Letter 54

My brother Quintus, having departed from Asia before the Kalends of May and arrived at Athens on the Ides, was under great pressure to hurry, lest he suffer some disaster in his absence, if perhaps there were someone not yet satisfied with our misfortunes. And so I preferred him to hasten to Rome rather than come to me, and at the same time — for I will say what is true, from which you may perceive the magnitude of my miseries — I could not bring myself either to look upon him, so devoted to me and so tender-hearted, in the midst of such grief, or to thrust my afflicted miseries and ruined fortune upon him, or to suffer myself to be seen by him. And I also feared what would surely have happened: that he would not be able to part from me. That moment kept turning before my eyes, when he would either have to dismiss his lictors or be torn by force from my embrace. The bitterness of that outcome I avoided by the other bitterness of not seeing my brother. Into this plight you who counseled me to live have driven me. And so I pay the penalty for my mistake. Though your letters sustain me, from which I easily perceive how much you yourself hope; yet they did offer some consolation before you reached, from Pompey, "Now win over Hortensius and men of that sort." I beg you, my dear Pomponius, do you not yet see through whose efforts, whose plots, whose villainy we have been destroyed? But all this I will discuss with you in person; I say only what I think you already know: it was not enemies but enviers who destroyed us. Now, if things are as you hope, I will hold firm and lean on the hope you bid me embrace; but if, as they seem to me, they are without substance, what was not permitted at the best moment will be done at a less fitting one. Terentia thanks you often. Among my troubles, one thing I still fear: my poor brother's affair; if I knew its nature, I would know what I must do. Even now, as you wish, the expectation of those favors and letters keeps me at Thessalonica. If any fresh news arrives, I will know what remains to be done. If you set out from Rome on the Kalends of June, as you write, you will see me before long. I have sent you the letter I wrote to Pompey. Given on the Ides of June, at Thessalonica.

My brother Quintus left Asia at the end of April and reached Athens on May the 15th: and he had to hurry, for fear anything disastrous might happen in his absence, if there were anyone who was not yet contented with the measure of our woes. So I preferred him to hurry on to Rome rather than to come to me: and besides—I will confess the magnitudinem miseriarum mearum perspicere possis) animum inducere non potui, ut aut illum amantissimum mei, mollissimo animo tanto in maerore aspicerem aut meas miserias luctu adflictus et perditam fortunam illi offerrem aut ab illo aspici paterer. Atque etiam illud timebam, quod profecto accidisset, ne a me digredi non posset. Versabatur mihi tempus illud ante oculos, cum ille aut lictores dimitteret aut vi avelleretur ex complexu meo. Huius acerbitatis eventum altera acerbitate non videndi fratris vitavi. In hunc me casum vos vivendi auctores impulistis. Itaque mei peccati luo poenas. Quamquam me tuae litterae sustentant, ex quibus, quantum tu ipse speres, facile perspicio; quae quidem tamen aliquid habebant solacii, antequam eo venisti a Pompeio, “Nunc Hortensium allice et eius modi viros.” Obsecro, mi Pomponi, nondum perspicis, quorum opera, quorum insidiis, quorum scelere perierimus? Sed tecum haec omnia coram agemus; tantum dico, quod scire te puto, nos non inimici, sed invidi perdiderunt. Nunc, si ita sunt, quae speras, sustinebimus nos et spe, qua iubes, nitemur; sin, ut mihi videntur, infirma sunt, quod optimo tempore facere non licuit, minus idoneo fiet. Terentia tibi saepe agit gratias. Mihi etiam unum de malis in metu est, fratris miseri negotium; quod si sciam cuius modi sit, sciam, quid agendum mihi sit. truth and it will show you the depth of my misery—I could not bear in my great distress to look on one so devoted to me and so tender-hearted, nor could I thrust upon him the misery of my affliction and my fallen fortune, or suffer him to see me. Besides I was afraid of what would have been sure to happen—that he would not be able to part from me. The picture of the moment when he would have had to dismiss his lictors or to be torn by force from my arms was ever before me. The bitterness of parting I have avoided by the bitterness of not seeing my brother. That is the kind of dilemma into which you who are responsible for my survival have forced me; and so I have to pay the penalty for my mistake. Your letter however cheers me, though I can easily see from it how little hope you have yourself. Still it offered some little consolation till you passed from your mention of Pompey to the passage: “Now try to win over Hortensius and such people.” In heaven’s name, my dear Pomponius, have you not yet grasped, whose agency, whose villainy and whose treachery have ruined me? But that I will discuss when I meet you. Now I will only say, what you must surely know, that it is not so much my enemies as my enviers who have ruined me. If there is any real foundation for your hopes, I will bear up and rely on the hope you suggest. But if, as seems probable to me, your hopes are ill-founded, then I will do now what you would not let me do before, though the time is far less appropriate. Terentia often expresses her gratitude to you. The thing I most fear among all my misfortunes is my poor brother’s business: if I knew the exact state of affairs, I might know what to do about it. I am Me etiam nunc istorum beneficiorum et litterarum exspectatio, ut tibi placet, Thessalonicae tenet. Si quid erit novi allatum, sciam, de reliquo quid agendum sit. Tu si, ut scribis, Kal. Iuniis Roma profectus es, prope diem nos videbis. Litteras, quas ad Pompeium scripsi, tibi misi. Data Id. Iun. Thessalonicae.

Quintus frater cum ex Asia discessisset ante Kal. Maias et Athenas venisset Idibus, valde fuit ei properandum, ne quid absens acciperet calamitatis, si quis forte fuisset qui contentus nostris malis non esset. itaque eum malui properare Romam quam ad me venire et simul (dicam enim quod verum est, ex quo magnitudinem miseriarum mearum perspicere possis) animum inducere non potui ut aut illum amantissimum mei mollissimo animo tanto in maerore aspicerem aut meas miserias luctu adflictus et perditam fortunam illi offerrem aut ab illo aspici paterer. atque etiam illud timebam, quod profecto accidisset, ne a me digredi non posset. versabatur mihi tempus illud ante oculos quom ille aut lictores dimitteret aut vi avelleretur ex complexu meo. huius acerbitatis eventum altera acerbitate non videndi fratris vitavi. in hunc me casum vos vivendi auctores impulistis. [2] itaque mei peccati luo poenas. quam quam me tuae litterae sustentant ex quibus quantum tu ipse speres facile perspicio; quae quidem tamen aliquid habebant solaci ante quam eo venisti a Pompeio. 'nunc Hortensium adlice et eius modi viros.' obsecro, mi Pomponi, nondum perspicis quorum opera, quorum insidiis, quorum scelere perierimus? sed tecum haec omnia coram agemus; tantum dico quod scire te puto, nos non inimici sed invidi perdiderunt. nunc si ita sunt quae speras, sustinebimus nos et spe qua iubes nitemur; sin, ut mihi videntur, infirma sunt, quod optimo tempore facere non licuit minus idoneo fiet. [3] Terentia tibi saepe agit gratias. mihi etiam unum de malis in metu est, fratris miseri negotium; quod si sciam quoius modi sit, sciam quid agendum mihi sit. me etiam nunc istorum beneficiorum et litterarum exspectatio, ut tibi placet, Thessalonicae tenet. si quid erit novi adlatum, sciam de reliquo quid agendum sit. tu si, ut scribis, Kal. Iuniis Roma profectus es, prope diem nos videbis. Litteras quas ad Pompeium scripsi tibi misi. data id. Iun. Thessalonicae.