Thesis Submitted in Conformity with the Requirements for the Degree of Doctorate of Philosophy Graduate Department of Classics University of Toronto

An Archaeology of Cicero’s Letters: A Study of Late Republican Textual Culture

Robert McCutcheon

A thesis submitted in conformity with the requirements for the degree of Doctorate of Philosophy Graduate Department of Classics University of Toronto

An Archaeology of Cicero’s Letters: A Study of Late Republican Textual Culture

Robert McCutcheon

Doctorate of Philosophy

Department of Classics University of Toronto

2013 Abstract This dissertation examines the hermeneutic role of the material epistula in the correspondence of the Roman elite at the end of the Republic. Through close readings of descriptions of the physical letter in Cicero’s Letters and with reference to the papyrological record and later epistolary cultures, I reconstruct the meaning of the material epistula for Cicero and his social cohort. Elite epistolography was not only a site of intricate discursive strategies, but also of complex material politics. Physical aspects of the epistula – such as whose handwriting (the author’s or a scribe’s) the recipient reads, the choice of medium for the epistle, and the identity of the letter-carrier

– constituted a complex social performance on the part of the epistolographer that helped to delineate both his status in the community and his relationship with the letter’s addressee. By examining how the material form of an epistula could influence the reception of its linguistic contents, this dissertation also facilitates a more nuanced understanding of Cicero’s correspondence, in particular his epistolary relations with such figures as Atticus, Caelius, Plancus, and Antony.

The first two chapters demonstrate that the mode of production for an epistula was a key material feature that republican epistolographers used in constructing and negotiating their relationships with each other. This investigation also shows how republican epistolography functioned as a symbolic economy, which covertly interacted with the commercial economy. The third chapter examines Atticus’ handwriting practices in his correspondence with Cicero as a means to engage in a larger discussion regarding Atticus’ place and function in Roman elite society. The fourth chapter examines the cultural genealogy and larger social perception of wax-tablets and papyrus

(the two forms of media for republican epistolography) in order to better appreciate why

Roman epistolographers would employ each medium in particular epistolary transactions.

Chapter five explores how Cicero and his correspondents deployed particular letter- carriers to affect the reception of a letter. Finally, the conclusion briefly examines the letter-writing practices of the epistolographers from the Roman fort at Vindolanda in order to review the findings of this dissertation, while also suggesting avenues for future research.

iii

Acknowledgments

It is one of the odd conventions of the dissertation format to allot such a small amount of space for recognizing the multitude of people who contributed in large ways to its successful completion. Traditions are traditions, though. Nevertheless, the amount of text here in no way fully acknowledges the size of the debts that I have incurred in writing this thesis. First, I would like to thank my supervisor, Erik Gunderson, and the rest of my dissertation committee (Andreas Bendlin, Alison Keith, and Deidre Lynch) for their unflagging energy and invaluable help in bringing this dissertation to fruition. In every case, their notes and suggestions improved and nuanced my arguments and allowed me to avoid embarrassing mistakes. Whatever errors and infelicities remain are entirely my fault. I would also like to thank Coral Gavrilovic and Ann-Marie Matti for their help in shepherding me through the bureaucracy of the graduate program. The members of my graduate cohort – Melanie, Kevin, Sarah, Ariel, Randi, and Jessica – also deserve thanks for the friendship and moral support that they offered during the grueling campaign which is a PhD program. I would also like to thank (and blame) my parents,

Brian and Gill, and my sister, Bea, for fostering a scholarly home environment in my childhood. The sea of books in our house and the dinnertime debates concerning the rankings of Canadian prime minsters likely had much to do with where I find myself today. (For the record, McKenzie King ranks first in such a poll with Sir Charles Tupper bringing up the rear.) I also want to thank and recognize the contributions of my family in Toronto, Bee Mudge and Gary Hoskins, for their boundless hospitality and endless encouragement (in addition to the many rides to and from the airport). Finally, I would like to express a special and heartfelt thanks to Kimberlina Paulson for her patience.

