We now come to Catiline, who, as an English writer says of Cromwell, is
“damned to everlasting fame;” a saying which is far more applicable to
him, as even Cromwell was an angel when compared with Catiline. In
Italian tales (in Malespini, for instance), he is so much the hero of
crime, and become such a popular character, that the vulgar corruption
of his name, which indeed is but a slight one (_Catellina_), has found
its way into the Latin manuscripts. I refer you for his history to
Sallust, who has written it with great truthfulness, giving every one
his due, and doing full justice even to Cicero, without heeding the
silly gossip of the people. He was himself, at that time, already a
young man and capable of observation; and he also became very soon
afterwards acquainted with the first men, such as Cæsar and Crassus.
Catiline, according to Cicero and Sallust, was indeed an extraordinary
being, endowed with all the qualities of a great man in such times: he
was of unequalled bravery and daring, and of giant strength of body and
mind; yet so thoroughly Satanic a creature, that his like is hardly to
be found in history, even though his oath, in taking which he drank the
blood of a child mixed with wine, and caused his conspirators to do the
same, may be but an idle tale. He had been a soldier of Sylla, and had
greatly distinguished himself in his days: he therefore found himself in
the same condition as the _Terroristes_ and the _Septembriseurs_ were
under the consulship, after the eighteenth of Brumaire. After terrible
civil wars, there remains for many persons who have allowed themselves
the greatest excesses, nothing but to return to bloodshed, even though
they have nothing particular to gain by it. It is altogether a doubtful
question, and one concerning which I have not been able to form any
positive opinion, what Catiline had in view. If we suppose that he had a
definite purpose, to attain which his crimes were only as means, his
object cannot be made out; but if crime itself was his object, then we
may understand his character. We have only to represent to ourselves
clearly the utter demoralization of that age: the anarchy of Athens
which is so much spoken of, was nothing in comparison to that of Rome;
it had settled down into forms of its own, and Athens was but a small
state. But in Rome there were some hundreds, or at most some thousands
of men, who were the masters of the world: these were divided among
themselves, recognising no law, no order, and striving by hook or by
crook to get their own ends, whilst the republic was a mere name and no
one paid any regard to the existing laws. There were, for instance,
heavy penalties denounced against bribery at elections, which moreover
had often been re-enacted and increased; and yet every body knew that,
except in extraordinary cases, as in that of Cicero, no one could be
consul at Rome unless he spent huge sums. The _Romani rustici_ had no
weight whatever: besides the men of rank, the rabble alone had still
some importance left; and it was employed by the leading citizens to
fight their battles against each other. In such times, even a man like
Catiline might in the eyes of very ambitious people seem to be a useful
tool; and the accusation against Crassus, a man of most middling
abilities, that he wanted to use him for his own ends, is to me not at
all unlikely, although Catiline, had he been successful, would have
certainly trampled him under his feet. If Catiline had any object at
all, it was perhaps to become a second Sylla, a perpetual dictator with
absolute power; and then he would not have troubled himself for anything
more. Two years before Cicero’s consulship, he had already intended to
murder those who were consuls at that time, and to make himself master
of the republic. We know him in his most brilliant light from Cicero
himself, the very man whom he hated above all others: for he says of
him, that he had a magic power by which he fascinated and enslaved all
who came near him; that it was not uncommon for young people, having
been attracted by his gigantic qualities, to attach themselves to him;
and that whoever had once been within his reach, had never been able to
get out of his clutches. Cicero himself had defended Catiline before a
court of justice. Catiline had been an officer of high rank under Sylla,
and afterwards prætor, and an action (_repetundarum_) was brought
against him from which he had a very narrow escape: it may have been on
this occasion that Cicero was his advocate. On the whole, people had
their eyes upon him, and his designs were dreaded, though no one had the
courage to face him: it was believed that he would burn and pillage, if
he once got into power. The most opposite characters, even many of
Sylla’s partisans, were convinced that they, just as well as any one
else, would fall his victims.
Cicero now stood for the consulship. Yet though his integrity and his
transcendent talents commanded general esteem, his prospects were but
poor. With the people indeed, he was a great favourite; but the men of
rank opposed him as a _homo novus_; prætor he had been already. The
well-grounded news, however, that Catiline and the conspirators meant to
murder the candidates for the consulship, and the belief that there was
no preventing the election of C. Antonius, an uncle of the triumvir, who
was greatly suspected of a connexion with Catiline, induced the nobles
to declare for Cicero. Thus he became consul in the year 698.
