menu_book Chapter 3

Chapter 3 of Cicero and the Fall of the Roman Republic by J. L. Strachan Davidson. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Chapter 3 Cicero as an Advocate, Atticus, Cicero's Family, 71-67 B.C. Pompey and Cracus were not good friends, but a common interest now drew them together. Pompey claimed a triumph for his victories in Spain. The claim was irregular. Pompey had never

been a consul or praetor. He had therefore no legitimate auspices to hallow his success, and so was not properly qualified for the religious ceremonial of the triumph. In former days, the great Scipio himself had asked in vain for a triumph under similar circumstances. but Pompey had already a precedent in his own case and it was short-sighted pedantry on the part of the Senate to refuse what even Sulla had been obliged to concede. Pompey likewise demanded

that the privilege should be granted him of overstepping all the minor magistracies and being at once accepted as a candidate for the consulship. To the restrictions of age prescribed by the law, he might well reply, as Napoleon did on a like occasion. A man grows old on the field of battle, and that is where I have been. Here again the government, which might easily have won the support of Pompey, foolishly haggled over the price. The nobles had soon reason to regret

their obstinacy. The Democrats grasped the opportunity and called on Pompey to put himself at the head of the opposition. Pompey and Cracus availed themselves of the pretext of their intended triumph to march their united armies to the gates of Rome. The Senate, which had no troops available, was forced to an ignominious surrender. The necessary decrees were passed, and Pompey and Cracus were elected consuls for the year 70 on the understanding that they were to satisfy the two

great sections of the opposition. The Democrats, by the restoration of their former legal right of initiative to the tribunes, and the Knights, by placing them once more on the judicial bench. In this great assault on the constitution of Sula, Cicero naturally went with the equestrian order and took the side of Pompey and the opposition. He frankly accepted Pompey for his political leader, and the bond thus knit between them, though often subjected to severe

strain, was never wholly broken. Whether Cicero heartily approved of the restoration of the tribunate, or whether he merely acquiesced in it as part of the bargain between the factions, is uncertain. His references to the change at the time are slight, but they seem to imply satisfaction. Even in later years, when he had himself suffered from the unbridled power of a tribune, he contended, though somewhat faintly, that Pompey was justified in his policy. He urges

that, though the power of the tribune is doubtless excessive, yet the violence of the people is a force yet more savage by far and more uncontrollable, and this is sometimes under great restraint, if it has a leader than if it has none. If the leader considers that he advances at his own peril, whereas the popular impulse takes no account of danger. Pompey, he continues, was bound to have regard not only to what was most desirable, but to what was necessary. It was the

part of a wise citizen, not to leave to some pestilent demagogue the credit of a measure, which was not so very dangerous in itself, and which was too popular to be resisted. But if Cicero were dubious or neutral in respect of this portion of the program of the opposition, it was far otherwise when he dealt with the reform of the jury courts. Here he was, heart and soul, with the order from whose ranks he had sprung. He felt that it was a mere mockery of responsibility

to bring corrupt governors before a bench of their peers, who were too often their accomplices. It was easier indeed to point out the faults of the present system than to provide a remedy. Pompey's measure had the merit of settling once for all this much disputed question by a compromise which divided the juries between the orders in the proportion of one of the senatorial to two of the non-official class. But though useful in quieting the rivalry between the orders,

it is doubtful whether the new law did much to make the courts more pure or more impartial. Cicero rendered an important service to the party of reform by breaking through his usual practice of accepting briefs only for the defense, and by bringing to trial the most flagitious of all the offenders, Caius Veres, the notorious praetor of Sicily. I will not attempt even a summary of the appalling misdeeds of Vires. Every calamity which the lust, the cruelty, and the rapacity of a tyrant

could inflict on his slaves was endured for three years by the miserable Sicilians. Cicero's description of the governorship of Vires serves as a sort of high-water mark to show to what a pitch of iniquity men set above the fear of responsibility may attain when granted absolute power over a subject population. I prefer to dwell on a matter which could be treated by the orator with lighter touches. The name of Vires is perhaps best known and remembered as that of the most