Table of Contents

INTRODUCTION; OR, TO WHOM IT MAY CONCERN 1

CHAPTER ONE: THE POLITICS OF HANDWRITING 25

CHAPTER TWO: AN ECONOMY OF LETTERS 72

CHAPTER THREE: ATTICUS AND THE BUSINESS OF LETTER-WRITING 106

CHAPTER FOUR: THE SOCIOLOGIES OF WAX-TABLETS AND PAPYRUS IN ROMAN EPISTOLOGRAPHY 132

CHAPTER FIVE: THE DELIVERY AND RECEPTION OF AN EPISTULA 175

PS. 218

BIBLIOGRAPHY 226

Introduction; Or, To Whom It May Concern

Cicero: I dare say, your work today will earn you immortality. Pullo: How’s that? Cicero: I will be in all the history books. My killer’s name will live on also, no doubt. Pullo: Ah (pause), my name (laughs); I thought you meant me.

Rome. Episode no. 18, first broadcasted February 18 2007 by HBO. Directed by Roger Young and written by Eoghan Mahony.

I Cicero’s Textuality

There are many versions of Cicero’s bloody demise.1 The most fascinating version of the mors Ciceronis in my opinion is not found in the ancient sources, but in the

HBO/BBC drama Rome. With sicarius (and series protagonist) Titus Pullo having been dispatched by the triumvirs to murder him, Cicero furiously writes a letter to Brutus and

Cassius warning them of Octavian and Antony’s newfound coalition. After hastily finishing the epistle, Cicero quickly pours ash on the ink to dry it, rolls up the sheets of papyri, and places the epistula into a capsula. Cicero then gives this capsula to a tabellarius and extracts a promise (“on your life!”) that he will transport this epistle to its destination. The tabellarius drops the epistle only a few miles from Cicero’s villa after a near collision with the daughter of Lucius Vorenus, the series’ other main protagonist.

Back at the villa, Titus Pullo arrives and, after Tiro ineffectually attempts to defend his former dominus, Cicero and Pullo discuss their respective places in history in a scene that provides me with my epigraph. Pullo then slays Cicero, who dies the death of a Stoic in every sense of the term.

1 For Cicero’s death in the ancient sources, see Sen. Controv. 7.2 and Suas. 6-7, Livy, Per. 120, Val.Max. 5.3.4, Vell. Pat. 2.66, Plut. Cic. 48-49, App. BCiv. 4.19-20, and Dio Cass. 47.8.3-4 and 11.1-2. On the historiography of Cicero’s death and the interpolation of rhetorical exercises within it, see Roller (1997) and Wright (2001). For discussions concerning the symbolic meaning of the fact that Antony had Cicero’s head and hands amputated, see Richlin (1999) and Butler (2001).

1 2

The Cicero of Rome is in many ways my Cicero: he is an epistolographer who also happened to give speeches and write philosophical treatises. As is their prerogative, many scholars (perhaps the vast majority of them) envision Cicero as an orator or a philosopher, who wrote letters in his spare time.2 In particular, though, it is Cicero and

Pullo’s gallows conversation that best embodies the themes of this dissertation, since it places on display Cicero’s relationship with textuality. For this version of Cicero, the idea that his textual persona will outlive his corporeal existence offers him some comfort in his final moments. Cicero’s entire mode of living was thoroughly embedded in letters

(i.e. litterae, both literature and epistles) right up to and including the moment of his death. Hence Rome has captured something important about Cicero despite the many liberties which the series takes.

We could say that texts, or more abstractly textuality, made Cicero. He was not wealthy to the same scale as many of his peers, nor did he have a patrician lineage or command the loyalty of an army. Cicero was a writer. He was a novus homo who made his way up the cursus honorum largely by his shrewd exploitation of textuality. For

Cicero, texts were central to his self-conception and presentation, crucial for the creation and maintenance of his social relations, and even, as we shall see, critical for his financial well-being. This is not, however, to deny the importance of Cicero the performer. His skill in manipulating live audiences (that is, in performing) clearly played an important

2 By way of comparison, Hutchinson (1998: 3) notes that the Letters occupy 1431 pages in the Teubner editions, roughly half of what Cicero’s speeches do, but near equal to Cicero’s philosophical treatises and twice the length of his rhetorical works. Of course, for all these genres of Cicero’s oeuvre, there are missing works; however, in the case of the Letters these lacunae are particularly large. At least forty books of Letters that circulated in antiquity are now lost (cf. Nicholson [1998: 76-77]) and perhaps more. Achard (1991: 139) implies that even these known collections likely only represent a small fraction of Cicero’s total epistolary output over his lifetime given his estimate that Cicero wrote ten letters a day.

