Letter · 2 May 49 BC · in Cumano

Ad Atticum 10.8

Ad Atticum 10.8

Headnote

Cicero to Atticus, written from the Cuman villa on the sixth day before the Nones of May 49 BC (the manuscript dateline: Scr.\ in Cumano vi Non.\ Mai.\ a.\ 705 (49)). The longest letter in the Cuman stretch, and the most fully argued. Both Tullia and Atticus, in their last letters, have urged Cicero to wait on the outcome of the Spanish campaign before crossing to Pompey; the body of this letter is a careful, ordered case against waiting — a consilium that runs through the three possible outcomes in Spain, the question whether Spain even decides the larger war, the risk-calculus on both sides, and a final auguria drawn not from the College of Augurs and Attus Navius but from Plato’s analysis of tyranny. Cicero opens by signalling that the channel is now compromised — “it was time we put an end to writing between us” on dangerous topics — and only Tullia’s repeated entreaty has prompted him to break that silence.

The political diagnosis is the bluntest yet: if Caesar wins he sees “slaughter, an attack on private wealth, the recall of exiles, the cancelling of debts, honours for the most shameful men, and a kingship not merely intolerable to a Roman — intolerable to any Persian.” He calls Pompey’s strategy “Themistoclean” — a maritime war fought from a fleet, with the Spains not the centre of gravity — and frames his own deliberative choice against that scale: even if defeated, he will have chosen rightly. The Themistocles excursus in section 7 quotes Thucydides twice in the original Greek and is the most fully realised classical exemplum in the Cuman letters; section 8 is missing from the transmitted text. The letter ends warmly with thanks to Atticus for his care of Tullia (whose [Greek: storg\=e] and [Greek: synt\=exis] Cicero singles out), and with the announcement that Antony is due at Misenum that very day, the sixth before the Nones, having sent ahead a “tiresome letter” — the text of which the editors print as 10.8B, attached at the foot of this letter.

