Letter · 28 November 48 BC · Brundisi

Ad Atticum 11.6

Ad Atticum 11.6

Headnote

Cicero to Atticus, written from Brundisium on the fourth day before the Kalends of December 48 BC — 28 November (the manuscript dateline: Scr.\ Brundisi iv K.\ Dec.\ a.\ 706 (48), and the date is repeated at the foot of the letter itself). Three weeks have passed since 11.5; Cicero is still pinned at Brundisium and still defending, to Atticus and to himself, the decision to leave Pompey’s camp. The letter is more substantial than the previous one, more articulate, and considerably darker. It opens with the grief that doubles when shared (1): Atticus approves the decision, says the men who matter approve it too — but if Cicero really believed that, “I should feel the pain less.”

The centre of the letter (2) is the harshest formal apologia for Pharsalus-side defection that Cicero ever puts on paper. The Pompeian camp, he insists, had become something foreign to the republic: cruelty so unbounded, and so close a coupling with barbarian peoples, that a proscription had been “sketched out not by name but by class,” with the property of every senator who had stayed in Italy already counted as booty of the coming victory. He does not regret the will, only the plan: better to have sat down in some town and waited to be summoned than to lie at Brundisium — exposed on every side — and unable now to move closer without lictors he cannot lawfully shed. The section ends in two short, manuscript-corrupt clauses preserved here as \ markers, the second of which has resisted convincing emendation; the sense given is the most natural reading of the corrupted text. 3 turns to operational matters: he has written to Oppius and Balbus to ask in what manner he ought to come nearer to Rome, and floats the idea that Trebonius, Pansa, and others write to Caesar endorsing his action as taken on the recommendation of Caesar’s own circle. 4 is the single private cry of the letter — Tullia is ill, and the illness is undoing him. 5 is the dignified, unsurprised notice of Pompey’s death (“About Pompey’s end I never had a doubt”), with one of the gentlest valedictions Cicero ever gives a dead political opponent. 6 collects what news there is from elsewhere: Fannius has been talking dangerously about Atticus’s having stayed in Italy; Lentulus had already parcelled out the spoils in his head (Hortensius’s house, Caesar’s gardens, Baiae); the two sides, he notes drily, are not very different except that the other was without limit. He hears Quintus has gone to Asia to plead his case and has no news of his nephew. The letter closes with a request for letters back as soon as possible, and the Brundisium dateline.