Cicero was born on the 3rd of January, in the year 647 according to Cato
(649, according to Varro, which is easier to remember, as it reminds one
of the year of Goethe’s birth);[3] he was a native of the municipal town
of Arpinum, from which Marius also had come. Arpinum was by no means a
small place; on the contrary, for a provincial town in the interior of
the country, it was very large and important, and it was also one of
those which are called the Cyclopian towns: now indeed it is only a poor
place. All the men of Arpinum undoubtedly were proud of Marius, an
impression which Cicero had shared from a youth, especially as there was
some kind of relationship between his family and that of Marius. His own
family was very respectable; in a petty feud in his town, his
grandfather was on the side of the _optimates_. His father and
grandfather were acquainted with the first families in Rome, and indeed
with the enemies of Marius, with Scævola and others of the
aristocratical party; so that the discord which runs through the whole
life of Cicero, takes its beginning even then. To Marius Gratidianus he
was also akin.
Of Cicero’s youth, we only know that he very early showed activity of:
intellect, and soon began to write. His first tastes were poetical, the
first things he wrote being poems in the old Roman form: (his “Pontius
Glaucus” was written _versibus longis_.) In his poetry, he had all his
life long the old Roman tinge, whereas his prose was altogether ahead of
that of his age. What the first teaching then given in the schools was,
one cannot quite tell: thus much only is certain, that instruction in
the Greek literature and language was one of the earliest subjects in
which youthful minds were trained; just as in Germany, in my time,
children had first to learn French. Cicero came to Rome shortly before
the outbreak of the Italian war, in his fourteenth or fifteenth year;
the reason why his father sent him to Rome, was perhaps because Arpinum
lay on the borders of the Italians. At Rome, he was much with Greek
philosophers and rhetoricians, and with the most distinguished men of
the republic: he was like one of the family in the house of both the
Scævolas, and was connected with Crassus and others. He came in a time
of the greatest excitement, which is one of the lucky circumstances of
his life. It is very doubtful whether he was what we would call _aide de
camp_ to Sylla: he does not mention the fact himself; at any rate, it
can only have been for a short time, and this military career of his had
no influence upon the rest of his life, as his was anything but a
warlike mind. He also studied civil law with the great lawyer Scævola:
young men would get leave to be present in the _Atrium_ of a
jurisconsult, to listen to the legal decisions and advice which he gave
there; just as in England one still learns the law to this day, and as
was formerly done in France, a way of studying which is of infinite
advantage for able minds. Although Cicero has been reproached with not
having a systematic knowledge of the law, it was not an empty word of
his when he said, “If I wished to get up the law, it would cost me only
a few months;” for he knew an endless number of cases in point.
If we compare Cicero’s veneration for his high born patrons, with his
affection for P. Sulpicius, whose political views were diametrically
opposed to those of his older friends, we are somewhat startled; but he
follows up the truth wherever he finds it, and we may recognise in this
the inward struggle of his mind. Those old gentlemen were very
respectable; but they had not highly intellectual minds: P. Sulpicius
was full of intellect, and as he was a partisan of Marius, there was a
closer bond between him and Cicero, who felt a patriotic enthusiasm for
Marius, and, when a youth, even sang of him in a poem. When the
revolutions began, he was in no danger from either of the parties, as he
was true-hearted and friendly to both; that of Marius protected him with
good will, and that of Sylla was not fierce against him: he was grieved
to see that the wrong was on both sides. Thus, although the distracted
state of his country well nigh broke his heart, he worked by himself,
making shift with a sort of neutrality. When the time of Sylla’s rule
began, he was in his twenty-seventh year, and had already pleaded
several _causæ privatæ_. The earliest of his orations is the one _pro
Roscio comœdo_, which is much older than is generally thought, being
several years earlier than the oration _pro Quinctio_, as Garatoni has
proved. The oration _pro Quinctio_ seems first to have drawn much
attention to him, owing to the boldness with which he defended his
persecuted client: still more did he gain the high esteem of the public
by the oration _pro Sexto Roscio Amerino_, whom Chrysogonus, a freedman
of Sylla, wanted to send out of the world. It needed a truly heroic
courage for a young man not to be afraid of this dangerous favourite of
Sylla, especially for one who was himself connected with the Marian
party. He carried his point; but his friends advised him to leave Rome,
that Chrysogonus might forget him. Thus he went to Rhodes and Asia, and
completed his study of Greek. What he was deficient in, was the
knowledge of mathematics, of which he had very little, whereas the
Greeks at that time regularly made them a part of their education.
