July 43 BCE: To Brutus (at Dyrrachium) from Cicero (at Rome)

A final letter from Cicero

Salvete, patres subscripti. 

This is the final letter from e-pistulae. Cicero would go on to live until early December 43 BCE, but the extant non-fragmentary epistolary correspondence ends in July.

This letter, Cic. ad Brut. 1.15, dated only to a vague ‘July’, is almost certainly not the last letter in the sequence. In reality it was probably written in the first half of July, not long after Cic. ad Brut. 1.12. The latest dated letter in the collection is Plancus’ letter of July 28th. There was absolutely no way I could let Plancus’ letter be the end of my little e-reanimation project, and so I have invoked my necromancer’s privileges and moved this vaguely dated letter to the end of the sequence instead, so that Cicero can have the last word. 

After this letter, things that were already bad got worse. Brutus did not bring his army back to Italy, and in fact never set foot in Italy again. Octavian marched on Rome (for a second time) in early August and became consul at the age of 19 on August 19th. (In 43 BCE that month was still called Sextilis, but it would be renamed in honour of Octavian several years after he became Rome’s first emperor, Augustus.) Once he was consul, Octavian quickly had Caesar’s assassins prosecuted and condemned in absentia for the murder of Caesar. Plancus abandoned his alliance with Decimus Brutus shortly after, and Decimus Brutus was killed while attempting to make his way to Brutus and Cassius. Dolabella (remember him?) committed suicide after being defeated by Cassius. Cicero’s son stayed with Brutus in Macedonia.

At some point after this letter was sent, Cicero retired to his villa at Tusculum. He was joined there by his brother and his nephew. Then after months of military vacillation (during which both Plancus and Pollio joined Antony and Lepidus) on November 27th 43 BCE Antony, Octavian, and Lepidus reached an agreement and formed the Second Triumvirate. Ostensibly their aim was to restore the Republic. In practice, they divided the empire between themselves and published a proscription list of thousands of names. It included Cicero, his son, his brother, and his nephew. Only Cicero’s son survived. Antony had good reason to want Cicero dead, and Octavian allowed it. The assassins caught up with Cicero as he was trying to escape by sea, on December 7th.

Famously, Cicero’s head and hands were cut off, sent back to Rome, and mounted on the Rostra—the platform he had delivered so many of his speeches from.

Cicero’s letters were preserved, probably by his secretary Tiro, and published at some point after his death. The letters are our only personal account of the last years of Cicero’s—and the Republic’s—life, and their use as the primary source for historians means Cicero has the last word there, too.

Thank you for putting up with so many emails from Cicero’s ghost, and for helping to reanimate him (however briefly) with every letter you read.

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From Cicero to Brutus, greetings.

You have Messalla with you. Can I therefore write a letter in which I lay out what is happening and the current political situation any more accurately and exactly than he can explain to you, when he is so well informed about everything and can narrate things and get the story across with such elegance? 

Make sure you are aware, Brutus (although there is no need for me to write and tell you what you know already; but still, I cannot pass over such excellence in silence— he is praiseworthy in every respect), and be wary of thinking that anyone else can resemble Messalla in uprightness, constancy, care, and devotion to the Republic, to the extent that there scarcely seems reason to praise his eloquence—although he excels in it to a remarkable degree. And yet his wisdom is even more apparent in that very area: for he has practised the most serious style of speaking with authoritative judgement and a great deal of skill. But he is so industrious and so unremittingly careful in his studies that even though his natural talent is tremendous, it is somehow not what should be esteemed most highly! 

But I’m getting carried away by my affection. It is not my intention to praise Messalla in this letter, especially to Brutus, who knows his virtues better than I do myself, and who knows these very accomplishments that I praise better than myself too. My great distress at having to send him from my side was lessened by this one thought—that in making his way to you, who are almost my second self, he is doing his duty and seeking the highest praise. But enough of this.

I come now (after a long interval) to a certain letter of yours in which while complimenting me on many things, you found one fault with me: that I am excessive and almost wasteful in voting for or decreeing honours. This is your criticism. Someone else’s might be that I am too harsh in inflicting punishments—or maybe you reproach me for this as well. If that is the case, I am anxious for you to know my reasoning for both. 

I won’t only adopt that saying of Solon, who was both one of the Seven Wise Men,¹ and of those seven the only legislator. He said that a State was held together by two things: rewards and punishments. These things are of course to be used in moderation, as with anything else, and a certain type of mean must be adhered to for each. But it is not my intention to discuss so great a topic here. I do however think it is fitting to disclose the reasoning I have followed in this war when proposing motions in the Senate.

