Letter · 14 May 49 BC · in Cumano

Ad Atticum 10.16

Ad Atticum 10.16

Headnote

Cicero to Atticus, written from the Cuman villa on the day before the Ides of May 49 BC — 14 May (the manuscript dateline: Scr.\ in Cumano prid.\ Id.\ Mai.\ a.\ 705 (49)). The letter opens on a fresh private wound. Dionysius — the freedman tutor of the boys — has just come early in the morning. Atticus’s earlier letter, received at Arpinum, had given Cicero to expect that Dionysius would arrive ready to do what Cicero wished, namely to go with him; instead, after a very few words, Dionysius asked to be excused, pleading his own entangled affairs. Cicero’s reaction is sharp and unguarded: he understood that Dionysius had looked down on his fortunes; among the greatest griefs of these days, he reckons this one. The grace note is for Atticus’s sake — “I hope he may be a friend to you. In wishing this for you, I am wishing you happiness; for then it will last just so long.”

The rest of the letter is operational. Cicero hopes his plan to slip away to Pompey will pass without danger; he has dissembled and trusts he is not being watched too sharply. Cato has sailed from Syracuse on 24 April, having given up a Sicily he could have held; Cotta is rumoured to hold Sardinia (“oh, the shame of Cato” if so). On 13 May Cicero went to his Pompeian villa to lessen suspicion. There the centurions of the three cohorts at Pompeii sent Ninnius to say they wished to hand themselves and the town over to him; he left the villa before dawn so as not to be seen. Three cohorts were too few, the apparatus too small, and the overture (as he reflected on a Caelian letter from Atticus that had just reached him at Cumae) might well have been a trap. Hortensius has called on Terentia in his absence and spoken honourably of him — a contrast sharpened in the closing thrust at Antony, whose litter, with an actress inside, is carried in state among his lictors. The letter ends as the previous one did, with a nudge to Atticus, now clear of the quartan and a head-cold besides, to show himself vigorous in Greece and to keep the letters coming meanwhile.

I had just given you a letter on several matters when, very early in the morning, Dionysius came to me. To him I would have shown myself not just pacified but entirely conciliated, had he come in the frame of mind your letter to me had indicated. For your letter, which I received at Arpinum, said that he would come, and would do what I wished. Now what I wished — or rather what I longed for — was that he should be with us. Because, when he came to my Formian villa, he cut that off flatly, I have been used to writing of him to you in harsher terms. But he, after a very few words, gave the substance of his speech in this: that I should forgive him; that, being entangled in his own affairs, he could not go with us. I answered briefly; I felt great pain; I understood that he had looked down on our fortunes. What more can I say? You will be surprised, perhaps: among the greatest griefs of these times, know that this man is one to me. I hope he may be a friend to you. In wishing this for you, I am wishing you happiness; for then it will last just so long.
commodum ad te dederam litteras de pluribus rebus cum ad me bene mane Dionysius fuit. quoi quidem ego non modo placabilem me praebuissem sed totum remisissem, si advenisset qua mente tu ad me scripseras. erat enim sic in tuis litteris quas Arpini acceperam, eum venturum facturumque quod ego vellem. ego volebam autem vel cupiebam potius esse eum nobiscum. quod quia plane, cum in Formianum venisset, praeciderat, asperius ad te de eo scribere solebam. at ille perpauca locutus hanc summam habuit orationis ut sibi ignoscerem; se rebus suis impeditum nobiscum ire non posse. pauca respondi, magnum accepi dolorem, intellexi fortunam ab eo nostram despectam esse. quid quaeris? (fortasse miraberis) in maximis horum temporum doloribus hunc mihi scito esse. velim ut tibi amicus sit. hoc cum tibi opto, opto ut beatus sis; erit enim tam diu.
I hope our plan will be free of danger. We have dissembled, and, as I think, we shall not be watched too sharply. Only let our voyage be such as I hope; the rest, so far as foresight in planning can provide for it, will be guarded against. While I am here, I should be grateful if you would write me not only what you know or have heard but also what you foresee as coming.
consilium nostrum spero vacuum periculo fore. nam et dissimulavimus et, ut opinor, non acerrime adservabimur. navigatio modo sit qualem opto, cetera, quae quidem consilio provideri poterunt, cavebuntur. tu, dum adsumus, non modo quae scies audierisve sed etiam quae futura providebis scribas velim.
Cato, who could have held Sicily with no trouble (and, had he held it, all loyal men would have rallied to him), set sail from Syracuse on the eighth day before the Kalends of May, as Curio writes me. Would that Cotta, as they say, may hold Sardinia! For so the rumour goes. Oh, if that should prove true — the shame of Cato!
Cato, qui Siciliam tenere nullo negotio potuit (et, si tenuisset, omnes boni ad eum se contulissent), Syracusis profectus est ante diem viii K. Mai., ut ad me Curio scripsit. utinam, quod aiunt, Cotta Sardiniam teneat! est enim rumor. o, si id fuerit, turpem Catonem!
I, to lessen suspicion of my departure or even of the thought of it, set out for my Pompeian villa on the third day before the Ides, to be there while what was needed for the voyage was being made ready. When I had reached the villa, word was brought to me that the centurions of the three cohorts which are at Pompeii wished to meet me the next day — our friend Ninnius told me this — and that they wanted to hand over to me both themselves and the town. But I left the villa the next day, before dawn, so that they should not see me at all. For what was in three cohorts? What if there had been more? With what equipment? I thought over those same Caelian considerations I had read in your letter, which I received just as I arrived back at the Cuman villa on the same day, and at the same time it could have been a test laid for me. So I removed all ground for suspicion.
ego ut minuerem suspicionem profectionis aut cogitationis meae, profectus sum in Pompeianum a. d. iii Idus ut ibi essem dum quae ad navigandum opus essent pararentur. cum ad villam venissem, ventum est ad me: centuriones trium cohortium, quae Pompeiis sunt, me velle postridie convenire —haec mecum Ninnius noster,— velle eos mihi se et oppidum tradere. at ego abii postridie a villa ante lucem, ut me omnino illi ne viderent. quid enim erat in tribus cohortibus? quid si plures? quo apparatu? cogitavi eadem illa Caeliana quae legi in epistula tua quam accepi simul et in Cumanum veni eodem die, et simul fieri poterat ut temptaremur. omnem igitur suspicionem sustuli.
But while I was returning, Hortensius had come and had stopped off to pay his respects to Terentia. He had spoken about me in honourable terms. I shall see him, as I think, presently; he has sent a slave saying that he is coming to me. This, at any rate, is better than what our colleague Antony does, whose litter, with an actress inside, is carried among his lictors.
sed, dum redeo, Hortensius venerat et ad me Terentiam salutatum deverterat. sermone erat usus honorifico erga me. iam eum, ut puto, videbo; misit enim puerum se ad me venire. hoc quidem melius quam conlega noster Antonius, cuius inter lictores lectica mima portatur.
You, since you are free of the quartan, and have got rid of that new ailment too, the head-cold: present yourself to us in Greece full of vigour, and meanwhile something of a letter.
tu quoniam quartana cares et novum morbum removisti sed etiam gravedinem, teque vegetum nobis in Graecia siste et litterarum aliquid interea.

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Ad Atticum 10.16

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