Cicero: Letters to Atticus, Vol. 3 of 3 — Story, Setting & Ideas

A Restful Interval Under Caesar

The early letters depict Cicero in a period of deliberate withdrawal. He writes from Rome, occupied with literary work—the Brutus, the Orator, and the Paradoxa—and with private legal cases, such as pleading for Marcellus and Ligarius. The translator notes that Cicero 'reconciled himself to a life of retirement and literary activity,' yet the letters betray an undercurrent of unease. In one passage, Cicero dissuades his son from joining Caesar's Spanish expedition, urging him to study in Athens instead, on the grounds that it would be unseemly to appear too eager a turncoat. This detail reveals how acutely Cicero felt the tension between his republican principles and the necessity of cooperating with the dictator. The correspondence also records his divorce from Terentia and his brief, unhappy marriage to Publilia, showing that personal upheavals ran parallel to political ones.

The Ides of March and Their Aftermath

The most striking letters come after Caesar's assassination. Writing from Puteoli on April 22, 44 BCE, Cicero exclaims: 'What news I get from Rome! What things I see here! "The deed was fair but its result is naught."' He immediately turns to practical concerns: the Sicilians' rights, the case of King Deiotarus, and the fate of the Buthrotians. The letter shows him oscillating between hope and despair. He notes that Octavian (the future Augustus) has arrived and is 'devoted to me,' yet he doubts the young man can be a good citizen, surrounded as he is by those who threaten Cicero's friends with death. The phrase 'we, who have killed a king and yet are not free' encapsulates the central disappointment of the period. Cicero's voice here is raw, disillusioned, and acutely aware that the liberators have not restored the republic.

Financial and Legal Entanglements

Throughout the volume, Cicero's letters are filled with detailed discussions of money, property, and legal cases. He thanks Atticus for arranging his son's allowance, noting that he wants the boy supplied 'with sufficient for luxury as well as necessities.' He discusses the Cluvius inheritance, which is 'approaching £1,000,' and notes that a fall of houses 'did not depreciate it; indeed, I am not sure it did not make it better.' These passages reveal Cicero's close involvement in his own finances and his reliance on Atticus as a trusted agent. The Buthrotian affair—a dispute over land rights—recurs across several letters, showing Cicero's persistence in using his influence on behalf of clients. Such details ground the political drama in the concrete realities of Roman life, where patronage, inheritance, and litigation were inseparable from public affairs.

The Voice of a Correspondent Under Pressure

Cicero's style in these letters is remarkably varied, shifting from philosophical reflection to sharp political commentary to mundane business. He quotes Greek poetry—'Ὢ πράξεως καλῆς μέν, ἀτελοῦς δέ'—and laments that 'reason no longer rules.' He complains that even at the waters he cannot rest, because the new magistrates 'forced me to declaim.' The letters are often fragmentary, jumping from topic to topic as thoughts occur. This informal, unpolished quality gives the reader direct access to Cicero's mind in real time. He admits to writing 'not to give pleasure' but out of habit, and the result is a record of a man struggling to maintain his equilibrium in a world turned upside down. The translator's notes, keyed to the Latin text, help clarify references without overwhelming the English reader.

Readers approaching this volume for the first time will benefit from paying attention to the dates and places of each letter, as Cicero's mood shifts markedly with events. The translator's introduction provides essential context for the political situation, but the letters themselves reward close reading for their blend of the personal and the political. Atticus is both confidant and agent, and Cicero's trust in him allows for an unusually candid portrait of a Roman aristocrat navigating the end of the republic.

Years spent shelving both have shown me a quiet kinship: Cicero, writing to Atticus from his strained retirement, hoped a republic might steady itself again. So too did Roosevelt, speaking at Chautauqua, temper America’s newfound might with urgent reminders of moral duty. Both men knew power’s weight rests on character. That Address of President Roosevelt at Chautauqua, New York, August 11, 1905 — Key Ideas to Explore echoes that old Roman’s lonely vigilance. A gentle reminder of how little the heart of governance changes.