; he did not much admire him, and 
 did not like him at all. If he kept aloof from him at the 
 time of his greatest power, he certainly would not, we can 
 well understand, throw himself into his arms when this 
 power was threatened. In proportion as the crisis that he 
 had foreseen advanced, he took more care to hold himself 
 in reserve, and waited for the turn of events. 
 
 It was, moreover, a time when the most honourable 
 hesitated. This irresolution, which does not seem to have 
 been very surprising then, has been much blamed in our 
 days. It is easy, however, to understand this. Questions 
 do not present themselves to the eyes of contemporaries 
 with the same clearness as to those of posterity. When 
 they are looked at from a distance, and with a mind free 
 from all prejudice ; when, besides, the results and the causes 
 are taken in at the same time, and when we can judge the 
 causes by the results, nothing is easier than to come to a 
 decision ; but it is not so when one lives in the midst of 
 the events, and too near them to take in the whole, when 
 one's mind is influenced by previous ties or personal prefer- 
 ences, and when the decision one is about to take may 
 endanger one's safety and fortune. It is not possible, then, 
 to see things so clearly. The state of anarchy in which 
 the old parties of the Roman republic were added to the 
 confusion at that time. To speak the truth, there were no 
 ' Ad/am. ii. 8. 
 
CAELIUS 183 
 
 longer parties, but coalitions. For fifty years they had 
 struggled, not for questions of principle, but for personal 
 questions. Parties being no longer organized as formerly, 
 it followed that timid minds which have need to attach 
 themselves to ancient traditions to guide them, drifted 
 about, and often changed. These striking changes of 
 opinion in honourable and respected persons disturbed the 
 less settled minds, and rendered it difficult to make out the 
 right. Caesar, who knew of these vacillations, and hoped to 
 profit by them, did what he could to increase their causes. 
 At the very moment when he was preparing to destroy the 
 constitution of his country, he had the art to appear to 
 respect it more than anybody. An expert judge in these 
 matters, and one who knows the Roman laws thoroughly, 
 has declared, after mature examination, that the law was on 
 the side of Caesar, and that the grievances he complained 
 of were well founded. ^ He took good care not to disclose 
 all his projects then, or to speak with so much freedom as 
 he did afterwards, when he was master. Sometimes he 
 presented himself as the successor of the Gracchi, and the 
 defender of popular rights ; sometimes he affected to say, 
 in order to re-assure everybody, that the republic was not 
 interested in the dispute, and reduced the quarrel to a 
 struggle for influence between two powerful competitors. 
 While ho was gathering his legions in the cities of Upper 
 Italy, he only spoke of his desire to preserve the public 
 peace ; in proportion as his enemies became more violent 
 he became more moderate, and he never proposed con- 
 ditions so acceptable as when he was sure that the senate 
 would not listen to them. On the other side, on the con- 
 trary, in the camp where moderate and wise men ought to 
 be found, there was nothing but rashness and stupidity. 
 
 1 See the excellent memoir of M. Th. Mommsen, entitled Die Rechts- 
 frage zwischen Caesar und dem Senat. Breslau, 1857. 
 
CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 Those who showed some repugnance to civil war were 
 treated as public enemies ; they talked only of proscribing 
 and confiscating, and the example of Sulla was in every 
 one's mouth. It happened then, by a strange contradiction, 
 that it was in the camp where profession was made of 
 defending liberty, that exceptional measures were most 
 persistently demanded ; and while the man who expected 
 everything from the war, and whose army was ready, offered 
 peace, those who had not a soldier under arms were eager 
 to refuse it. Thus the two sides exchanged characters, and 
 each appeared to speak and act contrary to its interests, or 
 its principles. Is it surprising that in the midst of such 
 obscurity, and among so many reasons for hesitation, 
 honourable men like Sulpicius and Cicero, devoted to 
 their country, but fitter to serve it in quiet times than in 
 these violent crises, should not have decided at once ? 
 
 Caelius also hesitated ; but not altogether for the same 
 reasons as Cicero and Sulpicius. While they anxiously 
 asked themselves where the right lay, Caelius only sought 
 where the superior force lay. He admitted this himself 
 with singular candour : " In intestine quarrels," he writes to 
 Cicero, " as long as one struggles by legal means, and without 
 having recourse to arms, one ought to attach oneself to the 
 most honourable party ; but when one comes to war it is 
 necessary to turn towards the stronger, and regard the 
 safest party as the best." ^ From the moment that he was 
 satisfied with simply comparing the strength of the two 
 rivals, his choice became easierj-in order to decide it was 
 enough to open his eyes. On one side there were eleven 
 legions, supported by tried auxiliaries, and commanded by 
 the greatest general of the republic, ranged on the frontiers, 
 and ready to open the campaign at the first signal ; ^ on the 
 
 ' Adfam. viii. 14. 
 
 2 We see at the end of the eighth book De Bello Gallico, that Caesar 
 
CAELIUS 185 
 
 other, few or no trained troops, but a great number of 
 young men of illustrious families as incapable of command- 
 ing as they were little disposed to obey, and many of those 
 great names that honour a party more than they help it ; 
 on one side, military rule and the discipline of a camp ; on 
 the other, quarrels, disputes, resentments, rival authorities, 
 differences of opinion, in short, all the inconvenient habits 
 of civil life transported into a camp. These are the ordinary 
 difficulties of a party that claims to defend liberty, for it is 
 difficult to impose silence on people who fight to preserve 
 the right of free speech, and all authority quickly becomes 
 suspected when men have taken up arms to oppose an abuse 
 of authority. But it was the character of the two chiefs, 
 more than anything else, that made the difference between 
 the two parties. Caesar appeared to all the world, even to 
 his greatest enemies, a prodigy of activity and foresight. 
 As to Pompey it was clearly seen that he committed only 
 faults, and it was not any easier then than it is now to explain 
 his conduct. The war had not taken him unawares ; he told 
 Cicero that he had foreseen it for a long time.^ There was 
 no great difficulty in foreseeing it, he had appeared to wish 
 for it ; Caesar's proposals had been rejected by his advice, 
 and the majority of the senate did nothing without consult- 
 ing him. He had, then, seen the crisis approaching from 
 afar, and during all that long diplomatic war which preceded 
 actual hostilities he had had the time necessary to prepare 
 himself. Every one, therefore, believed that he was ready, 
 although nothing showed it. When he said, with his usual 
 boastfulness, that he had only to stamp his foot to bring up 
 legions, it was supposed he meant to speak of secret levies, 
 
 had eight legions in Gaul, one in Cisalpine Gaul, and two that he gave 
 to Pompey. At the first threat of war he ordered those that were in 
 Gaul to approach the frontier. After the capture of Corfinium he had 
 three of his old legions with him. 
 ^AdAtt. vii. 4. 
 
1 86 CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 or of alliances not generally known, that at the last moment 
 would bring him troops. His confidence restored courage 
 to the most terror-stricken. In truth, such a strange self- 
 confidence in the midst of such real danger, in a man who 
 had conquered kingdoms, and conducted great affairs, passes 
 our comprehension. 
 
 Whence then could this confidence come to Pompey ? 
 Had he no exact information of the strength of his enemy ? 
 did he really believe, as he said, that his troops were dis- 
 contented, his generals unfaithful, and that no one would 
 follow him in the war he was going to wage against his 
 country? or did he reckon on the good fortune of his 
 earlier years, on the prestige of his name, on the happy 
 chances that had given him so many victories?" It is 
 certain that, at the moment when the veterans of Alesia 
 and Gergovia were assembling at Ravenna, and approach- 
 ing the Rubicon, Pompey imprudently exhibited a great 
 disdain for the general and for his troops, vehementer con- 
 temnebat hunc hominem 1 ^ But this foolish boasting did 
 not last long ; on the news that Caesar was rftarching 
 resolutely on Rome, it ceased at once, and this same man 
 whom Cicero showed us just now disdaining his rival and 
 predicting his defeat, he shows us a few days later, terrified 
 and flying into the depths of Apulia without daring to halt 
 or make a stand anywhere. We have the letter that 
 Pompey then wrote to the consuls, and to Domitius, who 
 attempted at least to hold out in Corfinium : " Know, he 
 tells them, that I am in great uneasiness (scitote me esse in 
 summa sollicitudine ").2 What a contrast to the over-confi- 
 dent words of just now ! This is just the tone of a man 
 who, waking up with a start from exaggerated hopes, passes 
 suddenly from one extreme to another. He had prepared 
 nothing because he had been too well assured of success ; he 
 ^ Ad Alt. vii. 8. ''Ibid. viii. I2. 
 
CAELIUS 187 
 
 dared undertake nothing because he was too certain of failure. 
 He has no confidence or hope in any one; all resistance 
 seems to him useless ; he does not even count upon the 
 awakening of a patriotic spirit, and it does not occur to 
 him to make an appeal to the repubUcan youth of the 
 Italian municipia. At each step that his enemy takes in 
 advance, he retreats still farther. Brundusium itself, with 
 its strong walls, does not give him confidence ; he thinks of 
 quitting Italy, and does not believe that he is safe until he 
 has put the sea between himself and Caesar. 
 
 Caelius had not waited so long to take a side. Even 
 before the struggle commenced it was easy for him to 
 see where the superior strength lay and on which side 
 victory would be. He had then boldly faced about and 
 put himself in the front rank among Caesar's friends. 
 He took his side openly when he supported with his usual 
 vigour the proposition of Calidius, who demanded that 
 Pompey should be sent back to his province of Spain. 
 When the hope of peace was completely lost, he left Rome 
 with his friends Curio and Dolabella, and went to join 
 Caesar at Ravenna. He followed him in his triumphal 
 march through Italy; he saw him pardon Domitius, who 
 had been taken in Corfinium, pursue Pompey, and shut 
 him up closely in Brundusium. In the intoxication of these 
 rapid successes he wrote to Cicero : " Have you ever seen 
 a man more foolish than your Pompey, who brings us into 
 such great troubles, and whose conduct is so childish ? On 
 the other hand, have you ever read or heard of anything 
 that surpasses the ardour of Caesar in action and his 
 moderation in victory ? What do you think of our soldiers, 
 who, in the depth of winter, notwithstanding the difficulties 
 of a wild and frozen country, have finished the war in an 
 unopposed march ? " ^ 
 
 ^ Adfam, viii. 15. 
 
CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 When Caelius had once decided, his only thought was to 
 draw Cicero after him. He knew that he could do nothing 
 more agreeable to Caesar. Victorious though he was, 
 Caesar, who did not delude himself about those who served 
 him, felt that he wanted a few honest men to give his party 
 a better appearance. The great name of Cicero would 
 have sufficed to correct the bad impression that the character 
 of those about him produced. Unfortunately it was very 
 difficult to get Cicero to decide. From the day when the 
 Rubicon was passed till the capture of Brundusium he 
 wavered and changed his mind every day. Both sides 
 were equally anxious to secure him, and the two chiefs 
 themselves approached him, but in a very different manner. 
 Pompey, always bungling, wrote him short and imperious 
 letters : " Take the Appian road as soon as possible, come 
 and join me at Luceria, at Brundusium, there you will be 
 safe." ^ Strange language in the vanquished who persists 
 in speaking as a superior ! Caesar was much more judi- 
 cious : " Come, he says to him, come and aid me with your 
 counsel, your name, and your glory ! " ^ This consideration, 
 these advances from a victorious general, who , humbly 
 solicited when he had the right to command, could not fail 
 to influence Cicero. At the same time, to be more sure of 
 gaining him over, Caesar got his dearest friends to write to 
 him, Oppius, Balbus, Trebatius, and especially Caelius, who 
 knew so well how to approach him. They attacked him oh 
 all his weak sides at once ; they revived his old grudges 
 against Pompey ; they moved him by the picture of the 
 misfortunes that threatened his family ; they excited his 
 vanity by pointing out to him the honour of reconciling 
 parties and pacifying the republic. 
 
 So many assaults were bound to end by shaking a mind 
 so undecided. At the last moment, he resolved to remain 
 1 AdAtt. viii. ii. 2 jii^_ j^. g. 
 
CAELIUS 189 
 
 in Italy, in some isolated country-house or in some neutral 
 town, living apart from public affairs, not siding with any 
 one, but preaching moderation and peace to all. Already 
 he had begun an eloquent treatise on peace among citizens ; 
 he wished to finish it at leisure, and, as he had a good 
 opinion of his eloquence, he hoped it would cause the most 
 stubborn to lay down their arms. It was an idle fancy, 
 no doubt; but we must not forget that Cato, who is 
 beyond suspicion, regretted that Cicero had given up his 
 plan so soon. He blamed him for going to Pharsalia, 
 where his presence was not a great assistance to the com- 
 batants, while, by remaining neutral, he could preserve his 
 influence over the two rivals and serve as intermediary 
 between them. But one single day overturned all these 
 fine projects. When Pompey quitted Brundusium, where 
 he did not think he was safe, and embarked for Greece, 
 Caesar, who counted upon this news to retain Cicero, 
 hastened to transmit it to him. It was precisely this that 
 made him change his mind. He was not one of those men 
 who, like Caelius, turn with fortune and decide for success. 
 On the contrary, he felt himself drawn to Pompey as soon 
 as he saw him unfortunate. "I have never desired to 
 share in his prosperity, said he ; I could wish to share his 
 misfortune ! " ^ When he knew that the republican army 
 had departed, and with it almost all his old political friends ; 
 when he felt that on that Italian soil there were no longer 
 magistrates, consuls or senate, he was seized with profound 
 grief; it seemed that there was a blank around him, and 
 that the sun itself, according to his expression, had dis- 
 appeared from the world. Many people came to congratu- 
 late him on his prudence, but he reproached himself with it 
 as a crime. He bitterly accused his weakness, his age, his 
 love of repose and of peace. He had but one thought, to 
 
 1 Ad AH. ix. 12. 
 
19° CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 leave as quickly as possible. " I cannot support my regret, 
 he said ; my books, my studies, my philosophy are of no 
 use to me. I am like a bird that wishes to fly away, and I 
 always look seawards." ^ 
 
 From that time his resolution was taken. Caelius tried 
 in vain to retain him at the last moment, by a touching 
 letter, in which he spoke to him of the probable loss of his 
 fortune, and of the danger of jeopardizing the future of 
 his son. Cicero, although he was much moved, was 
 content to reply with a firmness unusual with him : " I am 
 glad to see that you are so anxious for my son ; but, if the 
 republic continues, he will always be rich enough with his 
 father's name ; if it must perish, he will suffer the common 
 fate of all the citizens." ^ And, soon after, he crossed the 
 sea to repair to Pompey's camp. Not that he counted 
 upon success ; in joining a party whose weaknesses he was 
 acquainted with, he well knew that he was going voluntarily 
 to take his share in a disaster. " I come, said he, like 
 Amphiaraiis to cast myself alive into the abyss." ^ It was 
 a sacrifice that he thought he ought to make for his country, 
 and it is proper to give him so much the more credit for it 
 as he did it without illusions and without hope. 
 
 While Cicero thus went to rejoin Pompey, Caelius 
 accompanied Caesar to Spain. All relations became hence- 
 forth impossible between them ; consequently their corre- 
 spondence, which had until then been very active, stops 
 from this moment. There remains, however, one letter,- 
 the last that passed between them, and which forms a 
 strange contrast to those that precede. Caelius addressed 
 it to Cicero a few months only after the events that I have 
 just spoken of, but under very different circumstances. 
 Although it has only come down to us very mutilated, and 
 it is not easy to restore the sense of all the phrases, we see 
 
 1 Ad Att.'vu. 10. 2 Adfam. ii. l6. ^ Ibid. vi. 6. 
 
CAELIUS 191 
 
 clearly that the writer was a prey to violent irritation. 
 This zealous partisan of Caesar, who sought to convert 
 others to his opinion, has suddenly become a furious enemy ; 
 that cause that he lately defended with so much warmth, he 
 now only calls a detestable cause, and thinks " it is better 
 to die than remain on that side." ^ What had happened, 
 then," in the interval? What motives had led Caelius to 
 this last change, and what was the result of it ? It is well 
 to relate it, for the narrative may throw some light on the 
 policy of the dictator, and above all make us acquainted 
 with those about him. 
 
 III. 
 
 In his treatise, De Amicitia, Cicero affirms that a tyrant 
 cannot have friends.^ In speaking thus he was thinking of 
 Caesar, and it must be admitted that this example seems 
 to justify him. Courtiers are not wanting when a man is 
 master, and Caesar, who paid them well, had more than 
 any other, but we know of scarcely any sincere and devoted 
 friends. Perhaps he had some among those obscure 
 servants whose memory history has not preserved,^ but 
 none of those whom he placed in the first rank, and whom 
 he invited to share in his good fortune, remained faithful to 
 him. His liberalities only brought him ingratitude, his 
 clemency disarmed no one, and he was betrayed by those 
 on whom he had lavished most favours. His soldiers alone 
 
 1 Adfam. viii. 17. ^ De amic. 15. 
 
 ^ It would be wrong to pass over the name of Matius in silence. A 
 very fine letter of his on the death of Caesar remains (Adfam. xi. 28). 
 He was a true friend of Caesar ; but it is to be remarked that he was 
 not one of those whom he made praetors and consuls, and whose 
 debts he had often paid. Matius never filled any important political 
 office, and his name would not have come down to us if it had not been 
 for Cicero's correspondence. 
 
192 CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 can really be called his friends, those veterans who remained 
 from the great Gallic wars ; his centurions, all of whom he 
 knew by name, and who let themselves bravely be killed 
 for him under his eyes : that Scaeva, who at Dyrrhachium 
 had his shield pierced with two hundred and thirty arrows ; i 
 that Crastinus, who said to him on the morning of Pharsalia, 
 " This evening you shall thank me dead or alive." ^ These 
 men served him faithfully, he knew them and relied upon 
 them; but he well knew that he could not trust his 
 generals. Although he had heaped money and honours 
 upon them after his victories, they were discontented. A 
 few, and those the most honourable, were grieved to think 
 that they had destroyed the republic and shed their blood 
 to establish absolute power. The greater number had not 
 these scruples, but all thought their services ill rewarded. 
 Caesar's liberality, great as it was, had not sufficed to 
 satisfy them. The republic was delivered up to them, they 
 were praetors and consuls, they governed the richest 
 provinces, and yet they ceased not to complain. Every- 
 thing served them as a pretext for murmuring. Antony 
 had got Pompey's house awarded to him at a low price ; 
 when they came for the money he got in a passion and 
 only paid with insults. No doubt he thought that day that 
 they were wanting in respect for him, and called Caesar 
 ungrateful. It is not uncommon to see those warriors, so 
 brave before the enemy, and so admirable on the day of 
 battle, become again in private life vulgarly ambitious, 
 full of base jealousy and insatiable greed. They began by 
 murmuring and complaining ; they almost all ended by 
 betraying him. Among those who killed Caesar were found 
 perhaps his best generals, Sulpicius Galba, the conqueror 
 of the Nantuates, Basilus, one of his most brilliant cavalry 
 officers, Decinms Brutus and Trebonius, the heroes of the 
 1 De bell. civ. iii. 53. 2 jjj^^ jj; gj^ 
 
CAELIUS 193 
 
 siege of Marseilles. Those who were not in the plot did 
 not conduct themselves any better that day. When we 
 read in Plutarch the narrative of the death of Caesar, our 
 heart bleeds at seeing that no one tried to defend him. 
 The conspirators were only about sixty in number, and 
 there were more than eight hundred senators. The greater 
 number among them had served in his army ; all owed to 
 him the honour of sitting in the curia, of which they were 
 not worthy, and these wretches, who held their fortune and 
 their dignity from him, who begged for his protection and 
 lived on his favours, saw him killed without saying a word. 
 AH the time this horrible struggle lasted, while, "like a 
 beast attacked by the hunters, he strove among the swords 
 drawn against him," they remained motionless on their 
 seats, and all their courage consisted in flying when Brutus, 
 beside the bleeding corpse, essayed to speak. Cicero recalled 
 this scene, of which he had been a witness, when he said 
 later, " It is on the day when the oppressors of their country 
 fall that we see clearly that they have no friends." 1 
 
 When Caesar's generals, who had so many motives for 
 remaining faithful to him, betrayed him, could he reckon 
 more on those doubtful allies that he had recruited on the 
 Forum, and who before serving him had served all parties ? 
 To accomplish his designs he had need of politicians ; in 
 order that the new government should not appear to be a 
 wholly military rule he had need of the greatest number 
 possible. Therefore he was not squeamish, he took them 
 without selection. It was the dishonest men of all parties 
 that came to him by preference. He received them well, 
 although he esteemed them little, and carried them every- 
 where in his train. Cicero had been very much afraid of 
 them when Caesar came with them to see him at Formiae : 
 " There is not a rascal in all Italy," said he, " who is not 
 1 De antic. 15. 
 
194 CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 with him," i and Atticus, usually so reserved, could not 
 help calling this retinue an infernal troop. ^ However 
 habituated we may be to see the initiative in such revolutions 
 taken by men who have not much to lose, there is reason, 
 nevertheless, to be surprised that Caesar did not find a few 
 more honourable allies. Even those who are most opposed 
 to him are compelled to recognize that much which he 
 wished to destroy did not deserve preservation. The 
 revolution that he contemplated had profound causes, it 
 was natural that it should have also sincere partisans. 
 How does it happen then that, among those who aided 
 him to change a government of which many complained, 
 and from which every one had suffered, there are so few 
 who seem to act from conviction, and that almost all, on 
 the contrary, are only paid conspirators working without 
 sincerity for a man whom they do not love, and for a 
 purpose that they consider bad ? 
 
 Perhaps we must explain the composition of Caesar's 
 party by the means that he usually took to recruit it. We do 
 not see that when he wished to gain any one over to his 
 cause he lost his time in demonstrating to him the defects 
 of the old government and the merits of that by which he 
 wished to replace it. He employed more simple and sure 
 arguments : he paid. This showed that he knew well the 
 men of his time, and he was not deceived in thinking that, 
 in a society altogether given up to luxury and pleasure, 
 weakened beliefs only left room for self-interest. He 
 organized then without scruple a vast system of corruption. 
 Gaul furnished the means. He pillaged it as vigorously as 
 he had conquered it, " seizing," says Suetonius, " all that 
 he found in the temples of the gods, and taking towns by 
 assault, less to punish them than to have a pretext for 
 plundering them." ^ With this money he made himself 
 
 1 AdAtt. ix. 19. 2 ji,i^_ ix. 18. 3 Suet. Caes. 54. 
 
CAELIUS 
 
 19s 
 
 partisans. Those who came to see him never went away 
 empty-handed. He did not even neglect to make presents 
 to the slaves and freedmen who had any influence over their 
 masters. While he was absent from Rome, the clever 
 Spaniard Balbus and the banker Oppius, who were his 
 agents, distributed bounties in his name ; they discreetly 
 helped embarrassed senators ; they became the treasurers 
 of young men of high family who had exhausted the 
 paternal resources. They lent money without interest, 
 but the services by which they would have to repay the 
 loans were well known to every one. It was thus they 
 bought Curio, who set a high price on himself; he was in 
 debt for more than 60,000,000 sesterces (;^48o,ooo). 
 Caelius and Dolabella, whose affairs were in a not much 
 better state, were probably gained by the same means. 
 Never was corruption practised on a greater scale and 
 displayed with more impudence. Almost every year, 
 during the winter, Caesar returned to Cisalpine Gaul with 
 the treasures of the Gauls. Then the market was opened, 
 and the great personages arrived one after another. One 
 day, at Lucca, so many came at once that two hundred 
 senators were counted in the apartments, and one hundred 
 and twenty lictors at the door. 
 
 In general, the fidelity of people who are bought does 
 not last much longer than the money they receive ; now, in 
 their hands, money does not last long, and the day one 
 tires of providing for their prodigality, one is obliged to 
 begin to distrust them. There was besides^ in the case 
 of all these political friends of Caesar, a special reason 
 why, one day or other, they should become discontented. 
 They had grown up amidst the storms of the republic; 
 they had thrown themselves early into that active and 
 bustling life, and they had acquired the taste for it. No 
 men more than they, had used and abused liberty of speech ; 
 
196 CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 to it they owed their influence, their power, and their 
 renown. By a strange inconsistency, these men, who 
 worked with all their might to establish an absolute govern- 
 ment, were those who could least do without the struggles 
 of public life, the turmoil of business, and the excitement 
 of the rostrum, that is to say just those things which exist 
 only under free governments. There were no men who 
 would sooner find despotic power burdensome than those 
 who had not been able to support even the light and 
 equitable yoke of the law. Accordingly they were not 
 long in perceiving the error they had committed. They 
 soon found out that in aiding a master to destroy the 
 liberty of others, they had delivered up their own. At the 
 same time it was easy for them to see that the new 
 government that they had established with their own hands 
 could not give them what the old one had given them. 
 What, in fact, were those dignities and those honours with 
 which it was pretended to reward them, when one man 
 alone possessed real power? There were, no doubt, still 
 praetors and consuls ; but what comparison could be made 
 between these magistrates, dependent on one man, subject 
 to his caprices, dominated by his authority, overshadowed, 
 and, as it were, obliterated by his glory, and those of the 
 old republic ? So then must inevitably arise mistakes, 
 regrets, and often also treasons. This is why those allies 
 whom Caesar had recruited in the different political parties, 
 after having been very useful to him, all finished by causing 
 him great trouble. None of those restless and intractable 
 minds, undisciplined by nature and habit, had willingly 
 consented to submit to discipline, or heartily resigned himself 
 to obey. As soon as they were no longer under the eye of 
 the master and restrained by his powerful hand, the old 
 instincts in them gained the upper hand; they became 
 again, on the first opportunity, seditious as before, and 
 
CAELIUS 197 
 
 though Rome had been pacified by absolute power, troubles 
 recommenced every time Caesar was absent. It is thus 
 that Caelius, Dolabella, and Antony compromised the 
 public tranquillity they had been charged to maintain. 
 Curio, the head of that youth that rallied round the new 
 government, died too soon to have had the time to be dis- 
 contented ; but we may conjecture, from the light and flippant 
 manner in which he already spoke of Caesar in his private 
 conversation, from the small degree of illusion he seemed 
 to have about him, that he would have acted like the rest."^ 
 It is easy now to understand what reasons Caelius had to 
 complain, and how that ambition which the dignities of the 
 old republic had not satisfied at last found itself ill at ease 
 under the new government. The strange letter that he 
 wrote to Cicero, and that declaration of war which he 
 made to Caesar and his party are now explained. He 
 had early become discontented. From the very beginning 
 of the civil war, when he was congratulated on the 
 success of his party, he answered gloomily : " What do I 
 care about that glory which never reaches to me ? " ^ The 
 truth is that he was beginning to understand that there was 
 only room for one man in the new government, and that 
 he alone for the future would have glory as well as power. 
 Caesar took him on his expedition to Spain without giving 
 him, it appears, an opportunity of distinguishing himself 
 On his return to Rome he was appointed praetor, but he 
 did not have the urban praetorship which was the most 
 honourable, and Trebonius was preferred to him. This 
 preference, which he regarded as an insult, caused him 
 great vexation. He resolved to revenge himself, and only 
 waited for an opportunity. He thought it had come when 
 he saw Caesar set out with all his troops for Thessaly, in 
 pursuit of Pompey. He thought that in the absence of the 
 
 1 Ad Ait. X. 4. ^ Adfam, viii. 15. 
 
CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 dictator and his soldiers, in the midst of the excitement of 
 Italy, where a thousand contradictory rumours on the result 
 of the struggle were circulating, he might attempt a decisive 
 stroke. The moment was well chosen ; but what was still 
 better chosen was the question on which Caelius resolved 
 to begin the fight. Nothing does more credit to his political 
 ability than to have so clearly discerned the weak sides of 
 the victorious party, and to have seen at a glance the best 
 position he could take up for a successful attack upon it. 
 
 Although Caesar was master of Rome and of Italy, and 
 it was seen that the republican army would not check him, 
 he still had great difficulties to surmount. Caelius knew 
 this well ; he knew well that in political struggles success 
 is often an ordeal full of danger. After the enemy has been 
 vanquished one's own friends have to be provided for, a 
 task which is often troublesome. That greed must be re- 
 sisted which has hitherto been tolerated, or even encouraged, 
 when the time to satisfy it seemed distant ; it is necessary 
 above all to defend oneself against the exaggerated hopes 
 that victory produces in those who have gained it, and 
 which yet cannot be realized. Usually, when one belongs 
 to the weaker party and wishes to gain adherents, promises 
 are not spared ; but .when one reaches power it is very 
 difficult to keep all the engagements that have been made, 
 and those fine programmes that have been accepted and 
 scattered abroad become then a source of great embar- 
 rassment. Caesar was the recognized chief of the demo- 
 cratic party; thence came his strength. We remember 
 that he had said, on entering Italy, that he came to restore 
 liberty to the republic which was enslaved by a handful of 
 aristocrats. Now, the democratic party of which he thus 
 proclaimed himself the representative had its programme 
 ready prepared. It was not exactly that of the Gracchi. 
 After a century of often bloody struggles, hatred had 
 
CAELIUS 199 
 
 become envenomed, and the senseless resistance of the 
 aristocracy had made the people more exacting. Each of 
 the chiefs who, since Caius Gracchus, had come forward to 
 lead them, had formulated for them some fresh demand 
 the more surely to draw them after him. Clodius had aimed 
 at establishing the unlimited right of association and of 
 governing the republic by secret societies. Catiline promised 
 confiscation and pillage; accordingly his memory had 
 remained very popular. Cicero speaks of the funeral 
 banquets which were celebrated in his honour, and of the 
 flowers that his tomb was covered with.i Caesar, who 
 presented himself as their successor, could not altogether 
 repudiate their heritage; he must promise that he would 
 finish their work and satisfy the wishes of the democracy. 
 At this moment the democracy did not appear to care 
 much about political reforms ; what it wanted was a social 
 revolution. To be fed in idleness at the expense of the 
 state, by means of gratuitous distributions very frequently 
 repeated; to appropriate the best lands of the allies by 
 sending colonies into the richest Italian cities ; to arrive at 
 a sort of division of property, under pretext of recovering 
 from the aristocracy the public domain which it had 
 appropriated, such was the ordinary idea of the plebeians ; 
 but what they most urgently demanded, what had become 
 the watchword of all this party, was the abolition of debts, 
 or, as they said, the destruction of the registers of the 
 creditors {tabulae novae), that is to say, the authorized 
 violation of public faith, and a general bankruptcy decreed 
 by the law. This programme, violent as it was, Caesar had 
 prepared to accept in proclaiming himself the head of the 
 democracy. As long as the struggle was doubtful, he took 
 care to make no reservations, for fear of weakening his 
 party by divisions. Therefore it was thought that as soon 
 1 Pro Flacco, 38. 
 
CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 as he was victorious he would set himself to work to 
 realize it. 
 
 But Caesar had not only come to destroy a government, 
 he wished to found another, and he knew very well that 
 nothing solid can be established on spoliation and bank- 
 ruptcy. After having used, without compunction, the 
 programme of the democracy to overturn the republic, he 
 understood that he would have to take up a new part. On 
 the day that he became master of Rome, his statesman's 
 instinct, and his interest as a sovereign made him a con- 
 servative. While he extended his hand to the moderate 
 men of the old parties, he had no scruple in often returning 
 to the traditions of the old government. 
 
 It is certain that the work of Caesar, taking it altogether, 
 is far from being that of a revolutionary ; some of his laws 
 were praised by Cicero after the Ides of March \ which is 
 as much as to say that they were not conformable to the 
 wishes and hopes of the democracy. He sent eighty 
 thousand poor citizens into the colonies, but over sea, to 
 Africa and to Greece. He could not think of altogether 
 abolishing the donations made by the State to the citizens 
 of Rome, but he diminished them. In the place of the three 
 hundred and twenty thousand citizens who shared in these 
 under the republic, he only admitted a hundred and fifty 
 thousand ; he ordered that this number should not be 
 exceeded, and that every year the praetor should fill up 
 the place of those persons, thus privileged by poverty, who 
 had died within the year. Far from changing anything in 
 the prohibitive regulations that were in force under the 
 republic, he established import duties on foreign merchan- 
 dise. He promulgated a sumptuary law, much more severe 
 than the preceding, which regulated in detail the manner 
 in which people should dress and live, and had it executed 
 with tyrannical rigour. The markets were guarded by 
 
CAELIUS 20I 
 
 soldiers lest anything should be sold that the law forbade, 
 and the soldiers were authorized to enter houses and 
 seize prohibited food even on the tables. Caesar had 
 taken these measures, which hampered commerce and 
 industry, and consequently were hurtful to the interests of 
 the people, from the traditions of the aristocratic govern- 
 ments. They could not therefore be popular ; but the 
 restriction he put upon the right of meeting was still less 
 so. This right, to which the democracy clung more than 
 to any other, had been respected even to the last days of 
 the republic, and the tribune Clodius had skilfully used it 
 to frighten the senate and to terrorize the Forum. Under 
 pretext of honouring the tutelar deities of each cross-way, 
 associations of the districts {collegia comfitalicid), comprising 
 the poor citizens and the slaves, had been formed. Be- 
 ginning by being religious, these societies soon became 
 political. In the time of Clodius they formed a sort of 
 regular army of the democracy, and played the same part 
 in the riots of Rome as the " sections " in '93 did among 
 us. By the side of these permanent associations, and on 
 the same model, temporary associations were formed, every 
 time a great election took place. The people were enrolled 
 by districts, they were divided into decuries and centuries ; 
 chiefs, who led them to vote in military order, were ap- 
 pointed ; and as in general the people did not give their 
 votes for nothing, an important person named sequester was 
 appointed beforehand, in whose hands the sum promised 
 by the candidate was deposited, and distributors {divisores) 
 charged, after the voting, to divide it among each tribe. 
 This is how universal suffrage was exercised in Rome to- 
 wards the close of the republic, and thus this race, naturally 
 inclined to discipline, had succeeded in giving an organiza- 
 tion to disorder. Caesar, who had often made use of these 
 secret associations, who by them had managed elections 
 
CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 and dominated the deliberations of the Forum, would no 
 longer suffer them when he had no longer need of them. 
 He thought that a regular government would not last long 
 if he allowed this underground government to work by its 
 side. He did not shrink then from severe measures to rid 
 himself of this organized disorder. To the great scandal 
 of his friends, he suppressed, at a single stroke, all the 
 political societies, only allowing the most ancient, which 
 presented no danger, to continue in existence. 
 
 These were vigorous measures, and such as must have 
 offended many people ; accordingly he did not venture 
 to take them till late, after Munda and Thapsus, when 
 his authority was no longer disputed and he felt him- 
 self strong enough to resist the democracy, his ancient 
 ally. When he set out for Pharsalia he had still to observe 
 much caution ; prudence commanded him not to displease 
 his friends, while so many enemies remained. Moreover, 
 there were certain questions which could not be deferred, 
 so important were they in the eyes of the democracy which 
 demanded their immediate settlement. One of the chief 
 of these was the abolition of debts. Caesar turned his 
 attention to it immediately on his return from Spain ; but 
 here again, notwithstanding the difficulties of his position, 
 he was not so radical as he was expected to be. Placed 
 between his conservative instincts and the demands of his 
 friends, he adopted a middle course : instead of abolishing 
 the debts completely, he contented himself with reducing 
 them. Firstly, he ordered that all sums paid up to that 
 time as interest should be deducted from the capital sums ; 
 then, to make payment of the amount thus reduced easier, 
 he ruled that the property of the debtors should be valued 
 by arbitrators; that they should assess it, not at its 
 present value, but at that which it had before the civil 
 war, and that the creditors should be obliged to take it at 
 
CAELIUS 203 
 
 that rate. Suetonius says that, in this manner, debts 
 were reduced by more than one-fourth. These measures 
 certainly still appear to us sufficiently revolutionary. We 
 cannot approve this intervention of authority, to despoil 
 without reason private persons of a part of their wealth, 
 and nothing can seem to us more unjust than that the law 
 itself should annul contracts which have been placed under 
 its protection ; but at that time the effect produced on men's 
 minds was very different. The creditors, who had feared 
 that nothing would be left them, thought themselves very 
 fortunate not to lose all, and the debtors, who had reckoned 
 upon being altogether freed, bitterly complained because 
 they were still required to pay part. Hence disappoint- 
 ment and murmuring. "At this moment," wrote Caelius, 
 " with the exception of a few usurers, everybody here 
 is Pompeian."! 
 
 This was a good opportunity for a secret enemy like 
 Caelius. He hastened to seize it, and to take advantage 
 of the disaffection which he clearly perceived. His tactics 
 were bold. The plan which he devised was to take upon 
 himself this character of advanced democrat, or, as we 
 should say now, of socialist, which Caesar rejected, to form 
 a more radical party of all these malcontents, and to declare 
 himself their head. While the arbitrators appointed to 
 value the property of the debtors performed their delicate 
 functions to the best of their ability, and the praetor 
 of the city, Trebonius, settled the disputes which arose 
 upon their decisions, Caelius had his curule chair placed 
 beside the tribunal of Trebonius, and setting himself up, 
 by his own authority, as judge of the sentences of his 
 colleague, he declared that he would support the demands 
 of those who had any complaints ; but whether it was that 
 Trebonius satisfied everybody, or rather, that they were 
 ' Adfam. viii. 17. 
 
204 CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 afraid of Caesar, no one dared to come forward. This first 
 check did not discourage Caelius : he thought, on the 
 contrary, that the more difficult his position became, the 
 more necessary it was to put a bold face on the matter, and 
 therefore, notwithstanding the opposition of the consul 
 Servilius, and of all the other magistrates, he published two 
 very daring laws, one remitting a year's rent to all tenants, 
 the other abolishing entirely all debts. This time the 
 people seemed disposed to come to the aid of him who 
 took their part so resolutely ; disturbances took place ; 
 blood was shed as in former times in the Forum ; Trebonius, 
 attacked by a furious multitude, was thrown down from his 
 tribunal and only escaped by a miracle. Caelius triumphed, 
 and no doubt thought that a new revolution was about to 
 commence ; but, by a singular coincidence, he soon found 
 himself the victim of the same error that later ruined Brutus. 
 In causes quite opposed, these two men so unlike each 
 other deceived themselves in the same manner : both had 
 reckoned too much on the people of Rome. One restored 
 them liberty, and thought them capable of desiring and 
 defending it, the other called them to arms, promising to 
 share among them the wealth of the rich ; but the people 
 listened neither to the one nor the other, for they were no 
 more powerfully stirred by evil passions than by noble senti- 
 ments ; they had played their part and they were aware of 
 it. On the day that they had surrendered themselves to 
 absolute power they seem to have lost entirely all memory 
 of the past. From that time we see that they have re- 
 nounced all political activity, and nothing can rouse them 
 from their apathy. Those rights, which they had desired 
 with such ardour, and gained with so much trouble, that 
 greed so carefully encouraged by the popular leaders, even 
 the tribunate and the agrarian laws, all become indifferent 
 to them. They are already that populace of the empire 
 
CAELIUS 205 
 
 which is so admirably painted by Tacitus, the most worth- 
 less of all peoples, cringing to the successful, cruel to the 
 defeated, welcoming all who triumph with the same applause, 
 whose sole part in all revolutions consists in joining the 
 train of the conqueror, when the struggle is over. 
 
 Such a people could not be a real support to anybody, 
 and Caelius was wrong to reckon upon them. If, by force 
 of habit, they appeared one day to be moved by those great 
 promises which had stirred them so often, when they were 
 free, the feeling was but a passing one, and a small body 
 of cavalry which chanced to be marching through Rome 
 was sufficient to reduce them to order. The consul 
 Servilius was armed by the senate with the famous formula 
 which suspended all legal powers, and concentrated au- 
 thority in a single hand. Aided by these passing troops, 
 he forbade Caelius to exercise the functions of his office, 
 and when Caelius resisted, he had his curule chair broken,i 
 and dragged him from the tribune from which he would not 
 descend. This time the people repiained quiet, not a voice 
 answered when he tried to awaken the old passions in these 
 dead souls. Caelius went home with rage in his heart. 
 After such a public disgrace it was not possible to remain 
 longer in Rome. Accordingly he hastened to quit it, telling 
 everybody that he was going to have an explanation with 
 Caesar; but he had quite other projects. Since Rome 
 abandoned him, Caelius was going to attempt to rouse Italy 
 and recommence the social war. It was a bold enterprise, 
 and yet with the help of an intrepid man whose support he 
 had procured he did not despair of success. There was at 
 
 ^ A very curious detail preserved by Quintilian, shows us that Caelius 
 retained his levity of character and bantering humour in the midst of 
 these grave affairs in virhich he staked his life. After his curule chair 
 had been broken he had another made entirely of leather thongs, and 
 took it to the consul. All the spectators burst out laughing. The 
 story ran that Servilius had had a strapping in his youth. 
 
2o6 CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 that time in Italy an old conspirator, Milo, who had made 
 himself dreaded by his violence during the anarchy which 
 followed Cicero's consulship, and when condemned later 
 for assassination, he had taken refuge at Marseilles. Caesar, 
 in recalling all the exiles, had excepted this man whose 
 incorrigible audacity he feared ; but, on the invitation of 
 Caelius, he had secretly returned and awaited the turn of 
 events. Caelius went to see him, and both wrote pressing 
 letters to the free towns of Italy, making them great 
 promises, and exciting them to take up arms. The free 
 towns remained quiet. Caelius and Milo were forced to 
 make use of the last resource that remained to them. 
 Abandoned by the free citizens of Rome, and of Italy, 
 they appealed to the servile population, opening the prisons 
 of the slaves, and calling upon the shepherds of Apulia 
 and the gladiators of the public games. When they had 
 by these means got together some partisans, they parted to 
 tempt fortune separately, but neither succeeded. Milo, 
 who had dared to attack an important town defended by a 
 praetor with a legion, was killed by a stone. Caelius, after 
 having vainly essayed to induce Naples and Campania to 
 declare in his favour, was obliged to retreat to Thurium. 
 There he met some Spanish and Gallic cavalry who had 
 been sent from Rome, and as he advanced to speak with 
 them and promised them money if they would follow him, 
 they killed him. 
 
 Thus perished at the age of thirty-four years this intrepid 
 young man who had hoped to equal the fortunes of Caesar. 
 Never had such vast designs so miserable an end. After 
 having shown an incredible audacity, and formed projects 
 which grew more and more bold as the first attempts failed ; 
 after having in a few months successively tried to raise the 
 people of Rome, Italy, and the slaves, he died obscurely 
 by the hand of some barbarians whom he wished to induce 
 
CAELIUS 207 
 
 to betray their duty ; and his death, happening at the 
 moment when all eyes were fixed on Pharsalia, passed 
 almost unobserved. Who would dare to say, however, that 
 this end, sad as it may be, was not deserved ? Was it not 
 just, after all, that a man who had lived by adventures 
 should perish as an adventurer? He was not a consum- 
 mate politician, whatever Cicero may assert; he failed to 
 be that, because he lacked conviction and a genuine devo- 
 tion. The instability of his feelings, the inconsistency of 
 his conduct, that sort of scepticism that he affected for all 
 convictions were not less hurtful to his talents than to his 
 character. If he had known how to put greater unity into 
 his hfe, if he had early attached himself to some honourable 
 party, his capacities, finding employment worthy of them, 
 would have attained their perfection. He might have no 
 doubt failed, but to die at Pharsalia or Philippi is still con- 
 sidered an honour by posterity. On the contrary, as he 
 changed his opinions as often as his interests or caprices, as 
 he served by turns the most opposite parties without belief 
 in the justice of any, he was never anything but an immature 
 orator and a hap-hazard politician, and he died on the high- 
 road like a common malefactor. However, notwithstanding 
 his faults, history has some difficulty in judging him harshly. 
 The ancient writers never speak of him without a secret 
 liking. The brilliancy that surrounded his youth, the 
 charms of his mind, the elegance which he knew how to 
 preserve in his worst disorders, a sort of daring frankness 
 which prevented him seeking honourable pretexts for dis- 
 honourable actions, his clear judgment of political situations, 
 his knowledge of men, his fertility of resource, his strength 
 of resolution, his boldness in daring all and in constantly 
 risking his Hfe ; these many brilliant qualities though mingled 
 with so many great defects have disarmed the most severe 
 judges. The sage Quintilian himself, little fitted as he was 
 
2o8 CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 to understand that passionate nature, dared not be severe 
 upon him. After having praised the graces of his mind 
 and his incisive eloquence, he contented himself with saying, 
 by way of moral : " He was a man who deserved to have 
 had a juster sense of conduct and a longer life, dignus 
 vir cut mens tnelior et vita longior contigisset / " ^ 
 
 At the time that Caelius died, that elegant youth of which 
 he was the model, and which the verses of Catullus and the 
 letters of Cicero have helped us to know, had already partly 
 disappeared. There remained scarcely any of those young 
 men who had shone in the fetes of Baiae and who had been 
 applauded in the Forum. Catullus died first, at the very 
 moment when his talents were being ripened by age, and 
 were becoming more serious and more elevated. His friend 
 Calvus was soon to follow him, carried off at thirty- five, no 
 doubt by the fatigues of public life. Curio had been killed 
 by Pompey's soldiers, as Caelius was by Caesar's. Dola- 
 bella survived, but only for a short time, and he also 
 was to perish in a tragic manner. It was a revolutionary 
 generation which the revolution mowed down, for it is 
 true, according to the celebrated saying, that in all times as 
 in all countries revolution devours her own children. 
 
 ^ Inst, or at. x. i. 
 
CAESAR AND CICERO 
 
 CICERO AND THE CAMP OF CAESAR IN GAUL 
 
 Cicero was not wrong when he said one day to Caesar : 
 " After our time, there will be great debates about you, as 
 there have been among ourselves." ^ It is certain that he is 
 that historical personage whom men still discuss with most 
 heat. None has excited more sympathy or roused more 
 animosity, and it must be admitted that there seems to be 
 something in him to justify both the one and the other. 
 He cannot be admired or blamed without some reservations, 
 and he always attracts on some side those whom he repels 
 on another. The very people who hate him the most, and 
 who cannot pardon him the political revolution that he 
 accomplished, are forced into a secret admiration for him 
 when they think of his victories, or read his writings. 
 
 The more complex and disputable his character, the 
 more necessary it is, in order to form a just idea of him, 
 to interrogate those who were in a position to know him. 
 Although Cicero was almost all his life separated from Caesar 
 by grave disagreements, twice he had occasion to maintain 
 a close intercourse with him : during the Gallic war he was 
 his political ally and his assiduous correspondent ; after 
 Pharsalia he became his friend again, and acted as inter- 
 mediary between the conqueror and those he had con- 
 
 ^ Pro Marcello, 9. 
 
 209 P 
 
CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 demned to exile. Let us inquire what he says of him at 
 these two periods of his life when he saw him most closely, 
 and let us collect from his correspondence, through which 
 we become so well acquainted with the eminent men of that 
 time, the information it contains about him who was the 
 greatest of all. 
 
 I must first recall the events which led Cicero to desert 
 the aristocratic party to which he had been attached since 
 his consulship, in order to serve the triumvirs, and how the 
 courageous friend of Hortensius and of Cato became so 
 subservient to Pompey and Caesar. It is not an honourable 
 period in his life, and his most convinced admirers say as 
 little about it as possible. However, there is some interest, 
 perhaps even some profit, in pausing upon it for a moment. 
 