role in his rise to fame and to cultural and political authority.4 Nonetheless, for obvious reasons, these performances are difficult to access. Even when they speak of the performance, what scholars are analyzing is their durable textual traces. That is to say, scholars examining the performance are for the most part discussing the text, or rather

Cicero’s textuality.5 In recent years we have seen an impressive number of monographs

(to say nothing of articles) exploring Cicero’s exploitation of texts and textuality in innovative ways to advance his career.6 Cicero’s success at these strategies is evinced by the fact that others copied this strategy in the imperial era.7

While it is true that texts and textuality made Cicero, what do we mean by these terms? Generally, when scholars discuss ‘texts’ or ‘textuality,’ we are discussing texts as containers of carefully fashioned rhetoric; that is, a text is a linguistic work that happens to have a physical container.8 It is a choice wine that can be transferred between bottles and glasses without affecting its taste. Here we see more exactly just how scholars have been able to conflate so easily performance and text. We regard both primarily as linguistic productions. Yet such a conflation of the linguistic work with the text is problematic, since the “work as such can never be accessed but through some kind of text, that is, through the specific sign system designated to manifest a particular work.”9

That is, texts are physical artifacts and products of the interface between a species of

4 E.g. see Gunderson (2000), Millar (2001), and Morstein-Marx (2004). 5 The degree of similarity between the live performance and the published text is a difficult question to answer. See Morstein-Marx (2004: 25-28) for a discussion. 6 For examples of this trend, see the following monographs: Vasaly (1993), Krostenko (2001), Butler (2001), Millar (2002), Dugan (2005), Steel (2005), van der Blom (2010), White (2010), Stroup (2011), and Baraz (2012). 7 E.g. see Gibson and Steel (2010) on the parallel nature of the careers of Cicero and Pliny the Younger. 8 The Oxford Dictionary of Literary Terms defines “textuality” thus: “The condition of being textual, or in other words of ‘writtenness.’” 9 Gunder (2001: 87); emphasis mine.

information technology and a linguistic production.10 In addition, all readers interpret a text by recourse to the interaction between the “double helix of perceptual codes” which make up every text:11 the linguistic code, the text per se and the traditional exegetical arena of the literary academic, and the bibliographic code, which is what cannot receive oral embodiment in a book, but remains salient for the hermeneutic process of interpretation. A text, then, is never just the words on the page; it is always a more complicated cultural artifact.

Some studies have attempted to contextualize Cicero’s texts not just as linguistic works, but also as cultural artifacts within Roman society. Sarah Stroup has given attention to the social politics of the exchange of dedicated texts between various writers,12 while both Shane Butler and Sean Gurd have discussed Cicero’s skill at deploying more documentary forms of textuality to his own advantage in his orations.13

Yet these are the exceptions that prove the rule. When scholarship discusses the textual underpinnings of Cicero, it rarely accounts for the physical materiality of the text in its analyses. This inability to see the text for the work is a common blind spot in humanities scholarship,14 and is perhaps an understandable one in a discipline like Classics. Unlike scholars in the modern languages, we classicists of necessity have a very circumscribed view of the materiality of the works which we study, since so little survives. For this

10 See Hayles’ (2003: 264) discussion of how “navigational functionalities are not merely ways to access the work but part of a work’s signifying structure.” 11 For the concept of bibliographic code, which is the aesthetics (punctuation and presentation) of the text as having hermeneutic significance, see McGann (1991: 3-18). I would note, however, that this metaphor is not well suited to its purpose, since the coding and non-coding strands in the double helix only rarely work in unison. In general, only one strand is active in the process at one time. McGann’s theory supposes that the linguistic and bibliographic codes are used in concert in creating meaning. 12 See in particular Stroup (2010: 66-96). 13 Cf. Butler (2001) and Gurd (2007 and 2010). 14 E.g. see Barry (2010), who reviews the various scholarly approaches to ‘reading’ texts. All of the approaches that he surveys treat the text as a linguistic unit. Indeed, even when he acknowledges that texts have different material versions, Barry (2010: 1003-1004) sees the consequence of this as multiple linguistic versions.

reason, any attempt to reintegrate materiality into our discussions of Cicero’s textuality will be challenging. Nonetheless, we must try in order to gain a more complete understanding of these texts.

