B.C. 46, ÆT. 60
from me, or exile torn away, but also all the friends whose
affection my former successful defence of the Republic, accomplished
with your aid, had gained for me. I am in the
very midst of their shipwrecked fortunes and the confiscation
of their property; and I not only hear—which in itself
would have been bad enough—but I have before my very
eyes the sharpest of all pangs, the actual sight of the ruin
of those men by whose aid in old times I quenched that
conflagration. And in the city in which I once enjoyed
such popularity, influence, and glory, I am now entirely
deprived of all these. I retain, indeed, Cæsar's supreme kindness:
but that cannot make up for violence and a complete
upset of the established order of things. Therefore, being
shorn of all to which nature and taste and habit had accustomed
me, I present no pleasant object either to others, as
it seems to me, or to myself. For, being inclined by nature
to be always actively employed in some task worthy of a
man, I have now no scope, not merely for action, but even
for thought. And I, who in old times was able to help men,
who were either obscure or even guilty, am now unable to
make even a kind promise to Publius Nigidius—the most
eminent man of the day for learning and purity of character,
who formerly enjoyed the highest popularity, and at any rate
was a most affectionate friend to me.
Therefore from that kind of letter I am forcibly debarred. The only thing left is to console you and to put before you some considerations by which I may endeavour to distract your thoughts from your afflictions. But, if anyone ever had, you have the gift in the highest degree of consoling either yourself or another. Therefore upon that part of the subject which proceeds from profound reason and philosophy I will not touch: I will leave it entirely to you. What is becoming to a brave and wise man, what solidity of character, what a lofty mind, what a past such as yours, what studies and accomplishments, in which you have been eminent from boyhood, demand of you—that you will see for yourself. I only undertake to assure you of what I am able to gather and perceive, from being at Rome and watching affairs anxiously and with attention: it is that you will not be long in the distressing circumstances in which you are at present; but that in those, nevertheless, which I share with you, you
