en, as to the other, why was he leaving
his country-house so suddenly? Why should he do this so late in the
evening? Why did he travel so slowly at this time of the year? He was
going, he says, to Pompey's villa. Not that he might see Pompey, because
he knew that Pompey was at Alsium. Did he want to see the villa? He had
been there a thousand times. Why all this delay, and turning backward
and forward? Because he would not leave the spot till Milo had come up.
And now compare this ruffian's mode of travelling with that of Milo. It
has been the constant custom with Clodius to have his wife with him, but
now she was not there. He has always been in a carriage, but now he was
on horseback. His young Greek sybarites have ever been with him, even
when he went as far as Tuscany; on this occasion there were no such
trifles in his company. Milo, with whom such companions were not usual,
had his wife's singing-boys with him and a bevy of female slaves.
Clodius, who usually never moved without a crowd of prostitutes at his
heels, now had no one with him but men picked for this work in
hand."[59] What a picture we have here of the manner in which noble
Romans were wont to move about the city and the suburbs! We may imagine
that the singing-boys of Milo's wife were quite as bad as the Greek
attendants in whom Clodius usually rejoiced. Then he asks a question as
to Pompey full of beautiful irony. If Pompey could bring back Clodius
from the dead--Pompey, who is so fond of him; Pompey, who is so
powerful, so fortunate, so capable of all things; Pompey, who would be
so glad to do it because of his love for the man--do you not know that
on behalf of the Republic he would leave him down among the ghosts where
he is?[60] There is a delightful touch of satire in this when we
remember how odious Clodius had been to Pompey in days not long gone by,
and how insolent.

The oration is ended by histrionic effects in language which would have
been marvellous had they ever been spoken, but which seem to be
incredible to us when we know that they were arranged for publication
when the affair was over. "O me wretched! O me unhappy!"[61] But these
attempts at translation are all vain. The student who wishes to
understand what may be the effect of Latin words thrown into this
choicest form should read the Milo.

We have very few letters from Cicero in this year--four only, I think,
and they are of no special moment. In one of them he recommends Avian