But I say this. If, when first Aebutius told Caecina, when in the castle, that he had collected men and armed them, and that, if he came thither, he would never go away again, Caecina had at once departed, you ought not to have doubted whether violence had been offered to Caecina. But if, as soon as he had beheld the armed men, he had then departed, you would have doubted still less. For everything is violence, which, by means of danger, either compels us to depart from any place, or prevents our approaching any place. But if you determine otherwise, take care lest what you determine amounts to this, that no violence has been offered to a man who goes away alive,—take care lest you prescribe this to all men, in all disputes about possession, to think that they have a right to do battle, and to engage in actual combat, lest, just as in battle punishments are appointed for cowards by the generals, so, in courts of justice, the cause of those men who have fled may have a worse appearance than that of those men who have striven on to the last.
As we are speaking of law and of legal disputes between men, when in these matters we speak of violence, a very little violence must be considered enough. I have seen armed men—as few as you please—that is great violence. I departed, being alarmed at the weapon of one individual; I was driven away and put to flight. If you establish this rule, there will not only be no instance here after of any one wishing to have a battle for the sake of possession, but there will be no instance even of any one resisting. But if you refuse to think anything violence where there has been no slaughter, no wounding, no bloodshed, then it will follow that men ought to be more anxious about establishing their ownership, than about saving their lives.