CICERO'S CORRESPONDENCE.
I. ATTICUS.
It seems wonderful how, in the midst of all his work, Cicero found time to
keep up such a voluminous correspondence. Something like eight hundred of
his letters still remain to us, and there were whole volumes of them long
preserved which are now lost,[1] to say nothing of the very many which may
never have been thought worth preserving. The secret lay in his wonderful
energy and activity. We find him writing letters before day-break, during
the service of his meals, on his journeys, and dictating them to an
amanuensis as he walked up and down to take needful exercise.
[Footnote 1: Collections of his letters to Caesar, Brutus, Cornelius Nepos
the historian, Hirtius, Pansa, and to his son, are known to have existed.]
His correspondents were of almost all varieties of position and character,
from Caesar and Pompey, the great men of the day, down to his domestic
servant and secretary, Tiro. Amongst them were rich and ease-loving
Epicureans like Atticus and Paetus, and even men of pleasure like Caelius:
grave Stoics like Cato, eager patriots like Brutus and Cassius, authors
such as Cornelius Nepos and Lucceius the historians, Varro the grammarian,
and Metius the poet; men who dabbled with literature in a gentleman-like
way, like Hirtius and Appius, and the accomplished literary critic and
patron of the day--himself of no mean reputation as poet, orator, and
historian--Caius Asinius Pollio. Cicero's versatile powers found no
difficulty in suiting the contents of his own letters to the various
tastes and interests of his friends. Sometimes he sends to his
correspondent what was in fact a political journal of the day--rather
one-sided, it must be confessed, as all political journals are, but
furnishing us with items of intelligence which throw light, as nothing
else can, on the history of those latter days of the Republic. Sometimes
he jots down the mere gossip of his last dinner-party; sometimes he
notices the speculations of the last new theorist in philosophy, or
discusses with a literary friend some philological question--the latter
being a study in which he was very fond of dabbling, though with little
success, for the science of language was as yet unknown.
His chief correspondent, as has been said, was his old school-fellow and
constant friend through life, Pomponius Atticus. The letters addressed to
him which still remain to us cover a period of twenty-four years, with
a few occasional interruptions, and the correspondence only ceased with
Cicero's death. The Athenianised Roman, though he had deliberately
withdrawn himself from the distracting factions of his native city, which
he seldom revisited, kept on the best terms with the leaders of all
parties, and seems to have taken a very lively interest, though merely in
the character of a looker-on, in the political events which crowded so
fast upon each other during the fifty years of his voluntary expatriation.
Cicero's letters were to him what an English newspaper would be now to an
English gentleman who for his own reasons preferred to reside in Paris,
without forswearing his national interests and sympathies. At times, when
Cicero was more at leisure, and when messengers were handy (for we have
to remember that there was nothing like our modern post), Cicero would
despatch one of these letters to Atticus daily. We have nearly four
hundred of them in all. They are continually garnished, even to the point
of affectation, with Greek quotations and phrases, partly perhaps in
compliment to his friend's Athenian tastes, and partly from the writer's
own passion for the language.
So much reference has been made to them throughout the previous
biographical sketch,--for they supply us with some of the most important
materials for Cicero's life and times,--that it may be sufficient to give
in this place two or three of the shorter as specimens of the collection.
One which describes a visit which he received from Julius Caesar, already
dictator, in his country-house near Puteoli, is interesting, as affording
a glimpse behind the scenes in those momentous days when no one knew
exactly whether the great captain was to turn out a patriot or a
conspirator against the liberties of Rome.
"To think that I should have had such a tremendous visitor! But never
mind; for all went off very pleasantly. But when he arrived at Philippus's
house[1] on the evening of the second day of the Saturnalia, the place was
so full of soldiers that they could hardly find a spare table for Caesar
himself to dine at. There were two thousand men. Really I was in a state
of perplexity as to what was to be done next day: but Barba Cassius came
to my aid,--he supplied me with a guard. They pitched their tents in the
grounds, and the house was protected. He stayed with Philippus until one
o'clock on the third day of the Saturnalia, and would see no one. Going
over accounts, I suppose, with Balbus. Then he walked on the sea-shore.
