The two brothers were on rather better terms than they had been and the problematic youth may have helped bring them back together. Cicero was in the money again—he had just learned of a substantial legacy from a wealthy banker—and, after settling his own debts, he planned to make over the surplus, apparently as a loan, to his brother. This was a remarkably generous gesture after their bitter quarrel and a further illustration of Cicero’s inability to bear a grudge. That year Quintus finally divorced Pomponia. The aging siblings now had only each other as the remaining pillars of a dispersed family.
When Atticus had an idea he seldom let it rest. He continued to press his friend to write to Caesar and at last Cicero yielded. Cicero had told Balbus and Oppius that he had been impressed by the Anti-Cato (untrue; he may have admired it for stylistic reasons, but he later called it an “impudent” work). They mentioned this to the Dictator and in August Cicero agreed to write a discursive letter about the book. He had them vet the text as usual, and this time they cleared it enthusiastically. They had “never read anything better.”
A gap in the correspondence with Atticus follows for nearly three months, but it seems that Cicero was on superficially good terms with Caesar again. The Dictator was back in Rome in October to celebrate a Triumph for the Spanish war. He had been elected sole Consul, but had had himself replaced for the last three months of the year by two other Senators.
Towards the end of the year Cicero made a short speech on behalf of Deiotarus, King of Galatia, who was alleged to have plotted Caesar’s assassination during the civil war. The case was heard in the accused’s absence behind closed doors in the Dictator’s house. Caesar cast himself as judge and jury. Cicero combined compliment with candor (he commented adversely on the irregularity of the judicial procedure), a mixture that usually pleased his listener. It would appear that the Dictator found against him, but, if Cicero in a later tirade against Mark Antony is to be trusted, Antony restored the King’s lost territories to him after Caesar’s death.
In December, Caesar toured Campania, perhaps visiting veteran colonies, and called on Cicero at his house in the seaside resort of Puteoli. What was intended as a friendly gesture was, in fact, a massive inconvenience for a reluctant host. The Dictator turned up on December 18 with no fewer than 2,000 soldiers, who camped out in the open. He stayed the night at a neighbor’s villa. The house was so crowded with soldiers that there was hardly a spare room for Caesar to dine in. Cicero was “a good deal perturbed” about what would happen the following day with so many troops wandering around. Fortunately an officer agreed to post sentries.
Caesar spent the morning alone till one o’clock, apparently working on accounts with Balbus. Then he went for a walk on the beach and took a bath an hour later. Some bad news about his Prefect of Engineers was brought in, but the expression on Caesar’s face did not change. Once his skin had been oiled at the end of his bath (as was the custom), he took his place at Cicero’s dinner table. The occasion throws an attractive light on Caesar’s personality; although, or possibly because, he was encumbered by the cares and paraphernalia of state, he wanted a short break from work, relaxing in good company and engaging in agreeable conversation. Cicero reluctantly conceded that he too had had a pleasant time. “It really was a fine, elegantly served meal,” he reported to Atticus.
His entourage was lavishly entertained in three other dining rooms. The humbler freedmen and slaves had all they wanted—the smarter ones I entertained in style. In a word, I showed I knew how to do things. But my guest was not the kind of person to whom one says, “Do come again when you are next in the neighborhood.” Once is enough. We talked of nothing serious, but a good deal on literary matters. All in all, he was pleased and enjoyed himself.
The year was ending on a modestly contented note. Not only was Cicero’s relationship with Caesar ostensibly in good repair, but harmony of a sort was breaking out on the domestic front. Some days after the Dictator’s visit, young Quintus paid his uncle a visit. He intended to accompany Caesar on the Parthian expedition and wanted to mend some bridges.
Cicero noted the conversation for Atticus.
“Why do you have to go?” Cicero asked.
“Debt—I haven’t even enough to pay my traveling expenses.”
Cicero, discreet for once, held his tongue.
“What upsets me most is my uncle, Atticus.”
“Why do you let him be annoyed—I prefer to say ‘let’ rather than ‘make’?”
“I won’t anymore. I’ll get rid of the reason.”
“Excellent. But if you don’t mind my asking, I would be interested to know what the reason is.”
“It’s because I couldn’t make up my mind whom to marry. My mother was cross with me, and so as a result was he. Now I don’t care what I do to put things right. I’ll do what they want.”
“Well, good luck, and congratulations on your decision.”
It seemed that the difficult, hostile teenager was beginning to settle down into an ordinary Roman young-man-about-town with debts, who realized that it would be in his interest to be on good terms again with his disappointed family. Whether or not Quintus acted as he said he would is unknown, but there is no subsequent reference to a wife in the fragmentary surviving documentation. One thing is certain, though: he did not accompany the legions to Parthia, for the expedition never took place. He must have found some alternative solution to the problem of his debts.
By now, Cicero had become less volatile than he had been in the past. He met the challenges and misfortunes that faced him with determination. In politics he made up his mind about the regime with fewer of his usual doubts and nervous questionings. Criticism did not bother him as much as it had once. He still reacted passionately to events and was no less self-absorbed, but he had learned to control himself. Family estrangements troubled him and he had nearly been broken by Tullia’s death, but he had struggled with all his might to regain his emotional balance. Tempered by the fire, he seemed to have acquired a new, steely resolve.
12
PHILOSOPHICAL INVESTIGATIONS
Thoughts on the Nature of Things: 46–44 BC
One explanation for Cicero’s new maturity lay in his phenomenal productivity as a writer. In 46, at the age of sixty, he started work on a succession of books which, taken together, represent one of Rome’s most valuable legacies to posterity. At their core is a summary of the philosophical issues that had concerned thinkers and moralists from Plato to Cicero’s own day. He made no claim to originality. “I only supply the words, and I have plenty of those.” However, he was a popularizer of genius. With the disappearance of the Greek language in Europe during the Dark and Middle Ages, Cicero’s compendium of classical thought had a huge influence on the continuing development of western philosophy.
Politics and war were the chief but not the only means by which a Roman could achieve status. Others were scholarship and literature. Leading figures such as Cicero’s friend the jurist Sulpicius could maintain their prestige by achieving an unrivaled knowledge of the law. Antiquarian expertise was necessary in a polity that was heavily dependent on the interpretation of tradition; thus Atticus, who eschewed the hurly-burly of the Forum, was able to make a name for himself by writing the Annals (Liber Annalis), an authoritative chronology of Rome back to its foundation. The religious apparatus of priestly colleges demanded detailed knowledge of the forms and procedures of ceremony and divination and it was necessary for some members of the elite to acquire it.