 Cicero's return from the exile to which he had been con- 
 demned after his consulship by the efforts of Clodius, was 
 a veritable triumph. Brundusium, where he disembarked, 
 celebrated his arrival by public rejoicings. All the citizens 
 of the free towns that bordered the Appian Way, waited for 
 him on the road, and the heads of families with their 
 wives and children came from all the neighbouring farms 
 to see him pass. At Rome, he was received by an 
 immense multitude crowded on the public squares, or 
 ranged on the steps of the temples. " It seemed," said 
 he, "that all the city was drawn from its foundations to 
 come and salute its liberator." ^ At his brother's house, 
 where he was going to live, he found the most eminent 
 members of the senate awaiting him, and at the same time 
 congratulatory addresses from all the popular societies of 
 the city. It is probable that some who had signed these, 
 
 1 In Pis. 22. 
 
CAESAR AND CICERO 
 
 had voted with the same eagerness the preceding year for 
 the law that exiled him, and that many clapped their hands 
 on his return who had applauded his departure ; but the 
 people have occasionally these strange and generous im- 
 pulses. It sometimes happens that they break away by a 
 sudden bound from the malice, distrust, and narrowness of 
 party spirit, and, at the very moment when passions seem 
 most inflamed and divisions most clearly marked, they 
 unite all at once to render homage to some great genius or 
 to some great character, which, we know not how, has com- 
 pelled their recognition. Usually, this gratitude and ad- 
 miration last but a short time; but, should they endure only 
 a day, they do eternal honour to him who has been their 
 object, and the glory they leave behind is sufficient to 
 illumine a whole life. Therefore we must pardon Cicero 
 for having spoken so often and with so much effusiveness 
 of this glorious day. A little pride was here both legitimate 
 and natural. How could a soul so sensitive to popular 
 applause have resisted the intoxication of a triumphal return ? 
 " I do not feel as though I were simply returning from exile," 
 said he, " I appear to myself to be mounting to heaven." i 
 
 But he was not long in descending again to earth. What- 
 ever he may have thought at first, he soon recognized that 
 this city which welcomed him with so much rejoicing was 
 not changed, and that he found it much the same as when 
 he left it. Anarchy had reigned there for three years, an 
 anarchy such as we have difficulty in imagining, notwith- 
 standing all the examples that our own revolutions have 
 given us. Since the triumvirs had let loose the rabble in 
 order to seize upon the government of the republic, it had 
 become entirely master. A daring tribune, a deserter from 
 the aristocracy, and one who bore the most illustrious name 
 in Rome, Clodius, had taken upon himself to lead it, and as 
 1 Pro Dom. 28. 
 
CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 far as possible, to discipline it. He had displayed in this 
 difficult work many talents and much audacity, and had suc- 
 ceeded well enough to deserve to become the terror of honest 
 people. When we speak of the Roman mob, we must not 
 forget that it was much more frightful than our own, and 
 was recruited from more formidable elements. Whatever 
 just dismay the populace that emerges all at once from the 
 lowest quarters of our manufacturing cities, on a day of 
 riot, may cause us, let us remember that at Rome, this 
 inferior social stratum descended still lower. Below the 
 vagabond strangers and the starving workmen, the ordinary 
 tools of revolutions, there was all that crowd of freedmen 
 demoralized by slavery, to whom liberty had given but one 
 more means for evil-doing; there were those gladiators, 
 trained to fight beast or man, who made light of the death 
 of others or themselves ; there were, still lower, those fugi- 
 tive slaves, who were indeed the worst of all ^classes, who, 
 after having robbed or murdered at home, and lived by 
 pillage on the road, came from all Italy to take refuge and 
 disappear in the obscurity of the slums of Rome, an unclean 
 and terrible multitude of men without family, without 
 country, who, outlawed by the general sentiment of society, 
 had nothing to respect as they had nothing to lose. It 
 was among these that Clodius recruited his bands. Enlist- 
 ments were made in open day, in one of the most frequented 
 spots in Rome, near the Aurelian steps. The new soldiers 
 were then organized in decuries and centuries, under 
 energetic leaders. They assembled by districts in secret 
 societies, where they went to receive the password, and had 
 their centre and arsenal at the temple of Castor. When the 
 day arrived, and a popular manifestation was wanted, the 
 tribunes ordered the shops to be closed ; then, the artisans 
 were thrown on the public streets, and all the army of the 
 secret societies marched together towards the Forum. There 
 
CAESAR AND CICERO 213 
 
 they met, not the honest folks, who, feeling themselves the 
 weaker party, stayed at home, but the gladiators and herds- 
 men whom the senate had fetched to defend them from the 
 wilds of Picenum or Gaul, and then the battle commenced. 
 " Imagine London," says M. Mommsen, " with the slave 
 population of New Orleans, the police of Constantinople, 
 and the industrial condition of modern Rome, and think of 
 the political state of Paris in 1848 ; you will have some idea 
 of republican Rome in its last days." 
 
 No law was any longer respected, no citizen, no magistrate 
 was secure from violence. One day the fasces of a consul 
 were broken, the next a tribune was left for dead. The 
 senate itself, led away by these examples, had at last lost 
 that quality which Romans lost the last, its dignity. In 
 that assembly of kings, as a Greek had called it, they 
 debated with revolting coarseness. Cicero surprised no 
 one when he gave his adversaries the names of swine, filth, 
 rotten flesh. Sometimes the discussions became so heated 
 that the noise reached that excited crowd that filled the 
 porticoes near the curia, which then took part in them, with 
 so much violence that the terrified senators hastened to 
 fly.i We can easily understand that it was much worse in 
 the Forum. Cicero relates that, when they were tired of 
 insulting, they spat in each other's faces.^ When a man 
 wished to address the people, he had to take the rostrum 
 by storm, and he risked his life in trying to keep his place 
 there. The tribunes had found a new way of obtaining 
 unanimity of votes for the laws that they proposed : namely, 
 to beat and drive away all who took it into their heads not 
 to agree with them. But contests were nowhere more 
 violent than on the Campus Martius on election days. 
 Men were driven to regret the time when they trafficked 
 publicly in the votes of the electors. Now, they did not 
 1 Ad Quint, ii. i. ^ Ibid. ii. 3. 
 
214 CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 even take the trouble to buy public offices ; they found it 
 more convenient to seize them by force. Each party went 
 before daylight to the Campus Martius. Collisions took 
 place on the roads leading to it. Each party hastened to 
 arrive before its adversaries, or, if these were already esta- 
 blished there, attacked them in order to dislodge them : 
 naturally the appointments belonged to those who remained 
 masters of the place. In the midst of all these armed bands 
 there was no security for any one. Men were obliged to 
 fortify themselves in their houses for fear of being surprised. 
 They could only go out with a train of gladiators and slaves. 
 To go from one quarter of the city to another, they took as 
 many precautions as if they had to traverse a desert country, 
 and they met at the turning of a street with the same fear 
 they would have had at the corner of a wood. In the 
 midst of Rome there were real battles and regular sieges. 
 It was an ordinary manoeuvre to set fire to the houses of 
 their enemies at the risk of burning down a whole quarter, 
 and, towards the end, no election or popular assembly took 
 place without bloodshed. "The Tiber," says Cicero, speak- 
 ing of one of these combats, " was full of the corpses of the 
 citizens, the public sewers were choked with them, and 
 they were obliged to mop up with sponges the blood that 
 streamed from the Forum." ^ 
 
 Such were the obscure convulsions in which the Roman 
 republic perished, and the shameful disorders that sapped 
 its remaining strength. Cicero well knew that bloody anarchy 
 and the dangers he was about to run, and had therefore 
 resolved, before re-entering Rome, to be prudent, so as not 
 to run the risk of having to leave it again. His was not one 
 of those minds that misfortune strengthens, and that feel a 
 kind of pleasure in struggling against ill-fortune. Exile had 
 discouraged him. During the long weariness of his sojourn 
 ' Pro Sext. 35. 
 
CAESAR AND CICERO 215 
 
 in Thessaly, he had made a sad review of the past. He had 
 reproached himself for his occasional courage and independ- 
 ence, for his boldness in combating the powerful, and for 
 the mistake he had made in joining himself too closely to 
 the party which he had judged the best, but which was 
 evidently the weakest, as though to act thus had been a 
 crime. He came back thoroughly resolved to entangle 
 himself as little as possible with any one, to disarm his 
 enemies by concession, and to keep on good terms with 
 everybody. This was the course he followed on his arrival, 
 and his first speeches are masterpieces of policy. It is plain 
 that he still leans towards the aristocracy which had taken 
 an active part in his restoration, and to praise it he has 
 noble expressions of patriotism and gratitude ; but already 
 he commences to flatter Caesar, and he calls Pompey " the 
 most virtuous, the wisest, the greatest of the men of his age 
 or of any age." ^ At the same time, he tells us himself, he 
 took good heed not to appear in the senate when irritating 
 questions were to be discussed, and was very careful to 
 escape from the Forum as soon as the debate became too 
 heated. " No more violent remedies," he replied to those 
 who tried to urge him to some brilliant action ; " I must put 
 myself on diet." ^ 
 
 However, he soon perceived that this adroit reserve was 
 not sufficient to ward off all danger. While he was rebuilding 
 his house on the Palatine, which had been destroyed after 
 his departure, the bands of Clodius threw themselves on the 
 v^jarkmen and dispersed them, and, emboldened by this 
 success, set fire to the house of his brother Quint us, which 
 was close by. A few days later, as he was walking on the 
 Via Sacra, he heard all at once a great noise, and on turning 
 round saw sticks raised and naked swords. It was the same 
 
 ^ Ad pop. pro red. 7. 
 
 ^ Ad Att. iv. 3. Ego diaeta curari incipio, chirurgiae taedet. 
 
2i6 CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 men who came to attack him. He had great difficulty in 
 escaping into the vestibule of a friendly house while his 
 slaves fought bravely before the door to give him time to 
 escape. Cato would not have been moved by this violence; 
 Cicero must have been very much frightened ; above all it 
 taught him that his system of prudent reserve did not suffi- 
 ciently assure his safety. It was, in fact, probable that no 
 party would expose itself to defend him as long as he had 
 only compliments to give it, and as he could not stand alone 
 and without support in the midst of all these armed factions, 
 it was really necessary that, in order to find the support he 
 needed, he should consent to attach himself more closely to 
 one of them. 
 
 But which should he choose ? This was a grave question 
 in which his interests were at variance with his sympathies. 
 All his inclinations were evidently for the aristocracy. He 
 had closely attached himself to it about the time of his 
 consulship, and since that time he had professed to serve it, 
 and it was for it that he had just braved the anger of the 
 people and exposed himself to exile. But this very exile 
 had taught him how the most honourable course was also 
 the least safe. At the last moment, the senate had not 
 found better means of saving him than to make useless 
 decrees, to put on mourning, and go and throw themselves 
 at the feet of the consuls. Cicero thought that this was not 
 enough. Seeing himself so ill-defended, he had suspected 
 that people who did not take his interests in hand more 
 resolutely were not very sorry for his misfortunes ; and 
 perhaps he was not wrong. The Roman aristocracy, what- 
 ever he had done for it, could not forget he was a " new " 
 man. The Claudii, the Cornelii, the Manlii, always looked 
 with a certain displeasure on this insignificant townsman of 
 Arpinum, whom the popular vote had made their equal. 
 Still they might have pardoned his good fortune if he had 
 
CAESAR AND CICERO 217 
 
 borne it with more modesty ; but we know his vanity ; though 
 it was only ridiculous, the aristocracy, whom it offended, 
 thought it criminal. They could not tolerate the legitimate 
 pride with which he constantly recalled that he was only a 
 parvenu. They thought it strange that, when attacked by 
 insolence, he dared to reply by raillery; and quite recently 
 they had shown themselves scandalized that he had forgotten 
 himself so far as to buy the villa of Catulus at Tusculum, 
 and to go and live on the Palatine in the house of Crassus. 
 Cicero, with his usual shrewdness, very clearly discerned all 
 these sentiments of the aristocracy, and even exaggerated 
 them. Since his return from exile he had yet other griev- 
 ances against them. They had taken much trouble to get 
 him recalled; but had not foreseen the splendour of his 
 return, and it did not seem that they were very well pleased 
 with it. "Those who have clipped my wings," said Cicero, 
 "are sorry to see them grow again." ^ From this moment 
 his good friends in the senate would do nothing more for 
 him. He had found his finances much embarrassed, his 
 house on the Palatine burnt, his villas at Tusculum and 
 Formiae plundered and destroyed, and they decided with 
 reluctance to indemnify him for these losses. What irritated 
 him still more, was that he saw clearly that they did not 
 share in his anger against Clodius. They showed them- 
 selves cool or remained silent during his violent fits of anger. 
 A few even, the most adroit, affected to speak only with 
 esteem of this factious tribune, and did not blush to give 
 him their hand in public. Whence came their regard for 
 a man who had so little for them? It was that they 
 hoped to make use of him, and that they secretly nourished 
 the thought of calling in the mob to the help of the en- 
 dangered aristocracy. This alliance, although less usual 
 than that of the mob with despotism, was not impossible, 
 
 1 AdAtt. iv. 2. 
 
21 8 CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 and the -bands of Clodius, if they could be enlisted, would 
 have permitted the senate to hold the triumvirs in check. 
 Cicero, who perceived this policy, feared to become its 
 victim ; he bitterly regretted then the services he had tried 
 to render to the senate, and which had cost him so dear. 
 In recalling the dangers to which he had exposed himself in 
 order to defend it, the obstinate and unsuccessful struggles 
 that he had maintained for four years, the ruin of his political 
 position and the disasters of his private fortune, he said 
 with sorrow : " I see clearly now that I have been only a 
 fool {scio me asinum germanum fuisse ").i 
 
 It only remained for him then to turn to the triumvirs. 
 This was the advice given to him by his friend the prudent 
 Atticus, and his brother Quintus, whom the burning of his 
 house had rendered cautious contrary to his habit; this 
 was the resolution he was himself tempted to take every 
 time he ran some fresh danger. Nevertheless, he had some 
 trouble in making up his mind. The triumvirs had been 
 heretofore his most cruel enemies. Without speaking of 
 Crassus, in whom he detected an accomplice of Catiline, he 
 well knew that it was Caesar who had let Clodius loose 
 against him, and he could not forget that Pompey, who had 
 sworn to defend him, had lately abandoned him to the 
 vengeance of his two friends ; but he had no choice of 
 alliances, and since he dared no longer trust the aristocratic 
 party, he was forced to put himself under the protection of 
 others. He had then to resign himself to his fate. He 
 authorized his brother to pledge him to Caesar and Pompey, 
 and prepared himself to serve their ambition. His first act, 
 after his return, had been to demand for Pompey one of 
 those extraordinary powers of which he was so greedy : by 
 his exertions Pompey had been entrusted for six years with 
 the victualling of Rome, and on this occasion he had been 
 ' Ad Att. iv. 5. 
 
CAESAR AND CICERO 219 
 
 invested, with an almost unlimited authority. A short time 
 after, although the public treasury was exhausted, he had 
 a sum of money granted to Caesar for the payment of his 
 legions, and permission to have ten lieutenants under his 
 orders. When the aristocracy, who understood with what 
 design Caesar was carrying out the conquest of Gaul, wished 
 to prevent him continuing it, it was again Cicero who 
 demanded and obtained for him permission to finish his 
 work. It was thus that the old enemy of the triumvirs 
 became their usual defender before the senate. The sup- 
 port that he consented to give was not useless to them. 
 His great name and his eloquence drew towards him the 
 moderate men of all parties, those whose opinion was 
 wavering and their convictions undecided ; those, above all, 
 who, wearied with a too tempestuous liberty, sought every- 
 where a firm hand that might give them repose ; and these, 
 joined to the personal friends of Caesar and Pompey, to 
 the tools that the rich Crassus had made by bribery, and 
 to the ambitious men of all sorts who foresaw the advent of 
 the monarchy and wished to be the first to salute it, formed 
 in the senate a majority of which Cicero was the head 
 and the orator, and which rendered to the triumvirs the 
 important service of giving a legal sanction to that power 
 which they had gained by violence and exercised illegally. 
 
 Cicero had at length obtained repose. His enemies 
 feared him, Clodius dared no longer risk attacking him, 
 his familiarity with the new masters was envied, and yet 
 this skilful conduct, which gained for him the thanks of the 
 triumvirs and the congratulations of Atticus, did not fail at 
 times to disturb him. It was in vain for him to say to him- 
 self that " his life had regained its splendour," he did not 
 feel less remorse in serving men whose ambition he knew, 
 and whom he knew to be dangerous to the liberty of his 
 country. In the midst of the efforts that he made to satisfy 
 
220 CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 them, he had sudden awakenings of patriotism which made 
 him blush. His private correspondence bears everywhere 
 the trace of the alternations of mood through which he passed. 
 One day he wrote to Atticus in a light and resolute tone : 
 " Let us give up honour, justice, and fine sentiments. . . . 
 Since those who can do nothing will not love me, let us try 
 to make ourselves loved by those who can do everything." i 
 But shame seized him the next day, and he could not 
 avoid saying to his friend : " Is anything sadder than our 
 life, mine above all ? If I speak according to my convic- 
 tions I pass for a madman ; if I listen to my interests, I am 
 accused of being a slave ; if I am silent, they say I am 
 afraid." ^ Even in his public speeches, notwithstanding the 
 restraint he puts on himself, we can feel his secret dissatis- 
 faction. It seems to me that we discover it above all in that 
 extraordinary tone of bitterness and violence which was then 
 habitual to him. Never, perhaps, did he pronounce more 
 passionate invectives. Now this excess of violence towards 
 others often comes from a mind ill at ease. What made 
 his eloquence so bitter at this time was that uneasy feeling 
 which a man has who is in the wrong path and has not the 
 courage to leave it. He did not forgive his old friends their 
 raillery and his new ones their demands ; he reproached 
 himself secretly for his base concessions ; he had a spite 
 against others and against himself, and Vatinius or Piso 
 suffered for all the rest. In this condition of mind he could 
 not be a safe friend for anybody. It happened sometimes 
 that he suddenly turned on his new friends, and gave blows 
 so much the more disagreeable that they were not expected. 
 Sometimes he diverted himself by attacking their best friends, 
 to show others and prove to himself that he had not entirely 
 lost his liberty. People had been very much surprised to 
 hear him, in a speech in which he defended Caesar's interests, 
 
 1 AdAtt. iv. 5. 2 Ibid. iv. 6. 
 
CAESAR AND CICERO 
 
 praise to excess Bibulus, whom Caesar detested. One day 
 even he seemed quite ready to return to those whom he had 
 called honest men before he abandoned them. It seemed 
 to him a good opportunity to break with his new party in a 
 formal manner. The friendship of the triumvirs had become 
 very cool. Pompey was not pleased with the success of 
 that Gallic war which threatened to make his own victories 
 forgotten. Cicero, who heard him speak without restraint 
 against his rival, thought he might without danger give some 
 satisfaction to his irritated conscience, and wished by a 
 brilliant stroke to deserve the pardon of his old friends. 
 Taking advantage of some difficulty that was raised in 
 regard to the carrying out of Caesar's agrarian law, he form- 
 ally announced that on the Ides of May he would speak on 
 the sale of the Campanian lands which by this law were 
 distributed among the people. The effect of his declaration 
 was very great. The allies of the triumvirs were as much 
 offended as they were surprised, and the aristocratic party 
 hastened to welcome with transports of joy the return of the 
 eloquent deserter, but in a few days everything turned against 
 him. At the very moment when he decided on this brilliant 
 stroke, the alliance between the triumvirs that was thought 
 to be broken, was renewed at Lucca, and, amid a concourse 
 of their flatterers, they once more divided the world between 
 them. Cicero, then, was about to find himself again alone 
 and without support in the presence of an angry and all- 
 powerful enemy who threatened to deliver him up again to 
 the vengeance of Clodius. Atticus scolded ; Quintus, who 
 had pledged himself for his brother, complained roughly 
 that his promises were being broken. Pompey, although 
 he had secretly encouraged the defection, affected to be 
 more angry than anybody. The unhappy Cicero, attacked 
 on all sides, and trembling at the passions which he had 
 raised, hastened to submit, and promised everything that 
 
CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 was required. Thus this attempt at independence only 
 made his slavery heavier. 
 
 From this moment he seems to have resolutely accepted 
 his new position, from a feeling that he could not change it. 
 He resigned himself to heap more and more exaggerated 
 praises on the vain Pompey, who never had enough. He 
 consented to become the agent of Caesar with Oppius and 
 Balbus, and to supervise the public buildings he was con- 
 structing. He went further, and was willing at the request 
 of his powerful protectors to give his hand to men whom 
 he regarded as his greatest enemies. This was not a small 
 sacrifice for a tnan who had such strong aversions ; but 
 from the time that he joined their party so decidedly, he 
 was obliged to accept their friendship as he defended their 
 plans. They began to take steps to reconcile him to 
 Crassus. This was a great matter which was not done in 
 a day, for when it was thought that their old enmity was 
 appeased, it broke out all at once in a discussion in the 
 senate, and Cicero abused his new ally with a violence 
 that surprised himself. " I thought my hatred exhausted," 
 said he naively, " and did not imagine any remained in my 
 heart." ^ He was then asked to undertake the defence of 
 Vatinius ; he consented with a pretty good grace, although 
 he had pronounced a furious invective against him the year 
 before. The advocates in Rome were accustomed to these 
 sudden changes, and Cicero had done the same thing more 
 than once. When Gabinius returned from Egypt, after 
 having restored King Ptolemy against the formal command 
 of the senate, Cicero, who could not abide him, thinking it 
 a good opportunity to ruin him, prepared to attack him ; 
 but Pompey came to beg him urgently to defend him. He 
 dared not refuse, changed his part, and submitted to speak 
 in favour of a man whom he detested and a cause which he 
 
 ' Adfam. i. 9. 
 
CAESAR AND CICERO 223 
 
 considered bad. He had at least the consolation of losing 
 his case, and although he was always anxious for success, 
 it is probable that this failure did not give him much 
 pain. 
 
 But he well understood that so much deference and sub- 
 mission, all these notorious self-contradictions to which he 
 was forced, would end by rousing public opinion against 
 him. Therefore, about this time, he decided to write an 
 important letter to his friend Lentulus, one of the chiefs of 
 the aristocracy, which he probably intended to be circulated? 
 and in which he explains his conduct.^ In this letter, after 
 having related the facts in his own way and sufficiently 
 abused those whom he had abandoned, a conveiiient and 
 common mode of anticipating their complaints and making 
 them responsible for the mischief he was about to do them, 
 he ventures to present, with singular candour, a sort of 
 apology for his political instability. The reasons he gives 
 to justify it are not always very good ; but we must believe 
 that better cannot be found, since they have not ceased to 
 be used. Under the pretence that Plato has somewhere 
 said, " one must not do violence to one's country any more 
 than to one's father," Cicero lays it down as a principle, 
 that a politician ought not to persist in wishing for what his 
 fellow-citizens do not wish, nor lose his pains in attempting 
 useless opposition. Circumstances change, one must change 
 with them, and suit oneself to the wind that blows, so as not 
 to go to pieces on the rocks. Besides, is that really to 
 change ? Cannot one in the main wish for the same thing 
 and serve one's country under different banners ? A man 
 is not fickle for defending, according to circumstances, 
 opinions that seem contradictory if by opposite routes he 
 marches to the same goal, and do we not know " that we 
 must often shift the sails when we wish to arrive in port " ? 
 ' Adfam. i. 9. 
 
224 CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 These are only the general maxims which an inventive 
 politician can make up to hide his weaknesses, and there is 
 no need to discuss them. The best way to defend Cicero 
 is to remember in what a time he lived, and how little fitted 
 he was for that time. This elegant literary man, this 
 skilful artist, this friend of the arts of peace, had been 
 placed, by a caprice of fate, in one of the most stormy and 
 troubled periods of history. What could a man of leisure 
 and study do among those deadly struggles where force was 
 master, a man who had no arms but his words, and who 
 always dreamed of the pleasures of peaceful times and, the 
 pacific laurels of eloquence ? A more manly soul than his 
 would have been needed to make head against these as- 
 saults. Events stronger than himself confounded his designs 
 every instant and played with his hesitating will. On his 
 entry into public life he had taken for his motto, leisure and 
 honour, otium cum dignitate; but these two things are not 
 easy to unite in revolutionary times, and almost always one 
 of the two is lost when we are too anxious to preserve the 
 other. Resolute characters, who know this well, make their 
 choice between them at once, and, according as one is a 
 Cato or an Atticus, one decides from the very first day 
 either for leisure or for honour. The undecided, like 
 Cicero, pass from one to the other, according to circum- 
 stances, and thus jeopardize both. We have arrived at one 
 of those painful moments in his life when he sacrifices 
 honour to leisure ; let us not be too severe upon him, and 
 let us remember that, later, he sacrificed not only his leisure, 
 but even his life, to save his honour. 
 
 II. 
 
 One of the results of the new policy of Cicero was to 
 give him an opportunity of becoming well acquainted with 
 
CAESAR AND CICERO 225 
 
 Caesar. Not that they had been hitherto strangers to one 
 another. The taste of both for letters and the similar 
 nature of their studies, had united them in their youth, and 
 from these early relations, which men never forget, there had 
 remained some natural sympathy and good-will. But as in 
 later life they had attached themselves to opposite parties, 
 circumstances had separated them. In the Forum, and in 
 the senate, they had acquired the habit of always being of 
 opposite opinions, and naturally their friendship had suffered 
 from the vivacity of their dissensions. Yet Cicero tells us 
 that, even when they were most excited against each other, 
 Caesar could never hate him.^ 
 
 Politics had separated them, politics reunited them. 
 When Cicero turned towards the party of the triumvirs their 
 intimate relations recommenced ; but this time their position 
 was different, and their connection could no longer have 
 the same character. The old school-fellow of Cicero had 
 become his protector. It was no longer a mutual inclin- 
 ation or common studies, it was interest and necessity that 
 united them, and their new ties were formed by a sort of 
 reciprocal agreement in which one of the two gave his 
 talents and a little of his honour, that the other might 
 guarantee him repose. These are not very favourable 
 circumstances, it must be admitted, to produce a sincere 
 friendship. However, when we read Cicero's private corre- 
 spondence, in which he speaks unreservedly, we cannot 
 doubt but that he found many charms in these relations 
 with Caesar which seemed to him at first to be so difificult. 
 Probably this was because he compared them with those 
 which he had at the same time to keep up with Pompey. 
 Caesar at least was affable and polite. Although he had 
 the gravest affairs on his hands, he found time to think of 
 his friends and to joke with them. Victorious as he was, 
 
 1 In Pis. 32- 
 
 Q 
 
226 CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 he allowed them to write to him " familiarly and without 
 subserviency." ^ He answered with amiable letters, " full of 
 politeness, kind attentions and charm," ^ which delighted 
 Cicero. Pompey, on the contrary, seemed to take a pleasure 
 in wounding him by his lofty airs. This pompous and vain 
 man, whom the adoration of the Orientals had spoilt, and 
 who could not avoid assuming the deportment of a con- 
 queror merely in going from his house at Alba to Rome, 
 affected an imperious and haughty tone which alienated 
 everybody. His dissimulation was still more displeasing 
 than his insolence. He had a sort of dislike of communi- 
 cating his projects to others ; he hid them even from his 
 most devoted friends, who wished to know them in order to 
 support them. Cicero complains more than once that he 
 could never discover what he wanted ; it even happened 
 that he was completely deceived as to his real intentions 
 and made him angry, thinking he was doing him a service. 
 This obstinate dissimulation passed, no doubt, for profound 
 policy in the eyes of the multitude; but the more skilful 
 had no difficulty in discerning its motive. If he did not 
 express his opinion to anybody, it was because most fre- 
 quently he had no opinion, and, as it very commonly 
 happens, silence with him only served to cover the fact. 
 He went at random, without fixed principles or settled 
 system, and never looked beyond present circumstances. 
 Events always took him by surprise, and he showed clearly 
 that he was no more capable of directing them than of 
 foreseeing them. His ambition itself, which was his 
 dominant passion, had no precise views or decided aims. 
 Whatever dignities were offered to satisfy it, it was plainly 
 seen that he always desired something else ; this was per- 
 ceived without his saying it, for he tried very awkwardly to 
 hide it. His ordinary stratagem was to pretend indifference, 
 
 ^ Ad Quint, ii. 12. ~ ^ Ibid. ii. 15. 
 
CAESAR ANt) CICERO 227 
 
 and he wished to be forced to accept what he most ardently 
 desired. We can well understand that this pretence when 
 too often repeated deceived nobody. Upon the whole, as 
 he had successively attacked and defended all parties, and 
 after having often appeared to desire an almost royal 
 authority, had not endeavoured to destroy the republic when 
 he had the power to do so, it is impossible for us to discover 
 now what plan he had conceived, or even if he had con- 
 ceived any distinct plan at all. 
 
 It is not so with Caesar. He knew the object of his 
 ambition, and saw distinctly what he wished to do. His 
 plans were settled even before he entered public life ; ^ in 
 his youth he had formed the design to become master. 
 The spectacle of the revolutions on which he had looked 
 had given rise to the thought ; the confidence that he had 
 in his own capacity, and in the inferiority of his enemies, 
 gave him strength to undertake it, and a sort of superstitious 
 belief in his destiny, not uncommon in men who attempt 
 these great adventures, assured him in advance of success. 
 Therefore he marched resolutely towards his end, without 
 showing undue haste to attain it, but without ever losing 
 sight of it. To know exactly what one wants is not a 
 common quality, above all in those troubled times in which 
 good and evil are mingled, and yet success only comes to 
 those who possess it. What, above all, gave Caesar his 
 superiority was, that in the midst of those irresolute 
 politicians who had only uncertain projects, hesitating con- 
 victions, and occasional ambitions, he alone had a deliberate 
 ambition and a settled design. One could not approach 
 him without coming under the influence of that tranquil 
 
 ' This at least was the opinion of all the historians of antiquity. We 
 read in a fragment of a letter from Cicero to Q. Axius quoted by 
 Suetonius ( Caes. 9) : Caesar in consulatu confirmavit regnum de quo 
 aedilis cogitaret. 
 
228 CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 and powerful will, which had a clear idea of its projects, 
 the consciousness of its own strength, and the confidence of 
 victory. Cicero felt it like the rest, notwithstanding his 
 prejudices. In presence of such consistency and firmness 
 he could not avoid making unfavourable comparisons with 
 the perturbation and inconsistency of his old friend. "I 
 am of your opinion about Pompey, he hinted to his brother, 
 or rather you are of mine, for I have sung the praises of 
 Caesar for a long time." ^ In fact, it was sufficient to 
 approach a man of real genius to recognize the emptiness 
 of this semblance of a great mau, whose easy successes 
 and air of inflated majesty had imposed so long upon the 
 admiration of fools. 
 
 We must not, however, suppose that Caesar was one of 
 those stubborn men who will not give way to circumstances, 
 and never consent to alter anything in the plans they have 
 once conceived. No one, on the contrary, knew how to 
 bend to necessity better than he. His aim remained the 
 same, but he did not hesitate to take the most diverse 
 means to attain it, when it was necessary. One of these 
 important modifications took place in his policy, precisely at 
 the period with which we are occupied. What distinguishes 
 Caesar from the men with whom he is usually compared, 
 Alexander and Napoleon, has been well stated by M. 
 Mommsen, namely, that originally he was a statesman 
 rather than a general. He did not, like them, come from 
 the camp, and he had as yet merely passed through it 
 when, by force of circumstances and almost in spite of him- 
 self, he became a conqueror. All his youth was passed in 
 Rome in the turmoil of public life, and he only set out for 
 Gaul at an age at which Alexander was dead and Napoleon 
 vanquished. He had evidently formed the plan of making 
 himself master without emjiloying arms ; he reckoned upon 
 
 ' Ad Quint, ii. 13. 
 
CAESAR AND CICERO 229 
 
 destroying the republic by a slow and internal revolution, 
 and by preserving as much as possible, in so illegal an 
 attempt, the outward form of legality. He saw that the 
 popular party had more taste for social reforms than for 
 political liberties, and he thought, with reason, that a 
 democratic monarchy would not be repugnant to it. By 
 multiplying dissensions, by becoming the secret accomplice 
 of Catiline and Clodius, he wearied timid republicans of a 
 too troubled liberty and prepared them to sacrifice it 
 willingly to repose. He hoped in this way that the republic, 
 shaken by these daily attacks, which exhausted and tired 
 out its most intrepid defenders, would at last fall without 
 violence and without noise. But, to our great surprise, at 
 the moment when this skilfully-planned design seemed on 
 the point of succeeding, we see Caesar suddenly give it up. 
 After that consulship in which he had governed alone, 
 reducing his colleague to inaction and the senate to silence, 
 he withdraws from E-ome for ten years, and goes to attempt 
 the conquest of an unknown country. What reasons 
 decided him to this unexpected change ? We should like 
 to believe that he felt some disgust for that life of base 
 intrigues that he led at Rome, and wished to invigorate 
 himself in labours more worthy of him ; but it is much 
 more likely that, after having seen clearly that the republic 
 would fall of itself, he understood that he would require an 
 army and military renown to gain the mastery over Pompey. 
 It was, then, without enthusiasm, without passion, designedly 
 and on calculation, that he decided to set out for Gaul. 
 When he took this important resolution, which has con- 
 tributed so much to his greatness, he was forty-four.^ Pascal 
 thinks it was very late to begin, and that he was too old to 
 
 ^ Or only forty-two, if we place his birth in 654. See, on this point, 
 an interesting note in the Life of Caesar, by Napoleon III., Bk. II. 
 ch. i. 
 
23° CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 interest himself in the conquest of the world. It is, on the 
 contrary, as it seems, one of the most admirable efforts of 
 that energetic will that, at an age when habits are irrevoc- 
 ably fixed, and when a man has definitely entered on the 
 road he must follow to the end, Caesar suddenly com- 
 menced a new life, and, leaving in a moment the business of 
 popular agitator that he had followed for twenty-five years, 
 set himself to govern provinces and lead armies. This 
 spectacle, indeed, is more surprising now than it was then. 
 It is no longer the custom to turn oneself into an adminis- 
 trator or a general at fifty, and these things seem to us to 
 demand a special vocation and a long apprenticeship; 
 history shows us that it was otherwise at Rome. Had they 
 not just seen the voluptuous LucuUus, on his way to com- 
 mand the army of Asia, learn the art of war during the 
 voyage, and conquer Mithridates on his arrival? As to 
 administration, a rich Roman learnt it in his own home. 
 Those vast domains, those legions of slaves that he possessed, 
 the management of an immense fortune which often sur- 
 passed the wealth of several kingdoms of our days, familiar- 
 ized him early with the art of government. It was thus 
 that Caesar, who had as yet only had occasion to practise 
 himself in the government of provinces and the command 
 of armies during the year of his praetorship in Spain, had no 
 need of further study to be able to conquer the Helvetii 
 and to organize the conquered countries, and that he found 
 himself at the very first attempt an admirable general and 
 an administrator of genius. 
 
 It was at this epoch that his intimate relations with Cicero 
 recommenced, and they lasted as long as the Gallic war. 
 Cicero often had occasion to write to him to recommend 
 people who wished to serve under his command. The 
 ambition of the young men at that time was to set out for 
 Caesar's camp. Besides the desire of taking part in great 
 
CAESAR AND CICERO 231 
 
 deeds under such a general, they had also the secret hope 
 of enriching themselves in those distant countries. We 
 know with what charms the unknown is usually adorned, 
 and how easy it is to lend it all the attractions we wish. 
 Gaul was for the imagination of that time what America 
 was to the sixteenth century. It was supposed that in those 
 countries that no one had visited there lay immense 
 treasures, and all who had their fortune to make hastened 
 to Caesar to have their share of the booty. This eagerness 
 was not displeasing to him ; it bore witness to the fascination 
 his conquests exercised, and helped his designs, and accord- 
 ingly he readily invited men to come to him. He wrote 
 gaily to Cicero, who had begged a commission for some 
 unknown Roman : " You have recommended M. OfRus to 
 me ; if you like I will make him King of Gaul, unless he 
 prefers to be lieutenant of Lepta. Send me whom you will 
 that I may make him rich." 1 Cicero had with him at that 
 moment two persons whom he loved very much and who 
 had great need of being enriched, the lawyer Trebatius 
 Testa and his own brother Quintus. It was a good oppor- 
 tunity, and he sent them both to Caesar. 
 
 Trebatius was a young man of much talent and great 
 zeal for study, who had attached himself to Cicero and did 
 not leave him. He had early left his poor little town of 
 Ulubrae, situated in the midst of the Pontine marshes, for 
 Rome, — Ulubrae the deserted, vacuae Ulubrae, whose in- 
 habitants were called Ulubran frogs. He had studied law, 
 and, as he had become very learned in it, no doubt he 
 rendered many services to Cicero, who does not appear 
 ever to have known much of law, and who found it more 
 convenient to laugh at it than to learn it. Unfortunately, 
 consultations being gratuitous, lawyers did not make their 
 fortune at Rome. Accordingly Trebatius was poor, in 
 1 Adfam. vii. 15. 
 
232 CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 spite of his knowledge. Cicero, who hked him unselfishly, 
 consented to deprive himself of the pleasure and use that 
 he found in his society, and sent him to Caesar with one 
 of those charming letters of recommendation that he knew 
 so well how to write, and in which he displayed so much 
 grace and wit. " I do not ask of you," he says, " the com- 
 mand of a legion, or a government for him. I ask for 
 nothing definite. Give him your friendship, and if after- 
 wards you care to do something for his fortune and his 
 glory I shall not be displeased. In fact, I abandon him 
 to you entirely ; I give him to you from hand to hand as 
 they say, and I hope he will find himself well off in those 
 faithful and victorious hands." i Caesar thanked Cicero 
 for the present that he had made him, which could not fail 
 to be very valuable to him, "for," he wittily remarked, 
 "among the multitude of men who surround me, there is 
 not one who knows how to prepare a suit." ^ 
 
 Trebatius left Rome reluctantly ; Cicero said that he had 
 to turn him out of doors.^ The first sight of Gaul, which 
 resembled very little the France of to-day, was not cheering. 
 He passed wild countries, among half subdued and threaten- 
 ing people, and in the midst of these barbarian surroundings 
 which oppressed his heart, he always thought of the plea- 
 sures of that cultivated city that he had just left. The 
 letters that he wrote were so disconsolate, that Cicero, 
 forgetting that he had felt the same regrets during his own 
 exile, reproached him gently for what he called his foolish- 
 ness. When he arrived at the camp his ill-humour was 
 redoubled. Trebatius was not a warrior, and it is very 
 likely that the Nervii and the Atrebates frightened him very 
 much. He arrived just at the moment when Caesar was 
 setting out on the expedition to Britain, and refused, one 
 
 1 Ad fain. vii. 5. 2 Ad Quint, ii. 15. 
 
 * Adfam. vii, 6 : nisi te extrusissemus. 
 
CAESAR AND CICERO 233 
 
 knows not on what pretext, to accompany him : perhaps 
 he alleged, like Dumnorix, that he feared the sea; but, 
 even in remaining in Gaul there was no want of danger 
 and tedium. Their winter quarters were not comfortable ; 
 they suffered from cold and rain under that inclement sky. 
 In summer they had to take the field, and his terror recom- 
 menced. Trebatius was always complaining. What added 
 to his discontent was that he had not found all at once the 
 advantages he had expected. He had set out unwillingly, 
 and wished to return as quickly as possible. Cicero said 
 that he had looked on the letter of recommendation that 
 he had given him to Caesar as a bill of exchange payable 
 to bearer.i He thought he had only to present himself in 
 order to take the money, and return. It was not only 
 money he went to look for in Gaul ; he expected to find 
 there a post of distinction and importance. He wished to 
 approach Caesar and make himself appreciated. Cicero 
 writes to him : " You would much rather be consulted than 
 covered with gold."^ Now, Caesar was so busy that he 
 was difficult to approach, and he did not at first pay any 
 great attention to this learned lawyer who came to him 
 from Rome. He contented himself with offering him the 
 title and emoluments of a military tribune, without the 
 duties, of course. Trebatius did not think this a sufficient 
 reward for the length of his journey and the dangers of the 
 country, and thought of returning. Cicero had much 
 trouble to prevent this rash conduct. I do not think there 
 is any part of his correspondence more amusing and more 
 lively than the letters he wrote to Trebatius to induce him 
 to remain. Cicero is at his ease with this obscure young 
 man, for whom he had such a lively affection. He dares 
 to laugh freely, which he does not do with everybody, and 
 he laughs all the more readily as he knows Trebatius was 
 1 Adfam. vii. 17. ^ Md. vii. 13. 
 
234 CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 low-spirited, and he wishes to console him. It seems to 
 me that this trouble that he takes to cheer up an unhappy 
 friend makes his pleasantries almost touching, and that his 
 good heart here lends one more charm to his wit. He 
 quizzes him good-naturedly in order to make him laugh, 
 and jokes about things that he knows the good Trebatius 
 does not mind being bantered on. For instance, one day 
 he asks him to send him all the details of the campaign : 
 " For an account of a battle," he says, " I trust above all 
 the most timorous ; " i probably because, having held them- 
 selves aloof from the fight, they will have been better able 
 to see the whole. Another time, after having expressed 
 some fear at seeing him exposed to so many dangers, he 
 adds : " Happily I know your prudence ; you are much 
 bolder in presenting writs than in harassing the enemy, 
 and I remember that, although you are a good swimmer, 
 you would not cross over into Britain for fear of taking a 
 bath in the ocean." ^ 
 
 To soothe his impatience he threatens him with the 
 wags. Was it not to be feared that if he returned, Laberius 
 would put him in one of his farces ? A frightened lawyer 
 travelling in the train of an army, and exercising his pro- 
 fession among the barbarians, would make a funny figure 
 in a comedy ; but, to silence the wags he had only to make 
 his fortune. Let him return later, he would certainly return 
 richer ; Balbus had said so. Now, Balbus was a banker ; 
 he did not speak in the sense of the Stoics, who affirm that 
 one is always rich enough when one can enjoy the spectacle 
 of the sky and the earth ; he spoke as a Roman and meant 
 that he would return well furnished with crown-pieces, 
 more romano bene nummatum. Trebatius remained, and 
 he did well to do so. Caesar was not long in noticing him, 
 and was pleased with his friendship. He got accustomed 
 
 ^ Adfam. vii. l8. ^ Ibid. vii. 10. 
 
CAESAR AND CICERO 235 
 
 to camp life, and in time became a little less timid than 
 he was on his arrival. It is probable that he returned rich, 
 as Balbus had predicted, for if they did not find all the 
 treasures they went to seek in Gaul, Caesar's liberality was 
 an inexhaustible mine that enriched all his friends. At a 
 later period Trebatius passed through trying times, and yet 
 preserved the reputation of an honest man ; this was an 
 act of justice that all parties did him, although they were 
 not much in the habit of doing justice. He had the rare 
 good fortune to escape all the perils of the civil wars, and 
 was still living in the time of Horace, who addressed one 
 of his most agreeable satires to him. We see in it that he 
 was then an amiable and indulgent old man who readily 
 laughed and amused himself with the young. He talked to 
 them, no doubt, about that grand epoch of which he was one 
 of the last survivors, of the Gallic war in which he had taken 
 part, of Caesar and his captains whom he had known. By 
 the privilege of his age he could speak of Lucretius to 
 Virgil, of Cicero to Livy, of Catullus to Propertius, and 
 formed a sort of link between the two most illustrious 
 periods of Latin literature. 
 
 The other person whom Cicero sent to Caesar was his 
 brother Quintus. As he holds a large place in Cicero's 
 life, and played a rather important part in the Gallic war, 
 it will be proper, I think, to say a few words about him. 
 Although he listened to the same lectures and learned from 
 the same masters as his brother, he never had any taste 
 for eloquence, and always refused to speak in public. 
 " One orator," he said, " is enough in a family, and even 
 in a city."i He was of a hard and yet changeable dis- 
 position, and gave way to violent fits of anger without 
 reason. In spite of an appearance of great energy he was 
 soon discouraged, and although he always affected to be 
 ' De orat. ii. 3. 
 
236 CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 the master, he was led by those about him. These faults, 
 that Cicero bewailed to himself although he tried to excuse 
 them, prevented Quintus succeeding in his public career, 
 and troubled his private life. 
 
 He had been early married to Pomponia, the sister of 
 Atticus. This marriage that the two friends had hoped 
 would draw closer their connection very nearly broke it. 
 The couple found that their characters matched too well": 
 both were hasty and passionate, and they could never 
 agree, and the unbounded ascendency that Statius, a slave, 
 had over his master's mind completed the disunion of the 
 household. In connection with this, it would be easy to 
 show, from Cicero's letters, what influence the slave often 
 exercised in ancient families; a much greater one than is 
 commonly supposed. Now that the servant is free, it would 
 seem natural that he should take a more important place 
 in our houses than before. But the contrary has happened ; 
 he has lost in influence what he has gained in dignity. When 
 he became independent his master ceased to have any 
 obligations towards him. They now live together bound by 
 a temporary contract, which, by imposing reciprocal obliga- 
 tions, appears irksome to both sides. As this fragile bond 
 may be broken at any moment, and as these allies of one 
 day may become indifferent to each other or enemies on the 
 next, there is no longer any ease or confidence between them, 
 and they pass all the time during which chance brings them 
 together in surrounding themselves with defences, and in 
 watching one another. It was quite otherwise in antiquity 
 when slavery was flourishing. Then, it was not for a short 
 time only, it was for a whole life-time that they were 
 united ; accordingly, they set themselves to know each other, 
 and to adapt themselves one to the other. To gain the 
 master's favour was the important thing for the future of 
 the slave, and he took trouble to gain it. As he had no 
 
CAESAR AND CICERO 237 
 
 position to defend, or dignity to preserve, he gave himself 
 up to him entirely. He flattered and served his worst 
 passions without scruple, and at last made himself necessary 
 to him. Once confirmed in this intimacy, by his constant 
 subserviency, by private and secret services which his 
 master was not afraid to demand, and which he never 
 refused to give, he ruled the family, so that, however strange 
 it may appear at first sight, it is true to say that the servant 
 was never nearer being master than when he was a slave. 
 This is what happened to Statins. Through the knowledge 
 that he had of the defects of Quintus, he had insinuated 
 himself so well into his confidence that the whole family 
 gave way to him. Pomponia alone resisted, and the annoy- 
 ance she suffered for this reason made her still more 
 insupportable. She constantly worried her husband with 
 unfriendly remarks ; she refused to appear at the dinners 
 that he gave on the pretext that she was only a stranger at 
 home, or if she consented to be present, it was only to 
 make the guests the witnesses of the most unpleasant scenes. 
 It was, no doubt, one day when she was more peevish and 
 cross-grained than usual that Quintus composed these two 
 epigrams, the only examples that remain of his poetic 
 talent. 
 
 " Trust your ship to the winds, but do not give up your 
 soul to a woman. There is less safety in a woman's words 
 than in the caprices of the waves." 
 
 " No woman is good ; or if by chance you find a good 
 woman, I know not by what strange fate a bad thing has 
 become good in a moment." 
 
 These two epigrams are not very gallant, but we must 
 excuse them in the unfortunate husband of the shrewish 
 Pomponia. 
 
 The political career of Quintus was not brilliant any more 
 than his private life was happy. He owed the offices which 
 
238 CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 he obtained more to the illustrious name of his brother than 
 to his own merit, and did nothing to make himself worthy 
 of them. After he had been aedile and praetor, he was 
 appointed governor of Asia. To be invested with an 
 unlimited authority was a severe test for a character like 
 his. Absolute power turned his head ; his violence, which 
 nothing now restrained, knew no bounds ; like an oriental 
 despot he only talked of burning and hanging. He wished 
 above all to obtain the glory of being a great lover of justice. 
 Having had occasion to order two parricides to be sewn up 
 in a sack and thrown into the water in the lower part of his 
 province, he wished to give the same spectacle to the other 
 part on his visit to it, that there might be no jealousy between 
 them. He sought therefore to seize a certain Zeuxis, an 
 important person, who had been accused of killing his 
 mother, and who had been acquitted by the tribunals. On 
 the arrival of the governor, Zeuxis, who guessed his inten- 
 tions, fled, and Quintus, vexed at losing his parricide, wrote 
 him mest friendly letters to induce him to return. Usually, 
 however, he dissembled less and spoke more openly. He 
 sent word to one of his lieutenants to seize and burn alive 
 a certain Licinius and his son who had embezzled. He 
 wrote to a Roman knight named Catienus " that he hoped 
 to have him suffocated one day in the smoke, with the 
 applause of the province." ^ It is true that when he was 
 reproached with having written these furious letters, he 
 replied that they were simple jokes, and that he had wished 
 to laugh for a moment, but it was a strange way of joking, 
 and shows his barbarous nature. Quintus had none the 
 less an enlightened mind, he had read Plato and Xenophon, 
 he spoke Greek admirably well, he even wrote tragedies in 
 his leisure hours. He had all the appearance of a polished 
 and civilized man, but it was only the appearance. Even 
 
 ■' Ad Quint, i. 2. 
 
