now the prevailing taste of our modern entertainments: on the contrary, it is that more elegant luxury I admite, which you formerly used to display when your finances were more flourishing, though your farms were not more numerous than at present. Be prepared therefore for my reception accordingly; and remember you are to entertain a man who has not only a most enormous appetite, but who has some little knowledge, let me tell you, in the science of elegant eating You know there is a peculiar air of selfsufficiency, that generally distinguishes those who enter late into the study of any art. You will not wonder, therefore, when I take upon me to inform you, that you must banish your cakes and your sweetmeats, as articles that are now utterly discarded from all fashionable bills of fare. I am become indeed such a proficient in this science, that I frequently venture to invite to my table those refined friends of yours, the delicate Verrius and Camillus. Nay I am bolder still, and have presumed to give a supper even to Hirtius himself; though, I must own, I could not advance so far as to honour him with a peacock. To tell you the truth, my honest cook had not skill enough to imitate any other part of his splendid entertainments, except only his smoking soups. But to give you a general sketch of my manner of life; I spend the first part of the morning in receiving the compliments of several, both of our dejected patriots and our gay victors: the latter of whom treat me with great marks of civility and esteem. As soon as that ceremony is over, I retire to my library; where I employ myself either with my books or my pen. And here I am sometimes surrounded by an audience, who look upon me as a man of most profound erudition, for no other reason, perhaps, than because I am not altogether so ignorant as themselves. The rest of my time I wholly devote to indulgences of a less intellectual kind. I have sufficiently indeed paid the tribute of sorrow to my unhappy country; the miseries whereof I have longer and more bitterly lamented, than ever tender mother bewailed the loss of her only son. Let me desire you, as you would secure your magazine of provisions from falling into my hands, to take care of your health; for I have most unmercifully resolved that no pretence of indisposition shall preserve your larder from my depredations. Farewel. LETTER XLIX. To Gallus. [A. U. 707.] I AM much surprised at your reproaches; as I am sure they are altogether without foundation. But were they ever so just, they would come with a very ill grace from you, who ought to have remem-, bered those marks of distinction you received from me during my consulate. It seems, however (for so you are pleased to inform me), that Cæsar will certainly restore you. I know you are never sparing of your boasts: but I know too, that they have the ill luck never to be credited. It is in the same spirit you remind me, that you offered yourself as a candidate for the tribunitial office, merely in order to serve me*. Now to shew you how much I am in your interest, I wish you were a tribune still: as in that case you could not be at a loss for an inwith not daring to speak my sentiments. tercessor. You go on to reproach me, In proof however of the contrary, I need only refer you to the reply I made, when you had the front to solicit my assistance. Thus (to let you see how absolutely impotent you are, where you most affeet to appear formidable), I thought proper to answer you in your own style. If you had made your remonstrances in the spirit of good manners, I should with pleasure, as I could with ease, have vindicated myself from your charge and in truth, it is not your conduct, but your language, that I have reason to resent. I am astonished indced that you, of all freedom, who are sensible it is by my men living, should accuse me of want of means that there is any freedom left in • Probably during Cicero's exile. ↑ Cicero's witticism in this passage, turns upon the double sense of the word intercessor: which, besides its general meaning, has relation likewise to a particular privilege annexed to the. tribunitial office. For every tribune had the liberty of interposing his negative upon the proceedings of the senate: which act was called intercessio, and the person who executed it was said to be the intercessor of the particular law, or other matter in deliberation. [A. U, 708.] I VERY particularly recommend to your favour the son of our worthy and common friend Præcilius: a youth whose modest and polite behaviour, together with his singular attachment to myself, have exceedingly endeared him to me. His father likewise, as experience has now fully convinced me, was always my 'most sincere well-wisher. For to confess the truth, he was the first and most zealous of those who used both to rally and reproach me for not joining in your cause especially after you had invited me by so many honourable overtures. But, : fore, the pompous heroics of Homer, I turn to the just maxims of Euripides, and say with that poet, Curse on the sage, who, impotently wise, O'erlooks the paths where humbler prudence lies. mirer of the sentiment in these lines; inMy old friend Præcilius is a great adsisting, that a patriot may preserve a prudential regard to his own safety, and yet, Above his peers the first in honour shine. But to return from this digression : you will greatly oblige me by extending to this young man that uncommon gecharacter; and by suffering my recomnerosity which so peculiarly marks your mendation to increase the number of those favours which I am persuaded you are disposed to confer upon him for the sake of his family. I have not addressed you in the usual style of recommendatory letters, that you might see I did not intend this as an application of common form. Farewel. LETTER LI. To Dolabella f. [A. U. 708.] OH! that the silence you so kindly regret, had been occasioned by my own death, rather than by the severe loss I have suffered ; a loss I should be better able to support, if I had you with me. For your judicious counsels, and singular affection towards me, would greatly contribute to alleviate its weight. This good office indeed I may yet perhaps receive; for as I imagine we shall soon see