After two he had a bath: then he listened to some verses on Mamurra,
without moving a muscle of his countenance: then dressed,[2] and sat down
to dinner. He had taken a precautionary emetic, and therefore ate and
drank heartily and unrestrainedly. We had, I assure you, a very good
dinner, and well served; and not only that, but
'The feast of reason and the flow of soul'[3]
besides. His suite were abundantly supplied at three other tables: the
freedmen of lower rank, and even the slaves, were well taken care of. The
higher class had really an elegant entertainment. Well, no need to make a
long story; we found we were both 'flesh and blood'. Still he is not the
kind of guest to whom you would say--'Now do, pray, take us in your way on
your return'. Once is enough. We had no conversation on business, but a
good deal of literary talk. In short, he seemed to be much pleased, and to
enjoy himself. He said he should stay one day at Puteoli, and another at
Baiae. So here you have an account of this visit, or rather quartering of
troops upon me, which I disliked the thoughts of, but which really, as I
have said, gave me no annoyance. I shall stay here a little longer, then
go to my house at Tusculum. When Caesar passed Dolabella's villa, all
the troops formed up on the right and left of his horse, which they did
nowhere else.[4] I heard that from Nicias".
[Footnote 1: This was close to Cicero's villa, on the coast.]
[Footnote 2: Literally, "he got himself oiled". The emetic was a
disgusting practice of Roman _bon vivants_ who were afraid of
indigestion.]
[Footnote 3: The verse which Cicero quotes from Lucilius is fairly
equivalent to this.]
[Footnote 4: Probably by way of salute; or possibly as a precaution.]
In the following, he is anticipating a visit from his friend, and from the
lady to whom he is betrothed.
"I had a delightful visit from Cincius on the 30th of January, before
daylight. For he told me that you were in Italy, and that he was going
to send off some messengers to you, and would not let them go without a
letter from me. Not that I have much to write about (especially when
you are all but here), except to assure you that I am anticipating your
arrival with the greatest delight. Therefore fly to me, to show your own
affection, and to see what affection I bear you. Other matters when we
meet. I have written this in a hurry. As soon as ever you arrive, bring
all your people to my house. You will gratify me very much by coming. You
will see how wonderfully well Tyrrannio has arranged my books, the remains
of which are much better than I had thought. And I should be very glad if
you could send me a couple of your library clerks whom Tyrrannio could
make use of as binders, and to help him in other ways; and tell them to
bring some parchment to make indices--syllabuses, I believe you Greeks
call them. But this only if quite convenient to you. But, at any rate, be
sure you come yourself, if you can make any stay in our parts, and bring
Pilia with you, for that is but fair, and Tullia wishes it much. Upon my
word you have bought a very fine place. I hear that your gladiators fight
capitally. If you had cared to hire them out, you might have cleared
your expenses at these two last public shows. But we can talk about this
hereafter. Be sure to come; and do your best about the clerks, if you love
me".
The Roman gentleman of elegant and accomplished tastes, keeping a troop of
private gladiators, and thinking of hiring them out, to our notions, is a
curious combination of character; but the taste was not essentially more
brutal than the prize-ring and the cock-fights of the last century.
II. PAETUS.
Another of Cicero's favourite correspondents was Papirius Paetus, who
seems to have lived at home at ease, and taken little part in the
political tumults of his day. Like Atticus, he was an Epicurean, and
thought more of the pleasures of life than of its cares and duties. Yet
Cicero evidently took great pleasure in his society, and his letters to
him are written in the same familiar and genial tone as those to his old
school-fellow. Some of them throw a pleasant light upon the social
habits of the day. Cicero had had some friends staying with him at his
country-seat at Tusculum, to whom, he says, he had been giving lessons in
oratory. Dolabella, his son-in-law, and Hirtius, the future consul, were
among them. "They are my scholars in declamation, and I am theirs in
dinner-eating; for I conclude you have heard (you seem to hear everything)
that they come to me to declaim, and I go to them for dinners. 'Tis all
very well for you to swear that you cannot entertain me in such grand
fashion as I am used to, but it is of use.... Better be victimised by your
friend than by your debtors, as you have been. After all, I don't require
such a banquet as leaves a great waste behind it; a little will do, only
handsomely served and well cooked. I remember your telling me about a
dinner of Phamea's--well, it need not be such a late affair as that, nor
so grand in other respects; nay, if you persist in giving me one of your
mother's old family dinners, I can stand even that. My new reputation
for good living has reached you, I find, before my arrival, and you are
alarmed at it; but, pray, put no trust in your ante-courses--I have given
up that altogether. I used to spoil my appetite, I remember, upon your oil
and sliced sausages.... One expense I really shall put you to; I must have
my warm bath. My other habits, I assure you, are quite unaltered; all the
rest is joke".
