The parties breathed freely.  For the second time Pompeius had abdicated; his already-vanquished competitors might once more begin the race—­in which doubtless the strangest thing was, that Pompeius was again a rival runner.  In January 693 he came to Rome.  His position was an awkward one and vacillated with so much uncertainty between the parties, that people gave him the nickname of Gnaeus Cicero.  He had in fact lost favour with all.  The anarchists saw in him an adversary, the democrats an inconvenient friend, Marcus Crassus a rival, the wealthy class an untrustworthy protector, the aristocracy a declared foe.(2) He was still indeed the most powerful man in the state; his military adherents scattered through all Italy, his influence in the provinces, particularly those of the east, his military fame, his enormous riches gave him a weight such as no other possessed; but instead of the enthusiastic reception on which he had counted, the reception which he met with was more than cool, and still cooler was the treatment given to the demands which he presented.  He requested for himself, as he had already caused to be announced by Nepos, a second consulship; demanding also, of course, a confirmation of the arrangements made by him in the east and a fulfilment of the promise which he had given to his soldiers to furnish them with lands.  Against these demands a systematic opposition arose in the senate, the chief elements of which were furnished by the personal exasperation of Lucullus and Metellus Creticus, the old resentment of Crassus, and the conscientious folly of Cato.  The desired second consulship was at once and bluntly refused.  The very first request which the returning general addressed to the senate, that the election of the consuls for 693 might be put off till after his entry into the capital, had been rejected; much less was there any likelihood of obtaining from the senate the necessary dispensation from the law of Sulla as to re-election.(3) As to the arrangements which he had made in the eastern provinces, Pompeius naturally asked their confirmation as a whole; Lucullus carried a proposal thatevery ordinance should be separately discussed and voted upon, which opened the door for endless annoyances and a multitude of defeats in detail.  The promise of a grant of land to the soldiers of the Asiatic army was ratified indeed in general by the senate, but was at the same time extended to the Cretan legions of Metellus; and—­what was worse—­it was not executed, because the public chest was empty and the senate was not disposed to meddle with the domains for this purpose.  Pompeius, in despair of mastering the persistent and spiteful opposition of the senate, turned to the burgesses.  But he understood still less how to conduct his movements on this field.  The democratic leaders, although they did not openly oppose him, had no cause at all to make his interests their own, and so kept aloof.  Pompeius’ own instruments—­such as