Letter · 10 May 45 BC · Asturae

Ad Atticum 12.42

Ad Atticum 12.42

Headnote

Cicero to Atticus, written from Astura on the sixth day before the Ides of May 709 AUC — 10 May 45 BC (the manuscript dateline: Scr.\ Asturae vi Id.\ Mai.\ a.\ 709 (45)). One of the most self-conscious notes in the sequence on the rhythm of the daily correspondence itself. Cicero had not missed Atticus’ letter on the sixth before the Ides — he understood there was nothing to say, and he had supposed Atticus was away from Rome — but he insists nonetheless on sending almost daily, so that Atticus is never without a courier. The empty letter, when it came, was not unwelcome: simply knowing nothing was new with Atticus was something. The figure is touching and characteristic of the Astura months — the daily transit of letters is the structure that keeps the grief held.

The shrine and gardens project recurs in the abrupt section break (the manuscripts split mid-sentence at secundum / Othonem): next after Otho, nothing pleases Cicero more than Clodia’s place, but he does not think Clodia will sell — she is fond of the property and is well off — and the other affair (the Scapula heirs) remains as difficult as Atticus knows. The closing section signals Cicero’s first stirring away from Astura: he intends to leave the day after the Ides, either for the Tusculanum or for the house in Rome, and perhaps from there to Arpinum. The move will come on 16 May.

I did not feel the want of any day’s letter from you. For I saw what you write, and yet I suspected — or rather understood — that there was nothing to write of; and on the sixth day before the Ides I supposed you were away and saw plainly that you had nothing. Still I shall send to you almost every day; for I would rather send in vain than have you with no one to whom you may give a letter, in case there should happen to be anything you think I ought to know. So on the sixth day before the Ides I received your letter — an empty one. For what did you have to write? Yet even that, such as it was, was not unwelcome to me: if nothing else, to know that nothing was new with you. Still you wrote something or other about Clodia. Where then is she, and when is she coming? The matter pleases me in such a way that next after
nullum a te desideravi diem litterarum; videbam enim quae scribis, et tamen suspicabar vel potius intellegebam nihil fuisse quod scriberes; a. d. vi Idus vero et abesse te putabam et plane videbam nihil te habere. ego tamen ad te fere cotidie mittam; malo enim frustra quam te non habere cui des, si quid forte sit quod putes me scire oportere. itaque accepi vi Idus litteras tuas inanis. quid enim habebas quod scriberes? mi tamen illud quicquid erat non molestum fuit, ut nihil aliud, scire me novi te nihil habere. scripsisti tamen nescio quid de Clodia. ubi ergo ea est aut quando ventura? placet mihi res sic ut secundum
Otho nothing pleases me more. But I do not think this one will sell (she is taken with the place, and well off), and you have not failed to notice how hard the other business is. But, I beg of you, let us strive to think of something that will answer to what I want.
Othonem nihil magis. sed neque hanc vendituram puto (delectatur enim et copiosa est), et illud alterum quam sit difficile te non fugit. sed, obsecro, enitamur ut aliquid ad id quod cupio excogitemus.
I think I shall leave here on the day after the Ides — but either for the Tusculanum or for the house, and from there perhaps to Arpinum. When I know for certain, I shall write to you.
ego me hinc postridie id. exiturum puto sed aut in Tusculanum aut domum, inde fortasse Arpinum. cum certum sciero, scribam ad te.

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Ad Atticum 12.42

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