tranquillity, peace, and union of our countrymen; for which purpose I could not but reflect that both by my nature and the part I have played I was well enough suited.

If this be really the case, and if you feel any desire at all to show due consideration for my friend Pompeius, and bring him into harmony once more both with yourself and with the Republic, you will assuredly find no one better fitted for that task than I am; who have ever given pacific counsels to him, and to the Senate so soon as I found an opportunity. Since the appeal to arms not only have I not taken the smallest part in this war, but have come to the conclusion that by the war a griovous wrong is done to yourself, against whose rightful privileges, granted by special favor of the Roman people, the attacks of the spiteful and jealous were being directed. But just as at that time I not only personally supported your rightful position, but counseled everybody else to lend you their assistance, so now it is the rights of Pompeius for which I am deeply concerned; because it is now several years since I first selected you men as the objects of my most loyal devotion, with whom I would choose to be united, as I now am, in ties of the closest friendship. Consequently I have this request to make say rather I implore and beseech you with every plea that I can use-even among your weighty anxieties to allot some time to this consideration also, how I may be allowed by your kind indulgence to show myself a man of honor; one, in short, who is grateful and affectionate from the recollection of the very great kindness he once received. Even if this concerned me alone, I should still flatter myself that to me you would grant it; but in my opinion it equally concerns both your own honor and the public welfare, that I, who am one of a very small number, should still be retained in the best possible position for promoting the harmony of you two and of our fellow-countrymen.

Though I have already thanked you in the matter of Lentulus for being the preserver of a man who had once been mine, yet, for my part, on reading the letter which he has sent me, written in a spirit of the warmest gratitude for your liberality and kindness, I even pictured myself as owing to you the safety which you have granted to him; and if this shows you that I am of a grateful nature in his case, secure me, I entreat you, some opportunity of showing myself no less so in the case of Pompeius.

FROM CICERO AT FORMIE TO ATTICUS AT ROME,
MARCH 26, B.C. 49.

[Pompeius having finally escaped from Brundisium, Cæsar was now returning to Rome by way of Capua and Sinuessa. From the former place he sent the letter here enclosed to Atticus, in answer to one from Cicero expressing admiration of his clemency at Corfinium.]

Though I have nothing to write to you about, I send this letter that I may leave no day without one. It is reported that Cæsar will stop on the 27th at Sinuessa. I now - the 26th have received a letter from him, wherein this time he "hopes to avail himself of my means of assistance," not merely my "assistance," as in the previous one. In answer to a letter to express my admiration of the generosity he showed at Corfinium, he replied as follows:

Copy of Caesar's Letter.

You know me too well not to keep up your character as an augur by divining that nothing is more entirely alien from my nature than cruelty: I will add that while my decision is in itself a great source of pleasure to me, to find my conduct approved by you is a triumph of gratification. Nor does the fact at all disturb me that those people whom I have set at liberty are reported to have gone their ways only to renew the attack upon me; because there is nothing I wish more than that I may ever be as true to my own character as they to theirs.

May I hope that you will be near town when I am there, so that I may as usual avail myself in everything of your advice and means of assistance? Let me assure you that I am charmed beyond everything with your relation Dolabella, to whom I shall acknowledge myself indeed indebted for this obligation; for his kindliness is so great, and his feeling and affection for me are such, that he cannot possibly do otherwise.

FROM MARCUS ANTONIUS TO CICERO, MAY 1 (?), B.c. 49.

But that I have a strong affection for you-much greater indeed than you suppose-I should not have been greatly alarmed at the rumor which has been published about you, particularly as I took it to be a false one: but my liking for

you is far too great to allow me to pretend that even the report, however false, is not to me a matter of great concern. That you will really go across seas I cannot believe when I think of the deep regard you entertain for Dolabella and his admirable wife, your daughter Tullia, and of the equal regard in which you yourself are held by us all, to whom, upon my word and honor, your name and position are perhaps dearer than they are to yourself. Nevertheless I did not think myself at liberty as a friend to be indifferent to the remarks even of unscrupulous people; and I have been the more eager to act because I hold that the part I have to play has been made more difficult by the coolness between us, which originated more in jealousy on my part than in any injury on yours. For I beg you will thoroughly assure yourself of this, that there is no one for whom my affection is greater than for yourself, with the exception of my dear friend Cæsar; and that among Cæsar's most honored friends a place is reserved for Marcus Cicero.