inveterate pillager of all the great army of unscrupulous art collectors. Nothing which was at once beautiful and portable escaped his fingers. From the plate at the tables where he was invited to dinner, up to the most ancient image of Ceres in her native seat of Henna, which was believed to be sanctified by the very presence of the goddess herself, all was swept into his net. Sometimes he added insult to injury by compelling his victims to accept a trumpery sum as purchase

money for their ancestral heirlooms or for the tutelary gods of their cities. He appropriated even the statues which the Carthaginian conquerors in former days had carried from Sicily and which Scipio had restored as a monument of the magnanimity of Rome to their first possessors. The bases with the name of Scipio alone remained to tell the story. The historic pictures on the walls of the Temple of Pallas at Syracuse were torn from their sight. The gates of the same

temple, supposed to be the finest in the world, were stripped of their embossed gold and ivory, and their marvelous gorgon's head. Of the statue of Sappho, from the Prytanium of Syracuse, Cicero says, This gave you so fair an excuse that one is almost obliged to allow it. This masterpiece of Selenion, so perfect, so graceful, so exquisite. How should it be in the possession of any individual or of any state, saving only of our most elegant and accomplished

fairies. Any one of us, not born to such good fortune, has no business to be particular. If he wants to look at anything of the sort, let him go to the Temple of Happiness, to the Monument of Catullus, to the Portico of Metellus, or let him bestir himself to obtain admission to the suburban villa of one of you fine gentlemen, or let him content himself with the site of the forum, if Veres lends any of his treasures to the eight isles to decorate it on great occasions.

But Veres must have these things at home. Veres must have his mansion and his country seats crammed with the spoils of temples and cities. Will you bear any longer, gentlemen of the jury, with the fancies and luxuries of this clown, who by nature and education seems formed in body and mind to be the porter of works of art rather than the collector? In the meantime, the occupation of the Syracusan guides was gone. They used to take strangers round to show the art treasures of the

city. Now they could only point out the place where each had stood before the praetorship of Viries. The end of Viries is characteristic. Condemned and driven into exile, he still clung to some of his darling stolen goods. 27 years later, he was in possession of some vases, which attracted the attention of Antony, and for their sake, Viries' throat was cut in the last great prescription. Before leaving this subject, I must say a few words on Cicero's treatment

of art and art criticism. We find in his writings all the appreciation of a cultivated gentleman for painting and sculpture, and in his earlier letters to Atticus, he continually commissions his friend to purchase statues and bas-reliefs in Greece, and expresses the greatest delight in what Atticus sends him. But in this speech, in order to point the contrast against theories, he appears as the representative of the sterner and simpler of his countrymen,

who regard the newborn interest of the Romans in art as a sign of degeneracy, the lowering of the imperial race to the petty skill and effeminate tastes of the Greek or the Asiatic. The sentiment has found expression in the immortal verse of Virgil. Excudent ali, spirantia mollius ere, Credo equidem vivos ducent de memore voltus, oribun causus meleus, coelique miatus, describent radio, et surgentia sidere dicent, tu regere imperio populos romane, memento, hectibi erunt artes, pacisque imponere morem, pacere subjectis, et debelare superibos. In Cicero the affection of indifference is merely playful and is not long sustained,

but while it lasts, it is very pretty fooling and affords an excellent specimen of the menda kiukulum, or mystifications, with which, as he tells us, an advocate is permitted to season the gravity of his discourse. The following description, which comes at the very beginning of this section of the speech will give a sufficient idea of Cicero's manner. In the house of Heius, there was in the place of honor a shrine, an inheritance from his ancestors

of great antiquity, in which there were four admirable statues of the finest style of art and famous of their kind, such as might give pleasure not only to this virtuoso and connoisseur, but to any one of us, to any ignoramus, as he would say. One of these was a Cupid in marble by Praxiteles. You see that in getting up my case against Vires, I have learned the names of the artists. On the opposite side was a Hercules, excellently molded in bronze. This, unless I am

mistaken, was the work of Myron. Yes, Myron was the name, I am sure. In front of these gods were small altars, which sufficiently indicated the sanctity of the shrine, and furthermore, two bronze statues, of no great size but of exquisite beauty, in the form and dress of young girls, with the hands raised to support some sacred object, which they bore on their heads after the manner of Athenian maidens. Canephorae was what they were called, but what was the name

