of the dignity of his
position prompted him to purchase. Atticus is commissioned to search in
Athens and elsewhere for objects of art suitable for the residence of a
wealthy Roman, who at the same time was a scholar and man of letters. He
is beginning to feel the charm of at any rate a temporary retreat from
the constant bustle and occupations of the city. Though Cicero loved
Rome, and could hardly conceive of life unconnected with its business
and excitements,[3] and eagerly looked for news of the city in his
absence, yet there was another side to his character. His interest in
literature and philosophy was quite as genuine as his interest in the
forum and senate-house. When the season came for temporarily withdrawing
from the latter, he returned to the former with eager passion. But
Tusculum was too near Rome to secure him the quiet and solitude
necessary for study and composition. Thus, though he says (vol. i., p.
4), "I am so delighted with my Tusculan villa that I never feel really
happy till I get there," he often found it necessary, when engaged in
any serious literary work, to seek the more complete retirement of
Formiae, Cumae, or Pompeii, near all of which he acquired properties,
besides an inheritance at Arpinum.[4] But the important achievements in
literature were still in the future. The few letters of B.C. 68-67 are
full of directions to Atticus for the collection of books or works of
art suitable to his house, and of matters of private interest. They are
also short and sometimes abrupt. The famous allusion to his father's
death in the second letter of this collection, contained in a single
line--_pater nobis decessit a.d. 111 Kal. Decembris_--followed by
directions to Atticus as to articles of _vertu_ for his villa, has much
exercised the minds of admirers, who do not like to think Cicero capable
of such a cold-hearted sentence. It is certainly very unlike his usual
manner.[5] He is more apt to exaggerate than understate his emotions;
and in the first letter extant he speaks with real feeling of the death
of a cousin. Elsewhere--as we have seen--he refers to his father with
respect and gratitude. How then are we to account for such a cold
announcement? Several expedients have been hit upon. First, to change
_decessit_ to _discessit_, and to refer the sentence to the father's
quitting Rome, and not life; in which case it is not easy to see why the
information is given at all. Second, to suppose it to be a me