CAESAR AND CICERO 239 
 
 among the most well-bred Romans, civilization was often 
 only on the surface, and under their polished, exterior we 
 often find the rough and savage soul of a pitiless race of 
 soldiers. 
 
 Quintus came back from his province with a rather bad 
 reputation, but, what is more surprising, he did not come 
 back rich. Apparently he had embezzled less than his 
 colleagues, and was not able to bring back enough money 
 to restore his fortune, which was very much embarrassed by 
 his extravagance ; for he liked to buy and to build, like his 
 brother ; he had a taste for rare books, and probably also 
 could refuse nothing to his favourite slaves. The exile of 
 Cicero completed the confusion of his affairs, and at the 
 time of his brother's return Quintus was quite ruined. This 
 did not prevent him, at the time of his greatest financial 
 distress, rebuilding his house at Rome, and buying a country 
 house at Arpinum and another in the suburbs, constructing 
 in his villa at Arcae, baths, porticoes, fish-ponds, and such a 
 fine road that it was taken for a work of the state. It is true 
 that the poverty of a Roman of that time would make the 
 fortune of many of our nobles. However, a day came when 
 Quintus was altogether in the hands of his creditors, and 
 when he could borrow no more. Then it was that he 
 bethought him of the last resource of embarrassed debtors : 
 he went to Caesar. 
 
 It was not, then, only the love of glory that attracted 
 Quintus to Gaul ; he went there, like so many others, to 
 get rich. Up to that time, the results had not answered 
 to men's expectations, and they had not found among 
 people like the Belgae and Germani all the treasures that 
 they looked for ; but they were not yet discouraged ; rather 
 than give up their brilliant fancies, after each disappoint- 
 ment, they put farther off that enchanted country where 
 they thought they must find riches. As at this moment 
 
240 CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 they were going to attack Britain, it was in Britain that they 
 placed it. Every one expected to make a fortune there, and 
 Caesar himself, by what Suetonius says, hoped to bring back 
 many pearls.^ These expectations were deceived once more ; 
 in Britain were neither pearls nor gold mines. They had a 
 great deal of trouble to take a few slaves who were not of 
 much value, for it was no use thinking of making them men 
 of letters and musicians. For all wealth, these men only 
 possessed heavy chariots, from which they fought with 
 courage. Accordingly Cicero wrote humorously to 
 Trebatius, who sent him news of this ill-luck of the 
 army : " Since you find there neither gold nor silver, my 
 opinion is that you should carry off one of those British 
 chariots, and should come to us at Rome without stop- 
 ping." 2 Quintus was very much of the same opinion. 
 Although he had been well received by Caesar, who had 
 appointed him his lieutenant, when he saw that wealth did 
 not come as quickly as he expected, he lost courage, and, 
 like Trebatius, he had for a moment the idea of returning ; 
 but Cicero, who did not joke this time, prevented him. 
 
 He did him a very great service, for it was precisely 
 during the winter that followed the war in Britain that 
 Quintus had the opportunity of performing the heroic 
 action that commended his name to the respect of military 
 men. Although he read Sophocles with ardour and had 
 written tragedies, he was at bottom only a soldier. In the 
 presence of the enemy, he became himself again, and dis- 
 played an energy that had not been suspected in him. In the 
 midst of populations which were in revolt, in entrenchments 
 hastily raised in one night, and with a single legion only, he 
 was able to defend the camp Caesar had entrusted to him, 
 and to make head against innumerable enemies, who had 
 just destroyed a Roman army. He replied in firm language 
 ^ Cues. 47. 2 Adfam. vii, 7. 
 
CAESAR AND CICERO 241 
 
 to their insolent boasts. Although he was ill, he displayed 
 incredible activity, and it was only after a sedition among his 
 soldiers that he could be induced to take care of himself. 
 I have no need to relate the details of this affair that Caesar 
 has told so well in his Commentaries, and which is one of 
 the most glorious incidents of the Gallic war. This grand 
 feat of arms raises Quintus in our esteem; it effaces the 
 meannesses of his character, and helps him to play with 
 a little more credit the ungrateful and difficult part of 
 younger brother of a great man. 
 
 III. 
 
 Cicero had clearly foreseen that, although Caesar in 
 writing his Commentaries professed only to prepare materials 
 for history, the perfection of his work would prevent sensible 
 men from attempting to re-write it. Accordingly Plutarch 
 and Dio have taken care not to re-write it ; they are con- 
 tented to epitomize it, and now we only know the; Gallic 
 war by the narrative of him who was the hero of it. How- 
 ever perfect the narrative may be, or rather because of its 
 very perfection, we have much difficulty in contenting our- 
 selves with it. It is the characteristic of these great works, 
 which, as we might think, ought to exhaust public curiosity, 
 on the contrary, to make it more active. By interesting us 
 in the facts which they relate, they excite in us the desire 
 to know them better, and one of the surest marks of their 
 success is that they do not suffice for the readers, and make 
 them wish to know more than they tell. This desire, for 
 fresh details on the most important events of history, it is 
 which renders Cicero's letters to Trebatius and to his 
 brother so valuable for us. Although they are fewer in 
 number and shorter than we could wish, they have the 
 merit of adding some information to that which Caesar 
 
242 CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 gives on his campaigns. As they are more familiar than a 
 narrative composed for the public, they introduce us farther 
 into the private life of the conqueror of Gaul, and they 
 permit us to see him in his tent, at those times of leisure 
 and repose, of which he has not thought of speaking to us 
 himself. This is certainly an interesting spectacle, it is the 
 true complement of the Commentaries, and we cannot do 
 better than carefully collect the scattered details they con- 
 tain, in order to become well acquainted with Caesar and 
 his surroundings. 
 
 I imagine that Caesar's army did not resemble those old 
 Roman armies that are depicted to us in such grave and 
 temperate guise, always trembling under the rod of the 
 lictors, and submissive at all times to an inflexible dis- 
 cipline. It was, doubtless, sternly controlled in time of 
 danger, and never complained of this. No other army has 
 ever undergone greater fatigues and executed greater deeds ; 
 but when the danger was over discipline relaxed. Caesar 
 allowed his soldiers rest, and sometimes diversion. He let 
 them decorate themselves with splendid arms, and even 
 adorn themselves with studied elegance. " What does it 
 matter if they use perfumes?" he said, "they will know very 
 well how to fight."! j^jjd in fact these soldiers, whom 
 the Pompeians called effeminate, are the same who, though 
 dying of hunger at Dyrrhachium, declared that they would 
 eat the bark of the trees rather than let Pompey escape. 
 They were recruited for the most part among those Cisalpine 
 Gauls from whom Roman civilization had not taken the 
 good qualities of their race, an amiable and brilliant people 
 who loved war and carried it on gaily. The chiefs very 
 much resembled the common soldiers; they were lively 
 and ardent, full of resources in critical moments, and trusted 
 more to inspiration than to routine. It is to be remarked 
 1 Suet. Caes. 67. 
 
CAESAR AND CICERO 243 
 
 that no one of them had gained his reputation in earlier 
 wars. Caesar seems to have wished that their military glory 
 should come from him only. A few, and among these 
 Labienus, perhaps the greatest of them, were his political 
 friends, old conspirators like himself, who, after his example, 
 and without any more preparation, from popular agitators 
 had become excellent generals. Others, on the contrary, like 
 Fabius Maximus and Servius Galba, bore illustrious names ; 
 they were partisans whom he secured in the aristocracy, or 
 hostages that he took from it. The greater number, Cras- 
 sus, Plancus, Volcatius TuUus, Decimus Brutus, and later 
 Pollio, were young men whom he treated with marked 
 preference, and whom he readily trusted in perilous enter- 
 prises. He liked the young by personal preference, and 
 also by policy : as they did not yet belong to any party, 
 and had not had time to attach themselves to the republic 
 by serving it, he hoped they would have less difficulty in 
 accustoming themselves to the new rigime that he wished 
 to establish. 
 
 These lieutenants, whose number varied, did not alone 
 form the ordinary retinue of a proconsul. We must re- 
 member to add that crowd of young Romans, sons of 
 illustrious houses, destined by their birth for public office, 
 who came to serve their apprenticeship in war under him. 
 They were called his tent-comrades, contubernaks. Soldiers 
 like the rest, and exposing themselves on the day of battle, 
 they became after the fight the friends, the companions of 
 the chief whom they followed in all his expeditions, as the 
 clients accompanied their patron in the city. They were 
 present at his receptions, took part in all his recreations 
 and diversions, sat at his table, surrounded him when he sat 
 on the judgment-seat ; they formed, in sum, what was called 
 the cohort, we should almost say the court, of the praetor 
 {praetoria cohors). Scipio Africanus, it is said, invented 
 
244 CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 this means of adding splendour to the pubUc display of 
 the supreme power in the eyes of the conquered nations, 
 and after him governors had taken great care to preserve 
 all this pomp which added to their prestige. These were 
 not all ; by the side of these military men there was room 
 for men of very various abiUties and positions. Able 
 financiers, intelligent secretaries, and even learned lawyers 
 might be necessary for the administration of those vast 
 countries that a proconsul governed. Thus Trebatius him- 
 self, the pacific Trebatius, was not out of place in the train 
 of an army, and he had opportunities of exercising his pro- 
 fession even among the Nervii and the Belgae. If we add 
 to these men, to whom their high ofhces gave a certain 
 importance, a crowd of inferior officers or subaltern servants, 
 such as lictors, ushers, scribes, interpreters, apparitors, 
 doctors, men-servants, and even soothsayers, we shall have 
 some idea of that truly royal retinue which a proconsul 
 always carried about with him. 
 
 Caesar's train must have been even more magnificent 
 than that of others. The ten legions that he commanded, 
 the extent of country that he had to conquer and govern, 
 explain the great number of officers and persons of all sorts 
 by whom he was surrounded. Moreover, he naturally loved 
 magnificence. He readily welcomed all who came to see 
 him, and always found some office to give them in order to 
 retain them. Even in those wild countries he took pleasure 
 in astonishing them by his reception. Suetonius relates 
 that he took with him everywhere marquetry or mosaic 
 floors, and that he had always two tables laid at which rich 
 Romans who visited him and provincials of distinction took 
 their places.^ His lieutenants imitated him, and Pinarius 
 wrote to Cicero that he was delighted with the dinners his 
 brother gave him.^ Caesar did not care much for these 
 ^ Suet. Cues. 46, 48. ^ Ad Quint, iii. i. 
 
CAESAR AND CICERO 245 
 
 sumptuous repasts, and these rich dwellings, on his own 
 account. We know that he was temperate, that in case of 
 need he could sleep well in the open air, and eat rancid oil 
 without blinking ; but he had a taste for display and luxury. 
 Although the republic still existed, he was almost a king ; 
 even in his camps in Britain and Germany he had assiduous 
 followers and courtiers. He could only be approached with 
 difficulty; Trebatius made the attempt, and we know that 
 it was a long time before he could reach him. No doubt 
 Caesar did not receive men with that stiff and solemn 
 majesty that repelled them in Pompey; but, however 
 gracious he might wish to be, there was always something 
 in him that inspired respect, and it was felt that that ease 
 of manner that he affected with everybody proceeded from 
 a superiority which was sure of itself. This defender of the 
 democracy was none the less an aristocrat who never forgot 
 his birth, and willingly spoke of his ancestors. Had they 
 not heard him, at the commencement of his political life, 
 at the very time when he attacked with most vivacity the 
 institutions of Sulla, and tried to get back their ancient 
 powers for the tribunes, had they not heard him pronounce 
 over his aunt a funeral oration full of genealogical fictions, 
 in which he complacently related that his family was de- 
 scended at once from the kings and the gods? But in 
 this he only followed the traditions of the Gracchi, his 
 illustrious predecessors. They also defended public interests 
 with ardour, but they called to mind the aristocracy from 
 which they had sprung by the haughty elegance of their 
 manners. We know that they had a court of clients at 
 their rising, and that they were the first who thought 
 of making distinctions between them which resembled 
 the public and private admissions to the court of 
 Louis XIV. 
 
 The most remarkable thing in those around Caesar was 
 
246 CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 their love of letters. Assuredly they belonged no longer to 
 the times when Roman generals burnt master-pieces of art, 
 or took a pride in being ignorant. Since Mummius and 
 Marius, letters had succeeded in penetrating even the 
 camps, which, as we know, are not their usual abode. 
 Nevertheless, I do not think that so many enlightened men 
 of letters, so many men of culture and men of fashion have 
 ever been seen united in any other army. Almost all 
 Caesar's lieutenants were private friends of Cicero, and 
 they took pleasure in maintaining a constant intercourse 
 with him who was regarded as the official patron of literature 
 at Rome. Crassus and Plancus had learnt eloquence in 
 pleading at his side, and in what remains to us of the letters 
 of Plancus, we recognize, by a certain oratorical exuberance, 
 that he had profited by his lessons. Trebonius, the con- 
 queror of Marseilles, professed to relish his witticisms very 
 much, and even published a collection of them. Cicero, 
 however, to whom this admiration was not displeasing, 
 thought that his editor had put too much of himself into 
 the introduction under pretence of preparing the effect of 
 the jokes and making them easier to understand. " They 
 have exhausted their laughter," he said, " when they get to 
 me." Hirtius was a distinguished historian, who undertook 
 later to finish the Commentaries of his chief. Matius, a 
 devoted friend of Caesar, who showed himself worthy of 
 this friendship by remaining faithful to him, translated the 
 Iliad into Latin verse. Quintus was a poet also, but a 
 tragic poet. During the winter that he had to fight the 
 Nervii, he was seized with such an ardour for poetry, that 
 he composed four pieces in sixteen days : but this was to 
 treat tragedy in a somewhat military fashion. He sent the 
 one he thought the best, the Erigone, to his brother ; but 
 it was lost on the road. " Since Caesar has commanded 
 in Gaul," said Cicero, " the Erigone alone has not been able 
 
CAESAR AND CICERO 247 
 
 to travel in safety." ^ It is surprising no doubt to meet all 
 at one time with so many generals who are also men of 
 letters ; but what is still more astonishing is that all those 
 Roman knights who followed the army, and whom Caesar 
 made his commissaries and purveyors, collectors of stores, 
 and farmers of the taxes, seem to have loved literature more 
 than their habits and occupations usually admit. We find 
 one of those he employed in offices of this kind, Lepta, 
 thanking Cicero for sending him a treatise on rhetoric as 
 though he were a man capable of appreciating the present. 
 The Spaniard Balbus, that intelligent banker, that skilful 
 administrator, who was able to put the finances of Rome 
 into such good order, and what was still more difficult, 
 those of Caesar, loved philosophy with more enthusiasm 
 than one would expect in a banker. He hastened to have 
 Cicero's works copied before they were known to the public, 
 and although he was by character the most discreet of men, 
 he went so far as even to commit indiscretions in order to 
 be the first to read them. 
 
 But among all these lettered men, it was Caesar who had 
 the most decided taste for letters : they suited his cultivated 
 nature ; they seemed to him, no doubt, the most agreeable 
 exercise and relaxation of an accomplished mind. I should 
 not, however, venture to say that his love for them was 
 wholly disinterested, when I see that this taste assisted his 
 policy so wonderfully. He was compelled to gain public 
 favour by every means ; now, nothing attracts the general 
 judgment more than the superiority of intelligence united 
 with that of force. His principal works were composed with 
 this intention, and we might say, from this point of view, 
 that his writings were part of his actions. It was not only 
 to please a few idle men of letters that, during the latter part 
 of his stay in Gaul, he wrote his Cotnmentaries with such a 
 ' Ad Quint, iii. 9. 
 
248 CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 rapidity as to astonish his friends. He wished to prevent 
 the Romans forgetting his victories ; he wished, by his 
 admirable manner of narrating them, to renew, and if 
 possible, to increase, the effect they had produced. When 
 he composed his two books De Analogta, he calculated that 
 people would be struck by seeing the general of an army, 
 who, according to the expression of Fronto, " busied him- 
 self with the formation of words while arrows were cleaving 
 the air, and sought the laws of language amid the din of 
 clarions and trumpets." He knew very well the advantage 
 that his reputation would draw from these very diverse 
 performances, and how great would be the surprise and ad- 
 miration at Rome when they received at the same moment 
 a treatise on grammar, and the news of a new victory, from 
 such a distance. The same thought also made him eager 
 for Cicero's friendship. If his refined and distinguished 
 nature found a great pleasure in keeping up some inter- 
 course with a man of so much cultivation, he was not 
 ignorant of the power this man exercised over public 
 opinion, and how far his praises would resound when they 
 came from this eloquent mouth. We have lost the letters 
 that he wrote to Cicero ; but as Cicero was delighted with 
 them, and it was not very easy to please him, we must 
 believe that they were filled with flatteries and caresses. 
 Cicero's answers were also full of the most lively protesta- 
 tions of friendship. He declared at that time that Caesar 
 came in his affections immediately after his children, and in- 
 deed almost in the same rank ; he bitterly deplored all the 
 prejudices that had up till then kept him apart from him, 
 and he resolved to make him forget that he was one of the 
 last who had entered into his friendship. " I shall imitate," 
 said he, " the travellers who have risen later than they wished 
 to do ; they double their speed, and make such good haste, 
 that they arrive at their destination before those who have 
 
CAESAR AND CICERO 249 
 
 travelled part of the night." ^ They vied with each other, 
 as it were, in compliments; they overwhelmed one another 
 with flatteries, and emulated each other in works in verse 
 and prose. On reading the first accounts of the expedition 
 to Britain, Cicero exclaimed in a transport of enthusiasm r 
 " What prodigious events ! what a country ! what people ! 
 what battles, and above all, what a general ! " He wrote 
 off immediately to his brother : " Give me Britain to paint ; 
 furnish me with the colours, I will use the brush." ^ And 
 he had seriously taken in hand an epic poem on this con- 
 quest, which his occupations prevented him completing as 
 quickly as he wished. Caesar, on his part, dedicated his 
 treatise De Analogia to Cicero, and on this occasion said 
 to him in splendid phrases : "You have discovered all the 
 resources of eloquence, and are the first to use them. In 
 virtue of this you have deserved well of the Roman name, 
 and you do honour to our country. You have obtained the 
 most illustrious of all honours, and a triumph preferable to 
 those of the greatest generals, for it is better to extend the 
 boundaries of the mind than to enlarge the limits of the 
 empire ! " ^ This, coming from a victorious general like 
 Caesar, was the most delicate flattery for a man of letters. 
 
 Such were the relations that Cicero kept up with Caesar 
 and his officers during the Gallic war. His correspondence, 
 which preserves the memory of them, makes us better ac- 
 quainted with the tastes and preferences of all these men of 
 cultivation, and shows them to us in a very living fashion 
 and draws us closer to them. This is, assuredly, one of 
 the greatest services it could render to us. We seem, when 
 we have read it, to be able to understand of what kind the 
 meetings of these men must have been, and can imagine 
 ourselves present at their conversations. We are entitled to 
 
 1 Ad Quint, ii. 15. ^ Ibid. ii. 16. 
 
 3 Cic. Brut. 72, and Pliny, Hist. nat. vii. 30. 
 
250 CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 suppose that Rome took up very much of their thoughts. 
 From the depths of Gaul, they had their eyes upon it, and it 
 was to make a little stir there that they took so much trouble. 
 While marching over so many unknown countries from the 
 Rhine to the Ocean, all these young men hoped that they 
 would be talked about at those feasts and assemblies where 
 men of the world discussed public affairs. Caesar himself, 
 when he crossed the Rhine on his wooden bridge, reckoned 
 upon striking the imaginations of all those idlers who met 
 together in the Forum, at the rostrum, to learn the news. After 
 the landing of his troops in Britain, we see him hastening 
 to write to his friends, and especially to Cicero ; ^ not that 
 he had much leisure at that moment, but he looked upon it 
 no doubt as an honour to date his letter from a country where 
 no Roman had yet set foot. If he was anxious to send 
 glorious news to Rome, they were also very glad to receive 
 it from Rome. All the letters that arrived were read with 
 eagerness ; they seemed as it were to carry even to Germany 
 and Britain a whiff of that fashionable life, which those who 
 have enjoyed can never forget or cease to regret. It was 
 not enough for Caesar to read the journals of the Roman 
 people, which contained a dry summary of the principal 
 political events, and a concise report of the proceedings of 
 the assemblies of the people. His messengers constantly 
 traversed Gaul, bringing him letters accurate and full of the 
 most minute details. " He is told everything," said Cicero, 
 "small as well as great." ^ This news, impatiently waited 
 for, and commented on with pleasure, must have been the 
 usual subject of his conversations with his friends. I 
 
 1 Caesar wrote to Cicero twice from Britain. The first letter took 
 twenty-six days to reach Rome, and the second twenty-eight. This 
 was quick travelling for tliat time, and we see that Caesar must have 
 organized his mail-service well. Furthermore, we know his stay in 
 Britain was very short. 
 
 ^ Ad Quint, iii. I. 
 
CAESAR AND CICERO 251 
 
 suppose that, at that sumptuous table of which I have 
 spoken, after literature and grammar had been discussed, 
 and they had listened to the verses of Matius or Quintus, 
 the conversation turned especially upon Rome, of which 
 these elegant young men, who regretted its pleasures, were 
 never tired of talking. Certainly, if we could have heard 
 them chatting about the last news, the political disorders, 
 or, what interested them more, the private scandals of the 
 city, telling the last rumours afloat, and quoting the most 
 recent jokes, we should have found it difficult to believe 
 that we were in the heart of the country of the Belgae, or 
 near to the Rhine or the Ocean, or on the eve of a battle. 
 I imagine that we should have rather fancied we were 
 present at a party of clever men in some aristocratic house 
 on the Palatine or in the rich quarter of Carinae. 
 
 Cicero's letters render us yet another service. They show 
 us the prodigious effect that Caesar's victories produced at 
 Rome. They excited as much surprise as admiration, for 
 they were discoveries as well as conquests. What was 
 known before him of those distant countries? A few 
 ridiculous fables that traders related on their return, to give 
 themselves importance. It was through Caesar that they 
 were first really known. He first dared to attack, and he 
 vanquished those Germans who have been depicted as giants, 
 whose very looks caused terror ; he first adventured as far 
 as Britain, where it was said the night lasted three entire 
 months, and all the wonders that had been related gave as 
 it were a tinge of the marvellous to his victories. Neverthe- 
 less, not everybody willingly gave way to this fascination. 
 The most clear-sighted of the aristocratic party, who felt, 
 though indistinctly, that it was the fate of the republic that 
 was being decided on the banks of the Rhine, wished to 
 recall Caesar, and to appoint in his place another general, 
 who might not perhaps complete the conquest of Gaul, but 
 
252 CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 who would not be tempted to carry out that of his own 
 country. Cato, who pushed everything to extremes, when 
 the senate was asked to vote a thanksgiving to the gods for 
 the defeat of Ariovistus, dared to propose, on the contrary, 
 ihat they should deliver up the conqueror to the Germans. 
 But these objections did not change public opinion, which 
 declared itself in favour of him who had just conquered 
 with such rapidity so many unknown countries. The 
 knights, who had become the financiers and merchants of 
 Rome, congratulated themselves on seeing immense countries 
 opened up to their operations. Caesar, who wished to 
 attach them to him, invited them to follow him, and his 
 first care had been to open them a road across the Alps. 
 The common people, who love military glory and who 
 freely give way to enthusiasm, were never tired of admiring 
 him who extended the limits of the Roman world. On the 
 news of each victory, Rome had public rejoicings, and 
 offered thanksgivings to the gods. After the defeat of the 
 Belgae, the senate, under pressure of public opinion, was 
 compelled to vote fifteen days of solemn thanksgiving, which 
 had never been done for anybody. Twenty days was 
 decreed, when the success of the expedition against Germany 
 was reported, and twenty more after the taking of Alesia. 
 Cicero usually demanded these honours for Caesar, and he 
 became the mouthpiece of the public admiration when he 
 said in his noble language ; " This is the first time we have 
 dared to attack the Gauls, hitherto we have been content 
 to repulse them. The other generals of the Roman people 
 regarded it as sufficient for their glory to prevent them 
 invading us ; Caesar has gone to seek them out in their 
 own homes. Our general, our legions, our arms have over- 
 run those countries of which no history has ever spoken, of 
 whose name the world was ignorant. We had only a foot- 
 path in Gaul; now the boundaries of these nations have 
 
CAESAR AND CICERO 253 
 
 become the frontiers of our own empire. It is not without 
 the signal favour of Providence that nature gave the Alps 
 for a rampart to Italy. If the entrance had been free to 
 this multitude of barbarians, Rome never would have been 
 the centre and the seat of the empire of the world. Now 
 let insurmountable mountains sink. From the Alps to the 
 Ocean Italy has nothing now to fear." ^ 
 
 These magnificent eulogies, for which Cicero has been so 
 much blamed, are easily understood however, and, whatever 
 politicians may say, it is easy to explain the enthusiasm that 
 so many honest and sensible people then felt for Caesar, 
 That which justified the unreserved admiration that his 
 conquests caused, was less their grandeur than their 
 necessity. They might threaten the future, at that moment 
 they were indispensable. They later endangered the hberty 
 of Rome, but they assured her existence then.^ The 
 patriotic instinct of the people let them divine what 
 prejudice and fear, although quite legitimate, hid from the 
 aristocracy. They understood in a confused way all the 
 dangers that might soon come from Gaul, if they did not 
 hasten to subdue it. It was not, in truth, the. Gauls who 
 were to be feared — their decadence had already commenced, 
 and they no longer thought of making conquests — it was 
 the Germans. Dio is quite wrong in asserting that Caesar 
 wantonly stirred up wars for the sake of his glory. What- 
 ever advantage he drew from them, we may certainly say 
 that he rather submitted to them than provoked them. It 
 was not Rome that went to seek the Germans at that time, 
 but rather the Germans who came boldly towards [her. 
 When Caesar 'was appointed proconsul, Ariovistus occupied 
 part of the country of the Sequani and wished to seize the 
 rest. His compatriots, attracted by the fertility of this fine 
 
 1 Depmv Cons. 13, 14. 
 
 2 M, Mommsen completely settles this in his Roman History. 
 
254 CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 country, were crossing the Rhine every day to join him, 
 and twenty-five thousand had come at one time. What 
 would have happened to Italy if, while Rome was losing 
 her strength in intestine struggles, the Suevi and the 
 Sicambri had established themselves on the Rhone and the 
 Alps? The invasion averted by Marius a century before 
 was recommencing ; it might have caused the downfall of 
 Rome then as it did four centuries later, if Caesar had not 
 arrested it. His glory is to have thrown back the Germans 
 beyond the Rhine, as it was to the honour of the empire 
 to have kept them there for more than three hundred years. 
 But this was not the sole or even ;the greatest effect 
 of Caesar's victories. In conquering Gaul, he rendered it 
 entirely and for ever Roman. That marvellous rapidity 
 with which Rome then assimilated the Gauls can only be 
 understood, when we know in what a state she had found 
 them. They were not altogether barbarians like the 
 Germans ; it is to be remarked that their conqueror, who 
 knew them well, does not call them so in his Commentaries. 
 They had great cities, a regular system of taxation, a body 
 of religious beliefs, an ambitious and powerful aristocracy, 
 and a sort of national education directed by the priests. 
 This culture, although imperfect, if it had not entirely 
 enlightened their minds, had at least awakened them. 
 They were frank and inquisitive, intelligent enough to know 
 what they were deficient in, and sufficiently free from 
 prejudice to give up their usages when they found better 
 ones. From the very beginning of the war, they suc- 
 ceeded in imitating the Roman tactics, in constructing 
 siege machines, and in working them with a skill to which 
 Caesar does justice. They were still rude and unpolished, 
 but already quite inclined for a superior civilization for 
 which they had the desire and instinct. This explains 
 how they did so readily accept it. They had fought for 
 
CAESAR AND CICERO 255 
 
 ten years against the domination of the foreigner ; they did 
 not hesitate for a day to adopt his language and usages. 
 We may say that Gaul resembled those lands, parched by a 
 burning sun, which drink in with such avidity the first drops 
 of rain ; so completely did she imbibe the Roman civiUzation 
 for which she longed before she knew it, that after so 
 many centuries, and in spite of so many revolutions, she 
 has not yet lost the mark of it ; and this is the only thing 
 that has endured to the present time in this country where 
 everything changes. Caesar, then, did not only add a few 
 new territories to the possessions of Rome; the present 
 that he made her was greater and more useful ; he gave her 
 an entire people, intelligent, and civilized almost as soon 
 as conquered, which, becoming Roman in heart as well as 
 in language, sinking her interests in those of her new 
 nationality, enlisting in her legions to defend her, and 
 throwing herself with a remarkable ardour and talent into 
 the study of the arts and letters, shed a new lustre over her, 
 and for a long time gave a new youth and a return of vigour 
 to the failing empire. 
 
 While these great events were passing in Gaul, Rome 
 continued to be the theatre of the most shameful disorders. 
 There was no longer any government; scarcely did they 
 succeed in electing magistrates, and there was a fight every 
 time the people assembled in the Forum or in the Campus 
 Martins. These disorders, of which honest men were 
 ashamed, added still more to the effect that Caesar's 
 victories produced. What a contrast was there between 
 the battles fought with Ariovistus or Vercingetorix and 
 those combats of gladiators that stained the streets of 
 Rome with blood ! And how glorious appeared the taking 
 of Agendicum or Alesia to people who were only occupied 
 with the siege of Milo's house by Clodius or the assassination 
 of Clodius by Milo ! All the statesmen who had remained 
 
256 CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 in Rome, Pompey as well as Cicero, had lost something of 
 their dignity by mixing themselves up in these intrigues. 
 Caesar, who had withdrawn in time, was the only man who 
 had risen amidst the general degradation. Therefore all 
 those whose heart was wounded by these sad spectacles, 
 and who had some care for Roman honour, kept their eyes 
 fixed upon him and his army. As happened at certain 
 moments of our own revolution, military glory consoled 
 honest men for scandals and distress at home. At the 
 same time, the excess of the evil caused men to seek an 
 efficacious remedy everywhere. The idea began to spread 
 that, in order to obtain repose, it was necessary to create 
 a strong and durable power. After Cicero's exile, the 
 aruspices had predicted that the monarchy was about to 
 recommence,^ and one did not need to be a prophet to an- 
 ticipate this. A few years later, the evil having increased still 
 more, the republican party itself, notwithstanding its repug- 
 nance, was forced to have recourse to the violent remedy 
 of a temporary dictatorship. Pompey was appointed sole 
 consul, but Pompey had shown more than once that he had 
 neither the vigour nor the resolution necessary to overcome 
 anarchy entirely. A stronger arm and a more determined 
 will had to be sought elsewhere, and all eyes turned naturally 
 towards the conqueror of Gaul. His glory pointed him 
 out for this part ; the hopes of some and the fears of others 
 called him to fulfil it; men's minds became accustomed 
 every day to the idea that he would be the heir of the 
 republic, and the revolution that delivered up Rome to him 
 was more than half accomplished when he crossed the 
 Rubicon. 
 
 ^ De Arusp. resp. 25. 
 
II 
 
 THE VICTOR AND THE VANQUISHED 
 
 AFTER PHARSALIA 
 
 The civil war interrupted the intercourse that Cicero 
 had kept up with Caesar during the Gallic war. He hesi- 
 tated for a long time to take part in it, and it was after long 
 indecision that the stings of conscience, the fear of public 
 opinion, and above all the example of his friends decided 
 him at length to start for Pompey's camp. " As the ox fol- 
 lows the herd," said he, " I go to join the good citizens;" i 
 but he went half-heartedly and without hope. After Phar- 
 salia he did not think it was possible to continue the 
 struggle : he said so openly in a council of the republican 
 chiefs held at Dyrrhachium, and he hastened to return to 
 Brundusium to hold himself at the disposal of the conqueror. 
 
 What regret must he not have felt, if his thoughts went 
 back several years, and he remembered his triumphal 
 return from exile ! In that very town, where he had been 
 received with so much rejoicing, he was constrained to dis- 
 embark furtively, to conceal his lictors, to avoid the crowd, 
 and only go out at night. He passed eleven months there, 
 the saddest of his life, in isolation and anxiety. He was dis- 
 tressed on all sides, and his domestic affairs did not cause 
 him less sorrow than public events. His absence had com- 
 pleted the disorder of his pecuniary affairs. When they 
 were most involved, he had been so imprudent as to lend 
 1 AdAtt. vii. 7. 
 
 257 S 
 
258 CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 what ready money he had to Pompey : the poniard of the 
 King of Egypt had at the same time carried off the debtor and 
 put an end to his power of paying. While he was trying to 
 procure some resources by selling his furniture and plate, he 
 discovered that his wife was acting in concert with his freed- 
 men to despoil him of what remained ; he learnt that his 
 brother and his nephew, who had gone over to Caesar, 
 sought to justify themselves at his expense, and were work- 
 ing to ruin him in order to save themselves ; he saw Tullia, 
 his beloved daughter, again, but he found her sad and ill, 
 lamenting at the same time the misfortunes of her father, 
 and the infidelity of her husband. To these very real mis- 
 fortunes were joined at the same time imaginary troubles, 
 which caused him as much suffering ; above all, he was 
 tormented by his habitual irresolution. Scarcely had he 
 set foot in Italy when he repented having come. Ac- 
 cording to his habit, his restless imagination always puts 
 things at their worst, and he is ingenious in finding some 
 reason for discontent in everything that happens to him. 
 He laments when Antony wishes to force him to leave 
 Italy ; when he is allowed to remain, he still laments, be- 
 cause this exception made in his favour may injure his 
 reputation. If Caesar neglects to write to him, he is 
 alarmed ; if he receives a letter from him, however friendly 
 it may be, he weighs all its expressions so carefully that he 
 discovers at last some motive for fear; even the broadest 
 and most complete amnesty does not entirely remove his 
 fears. "When a man pardons so easily," he says, "it is 
 because he defers his vengeance." ^ 
 
 At last, after a sojourn of nearly a year in that noisy and 
 pestilential town, he was permitted to leave Brundusiura. He 
 returned to his fine country houses that he liked so much, 
 
 ' Ad Att. xi. 20. I read cognitionem instead of notionem, which does 
 not seem to me to have any sense. 
 
CAESAR AND CICERO 259 
 
 and where he had been so happy j he found his books 
 again, he resumed his interrupted studies, he could appre- 
 ciate again those precious things which we enjoy without 
 thinking about them while they are ours, and only begin 
 to appreciate when we have lost them for a moment, namely, 
 security and leisure. He thought that nothing could equal 
 the charm of those first days passed tranquilly at Tusculum 
 after so many storms, and of that return to the quiet 
 pleasures of the mind for which he felt then that he was in 
 reality made. " Know," he wrote to his friend Varro, " that 
 since my return I have been reconciled to my old friends : 
 I mean my books. In truth, if I fled from them, it was not 
 because I was angry with them, but I could not see them 
 without some confusion. It seemed to me that in engaging 
 in such stirring affairs, with doubtful allies, I have not fol- 
 lowed their precepts faithfully enough. They forgive me, 
 they recall me to their company ; they tell me that you have 
 been wiser than I not to leave them. Now that I am re- 
 stored to their favour, I really hope that I shall support 
 more easily the evils that oppress us and those with which 
 we are threatened."^ 
 
 His conduct henceforth was clearly marked out. He 
 owed it to the great party he had served and defended to 
 hold aloof from the new government. He must seek in 
 philosophy and letters a useful employment for his activity, 
 and create an honourable retreat far from public affairs in 
 which he could no longer take part with honour. He well 
 understood this when he said : " Let us preserve at least a 
 partial liberty by knowing how to hide ourselves and keep 
 silence." 2 To*keep silence and hide, was indeed the pro- 
 gramme that suited him best, as it did all those who had 
 submitted after Pharsalia. We shall see how far he was 
 faithful to it. 
 
 1 Adfam. ix. i. ^ Ad Att. xvi. 31. 
 
26o CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 It is very difficult to relinquish politics all at once. The 
 conduct of public affairs and the exercise of power, even 
 when they do not entirely content, the mind, give a second- 
 ary importance to other things, and life appears aimless 
 to him who can no longer employ himself in them. This is 
 what happened to Cicero. He was certainly very sincere 
 when, on leaving Brundusium, he undertook "to hide him- 
 self entirely in literature " ; but he had promised more than 
 he was able to perform. He soon wearied of repose, and 
 the pleasures of study at length seemed a little too quiet ; 
 he listened with more curiosity to outside rumours, and, in 
 order to hear them better, quitted Tusculum and returned 
 to Rome. There he insensibly resumed his old habits ; he 
 returned to the senate ; his house was again open to all who 
 loved and cultivated letters ; he began again to frequent the 
 houses of the friends he had in Caesar's party, and by their 
 means resumed intercourse with Caesar himself. 
 
 They were easily reconciled, notwithstanding all their 
 motives for ill will. The taste for intellectual pleasures 
 which united them was stronger than all political antipathy. 
 The first irritation over, they approached each other with 
 that ease that the habit and experience of society give, for- 
 getting or appearing to forget all the disagreements that 
 had separated them. Nevertheless these relations had be- 
 come more difficult than ever for Cicero. It was not only a 
 protector that he had found in his old fellow-student, it was 
 a master. There was no longer between thtm, as formerly, 
 an agreement or understanding that created reciprocal ob- 
 ligations; there was the victor to whom the laws of war 
 permitted everything, and the vanquished who owed his life 
 to his clemency. The difficulty of the position was greater, 
 
CAESAR AND CICERO 261 
 
 because the more right the conqueror had to be exacting the 
 more public opinion commanded the conquered to be re- 
 served. It may be supposed that, at the time of the Gallic 
 war, Cicero defended Caesar's projects through friendship or 
 conviction ; but since he had shown that he disapproved his 
 cause by boldly expressing his opinions during the civil war, 
 the deference he might show to his wishes was nothing more 
 than a sort of base flattery, and a discreditable way of earn- 
 ing his pardon. Already his sudden return from Pharsalia 
 had been much blamed. "I am not forgiven for living," ^ 
 said he. He was forgiven still less for his familiar relations 
 with Caesar's friends. Good citizens murmured at seeing 
 him visit so assiduously the house of Balbus, go and dine 
 with the voluptuous Eutrapelus in company with Pans^ or 
 Antony, and by the side of the actress Cytheris, take part 
 in the sumptuous feasts that Dolabella gave with the money 
 of the vanquished ; on all sides the malevolent had their 
 eyes open to his weaknesses. He had, then, to satisfy at 
 once all parties, to hold with the conquerors and the con- 
 quered for the sake of his reputation or his safety, to live 
 near the master without being too confident, and without 
 ever offending him, and in these dangerous relations to make 
 what he owed to his honour agree with what was needful 
 for his repose. It was a delicate situation, from which an 
 ordinary man would have had perhaps some trouble to ex- 
 tricate himself, but which was not beyond the dexterity of 
 Cicero. To get out of it he had in his favour one marvellous 
 quality which prevented him from appearing too humble and 
 too base, even when he was constrained to flatter. Madame 
 de S^vign^ has said somewhere: "Wit is a dignity." This 
 saying is true in every sense ; nothing helps one more to pass 
 through difficult times without baseness. When a man pre- 
 serves his wit before an absolute master, when he dares to 
 ^ Adfam. ix. 5. 
 
262 CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 joke and smile in the midst of the silence and terror of 
 others, he shows by this that the greatness of him to whom 
 he speaks does not intimidate him, and that he feels himself 
 sufficiently strong to support it. To remain master of one- 
 self in his presence is still a way of braving him, and it 
 seems to me that an exacting and suspicious despot ought 
 to be almost as displeased with those who dare to be witty 
 before him as with those he may suspect of having courage. 
 There is, then, below that courage of the soul that inspires 
 energetic resolutions, but near it, that courage of the 
 mind which is not to be despised, for it is often the sole 
 courage possible. After the defeat of the men of resolution, 
 the men of wit have their turn, and they still do some 
 service when the others can no longer do anything. As 
 they are crafty and supple, as they can raise their head 
 quickly after necessity has forced them to bend it, they 
 maintain themselves with a certain amount of honour in the 
 ruin of their party. Their raillery, however discreet it may 
 be, is a sort of protestation against the silence imposed on 
 all, and it at least prevents the loss of liberty of speech after 
 having lost the liberty of action. Wit is not then such a 
 trivial thing as people affect to consider it ; it also has its 
 grandeur, and it may be that, after a great disaster, when all 
 is silent, downcast, and discouraged, it alone maintains 
 human dignity, which is in great danger of perishing. 
 
 Such was, very nearly, the part Cicero played at this time, 
 and we must acknowledge that it was not wanting in import- 
 ance. In that great city, submissive and mute, he alone 
 dared to speak. He began to do so early, he was still at 
 Brundusium, not knowing if he should obtain his pardon, 
 when he frightened Atticus by the freedom of his re- 
 marks. Impunity naturally rendered him bolder, and after 
 his return to Rome he took scarcely any other precaution 
 than to make his raillery as agreeable and as witty as pos- 
 
CAESAR AND CICERO 263 
 
 sible. Caesar liked wit even when it was exercised at his 
 own expense. Instead of getting angry at Cicero's jokes, he 
 made a collection of them, and in the midst of the war in 
 Spain, he ordered his correspondents to send them to him. 
 Cicero, who knew this, spoke without constraint. This free- 
 dom, then so rare, drew all eyes upon him. He had never 
 had more society round him. The friends of Caesar fre- 
 quented his society readily to give themselves an air of 
 liberality and tolerance, after the example of their chief. As 
 he was the most illustrious survivor of the republican party 
 after the death of Pompey and Cato, the remaining partisans 
 of the republic crowded around him. People came to 
 see him from all sides, and all parties met in the morn- 
 ings in his vestibule. " I receive at the same time," said 
 he, " the visits of many good citizens who are downcast, and 
 those of our joyful conquerors." ^ 
 
 This attention no doubt had something flattering in it, 
 and nothing must have given him more pleasare than to 
 have regained his importance. Let us remark, however, 
 that in regaining his position as a person of eminence, whose 
 friendship was sought and whose house was frequented, he 
 had already fallen short of the first part of the programme 
 that he had laid down for himself; the share he had, about 
 the same time, in the return of the exiles, soon made him 
 forget the other. He had given up hiding to respond to 
 Caesar's advances. We are going to see how he ceased to 
 keep silence in order to thank him for his clemency. 
 
 Caesar's clemency is admired with good reason, and it 
 deserves the praises awarded to it. For the first time a ray 
 of humanity had been seen to shine in the midst of the 
 pitiless wars of the ancient world. 
 
 No doubt about the extent of his rights had hitherto 
 entered the mind of the conqueror; he believed them to 
 ^ Ad Att, ix, 20. 
 
264 CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 have no limit, and exercised them without scruple. Who, 
 before Caesar, had thought of proclaiming and practising 
 consideration for the vanquished ? He was the first who 
 declared that his vengeance would not outlast his victory, 
 and that he would not strike a disarmed enemy. What 
 adds to the admiration his conduct inspires is that he gave 
 this fine example of mildness and moderation in a time of 
 violence, between the proscriptions of Sulla and those of 
 Octavius ; that he pardoned his enemies at the very moment 
 that they were massacring his soldiers who were prisoners, 
 and burning his sailors alive with their ships. We must not, 
 however, exaggerate, and history should not be a panegyric. 
 Without attempting to diminish Caesar's glory, we may be 
 allowed to ask what motive he had in pardoning the van- 
 quished, and it is right to inquire how and within what 
 limits he exercised his clemency. 
 
 Curio, one of his closest friends, said one day to Cicero, 
 in a private conversation, that Caesar was cruel by nature, 
 and that he had only spared his enemies to preserve the 
 affection of the people j'^ but the sceptic Curio was very 
 much disposed, like Caelius, to look at people always on 
 their bad side : he has certainly calumniated his chief. The 
 truth is that Caesar was clement both by nature and policy: 
 ■bro natura et pro instituto ; ^ the continuator of his Com- 
 mentaries, who knew him well, says so. Now, if the heart 
 does not change, policy often changes with circumstances. 
 When a man is good solely by nature he is good always ; 
 but when the reflection which calculates the good effect 
 clemency will produce, and the advantage which may be 
 drawn from it, is added to the natural instinct that inclines 
 to clemency, it may happen that a man may become less 
 clement as soon as he has less interest to be so. He who 
 becomes gentle and humane, by policy, in order to draw 
 
 1 Ad Att. X. 4. 2 ]^i.ii jif^ic gg. 
 
CAESAR AND CICERO 265 
 
 men towards him, would become cruel, by policy also, if he 
 had need of intimidating them. This happened to Caesar, 
 and when we study his life closely we find that his clemency 
 suffered more than one eclipse. I do not think that he 
 committed any gratuitous cruelties for the sake of com- 
 mitting them, as so many of his contemporaries did ; but 
 neither did he refrain when he found some advantage in 
 them. While he was praetor in Spain he sometimes stormed 
 towns which were willing to surrender, in order to have a 
 pretext for sacking them. In Gaul he never hesitated to 
 terrify his enemies by fearful vengeance ; we see him behead 
 the whole senate of the Veneti, massacre the Usipetes and 
 the Tencteri, sell the forty thousand inhabitants of Genabum 
 for slaves at one time, and cut off the hands of all in 
 Uxellodunum who had taken up arms against him. And 
 did he not keep in prison five whole years that heroic chief 
 of the Arverni, that Vercingetorix who was an adversary so 
 worthy of him, that he might coolly give the order to 
 slaughter him on the day of his triumph? Even at the 
 time of the civil war and when he was fighting his fellow- 
 citizens, he got tired of pardoning. When he saw that his 
 system of clemency did not disarm his enemies, he gave it 
 up, and their obstinacy, which surprised him, at last made 
 him cruel. As the struggle was prolonged it took darker 
 colours on both sides. The war between the republicans 
 exasperated by their defeats and the conqueror furious at 
 their resistance, became merciless. After Thapsus, Caesar 
 set the example of punishments, and his army, inspired by 
 his anger, slaughtered the vanquished before his face. He 
 had proclaimed, when starting on his last expedition into 
 Spain, that his clemency was exhausted, and that all who did 
 not lay down their arms should be put to death. Therefore 
 the battle of Munda was terrible. Dio relates that both 
 armies attacked with silent rage, and that instead of the 
 
266 CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 war-songs that usually resounded, one only heard at intervals 
 the words : " strike and kill." When the fight was over the 
 massacre began. The eldest son of Pompey, who had suc- 
 ceeded in escaping, was tracked in the forest for several 
 days and killed without mercy, like the Vendean chiefs in 
 our wars of the Bocage. 
 