The matter itself was warning me, and you had pointed it out, and I could see for myself, that on those subjects the interception of which would be dangerous it was time we put an end to writing between us. But since my Tullia keeps writing to me, begging me to wait for what is being done in Spain, and always adding that you are of the same view, and since I have understood this from your own letters too, I do not think it amiss to write to you what I think about the matter.
et res ipsa monebat et tu ostenderas et ego videbam de iis rebus quas intercipi periculosum esset finem inter nos scribendi fieri tempus esse. sed cum ad me saepe mea Tullia scribat orans ut quid in Hispania geratur exspectem et semper adscribat idem videri tibi idque ipse etiam ex tuis litteris intellexerim, non puto esse alienum me ad te quid de ea re sentiam scribere.
That plan, in my judgement, would be a prudent one if we were going to shape our course by what happens in Spain. Of necessity one of three things must come about: either, what I should most wish, that fellow is driven out of Spain; or the war is drawn out; or he, as he seems to expect, seizes the Spains. If he is driven out, how welcome or how honourable will be my arrival then with Pompey, when I judge that Curio himself will be going over to him? If the war is drawn out, what am I to wait for, and how long? That leaves the case in which, if we are beaten in Spain, we keep quiet. The opposite, in my judgement, is the truth: I think that fellow ought rather to be deserted as a victor than as one defeated, doubtful rather than confident in his fortunes. For if he wins I see slaughter, an attack on private wealth, the recall of exiles, the cancelling of debts, honours for the most shameful men, and a kingship not merely intolerable to a Roman — intolerable to any Persian.
consilium istud tunc esset prudens, ut mihi videtur, si nostras rationes ad Hispaniensem casum accommodaturi essemus; quod fieri necesse est enim aut, id quod maxime velim, pelli istum ab Hispania aut trahi id bellum aut istum, ut confidere videtur, apprehendere Hispanias. si pelletur, quam gratus aut quam honestus tum erit ad Pompeium noster adventus, cum ipsum Curionem ad eum transiturum putem? sin trahitur bellum, quid exspectem aut quam diu? relinquitur ut, si vincimur in Hispania, quiescamus. id ego contra puto. istum enim victorem magis relinquendum puto quam victum et dubitantem magis quam fidentem suis rebus. nam caedem video si vicerit et impetum in privatorum pecunias et exsulum reditum et tabulas novas et turpissimorum honores et regnum non modo Romano homini sed ne Persae quidem cuiquam tolerabile.
Will our outrage be able to keep silent? Will my eyes be able to bear the sight of me speaking my vote alongside Gabinius, and to bear his being called on before me? to have your client Clodius standing by, and Plaguleius the freedman of Gaius Ateius, and the rest? But why do I gather up the enemies, when I shall not be able to look upon, without pain, in the Senate House, those of my own connections whom I have defended, or to move among them without disgrace? And what if it is not even certain that I shall be allowed to do so? For his friends write to me that I have by no means satisfied him by not coming to the Senate. Are we even so to hesitate whether to sell ourselves to him — and at peril at that — when not even with reward would we be joined to him?
Tacita esse poterit indignitas nostra? pati poterunt oculi me cum Gabinio sententiam dicere, et quidem illum rogari prius? praesto esse clientem tuum Clodium, C. Atei Plaguleium, ceteros? sed cur inimicos conligo, qui meos necessarios a me defensos nec videre in curia sine dolore nec versari inter eos sine dedecore potero? quid si ne id quidem est exploratum fore ut mihi liceat? scribunt enim ad me amici eius me illi nullo modo satis fecisse quod in senatum non venerim. tamenne dubitemus an ei nos etiam cum periculo venditemus, quicum coniuncti ne cum praemio quidem voluimus esse?
Then consider this too: the whole question is not being decided in Spain — unless perhaps you think that, with the Spains lost, Pompey would throw down his arms, when his whole plan is Themistoclean. He judges that the man who holds the sea must hold the situation. For that reason it has never been his object that the Spains should be held for their own sake; the readying of a fleet has always been his oldest concern. He will sail, then, when the time is ripe, with the largest of fleets, and will come up to Italy. In which, sitting still, what shall we be? For to remain in the middle will no longer be permitted. Shall we oppose his fleets, then? What crime could be greater than that, what could equal it? What more disgraceful? Did I alone bear that man’s crime against absent men, and shall I not bear it now along with Pompey and the rest of the leading men?