of the artist. Who was it? Thank you for reminding me. The artist was Polycletus. It would be absurd, of course, to take all this seriously. It is merely as playing the part of the antique and unsophisticated Roman, in which character Cicero is posing for the moment, that he must affect to have learned the names of Myron and Polycletus and Praxiteles as an incident of the getting up of his lawyer's brief. Notwithstanding the notoriety of Vires' crimes,

the nobles of the Senate seemed to have looked on him with favor. His provincial command, conferred originally for one year only, was extended for two succeeding years. The great family of the Metelli supported him both at home and in Sicily, where all the machinery of the government was set in motion to detain witnesses and to suppress evidence. Hortensius put not only his eloquence but his powerful influence at his disposal and Viery seems to have fully expected

that between influence and bribes he would be able to secure an acquittal. Those, he observed, had reason to be alarmed who had plundered only enough for themselves. He had taken so much that there was plenty for others as well. He had so ordered the three years of his Sicilian praetorship that he should do exceedingly well for himself if he put the proceeds of the first year into his own pocket, while he handed over the second to his advocate and supporters, and reserved the third,

that fattest and most lucrative year of all, entire for the jury. His chances would have been much improved if he could have put off the delivery of the verdict till after the beginning of the new year, when Hortensius would be consul with a Metellus for colleague, and another Metellus would be called to preside as Praetor at the trial. By the help of intervening festivals, he hoped to be able to spin out the trial over this date. But Cicero outwitted him by making a

very short opening speech and leaving his case to be proved by the witnesses. The evidence was so overwhelming that Beeres abandoned his defense and retired into exile. In the meantime, public opinion was running high against the corruption of the senatorial juries. If we may trust Cicero's representation, it was this which gave force to the whole attack against the constitution of Sulla. The Roman people, he says, though beset with many distresses and many anxieties,

yet seeks for no reform in the state so eagerly as for the restoration of the old firmness and the old integrity of the juries. It is because they cannot trust the courts that they clamor for the tribunician power. It is because the courts are corrupt that another rank of men is demanded for the bench. It is from the iniquity and the ill fame of the jurors that the censorship, which was once a name of dread, is now asked for, is now a popular cry, and calls forth

cheers of approbation. And again, this point did not escape that wise and eminent statesman, Quintus Catullus, who when asked his opinion in the Senate by our noble and gallant consul on the question of the Tribunician power, which was before the House, began his speech with these weighty words. That the senators have handled the courts corruptly and scandalously, and if they had been content to satisfy public opinion by their verdicts, the Roman people would not be so anxious

for the Tribunician power. Finally, Gnaeus Pompeius himself, in the first speech which he made as consul-elect before the gates of the city, when he indicated, as most people expected, that he would restore the Tribuneician power, elicited a hum and murmur of approval from his audience, but when in the course of the same speech he said, The provinces are pillaged and harried, and gross and scandalous verdicts are returned.

I hope to find a remedy for this state of things. Then the Roman people gave voice to his feelings no longer, by indistinct utterances, but by downright shouts of applause. Cicero aided this moment by publishing the full and detailed exposition of the crimes of Vires, which he would have delivered as a second speech if the trial had run its full course.

The speech is thus a political pamphlet, setting forth the misdoings of senatorial governors and the corruption of senatorial juries. The influence on opinion of Cicero's published pleadings was such as to make the orator a great power in Rome. His speeches, writes Mr. Terrell, on these circumstances with the eyes of the speaker and his party. They converted resistance

into acceptance, and warmed acceptance into enthusiasm. They provided faith with reasons, doubt with arguments, and triumph with words. Cicero was now the foremost among the advocates of Rome. Forcata had died, and Hortensius passed through a period of eclipse, from which, however, he seems to have emerged later on. This is Cicero's own account of the matter in the Brutus. After his consulship, I suppose because he saw that he was beyond comparison,

the first speaker among the consulers, and took no count of those who had not attained that dignity, Hortensius relaxed the efforts which he had exerted from his boyhood up, and being well off in every way, chose to pass his time more agreeably, as he thought, or at any rate, less laboriously. Just as the brilliancy fades from the coloring of an old picture, so the first, the second, and the third year each robbed him of something not noticeable by a casual observer,

but which an educated and discerning critic could detect. As time went on, he continued to deteriorate in his delivery, especially in readiness and sustained flow of utterance, until he became every day more unlike himself. By the time that I was made consul, six years after his own consulship, Hortensius had almost defaced himself. Then he began again to take pains, for now that he and I were equals in rank, he wished us to be equals in everything.

