CICERO AND CATULLUS

SCENE I.

CICERO'S DINING-ROOM IN ROME. THE DATE IS 56 B.C. On the previous day MARCUS CAELIUS RUFUS, who three years before had supplanted CATULLUS in the affections of CLODIA, had been brought to trial by ATRATIN US, CLODIA's latest and youngest lover, on a charge of having attempted to poison her, and had been acquitted, thanks to the speeches of CICERO and CRASSUS, who had been retained for the defence. The present dinner-party is given by CICERO in celebration of that acquittal. Dessert has been brought in, and the slaves have left the room.

CICERO (with a little premonitory cough, addresses his guests). Gentlemen and ladies, I have a pleasant duty to perform, a toast to propose. I ask you to drink the health of Marcus Caelius Rufus.

(The guests, surprised and delighted by so short a speech from the eloquent orator, drink the toast with enthusiasm.)

CICERO. I will now ask Marcus Crassus to say something of the hero of the occasion.

MARCUS CRASSUs (half-rising from his couch). Honestly, I would rather have added nothing to-day to what I said yesterday in court. There are things (why should I not say it in confidence where all are friends ?) which are best buried in oblivion, and I hope I may say without offence that I regard this episode in the life of my young friend as one of them. I do not mean that we love him less because he has not been altogether exempt from the follies and the faults of youth. I would not have him other than he is; but he will, I know, pardon me for saying that what is perhaps permissible to nonage may be unpardonable in mature manhood. And yet in conclusion I must add that I can conceive of no circumstances which would alter the affection which I personally feel for him, and which I am convinced that all of us in this room feel for one who without exaggeration may be called the friend of all.

(CRASSUS has spoken with obvious sincerity, and his words are warmly welcomed by the whole company. Before the applause has ceased, CICERO, with a majestic wave of the hand, requests silence and begins again.)

Gentlemen and ladies, I could have wished that our impulsive young friend, the poet Catullus, were here to join

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with us in congratulating one who was and (now that a certain too popular lady is effaced) assuredly will again be his most intimate friend. But although neither he himself nor Calvus -who, I believe, is dining with him-have found it possible to be here in person, he has sent me a little particular lyric in recognition of the part I played in the acquittal of our friend Rufus yesterday-a lyric of personal congratulation. The lines-there are only seven-are delightfully impulsive, simplicity itself; in fact, if I may venture to prophesy, I believe that when Latin is taught to the most distant and barbarous nations which may some day submit to our rule and profit by our civilization-nations on the very fringe of Nature, such as the Britons and the Ethiopians-it is more than possible that these seven lines may become traditional in elementary schools, and may even be selected as the earliest exercise in translation for the children of those barbarians, partly because it is inconceivable that even a child could fail to apprehend their meaning, and partly because it may inspire the wish to make the acquaintance of Rome's most eloquent poets and orators.

M. C. RUFUS. May I beg and orator to read the lines?

(CICERO pauses impressively.) Rome's most eloquent poet

CICERO (bowing to RUFUS). Very gladly; but one word first for everyone's guidance. The little lyric was obviously thrown off without premeditation, possibly soon after the news of the jury's verdict reached the poet. I infer that from the fact that they are written without a single stop. Fortunately that makes little difference, for of the poet's meaning no doubt is possible. Pindar's lines about certain sayings which "to the wise are full of meaning," but "for the general crave an interpeter" would be here quite ludicrously inappropriate. Rather, as Pindar also said, and I have emphasized the fact already, "a child could understand." I will read you the lines and you shall judge for yourselves; then I will pass them round for you all to read. I have inserted the half-dozen inevitable commas. Now:

Most fluent of the sons of Rome,

That are and were and are to come,
Mark Tully; very heartily

Catullus thanks you, even he

The worst of poets, all there be,
As much the worst, as you of all

Are best Attorney-General.

(Loud applause follows, and CICERO's health is proposed and drunk with all the honours. Then, with obvious affection,

the guests call for RUFUS, who at last, with undisguised emotion, says :)

I cannot attempt to thank my honoured friends, Marcus Cicero and Marcus Crassus, as they deserve; I will content myself with stating the incontrovertible fact that I owe them, if not life itself, at any rate everything that makes life worth living. And I can assure Marcus Crassus that I do intend from this night on to try to live a little less unworthily. Is not his own most gallant son my friend? And all here will admit that if I should ever prove not quite unworthy of that friendship I shall not only have redeemed my lost character, but shall have deserved high commendation from all who love their country. My debt to Marcus Cicero is equally great. Everyone agrees with Catullus, whose poem we have been privileged to hear a moment ago, that Marcus Tullius is the most fluent-nay, might we not say the most inspired ?-orator among all the sons of Rome, and best, immeasurably best, Attorney-General; but to me he is something far more than that. He is one who has added dignity to all the great public offices which he has filled, and in the private relations of life has proved himself, if it is not impertinent for a young man to say so, the ideal father, husband, brother, and friend. Indeed, though I have strayed myself from the right path not seldom, most certainly I have not lacked high ensamples of virtue; and I call all the gods and goddesses to witness that, to-night at least, I am not ungrateful.

