Translated by Evelyn Shuckburgh

To C. Trebatius Testa in Gaul, from Rome, September 54 BC

It is a long time since I heard how you were getting on: for you don't write, nor have I written to you for the last two months. As you were not with my brother Quintus I did not know where to send a letter, or to whom to give it. I am anxious to know how you are and where you mean to winter. For my part, my opinion is that you should do so with Caesar; but I have not ventured to write to him owing to his mourning.[1] I would rather you put off your return to us, so long as you come with fuller pockets. There is nothing to make you hurry home, especially since "Battara"[2] is dead. But you are quite capable of thinking for yourself. I desire to know what you have settled. There is a certain Cn. Octavius or Cn. Cornelius, a friend of yours,

Of highest race begot, a son of Earth.

He has frequently asked me to dinner, because he knows that you are an intimate friend of mine. At present he has not succeeded in getting me: however, I am much obliged to him.


  1. For the death (in September) of his daughter Iulia, wife of Pompey.
  2. A nickname, it is said, of Vacerra (perhaps because he stuttered), who had been a teacher of Trebatius.