Ad Familiares 9.16
Ad Familiares 9.16
Headnote
Cicero to L. Papirius Paetus, written at the Tusculan villa not later than the middle of Quintilis (July) 46 BC — Perseus: in Tusculano non post med.~m.~Quint.~a.~708 (46). The letter sits with 9.18 and 9.20 at the heart of the great Paetus correspondence of mid-46 BC. Paetus has written twice in identical terms, alarmed at something a certain Silius had said: that Cicero is being talked about, that the wit of his after-dinner conversation is being carried back to Caesar, that he is in some kind of danger of the new regime’s displeasure. The letter is the long, magnificent, and almost wholly witty answer.
It moves in three blocks. First (sections 1–6), the political reply: Cicero has cultivated Caesar’s intimates with what art a man can muster in this kind of weather (non enim iam satis est consilio pugnare; artificium quoddam excogitandum est — it is no longer enough to fight by strategy, some kind of artifice has to be devised); Caesar himself is a man of acute literary judgement who has had volumes of apophthegmata compiled and rejects on sight any bon mot brought to him as Cicero’s that is not; the Oenomaus of Accius which Paetus had quoted (some verse on invidia) can therefore be set aside, since the wave that envy makes can be broken on Cicero’s rock just as readily as on the wise Greeks’ who endured regna at Athens or Syracuse. Second (sections 7–9), the comic centrepiece: Paetus has followed his Accius not with old-fashioned Atellan farce but, in the modern manner, with mime, complete with a daggered popillius and denarius and a dish of tyrotarichum (cheese with salt-fish, a poor man’s casserole); Cicero parries by claiming the new refinement of his dinner-table — Hirtius and Dolabella are his pupils in oratory and his masters in dining, declaiming at his house and dining at theirs — and threatens that when he arrives in the country Paetus will not dare set before him a polypus to match a red-leaded Jupiter, the standard cheap-octopus joke matched to the red-lead-painted statue of Capitoline Jupiter. The appetizer course Cicero has done away with: he used to be done in by Paetus’s olives and Lucanian sausages before the main course got its start. The closing exchange (10) dismisses the Selician villa with the perfect Paetan epigram: salis enim satis est, sannionum parum — salt there is enough, clowns too few. The letter is the project’s clearest case of Cicero deliberately slumming into low diction with a friend who is exactly the right audience for it; the political and the gastronomic register share the same chiastic neatness, and the joke timing carries the seriousness.
Your letter gave me delight, and in it the first thing I loved was your love — which had prompted you to write because you were afraid Silius’s message might have brought me some worry. About that you had already written to me before, and twice indeed in identical terms, so that I could easily tell you were agitated, and I had written back with care, so as in such a matter and at such a time either to free you from that anxiety or at any rate to lighten it.
delectarunt me tuae litterae, in quibus primum amavi amorem tuum, qui te ad scribendum incitavit verentem ne Silius suo nuntio aliquid mihi sollicitudinis attulisset; de quo et tu mihi antea scripseras bis quidem eodem exemplo, facile ut intellegerem te esse commotum, et ego tibi accurate rescripseram, ut quo modo in tali re atque tempore aut liberarem te ista cura aut certe levarem.
But since in your most recent letter as well you show how much the business weighs on you, hold this for certain, my Paetus: whatever could be done by art (for it is no longer enough to fight by strategy — some species of artifice has to be devised), whatever could be worked out or carried through toward winning over and gathering in the goodwill of those people, I have pursued with the utmost zeal, and not, as I think, in vain; for I am so courted, so attended to, by all those who are loved by Caesar, that I suppose I am loved by them. Now true love and feigned love are not easily told apart, except when some moment of the right kind comes along, by which, as gold by fire, loyal goodwill can be tested by some peril. Other signs are signs in common, but I myself use one argument why I judge that I am loved truly and from the heart: it is that our position and theirs are such that they would have no reason to pretend.
sed quoniam proximis quoque litteris ostendis quantae tibi curae sit ea res, sic, mi Paete, habeto, quicquid arte fieri potuerit (non enim iam satis est consilio pugnare; artificium quoddam excogitandum est), sed tamen, quicquid elaborari aut effici potuerit ad istorum benevolentiam conciliandam et conligendam, summo studio me consecutum esse, nec frustra, ut arbitror; sic enim color, sic observor ab omnibus iis, qui a Caesare diliguntur, ut ab iis me amari putem; nam etsi non facile diiudicatur amor verus et fictus, nisi aliquod incidit eius modi tempus, ut quasi aurum igni sic benevolentia fidelis periculo aliquo perspici possit; cetera sunt signa communia, sed ego’ uno utor argumento quam ob rem me ex animo vereque arbitrer diligi, quia et nostra fortuna ea est et illorum ut simulandi causa non sit.