(The speech of RUFUS is applauded warmly and affectionately by all present. A slave enters and gives CICERO a dozen copies of the poem of CATULLUS, beautifully written on royal sheets of paper, all evened with pumice and ruled with lead. CICERO distributes these to his guests, and general conversation is resumed.)

SCENE II.

On his way home the same night RUFUS meets CALVUS, brotherpoet and bosom-friend of CATULLUS, as once RUFUS himself had been; but CALVUS would have passed without recognition if RUFUS had not stopped him.

RUFUS. I sometimes think you don't like me as well as I like you? (CALVUS is silent.) But never mind about that now. I want to ask you something. Has Catullus shown you the "Mark Tully" poem which Cicero has just read to us, after dinner? Anyhow here it is; he gave us each a copy.

CALVUS. Thanks; I know it by heart. So Catullus was right, as usual. He was sure that Cicero would be delighted with it and would show it to everyone. Personally, I thought that was almost too good to be true, but I was wrong. You understood, of course?

RUFUS. It puzzled me. I thought "most fluent suspicious start; but that's all.

CALVUS. All? It's only the beginning. Make a pause in the last line after "Are best," and then Catullus becomes as much the worst of all poets as Cicero is the best, and since Cicero is, in fact, the very reverse of best among the poets, Catullus rises proportionately. Besides, with a pause after "best" best" you you have have Attorney-General" as an indignant apostrophe, addressed to Cicero. Is it possible that he does not know his nickname is "Attorney-General" ?-a nickname he has certainly earned, since he never refuses a brief, however bad his client's case may be, not even if he is personally odious to him, so long as he is somebody-not even yours. RUFUS (flushing angrily). I understand. But it could

be taken as Cicero took it.

CALVUS. Precisely, and as Catullus meant him to take it. But everyone else will take it the other way. Thus :

Most fluent of the sons of Rome,
That are and were and are to come,

Mark Tully; very heartily

Catullus thanks you, even he

The worst of poets, all there be,

As much the worst as you of all

Are best-Attorney-General.

(CALVUS stressed the last two words with indignant scorn, and RUFUS was silent for a moment.)

RUFUS. I wonder what Catullus will write of me?

CALVUS. Nothing worse than-that you have broken his heart. He has written that. Only to-night he showed me six lines-I don't know when he wrote them—I have them by heart. They are these:

To Marcus Caelius Rufus, the friend who betrayed and supplanted me.
Rufus, the friend I trusted so for naught-

For naught? Ah! no, for shame and sorrow too:
So the dark thief who seared my soul, and wrought
My doom, and ravished all my joy was you,

You the fell poison of my life to-day

You, you upon whose breast my friendship lay.

You alone can understand fully all that those lines mean, since it is to you that they are addressed; but all can under

stand that you poisoned his life long before Clodia tried to take yours by poison, as you assert that she did.

(After saying this, CALVUS passes on quickly, leaving MARCUS CAELIUS RUFUS to the midnight and his conscience.)

A ROOM IN ALEXANDRIA.

SCENE III.

THE TIME IS DECEMBER, A.D. 48.

CAESAR. Any news of Marcus Caelius Rufus ?

A.D.C. Yes, sire. He is reported killed at Thurii by some Spanish cavalry whom he attempted to bribe.

CAESAR. He was starting a revolution on his own account, was he not ?

A.D.C. So it is said, sire. Anyhow, Rome is well rid of him. He will not be missed.

CAESAR. There I don't agree with you. He will be missed. He was loved.

A.D.C. But surely, sire, among other things he was false to poor Catullus, his best friend.

CAESAR. He was. But love isn't earned. It just comes or stays away. (Thoughtfully.) In my own In my own case it has stayed away.

A.D.C. Sire ?

CAESAR. It has stayed away. But once, some six years ago, I very nearly made a friend, who might perhaps have loved me.

A.D.C. Sire ? CAESAR. You want to know the friend's name? Guess. A.D.C. There is only one man living who could aspire to your friendship-Cicero.

CAESAR. It is true his name began with C. Leave me. (The A.D.C. goes, and CAESAR takes from the folds of his toga a slim volume of poetry, which he kisses before opening it; then he turns over the leaves in search of a particular poem. It is soon found, and he begins reading: "Rufus, the friend I trusted so for naught." After reading it through he rolls up the volume, glancing at every page, till he comes to the Cicero poem. He reads it and smiles sorrowfully, then mutters: Catullus never would have hurt him; he laughed at him, but liked him really." Then he tinkles a hand-bell.)

A.D.C. (entering). Sire?

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CAESAR. If Cicero comes to Brundisium, he is to wait there for my return. He is to be treated with respect, (then