Thus, for 12 years following my consulship, we too were engaged in the most important cases with unbroken friendliness. I always considered him superior to myself. He put me first. The most notable case in which Cicero was engaged during the period immediately before his consulship was his defense of Caius Cornelius, who as tribune in the year 67 BC had attempted to check the practice by which the Senate granted dispensations from general laws under peculiar circumstances.

The permission to Pompey to stand for the consulship in 70 BC is one instance of the kind, and Caesar's request for a triumph in 60 BC is another. Impressing his bill through its earlier stages, Cornelius had certainly been guilty of irregularities. Still, he had not persevered in illegal courses, but had withdrawn his measure and substituted another, which was unanimously accepted, recognizing the prerogative of the Senate, but guarding against its abuse.

Nevertheless, when he went out of office, he was put on his trial for riot, and Cicero appeared as his counsel. His speech, now unhappily lost, is adduced by Quintilian as the great example of the power of fervid eloquence. In defending Cornelius, Cicero wields arms which are not only potent, but flash resplendent. If he had contended himself with instructing the jury on the merits of the case, and speaking sensibly and clearly, and in good Latin, he would never have brought the Roman

people, as he did, to utter their enthusiasm not by cheers alone, but by clapping of the hands. It was because he was lofty and majestic and splendid and overpowering that he wrung that applause from them. I fancy that those who heard him were transported and cheered because they must, not because they chose. Like men beside themselves, who had lost consciousness of where they stood, they burst forth into those expressions of delight. Cicero's reputation as an advocate

was now so great that his doors, as Plutarch tells, were thronged with clients, no less than those of Craces and Pompey, who were then the most famous persons in Rome, the one for his wealth, the other for his military renown. He adds that Pompey courted Cicero, and the support of Cicero contributed much to Pompey's power and reputation. This influence was at first exercised only indirectly, for Cicero never addressed the people, nor, so far as we know, the Senate, until after he

was elected praetor in 66 BC. At this period of his life, Cicero is, above all things, a pleader at the bar, and it will be interesting to see what are his own notions of the duty of an advocate. They are just those which the practical necessities of pleading have prescribed to modern lawyers. The advocate speaks as the representative of his client. It is not his business to weigh the case as a judge, but to put as strongly as possible those points which are in favor of his client,

and to extenuate those which make against him. It once fell to Cicero's lot to speak in defense of a man named Aulus Cluentius, who lay under strong suspicion of having bribed a jury to obtain the condemnation of his enemy. The case was a notorious one and had been referred to as such by Cicero when three years previously in his speech against Viris he was inveighing against the corruption of the courts. The counsel opposed to Cluentius took advantage of this

circumstance to claim the authority of Cicero's sentence against his own client. Cicero's argument in reply, is very much what an English barrister would plead on a similar occasion. There remains one most weighty judgment, which to my shame I was nearly forgetting to notice, for it is that of no less a person than myself. Adius read out some speech or other, which he said was mine, and appealed to a jury to give a righteous verdict, in which I refer to some

verdicts of evil fame, and amongst others to that of the court over which Junius presided, just as if I had not said myself in opening this speech that the verdict in question lay under grave imputations, or as if when I was discoursing of the corruption of the courts, I could at that time have passed over this case, which was then in everyone's mouth. If I said anything of the kind, I was not speaking from ascertained inquiry, nor was I giving evidence in the witness box,

and my remarks were such as the occasion demanded, and not to be taken from my final sentence and judgment. It is a great mistake to suppose that in our speeches, which are delivered at the bar, you have our deliberate judgments on record. All such speeches are the utterances, not so much of the counsel as of his brief and of the case. For if the case of a litigant could speak for itself, no one would employ a pleader. Now we are employed to utter, not that which we

