Cato the Younger

Cato got together nearly seven thousand talents of silver, and fearing the long voyage home, he had many coffers provided, each one of which would hold two talents and five hundred drachmas, and attached to each of them a long rope, to the end of which a huge piece of cork was fastened. This, he thought, in case the vessel were wrecked, would hold to its deep mooring and indicate the place where the treasure lay.

Well, then, the money, except a very little, was safely transported; but although he had the accounts of all his administration of the estate carefully written out in two books, neither of these was preserved. One of them a freedman of his, Philargyrus by name, had in charge, but after putting to sea from Cenchreae he was capsized and lost it, together with his cargo; the other Cato himself had safely carried as far as Corcyra, where he pitched his tent in the marketplace.

But because it was so cold the sailors built many fires during the night, the tents caught fire, and the book disappeared. It is true that the royal stewards who were at hand were ready to stop the mouths of Cato’s enemies and traducers, but nevertheless the matter gave him annoyance. For it was not as a proof of his own integrity, but as an example to others of scrupulous exactness that he was eager to produce his accounts, and he was therefore vexed.

The Romans did not fail to hear of his arrival[*](In 56 B.C.) with his ships, and all the magistrates and priests, the whole senate, and a large part of the people went to the river to meet him, so that both banks of the stream were hidden from view, and his voyage up to the city had all the show and splendour of a triumph.

Yet some thought it ungracious and stubborn that, although the consuls and praetors were at hand, he neither landed to greet them, nor checked his course, but on a royal galley of six banks of oars swept past the bank where they stood, and did not stop until he had brought his fleet to anchor in the dock-yard.