[-17-] Caesar, however (whom since he had taken the field Clodius could make arbiter of the proposition only by assembling the throng outside the walls), condemned the lawlessness of the action taken in regard to Lentulus, but still did not approve the punishment proposed for it.  Every one knew, he said, all that had been in his mind concerning the events of that time—­he had cast his vote for letting the men live—­but it was not fitting for any such law to be drawn up touching events now past.  This was Caesar’s statement; Crassus showed some favor to Cicero through his son but himself took the side of the multitude.  Pompey kept promising the orator assistance, but by making various excuses at different times and arranging purposely many journeys out of town failed to defend him.

Cicero seeing this was frightened and again undertook to resort to arms,—­among other things he did was to abuse Pompey openly with insults—­but was prevented by Cato and Hortensius, for fear a civil war might result.  Then at last, against his will, with shame and the ill-repute of having gone into exile voluntarily, as if conscience-stricken, he departed.  Before leaving he ascended the Capitol and dedicated a little image of Minerva, whom he styled “protectress.”  It was to Sicily that he secretly betook himself.  He had once been governor there, and entertained a lively hope that he would be honored among its towns and private citizens and by its rulers.

On his departure the law took effect; so far from meeting with any opposition, it was supported, as soon as he was once out of the way, by those very persons (among others) who were thought to be the foremost movers in Cicero’s behalf.  His property was confiscated, his house was razed to the ground, as though it had been an enemy’s, and its foundation was dedicated for a temple of Liberty.  Upon the orator himself exile was imposed, and a continued stay in Sicily was forbidden him:  he was banished three thousand seven hundred and fifty stadia[43] from Rome, and it was further proclaimed that if he should ever appear within those limits, both he and those who harbored him might be killed with impunity.

[-18-] He, accordingly, went over to Macedonia and was living in the depths of grief.  But there met him a man named Philiscus, who had made his acquaintance in Athens and now by chance fell in with him again.

“Are you not ashamed, Cicero,” said this person, “to be weeping and behaving like a woman?  Really, I should never have expected that you, who have partaken of much education of every kind, who have acted as advocate to many, would grow so faint-hearted.”

“Ah,” replied the other, “it’s not the same thing, Philiscus, to speak for others as to advise one’s own self.  The words spoken in others’ behalf, proceeding from a mind that stands erect, undeteriorated, have the greatest possible effect.  But when some affliction overwhelms the spirit, it is made turbid and dark and can not think out anything appropriate.  Wherefore, I suppose, it has well been said that it is easier to counsel others than one’s self to be strong under suffering.”