are to lay down on our own responsibility, but that which is prompted by the requirements of the case in which we are engaged. Side by side with this passage, we may set another from the Brutus, in which Cicero's ideal of the qualities of the forensic orator is more fully set forth. To have studied more subtly than other men, that literature wherein the fountainhead of perfect eloquence is to be found. To have embraced philosophy, the mother of all good deeds and

good words. To have learned the civil law, a matter most necessary for private suits and for the technical skill of a pleader. To hold in your memory the story of Rome, whence you can summon, when need is, most authentic witnesses from the tomb, to be able shortly and neatly to turn the laugh against your antagonist, and so give some repose to the minds of the jurors, and lead them a little way from sternness to a smile, to be able to take a wider sweep and transfer the argument

from the particular man and the particular time, to the consideration of the universal principle involved, to know how to give pleasure by a slight digression, to be able to stir the soul of the juryman to anger, or to move him to tears, to carry him with you. This is the special prerogative of the orator, in whatever direction the case demands. With the year 68 BC begins the great series of Cicero's letters, but they are at first brief and scanty. It is not until after his consulship

that they become our main guide and authority for the history. This will be a good opportunity to speak of Cicero's chief friend and correspondent, Titus Pomponius Atticus. The family of Atticus had held its place for generations in the equestrian order, but unlike that of Cicero, it belonged from the first to the purely Roman stock. He was closely connected with the tribune Suplicius Rufus, who became the victim of Sulla in his first attack on Rome in the year 88.

The young Pomponius is said to have been in some danger on this occasion, but this did not deter him from aiding the flight and supplying the needs of the younger Marius, who was proscribed at the same time by Sulla. Sick of the civic bloodshed, which as he doubtless foresaw, was destined immediately to be renewed on a more horrible scale. He transferred his home and his money to Athens, where he resided for the next 23 years. On his return to Rome in the year 65, he still declined

to take any active part, either in the administration of the state or in the decision of the great issues of the time. His manhood coincided almost exactly with the period of the Civil Wars, 88 to 31 BC. Yet through them all, he claimed, and his claim was allowed, to stand neutral. It was not an exalted part to play, and such apathy is a danger to any commonwealth. Yet as he bowed his head to each new master, the victory was always a little less savage, and the humiliation

of the conquered a little less bitter, because Atticus was friend with all parties and could make his influence felt on the side of moderation. His ample wealth was husbanded by skillful management and by frugal habits of life. Cornelius Nepos tells us that to his own knowledge, Atticus's household expenses came to only 30 pounds a month. His money was always at the disposal of his friends in difficulties, and especially when the fortunes of their party

were at a low ebb. As he had aided Marius in his hour of danger, so he befriended the Pompeians, who were in need of money for their hurried flight at the beginning of the Second Civil War. He helped and protected Terentia when Cicero was in exile, and Fulvia and her children when Antony was defeated at Mutina. We have here to consider mainly his lifelong friendship with Cicero. This intimacy began when they were fellow students in youth, and it lasted to the end.

In Atticus, Cicero found the friend exactly fitted to supplement his own qualities. The warm, impulsive heart of the one sought repose in the easy-tempered, stable, appreciative nature of the other. The impestuous, indiscreet man of genius needed a calm, sympathizing, and absolutely safe companion, in whose ear he could breathe all his fears and hopes and doubts. Through all the years of their intercourse, never a word escaped through Atticus which could add to Cicero's embarrassments.

It is from this perfect confidence that the letters to Atticus derive their peculiar interest and their peculiar value. Cicero is not more likely to deceive Atticus than a patient is likely to lie to his physician. The statement of the circumstances, which he lays before his counselor, may sometimes be erroneous, but it is never willfully misleading. Cicero set the highest value on the judgment of his friend. At critical seasons, he writes to him every day, and sometimes

as much as thrice in a day. His dependence is quaintly expressed in a passage where he describes his perplexities just before the outbreak of the Civil War. Imagine the scene, the consul names me. I call on Marcus Tullius. What am I to say? Wait a little, if you please, till I can go and consult Atticus. Alas, there is no evading the question in that fashion. Moderate, sagacious, and cautious, with an onlooker's insight into the game, Atticus was admirably fitted to support and to control