In what follows, I examine the influence and effects which the materiality of one particular genre of textuality, epistolography, had upon Cicero’s textual transactions and its role in maintaining and augmenting his interlinked social, political, and financial positions in this society. Through this study of the materiality of epistolography, we can appreciate just how embedded Cicero’ life was in textuality and how Cicero exploited and manipulated textuality both linguistically and materially to his own advantage; that is, we can understand why Cicero’s textualized nomen would have meant so much to him. To achieve these objectives, I focus on three related aspects of the material epistula: the mode of production, the choice of medium, and the mechanisms for delivery. In the course of these studies, however, I also discuss the connections that existed between the textual culture of Roman epistolography and other written cultures in Roman society.

The means of production, the medium, and the channels of distribution often overlapped between epistolary, documentary, and literary textual cultures in Roman society. As we shall see, the use of a medium or the social politics of a textual practice in one of these cultures could often influence their employment and meaning in another textual culture.

As a result, my examination of the material letter and the textual culture of Roman epistolography should also help to facilitate a deeper understanding of the literary and documentary textual cultures at Rome.

By putting the focus on the physical properties of these epistulae, I am proposing an ‘archaeology,’ as it were, of Cicero’s Letters. As with any archaeological project, we

must carefully survey the site of excavation before we can remove the layers of culture that have accumulated around these epistulae and perform an autopsy of these artifacts.

As part of this survey, we need first to explore the problematic nature of this terrain as we approach it; only then can we examine how and why Cicero the epistolographer practised his craft; finally, we must review the history of scholarship on the Letters. After surveying all these topics, I will lay out my own plans for the excavation of these epistulae in detail.

II Reading Cicero’s Letters

There are a number of difficulties in approaching an epistolary corpus such as

Cicero’s Letters. Perhaps most problematic is the temptation to think that the Letters offer an intimate and privileged view of the real Cicero. More modern novels and scholarship have commonly understood epistolography as a confessional genre, and even ancient literary critics thought of epistolography as uniquely revealing the writer’s character.15 Elite Romans wrote letters for a variety of different reasons, as we shall see, but I will argue that their motivation was rarely confessional. While his epistolary collection offers a different perspective upon Cicero, and one that often puts him at odds with the man of rhetoric, oratory, and philosophy,16 we must remember that it does not offer a transparent view upon a real Cicero; the Letters simply offer a perspective upon another Cicero, and a mutable Cicero at that, who is often shifting depending upon the

15 Cf. Demetrius of Phalerum on the ethical nature of epistolary discourse: πλεῖστον δὲ ἐχέτω τὸ ἠθικὸν ἡ ἐπιστολή, ὥσπερ καὶ ὁ διάλογος: σχεδὸν γὰρ εἰκόνα ἕκαστος τῆς ἑαυτοῦ ψυχῆς γράφει τὴν ἐπιστολήν. καὶ ἔστι µὲν καὶ ἐξ ἄλλου λόγου παντὸς ἰδεῖν τὸ ἦθος τοῦ γράφοντος, ἐξ οὐδενὸς δὲ οὕτως, ὡς ἐπιστολῆς (El. 4.227). It also does not help that the familiar letter is, as White notes (2010: 3), the genre of ancient text “altered least in the course of its descent to us.” 16 After the rediscovery of Cicero’s epistolary corpus, Petrarch composed letters in reply to Cicero in which he expressed his disappointment that Cicero the epistolographer failed to live up to the standards of Cicero the philosopher (Familiar Letters 24.3-4). This disappointment is apparent in modern studies, too; see Claassen (1992: 20-23) for a survey of these reactions.

correspondent and the needs of a particular epistle. These epistles are anything but unfiltered, both in terms of how Cicero wrote them and in what remains of them. Thus, our first task is to survey the nature of Roman epistolography and the site of the Letters.

Scholarship has often focused on the question of how we should read these epistles, and in particular whether we should regard the Letters as a form of literature or a historical source. Indeed, some scholars have posited a strong division between real letters and literary epistles.17 Such a division, however, is unproductive. The Letters are real and historical in addition to being literary and rhetorical. These aspects cannot be separated. Gunderson has observed, in an appropriately Ciceronian manner: “this literary dimension of the letters is a rock upon which philology has been foundering.”18 That is, all studies of the Letters employ philological and literary skills to produce their findings.

