Letters of Marcus Tullius Cicero | Page 8

them to venture on this demand.
The case is scandalous, the demand a disgraceful one, and a confession
of rash speculation. Yet there was a very great risk that, if they got no
concession, they would be completely alienated from the senate. Here
again I came to the i escue more than anyone else, and secured them a
full and very friendly house, in which I, on the 1st and 2nd of
December, delivered long speeches on the dignity and harmony of the
two orders. The business is not yet settled, hut the favourable feeling of
the senate has been made manifest: for no one had spoken against it
except the consul-designate, Metellus; while our hero Cato had still to
speak, the shortness of the day having prevented his turn being reached.
Thus I, in the maintenance of my steady policy, preserve to the best of
my ability that harmony of the orders which was originally my joiner's
work; but since it all now seems in such a crazy condition, I am

constructing what I may call a road towards the maintenance of our
power, a safe one I hope, which I cannot fully describe to you in a letter,
but of which I will nevertheless give you a hint. I cultivate close
intimacy with Pompey. I foresee what you will say. I will use all
necessary precautions, and I will write another time at greater length
about my schemes for managing the Republic. You must know that
Lucceius has it in his mind to stand for the consulship at once; for there
are said to be only two candidates in prospect. Caesar is thinking of
coming to terms with him by the agency of Arrius, and Bibulus also
thinks he may effect a coalition with him by means of C. Piso. You
smile? This is no laughing matter, believe me. What else shall I write to
you? What? I have plenty to say, but must put it off to another time. If
you mean to wait till you hear, let me know. For the moment I am
satisfied with a modest request, though it is what I desire above
everything-- that you should come to Rome as soon as possible.
5 December.
V
To TERENTIA, TULLIOLA, AND YOUNG CICERO (AT ROME)
BRUNDISIUM, 29 APRIL
YES, I do write to you less often than I might, because, though I am
always wretched, yet when I write to you or read a letter from you, I am
in such floods of tears that I cannot endure it. Oh, that I had clung less
to life! I should at least never have known real sorrow, or not much of
it, in my life. Yet if fortune has reserved for me any hope of recovering
at any time any position again, I was not utterly wrong to do so: if these
miseries are to be permanent, I only wish, my dear, to see you as soon
as possible and to die in your arms, since neither gods, whom you have
worshipped with such pure devotion, nor men, whom I have ever
served, have made us any return. I have been thirteen days at
Brundisium in the house of M. Laenius Flaccus, a very excellent man,
who has despised the risk to his fortunes and civil existence in
comparison to keeping me safe, nor has been induced by the penalty of
a most iniquitous law to refuse me the rights and good offices of

hospitality and friendship. May I sometime have the opportunity of
repaying him! Feel gratitude I always shall. I set out from Brundisium
on the 29th of April, and intend going through Macedonia to Cyzicus.
What a fall! What a disaster! What can I say? Should I ask you to
come--a woman of weak health and broken spirit? Should I refrain
from asking you? Am I to be without you, then? I think the best course
is this: if there is any hope of my restoration, stay to promote it and
push the thing on: but if, as I fear, it proves hopeless, pray come to me
by any means in your power. Be sure of this, that if I have you I shall
not think myself wholly lost. But what is to become of my darling
Tullia? You must see to that now: I can think of nothing. But certainly,
however things turn out, we must do everything to promote that poor
little girl's married happiness and reputation. Again, what is my boy
Cicero to do? Let him, at any rate, be ever in my bosom and in my arms.
I can't write more. A fit of weeping hinders me. I don't know how you
have got on; whether you are left in possession of anything, or have
been, as I fear,