you here, you will find me still so deeply affected, as to have an opportunity of affording me great assistance. Not that this affliction has so broken my spirit as to render me unmindful that I am a man, or apprehensive that I must totally sink under its pressure. But all that cheerfulness and vivacity of temper, which you once so particularly admired, has now, alas! entirely forsaken me. My fortitude and resolution, nevertheless (if these virtues were ever mine), I still retain, +He was at this time with Cæsar in Spain. The death of his daughter Tullia. and retain them too in the same vigour as when you left me. As to those battles which, you tell me, you have sustained upon my account; I am far less solicitous that you should confute my detractors, than that the world should know (as it unquestionably does) that I enjoy a place in your affection: and may you still continue to render that truth conspicuous. To this request I will add another, and intreat you to excuse me for not sending you a longer letter. I shorten it, not only as imagining we shall soon meet, but because my mind is at present by no means sufficiently composed for writing. Farewel. LETTER LII. Servius Sulpicius to Cicero. [A. U. 708.] I RECEIVED the news of your daughter's death, with all the concern it so justly deserves; and indeed I cannot but consider it as a misfortune in which I bear an equal share with yourself. If I had been near you when this fatal accident happened, I should not only have mingled my tears with yours, but assisted you with all the consolation in my power. I am sensible, at the same time, that offices of this kind afford at best but a wretched relief; for as none are qualified to perform them, but those who stand near to us by the ties either of blood or affection, such persons are generally too much afflicted themselves to be capable of administering comfort to others. Nevertheless, I thought proper to suggest a few reflections which occurred to me upon this occasion: not as imagining they would be new to you, but believing that in your present discomposure of mind, they might possibly have escaped your attention. Tell me then, my friend, wherefore do you indulge this excess of sorrow? Reflect, I intreat you, in what manner fortune has dealt with every one of us; that she has deprived us of what ought to be no less dear than our children, and overwhelmed in one general ruin our honours, our liberties, and our country. And after these losses, is it possible that any other should increase our tears? Is it possible that a mind long exercised in calamities so truly severe, should not become totally callous and indifferent to every event? But you will tell me, perhaps, that your grief arises not so much on your own account, as on that of Tullia. Yet surely you must often, as well as myself, have had occasion in these wretched times to reflect, that their condition by no means deserves to be regretted, whom death has gently removed from this unhappy scene. What is there, let me ask, in the present circumstances of our country, that could have rendered life greatly desirable to your daughter? What pleasing hopes, what agreeable views, what rational satisfaction could she possibly have proposed to herself from a more extended period? Was it in the prospect of conjugal happiness in the society of some distinguished youth? as if, indeed, you could have found a son-inlaw amongst our present set of young men, worthy of being intrusted with the care of your daughter! Or was it in the expectation of being the joyful mother of a flourishing race, who might possess their patrimony with independence, who might gradually rise through the several dignities of the state, and exert the liberty to which they were born in the service and defence of their friends and country? But is there one amongst all these desirable privileges, of which we were not deprived before she was in a capacity of transmitting them to her descendants? Yet, after all, you may still allege, perhaps, that the loss of our chil dren is a severe affliction; and unquestionably it would be so, if it were not a much greater to see them live to endure those indignities which their parents suffer. I lately fell into a reflection, which as it afforded great relief to the disquietude of my own heart, it may possibly contribute likewise to assuage the anguish of yours. In my return out of Asia, as I was sailing from Ægina towards Megara*, I amused myself with contemplating the circumjacent countries. Behind me lay Ægina, before me Megara; on my right I saw Piræus †, and on my left Corinth. These cities, once so flourishing and magnificent, now pre ⚫ Ægina, now called Engia, is an island situ ated in the gulf that runs between the Pelopon nesus and Attica, to which it gives its name.- A city in the Peloponnesus. sented nothing to my view but a sad spectacle of desolation. "Alas," I said to myself, "shall such a short-lived creature as man complain, when one of his species falls either by the hand of violence, or by the common course of nature: whilst in this narrow compass so many great and glorious cities, formed for a much longer duration, thus lie extended in ruins? Remember then, oh my heart! the general lot to which man is born; and let that thought suppress thy unreasonable murmurs." Believe me, I found my mind greatly refreshed and comforted by these reflections. Let me advise you in the same manner to represent to yourself, what numbers of our illustrious countrymen have lately been cut off at once*; how much the strength of the Roman republic is impaired, and what dreadful devastation has gone forth throughout all its provinces ! And can you, with the impression of these greater calamities upon your mind, be so immoderately afflicted for the loss of a single individual, a poor, little, tender woman? who, if she had not died at this time, must in a few fleeting years more have inevitably undergone that common fate to which she was born. Reasonable, however, as these reflections are, I would call you from them a while, in order to lead your thoughts to others more peculiarly suitable to your circumstances and character. Remember then, that your daughter lived as long as life was worth possessing, that