the far greater intellect and finer character, but less equitable temperament of his friend. His advice is commonly towards the safe course, and he has a constitutional dislike of hazardous ventures. He particularly objected to Cicero's rash opposition to the Triumvirs in the year 56, and if his advice had been followed, Cicero would have escaped the humiliation which befell him after the conference of Luca. So in the years immediately following, Atticus counseled submission

and the acceptance of Caesar's overtures for friendship. Nevertheless, he is keenly interested not only in the safety but in the good fame of his friend. He recognizes that while the Roman knight, the man of business and of letters, may be permitted to make his own preservation and his ease the first object. A very different standard of conduct is set up for the consular. He sees that by the lofty tone of his speeches and writings, Cicero has given hostages to public

opinion, which must not be forfeited. Atticus may go out to the fifth milestone to greet Caesar, as he returns from driving Pompey from Italy, but at the same time he encourages Cicero. So to bear himself that Caesar may have cause to respect him rather than to thank him, and at all risks refused to allow himself to be dragged to Rome. Though Atticus was staggered by Pompey's desertion of Italy, and though at first he counseled neutrality with a view to

mediation of peace, yet when that hope failed, it was with his full concurrence that Cicero betook himself to Pompey's camp. Immediately after the assassination of Caesar, Atticus could see, though both Cicero and Brutus were blind to it, that whether or no Caesar's acts were to be confirmed, it was ruinous policy to allow a public funeral to his body, and that passions would thus be excited, which would be fatal to the general amnesty. And once more, one six months later,

Cicero was on the point of retiring to Greece. We find Atticus ready to brave his friend's displeasure by telling him plainly that public opinion will accuse him of deserting his post. Cicero, obedient to the call, returns at once to face Antony in the Senate. If it had not been for Atticus, the first Philippic would never have been spoken. In private life, as in public, Cicero always leaned on Atticus. All domestic jars and Cicero's family often caused him uneasiness.

are reported at once to his friend, who always plays the part of sympathizer and sometimes that of peacemaker. All his business transactions, likewise, went through Atticus's hands, and the letters are full of references to them. Cicero was very careless about money matters. If a house or a farm or a statue took his fancy, he bought first and afterwards considered how he was to find the money. Thus, though his fortune was never compromised, hardly even seriously

embarrassed, he is constantly in small difficulties. Such a bill has to be met on such a day, and there are no funds, unless that other sum which he is expecting be paid up to date, which is unlikely. On such occasions, Cicero gets alarmed about his credit and writes to Atticus to raise money for him at any cost, or to sell his property at any sacrifice, rather than allow him to appear for a moment as a defaulter. Atticus never grudged trouble on behalf of his friend.

We always find that, one way or another, he manages to meet the call, and a few months' economy or a legacy, opportunely falling in, sets Cicero's affairs straight again. One business relation between the friends has a more permanent interest. Atticus had a large retinue of slaves born in his house, whom he carefully educated and trained to act as his literary assistants. His household staff, says his biographer, though insignificant for purposes of

display, was admirable so far as use was concerned. It comprised a number of highly educated slaves, excellent readers and copyists enough and to spare. Indeed, there was not a footman who was able to fulfill both these tasks with credit. They were experts in the art of binding, cataloging, and arranging, and were at home among bookcases and titles. Atticus lent their skilled assistants to repair the damage done in Cicero's library while he was in exile, and Cicero was delighted

with their work. Since Tyrannia, with their valuable aid, has put my books in order, the house seems to have a soul breathed into it. After completing his own library, Atticus set his slaves to work to make extra copies of his books, for which he found a ready sale. Before he left Athens, we find that he had a whole library to dispose of, and that Cicero marked it for his own. By no means pledge your offspring to anyone else, though you meet with a wooer never so ardent.

