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XXVI
XXVI
To Aulus Caecina (in Exile)
Rome, September, 46 B.C.
I am afraid you may think me remiss in my attentions to you, which, in
view of our close union resulting from many mutual services and kindred
tastes, ought never to be lacking. In spite of that I fear you do find me
wanting in the matter of writing. The fact is, I would have sent you a letter
long ago and on frequent occasions, had I not, from expecting day after day to
have some better news for you, wished to fill my letter with congratulation
rather than with exhortations to courage. As it is, I shall shortly, I hope,
have to congratulate you: and so I put off that subject for a letter to
another time. But in this letter I think that your courage - which I am told
ard hope is not at all shaken - ought to be repeatedly braced by the authority
of a man, who, if not the wisest in the world, is yet the most devoted to you:
and that not with such words as I should use to console one utterly crushed
and bereft of all hope of restoration, but as to one of whose rehabilitation I
have no more doubt than I remember that you had of mine. For when those men
had driven me from the Republic, who thought that it could not fall while I
was on my feet, I remember hearing from many visitors from Asia, in which
country you then were, that you were emphatic as to my glorious and rapid
restoration. If that system, so to speak, of Tuscan augury which you had
inherited from your noble and excellent father did not deceive you, neither
will our power of divination deceive me; which I have acquired from the
writings and maxims of the greatest savants, and, as you know, by a very
diligent study of their teaching, as well as by an extensive experience in
managing public business, and from the great vicissitudes of fortune which I
have encountered. And this divination I am the more inclined to trust, from
the fact that it never once deceived me in the late troubles, in spite of
their obscurity and confusion. I would have told you what events I foretold,
were I not afraid to be thought to be making up a story after the event. Yet,
after all, I have numberless witnesses to the fact that I warned Pompey not to
form a union with Caesar, and afterwards not to sever it. By this union I saw
that the power of the senate would be broken, by its severance a civil war be
provoked. And yet I was very intimate with Caesar, and had a very great regard
for Pompey, but my advice was at once loyal to Pompey and in the best
interests of both alike. My other predictions I pass over; for I would not
have Caesar think that I gave Pompey advice, by which, if he had followed it,
Caesar himself would have now been a man of illustrious character in the state
indeed, and the first man in it, but yet not in possession of the great power
he now wields. I gave it as my opinion that he should go to Spain; and if he
had done so, there would have been no civil war at all. That Caesar should be
allowed to stand for the consulship in his absence I did not so much contend
to be constitutional, as that, since the law had been passed by the people at
the instance of Pompey himself when consul, it should be done. The pretext for
hostilities was given. What advice or remonstrance did I omit, when urging
that any peace, even the most inequitable, should be preferred to the most
righteous war? My advice was overruled, not so much by Pompey - for he was
affected by it - as by those who, relying on him as a military leader, thought
that a victory in that war would be highly conducive to their private
interests and personal ambitions. The war was begun without my taking any
active part in it; it was forcibly removed from Italy, while I remained there
as long as I could. But honour had greater weight with me than fear: I had
scruples about failing to support Pompey`s safety, when on a certain occasion
he had not failed to support mine. Accordingly, overpowered by a feeling of
duty, or by what the loyalists would say, or by a regard for my honour -
whichever you please - like Amphiaraus in the play, I went deliberately, and
fully aware of what I was doing, "to ruin full displayed before my eyes." In
this war there was not a single disaster that I did not foretell. Therefore,
since, after the manner of augurs and astrologers, I too, as a state augur,
have by my previous predictions established the credit of my prophetic power
and knowledge of divination in your eyes, my prediction will justly claim to
be believed. Well, then, the prophecy I now give you does not rest on the
flight of a bird nor the note of a bird of good omen on the left - according
to the system of our augural college - nor on the normal and audible pattering
of the corn of the sacred chickens. I have other signs to note; and if they
are not more infallible than those, yet after all they are less obscure or
misleading. Now omens as to the future are observed by me in what I may call a
twofold method: the one I deduce from Caesar himself, the other from the
nature and complexion of the political situation. Caesar`s characteristics are
these: a disposition naturally placable and clement - as delineated in your
brilliant book of "Grievances" - and a great liking also for superior talent,
such as your own. Besides this, he is relenting at the expressed wishes of a
large number of your friends, which are well-grounded and inspired by
affection, not hollow and self-seeking. Under this head the unanimous feeling
of Etruria will have great influence on him.