Nonetheless, few are explicit about their methodology.19 While Roman epistolography offers a transcript of the textualized conversation between two real people, it is still a complex discursive practice whose artifice must be deconstructed on any reading of the text.20 Even Cicero’s less rhetorical and more casual letters represent deliberate stylistic choices which were designed to elicit particular responses from his correspondents.21

Moreover, there are certain overriding structures to epistolary discourse (epistolarity),

17 Deissmann (1895: 187-254) originally posited a difference between a real Brief and a literary Epistel in an effort to reevaluate New Testament epistles without the burden of comparing them to pagan epistolography. He thus placed Cicero’s Letters on the side of the Epistel. Luck (1961) reiterated such a binary, and summarizes the distinction thus: “Im Brief gibt sich der Schreiber so, wie er ist; in der Epistel stilisiert er ein ganz bestimmtes Stück seiner selbst” (Luck [1961: 78)]). Such a distinction is nearly impossible to maintain with Cicero and I make thus no distinction in usage between the English terms letter and epistle. More recently, Hutchinson (1998: 1-25) re-litigated the question of the literary nature of the Letters in some unproductive ways, while Schröder (2004) explored these issues more fruitfully. De Pretis (2004: 13-15) and White (2010: 90-99) offer good reviews and critiques of this debate. 18 Gunderson (2007: 3). 19 On this point, see Gunderson (2007: 3-8). 20 On the differences between a vive voca interaction and one mediated by letters, see Kerbrat-Orecchioni (1998). 21 On the artful nature of the casual letter, see Henderson (2007) and Schröder (2004).

which constrain and promote particular discursive strategies.22 The Letters, then, are literary works and historical documents. As a result, the historian must be sensitive to their philological nuances, while the literary scholar must be aware of their social and historical contours. My own reading of this text will attempt to walk this line. I employ close readings of the text (often with the aid of modern ‘theorised’ approaches to reading and recovering texts), but with the ultimate goal of producing sociocultural analyses of the society that produced this text.

We must also beware of the constructed nature of this corpus. The Letters are neither a complete collection of Cicero’s correspondence nor do they entirely reflect the haphazard survival of Cicero’s archive.23 Rather, they are an edited selection of Cicero’s correspondence, and edited in such a way as to offer particular narratives, although I acknowledge that this viewpoint represents a paradigm shift in how scholars have traditionally viewed the Letters. For much of the last century and a half, while scholars debated the identity of the editor of the Letters and the date of their publication,24 all tacitly agreed that the Letters were a historical source that was originally organized chronologically. This assumption explained why this corpus was mostly in chronological order, but not invariably. Those letters not in chronological order would represent later incorrect insertions by a subsequent editor. This viewpoint reached its apogee with the publication of Shackleton Bailey’s venerated editions of and commentaries on the

22 Altman’s (1982) study of the epistolary novel has largely defined discussions of epistolarity. On the epistolarity of the Letters, see E. Gavoille’s (2002) discussion of the presence/absence dialectic in the Ad Atticum collection, Garcea’s (2005: 87-141) treatment of longing in Cicero’s epistles from exile, and White’s (2010: 67-82) survey of the “formal conventions” of the Roman letter. 23 The Letters represent less than half of what we know to have circulated in antiquity; see Nicholson (1998: 76-77) and White (2010: 171). 24 Setaioli (1976) and White (2010: 174-175) offer surveys of this debate at various stages.

Letters, which placed the elements of this corpus into a chronological order.25 Mary

Beard, however, undermined this traditional view in 2002 by suggesting that scholars should read the Letters in their original manuscript order. Beard argued that the individual books within the Letters function in a manner akin to Roman poetry collections. In her reading of this text, Beard explored how the non-chronological arrangement of epistles often seem designed to emphasize and juxtapose certain themes within this collection.26 Most recently, Peter White has shown by careful scrutiny of

Cicero’s correspondence that a sizable gap exists between the epistulae present in this collection and the epistles which Cicero and correspondent state that they have exchanged.27 Moreover, he noted the inclusion of much correspondence with famous and politically powerful individuals in this era and the exclusion of letters to and from freedman and other primarily business associates. White concluded not only that the