That you are anxious — about your own fortunes and our common ones, but most of all about me and about my pain — I can feel. This pain of mine, indeed, is not lessened by taking on your pain as its companion, but is even increased. With your usual prudence, of course, you can see what consolation might most lighten me. You approve of my decision, and deny that there was anything I should rather have done at such a time. You add (and although this carries less weight with me than your own verdict, it is not light either) that my action is approved by the rest as well — the men, that is, who count for something. If I really thought so, I should feel the pain less.
sollicitum esse te cum de tuis communibusque fortunis tum maxime de me ac de dolore meo sentio. qui quidem meus dolor non modo non minuitur cum socium sibi adiungit dolorem tuum sed etiam augetur. omnino pro tua prudentia sentis qua consolatione levari maxime possim. probas enim meum consilium negasque mihi quicquam tali tempore potius faciendum fuisse. addis etiam (quod etsi mihi levius est quam tuum iudicium, tamen non est leve) ceteris quoque, id est qui pondus habeant, factum nostrum probari. id si ita putarem, levius dolerem.
“Believe me,” you say. I do believe you; but I know how you long to lessen my pain. That I left the army I have never regretted. There was such cruelty in that camp, such a coupling with barbarian nations, that the proscription had been sketched out not by name but by class — it had already become the settled judgement of them all that the goods of all of you were the booty of that victory. “Of you” I say plainly: about you personally nothing was ever thought except in the most cruel terms. And so I shall never regret what I willed; what I planned, I do regret. I should rather have sat down in some town until I was summoned: I should have invited less talk upon myself, taken on less pain, and this very thing would not be gnawing at me now. To lie at Brundisium is irksome on every side. To come closer, as you urge — how can I, without the lictors the people granted me? They cannot be taken from me while I am uncondemned. Whom, indeed, I did not\ briefly, with their rods, thrust into the crowd as I was approaching the town, for fear some assault by the soldiery should occur. I retreat into the house for the moment, and you now\ —
crede inquis mihi. credo equidem sed scio quam cupias minui dolorem meum. me discessisse ab armis numquam paenituit. tanta erat in illis crudelitas, tanta cum barbaris gentibus coniunctio ut non nominatim sed generatim proscriptio esset informata, ut iam omnium iudicio constitutum esset omnium vestrum bona praedam esse illius victoriae. vestrum plane dico; numquam enim de te ipso nisi crudelissime cogitatum est. qua re voluntatis me meae numquam paenitebit, consili paenitet. in oppido aliquo mallem resedisse quoad accerserer; minus sermonis subissem, minus accepissem doloris, ipsum hoc me non angeret. Brundisi iacere in omnis partis est molestum. propius accedere, ut suades, quo modo sine lictoribus quos populus dedit possum? qui mihi incolumi adimi non possunt. quos ego †non† paulisper cum bacillis in turbam conieci ad oppidum accedens ne quis impetus militum fieret. † recipio tempore me domo te nunc†.
I have written to Oppius and Balbus to consider in what manner exactly they think I should come closer. I expect they will support it. So at any rate they undertake: that Caesar will make it his care not only to preserve my standing but even to increase it, and they urge me to be of great heart, to hope for everything of the highest order. These things they pledge, they confirm. They would, indeed, be more settled in my mind, if I had stayed put. But I am dwelling on what is past; consider, please, what is still to come, and inquire of those men, and, if you think it useful and if it is agreeable to them — the better for Caesar to approve my action as taken on the recommendation of his own circle — let Trebonius and Pansa be brought in, and any others, and let them write to Caesar that whatever I have done I did on their advice.
ad Oppium et Balbum scripsi et quonam iis placeret modo propius accedere ut hac de re considerarent. credo fore auctores. sic enim recipiunt, Caesari non modo de conservanda sed etiam de augenda mea dignitate curae fore, meque hortantur ut magno animo sim, ut omnia summa sperem. ea spondent, confirmant. quae quidem mihi exploratiora essent, si remansissem. sed ingero praeterita; vide, quaeso, igitur ea quae restant et explora cum istis et, si putabis opus esse et si istis placebit, quo magis factum nostrum Caesar probet quasi de suorum sententia factum, adhibeantur Trebonius, Pansa, si qui alii, scribantque ad Caesarem me quicquid fecerim de sua sententia fecisse.
My Tullia’s illness, and the weakness of her body, leave me undone. I understand it is a great concern of yours too, which is most welcome to me.
Tulliae meae morbus et imbecillitas corporis me exanimat. quam tibi intellego magnae curae esse, quod est mihi gratissimum.
About Pompey’s end I never had a doubt. Such utter despair of his cause had taken hold of every king and people that, wherever he had come, this is what I expected would happen. I cannot but grieve for his fall: I knew the man for one of integrity, purity, and weight.
de Pompei exitu mihi dubium numquam fuit. tanta enim desperatio rerum eius omnium regum et populorum animos occuparat ut quocumque venisset hoc putarem futurum. non possum eius casum non dolere; hominem enim integrum et castum et gravem cognovi.
Am I to console you about Fannius? He was talking ruinously about your remaining in Italy. Lucius Lentulus, indeed, had pledged to himself Hortensius’s house, Caesar’s gardens, and Baiae. On the whole, the same sort of thing is going on from this side too — except that the other was without limit: for everyone who had stayed in Italy was being reckoned in the number of the enemy. But I should prefer to take this up some other time, in a more easy state of mind. My brother Quintus, I hear, has set out for Asia to plead his case. Of my nephew I have heard nothing; but ask Diochares, Caesar’s freedman — I have not seen him — the man who brought those letters from Alexandria. He is said to have seen Quintus on the road, or already in Asia. Your letters I await, as the situation demands; please see that they are brought to me as soon as possible. The fourth day before the Kalends of December.
de Fannio consoler te? perniciosa loquebatur de mansione tua. L. vero Lentulus Hortensi domum sibi et Caesaris hortos et Baias desponderat. omnino haec eodem modo ex hac parte fiunt, nisi quod illud erat infinitum. omnes enim qui in Italia manserant hostium numero habebantur. sed velim haec aliquando solutiore animo. Quintum fratrem audio profectum in Asiam ut deprecaretur. de filio nihil audivi; sed quaere ex Diochare Caesaris liberto quem ego non vidi, qui istas Alexandrea litteras attulit. is dicitur vidisse Quintum euntem an iam in Asia. tuas litteras prout res postulat exspecto. quas velim cures quam primum ad me perferendas. iiii K. Decembr.

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