Letter · 21 January 49 BC · in Campania

Ad Atticum 7.11

Ad Atticum 7.11

Headnote

Cicero to Atticus, written somewhere in Campania around 21 January 49 BC (the manuscript dateline: Scr. in Campania inter xiv et ix K. Febr. a. 705 (49) — between 19 and 24 January; Shackleton Bailey settles on the midpoint). Cicero is on the roads south, in the days after the subito-consilium letter, with the news shifting under him as he goes.

Section 1 is a single sustained outburst against Caesar, triggered by the bulletins coming in (“Cingulum we hold; Ancona we have lost; Labienus has left Caesar”) and pivoting on the question of whether the man on the march is a commander of the Roman people or a Hannibal. Cicero charges him with claiming dignitas where there is no honestas, with seizing cities of fellow-citizens to ease his road home, with chreōn (cancellations of debt) and phugadōn kathodous (recalls of exiles) and the final, openly tragic Greek phrase that names tyranny as the greatest of the gods. The personal aside is the heart of it: he would rather take an hour’s sun with Atticus in his lucrativum solem (the “windfall” sun-trap of the Roman house) than all the kingships in the world. Sections 2–3 turn the same alarm on Pompey: was abandoning the City the right counsel? Themistocles abandoned Athens, yes, but only because one city could not bear the wave of a whole barbarian world; Pericles fifty years later did not, and the Romans of old, when the City fell, held the Capitol.

Sections 4–5 are the steadier civic register. From the talk of the country-towns Cicero records that the case is shifting — the complaint that the City sits without magistrates and senate is moving people in Pompey’s favour, and now they think nothing is to be conceded to Caesar. The letter closes with the position Pompey has assigned Cicero (episkopos, overseer, of Campania and the seaboard, with the levy and the chief business referred to him) and the request for news of the hormē, Caesar’s onset, as often as Atticus can manage — since the situation is changeable and the writing and the reading are themselves what give him rest.

I beg you, what is this? Or what is going on? For me it is all darkness. “Cingulum,” he says, “we hold; Ancona we have lost; Labienus has left Caesar.” Are we talking about a commander of the Roman people, or about Hannibal? Insensate, miserable man — who has never so much as seen the shadow of the honourable! And he says he does all this for the sake of his standing. But where is standing to be found, except where there is honour? Honourable, then, to keep an army with no public authority; to seize cities of citizens, so as to make easier the road to his fatherland; to engineer cancellations of debt, the recalls of exiles, and six hundred crimes besides, that he may have the greatest of the gods, tyranny, for his own. Let him keep his fortune to himself! For my part, by Hercules, I would rather have one hour’s basking with you in that little sun-trap of yours than all kingships of that sort — or rather die a thousand deaths than once think anything of that kind. “And what if you wanted it?” you say.
quaeso, quid est hoc? aut quid agitur? mihi enim tenebrae sunt. Cingulum inquit nos tenemus, Anconem amisimus; Labienus discessit a Caesare. utrum de imperatore populi Romani an de Hannibale loquimur? o hominem amentem et miserum qui ne umbram quidem umquam τοῦ καλοῦ viderit! atque haec ait omnia facere se dignitatis causa. ubi est autem dignitas nisi ubi honestas? honestum igitur habere exercitum nullo publico consilio, occupare urbis civium quo facilior sit aditus ad patriam, χρεῶν, φυγάδων καθόδουσ, sescenta alia scelera moliri, τὴν θεῶν μεγίστην ὥστ’ ἔχειν τυραννίδα sibi habeat suam fortunam! unam me hercule tecum apricationem in illo lucrativo tuo sole malim quam omnia istius modi regna vel potius mori miliens quam semel istius modi quicquam cogitare. quid si tu velis? inquis.
Come now: who is there for whom wanting is not allowed? But this very wanting I think more miserable than being raised on a cross. There is one thing more miserable: to attain what you have so wanted. But enough of this. For amid these troubles I gladly take so much leisure for it.
age, quis est cui velle non liceat? sed ego hoc ipsum velle miserius esse duco quam in crucem tolli. una res est ea miserior, adipisci quod ita volueris. sed haec hactenus. libenter enim in his molestiis ἐνσχολάζω τόσον.
Let us go back to our man. By all that is holy! What kind of counsel of Pompey’s does it seem to you — this, I mean, that he has abandoned the City? For my part, I am at a loss. Then nothing more absurd. You, abandon the City? Then the same, I suppose, if the Gauls were coming? “The commonwealth,” he says, “does not lie in walls.” But in altars and hearths it does. “Themistocles did it.” Yes — because one city could not bear the wave of the whole barbarian world. But Pericles did not do the same, about fifty years later, when he held nothing but the walls; and our own forebears in the past, when the rest of the City was taken, kept the citadel all the same. So it goes, somehow.
redeamus ad nostrum. per fortunas! quale tibi consilium Pompei videtur? hoc quaero quod urbem reliquerit. ego enim ἀπορῶ. tum nihil absurdius. urbem tu relinquas? ergo idem, si Galli venirent? non est inquit in parietibus res publica. at in aris et focis. fecit Themistocles. fluctum enim totius barbariae ferre urbs una non poterat. at idem Pericles non fecit annum fere post quinquagesimum, cum praeter moenia nihil teneret; nostri olim urbe reliqua capta arcem tamen retinuerunt. οὕτωσ που
On the other hand, from the grief of the country-towns and from the talk of the men I meet, this plan looks as though it will turn out well. The complaint among people is extraordinary (I do not know whether it is so in Rome, but you will let me know) that the City is without magistrates, without a senate. Pompey, in flight, moves men wonderfully. What more can I say? The case has become a different one. They now think nothing should be conceded to Caesar. Explain to me what all this comes to.
rursus autem ex dolore municipali sermonibusque eorum quos convenio videtur hoc consilium exitum habiturum. mira hominum querela est (nescio an istic, sed facies ut sciam) sine magistratibus urbem esse, sine senatu. fugiens denique Pompeius mirabiliter homines movet. quid quaeris? alia causa facta est. nihil iam concedendum putant Caesari. haec tu mihi explica qualia sint.
I am in charge of a business that is not turbulent. For Pompey wants me to be the man whom this whole of Campania and the seaboard shall have as their overseer, to whom the levy and the chief matters of business shall be referred. So I was thinking of being on the move. You can already see, I think, what the onset of Caesar is, what the people is doing, what the state of the whole affair stands at. I should like you to write me of these things, and — since they are changeable — as often as you can. For I find rest both in writing to you and in reading what comes from you.
ego negotio praesum non turbulento. vult enim me Pompeius esse quem tota haec Campania et maritima ora habeat ἐπίσκοπον, ad quem dilectus et summa negoti referatur. itaque vagus esse cogitabam. te puto iam videre quae sit ὁρμή Caesaris, qui populus, qui totius negoti status. ea velim scribas ad me et quidem, quoniam mutabilia sunt, quam saepissime. acquiesco enim et scribens ad te et legens tua.

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