 The most glorious moment of Caesar's clemency was just 
 after the battle of Pharsalia. He had proclaimed in advance 
 when he entered Italy that the proscriptions would not 
 recommence. " I will not imitate Sulla," said he in a cele- 
 brated letter, which no doubt was widely circulated. " Let 
 us introduce a new way of conquering, and seek our safety 
 in clemency and mildness." i At first he did not belie these 
 fair words. After the victory, he ordered the soldiers to 
 spare their fellow-citizens, and on the battle-field itself he 
 gave his hand to Brutus and many others. It is wrong 
 however to think that there was a general amnesty at that 
 moment.^ On the contrary, an edict of Antony, who 
 governed Rome in the absence of Caesar, strictly forbade 
 any Pompeian to return to Italy without having obtained 
 permission. Cicero and Laelius, from whom there was 
 nothing to fear, were alone excepted. Many others returned 
 afterwards, but they were only recalled individually and by 
 special decree. This was a means for Caesar to make the 
 most of his clemency. Usually pardons thus given separ- 
 ately were not given gratuitously, they were almost always 
 bought by the exiles with a part of their property. Besides, 
 they were seldom complete at first ; the exiles were allowed 
 to return to Sicily, then to Italy, before opening to them 
 completely the gates of Rome. These steps cleverly man- 
 aged, by multiplying the number of favours granted by 
 
 1 AdAtt. ix. 7. 
 
 ^ The general amnesty that Suetonius speaks of did not talie place 
 till much later. 
 
CAESAR AND CICERO 267 
 
 Caesar, did not allow public admiration to cool. Each 
 time the chorus of flatterers recommenced their praises, and 
 did not cease to celebrate the generosity of the victor. 
 
 There was, then, after Pharsalia, a certain number of 
 exiles in Greece and in Asia who were waiting impatiently 
 for permission to return home, and who did not all obtain 
 it. Cicero's letters do us the good ofifice of making us 
 acquainted with some of them. They are people of all con- 
 ditions and fortunes, merchants and farmers of the taxes as 
 well as great nobles. By the side of a Marcellus, a Tor- 
 quatus and a Domitius there are entirely unknown persons 
 like Trebianus and Toranius, which shows that Caesar's 
 vengeance did not stop at the heads of the party. We find 
 also among them three writers, and it is worthy of notice 
 that they were perhaps the most hardly treated. One of 
 them, T. Ampius, was a fiery republican who did not show 
 ^o much firmness in exile as one would have expected. He 
 was occupied in writing a history of illustrious men, and it 
 seems that he did not profit much by the good examples he 
 found there. We know the other two, who are not much 
 alike, better : they were the Etruscan Caecina, a merchant 
 and a wit, and the scholar Nigidius Figulus. Nigidius, who 
 was compared with Varro for the extent of his attainments, 
 and who was, like him, at once philosopher, grammarian, 
 astronomer, physicist, rhetorician and lawyer, had particularly 
 struck his contemporaries by the extent of his theological 
 researches. As he was seen to be much occupied with the 
 doctrines of the Chaldeans and the followers of Orpheus, he 
 passed for a great magician. It was believed that he pre- 
 dicted the future, and he was suspected of raising the dead. 
 So many occupations, of such various kinds, did not prevent 
 him taking an interest in the affairs of his country. It was 
 not thought, then, that a scholar was excused from perform- 
 ing the duties of a citizen. He solicited and obtained public 
 
268 CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 offices : he was praetor in difficult times, and was noticed 
 for his energy. When Caesar entered Italy, Nigidius, faith- 
 ful to the maxim of his master Pythagoras, which commands 
 the sage to carry help to the law when it is menaced, 
 hastened to leave his books, and was one of the principal com- 
 batants at Pharsalia. Caecina had appeared at first as firm 
 as Nigidius, and like him was conspicuous for his republican 
 ardour. Not content with taking up arms against Caesar, 
 he had, besides, insulted him in a pamphlet at the beginning 
 of the war : but he was as weak as he was violent, he could 
 not bear exile. This frivolous and worldly man had need 
 of the pleasures of Rome, and was disconsolate at being 
 deprived of them. To obtain his pardon, he formed the 
 idea of writing a new work destined to contradict the old 
 one, and to obliterate its bad effect. He had called it his 
 Querelae, and this title indicates well enough its character. 
 In it he lavished eulogies on Caesar without measure, and 
 yet he was always afraid he had not said enough. " I 
 tremble in all my limbs," said he to Cicero, " when I ask 
 myself if he will be satisfied."^ So much humiliation and 
 baseness succeeded in softening the victor, and while he 
 relentlessly left the energetic Nigidius, who could not flatter, 
 to die in exile, he allowed Caecina to approach Italy, and 
 settle down in Sicily. 
 
 Cicero had become the consoler of all these exiles, and 
 employed his influence in ameliorating their condition. He 
 served them all with the same zeal, although there were 
 some among them of whom he had reason to complain ; 
 but he no longer remembered their offences when he saw 
 their misfortunes. In writing to them he showed a graceful 
 tact in accommodating his language to their situation and 
 feelings, caring little whether he was consistent with himself, 
 provided he could console them and be useful to them. 
 * Ad fam. vii. 7- 
 
CAESAR AND CICERO 269 
 
 He told those who lamented that they were kept away from 
 Rome, that they were wrong in wishing to return, and that 
 it was better simply to hear reports of the misfortunes of the 
 republic than to see them with their eyes; he wrote in the 
 opposite strain to those who supported exile too courage- 
 ously, and would not beg for recall, to the great despair of 
 their families. When he met with a too servile eagerness in 
 anticipating and entreating Caesar's kindness, he did not 
 hesitate to blame it, and with infinite tact recalled the un- 
 fortunate to that self-respect which they had forgotten. If, 
 on the contrary, he saw some one disposed to commit a 
 heroic imprudence and to attempt a useless and dangerous 
 move, he hastened to restrain this burst of idle courage, and 
 preached prudence and resignation. He did not spare his 
 pains during this time. He went to see the friends of the 
 master, or if necessary, he tried to see the master himself, 
 although it was very difficult to approach a man who had 
 the affairs of the whole world on his shoulders. He begged, 
 he promised, he wearied with his supplications and was almost 
 always successful, for Caesar was anxious to draw him more 
 and more into his party by the favours he granted him. 
 The favour once obtained, he wished to be the first to 
 announce it to the exile, who impatiently awaited it; he 
 heartily congratulated him and added to his compliments a 
 few of those counsels of moderation and silence which he 
 readily gave to others, but which he did not always follow 
 himself. 
 
 There was no more important personage among these 
 exiles than the former consul Marcellus ; neither was there 
 any whom Caesar had so much reason to hate. By a sort 
 of cruel bravado, Marcellus had had an inhabitant of Como 
 beaten with rods, in order to show what value he set upon 
 the rights that Caesar had granted to that city. After 
 Pharsalia, he had retired to Mitylene and did not think of 
 
270 CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 returning, when his relatives and Cicero took it into their 
 heads to obtain his pardon. While taking the first steps 
 they met with an unexpected obstacle : they thought they 
 only had to entreat Caesar, and they had to begin by 
 appeasing Marcellus. He was an energetic man whom the 
 ill success of his cause had not dispirited, a veritable philo- 
 sopher, who had reconciled himself to exile, an obstinate 
 republican, who would not return to Rome to see her a 
 slave. Quite a long negotiation was necessary before he 
 would consent to allow them to crave anything for him 
 from the conqueror, and even then he allowed it with a very 
 bad grace. When we read the letters that Cicero wrote to 
 him on this occasion, we greatly admire his skill, but 
 have some difficulty in understanding the motives of his 
 persistence. We ask with surprise why he took more 
 interest in the return of Marcellus than did Marcellus him- 
 self. They had never been very closely connected ; Cicero 
 did not stand upon ceremony in blaming his obstinacy, and 
 we know that those stiff and self-willed characters did not 
 suit him. He must have had then some stronger motive 
 than affection to be so anxious for Marcellus' return to 
 Rome. This motive, which he does not mention, but which 
 we can guess, was the fear he had of public opinion. He 
 well knew that he was reproached with not having done 
 enough for his cause, and at ]times he accused himself of 
 having abandoned it too quickly. When, in the midst of 
 Rome, where he passed his time so gaily at those sumptuous 
 dinners that Hirtius and Dolabella gave him, and to which 
 he went, he said, to enliven his> slavery a little; when he 
 came to think of those brave men who had been killed in 
 Africa and Spain, or who were living in exile in some dull 
 and unknown town in Greece, he was angry with himself for 
 not being with them, and the thought of their sufferings 
 often troubled his pleasures. That is the reason why he 
 
CAESAR AND CICERO 271 
 
 worked with so much ardour for their return. It was of 
 importance to him to diminish the number of those whose 
 miseries formed a disagreeable contrast to the happiness 
 that he enjoyed, or who appeared to condemn his sub- 
 mission by their haughty attitude. Every time that an exile 
 returned to Rome, it seemed to Cicero as though he got rid 
 of some remorse and escaped the reproaches of the ill- 
 natured. Therefore, when he had obtained, contrary to his 
 expectation, the pardon of Marcellus, his joy knew no 
 bounds. It went so far as to make him forget that resolu- 
 tion he had taken to keep silence to which he had been 
 faithful during two years. He spoke in the senate to thank 
 Caesar, and delivered the celebrated speech which remains 
 to us.i 
 
 The reputation of this speech has had very diverse 
 fortunes. It was long unreservedly admired, and, in the 
 last century, the worthy Rollin regarded it as the model and 
 perfection of eloquence; but this enthusiasm has much 
 diminished since we have become less appreciative of the 
 art of praising princes with delicacy, and value free and 
 open speech more highly than the most ingenious flattery. 
 We should certainly sometimes wish for a little more dignity 
 in this speech, and we are especially shocked at the manner 
 in which embarrassing recollections of the civil war are 
 treated in it. He should have said nothing of them, or have 
 spoken out more boldly. Ought he, for example, to hide 
 the motives that the republicans had for taking up arms 
 and reduce the whole struggle to a conflict between two 
 eminent men ? Was it the time, after the defeat of Pompey, 
 
 ^ It is unnecessary to say that I believe in the authenticity of this 
 speech : it has been disputed for reasons that seem to me futile. 
 Further on I shall reply to those drawn from the character of the 
 speech, by showing that it is less base and servile than has been 
 asserted. 
 
CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 to sacrifice him to Caesar, and to assert with so much 
 assurance that he would have used the victory less well ? 
 That we may be able to judge less severely the conces- 
 sions that Cicero thought himself obliged to make to the 
 victorious party, we must recall the circumstances in which 
 this speech was delivered. It was the first time he had 
 spoken in public since Pharsalia. In that senate, purged 
 by Caesar and filled with his creatures, free speech had not 
 yet been heard. The friends and admirers of the master 
 alone spoke, and whatever excess we may find in the 
 praises that Cicero gives him, we may rest assured that all 
 these flatteries must have seemed lukewarm compared with 
 those heard every day. Let us add that, as no one had 
 yet dared to make a trial of Caesar's forbearance, its limits 
 were not exactly known. Now it is natural, that he who does 
 not exactly know where rashness begins has a little dread of 
 becoming rash. When one does not know the bounds of the 
 liberty that is permitted, the fear of overstepping them some- 
 times prevents their being reached at all. Besides, this orator 
 who spoke for an exile was himself one of the vanquished. 
 He knew the whole extent of the^ rights that victory then 
 conferred, and he did not try to hide it. " We have been 
 defeated," he said to Caesar, " you might legitimately put 
 us all to death." ^ At the present time things are quite 
 different. Humanity has lessened these pitiless rights, and 
 the conquered, who knows it, does not give way so com- 
 pletely ; from the moment that he does not run the same 
 risks it is easy for him to have more courage ; but when he 
 found himself before a master who had absolute power over 
 him, when he knew that he only held liberty and life by a 
 favour always revocable, he could not speak with the same 
 boldness, and it would not be just to call the reserve im- 
 posed by such a perilous position, timidity. There is yet 
 
 1 Pro Marc. 4. 
 
CAESAR AND CICERO 273 
 
 one other way, simpler and probably truer than the others, 
 of explaining these rather too exaggerated praises with 
 which Cicero has been reproached, namely, to acknowledge 
 that they were sincere. The greater the rights of the 
 conqueror, the more becoming it was in him to renounce 
 them, and the merit was still greater when they were 
 renounced in favour of a man whom there were legitimate 
 reasons for hating. Accordingly, the excitement was very 
 great among the senators when they saw Caesar pardon his 
 personal enemy, and Cicero shared it. What proves that 
 all these effusions of joy and thankfulness, with which his 
 speech is filled, were not simply oratorical embellishments, 
 is that we find them in a letter which he addressed to 
 Sulpicius, and which was not written for the public. " That 
 day seemed to me so grand," said he, relating that memor- 
 able sitting of the senate, "that I thought I saw the republic 
 rise again." 1 This was going very far, and indeed nothing 
 less resembled the revival of the republic than this arbitrary 
 act of a despot in pardoning men who were only guilty of 
 having served their country. This violent hyperbole is none 
 the less a proof of the deep and sincere emotion that 
 Caesar's clemency caused Cicero. We know how open that 
 sensitive nature was to the impressions of the moment. He 
 usually allows himself to be seized so forcibly by admiration 
 or hatred, that he seldom keeps within bounds in expressing 
 them. Hence came, in the speech for Marcellus, some 
 hyperbolical eulogies and an excess of complimentary phrases 
 which it is easy to account for, although one would rather 
 not have found them there. 
 
 These reservations being made, nothing remains but to 
 admire. Cicero's speech does not contain only flatteries, as 
 is asserted, and those who read it carefully and without pre- 
 judice will find something else. After thanking Caesar for his 
 ' Ad/am. iv. 4. 
 
274 CICE.ro and his FRIENDS 
 
 clemency, he takes the liberty of telling him a few truths and 
 giving him some advice. This second part, which is some- 
 what hidden now under the splendour of the other, is 
 much more curious, although less striking, and must have 
 produced more eifect in its time. Although he revised his 
 work before publishing it, as was usual with him, he must 
 have preserved the movement of improvisation. If he had 
 not at first found those grand periods, the most sonorous 
 and pompous of the Latin tongue, it is at least probable 
 that he has not changed very much the order of the 
 ideas and the coherency of the speech. We feel that he 
 becomes excited and warmed by degrees, and in proportion 
 as he advances he becomes more daring. The success of 
 his eloquence, of which they had been deprived so long, 
 the applause of his friends, the admiration and surprise of 
 the new senators who had not yet heard him, that sort of 
 transport a man feels in speaking when he perceives he is 
 listened to ; in sum, the place itself where he was speaking, 
 those walls of the senate house to which he alluded in his 
 discourse, and which guarded the memory of so many 
 eloquent and free voices, — all this put him in heart again. 
 He forgot the timid precautions of the commencement, and 
 boldness came with success. Was it not attacking absolute 
 power indirectly when he said : " I am grieved to think that 
 the destiny of the republic, which ought to be immortal, 
 depends entirely on the life of one man who must some time 
 die." ^ And what can we think of that other saying, still 
 sharper, almost cruel ? " You have done much to gain the 
 admiration of men ; you have not done enough to deserve 
 their praises." ^ What must Caesar do in order that the future 
 may praise him as much as it admires him ? He must 
 change that which exists : " The republic cannot remain as 
 it is." He does not explain himself, but we guess what he 
 
 1 Pro Marc. 7. = Ibid. 8. 
 
CAESAR AND CICERO 275 
 
 wants. He wants liberty, not that entire liberty that they 
 had enjoyed up to Pharsalia, but a moderate and regulated 
 liberty, compatible with a strong and victorious government, 
 the sole liberty that Rome could support. It is plain that 
 at this moment Cicero did not think it impossible to make a 
 compromise between Caesar and liberty. Could not a man 
 who so ostentatiously renounced one of the least disputed 
 rights of victory be tempted to renounce the others later ? 
 And when he was seen to be so clement and generous 
 towards private individuals, was it forbidden to think that 
 he might one day show the same liberality to his country ? 
 However weak this hope might be, as there was then no 
 other, an honest man and a good citizen would not let it 
 be lost, and it was his duty to encourage Caesar by all 
 possible means to realize it. They were not then to 
 blame in praising him without restraint for what he had 
 done, in order to urge him to do still more, and it seems to 
 me that the praises Cicero heaps on him, when we think of 
 the intention he had in giving them, lose a little of that 
 look of slavishness with which they have been reproached. 
 
 Caesar listened to the compliments with pleasure and to 
 the advice without anger. He was too pleased that Cicero 
 had at last broken silence to think of being angry at what 
 he had said. It was important to him that this statesman, 
 on whom all eyes were fixed, should re-enter public life in 
 some way or other. While that powerful voice persisted in 
 remaining mute it seemed to protest against the new govern- 
 ment. By not even attempting to contradict him, it let it 
 be thought it had not the liberty to do so, and made the 
 slavery appear heavier. He was then so content to hear 
 Cicero's voice again that he let him say what he liked. 
 Cicero quickly perceived it and took advantage of it. From 
 this moment, when he speaks in public, we feel that he is 
 more at his ease. His tone becomes firmer, and he concerns 
 
276 CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 himself less about compliments and eulogies. With the 
 speech for Marcellus, he had tried what liberties he could 
 take. Having once felt his ground, he was more sure of 
 his steps and walked with confidence. 
 
 Such was the position of Cicero during Caesar's dictator- 
 ship ; we see clearly that it was not so humble as has been 
 asserted, and that, in a time of despotism, he was able to 
 render some services to liberty. These services have been 
 generally ill appreciated, and I am not surprised at it. It 
 is with men something as it is with works of art : when we 
 see them at a distance we are only struck with the bold 
 situations and well-drawn attitudes; the details and finer 
 shades escape us. We can well understand those who give 
 themselves up entirely to the conqueror like Curio or Antony, 
 or those who constantly resist him like Labienus and Cato. 
 As to those ingenious and flexible minds who fly from all 
 extremes, who live adroitly between submission and revolt, 
 who turn difficulties rather than force them, who do not 
 refuse to pay with a few flatteries for the right of telling a 
 few truths, we are always tempted to be severe towards 
 them. As we cannot clearly distinguish their attitude at 
 the distance from which we regard them, their smallest 
 subserviencies appear to be cowardice, and they seem to 
 be prostrating themselves when they are only bowing. It is 
 only by drawing near them, that is to say by studying the 
 facts closer, that we succeed in rendering them justice. I 
 think that this minute study is not unfavourable to Cicero, 
 and that he was not mistaken when he said later, speaking 
 of this period of his life, that his slavery had not been with- 
 out some honour : quievi cum aliqua dignitate?- 
 
 ' Philipp. iii. il. 
 
CAESAR AND CICERO 277 
 
 II. 
 
 In giving an account of the relations of Cicero and Caesar 
 after Pharsalia, I have purposely omitted to speak of the 
 courteous contest they had about Cato. It was such a 
 curious incident that it seems to me to be worth the 
 trouble of being studied apart, and in order to understand 
 better the sentiments that each of the two brought into this 
 contest, perhaps it will not be amiss to begin by making the 
 acquaintance of the person who was the subject of the 
 dispute. 
 
 A sufficiently correct idea is generally formed of Cato by 
 us, and those who attack him as well as those who admire 
 him are very nearly agreed upon the principal features of 
 his character. He was not one of those elusive and many- 
 sided natures like Cicero, that it is so difficult to seize. On 
 the contrary, ,no one was ever more outspoken, more 
 uniform, than he, and there is no figure in history whose 
 good and bad qualities are so clearly marked. The only 
 danger for those who study him is to be tempted to ex- 
 aggerate still more this bold relief. With a little intention 
 it is easy to make an obstinate block of this obstinate man, 
 a boor and brute of this frank and sincere man ; that is to 
 say, to draw the caricature and not the portrait of Cato. 
 To avoid falling into this extreme, it will be proper, before 
 speaking of him, to read again a short letter that he 
 addressed to Cicero when proconsul of Cilicia.^ This note 
 is all that remains to us of Cato, and I should be surprised 
 if it did not very much astonish those who have a pre- 
 conceived notion of him. There is neither rudeness nor 
 brutality in it, but on the contrary much refinement and wit. 
 The occasion of the letter was a very difficult one : it was a 
 1 Adfam. xv. 5. 
 
278 CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 question of refusing Cicero a favour that he very much 
 wished to obtain. He had had in his old age the aspiration 
 to become a conqueror, and he asked the senate to vote a 
 thanksgiving to the gods for the success of the campaign he 
 had just made. The senate in general showed deference 
 to this caprice, Cato almost alone resisted j but he did not 
 wish to fall out with Cicero, and the letter he wrote to 
 justify his refusal is a masterpiece of dexterity. He shows 
 him that in opposing his demand, he understands the 
 interests of his glory, better than he does himself If he 
 will not thank the gods for the successes Cicero has 
 obtained, it is because he thinks that Cicero owes them to 
 himself alone. Is it not better to give him all the honour 
 than to attribute it to chance, or the protection of heaven ? 
 This is certainly a very amiable way of refusing, and one 
 that did not leave Cicero an excuse for getting angry, dis- 
 contented though he was. Cato, then, was a man of wit at 
 odd moments, although at first sight we might have some 
 difficulty in supposing so. His character had become 
 supple by the study of Greek literature ; he lived in the 
 midst of an elegant society, and he had unconsciously taken 
 something from it. Thi.s is what that witty letter makes us 
 suspect, and we must remember it, and take care to read it 
 again every time we are tempted to fancy him an ill-bred 
 rustic. 
 
 We must, however, admit that usually he was stiff and 
 stubborn, hard to himself, and severe on others. That was 
 the turn of his humour; he added to it by his self-will. 
 Nature is not alone to blame for those self-willed and 
 absolute characters that we meet with ; a certain pursuit of 
 quaint originality and a little self-complacency, very often 
 make us aid nature and bring it out more vigorously. Cato 
 was led into this defect by the very name he bore. The 
 example of his illustrious grandfather was always before his 
 
CAESAR AND CICERO 279 
 
 eyes, and his single study was to resemble him, without 
 taking into account the difference of times and men. In 
 imitating we exaggerate. There is always a little effort and 
 excess in the virtues we try to reproduce. We take only 
 the most salient points of the model, and neglect the others 
 which tone them down. This happened with Cato, and 
 Cicero justly blames him for imitating only the rough and 
 hard sides of his grandfather. " If you let the austerity of 
 your behaviour take a few tints of his gay and easy manners, 
 your good qualities would be more pleasing." 1 It is certain 
 that there was in the old Cato a dash of piquant animation, 
 of rustic gaiety, of bantering good-nature, that his grandson 
 did not have. He only shared with him his roughness and 
 obstinacy, which he pushed to extremes. 
 
 Of all excesses the most dangerous perhaps is the excess 
 of good ; it is at least that of which it is most difficult to 
 correct oneself, for the culprit applauds himself, and no one 
 dares to blame him. Cato's great defect was that he never 
 knew moderation. By dint of wishing to be firm in his 
 opinion, he became deaf to the advice of his friends and the 
 lessons of experience. The practical conduct of life, that 
 imperious mistress, to speak like Bossuet, had no hold upon 
 him. His energy often went to the length of obstinacy, 
 and his sense of honour was sometimes in fault by being 
 too scrupulous. This extreme delicacy prevented him 
 succeeding when he canvassed for public offices. The 
 people were very exacting towards those who asked for 
 their votes. During the rest of the year they allowed them- 
 selves to be driven and ill-used, but on election day they 
 knew they were masters and took pleasure in showing it. 
 They could only be gained by flattering all their caprices. 
 Cicero often laughed at those unfortunate and deferential 
 candidates (natio officiosissima candidatorum), who go in the 
 ^ Pro Muraen. 31. 
 
28o CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 morning knocking at every door, who pass their time in 
 paying visits and compliments, who make it a duty to 
 accompany the generals when they enter or leave Rome, 
 who form the retinue of all the influential orators, and who 
 are forced to have infinite consideration and respect for 
 everybody. Among the common people, upon whom after 
 all the election depended, the more honest wished to be 
 flattered, the rest required to be bought. Cato was not the 
 man to do either the one or the other. He would neither 
 flatter nor lie ; still less would he consent to pay. When 
 he was pressed to offer those repasts and those presents 
 that for so long candidates had not dared to refuse, he 
 answered bluntly : " Are you bargaining for pleasures with 
 debauched young men, or asking the government of the 
 world of the Roman people?" And he did not cease 
 repeating this maxim, " that it is only a man's merits which 
 must solicit." ^ A hard saying ! said Cicero, and one they 
 were not accustomed to hear at a time when all offices 
 were for sale. It displeased the people, who profited by 
 this venality, and Cato, who persisted in only soliciting on 
 his merits, was almost always vanquished by those who 
 solicited with their money. 
 
 Characters of this sort, honest and outspoken, are met 
 with, in different degrees, in private as well as in public 
 life, and for this reason they belong to the domain of 
 comedy as well as to that of history. If I were not afraid 
 of failing in respect towards the gravity of the personage I 
 am studying, I should say that this haughty response that I 
 have just quoted, makes me think involuntarily of one of 
 the finest creations of our theatre. It is a Cato that 
 Molifere wished to paint in the Misanthrope. We are here 
 only concerned with the fortune of a private individual, and 
 not with the government of the world, we have only to do 
 ■■ Pro Muraen. 35. 
 
CAESAR AND CICERO 
 
 with a lawsuit ; but in his position, the Cato of the Comedy 
 speaks just hke the other. He will not submit to customs 
 that he does not approve of. Even at the risk of losing his 
 case he will not visit the judges, and when people say to 
 him : " And who do you then intend to solicit for you ?" he 
 answers as haughtily as Cato : " Who do I intend ? Reason, 
 my just cause, and equity." Whatever we may feel, these 
 personages always inspire a great respect. We have not the 
 heart to blame them, but, nevertheless, we must have the 
 courage to do so. Honesty, honour, liberty, all noble causes 
 in fine, cannot well be defended with this exaggerated and 
 strait-laced rigour. They have disadvantages enough by 
 themselves in their struggle with corruption and licence, 
 without making them more unpleasing still by a useless 
 stiffness and severity. To multiply scruples is to disarm 
 virtue. It is quite enough that she is forced to be grave ; 
 why wish to make her repulsive ? Without sacrificing any- 
 thing of principle, there are points on which she ought to 
 give way to men in order to rule them. What proves that 
 those men, who boast of never giving way, are wrong is that 
 they are not as inflexible as they suppose, and that, in spite 
 of their resistance, they always end by making some con- 
 cessions. That austere, that stern Alceste, is a member of 
 society after all, and of the best. He lives at court, and 
 we can see very well what he is. I do not say only by his 
 manners and appearance, although I imagine the man with 
 the green ribbons dressed with taste and elegance, but by 
 those turns of phrase he employs, by those polite evasions 
 which are also lies, and which he will not endure in Philinte. 
 Before breaking out against the nobleman of the sonnet he 
 uses adroit formulas where we only catch a glimpse of the 
 truth : 
 
 " Do you find anything amiss in my sonnet ? " 
 
 " I do not say that." 
 
282 CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 What is this " I do not say that" which he repeats so often, 
 but a blameworthy compliance and weakness, if we judge it 
 with the rigour of the misanthrope? Rousseau severely 
 reproaches Alceste for it, and I do not think that Alceste, 
 if he remains faithful to his principles, can find any reply to 
 Rousseau ; it would not be difficult either to point out con- 
 tradictions of the same kind in Cato. This stern enemy of 
 intrigue, who at first will do nothing for the success of his 
 candidature, ends by canvassing : he went to the Campus 
 Martius like everybody else, to shake hands with the citizens 
 and ask for their votes. " What ! " says Cicero to him ironi- 
 cally, whom these inconsistencies put into good humour, " is 
 it your business to come and ask for my vote ? Is it not 
 rather I who ought to thank a man of your merit who wishes 
 to brave fatigue and dangers for me ? " ^ This stern enemy 
 of lying did more : he had one of those slaves called nomen- 
 datores who knew the name and profession of every citizen 
 of Rome, and he used him like the rest,, to make the poor 
 electors believe that he knew them. " Is not this cheating 
 and deceiving the public ? " said Cicero, and he was not 
 wrong. The saddest thing is that these concessions, that 
 compromise the dignity and unity of a character, are of no 
 use : they are generally made with a bad grace, and too 
 late ; they do not efface the remembrance of past rudeness, 
 and gain nobody. Notwithstanding his tardy soUcitations 
 and the aid of his nomenclafor, Cato did not attain the 
 consulship, and Cicero severely blames the awkwardness 
 that made him fail. No doubt he could do without being 
 consul ; but the republic had need that he should be consul, 
 and in the eyes of many good citizens, to favour by refine- 
 ments of scrupulosity and exaggerations of honour the 
 triumph of the worst men was almost to abandon and 
 betray it. 
 
 ' Fro Mur. 36. 
 
CAESAR AND CICERO 283 
 
 It is easy to understand these excesses and exaggerations 
 in a man who intends to fly the approach of humankind, like 
 Alceste ; but they are unpardonable in one who wishes to 
 live with men, and still more so in one who aspires to govern 
 them. The government of men is a nice and difficult matter 
 which requires a man not to begin by repelling those whom 
 he is desirous of leading. Certainly he ought to intend to 
 make them better, but it is necessary to begin by taking 
 them as they are. The first law of politics is to aim only at 
 the possible. Cato often overlooked this law. He could 
 not condescend to those attentions without which one can- 
 not govern the people ; he had not sufficient flexibility of 
 character nor that turn for honourable intrigue which make 
 a man succeed in the 'things he undertakes; he wanted 
 some of that pliancy that brings opposing pretensions 
 together, calms jealous rivalries, and groups people divided 
 by humours, opinions and interests around one man. He 
 could only be a striking protest against the manners of his 
 time ; he was not the head of a party. Let us venture to 
 say, notwithstanding the respect we feel for him, that his 
 spirit was obstinate because his mind was narrow. He did 
 not at first distinguish the points on which a man should 
 give way and those that ought to be defended to the last. 
 A disciple of the Stoics, who said that all faults are equal, 
 that is, according to Cicero's joke, that it is as wrong to kill 
 a fowl needlessly as to strangle one's father, he had applied 
 this hard and strange theory to politics. His mind being 
 restricted to the merest legality, he defended the smallest 
 things with tiresome obstinacy. His admiration of the 
 past knew no discrimination. He imitated the ancient 
 costumes as he followed the old maxims, and he affected 
 not to wear a tunic under his toga because Camillus did not 
 wear one. His want of breadth of mind, his narrow and 
 obstinate zeal were more than once hurtful to the republic. 
 
284 CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 Plutarch reproaches him with having thrown Pompey into 
 Caesar's arms by refusing some unimportant gratifications 
 of his vanity. Cicero blames him for having dissatisfied 
 the knights whom he had had so much trouble to conciliate 
 with the senate. No doubt the knights made unreasonable 
 demands, but he should have conceded everything rather 
 than let them give Caesar the support of their immense 
 wealth. It was on this occasion that Cicero said of him : 
 " He thinks he is in the republic of Plato and not in the 
 mud of Romulus,"! and this saying is still that which best 
 characterizes that clumsy policy that, by asking too much of 
 men, ends by getting nothing. 
 
 Cato's natural character was that of opposition. He did 
 not understand how to discipline and lead a party, but he 
 was admirable when it was a question of making head against 
 an adversary. To conquer him, he employed a tactic in 
 which he often succeeded : when he saw that a decision 
 that seemed to him fatal, was about to be taken, and that 
 it was necessary at any price to prevent the people voting, 
 he began to speak and did not leave off. Plutarch says 
 that he could speak for a whole day without fatigue. No- 
 thing deterred him, neither murmurs, cries, nor threats. 
 Sometimes a lictor would pull him down from the rostrum, 
 but as soon as he was free he went up again. One day the 
 tribune Trebonius got so much out of patience with this 
 resistance that he had him led off to prison : Cato, without 
 being disconcerted, continued his speech while going along, 
 and the crowd followed him to listen. It is to be remarked 
 that he was never really unpopular : the common people, 
 who love courage, were at last mastered by this steady 
 coolness and this unconquerable energy. It sometimes 
 happened that they declared themselves in his favour, 
 contrary to their interests and preferences, and Caesar, 
 1 Ad Att. ii. I. 
 
CAESAR AND CICERO 285 
 
 all-powerful with the populace, dreaded nevertheless the 
 freaks of Cato. 
 
 It is none the less true, as I have already said, that Cato 
 could not be the head of a party, and what is more deplor- 
 able is, that the party for which he fought had no head. It 
 was an assemblage of men of capacity and of dignified person- 
 ages, none of whom had the necessary qualities to take the 
 lead of the rest. Not to mention Pompey, who was only a 
 doubtful and distrusted ally,amongthe others, Scipio repelled 
 every one by his haughtiness and cruelty ; Appius Claudius 
 was only a credulous augur who believed in the sacred 
 chickens ; Marcellus was wanting in pliability and urbanity, 
 and was himself aware that scarcely anybody liked him ; 
 Servius Sulpicius had all the weaknesses of a punctilious 
 lawyer ; and lastly, Cicero and Cato erred in opposite direc- 
 tions, and it would have been necessary to unite them both, 
 or modify them one by the other in order to have a complete 
 politician. There were, therefore, only brilliant personalities 
 and no head in the republican party before Pharsalia, and 
 we may even say that, as this jealous selfishness and these 
 rival vanities were ill blended, there was scarcely a party. 
 
 The civil war, which was a stumbling-block for so many 
 others, which laid bare so many littlenesses and so much 
 cowardice, revealed, on the other hand, all the goodness and 
 all the greatness of Cato. A sort of crisis then took place 
 in his character. As in certain maladies the approach of 
 the last moments gives more elevation and lucidity to the 
 mind, so, it seems, that at the threat of that great catastrophe 
 which was about to engulf the free institutions of Rome, 
 Cato's honest soul was yet further purified, and that his 
 intelligence took a juster view of the situation from the 
 feeling of the public dangers. While fear makes others go 
 to extremes, he restrains the usual violence of his conduct, 
 and, while thinking of the dangers the republic is running. 
 
286 CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 he becomes all at once discreet and moderate. He who was 
 always ready to attempt useless resistance, advises giving 
 way to Caesar \ he wishes them to grant all his demands ; 
 he resigns himself to all concessions in order to avoid civil 
 war. When it breaks out he submits to it with sorrow, and 
 tries by all means to diminish its horrors. Every time he 
 is consulted he is on the side of moderation and mildness. 
 In the midst of those young men, the heroes of the polished 
 society of Rome, among those lettered and elegant wits, it 
 is the rugged Cato who defends the cause of humanity. He 
 compelled the decision, in spite of the outbursts of the 
 fiery Pompeians, that no town shall be sacked, no citizen 
 be killed oifthe field of battle. It seems that the approach 
 of the calamities he foresaw, softened that energetic heart. 
 On the evening of the battle of Dyrrhachium, while every 
 one was rejoicing in Pompey's camp, Cato alone, seeing the 
 corpses of so many Romans lying on the ground, wept : 
 noble tears, worthy of being compared with those that Scipio 
 shed over the ruins of Carthage, the memory of which antiquity 
 so often recalled ! In the camp at Pharsalia, he severely 
 blamed those who spoke only of massacre and proscription 
 and divided among themselves in advance the houses and 
 lands of the conquered. It is true that after the defeat, 
 when the greater number of those wild schemers were at 
 Caesar's knees, Cato went everywhere to stir him up enemies 
 and to revive the civil wars in all the ends of the earth. Just 
 as he had wished them to yield before the battle, so was 
 he determined not to submit when there was no more hope 
 of freedom. We know his heroic resistance in Africa, not 
 only against Caesar, but against the furious men of the re- 
 publican party, who were always ready to commit some excess. 
 We know how he would not accept the pardon of the 
 victor after Thapsus, when he saw that all was lost, and killed 
 himself at Utica. 
 
CAESAR AND CICERO 287 
 
 His death made an immense impression in all the Roman 
 world. It put to the blush those who were beginning to 
 accustom themselves to slavery; it gave a sort of new impulse 
 to the discouraged republicans, and revived opposition. 
 During his life-time, Cato had not always rendered good 
 service to his party ; he was very useful to it after his death. 
 The proscribed cause had henceforth its ideal and its martyr. 
 Its remaining partisans united and sheltered themselves 
 under that great name. At Rome especially, in that great, 
 unquiet, restless city, where so many men bowed the head 
 without submitting, his glorification became the ordinary 
 theme of the discontented. " The battle raged round the 
 body of Cato," says M. Mommsen, " as at Troy it had raged 
 around that of Patroclus." Fabius Gallus, Brutus, Cicero, 
 and many others no doubt whom we do not know, wrote 
 his eulogy. Cicero began his at the request of Brutus. At 
 first he was repelled by the difficulty of the subject : " This 
 is a work for Archimedes," said hej^ but as he advanced, 
 he took a liking to his work and finished it with a sort of 
 enthusiasm. This book has not come down to us : we only 
 know that Cicero made a complete and unreserved apology 
 for Cato : " he raises him to the skies," ^ says Tacitus. 
 They had, however, disagreed more than once, and he 
 speaks of him without much consideration in many passages 
 of his correspondence ; but, as often happens, death recon- 
 ciled everything. Besides, Cicero, who reproached himself 
 with not having done enough for his party, was happy to 
 find an opportunity of paying his debt. His book, that the 
 name of the author and that of the hero recommended at 
 once, had so great a success that Caesar was uneasy and 
 discontented about it. He took care, however, not to show 
 his ill humour; on the contrary, he hastened to write a 
 flattering letter to Cicero to congratulate him on the talent 
 
 1 Ad Att. xii. 4. ^ Ann. iv. 34. 
 
CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 he had displayed in his work. "In reading it," he told him, 
 " I feel that I become more eloquent." ^ Instead of em- 
 ploying any rigorous measure, as was to be feared, he thought 
 that the pen alone, according to the expression of Tacitus, 
 ought to avenge the attacks that the pen had made. By 
 his order, his lieutenant and friend Hirtius addressed a long 
 letter to Cicero, which was published, and in which he 
 controverted his book. Later, as this answer was not 
 thought sufficient, Caesar himself entered the lists, and, in 
 the midst of the anxieties of the war in Spain, he composed 
 the Anti-Cato. 
 
 This moderation of Caesar has been justly praised : it is 
 not common with men who possess unlimited authority, and 
 the Romans justly said, that it is seldom a man is contented 
 to write when he can proscribe. The fact that he detested 
 Cato adds to the merit of his generous conduct. He always 
 speaks of him with bitterness in his Commentaries, and 
 although he was accustomed to do justice to his enemies, 
 he never misses an opportunity of decrying him. Has he 
 not dared to assert that in taking up arms against him, Cato 
 gave way to personal rancour and to the desire of revenging 
 his electoral defeats,^ when he well knew that no one had 
 more generously forgotten himself in order to think only of 
 his country ! This was because there was more than political 
 disagreement between them, there was antipathy of character. 
 The defects of Cato must have been particularly disagreeable 
 to Caesar, and his virtues were those that Caesar not only 
 did not seek to acquire, but which he could not even under- 
 stand. How could he have any feeling for his strict respect 
 for law, for his almost servile attachment to old customs? 
 he who found a lively pleasure in laughing at ancient usages. 
 How could a prodigal, who had formed the habit of squander- 
 ing the money of the state and his own without reckoning, 
 1 Ad Alt. xiii. 46. 2 Q^es. Bell. civ. i. 4. 
 
CAESAR AND CICERO 289 
 
 how could he do justice to those rigorous scruples that Cato 
 had in the handling of the public funds, to the attention he 
 gave to his private affairs, and to that ambition, so strange 
 for that time, of not having more debts than assets ? These 
 were, I repeat, qualities that Caesar could not comprehend. 
 He was, then, sincere and convinced when he attacked them. 
 A man of wit and pleasure, indifferent to principles, sceptical 
 in opinion, accustomed to live in a frivolous and polished 
 society, Cato could scarcely appear to him anything else than 
 fanatical and brutal. As there was nothing that he put 
 above refinement and politeness of manners, an elegant 
 vice suited him better than a savage virtue. Cato, on 
 the contrary, although he was not a stranger to literary 
 culture and the spirit of society, had none the less remained 
 at bottom an old-fashioned Roman. Notwithstanding their 
 power, society and letters could not entirely overcome 
 that bluntness, or if you will, that brutality of manner that 
 he owed to his constitution and his race, and of which 
 we find something even in his finest actions. To cite 
 only one example ; Plutarch, in the admirable narrative 
 that he has given of his last moments, relates that, when 
 a slave refused, through affection for Cato, to give him his 
 sword, he knocked him down with a furious blow by which 
 his hand was covered with blood. To the eyes of a fastidious 
 man like Caesar, this blow revealed a vulgar nature, and I 
 am afraid prevented him understanding the grandeur of this 
 death. The same contrast, or rather the same antipathy, is 
 found in all their private conduct. While Caesar's maxim was 
 to pardon everything in his friends, and he therefore pushed 
 complacency so far as to shut his eyes to their treasons, 
 Cato was too exacting and particular with regard to his. At 
 Cyprus he did not hesitate to fall out with Munatius, his 
 life-long companion, by showing an offensive distrust of him. 
 He was, no doubt, in his household, a model of honour and 
 
 u 
 
290 CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 fidelity; yet he did not always maintain that respect and 
 regard for his wife that she deserved. We know how he 
 gave her up without ceremony to Hortensius, who had asked 
 him for her, to take her again without- scruple after Horten- 
 sius' death. How different was Caesar's conduct with regard 
 to his, although he had reason to complain of her ! A man 
 had been surprised at night in his house, the affair came 
 before the courts, he might have avenged the outrage, 
 but he preferred rather to forget it. Called as a witness 
 before the judges, he declared he knew nothing about it, 
 thus saving his rival in order to preserve his wife's reputa- 
 tion. He only divorced her later, when the report of the 
 intrigue had blown over. This was acting like a well-bred 
 man of the world. Here again, between Cato and him, it 
 is the least scrupulous and in the main the least honourable 
 of the two, the fickle and libertine husband, who, by reason of 
 a certain natural delicacy, appears in a more advantageous 
 light. 
 
 This contrast in conduct, this opposition of character, 
 seem to me to explain the way in which Caesar writes of 
 Cato in his book, even better than all their political dis- 
 agreements. The fragments of it that survive and the 
 testimony of Plutarch, show that he attacked him with 
 extreme violence, and that he tried to make him at once 
 ridiculous and odious. But it was useless, it was lost labour. 
 People continued, notwithstanding his efforts, to read and 
 admire Cicero's book. Not only did Cato's reputation 
 survive Caesar's insults, it increased still more under the 
 empire. In Nero's time, when despotism was heaviest, 
 Thrasea wrote his history again, Seneca quotes him on every 
 page of his books, and to the end he was the pride and 
 model of honest men who preserved some feeling of honour 
 and dignity in the general abasement of character. They 
 studied his death even more than his life, for they needed 
 
CAESAR AND CICERO 291 
 
 then, above all, to learn how to die, and when this sad 
 necessity presented itself, it was his example they set before 
 their eyes, and his name that was in their mouths. To have 
 sustained and consoled so many noble hearts in these cruel 
 trials is assuredly a great glory, and I think that Cato would 
 not have desired any other. 
 
 III. 
 
 The conclusion to be drawn from Caesar's conduct after 
 Pharsalia, and from his relations with Cicero, is, that he 
 wished at that time to draw rigarer to the republican party. 
 It was difficult for him to act otherwise. As long as it was 
 a question of overturning the republic, he had accepted the 
 support of everybody, and the worst men had come to him 
 by preference. " When a man was eaten up with debts and 
 in want of everything," said Cicero, " and if, besides, he was 
 shown to be a scoundrel capable of daring anything, Caesar 
 made him his friend ; " ^ but all these unprincipled and 
 unscrupulous men, excellent for upsetting an established 
 power, were worth nothing in setting up a new one. It was 
 impossible that Caesar's government should inspire any 
 confidence as long as some honourable persons, whom men 
 were accustomed to respect, were not seen with the master 
 and alongside these adventurers, whom they had learnt 
 to fear. Now, honourable men were chiefly found among 
 the vanquished. We must add that it was not Caesar's 
 idea that one party alone should profit by his victory. 
 He had no ambition to work, like Marius or Sulla, for 
 the triumph of a faction : he wished to found a new 
 government, and he invited men of different opinions to 
 aid him in the enterprise. It has been asserted that he 
 sought to reconcile parties, and great compliments have 
 been paid him for it. The praise is not altogether just : 
 ' Philipp. ii. 32. 
 
292 CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 he did not reconcile them, he annihilated them. In the 
 monarchical system, that he wished to establish,^ the old 
 parties of the republic had no place. He had cleverly used 
 the dissensions of the people and the senate to dominate 
 both ; the first result of his victory was to put them both 
 aside, and we may say that after Pharsalia, there was only 
 Caesar on one side, and the vanquished on the other. This 
 explains how it was that, once victorious, he made use 
 indifferently of the partisans of the senate and those of the 
 democrats. This equality which he established between them 
 was natural, since they had all become, equally and without 
 distinction, his subjects. Only he well knew that in accept- 
 ing the services of the old republicans he should not have 
 instruments always tractable, and that he would be obliged 
 to allow them a certain independence of action and speech, 
 to preserve, at least outwardly, some appearance of a re- 
 public ; but that in itself did not give him much uneasiness. 
 He had not that invincible repugnance for liberty that princes 
 have who are born to an absolute throne, and who only 
 know its name to dread and detest it. He had lived with 
 it for twenty-three years, he had become accustomed to it, 
 he knew its importance. Therefore he did not seek to 
 destroy it entirely. He did not silence, as he might have 
 done, the eloquent voices that regretted the past ; he did not 
 even impose silence on that harassing opposition that tried 
 
 ' It is not easy to say what Caesar's projects were, as his work was 
 interrupted by his death. Some insist that he only desired a sort of 
 dictatorship for life; the greater number suppose that he thought of 
 permanently establishing monarchical rule. The question is too grave to 
 be entered upon incidentally, and settled in a few words. I will simply 
 say that perhaps he only thought at first of the dictatorship ; but in pro- 
 portion as he became more powerful, the idea of founding a monarchy 
 seemed to take more consistency in his mind. Yet it may be inferred 
 from a passage in Plutarch {Brut. 7), that he was not decided on the 
 question of an hereditary succession when he died. 
 
CAESAR AND CICERO 293 
 
 to respond to his victories by jeers. He allowed some acts 
 of his administration to be criticized, and permitted men to 
 give him advice. This great mind well knew that a country 
 becomes enervated when the citizens are rendered indiffer- 
 ent to public affairs, and lose the taste for attending to them. 
 He did not think that anything solid could be established 
 on passive and silent obedience, and in the government that 
 he founded he wished to preserve something of public life. 
 Cicero tells us this in a curious passage of his correspond- 
 ence: "We enjoy here a profound calm," he writes to one 
 of his friends ; " I should rather prefer, however, a little 
 honest and salutary agitation ; " and he adds : " I see that 
 Caesar is of my opinion." ^ 
 
 All these reasons decided him to take one step further on 
 that path of generosity and clemency on which he had 
 entered after Pharsalia. He had pardoned the greater 
 number of those who had borne arms against him ; he in- 
 vited some of them to share his power. At the very time that 
 he was recalling the greater part of the exiles, he appointed 
 Cassius his lieutenant ; he gave Brutus the government of 
 Cisalpine Gaul, and Sulpicius that of Greece. We shall speak 
 further on of the first two; it is important, the better to 
 appreciate Caesar's policy, to rapidly make known the third, 
 and to inquire how he had become worthy of the favours of 
 the conqueror, and in what manner he profited by them. 
 
 Servius Sulpicius belonged to an important Roman family, 
 and was the most celebrated lawyer of his time. Cicero 
 gives him this great praise, namely, that he was the first to 
 bring philosophy into the law, that is to say, that he bound 
 together all those minute rules and precise formulas of 
 which this science is composed, by^eneral principles and 
 comprehensive views.^ Accordingly he does not hesitate 
 to place him much above his predecessors, and more especi- 
 1 Adfam. xii. 17. ''■Brut. 51. 
 