deinde hoc vide, non esse iudicium de tota contentione in Hispaniis, nisi forte iis amissis arma Pompeium abiecturum putas, cuius omne consilium Themistocleum est. existimat enim qui mare teneat eum necesse esse rerum potiri. itaque numquam id egit ut Hispaniae per se tenerentur, navalis apparatus ei semper antiquissima cura fuit. navigabit igitur, cum erit tempus, maximis classibus et ad Italiam accedet. in qua nos sedentes quid erimus? nam medios esse iam non licebit. classibus adversabimur igitur? quod maius scelus aut tantum denique? quid turpius? †anuival dehic† in absentis solus tuli scelus, eiusdem cum Pompeio et cum reliquis principibus non feram?
But if, with the duty now waved aside, account is to be taken of risk: from those men there is risk if I do wrong, from this one if I do right; and no plan in these troubles can be found that is free of risk, so that there is no doubt we should be running from a shameful course at peril, when we would run from it even if it were safe. Did we not cross the sea together with Pompey? We could not at all. The reckoning of the days makes it plain. And yet — to confess what is the fact — we are not even now packing up so that we can. One thing has deceived me, which perhaps it ought not to have done, but it did: I thought there would be peace. If there had been, I did not want Caesar to be angry with me when he was also Pompey’s friend; for I had perceived how much of one mind they were. From fear of this I have fallen into this slowness. But I shall make up all of it if I press on; if I delay, I shall lose all.
quod si iam misso officio periculi ratio habenda est, ab illis est periculum si peccaro, ab hoc si recte fecero, nec ullum in his malis consilium periculo vacuum inveniri potest, ut non sit dubium quin turpiter facere cum periculo fugiamus, quod fugeremus etiam cum salute. † non simul cum Pompeio mare transierimus. omnino non potuimus†. exstat ratio dierum. sed tamen (fateamur enim quod est) ne condimus quidem ut possimus. fefellit ea me res quae fortasse non debuit, sed fefellit. pacem putavi fore. quae si esset iratum mihi Caesarem esse, cum idem amicus esset Pompeio, nolui. senseram enim quam idem essent. hoc verens in hanc tarditatem incidi. sed adsequor omnia si propero, si cunctor amitto.
And yet, my Atticus, omens too rouse me with a certain hope which is not unsure — not those of our College of augurs from Attus Navius, but those of Plato about tyrants. For I see no way in which that fellow can stand any longer without his falling, by his own act, even with us doing nothing; seeing that, at the very height of his fortune and newly come, he has in six or seven days drawn upon himself the bitterest hatred of the very mob, needy and lost as it is; that he has so quickly stripped away the pretence of two things, mildness in the matter of Metellus, riches in the matter of the treasury. And then, what allies or what ministers has he to use? Are those men to govern provinces, are those men to govern the commonwealth, of whom not one was able to manage his own patrimony for two months?
et tamen, mi Attice, auguria quoque me incitant quadam spe non dubia nec haec collegi nostri ab Atto sed illa Platonis de tyrannis. nullo enim modo posse video stare istum diutius quin ipse per se etiam languentibus nobis concidat, quippe qui florentissimus ac novus vi, vii diebus ipsi illi egenti ac perditae multitudini in odium acerbissimum venerit, qui duarum rerum simulationem tam cito amiserit, mansuetudinis in Metello, divitiarum in aerario. iam quibus utatur vel sociis vel ministris? ii provincias, ii rem publicam regent quorum nemo duo menses potuit patrimonium suum gubernare?
It is not for me to gather up all the considerations which you with the keenest insight see for yourself; but set them before your eyes, and you will at once understand that such a kingship cannot last so much as half a year. If I am mistaken, I shall bear it — as many of the most distinguished men, in their excellence in public affairs, have borne it — unless you happen to think I prefer, after the manner of Sardanapallus, to die in my own little bed rather than in a Themistoclean exile. Themistocles, who, though, as Thucydides says, he was tōn men parontōn di’ elachistēs boulēs kratistos gnōmōn — of present matters by briefest deliberation the most certain judge — still fell into those misfortunes which he would have escaped if nothing had deceived him. And though he was, as the same writer says, the man who to ameinon kai to cheiron en tōi aphanei eti heōra malista — best of all foresaw, while it was yet hidden, the better and the worse outcome — still he did not see how he was to escape the ill-will either of the Spartans or of his own fellow citizens, nor what to promise to Artaxerxes. That night would not have been so bitter to Africanus, wisest of