Cicero was becoming a man to reckon with in the Senate, as well as in the law courts. His provincial origins remained an obstacle in aristocratic circles, where he was looked down on as a pushy nobody. The time was approaching when he would be eligible for senior office and he could count on opposition from the great families. However, Cicero was not to be deterred. His dominance as a public speaker made him a household name and he could depend on support from his growing clientela among the commercial and mercantile class.
In the first permissible year he was elected at the age of forty to the Praetorship, taking office in 66. There was nothing to prevent public officials from accepting briefs in the courts and Cicero remained much in demand as an advocate. From this time on he stopped appearing in civil suits and specialized exclusively in the criminal law; he developed a particular expertise in two offenses which had political implications: improper influencing of voters (ambitus) and extortion in government (crimen repetundarum).
During his year as Praetor, Cicero appeared in an extraordinarily complicated multiple murder case, which threw a lurid light on vice and corruption in provincial society. He defended Aulus Cluentius Habitus, who was accused of poisoning his stepfather, Statius Albius Oppianicus. Most of his speech concentrated on a series of trials eight years earlier, when Cluentius had successfully prosecuted Oppianicus for attempting to murder him. Public opinion was on Oppianicus’s side and Cicero had to show that the original verdict had been right. He took the jury step by step through Oppianicus’s bizarre career, showing how, for personal gain, he had systematically killed eleven members either of his own family or of others into which he had married. Cicero made no effort to simplify the narrative and was happy to concede that, in the interests of his client, he had “wrapped the jury in darkness.”
The case also gave Cicero the opportunity to score a political point. During his defense of Cluentius he reinforced his reputation as a supporter of the equites by making flattering references to their importance as a class. Now that he was within sight of the Consulship, the apex of government, it was important to assure himself of their backing. A newcomer to the charmed circle of Roman politics, he had to maximize his support across the political spectrum if his candidacy was to have a chance of success. This meant somehow keeping on good terms with both the populares and the optimates, the radicals in the Assembly Ground and the diehards in the Senate. “You know the game I am playing,” he confided to Atticus, “and how vital I think it not only to keep old friends but to win new ones.”
The most sensitive issue of the hour concerned the future role of Pompey, whose name was being put forward to take over the command of the Roman army in Asia Minor. In the years following Sulla’s death, Mithridates of Pontus had gradually rebuilt his forces and raised the standard of revolt for a second time.
Cicero had to decide what line he was going to take about the proposed appointment. The optimates in the Senate were vehemently opposed. They had not forgiven Pompey for dismantling Sulla’s reforms during his Consulship. It was not only this that annoyed traditionalists but his unstoppable subsequent progress as a general and administrator. In 67, in the face of furious Senatorial opposition, Pompey had been given a special command with wide-ranging powers covering all coastal regions to rid the Mediterranean of the growing scourge of piracy. The appointment had been so popular that the price of corn in Rome had immediately fallen. The operation had been expected to take some time, but through efficient organization Pompey had accomplished the task in three months.
Everyone could see that the crisis in Asia Minor called for military talent of the highest order. Since 74, an able general, Lucius Licinius Lucullus, had been campaigning against Mithridates with considerable success. Unfortunately, Lucullus had infuriated the Roman tax farmers by lowering taxation and now his soldiers, losing patience after eight years in the field, were in a state of mutiny. Despite his achievements, Lucullus clearly had to be replaced and Pompey was the obvious successor. With the victory over the pirates still ringing in everyone’s ears, the Senate would be hard put to resist yet another special commission. But this was unlikely to stop it from trying.
Cicero decided to support Pompey. In 66, making the first political speech of his career, he addressed the General Assembly in favor of the appointment. His tone was fawning. Listing Pompey’s achievements, he said: “Such is his unbelievable, superhuman genius as a commander. A little while back I was beginning to speak of his other qualities as well; and they too are as superlative as they are numerous.” The Praetor and would-be Consul was walking a tricky line. His fundamental position was conservative, but, in light of growing social and political divisions, he recognized the urgent need for reconciliation. His real opinion of Pompey at this point is uncertain. The great commander had been often abroad and, although the two men were of the same age, Cicero had been too junior a figure until recently to have been worth cultivating.
The special command against Mithridates was not something Cicero would have cared much about in itself. Rather, the controversy gave him an opportunity to do two things: first, to establish himself as a man who could bring the different classes together and resolve their differences or, to use his musical metaphor, make the orchestra of Roman society play in tune; and second, to attract a broad base of support for his eventual candidacy for the Consulship. This meant winning the attention and the approval of the People while at the same time not unduly offending the Senate. At this point it was in his interest to present himself as something of a popularis, but he took great care to be polite to leading optimates. The speech was an early, unacknowledged opening of his election campaign.
The sincerity of Cicero’s populism at this stage in his political development is hard to gauge. He was perfectly willing to support reforms but tended to see them as concessions to avert discontent rather than as desirable in their own right. Like many politicians before and after him, he was rather more open to radical ideas when campaigning for votes than he was when he no longer had to run for office.
Cicero’s attempts to keep all sides happy nearly went adrift. It so happened that a number of populares appeared on various charges before his Praetorian court, and he did not want to spoil his credentials with the People by presiding over guilty verdicts. In one case that we know of, he managed to effect a condemnation without offending public opinion. He commented to Atticus: “My handling of C. Macer’s case has won popular approval to a really quite extraordinary degree. Though I was favorably disposed to him, I gained far more from popular sentiment by his conviction than I should have gained from his gratitude if he had been acquitted.”
He found himself in more serious trouble at the end of his year as Praetor. Cicero decided to postpone the trial of a Tribune who had recruited street gangs and intimidated the courts until after he left office. From his point of view, acquittal or conviction would be equally dangerous. The former would infuriate the Senate and the latter the People. However, the postponement backfired. At a public meeting voices from the crowd called him a “turncoat.” Taken aback, Cicero promised that he would defend the Tribune himself. Luckily, for some reason, the trial never took place.