294 CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 ally, over that great family of the Scaevolas, in which as it 
 seemed Roman jurisprudence had been up to that time 
 incarnate. There was, however, a difference between them 
 and Sulpicius, which it is important to notice : the Scaevolas 
 had given to Rome, lawyers, augurs, pontifs, that is to say, 
 they excelled in the arts that are friendly to tranquillity and 
 peace ; but they were also very active citizens, resolute 
 politicians, valiant soldiers who courageously defended their 
 country against conspirators and against the foreigner. 
 They showed themselves, in their busy life, competent for 
 all affairs and equal to all situations. Scaevola the augur, 
 when Cicero knew him, was still, notwithstanding his age, 
 a vigorous old man, who rose at daybreak to meet his 
 country clients. He was the first to arrive at the Curia, 
 and he had always some book with him, that he read so as 
 not to remain idle while waiting for his colleagues ; but 
 the day that Saturninus threatened the public tranquillity, 
 this learned man who loved study so much, this infirm old 
 man who supported himself with difficulty, and could only 
 use one arm, seized a javelin with that arm, and marched 
 at the head of the people to the assault of the Capitol. ^ 
 Scaevola the pontif was not only an able lawyer, he was 
 also an upright administrator whose memory Asia never 
 forgot. When the farmers of the taxes attacked his quaestor 
 Rutilius, guilty of having wished to prevent them ruining 
 the province, he defended him with an admirable eloquence 
 and vigour that no threat could shake. He refused to leave 
 Rome at the time of the first proscriptions, and abandon 
 his clients and their business, although he knew the fate 
 that was awaiting him. Wounded at the funeral of Marius, 
 he was dispatched a few days later near the temple of 
 Vesta.^ However, such men were not exceptional at 
 Rome. In the best times of the republic, the complete 
 ^ Pro Rabir. 7. "- Pro Rose. Am. 12. 
 
CAESAR AND CICERO 295 
 
 citizen had to be at once agriculturist, soldier, administrator, 
 financier, advocate, and even jurist. There were no speci- 
 alists then, arid we should be forced to make now-a-days 
 four or five different persons out of one ancient Roman ; but 
 in the period of which we are now speaking, these diverse 
 aptitudes that were then required in a single man were 
 separated : each man gave himself to a special science, and 
 we can begin to divide men of study, from men of action. It 
 is difficult to say whether the reason of this was that men had 
 lost the energy of their character ; or perhaps we should think 
 that since the masterpieces of Greece had been made known, 
 and each science had become more complicated, one man 
 could not any longer bear the burden of all united ? How- 
 ever this may be, if Sulpicius was above the Scaevolas as a 
 lawyer, he was far from having their firmness as a citizen. 
 Praetor or consul, he was never anything more than a man 
 of learning and chamber practice. In circumstances that 
 require resolution, every time it was necessary to decide and 
 to act, he was ill at ease. We feel that this honest and gentle 
 soul was not made to be the first magistrate of a republic 
 in a period of revolution. His fondness for always playing 
 the part of conciliator and arbitrator in that time of violence 
 ended by exciting laughter. Cicero himself, although he 
 was his friend, quizzes him a little, when he shows us this 
 great peacemaker starting off with his little secretary, after 
 having looked over all his lawyers' rules, to intervene be- 
 tween the parties at the time these parties only desired to 
 destroy one another. 
 
 Caesar had always thought that Sulpicius was not of a 
 character to oppose him vigorously, and had early worked 
 to attach him to himself. He began by making an ally in 
 his house, and a powerful ally. It was a matter of common 
 talk at Rome, that the worthy Sulpicius allowed himself to 
 be led by his wife Postumia ; Cicero, who likes to repeat 
 
296 CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 scandals, several times tells us this. Now, Postumia's 
 reputation was not spotless, and Suetonius places her name 
 on the list of those women who were loved by Caesar. 
 She is one of a very numerous company ; but this fickle 
 man, who passed so quickly from one mistress to another, 
 had this singular privilege, that all the women whom he 
 abandoned, remained none the less his devoted friends. 
 They forgave his infidelities, they continued to take an 
 interest in all his successes, they put those immense re- 
 sources of ingenuity and persistency which belong only to 
 a woman who is in love, at the service of his policy. It 
 was no doubt Postumia who decided Sulpicius to work for 
 Caesar during the whole time that he was consul, and to 
 oppose the vehemence of his colleague Marcellus who wished 
 another governor of Gaul to be appointed. However, not- 
 withstanding all his weaknesses, Sulpicius was none the less 
 a sincere republican, and when the war had broken out, he 
 declared against Caesar, and left Italy. After the defeat, 
 he submitted like the rest, and he had resumed his usual 
 occupations, when Caesar sought him out in his retreat in 
 order to appoint him governor of Greece. It was certainly 
 impossible to find a government that suited him better. A 
 residence in Athens, at all times agreeable to the rich 
 Romans, must have been especially so at this time when 
 that city was the asylum of so many illustrious exiles. 
 Sulpicius could at the same time have the pleasure of hear- 
 ing the most celebrated rhetoricians and philosophers of 
 the world, and could talk of Rome and the republic with 
 eminent persons like Marcellus and Torquatus, and thus 
 satisfy all his tastes at once. Nothing could have been 
 more pleasing, we should have thought, to this scholar and 
 man of letters, whom chance had made a statesman, than the 
 exercise of extensive power, without danger, combined with 
 the most refined intellectual pleasures in one of the grandest 
 
CAESAR AND CICERO 297 
 
 and most beautiful countries in the world. We should, 
 therefore, have thought that Caesar had done the most 
 agreeable thing for him, in sending him on duty to that 
 city where the Romans usually went for pleasure. Yet it 
 does not seem that Sulpicius appreciated these advantages. 
 He had scarcely arrived in Greece, when he was discontented 
 at having gone, and longed to depart. Evidently it was 
 not the country that displeased him, he would not have 
 thought himself better off anywhere else ; but he regretted 
 the republic. After having so timidly defended it, he could 
 not console himself for its fall, and blamed himself for 
 serving him who had overturned it. These feelings are 
 clearly expressed in a letter that he wrote to Cicero from 
 Greece. " Fortune," he tells him, " has taken from us our 
 most precious possessions ; we have lost our honour, our 
 dignity, and our country. ... In the times in which we 
 live, those are most happy who are dead." ^ 
 
 When a timid and moderate man like Sulpicius dared 
 speak thus, what must others not have said and thought ! 
 We can guess this when we see how Cicero writes to the 
 greater number of them. Although he is addressing officials 
 of the new government, he does not take the trouble to 
 hide his opinions ; he freely expresses his regrets, because 
 he well knows they are shared by those to whom he is 
 writing. He speaks to Servilius Isauricus, the proconsul of 
 Asia, as to a man whom the absolute power of one does 
 not satisfy, and who wishes some restraints to be put on it.^ 
 He tells Cornificius, the governor of Africa, that affairs are 
 going ill at Rome, and that many things happen there 
 which would pain him.^ " I know what you think of the 
 lot of honest people, and of the misfortunes of the republic," 
 he writes to Furfanius, the proconsul of Sicily, in recom- 
 mending an exile to him.* These persons, however, had 
 
 1 Ad /am. iv. 5. ^ m^^ xiii. 68. ^ Ibid. xii. 18. * Ibid. vi. 9. 
 
298 CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 accepted important offices from Caesar : they shared his 
 power, they passed for his friends ; but all the favours they 
 had received from him had not thoroughly attached them 
 to his cause. They made their reservations while serving 
 him, and only half gave themselves up to him. Whence 
 could this opposition come, that the new government met 
 with among men who had at first agreed to take a share in 
 it ? It proceeded from different motives which it is easy 
 to point out. The first, perhaps the most important, was 
 that this government, even while loading them with honours, 
 could not give them what the old republic would have 
 given them. With the estabUshment of the monarchy an 
 important change in all public employments was accom- 
 plished : the magistrates became subordinate officials. 
 Formerly, those elected by the popular vote had the right 
 to act as they pleased within the sphere of their functions. 
 A fertile power of initiative inspired every rank of this 
 hierarchy of republican dignitaries. From the aedile to the 
 consul all were supreme within their own limits. They 
 could not be so under an absolute government. Instead of 
 governing on their own account, they were only the 
 channels, so to say, by which the will of a single man 
 acted to the ends of the earth. Certainly public security 
 gained much by the cessation of those conflicts of au- 
 thorities, which had continually troubled it, and it was a 
 great advantage for the provinces that absolute power had 
 been taken away from their greedy governors. Neverthe- 
 less, if the governed profited by these reforms, it was natural 
 that the governors should be discontented with them. From 
 the moment that they were only entrusted with the execu- 
 tion of the orders of another man the importance of their 
 functions diminished, and this sovereign and absolute 
 authority whose weight they always felt, finally vexed even 
 the most submissive. If ambitious men complained of the 
 
CAESAR AND CICERO 299 
 
 diminution of their power, honest people did not get 
 accustomed so easily as might have been expected to the 
 loss of their liberty. In proportion as they left Pharsalia 
 behind, their regrets became more lively. They began to 
 get over the surprise of the defeat, and gradually recovered 
 from the fear it had caused them. During the moments 
 that immediately follow those great disasters in which men 
 have expected to perish, they give themselves up entirely to 
 the pleasure of living, but this pleasure is one of those to 
 which men accustom themselves so quickly, and which are 
 taken so much as a matter of course, that they soon cease 
 to be sensible of it. All those terrified people who on 
 the morrow of Pharsalia desired only tranquillity, when it 
 had been given them, wished for something else. As long 
 as men are uncertain of their life, they do not trouble 
 themselves to know if they shall live free, but when once 
 life is assured, the desire for liberty returns to all hearts, and 
 those who served Caesar felt it like the rest. Caesar, we 
 know, partly satisfied this desire, but this satisfaction did 
 not last long. It is as difficult to halt on the road to liberty 
 as on that to absolutism. One favour granted makes men 
 desire another, and men think less of enjoying what they 
 have obtained than of lamenting what they lack. It was 
 thus that Cicero, who had welcomed Caesar's clemency 
 with transports of joy, and who saluted the return of 
 Marcellus as a sort of restoration of the republic, soon 
 changed his opinion and language. As we get on further 
 in his correspondence, he becomes more bitter and more 
 revolutionary. He who had so severely condemned those 
 who "after having disarmed their hands did not disarm 
 their hearts," ^ had his own heart filled with the bitterest 
 resentment. He said on every opportunity that all was 
 lost, that he blushed to be a slave, that he was ashamed to 
 1 Pro Marc. lo. 
 
300 CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 live. He attacked with his pitiless raillery the most useful 
 measures and the most just acts. He laughed at the 
 reform of the calendar, and pretended to appear scandalized 
 at the enlargement of Rome. He went further. On the 
 day that the senate ordered Caesar's statue to be placed 
 beside those of the ancient kings, he could not avoid making 
 a cruel allusion to the manner in which the first of these 
 kings had perished. " I am very glad," said he, " to see 
 Caesar so near to Romulus ! " i And yet it was scarcely a 
 year since, in his speech for Marcellus, he had implored 
 him in the name of the country to watch over his life, and 
 had said with much feeling, " Your safety is ours ! " 
 
 Caesar, then, had only malcontents around him. The 
 moderate republicans, on whom he reckoned to aid him in 
 his work, could not resign themselves to the loss of the 
 republic. The exiles whom he had recalled to Rome were 
 more humiliated by his clemency than grateful for it, and 
 did not give up their resentment. His own generals, whom 
 he loaded with riches and honours, without being able to 
 satisfy their cupidity, reproached him for his ingratitude, and 
 even plotted his death. The common people, at last, of 
 whom he was the idol, and who had so cheerfully granted all 
 his demands, the people themselves began to withdraw from 
 him ; they no longer welcomed his victories with the same 
 applause as formerly, and seemed to be afraid that they had 
 made him too great. When his statue was placed beside 
 those of the kings, the multitude, who saw it pass, remained 
 mute, and we know that the news of this unusual silence was 
 spread by the messengers of the allied kings and nations in 
 all the countries of the world, and caused it to be believed 
 everywhere that a revolution was at hand.^ In the provinces 
 of the East, where the last soldiers of Pompey were hiding, 
 the fire of civil war, which was smouldering rather than 
 1 AdAtt. xii. 45. ^ p^^ D^^t. 12. 
 
CAESAR AND CICERO 301 
 
 extinct, constantly revived, and these perpetual alarms, 
 without leading to serious danger, prevented the public 
 tranquillity becoming settled. At Rome, Cicero's works, in 
 which he celebrated the glories of the republic, were read 
 with enthusiasm ; anonymous pamphlets, which had never 
 been more violent or more numerous, were eagerly sought. 
 As happens on the eve of great crises, every one was dis- 
 contented with the present, unquiet about the future, and 
 prepared for the unforeseen. We know in how tragical a 
 manner this strained situation terminated. The stab of 
 Brutus' dagger was not altogether, as has been said, an un- 
 premeditated incident and a chance; it was the general 
 uneasiness of men's minds which led to and which explains 
 such a terrible catastrophe. The conspirators were but 
 little over sixty in number, but they had all Rome for their 
 accomplice.^ All this disquietude and rancour, those bitter 
 regrets for the past, those disappointed ambitions, this 
 baffled cupidity, this open or secret hatred, those bad or 
 generous passions of which men's hearts were full, armed 
 their hands, and the Ides of March were only the deadly 
 explosion of so much stored-up anger. Thus events frus- 
 trated all Caesar's projects. He did not find safety in his 
 clemency, as he thought ; he failed in that work of conciUa- 
 tion that he had attempted with the applause of the world : 
 he did not succeed in disarming parties. This glory was 
 reserved for a man who had neither his breadth of genius, 
 nor his generosity of character — for the crafty and cruel 
 Octavius. This is not the only time that history shows us 
 the sad spectacle of the success of ordinary men where the 
 greatest have failed ; but in enterprises of this nature success 
 depends above all on circumstances, and it must be admitted 
 
 ' " All the honest men," said Cicero {Phil. ii. 12), " in so far as they 
 could, have killed Caesar. Some wanted the means, others the resolu- 
 tion, several the opportunity ; no one wanted the will." 
 
302 CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 that they singularly favoured Augustus. Tacitus tells us 
 the principal cause of his good fortune, when he says, 
 speaking of the establishment of the empire : " There was 
 almost no one left who had seen the republic." ^ The men 
 over whom Caesar aspired to reign, on the contrary, had all 
 seen it. Many cursed it when it troubled the tranquillity 
 of their lives by its storms and agitations ; almost all re- 
 gretted it as soon as they had lost it. There is, notwith- 
 standing the perils to which it exposes men, a singular 
 charm and attraction in the habit and exercise of liberty 
 which cannot be forgotten when once it has been known. 
 It was against this inextinguishable memory that the genius 
 of Caesar was shattered. But after the battle of Actium, 
 the men who had looked upon the grand scenes of liberty, 
 and who had seen the republic, no longer existed. A civil 
 war of twenty years, the most murderous of all those that 
 have ever depopulated the world, had destroyed them 
 almost all. The recollections of the new generation did 
 not go further back than Caesar, The first sounds it had 
 heard were the acclamations that saluted the conqueror of 
 Pharsalia, of Thapsus, and of Munda ; the first spectacle 
 that had struck its eyes was that of the proscriptions. It 
 had grown up among pillage and massacres. During twenty 
 years it had daily trembled for its property or its life. It 
 thirsted for security, and was ready to sacrifice everything 
 for repose. Nothing attracted it towards the past, as the 
 contemporaries of Caesar had been attracted. On the con- 
 trary, all the memories of the past which survived only 
 attached it more to the government under which it lived, 
 and when by chance it turned its eyes backwards it found 
 many subjects for fear without any subject for regret. 
 It was only under these circumstances that absolute power 
 could peaceably succeed the republic. 
 ^ Ann, i, 3. 
 
BRUTUS 
 
 HIS RELATIONS WITH CICERO 
 
 We should not know Brutus without Cicero's letters. As 
 he has never been spoken of with composure, and as 
 political parties have been accustomed to screen their 
 hatred or their hopes under his name, the true features of 
 his character were early effaced. Amid the heated dis- 
 cussions that his mere name raises, while some, like Lucan, 
 exalt him almost to heaven, and others, like Dante, reso- 
 lutely place him in hell, it was not long before he became 
 a sort of legendary personage. To read Cicero brings us 
 back to the reaUty. Thanks to him, this striking but 
 indistinct figure, that admiration or terror have immoderately 
 enlarged, becomes more defined and takes human pro- 
 portions. If it loses in grandeur by being viewed so close, 
 at least it gains something by becoming true and living. 
 
 The connection between Cicero and Brutus lasted ten 
 years. The collection of letters they wrote to each other 
 during this interval must have been voluminous, since a 
 grammarian quotes the ninth book of them. They are all 
 lost, with the exception of twenty-five which were written 
 after the death of Caesar.^ Notwithstanding the loss of the 
 
 ^ The authenticity of these letters has been often called in question 
 since the last century, and has been debated in Germany quite recently 
 with much warmth, and a distinguished critic, F. Hermann of Gottingen, 
 has published some remarkable essays, to which it seems to me difficult 
 to reply, in order to prove that they are really letters of Brutus and 
 Cicero. I have summed up his principal arguments in Recherches sur 
 la manUre dont furent recueillies les lettres de Cich-on, ch. v. 
 
 303 
 
304 CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 rest, Brutus still holds such a large place in the surviving 
 - *■ works of Cicero, and especially in his correspondence, that 
 we find in it all the elements necessary for becoming well 
 acquainted with him. I am going to collect these refer- 
 ences, and to re-write, not the narrative of Brutus' entire life, 
 which would oblige me to dwell upon very well-known 
 events, but only the history of his relations with Cicero. 
 
 Atticus, the friend of everybody, brought them together. 
 It was about the year 700, a short time after Cicero's return 
 from exile, and in the midst of the troubles stirred up by 
 Clodius, one of those vulgar agitators like CatiUne, by whose 
 means Caesar exhausted the strength of the Roman 
 aristocracy that he might one day overcome it more easily. 
 Cicero and Brutus occupied at that time very different 
 positions in the republic. Cicero had filled the .highest 
 offices, and in them had rendered eminent services. His 
 talents and his probity made him a valuable auxiliary 
 for the aristocratical party to which he was attached ; he 
 was not without influence with the people whom his 
 eloquence charmed; the provinces loved him, as they 
 had seen him more than once defend their interests 
 against greedy governors, and still more recently Italy had 
 shown her affection by carrying him in triumph from 
 Brundusium to Rome. Brutus was only thirty-one ; a great 
 part of his life had been passed away from Rome, at Athens, 
 where we know that he devoted himself earnestly to the 
 study of Greek philosophy, in Cyprus, and in the East, 
 where he had followed Cato. He had not yet filled any 
 of those offices which gave political importance, and he had 
 to wait more than ten years before thinking of \he consul- 
 
BRUTUS 305 
 
 ship. Nevertheless Brutus was already an important person. 
 
 In his early relations with Cicero, notwithstanding the 
 
 distance that age and official position set between them, 
 
 it is Cicero who makes the advances, who treats Brutus 
 
 with consideration, and who seeks his friendship. One 
 
 would say that this young man had given rise to singular 
 
 expectations, and that it was already vaguely felt that he 
 
 was destined for great things. While Cicero was in Cilicia, 
 
 Atticus, pressing him to do justice to certain claims of 
 
 Brutus, said : " It would be something if you only brought 
 
 back his friendship from that province." ^ And Cicero 
 
 wrote of him at the same period : " He is already the first 
 
 among the young men ; he will soon be, I hope, the first in 
 
 the city." 2 
 
 Everything in fact seemed to promise a splendid future 
 
 for Brutus. A descendant of one of the most illustrious 
 
 families of Rome, the nephew of Cato, the brother-in-law of 
 
 Cassius and Lepidus, he had just married one of the 
 
 daughters of Appius Claudius ; another was already married 
 
 to Pompey's eldest son. By these alliances he was connected 
 
 on all sides with the most influential families ; but his 
 
 character and manners distinguished him even more than 
 
 his birth. His youth had been austere : he had studied 
 
 philosophy, not merely as a dilettante and as being a most 
 
 useful discipline for the mind, but like a wise man who 
 
 wishes to apply the lessons that it gives. He had returned 
 
 from Athens with a great reputation for wisdom, which his 
 
 virtuous and regular life confirmed. The admiration that 
 
 his virtue excited was redoubled when his surroundings and 
 
 the detestable examples he had resisted were considered. 
 
 His mother Servilia had been the object of one of the most 
 
 violent passions of Caesar, perhaps his first love. She 
 
 always held a great sway over him, and took advantage of 
 
 ^ Ad Att. vi, I. 2 Adfam. iii. il. 
 
 X 
 
3o6 CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 it to enrich herself after Pharsalia by getting the property 
 of the conquered awarded to her. When she became old, 
 and felt the powerful dictator slipping from her, in order to 
 continue to rule him, she favoured, it is said, his amours 
 with one of her daughters, the wife of Cassius. The 
 daughter who had married Lepidus, had no better reputa- 
 tion, and Cicero tells a merry tale about her. A young 
 Roman fop, C. Vedius, going through Cilicia with a great 
 train, found it convenient to leave part of his baggage with 
 one of his hosts. Unfortunately this host died ; seals were 
 put on the traveller's baggage along with the rest, and to 
 begin with, the portraits of five great ladies were found in 
 it, and among them that of Brutus' sister. " It must be 
 admitted," said Cicero, who did not lose an opportunity for 
 a joke, " that the brother and the husband well deserve their 
 names. The brother is very stupid ibrutus) who perceives 
 nothing, and the husband very easy-going (lepidus) who 
 endures all without complaint." ^ Such was the family of 
 Brutus. As to his friends, there is no need to say much 
 about them. We know how the rich young men of Rome 
 lived at that time, and what Caelius, Curio, and Dolabella 
 were. Among all this dissipation the rigid integrity of 
 Brutus, his application to business, that disdain for pleasures, 
 that taste for study to which his pale and serious counten- 
 ance bore witness, stood out in higher relief by the contrast. 
 Accordingly all eyes were fixed on this grave young man 
 who resembled the others so little. In approaching him 
 men could not help a feeling that seemed ill suited to his 
 age : he inspired respect. Even those who were his elders 
 and his superiors, Cicero and Caesar, notwithstanding their 
 glory, Antony who resembled him so little, his opponents 
 and his enemies, could not escape this impression in his 
 presence. What is most surprising is, that it has survived 
 1 Ad Att. vi. I. 
 
BRUTUS 307 
 
 him. It has been felt in presence of his memory as it was 
 before his person ; living and dead he has commanded 
 respect. The official 'historians of the empire, Dio, who 
 has so roughly handled Cicero, Velleius, the flatterer of 
 Tiberius, all have respected Brutus. It seems that political 
 rancour, the wish to flatter, and the violence of party have 
 felt themselves disarmed before this austere figure. 
 
 While respecting him, they loved him. These are senti- 
 ments which do not always go together. Aristotle forbids 
 us to represent heroes perfect in all points in the drama, lest 
 they should not interest the public. Things go in ordinary 
 life very much as they do on the stage ; a sort of instinctive 
 dread holds us aloof from irreproachable characters, and as 
 it is usually by our common failings that we are drawn 
 together, we feel very little attraction towards a man who 
 has no failings, and are content to respect perfection at a 
 distance. Yet it was not so in the case of Brutus, and 
 Cicero could say of him with truth in one of the works that 
 he addresses to him : " Who was ever more respected and 
 loved than you ? " ^ And yet this man without weaknesses 
 was weak for those he loved. His mother and sisters had 
 great influence over him, and made him commit more than 
 one fault. He had many friends, and Cicero blames him 
 for listening too readily to their advice ; they were worthy 
 men who understood nothing of public affairs ; but Brutus 
 was so much attached to them that he could not protect 
 himself against them. His last sorrow at Philippi was to 
 learn of the death of Flavins, his overseer of works, and 
 that of Labeo, his lieutenant; he forgot his own self to 
 weep for them. His last words before his death were to 
 congratulate himself that none of his friends had betrayed 
 him : this fidelity, so rare at that time, consoled his last 
 moments. His legions also, although they were partly 
 1 Orat. 10. 
 
3o8 CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 composed of old soldiers of Caesar, and he kept them 
 tightly in hand, punishing plunderers and marauders, his very 
 legions loved him and remained faithful to him. Even the 
 people of Rome themselves, who were in general enemies 
 of the cause he defended, showed their sympathy for him 
 more than once. When Octavius proclaimed the assassins 
 of Caesar public enemies, every one sadly bowed their 
 heads when they heard the name of Brutus pronounced 
 from the rostrum, and in the midst of the terrified senate 
 which foresaw the proscriptions, a voice dared to declare 
 that it would never condemn Brutus. 
 
 Cicero fell under the charm like the rest, but not without 
 resistance. His friendship with Brutus was troubled and 
 stormy, and, notwithstanding the general agreement of their 
 opinions, violent dissensions arose between them more than 
 once. Their disagreements are explained by the diversity 
 of their characters. Never did two friends resemble each 
 other less. There never was a man who seemed made for 
 society more than Cicero ; he brought into it all the qualities 
 that are necessary for success, great flexibility of opinion, 
 much toleration for others, allowance enough for himself, 
 the talent of steering with ease between all parties, and a 
 certain natural indulgence that made him understand and 
 almost accept everything. Although he made bad verses, 
 he had the temperament of a poet, a strange mobility of 
 impression, an irritable sensitiveness, a supple, broad, and 
 quick intellect which conceived promptly, but quickly 
 abandoned its ideas, and passed from one extreme to 
 another at a bound. He did not make a single serious 
 resolution of which he did not repent the next day. When- 
 ever he joined a party he was only quick and decided at 
 the beginning, and gradually cooled down. Brutus, on the 
 contrary, had not a quick intelligence : he usually hesitated 
 at the commencement of an enterprise and did not decide 
 
BRUTUS 
 
 309 
 
 at once. Slow and serious, he advanced step by step in 
 everything, but, once resolved, he was so absorbed in his 
 conviction that nothing could divert him : he isolated and 
 concentrated himself in it, he excited and inflamed himself 
 for it by reflection, and at last listened only to that inflexible 
 logic that drove him to realize his purpose. He was one of 
 those minds of which Saint-Simon says that they have an 
 almost ferocious consistency. His obstinacy was the real 
 source of his strength, and Caesar well understood it when 
 he said of him : " All that he wills he means." 1 
 
 Two friends who resembled each other so little must 
 naturally have clashed at every opportunity. Their first 
 differences were literary. It was a custom then at the bar 
 to divide an important case among several orators j each 
 took the part best suited to his talents. Cicero, obliged 
 to appear often before the judges, went with his friends and 
 pupils, and gave out to them part of his work in order to 
 be able to get through it. He was often satisfied with 
 keeping the peroration for himself, in which his copious 
 
 ' Ad Att. xiv. I. — A very curious statue of Brutus is to be seen at 
 the Campana Museum. The artist has not tried to idealize his model, 
 and seems to have aimed at nothing but a vulgar exactness ; but we 
 can very well recognize in it the real Brutus. We can trace in that 
 low forehead and the heavy bones of the face a narrow mind and an 
 obstinate will. The face has a feverish and sickly look ; it is at once 
 young and old, as is the case with those who have never really been 
 young. Above all we perceive in it a strange sadness, that of a man 
 overwhelmed by the weight of a great and fateful destiny. In the fine 
 bust of Bratus preserved in the Museum of the Capitol, the face is 
 fuller and handsomer. The sweetness and sadness remain ; the sickly 
 look has disappeared. The features exactly resemble those on the 
 famous medal struck during Brutus' last years, and which bears on the 
 reverse a Phrygian cap between two daggers, with the threatening 
 legend, Idus Martiae. Michael Angelo commenced a bust of Brutus, 
 of which the admirable rough model may be seen at the Uffizi in 
 Florence. It was not a fancy study, and we see that he had made use 
 of ancient portraits while idealizing them. 
 
3IO CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 and impassioned eloquence was at home, and left them 
 the rest. It was thus that Brutus pleaded at his side and 
 under his direction. Brutus, however, was not of his 
 school : a fanatical admirer of Demosthenes, whose statue 
 he had placed among those of his ancestors, and nurtured 
 on the study of the Attic masters, he sought to reproduce 
 their graceful severity and vigorous strength. Tacitus says 
 that his efforts were not always happy : by dint of avoiding 
 ornament and pathos he was dull and cold, and by too 
 eagerly seeking precision and strength he became dry and 
 stiff. These faults were repugnant to Cicero, who always 
 saw in this type of eloquence, which was founding a school, 
 a criticism of his own, and tried by every means to convert 
 Brutus ; but he did not succeed, and on this point they 
 never agreed. After the death of Caesar, and when some- 
 thing else than literary discussions was in question, Brutus 
 sent his friend the speech he had just delivered in the 
 Capitol, and begged him to correct it. Cicero took good 
 care not to do so : he knew too well by experience the 
 self-esteem of the literary man to run the risk of- offending 
 Brutus by trying to do better than he. Besides, the speech 
 seemed to him very fine, and he wrote to Atticus that 
 nothing could have been more graceful or better written. 
 " Yet," added he, " if I had had to make it I should have 
 put more passion in it.''^ Assuredly Brutus did not lack 
 passion, but it was in him a secret and repressed flame that 
 only touched the nearest, and he disliked to give the rein 
 to those powerful emotions and that fiery pathos without 
 which one cannot carry away the multitude. 
 
 He was not then a docile follower of Cicero, and we may 
 
 add that neither was he an accommodating friend. He 
 
 lacked pliancy in his relations with others, and his tone 
 
 was always rough and abrupt. At the commencement of 
 
 1 Ad Att. XV. I, B. 
 
BRUTUS 311 
 
 their intercourse, Cicero, accustomed to be treated with 
 great respect even by the highest personages, thought the 
 letters of this young man were curt and haughty, and felt 
 hurt. This was not the only complaint he had to make 
 of him. We know the great consular's irritable, suspicious 
 and exacting vanity ; we know to what a degree he loved 
 praise ; he gave it to himself liberally and he expected it 
 from others, and if they were slow in giving it he was not 
 ashamed to ask for it. His friends were generally indulgent 
 to this harmless failing, and did not wait to be invited by 
 him to praise him. Brutus alone resisted ; he prided him- 
 self on his candour, and spoke out what he thought. 
 Accordingly Cicero often complains that he was chary of his 
 praises; one day indeed he was seriously angry with him. 
 It was a question of the great consulship, and of the dis- 
 cussion in consequence of which Lentulus and the accom- 
 plices of Catiline were executed. This was the most 
 vigorous action of Cicero's life, and he had a right to be 
 proud of it, since he had paid for it with exile. In the 
 narrative that Brutus gave of the events of this day he 
 depreciated the part that Cicero had played in them to the 
 advantage of his uncle Cato. He only praised him for 
 having punished the conspiracy, without saying that he had 
 discovered it, and contented himself with calling him an 
 excellent consul. " Poor praise ! " said Cicero angrily ; "one 
 would think it came from an enemy." i But those were 
 only small differences arising from wounded self-esteem, 
 which might easily be made up ; we must now mention a 
 graver disagreement that deserves to be dwelt upon, for it 
 suggests some serious reflections on the Roman society of 
 that period. 
 
 In 702, that is to say, a short time after the commence- 
 ment of his relations with Brutus, Cicero went out as pro- 
 1 Ad Att. xii. 21. 
 
312 CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 consul to Cilicia. He had not sought this office, for he 
 knew what difficulties he should find in it. He set out 
 decided to do his duty, and he could not do it without 
 bringing on his hands at the same time the patricians, his 
 protectors, and the knights, his prot'eg'es and clients. In 
 fact, patricians and knights, usually enemies, agreed, with 
 a singular unanimity, in plundering the provinces. The 
 knights, farmers of the public revenue, had only one 
 thought : to make a fortune in five years, the usual duration 
 of their contract. Consequently they exacted without mercy 
 the tax of a tenth on the productions of the soil, a twentieth 
 on merchandise at the ports, the harbour dues, the tax on 
 pasture-lands in the interior ; in fact, all the tribute that 
 Rome had imposed on the conquered nations. Their 
 greed respected nothing. Livy wrote this terrible sentence 
 about them ; " Wherever the ' publican ' penetrates, there 
 is no more justice or liberty for any one." ^ It was very 
 difficult for the wretched cities to satisfy these insatiable 
 financiers; almost everywhere the municipal coffers, ill 
 administered by incompetent, or pillaged by dishonest 
 magistrates, were empty. Money, however, had to be 
 found at any price. Now, of whom could they borrow 
 it, except of the bankers of Rome, who had been for a 
 century the bankers of the whole world ? It was to them 
 therefore that they applied. Some were rich enough to 
 draw from their private fortune money to lend to foreign 
 cities, or sovereigns, like that Rabirius Postumus, for whom 
 Cicero had pleaded, who furnished the king of Egypt 
 with the money necessary to reconquer his kingdom. 
 Others, in order to run less risk, formed financial companies, 
 in which the most illustrious Romans invested their funds. 
 Thus, Pompey had a share for a considerable sum in one 
 of those joint-stock companies founded by Cluvius of 
 ^ Liv. xlv. i8. 
 
BRUTUS 313 
 
 Puteoli. All these money-lenders, whether private indi- 
 viduals or companies, knights or patricians, were very un- 
 scrupulous, and only advanced their money at enormous 
 interest, generally 4 or 5 per cent, per month. Their 
 difficulty consisted in getting paid. As it is only men who 
 are quite ruined who accept these hard terms, the money 
 lent on such high interest is always subject to risk. When 
 the date of payment arrived the poor city was less than ever 
 in a position to pay : it employed a thousand pettifogging 
 tricks, spoke of complaining to the senate, and began by 
 appealing to the proconsul. Unfortunately for it, the pro- 
 consul was usually an accomplice of its enemies, and took 
 his share of their profits. The creditors who had secured 
 his co-operation by paying him well, had then only to send 
 into the province some freedman or agenti^who represented 
 them ; the proconsul placed the public forces at the service 
 of private interests, gave this agent the title of his lieutenant, 
 some soldiers, and full powers, and if the insolvent town 
 did not quickly come to some satisfactory arrangement, it 
 suffered the horrors of a siege and of official pillage in time 
 of peace. The proconsul who refused to lend himself to 
 these abuses, and who intended, according to Cicero's 
 expression, to prevent the provinces perishing, naturally 
 aroused the anger of all those who lived by the ruin of the 
 provinces. The knights, the nobles, who no longer got 
 their money, became his deadly enemies. It is true he 
 had the gratitude of his province, but this did not amount 
 to much. It had been remarked that, in those Eastern 
 countries "trained by a long servitude to loathsome 
 flattery," ^ the governors who received most adulation, and 
 to whom they raised most statues were precisely those who 
 had robbed the most, because they were the most dreaded. 
 Cicero's predecessor had completely ruined Cilicia: con- 
 1 Cic. Ad Quint, i. i. 
 
314 CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 sequently they thought of building him a temple. These 
 were some of the difi&culties to which an upright governor 
 exposed himself. Cicero extricated himself with honour. 
 Seldom was a province so well administered as his under 
 the Roman republic; but he only brought back from it 
 some gratitude, little money, and many enemies, and very 
 nearly quarrelled with Brutus. 
 
 Brutus, though we can scarcely believe it, had a hand in 
 this traffic. He had lent money to Ariobarzanes, king of 
 Armenia, one of those small princes that Rome charitably 
 allowed to live, and to the town of Salamis in the island 
 of Cyprus. At the moment of Cicero's departure for his 
 province, Atticus, who himself, as we know, did not despise 
 this species of gain, recommended these two affairs to him 
 very warmly; but Brutus had invested his money badly, 
 and it was not possible for Cicero to get him repaid. 
 Ariobarzanes had many creditors and paid none. " I can- 
 not imagine," said Cicero, " any one poorer than this king, 
 and anything more miserable than this kingdom." ^ No- 
 thing could be got from him. As to the business of 
 Salamis, it was from the first still graver. Brutus had not 
 dared, at the beginning, to acknowledge that he was directly 
 interested in it, the usury was so enormous and the circum- 
 stances so scandalous. A certain Scaptius, a friend of 
 Brutus, had lent a large sum to the inhabitants of Salamis 
 at 4 per cent, per month. As they could not repay it he 
 had, according to custom, obtained from Appius, Cicero's 
 predecessor, a company of cavalry, with which he held the 
 senate of Salamis so closely besieged that five senators had 
 died of hunger. On learning of this conduct Cicero was 
 shocked, and hastened to recall the soldiers of whom such 
 bad use had been made. He only thought he was hurting 
 a protege of Brutus; but as the affair took a more serious 
 ' Ad Att. vi. I. 
 
BRUTUS 31S 
 
 turn, Brutus showed his hand more openly, so that Cicero 
 might show himself more accommodating in arranging 
 matters. As he saw that he had no hope of being paid, 
 except at a great reduction, he became quite offended, and 
 decided to let it be known that Scaptius was only a man 
 of straw, and that he himself was the real creditor of the 
 Salaminians. Cicero's astonishment when he learnt this 
 will be shared by everybody, so much does Brutus' action 
 seem at variance with his whole conduct. Certainly no one 
 could doubt his disinterestedness and honesty. Some years 
 before, Cato had paid them a splendid tribute, when, not 
 knowing whom to trust, so rare were men of honour, he had 
 appointed him to collect the treasure of the king of Cyprus, 
 and to carry it to Rome. Let us be assured then, that if 
 Brutus conducted himself as he had done towards the Sala- 
 minians, it was because he thought he might legitimately do so. 
 He followed the example of others, he yielded to an opinion 
 that was universal around him. The provinces were still 
 considered as conquered countries by the Romans of that 
 time. They had been conquered too short a time for the 
 remembrance of their defeat to be obliterated. It was 
 supposed that they also had not forgotten it, which led to 
 distrust of them ; in any case it was remembered, and the 
 conquerors always thought themselves armed with those 
 terrible laws of war against which no one in antiquity had 
 protested. The property of the vanquished belonging to 
 the victor, far from blaming themselves for taking what 
 they took, they thought they gave whatever they did not 
 take, and perhaps at the bottom of their heart they thought 
 they were generous in leaving them anything. The pro- 
 vinces were regarded as the domains and property of the 
 Roman people {praedta, agri fructuarii populi Romani), and 
 they were treated accordingly. When they consented to 
 spare them it was not through pity or affection, but through 
 
3i6 CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 prudence, and in imitation of good landowners who take 
 care not to exhaust their fields by over-cultivation. This was 
 the meaning of the laws made under the republic to protect 
 the provinces ; humanity had a smaller share in them than 
 well-considered interest, which, in exercising a certain re- 
 straint on the present, is mindful of the future. Evidently 
 Brutus fully accepted this way of looking at the rights of the 
 conqueror and the condition of the vanquished. In this 
 we touch one of the greatest failings of this upright but 
 narrow soul. Brought up in the selfish ideas of the Roman 
 aristocracy, he had not sufficient breadth or elevation of 
 mind to perceive their iniquity ; he followed them without 
 hesitation till the time that his natural mildness and 
 humanity got the better of the recollections of his education, 
 and the traditions of his class. The mode in which he 
 behaved in the provinces that he governed shows that all his 
 life there was a struggle between the integrity of his nature 
 and these imperious prejudices. After having ruined the 
 Salaminians by his usury, he governed Cisalpine Gaul with 
 a disinterestedness that did him honour, and while he had 
 made himself detested in the island of Cyprus, the remem- 
 brance of his beneficent administration was preserved in 
 Milan even to the time of Augustus. The same contrast 
 is found in the last campaign ; he wept with grief at seeing 
 the inhabitants of Xanthus persist in destroying their city, 
 and on the eve of Philippi he promised his soldiers the 
 pillage of Thessalonica and Lacedaemon. This is the 
 single grave fault that Plutarch finds to censure in his 
 whole life; it was the last awakening of an inveterate 
 prejudice of which he could never get rid notwithstanding 
 his uprightness of mind, and which shows the sway that 
 the society in which his birth had placed him, exercised 
 over him to the last. 
 
 Yet this influence was not felt then by everybody. Cicero, 
 
BRUTUS 
 
 317 
 
 who, being a " new man," could more easily protect himself 
 against the tyranny of tradition, had always shown more 
 humanity towards the provinces, and blamed the scandalous 
 gains that were drawn from them. In a letter to his 
 brother he boldly proclaimed this principle,^ then altogether 
 new, that they must not be governed in the exclusive interest 
 of the Roman people, but also in their own interest, and in 
 such a manner as to give them the greatest amount of 
 happiness and well-being that was possible. This is what 
 he tried to do in Cilicia : accordingly he was very much hurt 
 by the action of Brutus, and flatly refused to have anything 
 to do with it, although Atticus, whose conscience was more 
 elastic, warmly begged him to do so. " I am sorry," he 
 replied, " that I am not able to please Brutus, and still more 
 so to find him so different from what I had thought him." ^ 
 " If he condemns me," he said elsewhere, " I do not want 
 such friends. At least I am certain that his uncle Cato will 
 not condemn me." ^ 
 
 These were bitter words, and their friendship would no 
 doubt have suffered much from these disputes if the grave 
 events which supervened had not drawn them together again. 
 Cicero had scarcely returned to Italy when the civil war, so 
 long foreseen, broke out. Private differences had to disappear 
 before this great conflict. Besides, Cicero and Brutus were 
 united by a singular community of feelings. Both had gone 
 to Pompey's camp, but both had done so without enthusiasm 
 or eagerness, as a sacrifice demanded by duty. Brutus 
 loved Caesar, who showed him a paternal affection on all 
 occasions, and moreover he detested Pompey. Besides the 
 fact that his pompous vanity displeased him, he could not 
 forgive the death of his father, killed during the civil wars of 
 Sulla. Yet, in this public danger, he forgot his personal 
 likings and hatreds, and went to Thessaly, where the consuls 
 '^ Ad Quint, i. i. ''■ Ad Att. vi. i. '^ Ibid. v. 21. 
 
3i8 CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 and senate were already. We know that he made himself 
 remarked for his zeal in Pompey's camp ; ^ many things how- 
 ever happened there 'which must have displeased him, and 
 no doubt he thought that too many personal rancours and 
 ambitions were mixed up with the cause of liberty which 
 alone he wished to defend. This also displeased his friend 
 Cicero and his brother-in-law Cassius, and these two last, 
 indignant at the language of those madmen who surrounded 
 Pompey, resolved not to pursue the war to extremes as others 
 wished to do. " I still remember," Cicero wrote later to 
 Cassius, " those familiar conversations in which, after long 
 deliberation, we made up our minds to allow our action, if 
 not the abstract justice of our cause, to be determined by the 
 result of a single battle." ^ We do not know whether Brutus 
 was present at these conversations of his two friends ; but it 
 is certain that all three behaved in the same manner. Cicero, 
 on the day after Pharsalia, refused the command of the 
 republican army ; Cassius hastened to hand over the fleet he 
 commanded to Caesar ; as to Brutus, he did his duty as a 
 brave man during the battle ; but, the battle over, he thought 
 he had done enough, and went over to the conqueror, who 
 welcomed him joyfully, took him apart in confidential con- 
 versation, and succeeded in obtaining some information 
 about Pompey's retreat. After this conversation Brutus was 
 completely gained over ; not only did he not go and rejoin 
 the republicans who were fighting in Africa, but he followed 
 Caesar to the conquest of Egypt and of Asia. 
 
 II. 
 
 Brutus was thirty-seven years old at the battle of Pharsalia. 
 This was the age of political activity among the Romans. 
 Usually a man had then just been quaestor or aedile; he 
 ' Ad Att. xi. 4. ^ Ad fam. xv. 15. 
 
BRUTUS 319 
 
 might look forward to the praetorship and the consulship, and 
 acquired a right to gain them by courageously contending in 
 the Forum or the Curia. The brightest hope of every young 
 man on entering pubUc life was to obtain these high 
 honours at the age appointed by law, the praetorship at 
 forty and the consulship at forty-three, and nothing 
 was thought to give greater distinction than to be able 
 to say, " I was praetor or consul as soon as I had the right 
 to be so {meo anno)." If by good luck, while a man held 
 these offices, fortune favoured him by some considerable war 
 that gave an opportunity of killing five thousand enemies, he 
 obtained a triumph and had nothing more to wish for. 
 
 There is no doubt that Brutus had conceived this hope 
 like the rest, and it is certain that his birth and his talents 
 would have permitted him to realize it ; Pharsalia upset all 
 these projects. He was not precluded from honours, for he 
 was the friend of him who distributed them ; but these 
 honours were now only empty titles, since one man had 
 seized all real power. This man really aimed at being 
 sole master, and admitted no one to share his authority. 
 "He does not even consult his own friends," says Cicero, 
 " and only takes counsel of himself." ' Political life did not 
 exist for the rest, and even those whom the new government 
 employed felt time hang heavy on their hands, especially 
 after the violent agitations of the preceding years. God, 
 according to Virgil's expression, gave leisure to everybody. 
 Brutus employed [this leisure by returning to the studies of 
 his youth, which he had rather interrupted than forsaken. 
 To return to them was to draw still nearer to Cicero. 
 
 He had not indeed forgotten him ; while following Caesar 
 
 in Asia he had learnt that his friend, having retired to 
 
 Brundusium, suffered at once from the threats of the 
 
 Caesarians, who did not forgive his going to Pharsalia, and 
 
 1 Ad fam. iv. 9. 
 
320 CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 from the ill-will of the Pompeians, who blamed him for hav- 
 ing returned too quickly. Amidst all this irritation, Cicero, 
 who, as we know, had not much energy, was very downcast. 
 Brutus wrote to him to encourage him. "You have performed 
 actions," said he, " which will speak of you, notwithstanding 
 your silence, which will live after your death, and which, by 
 the safety of the state, if the state is saved, by its loss, 
 if it is not saved, will for ever bear witness in favour of 
 your political conduct." ^ Cicero says that in reading this 
 letter he seemed to recover from a long illness, and to 
 open his eyes to the light. When Brutus returned to Rome, 
 their intercourse became more frequent. Knowing each other 
 better they appreciated each other more. Cicero, whose 
 imagination was so lively, whose heart was so youthful, in 
 spite of his sixty years, became entirely enamoured of 
 Brutus. This constant communication with a mind so 
 inquiring and a soul so upright, reanimated and revived his 
 talents. His friend always holds a large place in the fine 
 works that he published at that time, which succeeded each 
 other so rapidly. We see that his heart is full of him, he 
 speaks of him as often as he can, he is never weary of prais- 
 ing him, he wishes to please him before everything ; one 
 would almost say that he cares only for the praises and 
 friendship of Brutus. 
 
 It was the study of philosophy that united them above all. 
 Both loved and cultivated it from their yout^h, both seemed 
 to love it more and to cultivate it more ardently when the 
 concentration of the government in one hand had removed 
 them from public life. Cicero, who could not accustom 
 himself to repose, turned all his activity towards it. "Greece 
 is getting old," he said to his pupils and friends, " let us 
 snatch from her her philosophical glory ; " ^ and he at once 
 set about the work. He groped about for some time, and 
 ' Cic. Brut. 96. 2 J■J^^c. ii. 2. 
 