Paetus seems to answer him with the same good-humoured badinage. Balbus,
the governor of Africa, had been to see him, he says, and _he_ had
been content with such humble fare as he feared Cicero might despise. So
much, at least, we may gather from Cicero's answer.
"Satirical as ever, I see. You say Balbus was content with very modest
fare. You seem to insinuate that when grandees are so moderate, much more
ought a poor ex-consul like myself so to be. You don't know that I fished
it all out of your visitor himself, for he came straight to my house on
his landing. The very first words I said to him were, 'How did you get on
with our friend Paetus?' He swore he had never been better entertained.
If this referred to the charms of your conversation, remember, I shall
be quite as appreciative a listener as Balbus; but if it meant the good
things on the table, I must beg you will not treat us men of eloquence
worse than you do a 'Lisper'".[1]
[Footnote 1: One of Cicero's puns. Balbus means 'Lisper'.]
They carry on this banter through several letters. Cicero regrets that he
has been unable as yet to pay his threatened visit, when his friend would
have seen what advances he had made in gastronomic science. He was
able now to eat through the whole bill of fare--"from the eggs to the
_roti_".
"I [Stoic that used to be] have gone over with my whole forces into the
camp of Epicurus. You will have to do with a man who can eat, and who
knows what's what. You know how conceited we late learners are, as the
proverb says. You will have to unlearn those little 'plain dinners' and
makeshifts of yours. We have made such advances in the art, that we
have been venturing to invite, more than once, your friends Verrius and
Camillus (what elegant and fastidious gentlemen they are!). But see how
audacious we are getting! I have even given Hirtius a dinner--but without
a peacock. My cook could imitate nothing in his entertainments except the
hot soup".
Then he hears that his friend is in bed with the gout.
"I am extremely sorry to hear it, as in duty bound; still, I am quite
determined to come, that I may see you, and pay my visit,--yes, and have
my dinner: for I suppose your cook has not got the gout as well".
Such were the playful epistles of a busy man. But even in some of these
lightest effusions we see the cares of the statesman showing through. Here
is a portion of a later letter to the same friend.
"I am very much concerned to hear you have given up going out to
dinner; for it is depriving yourself of a great source of enjoyment and
gratification. Then, again, I am afraid--for it is as well to speak
honestly--lest you should unlearn certain old habits of yours, and forget
to give your own little dinners. For if formerly, when you had good
examples to imitate, you were still not much of a proficient in that way,
how can I suppose you will get on now? Spurina, indeed, when I mentioned
the thing to him, and explained your previous habits, proved to
demonstration that there would be danger to the highest interests of the
state if you did not return to your old ways in the spring. But indeed, my
good Paetus, I advise you, joking apart, to associate with good fellows,
and pleasant fellows, and men who are fond of you. There is nothing better
worth having in life, nothing that makes life more happy.... See how I
employ philosophy to reconcile you to dinner-parties. Take care of your
health; and that you will best do by going out to dinner.... But don't
imagine, as you love me, that because I write jestingly I have thrown off
all anxiety about public affairs. Be assured, my dear Paetus, that I seek
nothing and care for nothing, night or day, but how my country may be kept
safe and free. I omit no opportunity of advising, planning, or acting. I
feel in my heart that if in securing this I have to lay down my life, I
shall have ended it well and honourably".
III. HIS BROTHER QUINTUS.
Between Marcus Cicero and his younger brother Quintus there existed a very
sincere and cordial affection--somewhat warmer, perhaps, on the side of
the elder, inasmuch as his wealth and position enabled him rather to
confer than to receive kindnesses; the rule in such cases being (so
cynical philosophers tell us) that the affection is lessened rather than
increased by the feeling of obligation. He almost adopted the younger
Quintus, his nephew, and had him educated with his own son; and the two
cousins received their earlier training together in one or other of Marcus
Cicero's country-houses under a clever Greek freedman of his, who was an
excellent scholar, and--what was less usual amongst his countrymen, unless
Cicero's estimate of them does them great injustice--a very honest man,
but, as the two boys complained, terribly passionate. Cicero himself,
however, was the head tutor--an office for which, as he modestly writes,
his Greek studies fully qualified him. Quintus Cicero behaved ill to his
brother after the battle of Pharsalia, making what seem to have been very
unjust accusations against him in order to pay court to Caesar; but they
soon became friends again.
