Letter · 14 May 47 BC · Brundisi

Ad Atticum 11.15

Ad Atticum 11.15

Headnote

Cicero to Atticus, written from Brundisium on the day before the Ides of May 47 BC — 14 May (the manuscript dateline: Scr.\ Brundisi prid.\ Id.\ Mai.\ a.\ 707 (47)). The colophon at the end of the letter (Pr.\ Idus Maias) confirms the date. Atticus has explained, in good faith, why he cannot come down to Brundisium just now; Cicero accepts the reasons but presses the question that they leave hanging — what is he himself to do? The geopolitical map he sketches in 1 is the whole of his predicament. Caesar is bogged down in the Alexandrine war and apparently too embarrassed even to write home about it; the Pompeians from Africa look poised to come over; the men of the Achaian party are about to leave Asia, either for Africa to join them or for some neutral place. Cicero, with perhaps one other man, has nowhere to go: no return to the Pompeians, no real hope from the Caesarians.

The middle of the letter is the most exposed self-accusation in Book 11. Quintus has written again, more bitterly than before, and Quintus’s son with an extraordinary hatred; every evil, Cicero says, that can be invented is pressing him. But all of it is easier to bear than the pain of having done wrong — of having returned to Italy and accepted Caesar’s protection — which is at its height (maximus) and unending (aeternus). Every other man’s case, he argues, has an outlet: prisoners, the cut-off, even those who went to Fufius (Caesar’s lieutenant at Patrae) of their own free will can at worst be called timid; many more will be received back by the Pompeians on any terms they like. Only his own fault, and perhaps Laelius’s, cannot be undone — and even the small comfort of Cassius’s parallel choice has just collapsed, since Cassius is now said to have changed his plan of joining Caesar at Alexandria. The closing two sections turn back to the practical question — should he creep nearer to Rome in secret, or cross the sea? — and to the Fufidian inheritance, where Cicero suspects his coheirs are stalling because they reckon his cause is doomed. One short textual crux in 3 is preserved as a \ marker; the sense given is the most natural reading. “Aesopus’s son” is the disreputable boy of the famous tragic actor Clodius Aesopus, of whom Cicero had reluctantly taken charge.

Since you bring good reasons why I cannot see you at this present time, I beg you, consider what I ought to do. For he, it seems, has so taken Alexandria in hand that he is even ashamed to write about those matters, while the men from Africa now appear to be at hand; and the Achaian party as well are about to return either to them out of Asia, or to remain in some place that is free. What, then, do you think I ought to do? I see that the decision is hard. For I am alone, or with one other, for whom there is no return to those men either, and from these very ones no hope is held out. Even so, I should like to know what you think; and that, alongside other reasons, was why I wished, if it could be done, to see you.
quoniam iustas causas adfers quor te hoc tempore videre non possim, quaeso, cogita quid sit mihi faciendum. ille enim ita videtur Alexandream tenere ut eum scribere etiam pudeat de illis rebus, hi autem ex Africa iam adfuturi videntur, Achaici, item ex Asia redituri ad eos aut libero aliquo loco commoraturi. quid mihi igitur putas agendum? video difficile esse consilium. sum enim solus aut cum altero cui neque ad illos reditus sit neque ab his ipsis quicquam ad spem ostendatur. sed tamen scire velim quid censeas; idque erat cum aliis cur te, si fieri posset, cuperem videre.
I wrote to you before that Minucius had taken care of only twelve thousand. What remains, I should like you to see is taken care of. Quintus has written to me not only with no humble entreaty but in the bitterest terms; and his son with an extraordinary hatred. There is no evil that can be invented with which I am not pressed. Yet all of it is easier to bear than the pain of having done wrong, which is both at its height and unending. If, for that wrong, I were going to have the partners I supposed, even so the consolation would be slight. But every other man’s case has an outlet; mine has none. Some, captured, others, cut off, are not called into question over their intention — still less, of course, once they have got themselves clear and have begun to be together. And even those very men who came of their own will to Fufius can only be judged timid. There are many besides who, by whatever means they wish to take themselves back to those leaders, will be received. So you should be the less surprised that I cannot stand up against so great a pain. For mine alone, of all faults, cannot be repaired, and perhaps Laelius’s too. But how does that ease me? For they say even Gaius Cassius has changed his plan of going to Alexandria.
Minucium X_I_I_ sola curasse scripsi ad te antea. quod superest velim videas ut curetur. Quintus non modo non cum magna prece ad me sed acerbissime scripsit, filius vero mirifico odio. nihil fingi potest mali quo non urgear. omnia tamen sunt faciliora quam peccati dolor qui et maximus est et aeternus. cuius peccati si socios essem habiturus ego quos putavi, tamen esset ea consolatio tenuis. sed habet aliorum omnium ratio exitum, mea nullum. alii capti, alii interclusi non veniunt in dubium de voluntate, eo minus scilicet cum se expedierint et una esse coeperint. ii autem ipsi qui sua voluntate ad Fufium venerunt nihil possunt nisi timidi existimari. multi autem sunt qui, quocumque modo ad illos se recipere volent, recipientur. quo minus debes mirari non posse me tanto dolori resistere. solius enim meum peccatum corrigi non potest et fortasse Laeli. sed quid me id levat? nam C. quidem Cassium aiunt consilium Alexandream eundi mutavisse.
I write this to you, not to lift some of your worry, but in order to learn whether you have anything to bring to bear on what is undoing me; on top of which there is my son-in-law, and the rest of it, which I am held back from writing of by tears. Even Aesopus’s son is racking me. There is positively nothing missing to make me utterly wretched. But I come back to the first question: what do you think I should do — should I go in some secret way nearer to Rome, or cross the sea? For I cannot stay here any longer.
haec ad te scribo, non ut †quem tuam demere† sollicitudinem sed ut cognoscam ecquid tu ad ea adferas quae me conficiunt; ad quae gener accedit et cetera quae fletu reprimor ne scribam. quin etiam Aesopi filius me excruciat. prorsus nihil abest quin sim miserrimus. sed ad primum revertor quid putes faciendum, occultene aliquo propius veniendum an mare transeundum. nam hic maneri diutius non potest
On the Fufidian matter, why could nothing be concluded? For the kind of arrangement was of a sort in which there is not usually any dispute, since the share which appears to be the smaller can be filled out by bidding. I do not ask this without reason. I suspect my coheirs think our case is in doubt, and for that reason prefer to leave the matter open. Farewell. The day before the Ides of May.
de Fufidianis qua re nihil potuit confici? genus enim condicionis eius modi fuit in quo non solet esse controversia, cum ea pars quae videtur esse minor licitatione expleri posset. hoc ego non sine causa quaero. suspicor enim coheredes dubiam nostram causam putare et eo rem in integro esse malle. vale. Pr. Idus Maias.

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Ad Atticum 11.15

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