Moreover, he never systematically studied Roman history, and its writers
were not to his taste. He was fond of poetry, yet only in a limited
style: his chief favourites in literature were the Greek historians
Herodotus and Thucydides; he was also well read in Theopompus, Timæus,
and the rest of these: he enthusiastically admired the Athenian orators,
in reading whom he felt called upon to vie with them. He had the
greatest facility for work, an excellent memory, readiness and richness
of expression, all the talents of a speaker. The predominant faculty of
his mind was wit, in which he was not equalled by any man of ancient
times: it was striking, easy, lively and inexhaustible, what we should
perhaps call the French manner.
As to his personal connexions, he seems in his youth to have been
without any bosom friend: it was only in his later years that there
sprang up that pure fine friendship with Atticus which was a true and
sincere union. His brother, for whom he had indeed much brotherly
affection and love, was a worthless man, and in no way whatever to be
compared with him. Nor was he happy in his married life, having allied
himself, chiefly at the instigation of his friends, to Terentia, a
domineering disagreeable woman, who exercised an influence over him
which strangely contrasts with the fact of his never having really loved
her; for on the whole, owing to his affectionate nature, he was easily
led by those around him. She egged him on to the most dangerous
enmities, as for instance, that of Clodius. The men of the oldest
standing all looked upon him with great esteem, but none of them had any
hearty love for him.
On his return from Asia, Sylla was dead, the troubles caused by Lepidus
were over, and a reaction against the tyranny of the oligarchs had
begun. Such a reaction has in its outset a peculiarly refreshing and
conciliatory influence; the most different persons agree, and become
friends. An example of this was seen in France, from the year 1795 to
1797, when men of the most opposite kind united in their endeavours; and
also in Germany, at the time when the people rose against French
tyranny: of ten who had then been sworn allies, there are now perhaps
not two together. The general feeling at Rome was against Sylla,
although his party had still the ascendency. This shows how they lost
their power: they resigned it themselves, being tired of it; just as the
national convention did, after the death of Robespierre. Very likely,
people at Rome felt at that time much more comfortable than they had any
reason for being: the danger without from Spartacus was so great, that
it was necessary to keep close together.
Although Cicero was a _homo novus_, and had not distinguished himself in
war, he yet resolved to obtain the highest offices. One step after
another was given him with the greatest goodwill of the people; and he
acquitted himself in the most creditable manner, not for the sake of
mere show, but from the bent of his noble disposition. He was thoroughly
a man of honour, far above even the thought of anything like meanness:
to put forth all his powers, and to display them most brilliantly, was
his generous ambition. The necessity of making himself conspicuous in
order to rise, was the source of that boastfulness with which he has
been so often reproached, and which perhaps he would not have had under
other circumstances. He distinguished himself by his accusation of
Verres, but yet more by his defences; whereas the other great orators
were always engaged as accusers. It is quite striking, how many he
undertook to defend; but he also pleaded for people for whom I could not
have said one word, but rather would have accused them. This was in many
cases to be accounted for by his kindliness of soul; as for instance,
there was in the defence of M. Æmilius Scaurus, the son, an apostrophe
to the father, that deep hypocrite, who, in his later years, it is true,
was really the worthy man that he had wished to seem in his earlier
ones. Cicero had personally much admiration for him, having been kindly
received by him when a youth; and it might perhaps have immensely
flattered him to be noticed by such a man. Scaurus was a _grand
seigneur_, the first man of the republic as _princeps senatus_ and
censor, and Cicero did not know him from history as we do. Thus I
confess that a certain great statesman, in whose house I almost lived in
my youth, appears to me in quite a different light from what he would if
I had not personally known him. Cicero may after all have been chiefly
led by the feeling, that he was sparing the manes of a man, who as it
were had inaugurated him for life, the grief of having his son
condemned. Vatinius he also defended, after having once pleaded against
him. Vatinius, however, was not that bad man which he would seem from
Cicero’s passionate speech; the latter had dealt his blows too hard.