I am keeping all my odd monies for that object, and I look to those books as the standby of my old age. Cicero's own compositions naturally passed into the workshop of his friend, and Atticus became his publisher. There was no copyright either of author or publisher, but the labor of Atticus's literary slaves doubtless brought in handsome returns to their master. Cicero commonly had the benefit of Atticus's criticisms while each work was in

progress and looked with anxiety for his red pencil marks. His suggestions on the second Philippic are known to us from Cicero's letter in reply. When Cicero has put the last hand to a book, he sends Atticus' word. Now you may begin copying out. When he resolves to cancel the first version of his academics and to recast the dialogue with a fresh set of interlocutors, he writes, you will easily console yourself for the loss involved in those copies which you have written

out to no purpose. The new version is more brilliant, more concise, better in every way. Sometimes these relations caused a momentary unpleasantness, as when Cicero finds that copies of the Dephinibus had got abroad without his leave, before he had put in his final corrections, and before the presentation copy had been sent to Brutus, to whom the treatise was dedicated. Though Cicero was not aware of it, the same thing must have happened in the case of the academics,

for of the two surviving books, one belongs to the revised and the other to the suppressed version. Boissier remarks that here we have publishing in its inchoate stage. Originally, whoever wished for a book must borrow it and get it copied at his own risk. Here we have a private gentleman employing his special facilities to make copies for sale among his friends. In the next generation, the Soce family, the publishers of Horus, make the bringing out and selling of new books a regular

trade. Atticus survived Cicero eight years. With the triumph of Antony, all Cicero's friends were in danger. Atticus had to fly for his life and took refuge with Volumnius, an officer of Antony's, whom Atticus had himself concealed and protected while his enemies were in power a few months previously. When, however, Antony heard of Atticus's kindness to Volumnius and to his own wife and children, he caused word to be sent that he had removed from the prescription list not only his

name, but for his sake, that of his friend, Gellius Canis, who was in hiding with him. From that time forward, Atticus was on intimate terms both with Antony and Octavian. True to his usual practice, he kept up his friendly relations with both till the end of his own life, though at that time the two were preparing for another civil war. Meanwhile, he had accepted the interest of Antony to obtain for his daughter Caecilia Attica the most splendid match in Rome. He married her

to Agrippa, the prime friend and co-adjutor of Octavian, and Atticus lived to see his little granddaughter Vespasia, the only issue of this marriage, betrothed in her cradle to Tiberius, the stepson and destined successor of Augustus. Their child again was Drusus, who was appointed the colleague of his father Tiberius, and who, but for his premature death, would himself have been emperor of the Romans. The high society of Rome considered it a blot on the nobility of

Drusus that there were men alive who could remember his great-grandfather, a simple Roman knight. But to return to Atticus himself, can we forgive the man who, after enjoying for half a century the most endearing friendship with Cicero, could forget all and live on as the genial companion and favorite adherent of the men who had murdered him? Atticus might plead that he had never failed Cicero while he lived, and that he could do him no good now, whereas there were living friends

whom he might still help and save. When once his own peace was made with the Triunvers, he was privileged to offer a shelter to the proscribed, and his estate in Apyrus became a sort of unchallenged sanctuary. After the Battle of Philippi, we find him at the same work, and his biographer mentions the names of many Republicans who owed their lives and fortunes to Atticus. For all this, the human instinct of Homer is true, when he marks it as a grievous and

dreadful thing, that Priam must need stoop to what never man had born to do before, and that he should put his lips to the hand which had slain his son. This instinct did not touch Atticus. In his youth, he made himself so charming to Sulla, that the proconsul, while he remained at Athens, could never bear to have him out of his sight. He refused Sula's pressing invitation to come back with him to Italy, on the ground that in the opposite camp there were friends against whom

he could not lift a hand. But of the dead friend's suplicious Rufus, whom Sula had murdered, he took no account. So it was again in his old age, and better would it have been for Atticus if his name had remained on the prescription list. Atticus could not have been a selfish man, for he spent his life in doing good to his friends, at the cost of unceasing trouble and sometimes of serious danger. He must have been a lovable man, for everyone loved him, and such affection is not

to be gained, except by a kindly and tender heart. But he was devoid of noble rage. He never knew that there are some wrongs, which it is degradation to forgive. He could love, but his love was never strong enough to cause him to hate, and a man without the capacity for hatred is but half a man. Cicero's earliest letters to Atticus records a domestic trouble, the death of his cousin Lucius, to whom he was much attached. Late in the previous year, Cicero had lost his father,

