Then he hears that his friend is in bed with the gout.

“I am extremely sorry to hear it, as in duty bound; still, I am quite determined to come, that I may see you, and pay my visit,—­yes, and have my dinner:  for I suppose your cook has not got the gout as well”.

Such were the playful epistles of a busy man.  But even in some of these lightest effusions we see the cares of the statesman showing through.  Here is a portion of a later letter to the same friend.

“I am very much concerned to hear you have given up going out to dinner; for it is depriving yourself of a great source of enjoyment and gratification.  Then, again, I am afraid—­for it is as well to speak honestly—­lest you should unlearn certain old habits of yours, and forget to give your own little dinners.  For if formerly, when you had good examples to imitate, you were still not much of a proficient in that way, how can I suppose you will get on now?  Spurina, indeed, when I mentioned the thing to him, and explained your previous habits, proved to demonstration that there would be danger to the highest interests of the state if you did not return to your old ways in the spring.  But indeed, my good Paetus, I advise you, joking apart, to associate with good fellows, and pleasant fellows, and men who are fond of you.  There is nothing better worth having in life, nothing that makes life more happy....  See how I employ philosophy to reconcile you to dinner-parties.  Take care of your health; and that you will best do by going out to dinner....  But don’t imagine, as you love me, that because I write jestingly I have thrown off all anxiety about public affairs.  Be assured, my dear Paetus, that I seek nothing and care for nothing, night or day, but how my country may be kept safe and free.  I omit no opportunity of advising, planning, or acting.  I feel in my heart that if in securing this I have to lay down my life, I shall have ended it well and honourably”.

III.  HIS BROTHER QUINTUS.

Between Marcus Cicero and his younger brother Quintus there existed a very sincere and cordial affection—­somewhat warmer, perhaps, on the side of the elder, inasmuch as his wealth and position enabled him rather to confer than to receive kindnesses; the rule in such cases being (so cynical philosophers tell us) that the affection is lessened rather than increased by the feeling of obligation.  He almost adopted the younger Quintus, his nephew, and had him educated with his own son; and the two cousins received their earlier training together in one or other of Marcus Cicero’s country-houses under a clever Greek freedman of his, who was an excellent scholar, and—­what was less usual amongst his countrymen, unless Cicero’s estimate of them does them great injustice—­a very honest man, but, as the two boys complained, terribly passionate.  Cicero himself, however, was the head tutor—­an office for which, as he modestly writes, his Greek studies fully qualified him.  Quintus Cicero behaved ill to his brother after the battle of Pharsalia, making what seem to have been very unjust accusations against him in order to pay court to Caesar; but they soon became friends again.