After the death of Caesar and your historic Ides of March, Brutus, you have not forgotten that I said that there was something you all had neglected to do,² and that a great storm was hanging over the Republic. You eradicated a great plague, you wiped away a great stain on the Roman People, you won yourselves divine glory—but you handed the machinery of monarchy to Lepidus and Antony, the former more fickle and the latter more filthy. Both fear peace and are enemies to quiet times. 

We had no defence that could oppose these men who burned with the desire to overthrow the Republic. The state had collectively risen in defence of its freedom, but at that time I seemed too violent, and you (perhaps more wisely) left the very city that you had freed, and refused Italy’s services when offered them. And so when I saw the city held by murderers, and that neither you nor Cassius could be safe there, and that it was being oppressed by Antony’s soldiers, I thought that I myself also needed to leave. A city oppressed by evil men, with all power to help cut off, is a monstrous spectacle. But my spirit, which has always been inseparable from its love of our country, could not bear to be parted from the danger that country was in. 

And so in the middle of my journey to Greece, when the Etesian winds should have prevailed, the South Wind carried me back to Italy, as if convincing me to abandon my plan. I saw you at Velia, and was extremely distressed. For you were withdrawing, Brutus—and I say ‘withdrawing’ because our Stoic friends say that a wise man does not flee. 

I arrived in Rome and immediately opposed Antony’s criminal insanity. When I had stirred up his rage against me, I began to engage in a truly ‘Brutine’ plan (for this particular sort of thing runs in your blood)³ to free the Republic.

The rest of the story is long, and I’ll pass over it—it is about me. I shall say only that this young man Caesar,⁴ who (if we are willing to admit it) is the reason we are still alive, took my advice as his source of inspiration. I have given him no honours that were undeserved, Brutus, and none except what were necessary. When we first began to restore our freedom, when Decimus Brutus’ divine virtue had yet to make itself known to us and our entire defence was this boy who had removed Antony’s sword from our necks—what honour should we not have voted for him?

For my part, I proposed a vote of thanks (and a modest one at that) as well as voting for him to have a military command. Although this seemed like an honour at his age,⁵ still, it was necessary since he had an army. For what is an army without a military command? Philippus voted for him to have a statue,⁶ Servius the right to stand for election at an earlier age than is legal, and Servilius expanded upon this further. At that time, nothing seemed too much.

But for some reason it is easier to find generous men in troubled times than grateful ones in victory. For my part, when the most joyful day of Decimus Brutus’ liberation dawned—and it also happened to be his birthday—I proposed that the name of Brutus be affixed to that day in the calendar, following the example of our ancestors who paid tribute to a woman, Larentia,⁷ whose altar in the Velabrum you priests are used to sacrificing at. When I tried to give this gift to Decimus Brutus, I wanted the calendar to mark this most welcome victory for eternity. That day I discovered that the Senate contained much more spite than gratitude.

On those same days I poured out—if you want to put it like that—honours for the dead: for Hirtius and Pansa, and even Aquila. Who can blame me, unless they have put aside their fear and immediately forgotten the danger that has just passed? In addition to the grateful memory of this service was the reasoning of what would be beneficial to posterity too: I wanted eternal monuments of the people’s hatred of our cruellest enemies to live on. 

I suspect that you approve less of my other proposal—your friends, who are loyal men but clumsy politicians, did not approve of it—that Caesar be allowed to enter the city accompanied by an ovation.⁸ For my part (but maybe I made a mistake—still, I am not the sort of person who is overly pleased by their own actions) I feel that I have made no proposal in this war that is more sensible. But I must not reveal why that is the case, or I may seem more prophetic than grateful.⁹ This is already too much; let’s turn to something else.

I proposed honours for Decimus Brutus, and I proposed them for Lucius Plancus. Noble characters are enticed by glory. But the Senate is also wise to use every method (so long as it is honourable) that it thinks can lead various men to aid the Republic. But, you say, I am blamed in the case of Lepidus—we set up his statue on the Rostra and then pulled it down.¹⁰ Our aim was to use the honour to bring him back from the brink of his madness, but the insanity of that most fickle man defeated our good sense. But still, there was less evil in setting up Lepidus’ statue than there was good in pulling it down. 