BRUTUS 321 
 
 did not immediately hit upon the philosophy that was suit- 
 able to his fellow-countrymen. He had been tempted for a 
 moment to direct their attention towards those subtle meta- 
 physical questions that were repugnant to the practical good 
 sense of the Romans. He had translated the Timaeus, that 
 is to say, the most obscure thing in Plato's philosophy ; but 
 he quickly perceived that he was mistaken, and hastened to 
 quit that path in which he would have walked alone. In 
 the Tusculan Disputations he returned to questions of applied 
 morality and did not leave them again. The diverse 
 characters of the passions, the real nature of virtue, the 
 relative rank of duties, all those problems that a virtuous 
 man proposes to himself during his life ; above all, that before 
 which he so often draws back, but which always returns with 
 a terrible persistency and troubles at times the most gross 
 and earthly souls, the future after death ; this is what he 
 studies without tricks of dialectical skill, without the preju- 
 dices of a school, without a preconceived system, and with 
 less anxiety to discover new ideas than to accept practical 
 and sensible principles wherever he found them. Such is the 
 character of Roman philosophy, of which we must be care- 
 ful not to speak ill, for it has played a great part in the 
 world, and it is through it that the wisdom of the Greeks, 
 rendered at once more solid and' yet more clear, has come 
 down to the nations of the West. This philosophy dates 
 from Pharsalia, like the empire, and owes much to the 
 victory of Caesar, who, by suppressing political life, forced 
 inquiring minds to seek other subjects for their activity. 
 Welcomed at first, with enthusiasm, by all minds unoccupied 
 and ill at ease, it became more and more popular in propor- 
 tion as the authority of the emperors became more oppressive. 
 To the absolute authority that the government exercised 
 over external actions they were glad to oppose the entire 
 self-possession that philosophy gives; to study oneself, to 
 
322 CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 withdraw into oneself was to escape on one side from the 
 tyranny of the master, and in seeking to know oneself the 
 ground to which his power had no access seemed to be 
 enlarged. The emperors understood this well ; and were 
 the mortal enemies of a science that was so bold as to limit 
 their authority. Along with history, which recalled dis- 
 agreeable memories, it soon fell under their suspicion; 
 they were two names, said Tacitus, unpleasing to princes, 
 ingrata principibus nomina. 
 
 I have not here to show why all the philosophical works 
 composed at the end of the republic or under the empire have 
 a much greater importance than the books we write now on 
 the same subjects : this has been too well told already for me 
 to have need to return to it.^ It is certain that during that 
 time when religion was confined to ritual, when its books 
 only contained collections of formulae and the minute 
 regulations of observances, and when it did not go beyond 
 teaching its adepts the science of sacrificing according to the 
 rites, philosophy alone could give to all virtuous and troubled 
 souls which were tossed about without definite aim and were 
 desirous of finding one, that teaching of which they had 
 need. We must not forget, then, when we read an ethical 
 treatise of that time, that it was written not only for lettered 
 idlers who are delighted with fine discourses, but for those 
 whom Lucretius represents as groping after the way of life ; 
 we must remind ourselves that these precepts have been 
 practised, that theories became rules of conduct, and that, 
 so to say, all this ethical theory was once alive. Let us 
 take for example the first Tusculan Disputation : Cicero 
 wishes to prove in it that death is not an evil. What a trite 
 remark in appearance, and how difBcult it is not to regard all 
 this elaborated treatment as an oratorical exercise and an 
 
 ' See on this question the very interesting Work of M. Martha, Les 
 Moralities Sous C Empire RomaiH, 
 
BRUTUS 323 
 
 essay for the schools ! It is nothing of the kind however, 
 and the generation for whom it was written found something 
 else in it. Men read it on the eve of the proscriptions to 
 renew their strength, and came from their reading firmer, 
 more resolute, better prepared to support the great mis- 
 fortunes that they foresaw. Atticus himself, the egotist 
 Atticus, so far removed from risking his life for anybody, 
 found in them the source of an unusual energy. " You 
 tell me," Cicero writes to him, "that my Tusculans give you 
 courage : so much the better. There is no surer and speedier 
 resource against circumstances than that which I indicate." ^ 
 This resource was death. How many people accordingly 
 availed themselves of it ! Never has a more incredible 
 contempt of life been seen, never has death caused less fear. 
 Since Cato, suicide became a contagion, a frenzy. The 
 vanquished, Juba, Petreius, Scipio, know no other way 
 of escaping the conqueror. Laterensis kills himself through 
 regret when he sees his friend Lepidus betray the republic ; 
 Scapula, who can no longer hold out in Cordova, has a 
 funeral pyre constructed, and burns himself alive; when 
 Decimus Brutus, a fugitive, hesitates to choose this heroic 
 remedy, his friend Blasius kills himself before him in order 
 to set him an example. It was a veritable delirium at 
 Philippi. Even those who might have escaped did not seek 
 to survive their defeat. Quintilius Varus put on the insignia 
 of his rank, and had himself killed by a slave ; Labeo dug his 
 own grave and killed himself on its brink ; Cato the younger, 
 for fear of being spared, threw away his helmet and shouted 
 his name ; Cassius was impatient, and killed himself too 
 soon ; Brutus closes the list by a suicide, astonishing by its 
 calmness and dignity. What a strange and frightful com- 
 mentary on the Tusculans, and how clearly this general truth, 
 
 ^AdAtt. XV. 2 
 
324 CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 thus put in practice by so many men of spirit, ceases to 
 be a mere platitude ! 
 
 We must study in the same spirit the very short frag- 
 ments that remain of the philosophical works of Brutus. 
 The general thoughts that we find in them will no longer 
 appear insignificant and vague when we think that he who 
 formulated them also intended to put them in practice in 
 his life. The most celebrated of all these writings of 
 Brutus, the treatise On Virtue, was addressed to Cicero, and 
 is worthy of them both. It was a fine work that was especi- 
 ally pleasing because it was felt that the writer was thoroughly 
 convinced of all that he said.^ An important passage preserved 
 by Seneca survives. In this passage Brutus relates that he 
 had just seen M. Marcellus at Mitylene, the same whom 
 Caesar pardoned later at the request of Cicero. He found 
 him employed in serious studies, easily forgetting Rome 
 and its pleasures, and enjoying in this tranquiUity and leisure 
 a happiness that he had never known before. "When I 
 had to leave him," says he, " and saw that I was going away 
 without him, it seemed to me that it was I who was going into 
 exile, and not Marcellus, who remained there." ^ From this 
 example he concludes that a man must not complain of being 
 exiled since he can carryall his virtue with him. The moral 
 of the book was that to live happily one need not go out- 
 side of oneself. This is another truism, if you like ; but, in 
 trying to conform his whole life to this maxim, Brutus made 
 it a living truth. It was not a philosophical thesis that he 
 developed, but a rule of conduct that he proposed to others 
 and took for himself. He was early accustomed to com- 
 mune with his own thoughts, and to place in this his 
 pleasures and pains. Thence came that freedom of mind 
 that he preserved in the gravest affairs, that contempt for out- 
 ward things that all his contemporaries remarked, and the 
 ^ Quint. X. I. 2 ggjj_ Cons, ad Hdv. g. 
 
BRUTUS 325 
 
 ease with which he detached himself from them. On the 
 eve of Pharsalia, when every one was restless and uneasy, he 
 was tranquilly reading Polybius and taking notes while await- 
 ing the moment of combat. After the Ides of March, in 
 the midst of the excitement and fears of his friends, he 
 alone preserved a constant serenity that rather annoyed 
 Cicero. Driven away from Rome and threatened by 
 Caesar's veterans, he consoled himself for everything by 
 saying : " There is nothing better than to rest upon the 
 memory of one's good actions, and not to busy oneself with 
 events or men." ^ This capacity for abstraction from out- 
 ward things and this self-sufificingness are certainly valuable 
 qualities in a man of reflection and study : it is the ideal that 
 a philosopher proposes to himself; but is it not a danger 
 and a fault in a man of action and a politician ? Is it right 
 for a man to hold himself aloof from the opinions of others 
 when the success of the things he undertakes depends upon 
 their opinions ? Under pretence of listening to one's con- 
 science, and resolutely following it, ought a man to take no 
 account of circumstances, and risk himself heedlessly in 
 useless adventures ? Indeed, by wishing to keep aloof 
 from the multitude, and preserve himself entirely from its 
 passions, does he not risk the loss of the tie that binds him 
 to it and becoming incapable of leading it? Appian, in the 
 narrative that he gives of the last campaign of the Republi- 
 can army, relates that Brutus was always self-possessed, and 
 that he kept himself almost aloof from the grave affairs that 
 were discussed. He liked conversation and reading ; he 
 visited as a connoisseur the places they passed through, and 
 made the people of the country talk to him : he was a 
 philosopher in the midst of camps. Cassius, on the con- 
 trary, occupied, solely with the war, never allowing himself 
 to be turned aside, and, so to say, wholly intent upon that 
 > Bpist. Brut. i. 16. 
 
326 CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 end, resembled a fighting gladiator.^ I suspect that Brutus 
 must have rather disdained that feverish activity entirely 
 confined to ordinary duties, and that this role of gladiator 
 made him smile. He was wrong ; success in human things 
 belongs to the gladiator, and a man only succeeds by throw- 
 ing his whole soul into them. As to those speculative men, 
 wrapped up in themselves, who wish to keep outside of and 
 above the passions of the day, they astonish the multitude 
 but do not lead it ; they may be sages, they make very bad 
 party leaders. 
 
 And further, it is very possible that Brutus, if left to him- 
 self, would not have thought of becoming a party leader. 
 He was not hostile to the new government, and Caesar had 
 neglected no opportunity of attaching him to himself by 
 granting him the pardon of some of the very much com- 
 promised Pompeians. On his return to Rome he confided 
 to him the government of one of the finest provinces of the 
 empire, Cisalpine Gaul. About the same time the news 
 came of the defeat of the republican army at Thapsus, and 
 the death of Cato. No doubt Brutus felt it very much. 
 He himself wrote and persuaded Cicero to compose the 
 eulogy of his uncle ; but we know from Plutarch that he 
 blamed him for refusing Caesar's clemency. When Mar- 
 cellus, who had just obtained his pardon, was assassinated 
 near Athens, some persons affected to believe and to say 
 that Caesar might well have been an accomplice in this 
 crime. Brutus hastened to write, with a warmth that sur- 
 prised Cicero, to exculpate him. He was at that time, then, 
 quite under the spell of Caesar. We may add that he had 
 taken a horror of civil war in Pompey's camp. It had 
 carried off some of his dearest friends, for instance Tor- 
 quatus and Triarius, two young men of great promise, 
 whose loss he bitterly regretted. In thinking of the dis- 
 ' App. De bell. civ. iv. 133. 
 
BRUTUS 327 
 
 orders it had caused, and of the victims it had made, he no 
 doubt said with his friend, the philosopher Favonius : " It 
 is better to endure arbitrary power than to revive impious 
 wars." 1 How, then, did he allow himself to be drawn on 
 to recommence them ? By what clever conspiracy did his 
 friends succeed in overcoming his repugnance, in arming 
 him against a man he loved, in involving him in an enter- 
 prise that was to throw the world into confusion ? This 
 deserves to be related, and Cicero's letters allow us to catch 
 a glimpse of it. 
 
 III. 
 
 After Pharsalia, there was no want of malcontents. That 
 great aristocracy that had governed the world so long, could 
 not consider itself beaten after a single defeat. It was so 
 much the more natural that it should wish to make a last 
 effort, as it was well aware that, the first time, it had not 
 fought under favourable conditions, and that, in uniting its 
 cause to Pompey's, it had placed itself in a bad position. 
 Pompey inspired little more confidence in those who de- 
 sired liberty than Caesar. It was known that he had a 
 taste for extraordinary powers, and that he liked to concen- 
 trate all public authority in his hands. At the commence- 
 ment of the civil war he had rejected the most just pro- 
 posals with so much haughtiness, and shown so much 
 ardour in precipitating the crisis, that he seemed rather to 
 wish to get rid of a rival who hampered him than to come 
 to the aid of the threatened repubhc. His friend Cicero 
 tells us that when the insolence of his associates, and his 
 own persistency in not taking advice from any one, were 
 seen in his camp, it was suspected that a man who took 
 1 Plut. Brut. 12. 
 
328 CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 counsel so ill before the battle would wish to make himself 
 master after the victory. That is why so many good 
 citizens, and Cicero among the chief, had hesitated so 
 long to take his part ; that is, above all, why intrepid men 
 like Brutus had hastened to lay down their arms after the 
 first defeat. It must be added that, if they were not per- 
 fectly satisfied about Pompey's intentions, it was also pos- 
 sible they might be mistaken about Caesar's projects. No 
 one was ignorant that he wished for power ; but what kind 
 of power ? Was it only one of those temporary dictator- 
 ships, necessary in free states after a period of anarchy, 
 which suspend liberty but do not annihilate it ? Was it a 
 question of repeating the history of Marius and Sulla, whom 
 the republic had survived? In strictness it might be 
 thought so, and nothing prevents us supposing that 
 several of Caesar's officers, those especially who, when 
 undeceived later, conspired against him, did not think so 
 then. 
 
 But after Pharsalia there was no longer any means of pre- 
 serving this illusion. Caesar did not demand an exceptional 
 authority ; he aspired to found a new government. Had 
 he not been heard to say that " republic " was a word void 
 of meaning, and that Sulla was a fool to have abdicated the 
 dictatorship ? His measures for regulating the exercise of 
 the popular suffrage in his own interest, the choice that he 
 had made in advance of consuls and praetors for several 
 years running, the delivery of the public treasure and the 
 administration of the revenue of the state by his freedmen 
 and slaves, the union of all dignities in his own person, the 
 censorship under the name of praefecture of morals, the per- 
 petual dictatorship, which did not prevent him getting him- 
 self appointed consul every year ; everything, in fine, in his 
 laws and in his conduct indicated a definitive taking posses- 
 sion of power. Far from taking any of those precautions to 
 
BRUTUS 329 
 
 hide the extent of his authority that Augustus employed 
 later, he seemed to exhibit it with complacency, and without 
 concerning himself about the enemies that his frankness 
 might make him. On the contrary, by a sort of ironical 
 scepticism and bold impertinence, that betrayed the great 
 nobleman, he loved to shock the fanatical partisans of 
 ancient usages. He smiled at seeing pontifs and augurs 
 scared when he dared to deny the gods in full senate, and 
 it was his amusement to disconcert those ceremonious old 
 men, the superstitious guardians of ancient practices. Fur- 
 ther, as he was a man of pleasure before all things, he loved 
 power not only for the sake of exercising it, but also to 
 enjoy its fruits ; he was not contented with the reality of 
 sovereign authority, he wished also for its outward signs, the 
 splendour that surrounds it, the homage it exacts, the pomp 
 that sets it off, and even the name that designates it. He 
 knew well how much that title of king that he so ardently 
 desired frightened the Romans j but his hardihood took 
 pleasure in braving old prejudices at the same time that his 
 candour no doubt thought it more honourable to give its real 
 name to the power he exercised. The result of this conduct 
 of Caesar was to dissipate all doubts. Thanks to it, illusion 
 or misunderstanding was no longer possible. The question 
 was now, not between two ambitious rivals, as at the time 
 of Pharsalia, but between two opposite forms of government. 
 Opinions, as sometimes happens, became clearly defined 
 one by the other, and the intention of founding a monarchy, 
 which Caesar openly avowed, brought about the creation of 
 a great republican party. 
 
 How was it that in this party the boldest and most violent 
 men formed the idea of uniting and organizing themselves ? 
 How, with growing confidence, did they come to form a 
 plot against the life of the dictator ? It is impossible to 
 find this out exactly. All that we know is that the first idea 
 
330 CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 of the plot had been formed at the same time in iwo quite 
 opposite parties, among the vanquished of PharsaHa, and, 
 what is more surprising, among Caesar's generals them- 
 selves. These two conspiracies were probably distinct in 
 origin, and each acted on its own account : while Cassius 
 was thinking of killing Caesar on the banks of the Cydnus, 
 Trebonius had been on the point of assassinating him at 
 Narbonne. They finally united. 
 
 Every party begins by seeking a leader. If they had 
 wished to continue the traditions of the preceding war, this 
 leader was already at hand. Sextus, a son of Pompey, re- 
 mained. He had escaped by a miracle from Pharsalia and 
 Munda, and had survived all his family. Conquered, but 
 not discouraged, he wandered in the mountains or along the 
 shores, by turns an able partisan or a bold pirate, and the 
 obstinate Pompeians united around him. But men no 
 longer desired to be of a Pompeian party. They wished to 
 have some one for chief who represented not merely a name 
 but a principle, one who should represent the republic and 
 liberty without any personal reservations. It was necessary 
 that he should be in complete opposition to the government 
 they were going to attack, by his life, his manners, and his 
 character. He must be upright, because the power was cor- 
 rupt, disinterested, in order to protest against the insatiable 
 greed that surrounded Caesar, already illustrious, in order 
 that the different elements of which the party was composed 
 should give way to him, and still young, for they had need of 
 a bold stroke. Now, there was only one man who united all 
 these qualities, namely Brutus. Consequently, the eyes of 
 every one were fixed on him. The public voice marked him 
 out as the chief of the republican party while he was still 
 the friend of Caesar. When the first conspirators went to 
 all quarters seeking accomplices, they always received the 
 same answer : " We will join you if Brutus will lead us." 
 
BRUTUS 331 
 
 Caesar himself, notwithstanding his confidence and his 
 friendship, seemed sometimes to have a presentiment whence 
 the danger would come to him. One day when they were 
 trying to alarm him with the discontent and threats of 
 Antony and Dolabella : " No," he replied, " those de- 
 bauchees are not to be feared ; it is the thin and pale men." 
 He meant chiefly to indicate Brutus. 
 
 To this pressure of public opinion, which wished to direct 
 the action of Brutus, and to implicate him without his 
 assent, it was necessary to add more formal exhortations in 
 order to persuade him ; they came to him from all sides. I 
 have no need to recall those notes that he found in his 
 tribunal, those inscriptions that were placed at the foot of his 
 grandfather's statue,^ and all those clever manoeuvres that 
 Plutarch has so well narrated. But no one better served the 
 designs of those who wished to make Brutus a conspirator 
 than Cicero, who, however, did not know them. His letters 
 show us the disposition of his mind at that time. Spite, 
 anger, regret for lost liberty break out in them with singular 
 vivacity. "I am ashamed of being a slave," ^ he wrote one 
 day to Cassius, without suspecting that at that very moment 
 Cassius was secretly searching for the means of being so no 
 longer. It was impossible that these sentiments should not 
 come to light in the books he published at that time. We 
 find them there now that we read them in cold blood ; much 
 more must they have been seen when these books were com- 
 mented on by hatred and read with eyes rendered penetrat- 
 ing by passion. How many epigrams were then appreciated 
 
 ^ Those who employed these manoeuvres well knew that they were 
 taking Brutus on his weak side. His descent from him who expelled 
 the kings was much contested. The more it was regarded as doubtful 
 the more anxious he was to prove it. To say to him : "No, you are 
 not Brutus," was to put on him the necessity or the temptation of 
 proving his origin by his actions. 
 
 ^ Ad fain, xv. 18. 
 
332 CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 which now escape us ! What stinging and bitter words, 
 unperceived now, were then applauded and maliciously 
 repeated in those conversations where the master and 
 his friends were pulled to pieces ! There was in them 
 what Cicero wittily calls " the bite of liberty which never 
 tears better than when she has been muzzled for some 
 time." 1 With a little effort we find allusions everywhere. 
 If the author spoke with so much admiration of the ancient 
 eloquence, it was because he wished to put to shame that 
 deserted Forum and that mute senate ; the memories of the 
 old government were only recalled in order to attack the 
 new one, and the praise of the dead became the satire of 
 the living. Cicero well understood the whole import of his 
 books when he said of them later : " They served me as a 
 senate or a rostrum from which I could speak." ^ Nothing 
 served more to stir up public opinion, to put regret for the 
 past and disgust for the present into men's minds, and thus 
 to prepare the events which were to follow. 
 
 Brutus must have been more moved than any one else 
 in reading Cicero's writings ; they were dedicated to him ; 
 they were written for him. Although they were meant to 
 influence the whole pubHc, they contained passages ad- 
 dressed more directly to him. Cicero not only sought to 
 arouse his patriotic sentiments ; he recalled the memories 
 and hopes of his youth. With perfidious skill he even in- 
 terested his vanity in the restoration of the ancient govern- 
 ment by pointing out what a position he might make for 
 himself in it. " Brutus," he said, " I feel my grief revive 
 when I look upon you and consider how the unhappy fate 
 of the republic has arrested the rapid advance to glory 
 which we anticipated in your youth. This is the true 
 cause of my sorrow, this is the cause of my cares and of 
 those of Atticus, who shares in my esteem and affection for 
 ' De Offic. ii. 7. ^ De Divin. ii. 2. 
 
BRUTUS 333 
 
 you. You are the object of all our interest, we desire that 
 you should reap the fruits of your virtue ; our most earnest 
 wishes are that the conditions of the republic may permit 
 you one day to revive and increase the glory of the two 
 illustrious houses you represent. You ought to be master 
 in the Forum and reign there without a rival ; we are, in 
 truth, doubly afflicted, that the republic is lost for you, and 
 you for the republic." ' Such regrets, expressed in this 
 fashion, and with this mixture of private and public interests, 
 were well calculated to disturb Brutus. Antony was not 
 altogether wrong when he accused Cicero of having been an 
 accomplice in the death of Caesar. If he did not himself 
 strike, he armed the hands that struck, and the conspirators 
 were perfectly right when, on coming from the senate house, 
 after the Ides of March, they brandished their bloody 
 swords and called aloud upon Cicero. 
 
 To these incitements from without there were added 
 others of a still more powerful kind from Brutus' own 
 household. His mother had always used the influence she 
 had over him to draw him towards Caesar ; but just at this 
 critical time Servilia's influence was lessened by the 
 marriage of Brutus with his cousin Porcia. Daughter of 
 Cato and widow of Bibulus, Porcia brought into her new 
 home, all the passions of her father and her first husband, 
 and especially hatred of Caesar, who had caused all her mis- 
 fortunes. She had scarcely entered when disagreements 
 arose between her and her mother-in-law. Cicero, who 
 tells us of them, does not relate to us their cause ; but it is 
 not rash to suppose that these two women contended for 
 the affection of Brutus, and that they wished to rule him 
 that they might draw him in different directions. Servilia's 
 influence no doubt lost something in these domestic discus- 
 sions, and her voice, opposed by the advice of a new and 
 ' Brut. 97. 
 
334 CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 beloved wife, had no longer the same authority when it 
 spoke for Caesar. 
 
 Thus everything combined to lead Brutus on. Let us 
 conceive this hesitating and scrupulous jnan attacked on so 
 many sides at once, by the incitements of public opinion, 
 by memories of the past, by the traditions of his family and 
 the very name he bore, by those secret reproaches placed 
 under his hands and scattered on his path, which came every 
 moment to strike his inattentive eyes, to murmur in his heed- 
 less ear, and then finding at home the same memories and 
 the same reproaches under the form of legitimate sorrows 
 and touching regrets. Must he not at last give way to 
 this daily assault? Nevertheless it is probable that he 
 resisted before giving in, that he had violent struggles 
 during those sleepless nights that Plutarch speaks of; but 
 as these private struggles could have no confidants they have 
 left no trace in the historians. 
 
 All that we can do if we wish to know them is, to try and 
 find their faint impression in the letters that Brutus wrote 
 later, and that are preserved. We see, for instance, that he 
 returns at two different times to this same thought : " Our 
 ancestors thought that we ought not to endure a t)n:ant even 
 if he were our own father.^ ... To have more authority 
 than the laws and the senate is a right that I would not 
 grant to my father himself." ^ Is not this the answer which 
 he made every time he felt himself moved by the memory 
 of Caesar's paternal affection, when he reflected that this 
 man against whom he was about to take arms called him his 
 child ? As to the favours that he had received or that he 
 might expect from him, they might have been able to dis- 
 arm another, but he hardened and stiffened himself against 
 them. "No slavery is advantageous enough to make me 
 abandon the resolution to be free." ^ It was with such con- 
 
 1 Epis. Brut, i, 17. '^ Ibid, i. 16. ' Ibid, i, 17. 
 
BRUTUS 
 
 335 
 
 siderations that he defended himself against the friends 
 of the dictator, perhaps against his mother, when in order 
 to dazzle him she pointed out to him that, if he would 
 acquiesce in the kingship of Caesar he might hope to share 
 it. He would never have consented to pay with his liberty 
 the right to doniineer over others ; the bargain would have 
 been too disadvantageous. " It is better to command no 
 one than to be a slave," he wrote. "A man can live without 
 commanding, but life as a slave is worthless." ^ 
 
 In the midst of all these anxieties of which no one could 
 know, an event happened which very much surprised the 
 public, and which Cicero's letters relate without explana- 
 tion. When it was known that Caesar was returning to 
 Rome after his victory over Pompey, Brutus went to meet 
 him with an alacrity that everybody remarked, and that 
 many people blamed. What was his intention? A few 
 words of Cicero, to which sufficient attention has not been 
 paid, allow us to guess. Before taking a definite resolution, 
 Brutus wished to make a last appeal to Caesar, and to try 
 once more to draw him towards the republic. He made a 
 point of commending to him the men of the vanquished 
 party, and especially Cicero, in the hope that they might be 
 recalled to public office. Caesar listened kindly to these 
 praises, welcomed Brutus, and did not discourage him too 
 much. The latter, with too easy confidence, hastened to 
 return to Rome, and announce to every one that Caesar was 
 coming back to the party of honest men. He went so 
 far as to advise Cicero to address a political letter to the 
 dictator, which should contain some good advice and make 
 some advances ; but Cicero did not share in his friend's 
 hopes, and after a little hesitation, refused to write. In 
 truth, Brutus' illusions did not last long. Antony had anti- 
 cipated him with Caesar. Antony, who by his follies had 
 ^ Quint, ix. 3. 
 
336 CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 disturbed the tranquillity of Rome, had much to be par- 
 doned for ; but he well knew the means of succeeding in 
 this. While Brutus was trying to bring Caesar and the 
 republicans together, and thought he had succeeded, 
 Antony, in order to soften his master, flattered his most 
 cherished wishes, and no doubt made that crown which he 
 so anxiously desired, glitter before his eyes. The scene of the 
 Lupercalia showed clearly that Antony had carried the day 
 and it was no longer possible for Brutus to doubt Caesar's 
 intentions. Antony's plan, indeed, did not succeed this 
 time : the cries of the multitude, and the opposition of the 
 two tribunes, forced Caesar to refuse the diadem that was 
 offered him ; but it was well known that this check had not 
 discouraged him. The occasion was only deferred, and was 
 about to present itself again. With regard to the Parthian 
 war, an old Sybilline oracle which said that the Parthians 
 would only be conquered by a king was to be brought 
 before the senate, and this title was to be demanded for 
 Caesar. Now there were too many foreigners and too many 
 cowards in the senate to admit of the answer being doubtful. 
 This was the moment that Cassius chose to reveal to 
 Brutus the plot that was being hatched, and to ask him 
 to be its head. 
 
 Cassius, whose name becomes from this moment insepar- 
 able from that of Brutus, formed a complete contrast to him. 
 He had gained a great military reputation by saving the 
 remains of Crassus' army and driving the Parthians from 
 Syria ; but at the same time he was charged with being fond 
 of pleasure, an epicurean in doctrine and conduct, eager for 
 power, and not very scrupulous about the means of gaining 
 it. He had pillaged the province he governed, like almost 
 all the proconsuls ; it was said that Syria had found little 
 advantage in being saved by him, and would almost as soon 
 have passed into the hands of the Parthians. Cassius was 
 
BRUTUS 337 
 
 bitter in raillery, uneven in temper, hasty, sometimes cruel,i 
 and we can well understand that he would not have shrunk 
 from an assassination; but whence came the idea of killing 
 Caesar? Plutarch says that it was through spite at not 
 having obtained the urban praetorship which the dictator's 
 favour had accorded to Brutus, and indeed, nothing pre- 
 vents us thinking that personal resentment had embittered 
 that impetuous spirit. Yet if Cassius had only this insult to 
 avenge it is not probable that he would have acted in con- 
 cert with the man who had been a party to it and had 
 profited by it. He had quite other motives for hating 
 Caesar. An aristocrat by birth and temper, his heart was 
 full of the hatred felt by the vanquished aristocracy; he 
 must have a bloody revenge for the defeat of his party, and 
 Caesar's pardon had not extinguished the anger that the 
 sight of his oppressed caste aroused in him. Thus, while 
 Brutus sought to be the man of a principle, Cassius was 
 openly the man of a party. It seems that he early had the 
 idea of avenging Pharsalia by an assassination. At least, 
 Cicero says that, a very few months after he had obtained 
 his pardon, he waited for Caesar on one bank of the Cydnus 
 to kill him, and that Caesar was saved only by the accident 
 that made him land on the other bank. He resumed his 
 purpose at Rome, notwithstanding the favours of which he 
 had been the object. It was he who got up the conspiracy, 
 sought out the malcontents, and brought them together in 
 secret meetings; and as he saw that they all demanded 
 Brutus for leader, he took upon himself to speak to him. 
 
 They were still at variance in consequence of their rivalry 
 for the urban praetorship. Cassius put his resentment aside 
 and visited his brother-in-law. " He took him by the 
 
 ' It must, however, be noticed that there are several of Cassius' 
 letters in Cicero's correspondence, and that some of them are witty and 
 very lively. There are even puns in them. — [Adfam. xv. 19.) 
 
 Z 
 
338 CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 hand," as Appian relates, and said : " ' What shall we do if 
 Caesar's flatterers propose to make him king?' Brutus 
 answered that he purposed not to go to the senate. 'What?', 
 replied Cassius. ' If we are summoned in our capacity as 
 praetors, what must we do then ? ' 'I will defend the republic,' 
 said the other, 'to the last.' 'Will you not then,' replied 
 Cassius, embracing him, 'take some of the senators, as 
 parties to your designs ? Do you think it is worthless and 
 mercenary people, or the chief citizens of Rome who 
 place on your tribunal the writings you find there ? They 
 expect games, races or hunting spectacles from the other 
 praetors ; what they demand of you is that you should 
 restore liberty to Rome, as your ancestors did.' " ' These 
 words completely gained over a mind that so many private 
 and public solicitations had unsettled for so long. Still 
 hesitating, but already almost gained, it only waited to find 
 itself face to face with a firm resolution in order to yield. 
 
 At last the conspiracy had a leader, and there was no 
 longer any reason to hesitate or to wait. To avoid in- 
 discretions or weaknesses it was necessary to act quickly. 
 Cassius had revealed everything to Brutus a short time 
 after the feast of the Lupercalia, which was kept on 
 February 15, and less than a month after, on March 15, 
 Caesar was struck down in the curia of Pompey. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Brutus was in reality the head of the conspiracy, although 
 he had not formed the first idea of it. Cassius alone, who 
 had formed it, could dispute the right of conducting it 
 with him, and perhaps he had for an instant the intention 
 
 ^ De Bell. civ. ii. 113. Plutarch relates the same thing, and almost 
 in the same words. 
 
BRUTUS 339 
 
 of doing so. We see that at first he proposed a plan 
 in which all the violence of his character is shown. 
 He wished that, with Caesar, they should kill his chief 
 friends, and especially Antony. Brutus refused, and the 
 other conspirators were of his mind. Cassius himself 
 yielded at last, for it must be remarked that, although 
 imperious and haughty, he submitted to the ascendency of 
 Brutus. He tried several times to escape from it; but 
 after many threats and fits of anger, he felt himself over- 
 come by the cold reasoning of his friend, and it was Brutus 
 who really conducted the whole enterprise. 
 
 This is clearly seen, and in the manner in which it was 
 conceived and executed we find his character and turn of 
 mind. We have not an ordinary conspiracy before us, 
 we have not to do with professional conspirators, with 
 men of violence and adventures. They are not vulgarly 
 ambitious men who covet the fortune or honours of others, 
 nor even madmen whom political hatred misleads even to 
 frenzy. No doubt these sentiments were found in the hearts 
 of many of the conspirators ; historians say so, but Brutus 
 forced them to lie hid. He made a point of accomplish- 
 ing his action with a sort of quiet dignity. It was the 
 system alone that he aimed atj he was animated by no 
 hatred against the man. After having struck him he does 
 not insult him ; he permits, in spite of many objections, his 
 funeral to be celebrated, and his will to be read to the 
 people. What occupies his thoughts most of all is that 
 he should not appear to work for himself or his friends, 
 and to avoid all suspicion of personal ambition or party 
 interest. Such was this conspiracy in which men of very 
 different characters took part, but which bears the imprint 
 of Brutus' own mind. His influence is not less perceptible 
 on the events that followed it. He did not act at random, 
 although Cicero accused him of doing so, and everybody 
 
340 CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 repeats it ; he had formed in advance a rule of conduct for 
 the future, he had a well-defined plan. Unfortunately it 
 was found that this plan, conceived in solitary reflection, far 
 from the intercourse and acquaintance of men, could not 
 be followed out. It was the work of a logician who reasons, 
 who purposes to conduct himself in the midst of a revolu- 
 tion as in ordinary times, and wishes to introduce the 
 narrow respect for legality even into a work of violence. 
 He acknowledged that he was mistaken, and he had to give 
 up successively all his scruples j but, as he had not the 
 pliability of the politician who knows how to submit to 
 necessity he gave way too late, with a bad grace, and always 
 looked back with regret to the fine projects he had been 
 forced to abandon. Thence came his hesitation and in- 
 coherence. It has been said that he failed through not 
 having had an exact plan in advance ; I think, on the 
 contrary, that he did not succeed through wishing to be 
 too faithful to the chimerical plan he had conceived, not- 
 withstanding the lessons given by events. A rapid recital 
 of the facts will suffice to show that it was this which 
 caused the loss of himself and his party, and made the 
 blood that was shed useless. 
 
 After the death of Caesar, the conspirators came out of 
 the senate house, brandishing their swords, and calling on 
 the people. The people listened to them with surprise, 
 without much anger, but without any sympathy. Seeing 
 themselves alone, they went up to the Capitol, where they 
 could defend themselves, and shut themselves in under 
 the guard of some gladiators. They were joined only by 
 some doubtful friends who always join parties when they 
 are successful. If there had been little eagerness to follow 
 them there was still less desire to attack them. Caesar's 
 partisans were scared. Antony had thrown off his consul's 
 robe and hidden himself. Dolabella affected to appear 
 
BRUTUS 341 
 
 joyful, and let it be understood that he also was one of the 
 conspirators. Many left Rome in haste, and fled into the 
 country ; yet, when they saw that all remained quiet, and 
 that the conspirators were contented with making speeches 
 in the Capitol, courage returned to the most timid. The fear 
 that this bold action had caused gave place to surprise at 
 such strange inaction. The next day Antony had resumed 
 his consular robes, reassembled his friends, and recovered 
 his audacity, and it was necessary to reckon with him. 
 
 "They have acted," said Cicero, "with manly courage, 
 but childish judgment j animo virili, consilio puerili." ^ It is 
 certain that they seemed to have prepared nothing, and 
 to have foreseen nothing. On the evening of the Ides of 
 March they were awaiting events without having done 
 anything to guide them. Was it, as has been said, im- 
 providence and levity? No, it was system and deliberate 
 intention. Brutus had only joined the others to deliver 
 the republic from the man who prevented the free play of 
 the institutions. He being dead, the people regained their 
 rights, and became free again to use them. The con- 
 spirators would have appeared to be working for themselves 
 in keeping even for a day that authority that they had 
 torn from Caesar. Now, to prepare decrees or laws in 
 advance, to arrange about regulating the future, to consider 
 the means of giving affairs the direction they wished, was 
 not this to take upon themselves in some sort the duty of 
 the entire republic? And what more had Caesar done? 
 Thus, on pain of appearing to imitate him, and to have 
 acted only through the rivalry of ambition, once the great 
 blow struck, the conspirators had to abdicate. This is how 
 I think their conduct must be explained. It was by a 
 strange prejudice of disinterestedness and of legality that 
 they remained voluntarily disarmed. They thought it 
 1 Ad Att. XV. 4. 
 
342 CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 glorious to act in concert only so far as to kill Caesar. 
 That act accomplished, they were to restore to the people 
 the direction of their affairs, and the choice of their govern- 
 ment, leaving them free to express their gratitude to those 
 who had delivered them, or if they so willed it, to repay 
 them by forgetfulness. 
 
 There the illusion commenced : they thought there was 
 only Caesar between the people and liberty, and that when 
 Caesar no longer existed liberty would naturally reappear ; 
 but on the day that they called on the citizens to resume 
 their rights, no one answered, and no one could answer, for 
 there were no longer any citizens. "For a very long time," 
 says Appian on this occasion, "the Roman people was only a 
 mixture of all the nations. The freedmen were confounded 
 with the citizens, the slave had no longer anything to 
 distinguish him from his master. In sum, the distributions 
 of corn that were made at Rome gathered the beggars, the 
 idle, and the scoundrels from all Italy." ^ This cosmopo- 
 litan population, without a past and without traditions, was 
 not the Roman people. The evil was old, and clear-sighted 
 minds must have perceived it for a long time. Cicero 
 seems to suspect it sometimes, especially when he sees 
 with what facility they trafiSc in votes at the elections. 
 Nevertheless everything continued with apparent regularity, 
 and things went on from the impulse they had received. 
 In such a condition of affairs, and when a state only moves 
 through habit, all is lost if this movement is arrested for a 
 single day. Now, with Caesar, the old machinery ceased to 
 act. The interruption was not long, but the machine was 
 so dilapidated that in stopping it fell to pieces entirely. 
 Thus the conspirators could not restore what was existing 
 before the civil war, and this last shadow of the republic, 
 imperfect as it was, disappeared for ever. 
 ' De Bell. civ. ii. 120. 
 
BRUTUS 
 
 343 
 
 This is why no one either listened to or followed them. 
 Courage must have failed more than one of them in that 
 Capitol where they were left alone, at the sight of the in- 
 difference of the populace. Cicero especially was distressed 
 at seeing that they did nothing but make fine speeches. 
 He wished them to act, to profit by the occasion, to die if 
 need were : " Would not death be glorious for such a great 
 cause ? " This old man, usually irresolute, had then more 
 resolution than all those young men who had just struck so 
 bold a stroke. And yet, what did he suggest after all? 
 "You must rouse the people again," he said. We have 
 just seen that the people would not respond. " You must 
 convoke the senate, and take advantage of its fears, to 
 extort some favourable decrees." ^ Assuredly the senate 
 would have voted whatever they wished : but when the 
 decrees had been made, how were they to be executed ? 
 All these schemes were insufficient, and it was hardly 
 possible to propose anything more practical to men who 
 were determined not to overstep the law. The only 
 possible chance was boldly to seize the government, to 
 hold it by violence and illegality, not even flinching from 
 proscription, and to replace by an aristocratic dictatorship 
 that popular tyranny they had just destroyed ; in a word, to 
 recommence the history of Sulla. Cassius perhaps would 
 have done this, but Brutus had a horror of violence. 
 Tyranny, from whatever side it might come, seemed to 
 him a crime; he would rather have perished with the 
 republic than save it by these means. 
 
 The few succeeding days passed in strange alternations. 
 There was a sort of interregnum during which the parties 
 contended with varying success. The people, who had not 
 followed the conspirators, did not support their enemies 
 either. As they did not know on what to rely men acted on 
 ' Ad Ait, xiv. 10, and xv. li. 
 
344 CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 both sides at random, and frequently in a contradictory and 
 surprising manner. One day an amnesty was proclaimed, 
 and Brutus went to dine with Lepidus ; the next, the con- 
 spirators' houses were set on fire. After having abolished 
 the dictatorship they ratified the acts of the dictator. The 
 friends of Caesar erected a column and an altar to him on 
 the Forum ; another friend of Caesar had them thrown 
 down. It was in the midst of this confusion, while the two 
 parties were wavering, undecided and hesitating, without 
 daring to strike, while each was looking around it to see 
 where the real forces were, that those who henceforth were 
 to be the masters appeared. 
 
 For a long time a secret revolution had been in operation 
 at Rome, which had been scarcely perceived because its 
 progress was slow and continuous, but which, when it was 
 complete, changed the character of the state. Campaigns had 
 been short while they had only been fought in the neighbour- 
 hood of Rome and in Italy. The citizens had not had time 
 to lose the traditions of civil life in the camp ; there had not 
 been a family either soldiers by trade, or generals by pro- 
 fession. But in proportion as wars were more distant, and 
 lasted longer, the men who carried them on became ac- 
 customed to living at a distance from Rome. They lost 
 sight of the Forum for so long a time that they forgot its 
 controversies and customs. At the same time, as the right 
 of citizenship was extended, the legion was thrown open to 
 men of all races. This medley completed the destruction 
 of the ties that bound the soldier to the city ; he acquired 
 the habit of isolating himself from it, of having separate 
 interests, and of looking on the camp as his country. 
 After the great Gallic war, which lasted ten years, Caesar's 
 veterans no longer remembered that they were citizens, and 
 their recollections did not go back beyond Ariovistus and 
 Vercingetorix. When it had become necessary to reward 
 
BRUTUS 345 
 
 them, Caesar, who was not ungrateful, distributed the finest 
 lands of Italy among them ; and this partition was made 
 under new conditions. Up to that time the soldiers, after 
 the war, returned into the mass of the people : when they 
 were sent to a colony, they were lost, and, as it were, absorbed 
 among the other citizens; but now they passed without 
 transition from their camp to the domains that had been 
 given them, and thus the military spirit was preserved 
 among them. As they were not far removed from one 
 another, and could communicate with each other, they did 
 not altogether lose the taste for a life of adventure. " They 
 compared," says Appian, " the toilsome labour of agriculture 
 with the brilliant and lucrative chances of battles." ^ They 
 formed then in the heart of Italy a population of soldiers, 
 listening for rumours of war, and ready to answer the first 
 call. 
 
 Precisely at that time there were many in Rome, whom 
 Caesar had called there while they were waiting for him 
 to grant them lands. Others were close at hand, in Cam- 
 pania, busied in settUng themselves down, and perhaps 
 disgusted with these preliminary toils of their settlement. 
 Some among them had returned to Rome on the rumour 
 of the events that were taking place, the rest were waiting to 
 be well paid before deciding, and put themselves up to 
 auction. Now, there was no want of buyers. The heritage 
 of the great dictator tempted every one's cupidity. Thanks 
 to those soldiers who were ready to sell their services, each 
 of the competitors had his partisans and his chances. Antony 
 was predominant over all by the lustre of his consular 
 authority, and the memory of Caesar's friendship ; but near 
 him was the debauchee Dolabella, who had held out hopes 
 to all parties, and the young Octavius, who came from 
 Epirus to receive the inheritance of his uncle. There was 
 ' De Bell, civ, iii. 42. 
 
346 CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 no one, even to the incapable Lepidus, who had not got 
 several legions in his interest, and who did not make some 
 figure among these ambitious men. And all, surrounded 
 by soldiers whom they had bought, masters of important 
 provinces, watched each other mistrustfully while waiting to 
 fight. 
 
 What was Brutus doing in the meantime ? The oppor- 
 tunity of the Ides of March having failed, heimight still have 
 taken advantage of the quarrels of the Caesarians to throw 
 himself upon them and crush them. The resolute men of 
 his party advised him to try this, and to call to arms all 
 those young men who, in Italy and the provinces, had 
 applauded the death of Caesar ; but Brutus hated civil war 
 and could not resolve to give the signal anew. As he had 
 fancied that the people would hasten to accept the liberty 
 that was given back to them, he had thought that the 
 restoration of the republic could be made without violence. 
 One illusion led him to another, and that stab which began 
 a frightful war of twelve years seemed to him bound to 
 assure public tranquillity for ever. It was in this belief 
 that, on coming out of the curia of Pompey where he had 
 just killed Caesar, he ran through the streets crying, "Peace ! 
 peace ! " And this word was henceforth his motto. When 
 his friends, on learning the dangers he was running, came 
 from the neighbouring municipia to defend him, he sent 
 them back. He preferred to remain shut up in his house 
 rather than give any pretext for the commencement of violence. 
 Forced to leave Rome, he remained hidden in the gardens 
 of the neighbourhood, disturbed by the soldiers, only going 
 out at night, but always expecting that great popular move- 
 ment that he persisted in hoping for. No one moved. He 
 removed still further and took refuge in his villas of Lanu- 
 vium and Antium. There he heard the rumours of war 
 with which Italy resounded, and saw all parties preparing to 
 
BRUTUS 347 
 
 fight. He alone always resisted. He passed six entire 
 months shrinking from this terrible necessity that became 
 more clearly inevitable every day. He could not resolve 
 to accept it, and asked advice of everybody. 
 
 Cicero even tells, in his letters,^ of a sort of council that 
 was held at Antium, to consider what it was needful to do. 
 Servilia was there with Porcia, Brutus with Cassius, and a 
 few of the most faithful friends had been invited, among 
 whom were Favonius and Cicero. Servilia, more anxious 
 for the safety than the honour of her son, wished him to 
 withdraw. She had obtained from Antony, who had re- 
 mained her friend, for her son and her son-in-law, a legatio, 
 that is a commission to go and collect corn in Sicily. It 
 was a specious and safe pretext for quitting Italy ; but what 
 a disgrace ! to leave with a permission signed by Antony, to 
 accept exile as a favour. Cassius would not consent ; he 
 spoke with passion, he was indignant, he threatened, " one 
 would have said he breathed only war." Brutus, on the 
 contrary, calm and resigned, questioned his friends, being 
 resolved to satisfy them at the risk of his life. Did they 
 wish him to return to Rome ? He was ready to go there. 
 Every one cried out at this proposition. Rome was full of 
 danger for the conspirators, and they would not uselessly 
 expose the last hopes of liberty. What should they do 
 then ? They only agreed in bitterly regretting the course 
 they had followed. Cassius regretted that they had not 
 killed Antony as he had demanded, and Cicero did not 
 care to contradict him. 
 
 Unfortunately these recriminations were of no use; it 
 was not a question of complaining of the past, the moment 
 had arrived for regulating the future, and they did not 
 know what to resolve upon. 
 
 Brutus did not immediately decide after this meeting. 
 1 Ad Att. XV. II. 
 
348 CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 He persisted in remaining as long as he could in his villa 
 at Lanuvium, reading and discussing, under his handsome 
 porticoes, with the Greek philosophers, his usual society. 
 It was necessary to go away, however. Italy was becoming 
 less and less safe, the veterans infested the roads and pil- 
 laged the country houses. Brutus went to Velia to join 
 some vessels that were waiting to conduct him to Greece. 
 He called his departure an exile, and, by a last illusion, he 
 hoped that it would not be the signal for war. As Antony 
 accused him of preparing for this, he replied to him in 
 Cassius' name and his own, by an admirable letter of which 
 this is the end : " Do not flatter yourself that you have 
 frightened us, fear is beneath our character. If other motives 
 were capable of giving us any leaning towards civil war your 
 letter would not take it from us, for threats have no power 
 over free hearts ; but you well know that we hate war, that 
 nothing can drag us into it, and you put on a threatening 
 air, no doubt to make men believe that our resolution is the 
 effect of our fears. These are our sentiments ; we wish to 
 see you live with distinction in a free state ; we do not wish 
 to be your enemies, but we have more regard for liberty 
 than for your friendship. We therefore pray the gods to 
 inspire you with counsels salutary for the republic and for 
 yourself. If not, we desire that your own party may hurt 
 you as little as possible, and that Rome may be free and 
 glorious ! " 1 
 
 At Velia, Brutus was joined by Cicero, who also thought of 
 leaving. Discouraged by the inaction of his friends, terri- 
 fied by the threats of his enemies, he had already attempted 
 to fly to Greece : but the wind had thrown him back on the 
 coast of Italy. When he learnt that Brutus was going to 
 leave, he wished to see him again and if possible start with 
 him. Cicero often spoke with a heartrending accent 
 ' Ad/am, xi, 3. 
 
BRUTUS 349 
 
 of the emotions of this last interview. " I saw him," he 
 related to the people later, " I saw him depart from Italy in 
 order not to cause a civil war there. O sorrowful spectacle, 
 I do not say for men only, but for the waves and the shores. 
 The saviour of his country was forced to flee, its destroyers 
 remained all-powerful." ^ 
 
 The last thought of Brutus at this sad moment was still 
 for the public peace. Notwithstanding so many disappoint- 
 ments he still reckoned upon the people of Rome; he 
 thought enough had not been done to arouse their ardour ; 
 he could not resign himself to believe that there were no 
 longer any citizens. He started with the regret that he had 
 not essayed another struggle by legal means. Doubtless it 
 was not possible for him to return to Rome and to reappear 
 in the senate ; but Cicero was less compromised, his fame 
 extorted respect ; men liked to listen to his words. Could 
 not he attempt this last struggle? Brutus had always 
 thought so ; at this moment he dared to say so. He 
 pointed out to Cicero a great duty to accomplish, a great 
 part to play ; his advice, his reproaches, his prayers, deter- 
 mined him to give up his voyage and return to Rome. He 
 seemed to hear, as he said later, " the voice of his country 
 recalling him ! " ^ And they separated not to meet again. 
 