and his mother had been long dead. His immediate family circle now consisted of his brother and nephew and of his own wife and children. Shortly after his return from the East in the year 77 BC, Cicero had married Terentia, a lady of good family, but so far as we can judge, of somewhat harsh and unfeminine temper. Her husband said of her that she was much more likely to take on herself the management of the affairs of the state than to allow him to meddle in the affairs

of her household. Their eldest child was a daughter, Talia, on whom her father lavished all his affection. Her betrothal to Piso, while yet a child, is mentioned in a letter of the year 67 BC. Cicero's only son, named Marcus like his father, was born in the summer of 65 BC. We find frequent references to the children in these early letters. Now it is Talia, who insists the little pet on having the present you promised her, and calls on me as the surety, but I am resolved to repudiate

rather than pay up. Now the young Marcus, at the age of six, claims a line at the end of his father's letter to show off his first Greek writing in a postscript. Cicero the small sends his love to Titus the Athenian. Or, Cicero the philosopher sends his love to Titus the statesman. Quintus, the younger brother of Marcus Cicero, followed his example in adopting the senatorial career and rose to the praetorship. He had some pretensions to be a man of letters and wrote

Greek tragedies while campaigning in Gaul and Britain, but nature had meant him for a soldier rather than for a student or for a statesman. His frank and affectionate nature was marred by a passionate and hasty temper, and the possession of great office did not awaken him to any high sense of duty or responsibility. Marcus Cicero perhaps somewhat abuses an elder brother's privilege, appointing out to him the error of his ways, and Quintus in turn sometimes chafes under

the lecture, but in spite of this, the brothers heartily loved one another. Quintus married Pomponia, the sister of Atticus, and had by her one son, named after his father. This Quintus the son was spoiled, so his uncle thought, by the overindulgence of his parents. He died nobly in the end, but his conduct as he emerged from boyhood was anything but satisfactory. Cicero always felt himself responsible for the behavior of his brother and his nephew and was ever in a

fidget lest they should do something to discredit the family. It is needless to say that he confides his alarms to Atticus. One such communication may serve to illustrate the elder brother's uneasiness. When Cicero quitted Cilicia after his year of governorship in 50 BC, it was a difficult question, whom to leave in charge of his province. He finally resolves that he will not pass over his quaestor, officially the second in command, in favor of the higher standing and greater experience

of his brother. In writing to Atticus, after a long string of arguments for this decision, he concludes, So much for reasons which we can give to the world. Next one for your private ear. I should never have a moment's peace, for fear he should do something hasty or insolent or indiscreet, for such things will happen in this world. Then there is his son, a boy, and a boy with a mighty good opinion of himself. What a vexation it would be! And his father will not hear of sending him

home, and is displeased at your suggesting it. Now as for the quaestor, I do not pretend to say what he may or may not do, but then I plague myself much less about it. On one occasion, a darker cloud came between the brothers, but though the evidence looks black against Quintus, the complete reconciliation which followed allows us to hope that what looked like baseness proved to have been only ill-temper and indiscretion. In death they were not divided,

and Cicero's nephew too, redeemed a worthless life by a heroic end. In the last dreadful days of the proscription, the two brothers set forth together on their flight. Quintus returned with his son to Rome to procure supplies for their journey, and the two fell into the power of the headhunters. They died like worthy Romans, each striving to sacrifice his own life for the preservation of the other. Young Marcus, the son of Cicero, alone survived. Like his uncle, he was

a gallant soldier, and he did good service both under Pompey and under Brutus. But with the Civil War, his credit ended. Thenceforth he was known chiefly as the hardest-headed toper in Rome. Nevertheless, in his case too, the whirly-jig of time brings in his revenges. The pious historian deemed it a clear case of a special interposition of providence that Marcus Tullius Cicero was consul in the latter part of the year 30 BC, and that so it

fell to his lot, to announce to the Senate, the tidings of the final defeat and death of Antony, and to decree the destruction of Antony's statutes, and the legal damnation of his name. End of chapter 3