tion of all loyal citizens in his cause seems even to have alarmed him, as likely to rekindle the jealousy from which he had suffered so much. He now shakes off all the despondency of his exile, and can look forward with a light heart. "I feel," he writes to Atticus,[1] "as if I was starting at the commencement of a new life."
The enthusiasm displayed by the Romans was partly due to sympathy with Cicero himself, partly it was a manifestation of disgust at the reign of lawlessness and rascality which had been the first-fruits of Cæsar's attack on the constitution. With the return of Cicero, men began to hope that this most discreditable page in the national history was turned down once for all. They did not perceive how seriously the fabric of the constitution had been shaken, nor how imminent was the danger to those republican institutions which they still cherished as their most precious birthright. In real truth it would have taxed the utmost resources of statesmanship now to find a solution. Whether the triumvirate held together, or whether it dissolved, the issue was likely to be equally disastrous to the survival of the free State. Cicero's "new life" began in a world which admitted only of counsels of despair.
Three days after his return we find Cicero once more handling affairs of State. The Senate was called to suggest remedies for a dearth, which caused much discontent, and Cicero moved that Pompey should be invested with proconsular power for five years, and should exercise control over the corn-supply of
- ↑ Ad Att., iv., 1, 8.