 It was useless, however, for Brutus to resist ; the inevit- 
 able tendency of the events against which he had been 
 struggling for six months, dragged him into civil war. On 
 leaving Italy he had come to Athens, where he passed his 
 time in hearing the academician Theomnestes and the peri- 
 patetic Cratippus. Plutarch sees a clever dissimulation in 
 this conduct. "He" was preparing for war," he says, "in 
 secret." Cicero's letters prove that, on the contrary, it was 
 the war that went to seek him. Thessaly and Macedonia were 
 full of Pompey's old soldiers, who had remained there after 
 ' Philipp. X. 4. ^ Ad fain, x, I. 
 
350 CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 Pharsalia ; the islands of the Aegean, the towns of Greece, 
 which were regarded as a sort of asylum for the exiles, 
 contained many malcontents who had refused to submit to 
 Caesar, and since the Ides of March they were the refuge of 
 all who fled from the domination of Antony. Athens, in 
 truth, was full of young men of the greatest families of 
 Rome, republicans by their birth and their age, who went 
 there to finish their education. They were only waiting for 
 Brutus in order to take up arms. On his arrival, there was 
 a great and irresistible movement on all sides, to which he 
 was constrained to give way himself. Apuleius and Vatinius 
 brought him the troops that they commanded. The old 
 soldiers of Macedonia assembled under the command of 
 Q. Hortensius ; so many came from Italy, that the consul 
 Pansa at last complained and threatened to stop the recruits 
 of Brutus on their passage. The students of Athens, and 
 among them Cicero's son and the young Horace, deserted 
 their studies and enrolled themselves under him. In a few 
 months Brutus was master of all Greece, and had eight 
 legions. 
 
 At this moment the republican party seemed to awaken 
 everywhere at once. Cicero had succeeded better than he 
 had hoped at Rome, and had raised up enemies to Antony, 
 who had defeated him before Modena. Brutus had just 
 formed a considerable army in Greece. Cassius went over 
 Asia recruiting legions on his passage, and all the East had 
 declared for him. Hope returned to the most timid, and it 
 seemed that everything was to be hoped for the republic 
 from the co-operation of so many generous defenders. It 
 was, however, at this very moment, when it was so necessary 
 to be united, that the most serious disagreement broke out 
 between Cicero and Brutus. Whatever vexation it may 
 cause us, it must be told, for it completes our knowledge of 
 both. 
 
BRUTUS 351 
 
 Cicero was the first to complain. This man, usually so 
 weak and hesitating, had become singularly energetic since 
 the death of Caesar. Prudence, clemency, moderation, 
 great qualities that he appreciated much and readily prac- 
 tised, seemed no longer suitable to the circumstances of the 
 time. This great preacher of pacific victories preached 
 war to everybody ; this stern friend of legality asked every- 
 body to overstep it, " Do not wait for the decrees of the 
 senate," ^ he said to one. " Be your own senate," ^ he 
 wrote to another. To gain his ends, all means, even the 
 most violent, seemed good to him; all alliances pleased 
 him, even that of men whom he did not esteem. Brutus, 
 on the contrary, even while deciding to take up arms, 
 remained scrupulous and hesitating, and continued to 
 dislike violence. Although his name has become famous 
 chiefly through an assassination, blood was repugnant to 
 him. He spared his enemies when they were in his power, 
 in opposition to those inhuman laws, accepted by every- 
 body, which delivered up the vanquished unreservedly to 
 the will of the victor. He had just given an instance, by 
 sparing the life of Antony's brother after having conquered 
 him. Although he was a bad man, who had shown his grati- 
 tude by attempting'to corrupt the soldiers who guarded him, 
 Brutus had persisted in treating him with kindness. We 
 should not consider this a great crime, nevertheless they 
 were very much irritated about it at Rome. The furious 
 threats of Antony, from^whom they had just escaped with 
 so much diflSculty, the remembrance of the terrors they had 
 endured, and the terrible alternations they had passed 
 through for six months, had exasperated the most peaceable. 
 Nothing is more violent than the anger of moderate men 
 when they are driven to extremities. They wish to make 
 an end at any price and as soon as possible. They recalled 
 1 Adfam. xi, 7. ' Ibid. x. 16. 
 
352 CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 the repugnance and slowness with which Brutus had begun 
 the war. Seeing him so yielding, so clement, they were 
 afraid of seeing him fall back into his hesitation, and still 
 further defer the moment of vengeance and security. Cicero 
 undertook to let Brutus know of their discontent. In his 
 letter, which we still possess, he enumerates with much force 
 the mistakes that had been made since the death of Caesar ; 
 he recalls all the weaknesses and hesitations that had dis- 
 couraged resolute men, and, what must have especially 
 wounded Brutus, the absurdity of wishing to establish 
 public tranquillity by speeches. "Are you ignorant," said 
 he, " what is in question at this moment ? A band of 
 scoundrels and wretches threatens even the temples of the 
 gods, and it is our life or death that is at stake in this war. 
 Whom are we sparing ? What are we doing ? Is it wise to 
 treat gently men who, if they are conquerors, will wipe out 
 the very traces of our existence ? " ^ 
 
 These reproaches provoked Brutus, and he answered with 
 recriminations. He also was discontented with the senate 
 and Cicero. Whatever admiration he may have felt for the 
 eloquence of the Philippics, many things must have annoyed 
 him in them. The general tone of these speeches, their 
 bitter personalities, their fiery invectives, could not be 
 pleasing to a man who, in striking down Caesar, had wished 
 to appear passionless, and rather the enemy of a principle 
 than of a man. Now, if there is a great love of liberty in 
 the Philippics, there is also a violent personal hatred. We 
 feel that this enemy of the country is, at the same time, a 
 private and personal adversary. He had attempted to 
 enslave Rome, but he had also taken the liberty of quizzing 
 the weaknesses of the old consular in a very amusing 
 speech. Cicero's irritable vanity was roused when he read 
 this invective: "he took the bit between his teeth," ^ 
 ^ Ad Brut. ii. 7. ^ Adfam, xi. 23. 
 
BRUTUS 353 
 
 according to the expression of a contemporary. The 
 generous hatred he felt against a pubHc enemy was inflamed 
 by private rancour; a mortal struggle began, followed up 
 with increasing energy through fourteen orations. "I am 
 resolved," said he, "to overwhelm him with invectives, and 
 to give him over dishonoured to the eternal contempt of 
 posterity;"! and he kept his word. This passionate 
 persistence, this impetuous and violent tone must have 
 annoyed Brutus. Cicero's flatteries were no less displeasing 
 to him than his anger. He bore him a grudge for the ex- 
 aggerated eulogies that he gave to men who little deserved 
 them, to those generals who had served every cause, to 
 those statesmen who had submitted to every government, 
 to those men of ambition and intrigue of every sort, whom 
 Cicero had united with so much trouble, to form what he 
 called the party of the honest men ; he was specially vexed 
 at seeing him lavish praises on the young Octavius, and lay 
 the repubhc at his feet ; and when he heard him call him 
 " a divine young man, sent by the gods for the defence of 
 the country," he could scarcely contain his anger. 
 
 Which of the two was right? Brutus assuredly if we 
 think of the end. We see clearly that Octavius could not 
 be anything but an ambitious man and a traitor. The 
 name he bore was an irresistible temptation for him ; to 
 deliver the republic to him was to destroy it. Brutus was 
 right in thinking that Octavius was more to be dreaded 
 than Antony, and his hatred did not mislead him, when 
 he foresaw in this divine young man, who was so much 
 praised by Cicero, the future master of the empire, the heir 
 and successor of him whom he had slain. Was it really 
 Cicero who was to blame, or only the circumstances? 
 When he accepted the aid of Octavius was he at liberty to 
 refuse it? The republic had not, at that time, a single 
 1 Philipp. xiii.' ig. 
 
354 CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 soldier to oppose Antony, they had to take those of 
 Octavius or to perish. After he had saved the republic, it 
 would have been ungracious to haggle with him over thanks 
 and dignities. Besides, his veterans demanded them in a 
 way that did not brook refusal, and often gave them to him 
 in advance. The senate sanctioned everything as quickly 
 as possible, for fear that they would do without its assent. 
 " Circumstances," says Cicero somewhere, " gave him the 
 command, we have only added the fasces." ^ Thus, before 
 blaming Cicero's compliance, or complaining of his weak- 
 ness, they should have thought of the difficulties of his 
 position. He tried to re-establish the republic by the help 
 of men who had fought against it and did not love it. 
 What reliance could he place on Hirtius, the framer of a 
 severe law against the Pompeians, on Plancus and Pollio, 
 old lieutenants of Caesar, on Lepidus and Octavius, each 
 of whom wished to take his place? and yet he had no 
 other support than they. To that great and ambitious 
 man who, on the morrow of the Ides of March, wished 
 to make himself master, he could only oppose a coalition 
 of inferior or concealed ambitions. Nothing was more 
 difficult than to steer one's way in the midst of all these 
 open or secret rivalries. It was necessary to curb one by 
 the other, to flatter them in order to lead them, to content 
 them in part in order to keep them within bounds. Hence 
 those lavish grants or promises of honours, that profusion of 
 praises and titles, and those exaggerated official thanks. 
 This was a necessity imposed by the circumstances ; instead 
 of considering it a crime in Cicero to have submitted to it, 
 they should have drawn this conclusion, namely, that to 
 attempt another struggle by legal means, to return to Rome 
 to arouse the ardour of the populace, to trust again in 
 the force of memories, and the supreme power of oratory, 
 1 Philipp. xi. 8. 
 
BRUTUS 355 
 
 was to expose oneself to useless dangers and certain dis- 
 appointment. Cicero knew this well. Sometimes, no 
 doubt, in the heat of combat, he might allow himself to be 
 carried away by the triumphs of his eloquence, as on that 
 day, when he wrote naively to Cassius : " If one could 
 speak oftener it would not be very difficult to re-establish 
 the republic and liberty." ^ But this illusion never lasted 
 long. The momentary intoxication over, he was not long 
 in recognizing the impotence of oratory, and was the first to 
 say they could only place their hopes on the republican 
 army. He never changed that opinion. " You tell me," he 
 wrote to Atticus, " that I am wrong in thinking that the 
 republic depends entirely upon Brutus ; nothing is more cer- 
 tainly true. If it can be saved at all, it can only be by him 
 and his friends." ^ Cicero had undertaken this last enterprise 
 without illusions and without hope, and solely to yield to 
 the wishes of Brutus, who persisted in his love of consti- 
 tutional resistance and pacific struggles. Brutus, then, had 
 less right than any one to reproach him with having 
 succumbed. Cicero was right in often recalling that inter- 
 view at Velia, when his friend persuaded him, notwith- 
 standing his hesitation, to return to Rome. This recollec- 
 tion was his defence; it should have prevented Brutus 
 uttering any bitter word against him, whom he had himself 
 led into a useless enterprise. 
 
 Cicero must have deeply felt these reproaches, yet his 
 friendship for Brutus remained unaltered by them. He 
 still looks to him, he calls upon him, when all seems lost 
 in Italy. Nothing is more touching than his last cry of 
 alarm : " We are the sport, my dear Brutus, of the licence 
 of the soldiers and the insolence of their leader. Every one 
 wishes to have as much authority in the republic as he has 
 force. Men no longer know reason, measure, law, nor 
 1 Adfam. xii. 2. ^ AdAtt. xiv. 20. 
 
356 CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 duty ; they no longer care for public opinion or the judg- 
 ment of posterity. Come, then, and give at length to the 
 republic that liberty which you have gained for it by your 
 courage, but which we cannot yet enjoy. Every one will 
 press around you ; liberty has no refuge but in your tents. 
 This is our position at this moment ; would that it might 
 become better ! If it chances otherwise I shall only weep 
 for the republic ; it ought to be immortal. As for myself, I 
 have but a little time to live ! " i 
 
 A very few months afterwards, Lepidus, Antony, and 
 Octavius, triumvirs to reconstitute the republic, as they 
 called themselves, assembled near Bologna. They knew 
 each other too well not to be aware that they were capable 
 of anything, consequently they had taken minute pre- 
 cautions against each other. The interview took place on 
 an island, and they arrived with an equal number of troops 
 who were not to lose sight of them. For still greater 
 security, and for fear that any one should carry a hidden 
 dagger, they went so far as to search each other. After 
 having thus reassured themselves, they held a long con- 
 ference. There was no longer any question of reconsti- 
 tuting the republic ; what occupied their attention most, 
 besides the division of power, was vengeance, and they 
 carefully drew up a list of those who were to be slain. Dio 
 Cassius remarks that, as they detested each other profoundly, 
 a man was sure, if he was closely connected with one of 
 them, to be the mortal enemy of the other two, so that 
 each demanded precisely the heads of the best friends of 
 his new allies. But this difficulty did not stop them ; their 
 gratitude was much less exacting than their hatred, and in 
 purchasing the death of an enemy with that of a few friends 
 or even relations, they thought they made a good bargain. 
 Thanks to these mutual concessions, they soon came to an 
 * Ad Brut. i. lo. 
 
BRUTUS 357 
 
 agreement, and the list was drawn up. Cicero was not 
 forgotten in it, as we can well understand ; Antony urgently 
 demanded him, and it is not probable, whatever the writers 
 of the empire may say, that Octavius defended him with 
 much zeal; he would have constantly recalled to him a 
 troublesome gratitude and a glaring act of perjury. 
 
 With the death of Cicero we have reached the end of 
 this work, since we only proposed to study the relations of 
 Cicero and Brutus. If we wished to carry it further, and to 
 know Brutus' end as well, it would suffice to read the 
 admirable narrative of Plutarch. I should be afraid of 
 spoiling it by abridging it. In it we see that Brutus felt 
 intense sorrow on learning that Cicero had perished. He 
 regretted more than a friend that with him he had 
 lost a cherished hope, which he had been unwilling to 
 surrender. This time, however, he was bound to acknow- 
 ledge that there were no longer citizens at Rome, and to 
 despair of that base populace who thus allowed its defenders 
 to perish. " If they are slaves," said he sadly, " it is their 
 owii fault rather than that of their tyrants." No confession 
 could have cost him more. Since he had killed Caesar, his 
 life had been nothing but a series of disappointments, and 
 events seemed to play with all the plans he had formed. 
 His scruples about legality had caused him to lose the 
 opportunity of saving the republic ; his horror of civil war 
 had only served to make him begin it too late. It was not 
 enough that he found himself forced, in spite of himself, to 
 violate the law and fight against his fellow-citizens, he was 
 constrained to acknowledge, to his great regret, that in 
 expecting too much of men he was mistaken. He had a 
 good opinion of them when he studied them from a distance 
 with his beloved philosophers. His opinions changed when 
 he came to deal closely with them, when he had to be 
 a witness of the debasement of character, to detect the 
 
3s8 CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 secret greed, the senseless hatreds, the cowardly fears of 
 those whom he regarded as the bravest and most honest ! 
 He was so deeply grieved that, on learning of the last 
 weaknesses of Cicero, he came to doubt of philosophy 
 itself, his favourite science, which had been the delight of 
 his life. " Of what use has it beea to him," said he, " to 
 have written with so much eloquence for the liberty of his 
 country, upon honour, death, exile, or poverty? In truth, I 
 begin to have no more confidence in those studies in which 
 Cicero was so much occupied." ^ In reading these bitter 
 words, we think of those which he spoke before his death ; 
 the one explains the other, and each is a symptom of the same 
 internal trouble, which becomes great in proportion as the 
 experience of public affairs disenchants him more and more 
 with men and with life. He hesitated about philosophy, 
 vfhen he saw the weakness of those who had studied it 
 most deeply ; when he saw the party of the proscribers 
 triumphing, he doubted of virtue. 
 
 It was fitting that thus should perish this man of thought, 
 who had reluctantly become a man of action, and who was 
 thrown by the force of events out of his natural element. 
 
 ^ Epist. Brut. i. 17. 
 
OCTAVIUS 
 
 THE POLITICAL TESTAMENT OF AUGUSTUS 
 
 Cicero liked young men; he willingly frequented their 
 society and readily became young again with them. Just 
 after he had been praetor and consul, we see him surround- 
 ing himself with promising young men like Caelius, Curio, 
 and Brutus, whom he took with him to the Forum and 
 taught to plead at his side. Later, when the defeat of 
 Pharsalia had removed him from the government of his 
 country, he began to live familiarly with those light-hearted 
 young men who had followed the party of the conqueror, 
 and even consented, as a pastime, to give them lessons in 
 oratory. " They are my pupils in the art of speaking well," 
 he merrily wrote, "and my masters in the art of dining 
 well." 1 After the death of Caesar events brought him into 
 connection with a still younger generation, which then 
 began to appear in political life. Plancus, PoUio, Messala, 
 whom fate destined to become high dignitaries of a new 
 government, sought his friendship, and the founder of the 
 empire called him father. 
 
 The correspondence of Octavius and Cicero was published, 
 and we know that it formed at least three books. It would 
 have been very interesting had it been preserved. In read- 
 ing it we might follow all the phases of that friendship of 
 
 ' Adfam. ix. l6. 
 359 
 
36o CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 a few months which was to end in such a terrible manner. 
 Probabl)' the earlier letters of Cicero would show him dis- 
 trustful at first, doubtful and coldly polite. Nothwithstand- 
 ing what has been said, it was not he who called Octavius 
 to the help of the republic. Octavius came of his own 
 accord. He wrote to Cicero every day ; ^ he overwhelmed 
 him with protestations and promises, he assured him of a 
 devotion that could not fail. Cicero hesitated for a long 
 time to put this devotion to the proof. He thought 
 Octavius was intelligent and resolute, but rather young. 
 He dreaded his name and his friends. " He has too many 
 bad men around him," said he, " he will never be a good 
 citizen."^ Nevertheless he allowed himself to be gained 
 over; he forgot his mistrust, and when the boy, as he 
 affected to call him, had raised the siege of Modena, his 
 gratitude was carried to an excess that the prudent Atticus 
 disapproved, and which displeased Brutus. The joy that 
 he felt at the defeat of Antony made him forget all restraint ; 
 he was blinded and carried away by his hatred. When he 
 saw "that drunkard fall into the snares of Octavius, on 
 coming from his debauches," ^ he was beside himself. But 
 this joy did not last long, for he learnt of the treason of the 
 general almost at the same time as of his victory. It is at 
 this moment above all that his letters would become 
 interesting. They would throw a light on the last months 
 of his life, the history of which we do not know well. The 
 efforts that he then made to soften his old friend have been 
 imputed to him as a crime, and I admit that, consulting 
 only his dignity, it would have been better not to have 
 asked anything from him who had so basely betrayed him. 
 
 ' Ad Ait. xvi. II. ^ Ibid. xiv. 12. 
 
 ^ Adfam. xii. 25 : Quern ructantem ei nauseantem conjeci in Caesaris 
 Ociaviani plagas. 
 
OCTA VIUS 361 
 
 But it was not a question of himself alone. Rome had no 
 soldiers to oppose to those of Octavius. The sole resource 
 that remained in order to disarm him, was to remind him 
 of the promises he had made. No hope remained of 
 success in reviving any sparks of patriotism in that selfish 
 mind ; but the attempt at least should be made. The re- 
 public was in danger as well as the life of Cicero, and 
 what it was not proper for him to do to prolong his 
 own life, it was necessary to attempt in order to save the 
 republic. Supplication is not base when a man defends 
 the liberty of his country, and there is no other way of 
 defending it. It was, no doubt, at this terrible moment 
 that he wrote those very humble words to Octavius that 
 we find in the fragments of his letters : " Let me know for 
 the future what you wish me to do, I shall exceed your 
 expectation." ^ Far from reproaching him for his entreaties, 
 I admit that I cannot see without emotion this glorious old 
 man humble himself thus before the boy who had betrayed 
 his confidence, who had played with his credulity, but who 
 has the power to save or destroy the republic ! 
 
 Unfortunately there only remain fragments of these letters, 
 which can iieach us nothing. If we wish to know him 
 who held so great a place in the last events of Cicero's 
 life we must look elsewhere. It would be easy and in- 
 structive to reproduce here the opinions that the historians 
 of the empire give of him. But I prefer to keep to the 
 method that I have followed in this work to the end, 
 and if it is possible, to judge Octavius, like Cicero, by 
 what he tells us himself, by his admissions and his con- 
 fidences. In the absence of his correspondence arid memoirs 
 which are lost, let us take the great inscription at Ancyra, 
 which is sometimes called the political testament of 
 ^ Orelli, Fragm. Cic. p. 465. 
 
362 CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 Augustus, because he sums up his whole Hfe in it. Fortu- 
 nately it has come down to us. We know from Suetonius 
 that he had ordered it to be engraven on brass plates fixed 
 on his tomb.i It is probable that it was very widely diffused 
 in the first century of the Christian era, and that flattery 
 or gratitude had multiplied copies everywhere, at the same 
 time that the worship of the founder of the empire extended 
 throughout the universe. Fragments have been found 
 among the ruins of Apollonia, and it still exists entire at 
 Angora, the ancient Ancyra. When the inhabitants of 
 Ancyra erected a temple to Augustus, who had been their 
 benefactor, they thought they could not honour his memory 
 better than by engraving this account, or rather this 
 glorification of his life that he had himself composed. 
 Since that time, the monument consecrated to Augustus 
 has more than once changed its destination ; to the Greek 
 temple a Byzantine church succeeded, and to the church a 
 Turkish school. The roof has fallen in, dragging with it the 
 ornaments of the summit, the columns of the porticoes 
 have disappeared, and to the ancient ruins has been added 
 the rubbish of the Byzantine and Turkish buildings, which 
 are already also in ruins. But by singular good fortune the 
 slabs of marble which recount the actions of Augustus have 
 remained solidly attached to the indestructible walls. 
 
 This is a favourable opportunity for studying this monu- 
 ment. M. Perrot ^ has just brought from Galatia a more 
 
 ^ Suet. Atig. loi. 
 
 ^ Exploration archeologique de la Galatie, etc., par MM. Perrot, 
 Guillaume et Delbet. Paris, 1863. Didot. As the Galatians spoke 
 Greek and understood Latin ill, the official text was put in the place of 
 honour, in the temple itself, and the translation was placed outside 
 where every one might read it, in order to bring the narrative of 
 Augustus within their reach. But the exterior of the temple has not 
 been any more respected than the interior. The Turks have fixed their 
 
OCTAVIUS 363 
 
 correct copy of the Latin text, and an altogether new part 
 of the Greek translation which elucidates and completes the 
 Latin. Thanks to him, with the exception of a few lacunae 
 of little importance, the inscription is now complete, and 
 can be read from beginning to end. We can therefore now 
 perceive and interpret its general sense. 
 
 houses against the walls, carelessly driving their beams into the marble, 
 and using the solid masonry as a support for their brick and mud party- 
 walls. All the skill of M. Perrot and his companion M. Guillaume was 
 required to penetrate into these inhospitable houses. When they had 
 entered they met with stiil greater difficulties. It was necessary to 
 demolish the walls, take away the beams and support the roofs in order 
 to reach the ancient wall. This was but little. The wall was hammered 
 and cracked, blackened by dirt and smoke. How could the inscription 
 that covered it be deciphered ? It was necessary to remain for weeks 
 in dark and foul rooms, or on the straw of a loft, working by candle- 
 light, throwing the light in every direction on the surface of the marble, 
 and thus gradually winning each letter by extraordinary efforts of 
 courage and perseverance. This painful labour was rewarded by com- 
 plete success. Of nineteen columns of Greek text, the English traveller 
 Hamilton had copied five completely and fragments of another ; M. 
 Perrot brings back twelve entirely new ones. One only, the ninth, 
 could not be read ; it was behind a thick party-wall that it was found 
 impossible to pull down. These twelve columns, although they have 
 suffered much from the ravages of time, fill up in great part the lacunae 
 of the Latin text. They make us acquainted with entire paragraphs of 
 which no traces remain in the original ; and even in passages where the 
 Latin was better preserved they rectify at almost every step mistakes 
 that had been made in the interpretation of the text. M. Egger, in 
 his Examen des historiens dAuguste, p. 412 et seq., has carefully and 
 critically studied the inscription of Ancyra. M. Mommsen, with the 
 help of M. Perrot's copy, is preparing a learned work on this inscrip- 
 tion, after which, no doubt, nothing will remain to be done. (M. 
 Mommsen's work, that was announced in the first edition of this book, 
 has since appeared under the title : Res gestae divi Augusti ex monu- 
 mentis Ancurano et Apolloniensi. ) 
 
364 CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 The first characteristic that we notice when we read the 
 Ancyran inscription, is its majestic tone. It is impossible 
 not to be struck by it. We see at once, by a certain air of 
 authority, that the man who is speaking has governed the 
 whole world for more than fifty years. He knows the 
 importance of the things he has done : he knows that he 
 has introduced a new state of society, and presided over 
 one of the greatest changes of human history. Accordingly, 
 although he only recapitulates facts and quotes figures, all 
 he says has a grand air, and he knows how to give so 
 majestic a turn to these dry enumerations that we feel 
 ourselves seized by a sort of involuntary respect in reading 
 them. We must, however, be on our guard. A majestic 
 tone may be a convenient veil to hide many weaknesses; 
 the example of Louis XIV., so near to our own times, ought 
 to teach us not to trust it without examination. We must 
 not forget, besides, that dignity was so truly a Roman 
 characteristic, that its appearance was preserved long after 
 the reality had disappeared. When we read the inscriptions 
 of the latter years of the empire we scarcely perceive that 
 it is about to perish. Those wretched princes who possessed 
 but a few provinces speak as though they ruled over the 
 entire universe, and their grossest falsehoods are expressed 
 with an incredible dignity. If we wish, then, to avoid being 
 deceived when studying the monuments of Roman history, 
 we must be on our guard against a first impression, which 
 may be deceptive, and look at things closely. 
 
 Although the inscription that we are studying is called 
 "An account of the deeds of Augustus," it was not really 
 his whole life that Augustus meant to relate. There are 
 great and intentional lacunae; he did not intend to tell 
 
OCTAVIUS 36s 
 
 everything. When, at the age of seventy-six, and in the 
 midst of the admiration and respect of the whole world, the 
 aged prince reviewed his past life to make a rapid summary 
 of it, many memories must have disturbed him. There is 
 no doubt, for instance, that he must have been very re- 
 luctant to recall the earlier years of his political life. It 
 was needful, however, to say something about them, and it 
 was more prudent to try and gloss them over than to pre- 
 serve a silence that might give rise to much talk. He 
 extricated himself in the following manner : " At nineteen 
 years of age," he says, " I raised an army by my own exertions 
 and at my own expense ; with it I restored liberty to the 
 republic, which had been dominated by a faction that 
 oppressed it In return, the senate, by its decrees, admitted 
 me into its number, among the consulars, conferred upon 
 me the right of commanding the troops, and charged me 
 together with the consuls C. Pansa and A. Hirtius to watch 
 over the safety of the state with the title of pro-praetor. 
 Both the consuls having died the same year, the people put 
 me in their place, and appointed me triumvir to put in 
 order the republic." In these few lines, which form the 
 beginning of the inscription, there are already some very 
 singular omissions. One would infer from them that he 
 had obtained all the dignities that he enumerates, in serving 
 the same cause, and that nothing had happened between 
 the first offices that he had received and the triumvirate. 
 Thanks to the Philippics we know those decrees of the 
 senate which are here alluded to with a certain shameless- 
 ness. The senate congratulates the young Caesar "for 
 defending the liberty of the Roman people," and for having 
 defeated Antony ; now, it was after having concerted with 
 Antony to enslave the Roman people, in that dismal inter- 
 view at Bologna, that he received, or rather took the 
 
366 CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 title of triumvir. The inscription preserves a prudent 
 silence on all these things. 
 
 What followed this interview was still more difficult to 
 relate. Here especially Augustus desired forgetfulness. " I 
 exiled those who had killed my father, punishing their crime 
 by the regular tribunals. Then, as they made war against 
 the republic, I conquered them in two battles." It will be 
 remarked that there is no mention of the proscriptions. 
 What, indeed, could he say about them ? Could any arti- 
 fice of language diminish their horror? On the whole it 
 was more becoming not to speak of them. But as, accord- 
 ing to the fine reflection of Tacitus, it is easier to keep 
 silence than to forget, we may be assured that Augustus, 
 who says nothing here of the proscriptions, thought of 
 them more than once during his life. Even if he did not 
 feel remorse, he must often have been embarrassed by the 
 terrible contradiction between his past and his later policy ; 
 for, whatever he might do, the memory of the proscriptions 
 always belied his official character as a clement and honour- 
 able man. Even here, it seems to me, he betrays his em- 
 barrassment. His silence does not entirely satisfy him, he 
 feels that in spite of his discretion unpleasant memories 
 cannot fail to be awakened in the minds of his readers; 
 and, therefore, to anticipate and disarm them, he hastens to 
 add : " I carried my arms by land and sea over the whole 
 world in my wars against the citizens and foreigners. After 
 my victory, I pardoned the citizens who had survived the 
 combat, and I chose to preserve rather than to destroy those 
 foreign nations whom I could spare without danger," 
 
 This difficult place once passed it became easier to relate 
 the rest. Nevertheless, he is still very brief with respect to the 
 earlier times. Perhaps he feared lest the memory of the civil 
 wars should interfere with that reconciliation of parties which 
 
OCTA VIUS 367 
 
 the universal exhaustion had brought about after Actium ? 
 There is certainly not a single word in the whole inscrip- 
 tion to revive the former rancours. He says scarcely any- 
 thing of his old rivals. There is at the most but a single 
 disdainful word about Lepidus, and an ill-natured but pass- 
 ing accusation against Antony of having seized the treasures 
 of the temples. The following is all he says of his war with 
 Sextus Pompey which gave him so much trouble, and of 
 those valiant seamen who had vanquished him : "I cleared 
 the sea of pirates, and in that war I captured thirty thousand 
 fugitive slaves, who had fought against the republic, and de- 
 livered them to their masters to be chastised." As to that 
 great victory of Actium, which had given him the empire of 
 the world, he only recalls it to state the eagerness of Italy 
 and the western provinces to declare themselves in his 
 favour. 
 
 Naturally he prefers to dwell upon the events of the later 
 years of his reign, and we feel that he is more at ease when 
 he speaks of victories in which the vanquished were not 
 Romans. He is justly proud to recall how he had avenged 
 the insults the national pride had suffered before him : " I 
 re-took, after victories gained in Spain and over the Dalma- 
 tians, the standards that some generals had lost. I forced 
 the Parthians to restore the spoils and ensigns of three 
 Roman armies, and humbly to come and demand our friend- 
 ship. I placed these ensigns in the sanctuary of Mars the 
 Avenger." We can understand also that he speaks with 
 satisfaction of the campaigns against the Germans, being 
 careful, however, to pass over in silence the disaster of 
 Varus, and that he is anxious to preserve the memory of 
 those distant expeditions that impressed so strongly the 
 imagination of his contemporaries. " The Roman fleet," 
 he says, " sailed from the mouth of the Rhine towards the 
 
368 CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 quarter where the sun rises, as far as those distant countries 
 where no Roman had yet penetrated either by land or sea. 
 The Cimbri, the Charydes, the Semnones and other German 
 tribes of those countries sent ambassadors to ask my friend- 
 ship and that of the Roman people. Under my orders and 
 direction two armies were sent almost at the same time to 
 Arabia and Ethiopia. After having conquered many nations, 
 and taken many prisoners, they reached the city of Nabata, 
 in Ethiopia, and the boundaries of the Sabaeans and the 
 city of Mariba, in Arabia." 
 
 But whatever interest we may find in these historical re- 
 collections, the interest of the Ancyra monument does not 
 specially lie in them. Its real importance consists in what 
 it tells us of the internal government of Augustus. 
 
 Here again we must read with caution. Politicians are 
 very seldom in the habit of posting up on the walls of 
 temples the principles that guide them, and of imparting the 
 secrets of their conduct so generously to the public. It is 
 evident that Augustus, who wrote here for all the world, did 
 not intend to tell everything, and that if we wish to learn 
 the exact truth, and to know thoroughly the character of his 
 institutions, we must look elsewhere. The historian, Dio 
 Cassius, gives us the most complete information on this 
 subject. Dio is very little read, and it is not surprising, for 
 he has none of the qualities that attract readers. His narrative 
 is constantly interrupted by interminable harangues, which 
 repel the most patient reader. He was a man of narrow 
 mind, without political capacity, taken up with ridiculous 
 superstitions, and he attributes the same characteristics to his 
 historical personages. Truly it was worth while to have been 
 twice consul in order to tell us seriously that, after a great 
 defeat, Octavius took courage on seeing a fish leap out of the 
 sea to his feet ! What adds to the annoyance he gives us is, 
 
OCTA VIUS 369 
 
 that as he has often treated of the same subjects as Tacitus, 
 he constantly suggests comparisons that are unflattering to 
 himself. We must, however, take care not to underrate 
 him ; tedious as he is, he renders us very useful services. If 
 he has not the broad views of Tacitus, he devotes himself to 
 details and does wonders. No one has ever been more exact 
 and minute than he. I think of him as a zealous government 
 official who has passed through all the grades and grown old 
 in his profession. He knows thoroughly that official and 
 administrative world in which he has lived ; he speaks of it 
 accurately, and loves to speak of it. With these inclinations, 
 it is natural that he should be interested in the reforms in- 
 troduced by Augustus into the internal government of the 
 empire. He is anxious to let us know them in detail ; and, 
 true to his rhetorician's habits and to his unbridled love for 
 fine speeches, he assumes that it was Maecenas who pro- 
 posed to Augustus to establish them, and he takes advantage 
 of the opportunity to make him speak at great length.^ The 
 discourse of Maecenas contains, in truth, what we may call 
 the general theory of the empire. This interesting sketch, 
 which was realized later, aids us greatly in understanding 
 that part which we have still to examine of the inscription of 
 Ancyra. We should always bear it in mind in order to appre- 
 hend thoroughly the spirit of the institutions of Augustus, the 
 motive of his liberalities, the hidden meaning of the facts he 
 mentions, and above all the character of his relations with 
 the different classes of citizens. 
 
 Let us begin by studying the relations of Augustus with 
 his soldiers. "About . . . thousand Romans,"^ says he, 
 " bore arms under me. I established in colonies, or sent 
 
 1 Dio, lii. 14 — 40, See what M. Egger says of Dio in his Examen 
 des hist, d'Aug. ch. viii. 
 
 2 The figure cannot be read either in the Latin or Greek. 
 
 BB 
 
370 CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 back to their municipia after their term of service, rather 
 more than three hundred thousand. I gave land, or money 
 to buy it, to all of them." On two different occasions, after 
 the wars against Sextus Pompey, and against Antony, 
 Augustus was at the head of about fifty legions ; he had 
 only twenty-five when he died. But this number, reduced 
 as it was, still weighed intolerably upon the finances of the 
 empire. The immense increase of expenditure that the 
 creation of great standing armies threw upon the treasury 
 prevented Augustus for a long time, notwithstanding the 
 prosperity of his reign, from having what we should now call 
 a budget in equilibrium. Four times he was obliged to aid 
 the public treasury from his private fortune, and he reckons 
 the amounts that he presented to the state at one hundred 
 and fifty million sesterces (;^i, 200,000). He had much 
 trouble to remedy these financial difficulties, of which the 
 expenses of the army were the principal cause. This gave 
 him the idea of creating a sort of military pension fund, and 
 of appealing, in order to fill it, to the generosity of the allied 
 kings and cities, and of the richest Roman citizens ; and in 
 order to stimulate others by his own example, he gave one 
 hundred and seventy million sesterces (;^r, 360,000) at one 
 time. But these voluntary gifts being insufficient it was 
 necessary to impose new taxes, and to fill the treasury of 
 the army with the proceeds of a tax of a twentieth on 
 inheritances and a hundredth on sales. Yet it seems that, 
 notwithstanding these efforts, pensions were ill paid, since 
 this was one of the grievances that the legions of Pannonia 
 alleged in their revolt against Tiberius. It is certain that 
 the army of Augustus was one of the greatest anxieties of 
 his administration. His own legions gave him as much 
 trouble as those of the enemy. He had to do with soldiers 
 who felt that they were the masters, and who for ten years 
 
OCTAVIUS 371 
 
 had been corrupted by flattery and promises. On the eve 
 of battle they were very exacting because they knew how 
 much they were required; after victory they became un- 
 manageable from the pride with which it inspired them. In 
 order to satisfy them, it would have been necessary to 
 expropriate all the inhabitants of Italy in a body. Octavius 
 had consented to this at first, after Philippi ; but later, when 
 his policy changed, when he understood that he could not 
 found a stable government if he drew on himself the hatred 
 of the Italians, he resolved to pay the proprietors hand- 
 somely for the lands that he gave his veterans. " I re- 
 imbursed the municipia," he says, "in money, the value of 
 the lands that I gave to my soldiers in my fourth consul- 
 ship, and later under the consulship of M. Crassus and Cn. 
 Lentulus. I paid six hundred million sesterces (;^4,8oo,ooo) 
 for the lands situated in Italy, and two hundred and sixty 
 million sesterces (;i^2,o8o,ooo) for those situated in the pro- 
 vinces. Of all those who have established colonies of soldiers 
 in the provinces and in Italy, I am, up to now, the first and 
 only one who has acted thus." He was right in boasting of it. 
 It was not at all the habit of the generals of that time to pay 
 for what they took, and he himself had given another example 
 for a long time. When, a little later, he dared to resist the 
 demands of his veterans, he had to maintain terrible struggles 
 in which his life was more than once in danger. In every way, 
 his demeanour towards his soldiers at that time is one of the 
 things that do him most honour. He owed everything to 
 them, and he had none of the qualities which were neces- 
 sary to master them, neither the abilities of Caesar nor the 
 defects of Antony ; and yet he dared to make head against 
 them, and succeeded in obtaining the mastery. It is very 
 remarkable that, although he had gained his power solely by 
 war, he was able to maintain the predominance of the civil 
 
372 CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 element in the government that he founded. If the empire, 
 in which there was no longer any other element of strength 
 and life than the army, did not become from that period a 
 military monarchy, it is assuredly owing to his firmness. 
 
 Nothing is more simple than the relations of Augustus 
 with the people. The information that the Ancyra inscrip- 
 tion furnishes upon this subject is quite in accord with the 
 discourse of Maecenas : he fed them and amused them. 
 Here, to begin with, is the exact account of the sums he ex- 
 pended to feed them : " I reckoned to the Roman people 
 three hundred sesterces {£^2 85.) a head according to my 
 father's testament, and four hundred sesterces {^£^2> ^^^ i'^ 
 my own name, out of the spoils of the war during my fifth 
 consulship. Another time, in my tenth consulship, I gave a 
 gratuity of four hundred sesterces to each citizen, from my 
 private fortune. During my eleventh consulship I made 
 twelve distributions of corn at my own cost. When I was 
 invested for the twelfth time with the tribunitian power, I 
 again gave four hundred sesterces a head to the people. 
 All these distributions were made to no fewer than two 
 hundred and fifty thousand persons. Invested for the eigh- 
 teenth time with the tribunitian power, and consul for the 
 twelfth, I gave sixty denarii {£\ \qs. 4^.) a head to 
 three hundred and twenty thousand inhabitants of Rome. 
 During my fourth consulship I had one thousand sesterces 
 (;£8) for each of my soldiers, previously deducted from 
 the spoil, and distributed in the colonies formed by them. 
 About one hundred and twenty thousand colonists received 
 their share in the distribution that followed my triumph. 
 Consul for the thirteenth time, I gave sixty denarii to each 
 of those who then received distributions of corn; there 
 were rather more than two hundred thousand." After these 
 truly startling liberalities Augustus mentions the public 
 
OCTA VIUS 373 
 
 games he gave to the people, and although the text has 
 several lacunae here, we may suppose that it did not cost 
 him less to amuse the people than to feed them. " I gave 
 
 shows of gladiators^ times in my own name, and five 
 
 times in the names of my children or grandchildren. In 
 these diiferent/^/w about ten thousand men fought. Twice 
 in my own name, and three times in the names of my son 
 and grandson, I had combats of wrestlers whom I had brought 
 from all countries. I celebrated public games four times in 
 my own name, and twenty-three times in place of magistrates 
 who were absent or could not support the expense of these 
 games ... I showed twenty-six times in my own name, or 
 in the names of my sons and grandsons, African wild beast 
 hunts, in the circus, on the Forum, or in the amphitheatres, 
 and about three thousand five hundred of these beasts were 
 killed. I gave the people the spectacle of a naval combat, 
 beyond the Tiber, where the wood of the Caesars now is. 
 I had a canal dug there one thousand eight hundred feet 
 long by one thousand two hundred feet broad. There thirty 
 ships armed with rams, triremes, biremes, and a large number 
 of smaller vessels fought together. These vessels contained, 
 besides their rowers, a crew of three thousand men." Here, 
 as it seems to me, is a curious and oihcial commentary on 
 the famous expression of Juvenal, panem et circenses. We 
 see clearly that it was not a sally of the poet, but a veritable 
 principle of policy happily invented by Augustus that his 
 successors preserved as a tradition of government. 
 
 The relations of Augustus with the senate, we can well 
 
 • The figure cannot be read. The great number of gladiators who 
 fought, and no doubt perished in these \Aoo&y fkes will be noticed. 
 Seneca, to show how far men can become indifferent to death, relates 
 that, under Tiberius, a gladiator complained of the rarity of these grand 
 massacres; and alluding to the time of Augustus said: "That was a 
 good time ! Quam bella aetas periit ! " 
 
374 CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 understand, were more difficult and complicated. Even 
 after Pharsalia and Philippi it was still a great name that it 
 was necessary to treat with consideration. Depressed as it 
 was, the old aristocracy still caused some fear, and seemed 
 to deserve some regard. This is well seen by the care that 
 Augustus takes in his testament never to speak of the senate 
 but with respect. Its name comes up at every turn with a 
 sort of affectation. We should say indeed, if we trusted 
 to appearances, that the senate was then the master, and 
 that the prince was contented to execute its decrees. This 
 is what Augustus wished to be believed. He passed all his 
 life in dissembling his authority or lamenting about it. From 
 his royal dwelling on the Palatine he wrote the most 
 pathetic letters to the senate asking to be relieved of the 
 burden of public affairs, and he never appeared to have a 
 greater aversion for power than at the moment when he was 
 concentrating all powers in his own hands. It is not ex- 
 traordinary that we find these methods again in his testa- 
 ment: they had succeeded too well with his contemporaries 
 for him not to be tempted to make use of them with posterity. 
 Accordingly he continues to play the same comedy of moder- 
 ation and disinterestedness. He affects, for instance, to in- 
 sist as much upon the honours that he refused as upon those 
 that he accepted. " During the consulship of M. Marcellus 
 and L. Arruntius," he says, " when the senate and people asked 
 me to accept an absolute authority,^ I did not accept it. But 
 I did not refuse to undertake the supervision of supplies in 
 a great famine, and by the expenditure that I made I de- 
 livered the people from their fears and dangers. When, 
 in return, they offered me the consulship annually or for 
 
 ' There is some probability, according to a passage of Suetonius ^Aug. 
 52), that what the Greek text of the inscription calls absolute authority 
 (ouTeJouiribj apx^) was the dictatorship. 
 
OCTA VIUS 37S 
 
 life, I refused it." This is not the only time that he dwells 
 on his own moderation. More than once again he refers to 
 dignities or presents that he would not accept. But here, 
 indeed, is something that passes all bounds ; " In my sixth 
 and seventh consulship, after having suppressed the civil 
 wars, when the common voice of all the citizens offered 
 me the supreme power, I restored the government of the 
 republic to the senate and people. As a recompense for 
 this action I received the title of Augustus by a decree of 
 the senate, my door was encircled with laurels and sur- 
 mounted by a civic crown, and a golden shield was placed 
 in the Julian curia with an inscription recording that this 
 honour was awarded me as a mark of respect to my virtue, 
 clemency, justice, and piety. From this moment, although 
 I was above the rest in dignity in the offices with which I 
 was invested, I never claimed more power than I allowed to 
 my colleagues." This curious passage shows how inscrip- 
 tions may deceive if we trust them blindly. Would it not 
 seem that we should be right in concluding that in the year 
 of Rome 726, the republic had been re-established by the 
 generosity of Augustus ? Now it was exactly at this period 
 that the absolute power of the emperor was delivered from 
 all fear of attack from without and, being quietly accepted 
 by everybody, was finally established. Dio himself, the 
 official Dio, who is so ready to take the word of the em- 
 peror, cannot accept this falsehood of Augustus; he ventures 
 to show that he is not deceived, and has no difficulty in 
 proving that this government, under whatever name it is 
 disguised, was at bottom a monarchy ; he might have added 
 that there was never a more absolute monarchy. A single 
 man constituted himself the heir of all the magistrates of the 
 republic, and united all their powers in himself. He ignored 
 the people whom he no longer consulted j he is the master 
 
376 CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 of the senate, which he chooses and forms at will ; at once 
 consul and pontif, he regulates actions and beliefs ; invested 
 with the tribunitian power, he is inviolable and sacred, that 
 is to say, that the least word let fall against him becomes a 
 sacrilege ; as censor, under the title of praefect of morals, he 
 can control the conduct of private persons, and interfere, 
 when he likes, in the most private affairs of life.^ Every- 
 thing is subordinated to him, private as well as public life, 
 and his authority can penetrate everywhere from the senate 
 to the most humble and obscure hearths. Add to this 
 that the boundaries of his empire are those of the civilized 
 world; barbarism begins where slavery ends, and there is 
 not even the sad resource of exile against this despotism. 
 Yet it is the man who possesses this appalling power, whom 
 nothing in his immense empire escapes, and from whose 
 empire it is impossible to escape, it is he who has just told 
 us with a bare-faced assurance that he refused to accept 
 absolute power ! 
 
 It must be acknowledged that this absolute power, which 
 he veiled with so much precaution, sought also by every 
 possible means to reconcile men to itself. All the com- 
 pensations which might make a people forget its liberty 
 were given to the Romans by Augustus with a free hand. 
 I do not speak only of that material prosperity which made 
 the number of citizens increase by nearly a million in his 
 reign ; ^ nor even of the repose and security which, at the 
 
 ■" I have only summed up here a very curious chapter of Dio Cassius 
 (Hist. Rom. liii. 17). We see there clearly how the Roman constitu- 
 tion, in which the separation of powers was a guarantee for liberty, 
 became, by the sole fact of their concentration, a formidable engine of 
 despotism. 
 
