There is a person Gavius, who, after I had offered him a post as prefect at Brutus’ request, said and did a good deal to disparage me. He is Clodius’ puppydog. He did not condescend to be one of my escort when I left Apamea, nor, when he came into camp later and was leaving it, did he ask if I had any commissions. For some unknown reason he was an
non amicus. Hunc ego si in praefectis habuissem, quem tu me hominem putares? Qui, ut scis, potentissimorum hominum contumaciam numquam tulerim, ferrem huius adseculae? etsi hoc plus est quam ferre, tribuere etiam aliquid beneficii et honoris. Is igitur Gavius, cum Apameae me nuper vidisset Romam proficiscens, me ita appellavit, ut Culleolum vix auderem: “Unde,” inquit, “me iubes petere cibaria praefecti?” Respondi lenius, quam putabant oportuisse, qui aderant, me non instituisse iis dare cibaria, quorum opera non essem usus. Abiit iratus. Huius nebulonis oratione si Brutus moveri potest, licebit eum solus ames, me aemulum non habebis. Sed illum eum futurum esse puto, qui esse debet. Tibi tamen causam notam esse volui et ad ipsum haec perscripsi diligentissime. Omnino (soli enim sumus) nullas umquam ad me litteras misit Brutus, ne proxime quidem de Appio, in quibus non inesset adrogans, ἀκοινονόητον aliquid. Tibi autem valde solet in ore esse:
Lucilius.
“Granius autem
Non contemnere se et reges odisse superbos.”
In quo tamen ille mihi risum magis quam stomachum movere solet. Sed plane parum cogitat, quid scribat aut ad quem.
Q. Cicero puer legit, ut opinor, et certe, epistulam inscriptam patri suo. Solet enim aperire idque de meo consilio, si quid forte sit, quod opus sit sciri. In ea autem epistula erat idem illud de sorore quod ad me. Mirifice conturbatum vidi puerum. Lacrimans
open enemy of mine. If I had counted such a fellow among my prefects, you might doubt what kind of creature I am. You know I will not brook discourtesy from men of power, and should I put up with it from this hanger-on? Though, to be sure, gracious bestowal of honour is something more than putting up with a man. So Gavius, when on his road to Rome he saw me lately at Apamea, addressed me as I should scarcely address Culleolus. “Where,” said he, “am I to look for my pickings?” I answered less sternly than those present thought proper, that I was not accustomed to give pickings to men whose services I had not used. He went off in a temper. If Brutus listens to the talk of such a shady customer, you may have him to yourself. I shall not be your rival. But I think he will behave all right. However I wanted you to know the circumstances, and I have recounted the matter very fully to Brutus. Between ourselves Brutus has never sent me a letter, not even lately about Appius, without a touch of arrogance and intolerance. You often quote the lines,
“But Granius too
Has self-conceit and hates the pride of kings.”