The Letters of Cicero, Volume 1 | Page 6

Cumæ,
or Pompeii, near all of which he acquired properties, besides an
inheritance at Arpinum.[4] But the important achievements in literature
were still in the future. The few letters of B.C. 68-67 are full of
directions to Atticus for the collection of books or works of art suitable
to his house, and of matters of private interest. They are also short and
sometimes abrupt. The famous allusion to his father's death in the
second letter of this collection, contained in a single line--pater nobis
decessit a.d. 111 Kal. Decembris--followed by directions to Atticus as
to articles of vertu for his villa, has much exercised the minds of
admirers, who do not like to think Cicero capable of such a
cold-hearted sentence. It is certainly very unlike his usual manner.[5]
He is more apt to exaggerate than understate his emotions; and in the
first letter extant he speaks with real feeling of the death of a cousin.
Elsewhere--as we have seen--he refers to his father with respect and
gratitude. How then are we to account for such a cold announcement?
Several expedients have been hit upon. First, to change decessit to
discessit, and to refer the sentence to the father's quitting Rome, and not
life; in which case it is not easy to see why the information is given at

all. Second, to suppose it to be a mere answer to a request for the
information on the part of Atticus; in which case the date must refer to
some previous year, or the letter must be placed considerably later, to
allow of time for Atticus to hear of the death and to write his question.
In favour of the first is the fact that Asconius (§ 82) says that Cicero
lost his father when he was a candidate for the consulship (B.C. 64).
Some doubt has been thrown upon the genuineness of the passage in
Asconius; and, if that is not trustworthy, we have nothing else to help
us. On the whole I think we must leave the announcement as it stands
in all its baldness. Cicero's father had long been an invalid, and Atticus
may have been well aware that the end was expected. He would also be
acquainted with the son's feelings towards his father, and Cicero may
have held it unnecessary to enlarge upon them. It is possible, too, that
he had already written to tell Atticus of the death and of his own
feelings, but had omitted the date, which he here supplies. Whatever
may be the true explanation--impossible now to recover--everything we
know of Cicero forbids us to reckon insensibility among his faults, or
reserve in expressing his feelings among his characteristics.
[Sidenote: The Prætorship, B.C. 66.]
In the next year (B.C. 67) we find Cicero elected to the prætorship,
after at least two interruptions to the comitia, which, though not aimed
at himself, gave him a foretaste of the political troubles to come a few
years later. He is, however, at present simply annoyed at the
inconvenience, not yet apprehensive of any harm to the constitution.
The double postponement, indeed, had the effect of gratifying his
vanity: for his own name was returned three times first of the list of
eight. His prætorship (B.C. 66) passed without any startling event. The
two somewhat meagre letters which remain belonging to this year tell
us hardly anything. Still he began more or less to define his political
position by advocating the lex Manilia, for putting the Mithridatic war
into the hands of Pompey; and one of his most elaborate forensic
speeches--that for Cluentius--was delivered in the course of the year: in
which also his brother Quintus was elected to the ædileship.
[Sidenote: B.C. 65-64. Preparations for the Consulship.]

So far Cicero had risen steadily and without serious difficulty up the
official ladder. But the stress was now to come. The old families seem
not to have been so ready to oppose the rise of the novus homo to the
prætorship. It was the consulship on which they tried to keep a tight
hand. Accordingly, immediately after the year of his prætorship, we
find him anxiously looking out for support and inquiring who are likely
to be his competitors. The interesting point in regard to this is his
connexion with Catiline. In his speech in the senate delivered in the
following year (in toga candida, B.C. 64) he denounced Catiline in the
most violent language, accusing him of every conceivable crime; yet in
B.C. 65 he not only contemplated being elected with him without any
expression of disgust, but even considered whether he should not
undertake his defence on some charge that was being brought against
him--perhaps for his conduct during the Sullan proscriptions. To
whitewash Catiline is a hopeless task; and it throws a lurid light upon
the