It was, of course, the First Triumvirate that was really to blame: the three had knowingly let Clodius engineer Cicero’s ruin. Curiously, though, Cicero said little against them and never directly criticized Pompey. Did he not see the link between his refusal to join the alliance and his subsequent political destruction? With the benefit of hindsight, the connection seems inescapable.
AS soon as he had settled down in Thessalonica, he sent off letters to various public figures, including one to Pompey. Although he was familiar with Pompey’s faults, he may have become too fond of him to credit his duplicity. More probably, he knew he would need his support in the future. Cicero was sure that at heart Pompey was no radical; sooner or later he would make common cause with the Senate. And in the short run, Cicero needed Pompey for a more practical reason. Without his active backing it was clear that he would never be allowed to return to Rome.
Atticus came in for his share of criticism. If only he had loved Cicero enough he would have given him better advice; instead he had “looked on and done nothing.” Atticus very sensibly paid no attention to this unfair jibe and went on doing all he could to help, even offering to place his personal fortune, now much augmented by the death of an “extremely difficult” but extremely wealthy uncle, at Cicero’s disposal. This was a gesture of some significance for, with the confiscation of his property, Cicero’s financial affairs were in a very poor state. Cicero’s letters to Atticus are full of practical advice, complaints and queries.
In June 58 the Senate attempted to pass a motion reprieving him, but a Tribune friendly to Clodius blocked it. In October eight Tribunes drafted a law to revoke the second of Clodius’s two laws (the one naming Cicero). It failed too, but Cicero was not too disappointed, for he thought it “carelessly drafted.” AS the year drew to a close he expressed growing worries about the Tribunes-Elect and the likely attitudes of the incoming Consuls. One of these was his old enemy Metellus Nepos, who had opened the sniping against him on the last day of his Consulship five years before.
However, Metellus agreed (more or less) to a reconciliation and the senior Consul, Publius Cornelius Lentulus Spinther, turned out to be a strong supporter. The Tribunes were sympathetic too. Atticus was successful in his informal role as campaign manager for Cicero’s recall. With his aptitude for networking and the freedom with which he could cross enemy lines, he gradually and discreetly pushed matters forward.
Even more helpful than Atticus was the deteriorating situation in Rome. Only a few weeks after Cicero’s melancholy departure for Greece, Clodius turned his attentions to Pompey and a supporter of his, the Consul Aulus Gabinius (a onetime friend of Catilina’s or, in Cicero’s dismissive phrase, his “pet dancer”). With his gangs of supporters he made life so dangerous for Pompey that the former general shut himself up for much of the time in his villa outside the city.
It is possible that Clodius was being egged on by Caesar or Crassus, the idea being to keep Pompey’s hands full and so reduce the chances of his coming to terms with the optimates. More probably, Clodius was simply asserting his independence from his patrons and putting himself beyond their reach. He was aware that the pressure for Cicero’s recall would grow and may have guessed that the beleaguered Pompey, skulking helplessly at home, might be tempted to change his mind. There were repeated riots and disorder throughout the city, and it was becoming difficult to conduct public business. On January 1, 57, after the close of Clodius’s term as Tribune, Consul Lentulus proposed a motion in the Senate allowing Cicero’s return. It was passed with a good majority. Clodius deployed a troop of gladiators, already assembled for the funeral of a relative, to prevent the bill from being put to the People. Some Tribunes were wounded in the Forum—a scandalous development—and Cicero’s brother, Quintus, only just escaped with his life. He was left lying unnoticed among the corpses in the square and for a time was presumed dead.
The only way to deal with Clodius was to fight fire with fire. Two Tribunes, Titus Annius Milo, a rich conservative who was popular with the urban masses because he had paid for sumptuous theatrical performances and gladiatorial shows, and Publius Sestius, a long-standing supporter of Cicero, recruited their own armed groups. Many weeks of street fighting ensued. In his defense of Sestius against charges of violence in 56, Cicero described in graphic terms the effects of this gang warfare: “The Tiber was full of citizens’ corpses, the public sewers were choked with them and the blood that streamed from the Forum had to be mopped up with sponges.” To begin with, the cure was worse than the disease and public business once more came to a standstill. However, by the summer Clodius, while by no means defeated, was at least being contained.
Pompey was now persuaded to back Cicero’s recall, but Caesar’s approval was more difficult to win. Although he was preoccupied with the conquest of Long-haired Gaul, he managed to devote much attention to monitoring and, so far as he could from a distance, managing the political situation in Rome. Cicero was no longer a major force either with his traditional constituency, the equites, or with the optimates in the Senate, but he was one of the few politicians of the day who could have an impact on events as an individual. AS Rome’s best-known advocate and with his mastery of the art of rhetoric, his opinions carried a certain weight. To some extent, his political isolation worked in his favor, for it contributed to a reputation for independence of mind. He was growing into an elder statesman.
Caesar finally gave his reluctant consent to Cicero’s return, presumably realizing that it was pointless to resist what he could not prevent. But he insisted that, in return, Cicero promise not to attack the First Triumvirate openly. Quintus offered Pompey a guarantee, on his brother’s behalf, of future good behavior.
Enthusiasm for Cicero’s cause grew. He became, briefly, the focus for a coming together of almost every shade of political opinion. He had suffered at the hands of Clodius and his rehabilitation was an economical and elegant way of publicly rejecting mob rule. How this was to be achieved, though, required a degree of care. It was possible to mount a plausible case against the legality of all Clodius’s acts as Tribune—on the grounds that his renunciation of patrician status had been handled improperly and, accordingly, his election was invalid. However, his reforms had attracted enthusiastic popular support and it would be unwise to disturb them. Even Cato took a lenient line on this topic, because he did not want to see his annexation of Cyprus nullified. It is disconcerting that the uncompromising constitutionalist was willing to bend his principles when his interests were at stake. Cicero was much put out by this, and for a while relations between the two men were icy.
Lentulus decided to proceed by stages. In May 57 the Senate endorsed his proposal that the various Roman officials and citizens who had helped Cicero during his banishment be formally thanked. It also agreed to convene a meeting of the Military Assembly later in the summer to consider his recall. This was a little odd because for many years this Assembly’s main function had been the election of senior magistrates; its use on this occasion was probably due to the fact that its voting system was more manageable than that of the General Assembly. The meeting was extensively publicized throughout Italy, and citizens were encouraged to come to Rome and vote. The political establishment was taking no chances with the Roman mob, which was still largely under Clodius’s thumb.