Why, then - you may ask - have these things as yet had no effect? Why,
because he thinks if he grants you yours, he cannot resist the applications of
numerous petitioners with whom to all appearance he has juster grounds for
anger. "What hope, then," you will say, "from an angry man?" Why, he knows
very well that he will draw deep draughts of praise from the same fountain,
from which he has been already - though sparingly - bespattered. Lastly, he is
a man very acute and farseeing: he knows very well that a man like you - far
and away the greatest noble in an important district of Italy, and in the
state at large the equal of anyone of your generation, however eminent,
whether in ability or popularity or reputation among the Roman people - cannot
much longer be debarred from taking part in public affairs. He will be
unwilling that you should, as you would sooner or later, have time to thank
for this rather than his favour.
So much for Caesar. Now I will speak of the nature of the actual
situation. There is no one so bitterly opposed to the cause, which Pompey
undertook with better intentions than provisions, as to venture to call us bad
citizens or dishonest men. On this head I am always struck with astonishment
at Caesar`s sobriety, fairness, and wisdom. He never speaks of Pompey except
in the most respectful terms. "But," you will say, "in regard to him as a
public man his actions have often been bitter enough." Those were acts of war
and victory, not of Caesar. But see with what open arms he has received us!
Cassius he has made his legate; Brutus governor of Gaul; Sulpicius of Greece;
Marcellus, with whom he was more angry than with anyone, he has restored with
the utmost consideration for his rank. To what, then, does all this tend? The
nature of things and of the political situation will not suffer, nor will any
constitutional theory - whether it remain as it is or is changed - permit
first, that the civil and personal position of all should not be alike when
the merits of their cases are the same; and, secondly, that good men and good
citizens of unblemished character should not return to a state, into which so
many have returned after having been condemned of atrocious crimes.
That is my prediction. If I had felt any doubt about it I would not have
employed it in preference to a consolation which would have easily enabled me
to support a man of spirit. It is this: If you had taken up arms for the
Republic - for so you then thought - with the full assurance of victory, you
would not deserve special commendation. But if, in view of the uncertainty
attaching to all wars, you had taken into consideration the possibility of our
being beaten, you ought not, while fully prepared to face success, to be yet
utterly unable to endure failure. I would have urged also what a consolation
the consciousness of your action, what a delightful distraction in adversity,
literature ought to be. I would have recalled to your mind the signal
disasters not only of men of old times, but of those of our own day also,
whether they were your leaders or your comrades. I would even have named many
cases of illustrious foreigners: for the recollection of what I may call a
common law and of the conditions of human existence softens grief. I would
also have explained the nature of our life here in Rome, how bewildering the
disorder, how universal the chaos: for it must needs cause less regret to be
absent from a state in disruption, than from one well-ordered. But there is
no occasion for anything of this sort. I shall soon see you, as I hope, or
rather as I clearly perceive, in enjoyment of your civil rights. Meanwhile, to
you in your absence, as also to your son who is here - the express image of
your soul and person, and a man of unsurpassable firmness and excellence - I
have long ere this both promised and tendered practically my zeal, duty,
exertions, and labours: all the more so now that Caesar daily receives me with
more open arms, while his intimate friends distinguish me above everyone. Any
influence or favour I may gain with him I will employ in your service. Be
sure, for your part, to support yourself not only with courage, but also with
the brightest hopes.
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