That’s enough about honours. Now I must say a little about punishment. I have often got the impression from your letters that you want to be praised for the mercy you have shown those you defeated in war.¹¹ You have done everything as a wise man should. But to pass over the punishment for a crime (for that is what is meant by ‘pardoning’), even if it is tolerable in other situations, I think is dangerous in this war. 

Out of all the civil wars the Republic has had that I remember, there has not been one in which no form of Republic would exist, no matter which side won. In this war, if we are victorious, I would not find it easy to state what sort of Republic we would have, and if we lose we shall certainly not have any sort of Republic again. 

For this reason I proposed severe motions against Antony, and I proposed them against Lepidus, not so much for the sake of vengeance as to—for now—use fear to deter evil citizens from attacking our country, and—for posterity—to establish a precedent, so that nobody will want to imitate such insanity. Although, this proposal was no more mine than it was the collective’s. 

The part of it that seems cruel is that the punishment extends to children who do not deserve it at all. But this is an ancient feature of all societies–even Themistocles’ children went without. And the same punishment applies to citizens who have been condemned in court;¹² so how could we be more lenient to public enemies? And how can anyone complain about me when they must admit that, if he had won, he would have been more violent towards me?

Now you have the reasoning behind my proposals, as far as these sorts of honours and punishments are concerned. I think you have heard the opinions I voiced and how I voted on other matters.

But these things are not that essential. What really is essential, Brutus, is that you bring your army to Italy as soon as possible. Your arrival is greatly anticipated. As soon as you set foot in Italy, everyone will rush to your side. For if we are victorious—and in fact we would have already won a most beautiful victory, if Lepidus had not wanted to destroy everything and die alongside his men—we shall need your influence in establishing some form of State. If some fighting remains to be had, our greatest hope lies both in your influence and in the strength of your army. But by the gods, hurry up! You know the importance of timing, and the importance of speed.

I hope you have found out from your mother and sister’s letters how attentively I am looking out for your sister’s children.¹³ In this case I am taking your wishes—which I hold very dearly—into greater account than my own consistency, as certain people see it. But there is nothing I would rather be and seem consistent in than in loving you.

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Latin text of Cic. ad Brut. 1.15 | Glossary | Historia Civilis video overview of 44-43 BCE

1. The Seven Wise Men of Greece was a list of… seven wise Greek men.

2. Cicero thinks the conspirators should have killed Antony alongside Caesar.

3. Brutus’ paternal ancestor Lucius Iunius Brutus had overthrown Rome’s last king and was one of the Republic’s founders. Brutus’ maternal ancestor Gaius Servilius Ahala had killed Spurius Maelius when he aimed at tyrannical power.

4. i.e. Octavian.

5. Octavian was 19.

6. Philippus was also Octavian’s step-father.

7. Footnote borrowed from Shackleton Bailey: ‘‘The divinity whom Varro calls Larunda is doubtless the same as Larenta, at whose “tomb”, on the Velabrum, a sacrifice was offered on 23 December. The figure of Larenta is shadowy and elusive. She is probably identical with Acca Larenti(n)a, who is not a goddess but the heroine of two rival legends. In one she is a courtesan who … willed her fortune to the Roman people, who celebrate her annually in the Larentalia; in the other … she is the wet nurse of Romulus and Remus, the wife of the shepherd who adopted them’ (R. Dumézil, Archaic Roman religion (1970), 268 f.). See further Ogilvie’s commentary on Livy I-V (1965), pp. 47f., 50.’

8. An ovation was an honour lesser than a Triumph.

9. Footnote borrowed from Shackleton Bailey: ‘Manutius explains Cicero’s meaning to be that if Octavian entered Rome to celebrate the Ovation, he would lose his imperium. I see no better interpretation, though it seems naive on Cicero’s part to expect that Octavian could be so inveigled. In the event this Ovation was never celebrated. Indeed it is not certain that the Senate passed the proposal. Livy (Epit. CXIX) and Appian (B.C. III.74) imply the contrary; see T.-P. ad loc.’

10. The Senate set up a statue of Lepidus before he was declared a public enemy, and pulled it down after. The Rostra was the speaker’s platform in the Forum.

11. Cicero and Brutus had been arguing about what Brutus should do with the captured Gaius Antonius for months.

12. If a defendant was condemned in court, their property would be confiscated, regardless of how this would affect their children.

13. The children of Brutus’ sister Iunia Secunda and Lepidus.