Imperium

hit him. “They were right to take away the powers of the tribunes, just as they were right to try to stop that provincial parvenu, Pompey. And if you had any sense, you would go to them now with this, and you would say to them, ‘Gentlemen, this is what Crassus and Caesar are proposing to do—support me and I shall try to put a stop to it!’”
    Cicero sighed in exasperation and slumped back onto the couch. For a while he was silent. But then he suddenly glanced up at her. “By heavens, Terentia,” he said quietly, “what a clever shrew you are.” He jumped up and kissed her on the cheek. “My brilliant, clever shrew—you are quite correct. Or rather, half correct, for there is actually no need for me to do anything with it at all. I should simply pass it to Hortensius. Tiro, how long would it take you to make a fair copy of this transcript—not of all of it necessarily, just enough to whet Hortensius’s appetite?”
    “A few hours,” I said, bewildered by his dramatic change of mood.
    “Quick!” he said, more alive with excitement than I can ever remember seeing him. “Fetch me a pen and paper!”
    I did as I was ordered. He dipped the nib in the inkpot, thought about it for a moment, and then wrote the following, as Terentia and I watched over his shoulder:

From: Marcus Tullius Cicero
To: Quintus Hortensius Hortalus
Greetings!
I feel it is my patriotic duty to share with you in confidence this record of a meeting held last night at the home of M. Crassus, involving G. Caesar, L. Catilina, G. Hybrida, P. Sura, and various candidates for the tribuneship whose names will be familiar to you. I intend to tackle certain of these gentlemen in a speech to the Senate today, and if you would care to discuss the matter further, I shall be afterwards at the home of our esteemed mutual friend T. Atticus.

    “That should do the trick,” he said, blowing on the ink to dry it. “Now, Tiro, make as full a copy of your notes as you can, being sure to include all the passages which will make their blue blood run cold, and deliver it, together with my letter, personally into the hands of Hortensius—personally, mark you: not to any aide—at least an hour before the Senate meets. Also, send one of the lads with a message to Atticus, asking him to call on me before I leave.” He gave me the letter and hurried out the door.
    “Do you want me to ask Sositheus or Laurea to bring in your clients?” I called after him, for by now I could hear them queuing outside in the street. “When do you want the doors opened?”
    “No clients in the house this morning!” he shouted in reply, already halfway up the stairs. “They can accompany me to the Senate if they wish. You have work to do and I have a speech to compose.”
    His footsteps thumped along the boards above our heads to his room and I found myself alone with Terentia. She touched her hand to her cheek where her husband had kissed her and looked at me in puzzlement. “Speech?” she said. “What speech is he talking about?”
    But I had to confess that I had no idea, and thus can claim no hand in, or even prior knowledge of, that extraordinary piece of invective which all the world knows by the name of In toga candida .

    I WROTE AS QUICKLY and as neatly as my tiredness would allow, setting out my document like the script of a play, with the name of the speaker first, and then his remarks. I excised a great deal of what I considered irrelevant material, but then at the end I wondered if I was really competent enough to judge. Therefore I decided to keep my notebooks with me, in case I might need to refer to them during the day. Once it was done, I sealed it and placed it in a cylinder, and set off. I had to push my way through the throng of clients and well-wishers blocking the street, who clutched at my tunic and demanded to know when the senator would appear.
    Hortensius’s house on the Palatine was subsequently bought, many years later, by our dear and beloved emperor, so that gives you an idea of how fine it was. I had never been to it before and I had to stop several times and ask for directions. It was right at the top of the hill, on the southwestern side overlooking the Tiber, and one might have been in the country rather than the city, with its view over the dark green trees to the gentle silver curve of the river and the fields beyond. His brother-in-law, Catulus, as I think I have mentioned, owned the house next door, and the whole