29 April 58 BCE: From Cicero (at Brundisium) to his family (in Rome)

Cicero writes to his wife

[This is the second of two letters from April 29th.]

Cicero greets his Terentia, Tullia, and little Cicero.

I send you letters less often than I could because I find every moment so miserable that really, whenever I either write to you or read your letters, I am so overcome with weeping that I cannot bear it. I wish I had wanted life less! I would at least have not seen any evil in my life, or very little. But if fortune has set aside any hope of my someday recovering some level of standing, then I have made less of a mistake; if these evils are permanent, then I can only wish to see you as soon as I can, my life, and to die in your embrace, since the gods you have worshipped so piously and the people I have always served have given us nothing in return.

I have been in Brundisium for 13 days, at the house of Marcus Laenius Flaccus, one of the best men, who has disregarded the danger to his fortunes and his life for the sake of my safety, and nor has he been induced by the penalty imposed by a most vile law to ignore the duties of hospitality and friendship.¹ I hope I can someday return the favour as thanks. For I shall always be thankful. I set out from Brundisium on April 29th, making for Cyzicus via Macedonia.

Oh how ruined I am, how shattered! What can I do now? Should I ask you to come, when you are an unwell woman, exhausted in body and soul? Should I not ask you? And so should I be without you? I think I should state it like this: If there is any hope of my return, you should encourage it and aid the situation; but if (as I fear) it is over, then you should come to me, however you can. You can be sure of one thing: if I have you, I shall not feel so wholly lost.

But what will happen to my Tulliola?² Please take care of this now; I have no advice. But certainly, however things turn out, that poor little girl’s marriage and reputation must take priority.³ And what, what should my little Cicero do?⁴ Really, I should be holding him in a hug forever. I can write no more; grief weighs me down.

I don’t know how you are doing, whether you still have anything left or, as I fear, you have been robbed completely. I hope Piso will always remain our friend.⁵ As you write, you shouldn’t worry about freeing the household. Firstly, the promise made to your slaves was that you would treat each as they deserved. So far, Orpheus has done his duty, but besides him, none have done anything much. The position of the rest of the slaves, if my property is confiscated, is that they would be my freedmen, if they can retain that status. But if they still belong to me, then they should remain slaves, except for a select few.⁶ But these things are of little importance.

You encourage me to take heart and have hope of recovering my position. I wish it were the case that I could be justified in having hope. For now, while my situation is miserable, when am I going to receive another letter from you? Who will deliver it to me? I would have waited for it at Brundisium if the sailors allowed it, but they didn’t want to miss the good sailing conditions.

For what remains, my Terentia, cling to life as honourably as you can. My life is finished; I am past my prime. It was my virtue, not any vice of mine, that has ruined me. I have done nothing wrong, except that when I lost the trappings of honour and distinction, I did not also lose my life. But if it was because my children wanted me to live, let me endure the rest—although it is unendurable. And still, even as I encourage you, I cannot do the same for myself.

I have sent back Clodius Philhetaerus, a loyal man, because of the weakness of his eyes. Sallustius wins the contest for attentiveness. Pescennius is very friendly towards me, and I hope he will always look out for you. Sicca had said he would be with me, but he left at Brundisium.

Take care of your health, as well as you are able, and know that I am more strongly moved by your miseries than my own. To my Terentia, most loyal and best of wives, and my dearest little daughter, and my little Cicero, my last remaining hope—goodbye.

29th April, from Brundisium.

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Latin text of Cic. Fam. 14.4 | Glossary | Where is Cicero?

1. The law exiling Cicero forbade people from helping him in any way.

2. ‘Tulliola’ is the diminutive form of Tullia, Cicero’s daughter. Cicero often uses it affectionately.

3. Tullia was 21, and had been married to Gaius Calpurnius Piso Frugi for around 4 year, and so was legally unaffected by Cicero’s loss of status and property. But it seems that Cicero had not yet paid all of her dowry, and could not do so now that his property would be confiscated.

4. Cicero’s son was 6.

5. Piso was Tullia’s husband.

6. Footnote borrowed from Shackleton Bailey: ‘Cicero’s personal possessions would be sold sub hasta [at auction], but they might be purchased by someone (e.g. Atticus) who would see that he did not lose them irrevocably […]. Cicero seems to have manumitted the slaves informally (inter amicos) on the understanding that the manumission (which, being informal, could be revoked by himself) would in the latter event not stand, except for a very few. If, on the other hand, the property was finally alienated, the slaves would claim freedman status, though Cicero was doubtful whether the claim would really hold good.’