In Rome, as in all great
communities, there were multitudes of dissolute, ruined wretches, the
natural enemies of property and order. Bankrupt members of the aristocracy
had lent themselves to these people as their leaders, and had been the
cause of all the trouble of the past years. If such renegades to their
order could be properly discouraged or extinguished, Cicero had thought
that there would be nothing more to desire. Catiline he had himself made
an end of to his own immortal glory, but now Catiline had revived in
Clodius; and Clodius, so far from being discouraged, was petted and
encouraged by responsible statesmen who ought to have known better. Caesar
had employed him; Crassus had employed him; even Pompey had stooped to
connect himself with the scandalous young incendiary, and had threatened
to call in the army if the Senate attempted to repeal Caesar's iniquitous
laws.[1] Still more inexplicable was the ingratitude of the aristocracy
and their friends, the "boni" or good--the "Conservatives of the State,"
[2] as Cicero still continued to call Caesar's opponents. He respected
them; he loved them; he had done more for their cause than any single man
in the Empire; and yet they had never recognized his services by word or
deed. He had felt tempted to throw up public life in disgust, and retire
to privacy and philosophy.
Pages:
299
300
301
302
303
304
305
306
307
308
309
310
311
312
313
314
315
316
317
318
319
320
321
322
323