men; that day of Sulla’s would not have been so dreadful to Gaius Marius, shrewdest of men, if nothing had deceived either of them. As for us, we are confirming ourselves in this by that omen of which I spoke; and it does not deceive us, and it will not turn out otherwise. That fellow must fall, either by his adversaries or by himself, who is indeed of all his adversaries the fiercest. I hope this will happen while we are still alive — though it is time for us to be thinking by now of that other, everlasting life, not this brief one. But if anything should befall us sooner, it will make no very great difference to me whether I see what is being done at the time, or whether I have long foreseen that it would be. Since this is so, it must not be admitted that I obey those whom the Senate, lest the commonwealth take any harm, armed against me.
non sunt omnia conligenda quae tu acutissime perspicis, sed tamen ea pone ante oculos; iam intelleges id regnum vix semenstre esse posse. quod si me fefellerit, feram, sicut multi clarissimi homines in re publica excellentes tulerunt, nisi forte me Sardanapalli vicem in suo lectulo mori malle censueris quam in exsilio Themistocleo. qui cum fuisset, ut ait Thucydides, τῶν μὲν παρόντων δι’, tamen incidit in eos casus quos vitasset si eum nihil fefellisset. etsi is erat ut ait idem, qui τὸ ἄμεινον καὶ τὸ χεῖρον ἐν τῷ ἀφανεῖ ἔτι ἑώρα μάλιστα, tamen non vidit nec quo modo Lacedaemoniorum nec quo modo suorum civium invidiam effugeret nec quid Artaxerxi polliceretur. non fuisset illa nox tam acerba Africano sapientissimo viro, non tam dirus ille dies Sullanus callidissimo viro C. Mario, si nihil utrumque eorum fefellisset. nos tamen hoc confirmamus illo augurio quo diximus, nec nos fallit nec aliter accidet. c corruat iste necesse est aut per adversarios aut ipse per se qui quidem sibi est adversarius unus acerrimus. id spero vivis nobis fore; quamquam tempus est nos de illa perpetua iam, non de hac exigua vita cogitare. sin quid acciderit maturius, haud sane mea multum interfuerit utrum factum fiat videam an futurum esse multo ante viderim. quae cum ita sint, non est committendum ut iis paream quos contra me senatus, ne quid res publica detrimenti acciperet, armavit
Everything is in your charge, which from your love for me has no need of my charging. Nor, by Hercules, can I myself find what to write; for I sit there waiting ploudokōn. Even so, nothing was ever so worth writing as that nothing has ever happened to me, out of so many kindnesses of yours, more welcome than that you have looked after my Tullia so sweetly and so attentively. She herself was much delighted by it, and I no less. Her courage, indeed, is wonderful. How she bears the public catastrophe! how she bears her domestic troubles! And what a spirit she showed at our parting! There is affection storgē; there is the deepest fellow-feeling syntēxis. And yet she wants us to do what is right and to be well spoken of.
tibi sunt omnia commendata, quae commendationis meae pro tuo in nos amore non indigent. nec hercule ego quidem reperio quid scribam; sedeo enim πλουδοκῶν. etsi nihil umquam tam fuit scribendum quam nihil mihi umquam ex plurimis tuis iucunditatibus gratius accidisse quam quod meam Tulliam suavissime diligentissimeque coluisti. valde eo ipsa delectata est, ego autem non minus. cuius quidem virtus mirifica. quo modo illa fert publicam cladem, quo modo domesticas tricas! quantus autem animus in discessu nostro! est στοργή, est summa σύντηξισ. tamen nos recte facere et bene audire vult.
But enough of this, lest I rouse up my own sympathy sympatheian too much. You, if you have anything more certain about the Spains, and anything else, while I am still here, write to me; and I too, perhaps, on parting, will send you a line, the more so because Tullia did not think you were leaving Italy at this time. With Antony we must take the same course as with Curio: that I wish to be on Malta, that I do not wish to be a party to this civil war. I should be glad to find him as easy and as good toward me as Curio. He was reported to be coming to Misenum on the sixth day before the Nones, that is to-day. But he has sent ahead to me a tiresome letter, of which this is the copy:
sed hac super re ne ni mis, ne meam ipse συμπάθειαν iam evocem. tu si quid de Hispaniis certius et si quid aliud, dum adsumus, scribes, et ego fortasse discedens dabo ad te aliquid eo etiam magis quod Tullia te non putabat hoc tempore ex Italia. cum Antonio item est agendum ut cum Curione Melitae me velle esse, huic civili bello nolle interesse. eo velim tam facili uti posse et tam bono in me quam Curione. is ad Misenum vi Nonas venturus aicebatur, id est hodie. sed praemisit mihi odiosas litteras hoc exemplo:

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Ad Atticum 10.8

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