As for the man in whose hand all power lies, I see nothing to fear from him — except that all things are uncertain once law has been departed from, and nothing can be guaranteed as to what shape it will take, given that it rests on another’s will, not to say his whim. Yet so far as he is concerned, his temper has been roused against me on no point; for in this very matter the greatest moderation has been used by me. As I once held that free speech belonged to me, by whose effort freedom existed in the state, so now that freedom is lost I hold that I should say nothing to offend either his will or that of those he loves. But if I wanted to escape the reputation of certain sharp or witty sayings, I should have to throw away my reputation for talent; and that, if I could do it, I would not refuse.
de illo autem, quem penes est omnis potestas, nihil video quod timeam, nisi quod omnia sunt incerta, cum a iure discessum est, nec praestari quicquam potest quale futurum sit, quod positum est in alterius voluntate, ne dicam libidine. sed tamen eius ipsius nulla re a me offensus est animus; est enim adhibita in ea re ipsa summa a nobis moderatio. ut enim olim arbitrabar esse meum libere loqui, cuius opera esset in civitate libertas, sic ea nunc amissa nihil loqui quod offendat aut illius aut eorum, qui ab illo diliguntur, voluntatem. effugere autem si velim non nullorum acute aut facete dictorum opinionem, fama ingeni mihi sit abicienda; quod si id possem, non recusarem.
But for all that, Caesar himself has very acute judgement, and just as your brother Servius — whom I count as the most lettered of men — could readily say “This verse is not Plautus’s, this one is,” because he had a worn ear for marking the classes of poets and from habitual reading, so I am told that Caesar, now that he has compiled whole volumes of sayings apophthegmaton, makes a point of rejecting any that is brought to him as mine and is not. He does this all the more now, because his intimates live with me almost daily; and many things crop up in casual talk that perhaps strike them, when I have said them, as neither unlearned nor flat, and these are conveyed to him along with the rest of the day’s business — for that is what he himself directed. So it falls out that if he hears anything besides about me, he reckons it not worth hearing. For which reason I am making no use of your Oenomaus — though you placed the lines of Accius well.
sed tamen ipse Caesar habet peracre iudicium, et, ut Servius, frater tuus, quem litteratissimum fuisse iudico, facile diceret: ’ hic versus Plauti non est, hic est,’ quod tritas auris haberet notandis generibus poetarum et consuetudine legendi, sic audio Caesarem, cum volumina iam confecerit a)pofqegma/twn, si quod adferatur ad eum pro meo quod meum non sit reicere solere; quod eo nunc magis facit, quia vivunt mecum fere cotidie illius familiares. incidunt autem in sermone vario multa, quae fortasse illis, cum dixi, nec inlitterata nec insulsa esse videantur; haec ad illum cum reliquis actis perferuntur; ita enim ipse mandavit. sic fit ut, si quid praeterea de me audiat, non audiendum putet. quam ob rem Oenomao tuo nihil utor; etsi posuisti loco versus Accianos.
But what is this “envy,” and what is there now in me for anyone to envy? Yet grant it is all so. I see that this is the view of those philosophers who alone, as it seems to me, grasp the power of virtue: that the wise man has no warrant to give for anything but his own fault. From this I think I am twice clear — both because I held the views that were most upright, and because, when I saw that there was not protection enough to hold them, I judged I should not contend in force with stronger men. So in the duty of the good citizen I am at any rate not to be blamed. What remains is that I should say nothing or do nothing rashly, nothing stupidly, against the powerful. That too I count as part of the wise man’s part. As for the rest — what anyone says I have said, or how he takes it, or with what loyalty those who assiduously court and attend on me live with me — I cannot stand surety for that.
sed quae est ’invidia,’ aut quid mihi nunc invideri potest? verum fa,c esse omnia; sic video philosophis placuisse iis, qui mihi soli videntur vim virtutis tenere, nihil esse sapientis praestare nisi culpam. qua mihi videor dupliciter carere, et quod ea senserim quae rectissima fuerunt, et quod, cum viderem praesidi non satis esse ad ea obtinenda, viribus certandum cum valentioribus non putarim. ergo in officio boni civis certe non sum reprehendendus. reliquum est ne quid stulte, ne quid temere dicam aut faciam contra potentis. id quoque puto esse sapientis. cetera vero, quid quisque me dixisse dicat, aut quo modo ille accipiat, aut qua fide mecum vivant ii qui me assidue colunt et observant, praestare non possum.
