Letter 6.2

I ask you not to think that I write to you less often than I used to from any forgetfulness of you, but either because of the severity of my illness, from which I now seem to be somewhat recovering, or because I am away from the city, so that I cannot know who is setting out for where you are. I would therefore have you consider it settled that I hold you in remembrance with the deepest goodwill, and that all your affairs are no less a concern to me than my own. As to the fact that your case has been subject to greater uncertainty than people either wished or expected, believe me, given the evils of the times, there is nothing for you to take badly. For it is inevitable either that the republic be oppressed by perpetual arms, or that when these are laid aside it recover at some point, or that it perish utterly. If arms prevail, you need fear neither those by whom you are received nor those whom you aided. If the state recovers, whether through terms of peace, or exhaustion of arms, or the removal of arms by victory, you will be free to enjoy both your dignity and your fortunes. But if everything perishes entirely and that end comes which the most prudent Marcus Antonius was already fearing when he suspected that such great evils were at hand -- that consolation is wretched indeed, especially for such a citizen and man, but yet it is necessary: that no one should especially grieve at what befalls everyone. If you attend, as you do, to the force contained in these few words -- for more should not be entrusted to a letter -- you will surely understand, even without my writing, that you have something to hope for, nothing to fear in this or any condition of the republic; and if everything perishes, since you would not wish to survive the republic even if you could, you must bear your fortune, especially since it is free from blame. But enough of this. I would like you to write and tell me what you are doing and where you will be, so that I may know where to write or where to come.

DLXXIV (Fam. VI, 2) TO AULUS MANLIUS TORQUATUS (AT ATHENS) (FICULEA, 20 APRIL) I BEG you not to think that forgetfulness of you is the cause of my writing to you less often than I used to do; but either illness — from which however I am now recovering — or absence from the city, which prevents my knowing who is starting to where you are. Wherefore I would have you make up your mind that I always remember you with the most perfect affection, and regard all your interests as of no less concern to me than my own. That your case has experienced more vicissitudes than people either wished or expected is not, believe me, in these bad times a thing to give you anxiety. For it is inevitable that the republic should either be burdened by an unending war, or should at last recover itself by its cessation, or should utterly perish. If arms are to carry the day, you have no need to fear either the party by whom you are being taken back, nor that which you actually assisted; if — when arms are either laid down by a composition or thrown down from sheer weariness — the state ever recovers its breath, you will be permitted to enjoy your position and property. But if universal ruin is to be the result, and the end is to be what that very clear-sighted man Marcus Antonius used long ago to fear when he suspected that all this misfortune was impending, there is this consolation — a wretched one indeed, especially for such a citizen and such a man as yourself, but yet the only one we can have — that no one may make a private grievance of what affects all alike. If, as I am sure you will, you rightly conceive the meaning of these few words — for it was not proper to trust more to an epistle-you will certainly understand even without a letter from me that you have something to hope, nothing under this or any definite form of the constitution to fear. If there is general ruin, as you would not wish, even if you could, to survive the republic, you must bear your fortune, especially one which involves no blame to you. But enough of this. Pray write and tell me how you are and where you intend to stay, that I may know where to write or come.

II. Scr. Asturae mense Iunio aut Quinctili a.u.c. 709. M. CICERO S. D. A. TORQUATO Peto a te, ne me putes oblivione tui rarius ad te scribere, quam solebam, sed aut gravitate valetudinis, qua tamen iam paullum videor levari, aut quod absim ab urbe, ut, qui ad te proficiscantur, scire non possim; quare velim ita statutum habeas, me tui memoriam cum summa benevolentia tenere tuasque omnes res non minori mihi curae quam meas esse. Quod maiore in varietate versata est adhuc tua causa, quam homines aut volebant aut opinabantur, mihi crede, non est pro malis temporum, quod moleste feras; necesse est enim aut armis urgeri rem publicam sempiternis aut iis positis recreari aliquando aut funditus interire: si arma valebunt, nec eos, a quibus reciperis, vereri debes nec eos, quos adiuvisti; si armis aut condicione positis aut defetigatione abiectis aut victoria detractis civitas respiraverit, et dignitate tua frui tibi et fortunis licebit; sin omnino interierint omnia fueritque is exitus, quem vir prudentissimus, M. Antonius, iam tum timebat, cum tantum instare malorum suspicabatur, misera est illa quidem consolatio, tali praesertim civi et viro, sed tamen necessaria, nihil esse praecipue cuiquam dolendum in eo, quod accidat universis. Quae vis insit in his paucis verbis—plura enim committenda epistulae non erant—, si attendes, quod facis, profecto etiam sine meis litteris intelliges te aliquid habere, quod speres, nihil, quod aut hoc aut aliquo rei publicae statu timeas; omnia si intererint, cum superstitem te esse rei publicae ne si liceat quidem velis, ferendam esse fortunam, praesertim quae absit a culpa. Sed haec hactenus: tu velim scribas ad me, quid agas et ubi futurus sis, ut aut quo scribam aut quo veniam scire possim.