is, till liberty was no more: that she lived to see you in the illustrious offices of prætor, consul, and augur; to be married to some of the noblest youths in Romet; to be blessed with almost every valuable enjoyment; and at length to expire with the republic itself. Tell me now, what is there in this view of her fate, that could give either her or yourself just reason to complain? In fine, do not forget that you are Cicero, the wise, the philosophical Cicero, who were wont to give advice to others; nor resemble those unskilful empirics, who at the same time that they pretend to be furnished with remedies for other men's disorders, are altogether incapable of finding a cure for their own. On the contrary, apply to your private use those judicious pre . In the civil wars. To Piso, Crassipes, and Dolabella. cepts you have administered to the pub But it would be ill manners to dwell any longer upon this subject, as I should seem to question the efficacy of your own good sense. I will only add, therefore, that as we have often seen you bear prosperity in the noblest manner, and with the highest applause; shew us likewise that you are not too sensible of adversity, but know how to support it with ⚫ the same advantage to your character. In a word, let it not be said, that fortitude is the single virtue to which my friend is a stranger. As for what concerns myself, I will send you an account of the state of this province, and of what is transacting in this part of the world, as soon as I shall hear that you are sufficiently composed to receive the information. Farewel. LETTER LIII. [A. U. 708.] I JOIN with you, my dear Sulpicius, in wishing that you had been in Rome when this most severe calamity befel me. I am sensible of the advantage I should have received from your presence, and I had almost said your equal participation thoughts, by employing myself in the causes of my friends, or the business of the state: for I could no longer with any satisfaction appear either in the Forum or the Senate. In short, I justly considered myself as cut off from the benefit of all those alleviating occupations in which fortune and industry had qualified me to engage. But I considered too, that this was a deprivation which I suffered in common with yourself and some others: and whilst I was endeavouring to reconcile my mind to a patient endurance of those ills; there was one to whose tender offices I could have recourse, and in the sweetness of whose conversation I could discharge all the cares and anxiety of my heart. But this last fatal stab to my peace has torn open those wounds which seemed in some measure to have been tolerably healed. For I can now no longer lose my private sorrows in the prosperity of the commonwealth, as I was wont to dispel the unea of my grief, by having found myself somewhat more composed after I had read your letter. It furnished me indeed with arguments extremely proper to sooth the anguish of affliction; and evidently flowed from a heart that sympathised with the sorrows it endeavoured to assuage. But although I could not enjoy the benefit of your own good offices in person, I had the advantage, however, of your son's; who gave me a proof, by every tender assistance that could be contributed upon so melancholy an occasion, how much he imagined that he was acting agreeably to your sentiments, when he thus discovered the affection of his own. More pleasing instances of his friendship I have frequently received, but never any that were more obliging. As to those for which I am indebted to yourself, it is not only the force of your reasonings, and the very considerable share you take in my afflictions, that have contributed to compose my mind; it is the deference likewise which I al-siness I suffered upon the public account, ways pay to the authority of your sentiments. For knowing, as I perfectly do, the superior wisdom with which you are enlightened, I should be ashamed not to support my distresses in the manner you think I ought. I will acknowledge, nevertheless, that they sometimes almost entirely overcome me: and I am scarce able to resist the force of my grief when I reflect, that I am destitute of those consolations which attended others, whose examples I propose to my imitation. Thus Quintus Maximus lost a son of consular rank, and distinguished by many brave and illustrious actions; Lucius Paulus was deprived of two sons in the space of a single week; and your relation Gallus, together with Marcus Cato, had both of them the unhappiness to survive their respective sons, who were endowed with the highest abilities and virtues. Yet these unfortunate parents lived in times when the honours they derived from the republic might in some measure alleviate the weight of their domestic misfortunes. But as for myself, after having been stripped of those dignities you mention, and which I had acquired by the most laborious exertion of my abilities, I had one only consolation remaining: and of that I am now bereaved. I could no longer divert the disquietude of my in the happiness I received at home. Accordingly I have equally banished myself from my house, and from the public; as finding no relief in either, from the calamities I lament in both. It is this, therefore, that heightens my desire of seeing you here; as nothing can afford me a more effectual consolation than the renewal of our friendly intercourse: a happiness which I hope, and am informed indeed, that I shall shortly enjoy. Among the many reasons I have for impatiently wishing your arrival, one is, that we may previously concert together our scheme of conduct in the present conjuncture; which, however, must now be entirely accommodated to another's will. This persont, 'tis true, is a man of great abilities and generosity; and one, if I mistake not, who is by no means my enemy; and I am sure he is extremely your friend. Nevertheless it requires much consideration, I do not say in what manner we shall act with respect to public affairs, but by what methods we may best obtain his permission to retire from them. Farewel. • Cicero, upon the death of his daughter, re tired from his own house, to one belonging to Atticus, near Rome; from which, perhaps, this letter was written. + Cæsar. |