So it falls out that I console myself both by the consciousness of my earlier counsels and by the moderation of the present, and transfer that simile from Accius not just now to “envy” but to fortune — which I judge a light and feeble thing, and which by a firm and grave mind ought to be broken “like a wave against a rock.” Indeed when the records of the Greeks are full of how the wisest men bore monarchy at Athens or at Syracuse — being themselves in a manner of speaking free though their cities were enslaved — shall I not think that I can hold my own ground in such a way as neither to offend any man’s mind nor to break my own dignity?
ita fit ut et consiliorum superiorum conscientia et praesentis temporis moderatione me consoler et illam Acci similitudinem non modo iam ad ’invidiam,’ sed ad fortunam transferam, quam existimo levem et imbecillam ab animo firmo et gravi ’tamquam fluctum a saxo frangi’ oportere. etenim cum plena sint monumenta Graecorum quem ad modum sapientissimi viri regna tulerint vel Athenis vel Syracusis, cum servientibus suis civitatibus fuerint ipsi quodam modo liberi, ego me non putem tueri meum statum sic posse ut neque offendam animum cuiusquam nec frangam dignitatem meam?
Now I come to your jokes, since following the Oenomaus of Accius you brought on not, as it used to be, an Atellan farce, but, as the fashion now goes, a mime. What is this \textdaggerpopillius\textdagger you tell me of, what \textdaggerdenarius\textdagger, what dish of cheese-and-salt-fish? Such things were borne with by my easy nature once; now the case is altered. Hirtius and Dolabella I have as pupils in speaking, masters in dining; for I imagine you have heard — if everything is reported up to your part of the country — that they declaim at my house, I dine at theirs. Now as for your forswearing solvency to me, that is no good; for once, when you had means, your little ventures kept you on your toes, but now, when you are so equably parting with your goods, do not be of the mind that, when you take me in as a guest, you will think you are receiving some property valuation — and even that is the lighter blow when it comes from a friend than from a debtor.
nunc venio ad iocationes tuas, quoniam tu secundum Oenomaum Acci non, ut olim solebat, Atellanam sed, ut nunc fit, mimum introduxisti. quem tu mihi †popillium, quem †denarium narras, quam tyrotarichi patinam? facilitate mea ista ferebantur antea; nunc mutata res est. Hirtium ego et Dolabellam dicendi discipulos habeo, cenandi magistros; puto enim te audisse, si forte ad vos omnia perferuntur, illos apud me declamitare, me apud illos cenitare. tu autem quod mihi bonam copiam eiures nihil est; tum enim, cum rem habebas, quaesticulis te faciebat attentiorem, nunc, cum tam aequo animo bona perdas, † non eo sis consilio, ut, cum me bospitio recipias, aestimationem te aliquam putes accipere; etiam haec levior est plaga ab amico quam a debitore.
Nor, for all that, am I after the kind of dinner that leaves great leftovers; let what there is be sumptuous and elegant. I remember your telling me about Phamea’s dinner. “Let it be earlier,” you said; for the rest, the same way. And if you persist in calling me back to your mother’s dinner, I shall bear that too — for I want to see the spirit that dares to set in front of me the things you describe, or indeed an octopus to match a red-leaded Jupiter. Believe me, you will not dare; before I arrive, the report of my new elegance will reach you, and you will quail at it. Nor is there any reason to pin some hope on the appetizer course; the whole of that I have done away with, for I used to be done in beforehand by your olives and your Lucanian sausages.
nec tamen eas cenas quaero, ut magnae reliquiae fiant; quod erit, magnificum sit et lautum. memini te mihi Phameae cenam narrare. Temperius’ fiat, cetera eodem modo. quod si perseveras me ad matris tuae cenam revocare, feram id quoque; volo enim videre animum qui mihi audeat ista, quae scribis, apponere aut etiam polypum miniati Iovis similem. mihi crede, non audebis; ante meum adventum fama ad te de mea nova lautitia veniet; eam tu extimesces. neque est quod in promulside spei ponas aliquid; quam totam sustuli; solebam enim antea debilitari oleis et lucanicis tuis.
But why are we talking like this? Only let me get out there. As for you — for I do want to wipe away your apprehension of mind — go back to your good old cheese-and-salt-fish. The one expense I shall bring you is that you will have to heat the bath; for the rest, our usual way. The earlier talk was play.
sed quid haec loquimur? liceat modo isto venire. tu vero (volo enim abstergere animi tui metum) ad tyrotarichum antiquum redi. ego tibi unum sumptum adferam, quod balneum calfacias oportebit; cetera more nostro. superiora illa lusimus.
About the Selician villa, you both saw to the matter diligently and wrote about it most amusingly; and so I think I shall pass it over. Salt there is enough; clowns, too few.
de villa Seliciana et curasti diligenter et scripsisti facetissime; itaque puto me praetermissurum; salis enim satis est, sannionum parum.