hat he travelled with attendants, and
carried his food with him, or sent it on before. We see at every turn
how much money could do; but we see also how little money had done for
the general comfort of the people. Brundisium is above three hundred
miles from Rome, and the journey is the same which Horace took
afterward, going from the city.[131] Much had then been done to make
travelling comfortable, or at any rate cheaper than it had been
four-and-twenty years before. But now the journey was not made. He
reminds Atticus in the letter that if he had not written through so long
an interval it was not because there had been a dearth of subjects. It
had been no doubt prudent for a man to be silent when so many eyes and
so many ears were on the watch. He writes again some days later, and
assures Atticus that Caesar thinks well of his "lictors!" Oh those
eternal lictors! "But what have I to do with lictors," he says, "who am
almost ordered to leave the shores of Italy?"[132] And then Caesar had
sent angry messages. Cato and Metellus had been said to have come home.
Caesar did not choose that this should be so, and had ordered them away.
It was clearly manifest to every man alive now that Caesar was the actual
master of Italy.

During the whole of this winter he is on terms with Terentia, but he
writes to her in the coldest strain. There are many letters to Terentia,
more in number than we have ever known before, but they are all of the
same order. I translate one here to show the nature of his
correspondence: "If you are well, I am so also. The times are such that
I expect to hear nothing from yourself, and on my part have nothing to
write. Nevertheless, I look for your letters, and I write to you when a
messenger is going to start. Voluminia ought to have understood her duty
to you, and should have done what she did do better. There are other
things, however, which I care for more, and grieve for more bitterly--as
those have wished who have driven me from my own opinion."[133] Again he
writes to Atticus, deploring that he should have been born--so great are
his troubles--or, at any rate, that one should have been born after him
from the same mother. His brother has addressed him in anger--his
brother, who has desired to make his own affairs straight with Caesar,
and to swim down the stream pleasantly with other noble Romans of the
time. I can imagine that with Quintus Cicero there was nothing much
higher than the wealth whi