Cicero had forgiven him, as he could not but pity him when he was in
such distress; and his gratitude to Cicero, as expressed in his letters,
shows him to have been no villain. Cicero thought it a dispensation of
providence, that he had power to take his part: the consciousness of
being able to give protection by his talent, was the highest delight of
his life. For having pleaded for Gabinius, he is indeed to be blamed;
but this was a sacrifice which he made to the republic in order to gain
Pompey over to the good cause, and it was very hard for him to do. For
it was the misfortune of that age, that to do good, one had to be
friendly to very bad people. It is a sad pity that this defence has been
lost; but the oration _pro Rabirio Postumo_ being a close continuation
of the same arguments, we may form some notion of that _pro Gabinio_; he
surely did not make out Gabinius to be innocent. The courts indeed at
that time were not juries, whose business is only to find out whether
the defendant is guilty or not guilty, and where a higher authority may
step in and grant a pardon or commute the punishment; but the
_quæstiones perpetuæ_ had come into the place of the former popular
tribunals, and combined both of these functions: they gave a verdict as
to innocence or guilt, and also had the right of pardoning. This latter
power must not be wanting in any state, _summum jus_ being only too
often _summa injuria_: as no one else had it in Rome, the courts of
justice themselves had to be invested with it. This is the point of view
from which we are to judge the tribunals and advocates of that time.
When Kant in his _Kritik der Urtheilskraft_ (Critical Enquiry into the
Faculty of Judgment) assails the eloquence and the profession of
advocate, he is in some measure in contradiction with himself; for even
on this occasion, he has written with the greatest eloquence when
inveighing against political, and still more against forensic eloquence.
Before our (German) tribunals, eloquence indeed is not allowable: the
question in our mode of administering justice being “guilty or not
guilty,” the Judge has to throw aside anything that might beguile or
mislead him. If, as has been often proposed, but cannot be carried out,
there were a board which had to inquire whether there be room for
pardon, a generous orator pleading for mercy would be very much in his
place.[4]
Cicero having thus passed through the quæstorship, ædileship, and
prætorship, was now, in his forty-third year, unanimously chosen consul.
It cannot be denied that, at the end of his consulship, he became giddy;
but he entered upon it with cheerful confidence, and the circumstances
in which he was placed were exceedingly difficult. The tribunes
everywhere abused their recovered power. The speeches against Rullus are
some of the most brilliant examples of eloquence, when he demanded a
small sacrifice from the people, and induced them not to accept the
bounty which was proffered them in the scheme for the division of the
lands. Moreover, when the sons of the proscribed (some of whom were of
the first families, and had become impoverished, inasmuch as Sylia had
deprived them of all prospect of office), had by the motion of a tribune
been given to hope that they might recover their honours, he persuaded
them _concordiæ causa_ to renounce them. The person who from the very
first withstood him, was Catiline. How Cicero was to be murdered; how he
discovered those plots; how he saw into the secrets of the conspirators,
without being seen himself; you may read in his own writings, and in
Sallust. Matters came to such a pass, that Cicero found it necessary to
attack Catiline in the senate; whereupon the latter left Rome, which was
considered a great advantage. He betook himself to Tuscany where one of
his partisans had gathered together some thousands of armed men, a
number of vagabonds and outcasts, part of them Etruscans driven from
their homes, others military colonists and such like. The accomplices,
however, who had remained behind in Rome were men of the highest
standing: among others was the prætor Lentulus, who had already been
consul, but had been struck off from the list of the senate _ambitus
causa_; so that he had once more to pass through all the offices,
beginning at the lowest, to be able again to come into the senate. As to
him, Cicero knew of his guilt for certain; in other cases, the connexion
was very probable, though it was never proved; in that of M. Crassus, it
was very likely. Julius Cæsar was also mentioned; yet Cicero believed
him innocent: it is my conviction, that he could not have engaged in
anything of the kind, the conspiracy being such, that this is not to be
thought of. To get such evidence that the crime might, according to the
Roman law, be _delictum manifestum_, Cicero made use of a stratagem. The
envoys of the Allobroges, who since Pompey’s return from the war with
Sertorius, were Roman citizens, and just then were present at Rome to
negotiate a loan, and to obtain relief, he persuaded to disclose to him
the offers made them by the conspirators: they were also to get the
letters of these to Catiline, and then to give them up to him. The
envoys being thereupon arrested, for the sake of appearance, by the
prætor Valerius Flaccus, those letters were found among their papers.