Therefore, my dear Cicero, I entreat you to keep your future action entirely open: reject the spurious honor of a man who did you a great wrong that he might afterward lay you under an obligation: do not, on the other hand, fly from one who, even if he shall lose his love for you and that can never be the case- will none the less make it his study that

should you be secure and rich in honors. I have been careful to send Calpurnius, who is my most intimate friend, to you, to let you know that your life and high position are to me a matter of deep concern.

[On the same day Philotimus brought a letter from Cæsar, of which this is a copy.]

FROM CÆSAR TO CICERO, APRIL 16, B.C. 49.

Though I had fully made up my mind that you would do nothing rashly, nothing imprudently, still I was so far impressed by the rumors in some quarters as to think it my duty to write to you, and ask it as a favor due to our mutual regard that you will not take any step, now that the scale is so decisively turned, which you would not have thought it necessary to take even though the balance still stood firm. For it will really be both a heavier blow to our friendship, and a step

on your part still less judicious for yourself, if you are to be thought not even to have bowed the knee to success - for things seem to have fallen out as entirely favorably for us as disastrously for them, nor yet to have been drawn by attachment to a particular cause- for that has undergone no change since you decided to remain aloof from their counsels, but to have passed a stern judgment on some act of mine, than which, from you, no more painful thing could befall me; and I claim the right of our friendship to entreat that you will not take this course.

Finally, what more suitable part is there for a good, peaceloving man, and good citizen, than to keep aloof from civil dissensions? There were not a few who admired this course, but could not adopt it by reason of its danger: you, after having duly weighed both the conclusions of friendship and the unmistakable evidence of my whole life, will find that there is no safer nor more honorable course than to keep entirely aloof from the struggle.

I am writing this while on the march, April 16.

FROM SERVIUS SULPICIUS RUFUS AT ATHENS TO CICERO AT ROME APRIL (?), B.C. 45.

On the Death of His Daughter.

For some time after I had received the information of the death of your daughter Tullia you may be sure that I bore it sadly and heavily, as much indeed as was right for me. I felt that I shared that terrible loss with you; and that had I but been where you are, you on your part would not have found me neglectful, and I on mine should not have failed to come to you and tell you myself how deeply grieved I am. And though it is true that consolations of this nature are painful and distressing, because those [dear friends and relations] upon whom the task naturally devolves are themselves afflicted with a similar burden, and incapable even of attempting it without many tears, so that one would rather suppose them in need of the consolations of others for themselves than capable of doing this kind office to others, yet nevertheless I have decided to write to you briefly such reflections as have occurred to me on the present occasion; not that I imagine them to be ignored

by you, but because it is possible that you may be hindered by your sorrow from seeing them as clearly as usual.

What reason is there why you should allow the private grief which has befallen you to distress you so terribly? Recollect how fortune has hitherto dealt with us: how we have been bereft of all that ought to be no less dear to men than their own children- of country, position, rank, and every honorable office. If one more burden has now been laid upon you, could any addition be made to your pain? Or is there any heart that having been trained in the school of such events ought not now to be steeled by use against emotion, and think everything after them to be comparatively light?

Or it is for her sake, I suppose, that you are grieving? How many times must you have arrived at the same conclusion as that into which I too have frequently fallen, that in these days theirs is not the hardest lot who are permitted painlessly to exchange their life for the grave! Now what was there at the present time that could attach her very strongly to life? what hope? what fruition? what consolation for the soul? The prospect of a wedded life with a husband chosen from our young men of rank? Truly, one would think it was always in your power to choose a son-in-law of a position suitable to your rank out of our young men, one to whose keeping you would feel you could safely entrust the happiness of a child! Or that of being a joyful mother of children, who would be happy in seeing them succeeding in life; able by their own exertions to maintain in its integrity all that was bequeathed them by their father; intending gradually to rise to all the highest offices of the state; and to use that liberty to which they were born for the good of their country and the service of their friends? Is there any one of these things that has not been taken away before it was given? But surely it is hard to give up one's children? It is hard; but this is harder still that they should bear and suffer what we are doing.

A circumstance which was such as to afford me no light consolation I cannot but mention to you, in the hope that it may be allowed to contribute equally toward mitigating your grief. As I was returning from Asia, when sailing from Ægina in the direction of Megara, I began to look around me at the various places by which I was surrounded. Behind me was Ægina, in front Megara; on the right, the Piræus, on the left,