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;[71] but these means, very convenient for people in
haste to enrich themselves, could only be used by 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
important 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 understand 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; 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 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 proconsul 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
(£17,600), 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 forbidding 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,[72] 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 determined to pay in some manner for
the services which they 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.[73] 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.[74] 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 Papirius Poetus, for whom he had just
pleaded.[75] 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 himself 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 (£16,000). 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.[76] 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 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.[77] 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.[78] 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 inherited
from his old master the Stoic Diodotus, whom he had kept at his house
till his death.[79] 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 (£800). The union of all these
small legacies no doubt made up a considerable sum. Cicero himself
values it at more than twenty million sesterces (£160,000).[80] It seems
to me, therefore, that there is no 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 (£640).[81] He possessed numerous villas in
Italy. We know of eight very important ones belonging to him,[82]
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
off-hand way, that he thinks he may have about six hundred thousand
sesterces (£4800) in his own hands.[83] We have here perhaps 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 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. Success 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 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;[84] 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 correspondence is full,
make us think, almost 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 without
consideration, who exclaimed one day in a tone of conviction that moves
us: “Ye immortal gods, when will men understand what treasures are found
in economy!”[85] 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-condemned, and I do not
wish to entirely absolve him; but while we pronounce on him a severe
sentence, let us remember 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
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 disinterested in money matters than others. In the
main, his irregularities only injured himself,[86] 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 honourable 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.[87] 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, entertainments, and
almost to intercourse with one’s friends.”[88] This was the price he
paid for his success. The ambition by which 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,[89] banter him about a
clever woman, named Caerellia, whom he somewhere calls his intimate
friend.[90] She was so in fact, and it appears that she was not wanting
in influence over him. His correspondence with her was preserved and
published. 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 household, we only see her intervening to
reconcile him with his wife,[91] in fact that their acquaintance seems
to have begun in a common liking for philosophy;[92] 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 writers, and yet truly
Roman.”[93] 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.