There was one man in the City whom those great commotions did not affect, Brutus by name, a choice consul of the Romans, a man brave and highspirited, whose heart would not sink though he should receive much evil. He uplifted not his mind though Fortune should give him much wealth. That man came in the dusk of the end of the night to the house of his mother's brother, that is, to Cato's house, to know and to take counsel with him as to what proceeding they should take in waiting on the battle, that is, should they go to the battle with Pompey or with Caesar? Or should they wait until they knew which of the leaders would be routed? For whichever of them was victorious would be eager to get peace with Brutus and Cato, for of the Romans there were not two consuls who could often be equalled to them.
This is the counsel that was approved by him, to wit, Brutus, not to go with either, but to wait till they knew which of the two leaders would be victorious. For he would deem it wrong to be preparing for a battle in which a son would kill his father, or a father his son, or one brother another. And also he did not deign to unite with that immoral folk who were going to the Civil War in order to avenge their (private) wrongs (?), for they were not strong (enough) to avenge them in time of peace or goodwill.
So Brutus came and discussed that counsel in Cato's presence. Thus was Cato when he came to him, gloomy, sad, uneasy, sleepless, searching and scrutinizing how should be the arrangements of the City and the proceedings of the people and of the Roman senate in prospect of the great injury which was threatening them. This is the answer which he gave to the speech that Brutus made to him:
‘'Tis true, indeed’, quoth he, ‘that it is wrong in the extreme any one to proceed to Civil War. Still who could endure without fear to abate (his) strength and hands if he saw the stars of heaven and the firmament itself rushing down and falling before him on the swarded surface of the earth? No more shall I endure to see the fall of Rome without helping her. Great would be the pity if I were to be alone in solitude, when the stranger nations of the world are astir at this uprising that has happened in Rome. It shall not be so, but I will give my war-service in the way that the whole senate will give it, namely, with Pompey; for he has not come against Rome as Caesar has done. And another thing then: if we are together helping Pompey, not to himself will he ascribe the victory that he will gain, but it will be to us, and his pride will be the less after grasping the kingship again.’
There is Cato's speech.
So Brutus agreed with that speech of his mother's brother. The pride of his spirit arose, and the pressing on of the Civil War grew in his mind, so that there was none of the Romans with whom the waging of the Civil War was more desirable.
Now when they were there, when the darkness of the end of the night is divided from the pale light of the beginning of day, they heard a blow of the knocker on the door of the house. 'Tis there was the wife whom Cato had in his youth once upon a time. Marcia was her name, and in the space of three years she had borne three sons to Cato. He happened to have a certain male friend in Rome, named Hortensius. No children were borne to him. That was a great grief to Cato, so he did this: he gave his own wife to Hortensius to bear children to him, she being prolific. So in three years the woman bore him three sons. Thereafter Hortensius came and offered the same woman to Cato that she might bear more children to him. ‘Nay’, said Cato, ‘so great is my honour in Rome
Some time afterwards Hortensius died. When Hortensia had performed his burial rites and his wailing lamentations she came tearfully and sadly to Cato's house just when the colloquy occurred between him and his sister's son Brutus. She began speaking to Cato and entreating him to let her wait on him and serve him like any of his handmaids. For she said that she came not with a mind to wedlock: for her it would be enough of good from him when her name should be inscribed on the forefront of her tomb, and that (there) she should be styled Cato's wife.
She said that she was not asking for quiet or ease, for she came with a view to battle and the uprise of great warfare, but (only) to be waiting on him and serving him wherever Fortune would cast him in preparing for the great battle. She also said that he should not be ashamed of her being in his company, even in exile, since Pompey's consort Cornelia was in company of that high-king.
By that entreaty Cato's mind was influenced, and he gave leave to Marcia to dwell along with him. Without pomp or superstitious rite was that arrangement made between Cato and Marcia. Save Brutus only, neither sureties nor witnesses were sought by them. Neither soothsayers nor sages were asked, as is customary at weddings. No tabu was avoided by them, and no luck was venerated. No wedding ornament was on the man or the woman, for there was a (lasting) look of sorrow on her face after her husband's death. No less did grief appear on Cato, for from the first hour that he perceived the stirring up and uprising of the great warfare, he never washed or bathed, he never cleansed his face or laved his s
One of his customs was to complete and bring to an end every thing to which he put his hand. All his anxiety and care used to be to safeguard the fatherland. Sure and certain was he that it was not for his own sake he had been sent into the world, but for the sake of everyone whom he could benefit therein. His enjoyment never went beyond what was meet. What would deprive him of hunger was food enough for him. Enough of clothing was the protection of his limbs from cold and nakedness. Of houses it was enough to protect him from foul weather and storm. One of his customs was not to have connexion with his wife save only at the season of conception. So long as he remained in the City he was its father and husband. There was no one in Rome who did not profit by him. While he lived he was reverencing righteousness and answering beautiful deeds. His desire never marred the response of his good works.
So far the tidings of Cato and the folk of Rome.