The punishment to be inflicted, was the question now mooted in the
senate. According to the Roman law, there was no doubt but that, the
identity of the signatures being proved, the culprits might be condemned
to death, and this was moved by Dec. Silanus: but Cæsar argued that this
would be a highly dangerous step; that great odium would be incurred by
it, as one would have to return to the former mode of wholesale
executions; that one should rather disperse the men, and keep them
imprisoned for life in different places. I believe that, if in later
years the question had been put to Cicero, what would have been best for
the republic, he himself would have wished that Cato had not spoken,
however honest a man Cato was: it was a misfortune for the republic that
those men were executed. That the events are here very much crowded,
must not surprise us; for the greatest things may happen within a few
weeks. On the other hand, it startles us when Cicero in the oration for
Sextius says, “what would have happened, if the conspiracy had been
discovered later, if Catiline had had time during the winter, and thrown
himself into the mountains?” This seems enigmatical; for those familiar
with Cicero’s writings, are aware that he designates his triumph as
_Nonæ illæ Decembres_, and in Tuscany it is certainly winter in
December. Yet this comes from the derangement of the calendar; just as
Cæsar also once betakes himself into winter-quarters in February.
Catiline had joined C. Manlius in Etruria. Cicero adopted the most
excellent arrangement. Q. Metellus Celer, who was posted with an army in
the _ager Gallicus Picenus_, marched to the northern slope of the
Apennines, to cut off the passes which lead from Fæsulæ to Rome. C.
Antonius, whom Cicero with wonderful cleverness had detached from the
conspirators, and had quite neutralized by giving up all sorts of
advantages to him, had likewise the command of an army; but whilst he
was ill, Petreius, his lieutenant, led the troops into action. Catiline,
as all retreat from Etruria to Gaul was cut off from him, was obliged to
accept the battle. He died as he had lived, like a valiant soldier: the
whole band fought like lions; they fell like the soldiers of Spartacus.
For this consulship, Cicero indeed got thanks for the moment; but
instead of gaining for him lasting gratitude, it only brought upon him
enmity and detraction. This is one of the saddest lessons taught us by
the observation of human affairs. It is quite natural for a
distinguished man to put forth his claims to acknowledgment; just as the
striving after truth is a deep-rooted impulse of our nature:—a true
saint, like Vincent de Paul, could alone have raised himself above such
a weakness. Plato justly says, “the last garment which the pure man
doffs, is the love of fame;” and when he does cast it off, he generally
stands on most dangerous ground. When I bethink myself of the crying
evil of our age, then I see with pain that there are so few who are bent
upon seeking deathless fame: this wretched unsatisfying life, which is
all for the present moment, leads to no good. He who yearns after glory
from posterity, is sure to be a good man; and even his own age also must
acknowledge, and must honour him. The only poetical genius among the
Germans now living, Count Platen, has a painful longing after renown,
and often speaks of his not being appreciated by the men of his day.
Cicero was of a morbid sensibility: if it is in the power of a great man
always to command and to act, he cares less whether he is honoured or
not; but if he is only able to command the souls of men, and not their
bodies, he is much more susceptible with regard to such matters. Cicero
was keenly, and even morbidly alive to anything like a slight; any
injury, or ill-will, any kind of envy upset him. Unhappily, he tried to
overcome this by putting himself forward to show to the people what he
was, sometimes chiding, and at other times remonstrating with them. They
were certainly the vainest of all men, who in the most highly edifying
language forsooth! have written on Cicero’s vanity: I am grieved at it,
as I love Cicero as if I had known him, and also feel hurt by the scoffs
which even the ancients already uttered against him. A source of great
heart-burning to him, was the mortification which he suffered from
Pompey’s indifference. He must have known very little of the latter
before he went to Asia, and they can only have met during Pompey’s first
consulship; on what terms of friendliness they were, cannot be known: at
that time, Cicero was ædile. Afterwards, Pompey was for the most part
absent, whereas Cicero was always at Rome. Pompey, full of his victories
over Mithridates, thought of no one in all the republic but himself; and
when Cicero wrote an unfortunate letter to him in Asia, in which he told
him of the events in Rome, to make him aware of what he himself had done
for the good of the country, he answered coldly: he took it as an
offence, that Cicero should have presumed, in the face of his own
achievements, to speak of what he too had done for his country. Another
motive were the aristocratical airs which Pompey was pleased to give
himself towards a _homo novus_ like Cicero, although his own ancestor
was but a low musician.
Hardly was Cicero’s consulship at an end, when he met with enmity. The
whole college of tribunes in the following year, with the exception of
Cato, was seditious: party names had no longer any meaning, and Metellus
and Bestia, who belonged to the plebeian nobility, were playing the part
of demagogues, and attacking him with the greatest impudence. His
oration for Murena breathes the inward quiet joyfulness, which, just
after his victory, made him happy for some time: it is by no means
appreciated as it ought to be, and least of all by those jurists who
have taken up the gauntlet as knights errant for the great lawyer
Servius Sulpicius. People never bethink themselves of the state of mind
in which the speaker is, but they are offended by trifling expressions;
a thing which has often been the case with myself. This went on for
centuries; no one understood how innocently Cicero here laughs at the
Stoic philosophy as well as at the lawyers.