Letters were an edited collection, but more importantly that they were constructed to offer a political narrative that detailed the dissolution of the Republic.28

As with any archaeological site that has been contaminated with the various strata of artifacts disturbed, the edited nature of the Letters causes certain problems that can be

25 These volumes have become so venerated that it is now customary to cite Cicero’s epistles by both their traditional manuscript number and by Shackleton Bailey’s ordering system, as I have also done. 26 To take one example: the first book of the Atticus collection begins with a letter outlining Cicero’s upcoming campaign for the consulship. Such a beginning is a fitting opening for the letter collection of an individual whose identity was predicated on his actions as consul. Subsequent letters in the first book of the Atticus collection, however, jump back in time. They detail Cicero’s campaign for praetor and how he came to run for consul. Finally, this book concludes curiously by skipping over Cicero’s time as consul to finish by describing the bona dea affair and foreshadow Cicero’s exile. Beard (2002: 128) argues that the navigational functionality of the scroll would help smooth the chronological variatio in this book, just as the scroll does with Latin poetry books. The linear manner in which readers encounter the text invites them to resolve such conflicts and incorporate them into the narrative. In contrast, if we rearrange this book into a chronological order, as Shackleton Bailey does, we start with epistula 1.5. This letter opens with Cicero’s lamentation over the death of his cousin Lucius. Where we begin and end a book obviously has great influence on the overall meaning of true narrative. In the case of the first book of Ad Atticum, do we, indeed should we, start on the eve of Cicero’s greatest triumph or a scene of deep grief? 27 White (2010: 34-43). 28 White (2010: 59-61).

neither ignored nor easily solved. The Letters are not necessarily a representative sample of what Cicero wrote daily, but a medley of letters selected by person or persons unknown for reasons about which modern readers only can conjecture. As a result, the evidence (and the amount of evidence) that we find concerning the material epistula is far from complete and to some extent arbitrary. Thus, our ability to read this correspondence is contingent on “the tyranny of the evidence.”29 We can only read what remains, yet what remains is not necessarily representative of the relationships between correspondents. In practice, there is little more we can do than be aware of this fact.

Throughout this dissertation, however, as I discuss Cicero’s epistolary dialogues with various correspondents, I endeavor to remain sensitive to the fact that the impression we receive regarding these relationships may partially be the product of ancient editorial intervention.

III Cicero the Epistolographer

Although he became the best-known practitioner of this art, Cicero himself did not create Roman epistolography,30 but entered into an established epistolary culture and worked within its parameters.31 There were already established genres of letters by

Cicero’s day: commendationes (of which the Ciceronian examples are mostly reflected in the thirteenth book of the Ad familares)32 and consolationes (spread throughout the corpus).33 While consolationes and commendationes provide examples of two distinct and recognizable genres of Roman epistolography, most of Cicero’s other litterae are far

29 Pace Cornell (1991). 30 Ebbeler (2003) notes that Caesar’s epistolary works, which do not survive, were popular and influential in antiquity. 31 On the history of Latin letters before Cicero, see Cugusi (1983: 151-157). 32 On letters of recommendation, see Cotton (1981, 1984, and 1985) and Deniaux (1993). 33 For the most recent treatment of consolationes, see Wilcox (2005a and 2005b).

more heterogeneous and likely to skip to-and-fro in the terms of content. In general, though, epistles discharged a few common functions for the Roman elite of this era: a means of staying in contact;34 they functioned as a way of managing one’s affairs while away from the urbs, particularly one’s financial affairs (as we often see in Cicero’s correspondence with Atticus, who managed his friend’s portfolio);35 and finally, we should not forget that the correspondents may have genuinely liked each other and sought each others’ company by epistles when it was denied in person. Yet, while these various motivations explain the reasons why Roman epistolographers wrote individual letters, it does not explain the larger sociology of letter-writing in upper class Roman society.

The exchange of epistulae among members of the Roman elite operated within and in concert with the much larger economies of Roman society, particularly those of friendship and status. Wilcox refers to this process as the “epistolary habit” of the

Roman elite; she succinctly summarizes it thus: “members of the Roman elite used the literary letter, and the exchange of letters, as a means of constructing personal identity and in order to cultivate, maintain, and otherwise negotiate social relations amongst their peers.”36 By using pragmatic linguistic analysis, White comes to a similar conclusion.

