had sent to him.
In another he speaks of a Greek tutor who has deserted him, a certain
Dionysius, and he boils over with anger. His letters to Atticus about
the Greek tutor are amusing at this distance of time, because they show
his eagerness. "I never knew anything more ungrateful; and there is
nothing worse than ingratitude."[124]

He heaps his scorn upon Pompey: "It is true, indeed, that I said that it
was better to be conquered with him than to conquer with those others. I
would indeed. But of what Pompey was it that I so spoke? Was it of this
one who flies he knows not what, nor whom, nor whither he will
fly?"[125] He writes again the same day: "Pompey had fostered Caesar, and
then had feared him. He had left the city; he had lost Picenum by his
own fault, he had betaken himself to Apulia! Then he went into Greece,
leaving us in the dark as to his plans!" He excuses a letter of his own
to Caesar. He had written to Caesar in terms which might be pleasing to
the great man. He had told Caesar of Caesar's admirable wisdom. Was it not
better so? He was willing that his letter should be read aloud to all
the people, if only those of Pompey might also be read aloud. Then
follow copies of a correspondence between him and Pompey. In the last he
declares[126] that "when he had written from Canusium he had not dreamed
that Pompey was about to cross the sea. He had known that Pompey had
intended to treat for peace--for peace even under unjust conditions--but
he had never thought that Pompey was meditating a retreat out of Italy."
He argues well and stoutly, and does take us along with him. Pompey had
been beaten back from point to point, never once rallying himself
against Caesar. He had failed, and had slipped away, leaving a man here
and there to stand up for the Republic. Pompey was willing to risk
nothing for Rome. It had come to pass at last that he was being taught
Caesarism by Caesar, and when he died was more imperial than his master.

At this time Cicero's eyes were bad. "Mihi molestior lippitudo erat
etiam quam ante fuerat." And again, "Lippitudinis meae signum tibi sit
librarii manus." But we may doubt whether any great men have lived so
long with so little to tease them as to their health. And yet the amount
of work he got through was great. He must have so arranged his affairs
as to have made the most he could of his hours, and have carried in his
memory information on all subjects. When we remember the size of th