Cato the Younger

While Cato was still in military service, his brother, who was on his way to Asia, fell sick at Aenus in Thrace, and a letter came at once to Cato advising him of this. A heavy storm was raging at sea and no ship of sufficient size was at hand, but nevertheless, taking only two friends and three servants with him in a small trading-vessel, he put to sea from Thessalonica.

He narrowly escaped drowning, and by some unaccountable good fortune came safe to land, but Caepio had just died. In bearing this affliction Cato was thought to have shown more passion than philosophy, considering not only his lamentations, his embracings of the dead, and the heaviness of his grief, but also his expenditure upon the burial, and the pains that he took to have incense and costly raiment burned with the body, and a monument of polished Thasian marble costing eight talents constructed in the market-place of Aenus.

For some people cavilled at these things as inconsistent with Cato’s usual freedom from ostentation, not observing how much tenderness and affection was mingled with the man’s inflexibility and firmness against pleasures, fears, and shameless entreaties. For the funeral rites, moreover, both cities and dynasts sent him many things for the honour of the dead, from none of whom would he accept money; he did, however, take incense and ornaments, and paid the value of them to the senders.

Furthermore, when the inheritance fell to him and Caepio’s young daughter, nothing that he had expended for the funeral was asked back by him in the distribution of the property. And although such was his conduct then and afterwards, there was one[*](Julius Caesar, in his Anti-Cato. See the Caesar, chapter liv.) who wrote that he passed the ashes of the dead through a sieve, in search of the gold that had been melted down. So confidently did the writer attribute, not only to his sword, but also to his pen, freedom from accountability and punishment.