How lovingly Brutus’ letter was written! How unlucky your timing, that you are unable to visit him! But what should I write to him? That they should accept a favour from that lot? What could be more shameful? That they should attempt some plan? They neither dare to, nor now are they able to. Well, suppose they stay quiet at my instigation; who would be responsible for their safety? If indeed anything serious happens regarding Decimus, what life would our friends lead, even if no-one troubles them?1 And then, not to hold the games!2 What could be more shocking? To deliver grain! Which is another ‘legation of Dion’—or what duty in the Republic is more sordid?3 In short, any advice in such a situation is not even safe to those who offer it. I could ignore that, if I would accomplish anything; but why should I make the attempt in vain? When he accepts advice (or even entreaties) from his mother, why should I get in the way? But still, I shall think about what sort of letter to write; for I cannot stay silent.4 So I shall send a letter at once, either to Antium, or to Circeii.
Read Ad Atticum 15.10 in Latin here | Check the glossary here
Cicero’s worry is that Mark Antony could attempt to forcefully appropriate Cisalpine Gaul while Decimus Brutus is still governor there.
As Urban Praetor, Brutus was responsible for holding the ludi Apollinares (Games of Apollo) from July 6-13th. But he would not go to Rome, and so Mark Antony’s brother Gaius Antonius, one of the other praetors, would end up having to hold them in his stead.
Shackleton Bailey says of the ‘legation of Dion’ that it is ‘apparently a proverbial phrase for getting rid of somebody under the guise of a compliment.’ It may refer to Dion of Syracuse, but (as Shackleton Bailey also notes) he was exiled rather than being sent on an embassy.
We know this.
Footnote 4 is perfect. rideo.
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