Twenty-nine of the elder Cicero's letters to his brother remain, written
in terms of remarkable kindness and affection, which go far to vindicate
the Roman character from a charge which has sometimes been brought against
it of coldness in these family relationships. Few modern brothers,
probably, would write to each other in such terms as these:
"Afraid lest your letters bother me? I wish you would bother me, and
re-bother me, and talk to me and at me; for what can give me more
pleasure? I swear that no muse-stricken rhymester ever reads his own last
poem with more delight than I do what you write to me about matters
public or private, town or country. Here now is a letter from you full of
pleasant matter, but with this dash of the disagreeable in it, that you
have been afraid--nay, are even now afraid--of being troublesome to me.
I could quarrel with you about it, if that were not a sin. But if I have
reason to suspect anything of that sort again, I can only say that I shall
always be afraid lest, when we are together, I may be troublesome to you".
Or take, again, the pathetic apology which he makes for having avoided an
interview with Quintus in those first days of his exile when he was so
thoroughly unmanned:
"My brother, my brother, my brother! Did you really fear that I was angry,
because I sent off the slaves without any letter to you? And did you even
think that I was unwilling to see you? I angry with you? Could I possibly
be angry with you?... When I miss you, it is not a brother only that I
miss. To me you have always been the pleasantest of companions, a son in
dutiful affection, a father in counsel. What pleasure ever had I without
you, or you without me?"
Quintus had accompanied Caesar on his expedition into Britain as one
of his lieutenants, and seems to have written home to his brother some
notices of the country; to which the latter, towards the end of his reply,
makes this allusion:
"How delighted I was to get your letter from Britain! I had been afraid of
the voyage across, afraid of the rock-bound coast of the island. The other
dangers of such a campaign I do not mean to despise, but in these there is
more to hope than to fear, and I have been rather anxiously expecting the
result than in any real alarm about it. I see you have a capital subject
to write about. What novel scenery, what natural curiosities and
remarkable places, what strange tribes and strange customs, what a
campaign, and what a commander you have to describe! I will willingly help
you in the points you request, and I will send you the verses you ask
for--though it is sending 'an owl to Athens',[1] I know".
[Footnote 1: A Greek proverb, equivalent to our 'coals to Newcastle'.]
In another letter he says, "Only give me Britain to paint with your
colours and my own pencil". But either the Britons of those days did not,
after all, seem to afford sufficient interest for poem or history, or for
some other reason this joint literary undertaking, which seems once to
have been contemplated, was never carried out, and we have missed what
would beyond doubt have been a highly interesting volume of Sketches in
Britain by the brothers Cicero.
Quintus was a poet, as well as his brother--nay, a better poet, in the
latter's estimation, or at least he was polite enough to say so more than
once. In quantity, at least, if not in quality, the younger must have been
a formidable rival, for he wrote, as appears from one of these letters,
four tragedies in fifteen days--possibly translations only from the Greek.
One of the most remarkable of all Cicero's letters, and perhaps that which
does him most credit both as a man and a statesman, is one which he wrote
to his brother, who was at the time governor of Asia. Indeed, it is much
more than a letter; it is rather a grave and carefully weighed paper
of instructions on the duties of such a position. It is full of sound
practical sense, and lofty principles of statesmanship--very different
from the principles which too commonly ruled the conduct of Roman
governors abroad. The province which had fallen to the lot of Quintus
Cicero was one of the richest belonging to the Empire, and which presented
the greatest temptations and the greatest facilities for the abuse of
power to selfish purposes. Though called Asia, it consisted only of the
late kingdom of Pergamus, and had come under the dominion of Rome, not by
conquest, as was the case with most of the provinces, but by way of legacy
from Attalus, the last of its kings; who, after murdering most of his own
relations, had named the Roman people as his heirs. The seat of government
was at Ephesus. The population was of a very mixed character, consisting
partly of true Asiatics, and partly of Asiatic Greeks, the descendants of
the old colonists, and containing also a large Roman element--merchants
who were there for purposes of trade, many of them bankers and
money-lenders, and speculators who farmed the imperial taxes, and were
by no means scrupulous in the matter of fleecing the provincials. These
latter--the 'Publicani', as they were termed--might prove very dangerous
enemies to any too zealous reformer. If the Roman governor there really
wished to do his duty, what with the combined servility and double-dealing
of the Orientals, the proverbial lying of the Greeks, and the grasping
injustice of the Roman officials, he had a very difficult part to play.
