Letter · 6 August 47 BC · Brundisi

Ad Atticum 11.24

Ad Atticum 11.24

Headnote

Cicero to Atticus, written from Brundisium on the eighth day before the Ides of Sextilis 47 BC — 6 August (the manuscript dateline: Scr.\ Brundisi viii Id.\ Sext.\ a.\ 707 (47)). A longer, denser letter in five sections, opening on a now-familiar register: Atticus has written, both to Cicero and (in another letter) to Tullia, about Cicero’s state, and Cicero concedes that everything Atticus says is true. The sharpest line in the opening is the bitter generalisation that, after a grievous injury, he is not even permitted to be angry — nor even to grieve — without paying for it. The fault, he says, has been so contracted that “in every condition and under every regime it appears to be heading toward our ruin.”

The middle three sections are confidential household work — so much so that Cicero switches from a secretary to his own hand at the head of 2. He returns to the question of Tullia’s testamentary position: Dolabella, he believes, has not bothered to think about it, but Atticus, since the subject has opened, can warn her to entrust the will to someone out of the war’s reach (Cicero would prefer Atticus himself). Other property must be set aside and concealed against the impending crash. 3 is an inventory of Terentia’s small treacheries: a remittance of ten thousand sesterces where she had promised twelve — “when she has filched so small a sum out of so small a sum, you see clearly what she has done in the great affair.” 4 is the failure of Philotimus, who has been seen at Ephesus pursuing his own litigation and cannot be bothered to send word. Cicero closes 5 with a flat refusal of Atticus’s consolations: he will not adapt his face and voice to the times, because nothing in his life now depends on doing so, and he sees no ground at all for the hopes Atticus is pinning on Caesar’s African campaign. Two short cruxes in 1 and 2 are preserved as \ markers.

What you wrote to me some time ago, and what you also wrote at the same time\ about myself to Tullia, I feel is true. I am the more wretched on that account, though it seemed nothing could be added to my misery, in that, after suffering the gravest injury, I am not allowed even to be angry, indeed not even to grieve, without paying for it. So this we must bear. And when we have borne it, the same things remain to be endured against which you warn us to take care. The fault we have brought on ourselves is such that in every condition and under every regime it appears to be heading toward our ruin.
quae dudum ad me et quae etiam †ad me visat† Tulliam de me scripsisti, ea sentio esse vera. eo sum miserior, etsi nihil videbatur addi posse, quod mihi non modo irasci gravissima iniuria accepta sed ne dolere quidem impune licet. qua re istuc feramus. quod cum tulerimus, tamen eadem erunt perpetienda quae tu ne accidant ut caveamus mones. ea enim est a nobis contracta culpa ut omni statu omnique populo exitum habitura videatur.
But I come now to my own hand, since these things must be transacted more secretly. Look, please, even now to the will — the one made when she had begun to complain.\ I do not suppose it occurred to him; for he did not even ask — not even me. But as though that were the case, since you have now broached the subject, you will be able to warn her to commit it to someone whose fortune is out of reach of this war’s danger. For my part, I should most prefer you, if she should wish the same. I keep from her, poor thing, that I am afraid of this. As to the other property, I know that nothing can be sold at present, but things can be set aside and concealed so as to lie outside the ruin that is hanging over us.
sed ad meam manum redeo, erunt enim haec occultius agenda. vide, quaeso, etiam nunc de testamento, quod tum factum cum illa †querere† coeperat. non, credo, te commovit; neque enim rogavit ne me quidem. sed quasi ita sit, quoniam in sermonem iam venisti, poteris eam monere ut aliquoi committat cuius extra periculum huius belli fortuna sit. equidem tibi potissimum velim, si idem illa vellet. quam quidem celo miseram me hoc timere. de illo altero scio equidem venire nunc nil posse sed seponi et occultari possunt ut extra ruinam sint eam quae impendet.
As for what you write — that we shall have our own provided, both yours and Terentia’s — yours, I do not doubt; what of ours can there be? About Terentia, in fact (I pass over the rest, which is past numbering), what can be added to this? You had written that I should have a draft on the bank for twelve thousand sesterces; that was, you said, what remained of the silver-money. She sent me ten thousand, with a note that this was the whole remainder. When she has filched so small a sum out of so small a sum, you see clearly what she has done in the great affair.
nam quod scribis nobis nostra et tua et Terentiae fore parata, tua credo, nostra quae poterunt esse? de Terentia autem (mitto cetera quae sunt innumerabilia) quid ad hoc addi potest? scripseras ut HS X_I_I_ permutarem; tantum esse reliquum de argento. misit illa CCIↃↃ mihi et adscripsit tantum esse reliquum. cum hoc tam parvum de parvo detraxerit, perspicis quid in maxima re fecerit.
Philotimus has not only failed to arrive, but does not even by letter or by messenger let me know what he has done. People coming from Ephesus report having seen him there going into court over his own disputes — which (this is the likely thing) are perhaps being put off until Caesar arrives. So either I suppose he has nothing he thinks worth forwarding to me in haste, or my position is so utterly despised that, even if he has something, he does not trouble to send it to me except when all his own business is finished. Of this I take great pain, certainly, but not as much as I seem bound to take. For I think nothing is of less concern to me than what may be coming from there. Why this is so, I am quite sure you understand.
Philotimus non modo nullus venit sed ne per litteras quidem aut per nuntium certiorem facit me quid egerit. Epheso qui veniunt ibi se eum de suis controversiis in ius adeuntem vidisse nuntiant; quae quidem (ita enim veri simile est) in adventum Caesaris fortasse reiciuntur. ita aut nihil puto eum habere quod putet ad me celerius perferendum aut adeo me in malis esse despectum ut, etiam si quid habet, id nisi omnibus suis negotiis confectis ad me referre non curet. ex quo magnum equidem capio dolorem sed non tantum quantum videor debere. nihil enim mea minus interesse puto quam quid illinc adferatur. id quam ob rem te intellegere certo scio.
As to your advice that I adapt my expression and my speech to the times — though it is hard, still I should make myself do it, if I thought there were anything in it for me. As for your writing in your letter that you think the African business can be brought to an end, I wish you would write why you think so; for nothing comes to my mind on the strength of which I should believe it possible. Still, please, if there will be anything that holds a measure of consolation, write to me; but if, as I see it, there will be nothing, write me that very fact. I, for my part, will write to you if I hear anything more quickly. Farewell. The eighth day before the Ides of Sextilis.
quod me mones de vultu et oratione ad tempus accommodanda, etsi difficile est, tamen imperarem mihi, si mea quicquam interesse putarem. quod scribis litteris putare Africanum negotium confici posse, vellem scriberes cur ita putares; mihi quidem nihil in mentem venit qua re id putem fieri posse. tu tamen velim, si quid erit quod consolationis aliquid habeat, scribas ad me; sin, ut perspicio, nihil erit, scribas id ipsum. ego ad te, si quid audiero citius, scribam. vale. viii Idus Sextil.

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