 ^ The Ancyra inscription gives most precise information on the 
 subject of this increase. In 725 Augustus took the census for the first 
 time after an interruption of forty-one years : 4,063,000 citizens were 
 
OCTA VIUS 377 
 
 close of the civil war, was the most imperious need of the 
 whole world, but also of that incomparable splendour with 
 which he adorned Rome. This was a sure means of pleasing 
 the people. Caesar knew this well, and had expended one 
 hundred million sesterces (;^8oo,ooo) at one time, simply 
 in buying the ground on which his Forum was to stand. 
 Augustus did still more. The Ancyra inscription contains 
 a list of the public buildings he constructed, but it is so 
 long that it is impossible to quote it all. He mentions fifteen 
 temples, several porticoes, a theatre, a senate house, a Forum, 
 a basilica, aqueducts, public roads, etc. ; in truth Rome 
 was entirely reconstructed by him. We may say that no 
 public building was passed over by him, and that he restored 
 all those that he did not rebuild. He completed Pompey's 
 theatre and the Forum of Caesar, and rebuilt the Capitol j 
 in a single year he repaired eighty-two temples that were 
 falling into ruin. He did not expend so many millions 
 without a purpose, and all this profusion in such a careful 
 ruler covered a profound 'political design. He wished to 
 dazzle the people, to intoxicate them with luxury and 
 magnificence in order to divert them from the intrusive 
 memories of the past. That Rome of marble that he 
 
 counted in this return. Twenty-one years later, in 746, the numbers 
 returned amounted to 4,233,000. In 767, the year of Augustus' death, 
 there were 4,937,000. If, to the figures that Augustus gives, we add 
 the number of women and children who were not comprised in the 
 Roman census, we shall see that in the last twenty years of his reign 
 the increase had reached an average of very nearly 16 per cent. This 
 is exactly the figure to which the increase of population in France rose, 
 after the Revolution, from 1800 to 1825 ; that is, like political circum- 
 stances produced like results. It might be thought, indeed, that this 
 increase of population under Augustus was due to the introduction of 
 foreigners into the city. But we know, from Suetonius, that Augustus, 
 contrary to the example and principles of Caesar, was very chary of 
 the title of Roman citizen. 
 
378 CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 built was intended to make them forget the Rome of 
 brick. 
 
 This was not the only compensation that Augustus offered 
 to the people; he made them nobler amends, and thus 
 sought to legitirriatize his power. If he demanded the 
 sacrifice of their liberty he took care to gratify their national 
 pride in every way. No man compelled the respect of 
 foreign nations for Rome more than he ; no man gave her 
 more reason for pride in the ascendency she enjoyed among 
 her neighbours. The latter part of the inscription is filled 
 with the gratifying recital of the marks of respect that the 
 remotest countries of the world paid to Rome under his 
 reign. He was eager to direct their attention towards this 
 external glory, lest they should fix it with some regret on 
 what was taking place at home. Those citizens whom the 
 aspect of the deserted Forum and the obedient senate 
 depressed, he pointed to the Roman armies penetrating 
 among the Pannonians and the Arabs, to the Roman fleets 
 navigating the Rhine and the Danube, to the kings of the 
 Britons, the Suevi, and the Marcomanni, refugees at Rome, 
 imploring the support of the legions, to the Medes and 
 Parthians, those terrible enemies of Rome, who asked of 
 her a king, to the most distant nations, the least known and 
 the best protected by their distance and their obscurity, 
 moved by this great name that reaches them for the first 
 time and soliciting the Roman alliance. "Ambassadors 
 came to me from India, from kings who had never yet sent 
 to any Roman general. The Bastarnae, the Scythians, 
 and the Sarmatians who dwell on this side the Tanai's, 
 and beyond that river, the kings of the Albanians, the 
 Hiberi and the Medes sent ambassadors to me asking our 
 friendship." It was very difficult for the most discontented 
 to hold out against so much grandeur. But his greatest 
 
OCTAVIUS "" 379 
 
 master-stroke was that he extended this consideration for 
 the glory of Rome even to the past. He honoured all who 
 had laboured for her at all times, says Suetonius,^ almost as 
 much as the gods ; and to show that none was excluded 
 from this veneration, he raised again the statue of Pompey, 
 at the base of which Caesar had fallen, and set it up in a 
 public place. This generous conduct was also a wise policy. 
 By claiming a share in the glories of the past, he disarmed, 
 by anticipation, those men who might be tempted to use 
 them against him, and, at the same time, gave a species of 
 sanction to his] authority by attaching it in some sort to 
 these old memories. Whatever difference might distinguish 
 the government that he founded from that of the republic, 
 both agreed on one point : they sought the greatness of 
 Rome. Augustus tried to reconcile the past with the 
 present on this common ground. He also had adorned 
 Rome, defended her frontiers, extended her empire, and 
 made her name respected. He had continued and com- 
 pleted that work on which they had laboured for seven 
 centuries. He might, then, call himself the continuator 
 and heir of all those who had set their hand to it ; of Cato, 
 Paulus EmiUus, and Scipio, and rank himself among them. 
 He did not fail to do so when he built the Forum that bore 
 his name; we know from Suetonius that, under those 
 porticoes raised by him and filled with the records of his 
 actions, he ranged all the great men of the republic in 
 triumphal costume. This was the highest point of his 
 political skill, for by connecting them with his glory he 
 received in turn a share of theirs, and thus turned to his 
 own advantage the greatness of the political order which he 
 had overturned. 
 These compensations that Augustus ofiered to the Romans 
 1 Suet. Aug. 31. 
 
38o CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 in exchange for their liberty seem to have satisfied them. 
 Every one quickly got accustomed to the new government, 
 and it may be said that Augustus reigned without opposition. 
 The plots which more than once threatened his life were 
 the crimes of a few isolated malcontents, of young thought- 
 less fellows whom he had disgraced, or of vulgar and 
 ambitious men who desired his position ; they were not the 
 work of political parties. Can it even be said that there 
 were any political parties at this moment ? Those of Sextus 
 Pompey and Antony had not survived the death of their 
 chiefs ; and, since Philippi, there were scarcely any republi- 
 cans. From that moment all wise men adopted the maxim 
 " that the vast body of the empire could not stand upright 
 and stable without some one to direct it." A few obstinate 
 men alone, who were not yet converted, wrote violent 
 declamations in the schools under the name of Erutus and 
 Cicero, or allowed themselves to speak freely in those polite 
 gatherings which were the salons of that time : in conviviis 
 rodunf, in circulis vellicant. But those were unimportant 
 exceptions which disappeared in the midst of the universal 
 admiration and respect. During more than fifty years the 
 senate, the knights, and the people used all their ingenuity 
 to find new honours for him who had given Rome internal 
 peace, and who maintained her grandeur so vigorously 
 abroad. Augustus has been careful to recall all this 
 homage in the inscription we are studying, not in a fit 
 of puerile vanity, but to represent that agreement of all 
 orders in the state which seemed to legitimatize his 
 authority. This idea is shown especially in the last lines 
 of the inscription, where he recalls that circumstance of his 
 life which was most dear to him, because in it the agree- 
 ment of all citizens had most strikingly appeared : " While 
 I was consul for the thirteenth time, the senate, the order 
 
OCTAVIUS 381 
 
 of knights, and all the people gave me the name of Father 
 of our Country, and desired that this should be inscribed in 
 the vestibule of my house, in the curia, and in my Forum, 
 below the quadrigae which had been placed there in my 
 honour by a decree of the senate. When I wrote these 
 things I was in my seventy-sixth year." It was not without 
 reason that he reserved this detail for the end. This title 
 of Father of his Country, by which he was saluted in the 
 name of all the citizens by Messala, the old friend of Brutus, 
 seemed to be the legal consecration of a power acquired by 
 illegal means and a sort of amnesty that Rome accorded 
 to the past. We can well understand that Augustus, even 
 when dying, dwelt with satisfaction on a recollection which 
 seemed like an absolution, and that he was anxious to 
 terminate in this fashion his review of his political life. 
 
 ir. 
 
 I should like to give, in a few words, the impression that 
 the analysis of this remarkable inscription makes upon me 
 as to its author. 
 
 The whole political life of Augustus is contained in two 
 official documents which, by singular good fortune, have 
 both come down to us ; I mean the preamble of the edict 
 of proscription that Octavius signed, and, according to all 
 appearance, drew up himself, which Appian has preserved ; 
 and the inscription found on the walls of the temple of 
 Ancyra. The former shows us what Octavius was at 
 twenty, fresh from the hands of the rhetoricians and 
 philosophers, with all the genuine instincts of his nature ; the 
 latter, what he became after fifty-six years of uncontrolled 
 and unlimited power; it is sufficient to compare them in 
 order to discover the road he had traversed, and the changes 
 
383 CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 that the knowledge of men and the practice of public affairs 
 had wrought in him. 
 
 The possession of power had made him better, a thing 
 which is not usual, and after him Roman history only gives 
 us examples of princes depraved by power. From the 
 battle of Philippi to that of Actium, or rather to the moment 
 when he seems formally to ask pardon of the world by 
 abolishing all the acts of the triumvirate, we feel that he is 
 striving to become better, and we can almost follow the 
 steps of his progress. I do not think that we could find 
 another example of so strong an effort at self-conquest, and 
 so complete a success in overcoming one's natural dispo- 
 sition. He was naturally a coward, and hid himself in his 
 tent in his first battle. I know not how he did it, but he 
 succeeded in acquiring courage ; he became inured to war 
 in fighting against Sextus Pompey, and even courageous in 
 the expedition against the Dalmatians^ in which he was 
 twice wounded. He was cynical and debauched, and the 
 orgies of his youth, as related by Suetonius, do not yield to 
 Antony's ; yet he corrected himself at the very moment 
 that he became absolute master, that is just when his 
 passions would have met with the fewest obstacles. He 
 was naturally cruel, and coldly cruel, a disposition which 
 does not often change; and yet, after having begun by 
 assassinating his benefactors, he ended by sparing those 
 who attempted his assassination, and the philosopher Seneca 
 could call the same man a clement prince ^ whom his best 
 friend, Maecenas, had once called a common executioner. 
 Certainly the man who signed the edict of proscription hardly 
 seems to be the same as the man who wrote the testament, 
 and it is indeed matter for wonder that a man who began 
 
 ■' De Clem, g ; Divus Augttstus initis fuit princeps. It is true that 
 elsewhere he calls his clemency a wearicd-out cruelty. 
 
OCTA VJUS 383 
 
 as he did was able to change so completely, and to assume 
 a virtuous character, or the appearance of one, in the place 
 of all the vices that were natural to him. 
 
 Nevertheless we should find it difficult to love him, 
 whatever justice we are bound to do him. We may be 
 wrong after all; for reason tells us that we ought to 
 appreciate people more for the qualities they acquire by 
 thus triumphing over themselves than for those they have 
 by nature, without taking any trouble. And yet, I hardly 
 know why, it is only the latter that please us ; the former 
 lack a certain charm that nature alone gives and which 
 wins our hearts. The effort is too apparent in them, and 
 behind the effort some personal interest ; for we always 
 suspect that a man has taken so much pains only because 
 there was some advantage to be gained. This sort of 
 acquired goodness, in which reason has a greater share than 
 nature, attracts no one, because it appears to be the product 
 of a calculating mind, and it is this feeling that causes all 
 the virtues of Augustus to leave us unmoved, and to seem 
 at the most but the results of a profound sagacity. They 
 want a touch of nature and simplicity in order to affect us. 
 These are qualities that this stiff and formal personage never 
 knew, although according to Suetonius he gladly assumed 
 an appearance of plain manners and good-nature in his 
 familiar intercourse. But one is not a good fellow simply 
 through wishing to^be it, and his private letters, of which 
 we have a few fragments, show that his pleasantries lacked 
 ease, and that his simplicity was the result of effort. Do 
 we not know, besides, from Suetonius himself, that he wrote 
 down what he meant to say to his friends, in order to leave 
 nothing to chance, and that he even occasionally wrote 
 down his conversations with Livia beforehand ? ^ 
 1 Suet. Aug. 84. 
 
384 CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 But, after all, that which spoils Augustus in our opinion 
 is that he stands so near Caesar; the contrast between 
 them is complete. Caesar, not to speak of what was really 
 great and brilliant in his nature, attracts us at once by his 
 frankness. His ambition may displease us, but he had at 
 least the merit of not hiding it. I do not know why M. 
 Mommsen exerts himself in his Roman History to prove 
 that Caesar did not care for the diadem, and that Antony, 
 when he offered it, had not consulted him. I prefer to 
 hold to the common opinion which, I think, does not do 
 him wrong. He wished to be king, and to bear the title 
 as well as to exercise the power. He never made pretence 
 of waiting to be asked to accept honours that he passion- 
 ately desired, as Augustus did. He was not the man to 
 make us believe that he only retained the supreme authority 
 with reluctance, and would not have dared to tell us, at 
 the very moment that he was drawing all powers into his 
 hands, that he had restored the governpient of the republic 
 to the people and senate. We know, on the contrary, that 
 after Pharsalia he said frankly that " the republic " was a 
 phrase without meaning, and that Sulla was a fool to have 
 abdicated the dictatorship. In everything, even in questions 
 of literature and grammar, he was a bold innovator, and 
 he did not display a hypocritical respect for the past at the 
 very time that he was destroying what had come down 
 from it. This frankness is more to our taste than the false 
 appearance of veneration that Augustus lavished on the 
 senate after reducing it to impotence ; and whatever admira- 
 tion Suetonius may express for him, when he shows him to 
 us, obsequiously saluting each senator by name, before the 
 sittings commenced, I am not sure that I do not prefer 
 the disrespectful behaviour of Caesar to this comedy, Caesar 
 who at last went so far as not to rise when the senate 
 
OCTA VIUS 385 
 
 visited him. Both appeared weary of power, but it never 
 came into any one's mind to think that Augustus was speak- 
 ing the truth when he asked so earnestly to be restored to 
 private life. The distaste of Caesar was deeper and more 
 sincere. That sovereign power, that he had sought after 
 for more than twenty years with an indefatigable persistence, 
 through so many perils, and by means of dark intrigues 
 the remembrance of which must have made him blush, did 
 not answer to his expectations, and appeared unsatisfying 
 to him though he had so eagerly desired it. He knew that 
 he was detested by the men whose esteem he most desired ; 
 he was constrained to make use of men whom he despised, 
 and whose excesses dishonoured his victory; the higher 
 he rose, the more unpleasing did human nature appear to 
 him, and the more clearly did he see the base greed and 
 cowardly treachery of those who intrigued at his feet. He 
 came at last, through disgust, to have no interest in life ; it 
 seemed to him to be no longer worth the trouble of pre- 
 serving and defending. It is, therefore, the same man who 
 said, even at the period when Cicero delivered the pro 
 Marcello: "I have lived long enough for nature or for 
 glory ; " who later, when he was pressed to take precautions 
 against his assassins, answered in a tone of despondency : 
 " I would rather die at once than live in fear ; " who might 
 well have said with Corneille : 
 
 " I desired the empire and I have attained to it ; 
 But I knew not what it was that I desired : 
 In its possession I have found, instead of delights, 
 Appalling cares, continual alarms, 
 A thousand secret enemies, death at every turn, 
 No pleasure without alloy, and never repose." 
 
 These fine lines please me less, I admit, put into the moulh 
 of Augustus. This cautious politician, so cold, so self- 
 
 cc 
 
386 CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 possessed, does not seem to me to have really known that 
 noble sadness that reveals the man in the hero, that 
 melancholy of a heart ill at ease, notwithstanding its 
 successes, and disgusted with power through the very 
 exercise of power. Whatever admiration I may feel for 
 that fine scene in which Augustus proposes to abdicate the 
 empire, I cannot avoid being a little vexed with Corneille 
 that he took so seriously and depicted so gravely that 
 solemn piece of acting which deceived nobody in Rome, 
 and when I wish to render my pleasure complete in reading 
 the tragedy of Cinna, I ana always tempted to replace the 
 character of Augustus by that of Caesar. 
 
 I add, in conclusion, that all these insincere affectations 
 of Augustus were not only defects of character, but also 
 political errors which left most unfortunate effects on the 
 government that he had created. It was precisely the un- 
 certainty that the interested falsehoods of Augustus had 
 thrown upon the real nature and limits of the power of the 
 earlier Caesars that rendered their tyranny insupportable. 
 When a government boldly states its principles we know 
 how to behave towards it ; but what course is to be followed, 
 what language held when the forms of liberty are united with 
 the reality of despotism, when absolute power hides under 
 republican fictions ? In the midst of this obscurity every 
 course has danger and threatens ruin. Men are ruined by 
 independence, they may also be ruined by servility ; for, if 
 he who refuses anything to the emperor is an open enemy 
 who regrets the republic, may not he who eagerly grants 
 everything be a secret enemy, who wishes to show that the 
 republic no longer exists? In studying Tacitus we find 
 the statesmen of this terrible period moving at random 
 among these wilfully accumulated uncertainties, stumbling 
 at every step over unseen dangers, liable to displease if 
 
OCTA VIUS 387 
 
 they are silent or if they speak, if they flatter or if they 
 resist, continually asking themselves with dread how they 
 can satisfy this ambiguous and ill-defined authority whose 
 limits escape them. This want of sincerity in the institu- 
 tions of Augustus may be said to have been the torment of 
 several generations. All the evil came because Augustus 
 thought more of the present than of the future. He was 
 an able man, full of resources in escaping from embarrass- 
 ing and difficult situations; he was not in reality a great 
 politician, for it seems that his view seldom extended 
 beyond the difficulties of the moment. Placed face to 
 face with a people who bore the kingship uneasily, and who 
 were not fit for anything else, he invented this sort of 
 disguised kingship, and allowed all the forms of the old 
 government to exist by its side without endeavouring to 
 conform them to it. But if he was not so great a politician 
 as it has been pretended, it must be admitted that he was 
 an excellent administrator ; that part of his work deserves 
 all the praise that has been lavished on it. By co-ordinating 
 all the wise observances and useful regulations that the 
 republic had created, by putting in force lost traditions, 
 by himself creating new institutions for the administration 
 of Rome, the service of the legions, the handling of the 
 finances and the government of the provinces, he organ- 
 ized the empire and thus rendered it capable of resisting 
 external enemies and internal causes of dissolution. If, 
 notwithstanding a detestable political system, the general 
 lowering of character, and the vices of the governors and 
 the governed, the empire still had a time of prosperity and 
 lasted three centuries, it owed it to the powerful organization 
 it had received from Augustus. This was the really vital 
 part of his work. It is important enough to justify the 
 testimony that he bears to himself in that haughty phrase 
 
CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 of the Ancyran inscription : " I made new laws. I restored 
 to honour the examples of our forefathers which were dis- 
 appearing from our manners, and I have myself left 
 examples worthy of being imitated by our descendants." 
 
 III. 
 
 It was no doubt about the middle of the reign, when he 
 who was the absolute master of the republic was pretending 
 to restore the government to the people and senate, that 
 Cicero's letters appeared. The exact date of their publica- 
 tion is unknown ; but everything tends to the belief that it 
 should be placed in the years that followed the battle of 
 Actium. The power of Augustus, become more popular 
 since it had become more moderate, felt itself strong enough 
 to allow some liberty of writing. It was mistrustful before 
 that time because it was not sufficiently consolidated ; it 
 became so again later when it perceived that public favour 
 was passing from it. This reign, which began by proscribing 
 men, ended by burning books. Cicero's correspondence 
 could only have been published in the interval that separates 
 these periods. 
 
 No one has told us what impression it produced on those 
 who read it for the first time; but it may be fearlessly 
 asserted that it was a very lively impression. The civil 
 wars had only just ended, up till that time men were only 
 occupied with present ills ; in those misfortunes no man's 
 mind was sufficiently free to think of the past, but in the 
 first period of tranquillity which that troubled generation 
 knew, it hastened to throw a glance backward. Whether 
 it sought to account for the events that had happened or 
 wished to enjoy that bitter pleasure which is found, accord- 
 
OCTA VIUS 389 
 
 ing to the poet, in the recollections of former sufferings, it 
 retraced the sad years it had just traversed, and wished to 
 go back to the very beginning of that struggle whose end it 
 had seen. Nothing could satisfy their curiosity better than 
 Cicero's letters, and it cannot therefore be doubtful that 
 everybody at that time eagerly read them. 
 
 I do not think that this reading did any harm to the 
 government of Augustus. Perhaps the reputation of some 
 important personages of the new government suffered a little 
 from it. To have their republican professions of faith dis- 
 interred was unpleasant for men who boasted of being the 
 private friends of the prince. I suppose that the malicious 
 must have diverted themselves with those letters in which 
 Pollio swears to be the eternal enemy of tyrants and in 
 which Plancus harshly attributes the misfortunes of the 
 republic to the treason of Octavius, who himself was not 
 to be spared ; and these lively recollections of a time when 
 he held out his hand to Caesar's assassins and called Cicero 
 his father, were not favourable to him. All this provided 
 subjects of conversation for the malcontents during several 
 weeks. But upon the whole, the mischief was small, and 
 these railleries did not endanger the security of the great 
 empire. What was most to be feared for it was that 
 imagination, always favourable to the past, should freely 
 attribute to the republic those qualities with which it is so 
 easy to adorn institutions that no longer exist. Now, 
 Cicero's letters were much more suited to destroy these 
 illusions than to encourage them. The picture they present 
 of the intrigues, the disorders, and the scandals of that time 
 did not permit men to regret it. The men whom Tacitus 
 depicts to us as worn out with struggles and eager for repose, 
 found in it nothing that could attract them, and the bad use 
 that men like Curio, Caelius, and Dolabella had made of 
 
390 CICERO AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 liberty, rendered them less sensitive to the sorrow of having 
 lost it. 
 
 The memory of him who wrote these letters gained most 
 by their publication. It was very common at that time to 
 speak ill of Cicero. Notwithstanding the manner in which 
 the court historians narrated the meeting at Bologna and 
 the honourable part they attempted to give Octavius in the 
 proscriptions,! they were none the less unpleasant recollec- 
 tions for him. His victims were calumniated in order to 
 diminish his faults. This is what Asinius PoUio wished to 
 do, when he said, in his speech for Lamia, that Cicero died 
 like a coward.^ Those whose devotedness did not go so 
 far, and who had not enough courage to insult him, took 
 care at least to say nothing of him. It has been remarked 
 that none of the great poets of this time speak of him, and 
 we know from Plutarch that at the Palatine it was necessary 
 to read his works in secret. Silence therefore fell, as far 
 as it was indeed possible, around Cicero's great glory ; but 
 the publication of his letters recalled him to the memory 
 of everybody. When once they had been read, this intel- 
 lectual and gentle figure, so amiable, so human and so 
 attractive even in its weaknesses, could not again be 
 forgotten. 
 
 To the interest that the personality of Cicero gives to his 
 letters, a still more vivid interest is added for us. We have 
 seen, in what I have just written, how much our time re- 
 sembles that of which these letters speak to us. It had no 
 solid faith any more than our own, and its sad experiences 
 of revolutions had disgusted it with everything while inuring 
 it to everything. The men of that time knew, just as we do, 
 that discontent with the present and that uncertainty of 
 the morrow which do not allow us to enjoy tranquillity or 
 ' See especially Velleius Pat. ii. 66. ^ Sen. Siias, 6. 
 
OCTA VIUS 391 
 
 repose. In them we see ourselves ; the sorro^KS of the men 
 of those times are partly our own, and we have suffered the 
 same ills of which they complained. We, like them, live in 
 one of those transitional periods, the most mournful of 
 history, in which the traditions of the past have disappeared 
 and the future is not yet clearly defined, and know not on 
 what to set our affections, and we can well understand that 
 they might have said with the ancient Hesiod : " Would 
 that I had died sooner or been born later ! " This is what 
 gives Cicero's letters so lively though mournful an interest 
 for us ; this is what first attracted me towards them ; this 
 is what, perhaps, will give us some pleasure in spending 
 a short time in the society of the persons they depict, 
 who, in spite of the lapse of years, seem almost to be our 
 contemporaries. 
 
INDEX 
 
 Abeken, 23 
 
 Acidinus, loj 
 
 Actium, 302, 367, 382 
 
 Aegean, 350 
 
 Aegina, 102 
 
 Aesopus, son of, loi 
 
 Africa, 65, 75, i6o, 200, 270, 286, 
 297, 318 
 
 Agendicum, 255 
 
 Agrippa, 106 
 
 Alba, 117, 226 
 
 Alesia, 186, 252, 255 
 
 Alexander, 228 
 
 Alexandria, 118 
 
 Alp, 76, 252, j^!?. 
 
 Ambrose, Saint, 103 
 
 America, 231 
 
 Amphiaraus, 71, '90 
 
 Ampius, T., 267 
 
 Ancyra, 362 and note, 369, 381 
 
 Angora, 362 
 
 Antium, 12, 346, 347 
 
 Antonius, orator, 42 
 
 Antony, 13, 20, 45, 70, 72 jc^;., 
 76, 81, 100, 104, 105, 158, 177, 
 197, 266, 276, 306, 331, 333, 
 335. 336. 339. 340. 345, 347. 
 350, 353, 356. 357, 360, 365. 
 370. 380 
 
 ApoUonia, 362 
 
 Appian, 325, 342, 345, 381 
 
 Appius Claudius, 89, 285, 305, 314 
 
 Apuleius, 169, 350 
 
 Apulia, 186, 206 
 
 Arabia, 368 
 
 Arcae, 239 
 
 Archimedes, 287 
 Argiletum, 86 
 Ariobarzanes, 120, 314 
 Ariovistus, 252, 253, 255, 344 
 Aristophanes, 28 
 Aristotle, 108, 307 
 Arpinum, 4, 12, 61, 131, 216, 239 
 Arrius, 12 
 
 Asia, 49, 75, 85, IIS, 120, 129, 
 230, 238, 267, 294, 297, 318, 
 
 319, 350 
 
 Atella, 120 
 
 Athens, lOJ, I07, IIO, 126, 127, 
 133. 139, 296, 304, 305, 326, 
 349, 350 
 
 Atticus, 4, 10, 12, 13, 26, S3, 79, 
 85 seq., 89 note, 92, 9S, 96, 98, 
 loi, 106, lo8. III, 113; his 
 correspondence with Cicero, 123 ; 
 sources of his wealth, 127 seq. ; 
 attacks Sicyon, 130; returns to 
 Rome, 132 ; his character, 134 
 seq, ; his services to Cicero, 141 
 seq. ; his conduct in public 
 affairs, 147 seq. ; his hatred of 
 Caesar, 152 ; 194, 218 seq., 224, 
 236, 262, 30s, 310, 314, 317, 
 323, 332, 355, 360 
 
 Augustus. See Octavius 
 
 Aulus Gellius, no, 112 
 
 Avenline, 86 
 
 Axius, 87, 227 note 
 
 Baiae, 168, 172, 175, 208 
 Balbus, 135, 141, 188, 19s, 222, 
 234, 247, 261 
 
 393 
 
394 
 
 INDEX 
 
 Basilus, 192 
 
 Bibulus, 70, 105, ISS, 221, 333 
 
 Blasius, 323 
 
 Bologna, 356, 365, 390 
 
 Bossuet, 147, 279 
 
 Britain, 65, 232, 234, 240, 24S, 
 249, 250 and note, 251 
 
 Brittany, 15 
 
 Brundusium, 73, 94, 97i 152, 187 
 seq., 210, 257, 258, 260, 304, 319 
 
 Bruttius, 106 
 
 Brutus, 21, 22, 58, 70 seq., 75, 77, 
 88, 102, 107, 136, 140, 151, 152, 
 154 seq., 158, 159, 176, 192, 
 243, 266, 287, 293 ; his family, 
 305 ; his character, 307 ; his 
 statue, 309 note ; his oratory, 
 310; his usury, 312 seq. ; joins 
 Pompey at Pharsalia, 317 ; sub- 
 mits to Caesar, 318 ; close inti- 
 macy with Cicero, 320 ; his 
 treatise On Virtue, 324 ; Gov- 
 ernor of Cisalpine Gaul, 326 ; 
 becomes head of conspiracy 
 against Caesar, 338 ; his conduct 
 after Caesar's death, 340 seq. ; 
 retires to Greece, 348 seq. ; 
 disagreement with Cicero, 350 ; 
 359. 360 
 
 Brutus, Decimus, 74, 7S, 176, 19^ 
 
 243. 323 
 Bussy, 17 
 
 Caecilia Metella, lOI 
 
 Caecilius, 87, 130 
 
 Caecina, 267, 268 
 
 Caelius, 3, 4, 100 ; his family and 
 education, i6o seq. ; his relations 
 with Clodia, l56 seq. ; orator 
 and statesman, 177 seq. ; joins 
 Caesar, 187 ; goes to Spain, 190 ; 
 praetor, 197 ; opposes Trebo- 
 nius, 203 seq. ; leaves Rome, 
 205 ; his death, 206 ; 264, 306, 
 
 359. 389 
 Caerellia, 90, 91 
 y Caesar, 4, 14, 21, 22, 33, 36, 40, 
 49 seq. ; 59, 61, 63, 68, 69, 71, 
 80, 85, 87, 102, 119, 127, 135, 
 
 151. 152, 154, 165, 171. 179. 
 183, 185 seq., 191 seq. Cicero 
 
 his political ally during the 
 Gallic war, his friend after Phar- 
 salia, 209 ; contrasted with 
 Pompey, 225 seq.; sets out for 
 Gaul, 229 ; his army, 242 seq. ; 
 his victories, 252 ; resumes in- 
 tercourse with Cicero, 260 ; his 
 clemency, 263 ; his cruelty, 265 ; 
 writes the Anti- Cato, 288 ; 304 
 seq., 308 seq., 321, 324, 326 
 m-y 17,7) seq., Z^seq., 379, 384, 
 
 385 
 Calatia, 74 
 Calidius, 187 
 Calvus, Licinius, 170, 171, 174, 
 
 208 
 Camillus, 283 
 Campania, 25, 206, 34S 
 Campus Martins, 13, 25, 40, 155. 
 
 162, 213, 214, 255, 282 
 Capreae, 172 
 Carinae, 86, 251 
 Carthage, 64, 286 
 Casilinum, 74 
 Cassius, 75, 89, 293, 305, 306, 318, 
 
 323. 325. 330. 336 seq., 347, 
 
 350, 355 
 Catienus, 238 
 Catiline, 33, 46, 49 seq., 68, 72, 
 
 180, 199, 218, 229, 304, 311 
 Cato (Uticensis), 17, 20, 21, 40, 
 
 58, 61, 68, 70, 88, 13s, 159. 
 
 164, 189, 210, 216, 252, 263, 
 
 276 seq., 291, 304, 30s, 311, 
 
 315. 317. 326, 333 
 
 Cato, the elder, 33, 113, 149, 379 
 
 Cato, the younger, 323 
 
 Catullus, \(& seq., 174, 208, 23S 
 
 Cherea, 8 
 
 Chrysogonus, 38 
 
 Cicero, his letters, i seq. ; letters 
 and speeches compared, 8 j com- 
 pared with Saint-Simon, 9 ; 
 with Mme. de Sevign^, 14 seq. ; 
 his inconsistency, 1 7 ; his politi- 
 cal opinions, 24 seq. ; defence of 
 Roscius, 37 seq. ; success of his 
 candidatures, 40 ; his eloquence, 
 \ 42 seq. ; tries to form a new 
 political party, 47 ; his irreso- 
 lution, 56 ; his opinion of the 
 
INDEX 
 
 395 
 
 people, 60 ; sets out for Greece, 
 A 70 ; tries to form coalition, 73 ; 
 his death, 77 ; sources of his 
 wealth, 80 seq. ; pro-consul of 
 Cilicia, 82 ; exiled 93 ; returns 
 to Italy, 94 ; divorces Terentia, 
 95 ; marries and divorces Pub- 
 lilia, 99 ; his children, loo seq. ; 
 y his slaves, 108 seq. ; his clients, 
 113 seq. ; defends Rabirius Pos- 
 ^ tumus, 119; his hosts, 120; his 
 correspondence with Atticus, 
 ■< 123 ; reconciled to Hortensius, 
 ^ 136; teacher of Caelius, 160, 
 161 ; his opinion of Clodia, 162; 
 ^ defends Caelius, 17S ! joins 
 ^ Pompey in Greece, 190 ; Caesar's 
 political ally during the Gallic 
 war, his friend after Pharsalia, 
 209 ; his return from exile, 210 ; 
 t supports the triumvirs, 219 ; be- 
 - comes Caesar's agent, 222 ; his 
 letter to Lentulus, 223 ; sends 
 Trebatius and Quintus to Caesar, 
 231 ; demands honours for 
 Caesar, 252 ; joins Pompey at 
 Pharsalia, returns to Brundu- 
 sium, 257, 258 ; to Tusculum, 
 259 ; to Rome, 260 ; is recon- 
 > died to Caesar, 260 ; Pro Mar- 
 cello, 271 seq. ; Apology forCato, 
 V 287 ; his friendship with Brutus, 
 308 ; proconsul of Cilicia, 312 ; 
 his philosophical works, 321 
 seq. ; joins Brutus at Velia, 348 ; 
 returns to Rome, 349 ; disagrees 
 '^ with Brutus, 350 seq.; publica- 
 tion of his letters, 388 
 Cicero, Marcus, 104^^^., no, III 
 Cicero, Quintus, 91, no, in, 
 114, 215, 218, 221, 231, 235 
 seq., 246, 251 
 Cilicia, 82, 97, 100, III, 117, 159, 
 17s, 182, 277, 30s, 306, 312, 
 
 313. 317 
 Clodia, 92, 13s, \6zseq., 180 
 Clodius, 13, 24, 33, 68, 72, 85, 
 
 92, 13s, 162, 168, i8o, 199, 
 
 201, 210 seq., 229, 304 
 Cluvius, 85, 312 
 Colbert, 9 
 
 Como, 269 
 
 Considius, 87 
 
 Constantinople, 213 
 
 Cordova, 323 
 
 Corfinium, 185 note, 186, 1S7 
 
 Corinth, 102 
 
 Corneille, 30, 385, 386 
 
 Cornelius Nepos, 134, 136, 158 
 
 Cornificius, 75, 170, 297 
 
 Coulanges, Mme. de, 16 
 
 Crassipes, 100 
 
 Crassus, 49, 51, 80, 83, 218, 219, 
 
 222, 243, 246, 336, 371 
 Crastinus, 192 
 Cratippus, 106, 349 
 Cremutius Cordus, 2 
 Curio, 4, 20, S3, 62, 100, 127, 
 
 179, 187, 19s, 197, 20S, 264, 
 
 276, 306, 359, 389 
 Ciirius, III, 119 
 Cydnus, 330, 337 
 Cyprus, 289, 304, 314. 316 
 Cyrus, 85 
 Cytheris, 261 
 
 Dante, 303 
 
 Danube, 378 
 
 Deiotarus, 120 
 
 Delas, 129 
 
 Descartes, 104 
 
 Dio Cassius, 90, 241, 253, 265, 
 
 307. 356, 368, 375 
 Diodotus, 85 
 Dionysius, loj 
 
 Dionysius, slave of Cicero, 108 
 Dolabella, 20, 100 seq., 109, 179, 
 
 187, 19s. 197. 208, 261, 306, 
 
 331. 340, 345. 389 
 Domitius, 186, 187 
 Drumann, 23 
 Drusus, 100 
 Dumnorix, 233 
 Dyrrhachium, 192, 242, 257, 286 
 
 Egypt, 118, 222, 318 
 
 England, i 
 
 Ephesus, 129 
 
 Epicrates, 106 
 
 Epirus, 129, 130, 131, 345 
 
 Eros, 79, 88, 109 
 
 Ethiopia, 368 
 
396 INDEX 
 
 
 Eutrapelus, 261 
 
 168; Upper, 183; 187,189, 
 
 193. 
 
 
 198, 205, 206, 212, 253, 
 
 254. 
 
 Fabius, 33 
 
 258, 266, 268, 296, 317, 
 
 345 
 
 Fabius Gallus, 287 
 
 ^f?-> 355. 371 
 
 
 Fabius Maximus, 243 
 
 
 
 Favonius, 327, 347 
 
 Juba, 323 
 
 
 Fayette, Mme. de la, 16 
 
 
 
 Fibrenus, 131 
 
 Knights, the, 47 seq., 119, 
 
 121, 
 
 Formiae,\, II, 53,77, 193, 217 
 
 135, 142, 144, 151, 160, 
 
 247. 
 
 Forum, 2, 4, 5, 8, 13, 25, 30, 39, 
 
 252, 284, 312. 313. 380 
 
 
 44,55.61,75.80, 112,114, 140, 
 
 
 
 149. 155, 160 seq., 175, 177, 
 
 Labeo, 307, 323 
 
 
 193, 201, 204, 208, 212 seq.. 
 
 Laberius, 234 
 
 
 225, 250, 25s, 319, 333, 344, 
 
 Labienus, 243, 276 
 
 
 359, 373. 378 
 
 Lacedaemon, 316 
 
 
 France, i, 232 
 
 Laelius, C. (Sapiens), 33 
 
 
 Fronto, 248 
 
 Laelius, 266 
 
 
 Fulvia, 151 
 
 Lanuvium, 346, 348 
 
 
 Furfanius, 297 
 
 Laterensis, 323 
 Latium, 25 
 
 
 Gabinius, 1 17, II9, 222 
 
 Lentulus, 117, 223, 311, 371 
 
 
 Gaeta, 77 
 
 I,entulus Sphinther, loi 
 
 
 Galatia, ^,(12 
 
 Leonidas, 106 
 
 
 Gmd, 65, no, 115, 185 note, 194, 
 
 Lepidus, 75, 305, 306, 323, 
 
 344, 
 
 213, 219, 228, 229, 231 seq.. 
 
 346, 354. 356. 367 
 
 
 23s. 239, 242, 246, 247, 250 
 
 Lepta, 95, 231 
 
 
 seq., 296 
 
 Lesbia, 169 seq. 
 
 
 Gaul, Cisalpine, 45, 74, 185 note. 
 
 Licinius Calvus. See Calvus 
 
 
 19s. 293. 316, 326 
 
 Licinius, 238 
 
 
 Gergovia, 186 
 
 Liris, 26 
 
 
 Germany, 1, 23, 65, 245, 250, 252 
 
 Livry, 15 
 
 
 Gorgias, 105, io6 
 
 Livy, I, 2, 77, 82, 164, 235, 312 
 
 Gmcchi, 32, 48, 59, 61, 164 note, 
 \%Z, 198, 245 
 
 Louis XIV., 245, 364 
 
 
 Louvois, 9, 16 
 
 
 Gracchus, Caius, 199 
 
 Lucan, 52, 68, 303 
 
 
 Greece, 32, 70, 73, 77, 102, 120, 
 
 Lucca, 195 
 
 
 126, 127, 129, 13s, 142, 149 
 
 Liicceius, 102 
 
 
 seq,, 189, 200, 267, 270, 293, 
 
 Luceria, 188 
 
 
 296, 297, 320, 348, 350 
 
 Lucilius, 33 
 
 
 Guy-Patin, 52 
 
 Lucretius, 115, 168, 235, 322 
 Lucullus, 85, 230 
 
 
 Helvius Cinna, 170 
 
 
 
 Hermogenes, 87 
 
 Macedonia, 73, 129, 177, 349, 
 
 35° 
 
 Hesiod, 391 
 
 Maecenas, 369, 372, 382 
 
 
 Hirtius, 73, 99, 246, 288, 354, 365 
 
 Marcellus, 269 seq., 285, 296, 
 
 299. 
 
 Horace, 168, 350 
 
 324, 326, 374 
 
 
 Hortensius, 83, 89, 104, 136, 210, 
 
 Marcus. See Cicero, Marcus 
 
 
 290 
 
 Mariba, 368 
 
 
 
 Marius, 37, 49, 65, 124, 246, 
 
 254, 
 
 Illyria, 108 
 
 291, 294, 328 
 
 
 Italy, 4, 64, 70, 75, 94, 120, 129, 
 
 Marseilles, 193, 206, 246 
 
 
INDEX 
 
 397 
 
 Matius, igi note, 246, 251 
 
 Megara, I02 
 
 Memmius Gemellus, 115 
 
 Messala, 105, 359, 381 
 
 Metellus, 164 note 
 
 Michael Angelo, 309 note 
 
 Milan, 316 
 
 Milo, 80, 89 note, 97, 206 
 
 Mithridates, 127, 230 
 
 Mitylene, 269, 324 
 
 Modena, 75, 76, 350, 360 
 
 Moliire, 280 
 
 Mommsen, i note, 23, 31, 45, 
 
 213, 228, 287, 384 
 Montaigne, 33 
 Mummius, 246 
 Munatius, 289 
 Munda, 202, 265, 302, 330 
 
 Nalata, 368 
 Naples, 162, 172, 206 
 Napoleon, 228 
 Narbonne, 330 
 New Orleans, 213 
 Nicole, 16 
 
 Nigidius Figulus, 267, 268 
 Ninnius, 153 
 
 Octavius, 74. 76, 77. 106, 139, 
 158, 164 note, 165, 173, 264, 
 301, 302, 308, 316, 329, 345, 
 353. 354. 356. 357.; his cotre- 
 
 > spondence with Cicero, 359 ; 
 
 y Cicero's opinion of him, 360 ; 
 Ancyran Inscription, 361 seq. ; 
 propraetor, triumvir, 365; his 
 war with Sextus Pompey, 367 ; 
 his victories, 367, 368 ; his re- 
 lations with his soldiers, 369 
 seq. ; with the people, 372, 373 ; 
 with the senate, 373 seq. ; popu- 
 lation of Rome, 376 note ; his 
 policy in rebuilding Rome, 377 ; 
 political greatness of Rome, 378 
 seq. ; " Father of his Country," 
 381 ; change in his character, 
 381 seq. ; effects of his policy, 
 386, 387 ; publication of Cicero's 
 
 * letters, 388 seq. 
 Oppius, 188, 19s, 222 
 Ovid, 169, 171, 174 
 
 Palatine, 37, 86, 162, i6g, 215, 
 217, 251, 374. 390 
 
 Pannonia, 370 
 
 Pansa, 73, 350, 365 
 
 Paphos, 120 
 
 Papirius Paetus, 13, 83 
 
 Paris, 15, 213 
 
 Pascal, 138, 229 
 
 Pair as, iig 
 
 Patroclus, 287 
 
 Paula Valeria, 176 
 
 Paulus Emilius, 379 
 
 Petreius, 323 
 
 Pharsalia, 51, 69, 85, 94, 97, 149, 
 154. 189, 192, 202, 207, 209, 257, 
 259, 261, zddseq., 272, 275, 277, 
 285, 291 seq., 299, 302, 306, 318, 
 319, 321, 325, iriseq., 337, 3S0, 
 
 359. 374. 384 
 Philip (tribune), 80 
 Philippi, 136, 207, 307, 316, 323, 
 
 371. 374. 380, 382 
 Philotimus, 97 
 Picenum, 213 
 Pilois, 15 
 Pinarius, 244 
 Piraeus, 102 
 Piso, 100, 220 
 
 Plancus, 75, 243, 246, 3S4. 359. 389 
 Plato, 26, 27, 31, 223, 321 
 Plautus, 90, 162, 174 
 Pliny, 113, 141 
 Plutarch, 77, 91, 193, 241, 289, 
 
 290, 316, 326, 331, 334, 337, 
 
 349. 357. 390 
 
 Polybius, 31, 32s 
 
 Pompeii, 153 
 
 Pompey, 14, 21, 40, 49, 51, 56, 57, 
 70, 81, 82, 87, no, 117, 135, 
 143,152, 182,185^^17., 197,210, 
 21^ seq., 256, 258, 263, 285, 312, 
 317, 318, 327, 335 
 
 Pompey, Sextus, 74, 330, 367, 370, 
 380, 382 
 
 Pomponia, 91, 236^^17. 
 
 Porcia, 333, 347 
 
 Postumia, 295, 296 
 
 Propertius, 171, 235 
 
 Ptolemy Auletes, 117, 222 
 
 Publilia, 99, 143 
 ' Puteoli, 85, 118, 1 60, 162, 313 
 
398 
 
 INDEX 
 
 Qiiintilian, 177, 205 note, 207 
 Quintilius Varus, 170, 323 
 Quintus. See Cicero, Quintus 
 Quirinal, 134, 140, 149 
 
 Rabirius Postumus, 116 seq., 312 
 
 Ravenna, 186, 187 
 
 Reate, 61 
 
 Rennes, 15 
 
 Rhegium, 70 
 
 Rhine, 250, 251,254, 367, 378 
 
 Rhone, 254 
 
 Rochefoucauld, La, 16 
 
 RoIIin, 271 
 
 Rome, 2seq., 12, 14, 24, 31, 37, 
 
 ■ 48, SI. 53 •f«?-. 59. 62, 64 j^?., 
 70, 72, 74, seq., ?>oseq., 89 note, 
 91, 112, iiSseq., 124, 125, 127, 
 lyiseq., i^oseq., i62seq., 186, 
 ig$seq., 2ioseq., 218, 226, 262 
 seq., 2&0seq., 2gy seq., y^seq., 
 312 scq., 320, 325, 326, 335, 341, 
 344, 349 seq., 361 
 
 Roscius, 38, 52 
 
 Rousseau, 282 
 
 Rubicon, 151, 186, 188, 256 
 
 Rullus, 43 
 
 Rutilius, 294 
 
 Sabine country, the, 25 
 
 Saint-Simon, 4, 9, 309 
 
 Salamis, 314 
 
 Sallust, 50 
 
 Satuminus, 294 
 
 Scaeva, 192 
 
 Scaevola, family of, 294 je^. 
 
 Scaptius, 314, 315 
 
 Scapula, 323 
 
 Scipio (Africanus minor), 33, 286 
 
 Scipio (Africanus major), 243, 
 
 379 
 Scipio (Nasica), 70, 285, 323 
 Sebosus, II, 12 
 
 Seneca, 50, 112, 178, 290, 324, 382 
 Servilia, 305, 333, 347 
 Servilius, 204, 205, 297 
 Servius Galba, 149, 243 
 Servius Ocella, 176 
 Sevigne, Mme. de, 6, 14 ssq., 104, 
 
 261 
 Sicac, 95 \ 
 
 Sicily, 74, 83, IIS, 121, 266, 268, 
 
 297. 347 
 Sicyon, 130 
 Sieyes, 124 
 Sositheus, 108 
 Spain, 102, 187, 190, 197, 202, 
 
 230, 263, 265, 270, 288, 367 
 Sparta, 120 
 Statius, 236, 237 
 Suetonius, 194, 203, 240, 296, 379, 
 
 382 seq. 
 Sulla, 36, 38, 45, 57, 59, 136, 139, 
 
 158, 245, 264, 291, 317, 328, 
 
 343 
 Sulpicius Galba, 192 
 Sulpicius, Servius, 102, 119, 184, 
 
 273, 285, 293 i-d^. 
 Sulpicius (tribune), 124 
 Syila, P., 83 
 Syria, 117, 336 
 
 Tacitus, 121, 161, 205, 302, 310, 
 
 322, 366, 369, 386, 389 
 Terence, 33, 162 
 Terentia, 91 seq., 99, 142, 165, 
 
 166 
 Thapsus, 202, 265, 286, 302, 326 
 Theophanes, 135 
 Thespiae, 119 
 Thessalonica, 316 
 Thessaly, 197, 215, 317, 349 
 Thrasea, 290 
 Thucydides, 2i 
 Thurium, 206 
 Tiber, 152, 168, 169, 172, 214, 
 
 373 
 Tiberius, 100, 307, 370 
 Tiberius Nero, 100 
 Tiro, 88, 99, 106, 109 seq. 
 Torquatus, 267, 296, 326 
 Trebatius, 95, 188, 2^1 seq., 240, 
 
 241, 244, 24s 
 Trebonius, 192, 197, 203, 204,246, 
 
 284, 330 
 Triarius, 326 
 Troy, 287 
 
 Tullia, 100 seq., 142, 258 
 Turenne, 16 
 Tusculum, S3, 61, 86 note, 88, 91, 
 
 95,Ull, 138, 144, 149, 217, 259, 
 
 260 
 
INDEX 
 
 399 
 
 Ulubrae, 231 
 Utica, 286 
 
 Varro, 61, 93, 138, 259 
 Vatinius, 4, 8, 170, 220, 222, 350 
 Vectenus, 87 
 Vedius, P., 120 
 Vedius, C, 306 
 
 Velia, 70, 72, 77, 348, 355 
 Velleius, 307 
 Vercingetorix, 225, 265, 344 
 
 Verona, 169 
 
 Verres, 8, 83, 120 
 Vestorius, 87 
 Via Sacra, 215 
 Virgil, 113 note, 235, 319 
 Volaterrae, 120 
 Volcatius TuUus, 243 
 Volumnius, 151 
 Volusius, 171 
 
 Xanthus, 316 
 
 Zeuxis, 238