How Quintus had been playing it is not quite clear. His brother, in this
admirable letter, assumes that he had done all that was right, and urges
him to maintain the same course. But the advice would hardly have been
needed if all had gone well hitherto.
"You will find little trouble in holding your subordinates in check, if
you can but keep a check upon yourself. So long as you resist gain, and
pleasure, and all other temptations, as I am sure you do, I cannot fancy
there will be any danger of your not being able to check a dishonest
merchant or an extortionate collector. For even the Greeks, when they see
you living thus, will look upon you as some hero from their old annals, or
some supernatural being from heaven, come down into their province.
"I write thus, not to urge you so to act, but that you may congratulate
yourself upon having so acted, now and heretofore. For it is a glorious
thing for a man to have held a government for three years in Asia, in such
sort that neither statue, nor painting, nor work of art of any kind,
nor any temptations of wealth or beauty (in all which temptations your
province abounds) could draw you from the strictest integrity and
self-control: that your official progresses should have been no cause
of dread to the inhabitants, that none should be impoverished by your
requisitions, none terrified at the news of your approach;--but that
you should have brought with you, wherever you came, the most hearty
rejoicings, public and private, inasmuch as every town saw in you a
protector and not a tyrant--every family received you as a guest, not as a
plunderer.
"But in these points, as experience has by this time taught you, it is not
enough for you to have these virtues yourself, but you must look to it
carefully, that in this guardianship of the province not you alone, but
every officer under you, discharges his duty to our subjects, to our
fellow-citizens, and to the state.... If any of your subordinates seem
grasping for his own interest, you may venture to bear with him so long
as he merely neglects the rules by which he ought to be personally bound;
never so far as to allow him to abuse for his own gain the power with
which you have intrusted him to maintain the dignity of his office. For
I do not think it well, especially since the customs of official life
incline so much of late to laxity and corrupt influence, that you should
scrutinise too closely every abuse, or criticise too strictly every one of
your officers, but rather place trust in each in proportion as you feel
confidence in his integrity.
"For those whom the state has assigned you as companions and assistants
in public business, you are answerable only within the limits I have just
laid down; but for those whom you have chosen to associate with yourself
as members of your private establishment and personal suite, you will be
held responsible not only for all they do, but for all they say....
"Your ears should be supposed to hear only what you publicly listen to,
not to be open to every secret and false whisper for the sake of private
gain. Your official seal should be not as a mere common tool, but as
though it were yourself; not the instrument of other men's wills, but the
evidence of your own. Your officers should be the agents of your clemency,
not of their own caprice; and the rods and axes which they bear should be
the emblems of your dignity, not merely of your power. In short, the whole
province should feel that the persons, the families, the reputation, and
the fortunes of all over whom you rule, are held by you very precious. Let
it be well understood that you will hold that man as much your enemy who
gives a bribe, if it comes to your knowledge, as the man who receives it.
But no one will offer bribes, if this be once made clear, that those who
pretend to have influence of this kind with you have no power, after all,
to gain any favour for others at your hands.