In his later years, Cicero displayed much kindliness towards younger
men, whom he took by the hand and attached to himself; which was quite
different from what most of his contemporaries did, Hortensius
especially. Thus he behaved to Brutus, thus also to Cælius Rufus, a very
opposite character; Catullus he likewise knew, and was most kind to; nor
did he repel young men whom he found astray in evil paths, and whom he
mourned over: such was the highly gifted Curio, a man whom he tried by
every means to lead to better ways. In the epistles of M. Aurelius to
Fronto, the Emperor says, “We have no word for φιλοστοργία, nor have we
the thing itself.” This tenderness of heart which very few Romans had,
this fatherly and friendly affection Cicero possessed, and therefore he
was ridiculed as unmanly and soft: his mourning for the death of his
daughter, arose from this inward depth of feeling. He was not a weak
character; on the contrary, he showed in great emergencies a very
decided strength of will: but he was a most impressible being, and
easily upset; he needed “a nice and subtle happiness,” as Milton calls
it, and thus the _indignum_ utterly overpowered him. Friedrich Heinrich
Jacobi was reproached with vanity, irritability, and weakness; he was
just such a character, and in him Cicero often becomes clear to me.
The event soon happened which gave rise to the misfortunes of his whole
life. The root of the conspiracy was torn up; but many fibres of it had
still remained in the ground, and grew up again. P. Clodius was
descended in the direct line from old Appius Claudius, being the
youngest of the three sons of one Appius Claudius. The eldest of these,
who bore the hereditary name of Appius, was a good-natured man, very
superstitious, narrow-minded, and commonplace, though on account of his
high rank he was raised to the first dignities. There were also two
sisters, one of whom was married to Lucullus. Thus Clodius belonged to
the very noblest aristocracy: but mere nobility was no longer thought
of, and power was all that men cared for. In that profligate age, P.
Clodius was among the most abandoned: he is one of those persons who
have had most to do with the ruin of Rome. At the festival of the _Bona
Dea_, which, like the Thesmophoriæ, was celebrated only by women in the
house of the pontifex maximus, he smuggled himself in, in disguise, that
he might meet with Pompeia, the wife of Julius Cæsar; but he was
discovered, and tried for it. According to the true Roman law, the trial
ought to have been before the spiritual court of the pontiffs, where he
would undoubtedly have been condemned: but we see from this instance
that the real jurisdiction, except in cases which were strictly
ceremonial, must have been taken away from them. Clodius wanted to prove
an alibi, and had the impudence to call in Cicero as a witness. The
latter is said till then not to have had any quarrel with him, and the
fellow was so dangerous that he ought to have contented himself with
declining to give evidence; but Cicero, as we are told, to clear himself
with his domineering wife of all connection with that family, not only
bore true witness, but also gave free vent to his wit: he said things of
Clodius in open court which put him in a ridiculous light, and could not
but have caused his conviction. But Clodius had bought himself off from
the condemnation of the Judges; he had actually lodged the money for his
acquittal. For this day’s work, Clodius never forgave Cicero, and he
thirsted for revenge.
Pompey now came back to Rome, where he renewed his former behaviour to
Cicero, treating him not only with indifference but with scorn; and he
encouraged Clodius to undertake something against him. Clodius, having
now got a plebeian to make a show of adopting him, stood for the
tribuneship, and was returned. Such _transitiones ad plebem_ were quite
lawful: even in former times, no adoption would have been needed at all;
for one had only to go over to the _plebs_, as many patricians did, when
all that was required was that the censor admitted them. But people had
now no longer any clear notions in these things, and Cicero himself
impugns the validity of that tribuneship.
One of the atrocities of the age was now perpetrated. Ptolemy Auletes,
who on account of his utter worthlessness had been driven from
Alexandria, came to Rome; and there he bargained with those who were in
power about the price of his restoration. The people of Alexandria sent
a counter embassy with the most bitter complaints, to prove his guilt;
but Ptolemy was powerful enough, with the connivance of the leading men
at Rome, to have those who were of highest rank in that Alexandrine
embassy assassinated: Clodius had a hand in all this. His tribunate took
place in the year after Cæsar’s consulship.