overcome him; but when the moment came he was strong against even
Caesar. He gave his boy his toga, or, as we should say, made a man of
him. He was going after Pompey, not for the sake of Pompey, not for the
sake of the Republic, but for loyalty. He was going because Atticus had
told him to go. But as he is going there came fresh ground for grief. He
writes to Atticus about the two boys, his son and nephew. The one is
good by nature, and has not yet gone astray. The other, the elder and
his nephew, has been encouraged by this uncle's indulgence, and has
openly adopted evil ways. In other words, he has become Caesarian--for a
reward.[129] The young Quintus has shown himself to be very false.
Cicero is so bound together with his family in their public life that
this falling off of one of them makes him unhappy. Then Curio comes the
way, and there is a most interesting conversation. It seems that Curio,
who is fond of Cicero, tells him everything; but Cicero, who doubts him,
lets him pass on. Then Caelius writes to him. Caelius implores him, for
the sake of his children, to bear in mind what he is doing. He tells him
much of Caesar's anger, and asks him if he cannot become Caesarian; at any
rate to betake himself to some retreat till the storm shall pass by and
quieter days should come. But Caelius, though it had suited Cicero to
know him intimately, had not read the greatness of the man's mind. He
did not understand in the least the difficulty which pervaded Cicero. To
Caelius it was play--play in which a man might be beaten, or banished, or
slaughtered; but it was a game in which men were fighting each for
himself. That there should be a duty in the matter, beyond that, was
inexplicable to Caelius. And his children, too--his anger against young
Quintus and his forgiveness of Marcus! He thinks that Quintus had been
purchased by a large bribe on Caesar's side, and is thankful that it is
no worse with him. What can have been worse to a young man than to have
been open to such payment? Antony is frequently on the scene, and
already disgusts us by the vain frivolity and impudence of his life. And
then Cicero's eyes afflict him, and he cannot see. Servius Sulpicius
comes to him weeping. For Servius, who is timid and lachrymose,
everything has gone astray. And then there is that Dionysius who had
plainly told him that he desired to follow some richer or some readier
master. At the last comes the news of his Tullia's child's birth.