* * * * *
"Let such, then, be the foundations of your dignity;--first, integrity and
self-control on your own part; a becoming behaviour on the part of all
about you; a very careful and circumspect selection of your intimates,
whether Greeks or provincials; a grave and firm discipline maintained
throughout your household. For if such conduct befits us in our private
and everyday relations, it becomes well-nigh godlike in a government of
such extent, in a state of morals so depraved, and in a province which
presents so many temptations. Such a line of conduct and such rules will
alone enable you to uphold that severity in your decisions and decrees
which you have employed in some cases, and by which we have incurred (and
I cannot regret it) the jealousy of certain interested parties.... You may
safely use the utmost strictness in the administration of justice, so long
as it is not capricious or partial, but maintained at the same level for
all. Yet it will be of little use that your own decisions be just and
carefully weighed, unless the same course be pursued by all to whom you
delegate any portion of your judicial authority. Such firmness and dignity
must be employed as may not only be above partiality, but above the
suspicion of it. To this must be added readiness to give audience,
calmness in deciding, care in weighing the merits of the case and in
satisfying the claims of the parties".
Yet he advises that justice should be tempered with leniency.
"If such moderation be popular at Rome, where there is so much
self-assertion, such unbridled freedom, so much licence allowed to all
men;--where there are so many courts of appeal open, so many means
of help, where the people have so much power and the Senate so much
authority; how grateful beyond measure will moderation be in the governor
of Asia, a province where all that vast number of our fellow-citizens and
subjects, all those numerous states and cities, hang upon one man's nod!
where there is no appeal to the tribune, no remedy at law, no Senate, no
popular assembly. Wherefore it should be the aim of a great man, and one
noble by nature and trained by education and liberal studies, so to behave
himself in the exercise of that absolute power, as that they over whom
he presides should never have cause to wish for any authority other than
his".
IV. TIRO.
Of all Cicero's correspondence, his letters to Tiro supply the most
convincing evidence of his natural kindness of heart. Tiro was a slave;
but this must be taken with some explanation. The slaves in a household
like Cicero's would vary in position from the lowest menial to the
important major-domo and the confidential secretary. Tiro was of this
higher class. He had probably been born and brought up in the service,
like Eliezer in the household of Abraham, and had become, like him, the
trusted agent of his master and the friend of the whole family. He was
evidently a person of considerable ability and accomplishments, acting as
literary amanuensis, and indeed in some sort as a domestic critic, to his
busy master. He had accompanied him to his government in Cilicia, and
on the return home had been taken ill, and obliged to be left behind at
Patrae. And this is Cicero's affectionate letter to him, written from
Leucas (Santa Maura) the day afterwards:
"I thought I could have borne the separation from you better, but it is
plainly impossible; and although it is of great importance to the honours
which I am expecting[1] that I should get to Rome as soon as possible, yet
I feel I made a great mistake in leaving you behind. But as it seemed to
be your wish not to make the voyage until your health was restored, I
approved your decision. Nor do I think otherwise now, if you are still of
the same opinion. But if hereafter, when you are able to eat as usual, you
think you can follow me here, it is for you to decide. I sent Mario to
you, telling him either to join me with you as soon as possible, or, if
you are delayed, to come back here at once. But be assured of this, that
if it can be so without risk to your health, there is nothing I wish so
much as to have you with me. Only, if you feel it necessary for your
recovery to stay a little longer at Patrae, there is nothing I wish so
much as for you to get well. If you sail at once, you will catch us at
Leucas. But if you want to get well first, take care to secure pleasant
companions, fine weather, and a good ship. Mind this, my good Tiro, if you
love me--let neither Mario's visit nor this letter hurry you. By doing
what is best for your own health, you will be best obeying my directions.
Consider these points with your usual good sense. I miss you very much;
but then I love you, and my affection makes me wish to see you well, just
as my want of you makes me long to see you as soon as possible. But the
first point is the most important. Above all, therefore, take care to
get well: of all your innumerable services to me, this will be the most
acceptable".
[Footnote 1: The triumph for the victory gained under his nominal command
over the hill-tribes in Cilicia, during his governorship of that province
(p. 68).]
Cicero writes to him continually during his own journey homewards with the
most thoughtful kindness, begs that he will be cautious as to what vessel
he sails in, and recommends specially one very careful captain. He has
left a horse and a mule ready for him when he lands at Brundusium. Then he
hears that Tiro had been foolish enough to go to a concert, or something
of the kind, before he was strong, for which he mildly reproves him. He
has written to the physician to spare no care or pains, and to charge,
apparently, what he pleases. Several of his letters to his friend Atticus,
at this date, speak in the most anxious and affectionate terms of the
serious illness of this faithful servant. Just as he and his party are
starting from Leucas, they send a note "from Cicero and his son, and
Quintus the elder and younger, to their best and kindest Tiro". Then from
Rome comes a letter in the name of the whole family, wife and daughter
included:
"Marcus Tullius Cicero, and Cicero the younger, and Terentia, and Tullia,
and Brother Quintus, and Quintus's Son, to Tiro send greeting.
"Although I miss your able and willing service every moment, still it is
not on my own account so much as yours that I am sorry you are not well.
But as your illness has now taken the form of a quartan fever (for so
Curius writes), I hope, if you take care of yourself, you will soon be
stronger. Only be sure, if you have any kindness for me, not to trouble
yourself about anything else just now, except how to get well as soon
as may be. I am quite aware how much you regret not being with me; but
everything will go right if you get well. I would not have you hurry,
or undergo the annoyance of sea-sickness while you are weak, or risk a
sea-voyage in winter". Then he tells him all the news from Rome; how
there had been quite an ovation on his arrival there; how Caesar was (he
thought) growing dangerous to the state; and how his own coveted "triumph"
was still postponed. "All this", he says, "I thought you would like to
know". Then he concludes: "Over and over again, I beg you to take care
to get well, and to send me a letter whenever you have an opportunity.
Farewell, again and again".
Tiro got well, and outlived his kind master, who, very soon after this,
presented him with his freedom. It is to him that we are said to be
indebted for the preservation and publication of Cicero's correspondence.
He wrote, also, a biography of him, which Plutarch had seen, and of which
he probably made use in his own 'Life of Cicero', but which has not come
down to us.
There was another of his household for whom Cicero had the same affection.
This was Sositheus, also a slave, but a man, like Tiro, of some
considerable education, whom he employed as his reader. His death affected
Cicero quite as the loss of a friend. Indeed, his anxiety is such, that
his Roman dignity is almost ashamed of it. "I grieve", he says, "more than
I ought for a mere slave". Just as one might now apologise for making too
much fuss about a favourite dog; for the slave was looked upon in scarcely
a higher light in civilised Rome. They spoke of him in the neuter gender,
as a chattel; and it was gravely discussed, in case of danger in a storm
at sea, which it would be right first to cast overboard to lighten the
ship, a valuable horse or an indifferent slave. Hortensius, the rival
advocate who has been mentioned, a man of more luxurious habits and less
kindly spirit than Cicero, who was said to feed the pet lampreys in his
stews much better than he did his slaves, and to have shed tears at the
death of one of these ugly favourites, would have probably laughed at
Cicero's concern for Sositheus and Tiro.
But indeed every glimpse of this kind which Cicero's correspondence
affords us gives token of a kindly heart, and makes us long to know
something more. Some have suspected him of a want of filial affection,
owing to a somewhat abrupt and curt announcement in a letter to Atticus
of his father's death; and his stanch defenders propose to adopt,
with Madvig, the reading, _discessit_--"left us", instead of
_decessit_--"died". There really seems no occasion. Unless Atticus
knew the father intimately, there was no need to dilate upon the old man's
death; and Cicero mentions subsequently, in terms quite as brief, the
marriage of his daughter and the birth of his son--events in which we are
assured he felt deeply interested. If any further explanation of this
seeming coldness be required, the following remarks of Mr. Forsyth are
apposite and true:
"The truth is, that what we call _sentiment_ was almost unknown to
the ancient Romans, in whose writings it would be as vain to look for it
as to look for traces of Gothic architecture amongst classic ruins. And
this is something more than a mere illustration. It suggests a reason
for the absence. Romance and sentiment came from the dark forests of the
North, when Scandinavia and Germany poured forth their hordes to subdue
and people the Roman Empire. The life of a citizen of the Republic of Rome
was essentially a public life. The love of country was there carried to
an extravagant length, and was paramount to, and almost swallowed up, the
private and social affections. The state was everything, the individual
comparatively nothing. In one of the letters of the Emperor Marcus
Aurelius to Fronto, there is a passage in which he says that the
Roman language had no word corresponding with the Greek [Greek:
philostorgia],--the affectionate love for parents and children. Upon
this Niebuhr remarks that the feeling was 'not a Roman one; but Cicero
possessed it in a degree which few Romans could comprehend, and hence he
was laughed at for the grief which he felt at the death of his daughter
Tullia'".