He notes that the explicit message of letters is often not actually the message; rather, it is the fact that one party decided to write at all. He notes that “[t]he writing of a letter represents the renewal of a personal alliance” and the “function of letters was to serve as prophylactics against such estrangements.” 37 Such a system, I should emphasize,

34 One of the oldest and most basic topoi in Roman epistolography is the expression of desire that someone make someone else more certain of something (facere or fieri certiorem); e.g. Cic. Att. 12.20.2 = SB 258 and Fam. 3.8.9 = SB 70. 35 Scholars have shown more interest recently in discussions of finances (especially the system of debt in Rome) in this corpus; see Ioannatou (2006) and Rollinger (2009). 36 Wilcox (2002: 1). 37 White (2010: 29 and 19).

describes relations between male epistolographers. While women in this era assuredly did write letters to both male and female correspondents, too little of this correspondence survives to allow us to assume that the sociology of epistolography operated in analogous manner for female and male members of the Roman elite.38 For elite Roman men, however, we can conclude that they wrote letters to each other primarily because this medium enabled them to maintain their status and continue their way of life even when the increasing size of the Roman Empire spatially fragmented the ruling elite.39 In particular, it allowed them to maintain contact, to exchange intelligence, and to continue the exchange of traditional favors and services (officia), which helped to define and regulate their relations. For example, consolationes and commendationes discharged the duties of an aristocrat towards a fellow member of the elite in the Roman social economy, duties which previously would have been conducted face to face.40 For someone like

Cicero, it would have been crucial to maintain the proper flow and exchange of such epistolary commodities in this economy, since he was a novus homo and his claim to position and status within the elite would have been more tenuous than that of many of his correspondents.41

38 On letter-writing by elite Roman women, see Hemelrijk (1999: 188-202). Book fourteen of the Ad familiares contains letters from Cicero to his wife, Terentia, and daughter, Tullia, but not their replies. In addition, we know that a book of letters between Cicero and a rich, older matrona named Caerellia circulated (cf. Quint. Inst. 63.112), but it does not survive. This correspondence, however, received a hostile reception in antiquity (cf. Dio Cass. 46.18.3-4), which suggests that the exchange of letters between women and men at least had a different sociology than those exchanged between just Roman men; see Hemelrijk (1999: 189-191). Since the available evidence in the Letters only allows me to make claims about aristocratic men, I use ‘he’ as the default pronoun whenever I discuss a generic Roman epistolographer; however, when I occasionally discuss modern epistolography, I use more gender-neutral language. 39 For how the expansion of the Roman Empire both abetted and necessitated the development of Roman epistolography, see Cugusi (1983: 154-157) and Achard (1991: 131-149). 40 Hall (2009: 17-18) and White (2010: 19-23). 41 It is not clear where or how Roman epistolographers learned their craft in this era. Most likely it was through informal instruction of young elites by their elders. See Hall (2009: 18-27) for a fuller discussion.

Indeed, a recurring theme throughout this thesis will be the importance of proper epistolary practices for proving one’s socialization in aristocratic mores and the manner in which such proof can subsequently be parlayed into tangible material benefit. Here I make use of the sociologist Pierre Bourdieu’s theory of a symbolic economy. I see these epistulae as items of symbolic capital, which Bourdieu defines thus:

The aggregate of the actual or potential resources which are linked to possession of a durable network of more or less institutionalized relationships of mutual acquaintance and recognition - or in other words, to membership in a group - which provides each of its members with the backing of the collectivity-owned capital, a “credential” which entitles them to credit, in the various senses of the word.42

Epistulae exchanged amongst members of the Roman elite well embody this “durable network of more or less institutionalized relationships of mutual acquaintance and recognition.” They were proof of one’s access to certain networks of relationships within

Roman society. Yet symbolic value should not be understood as a value that is merely symbolic or as a value that is insubstantial and unreal. Central to Bourdieu’s conception of symbolic capital is the tenet that individuals can freely exchange one item of symbolic capital for another in this economy and convert it into economic capital.43 Bourdieu comments: “Symbolic capital is this denied capital, recognized as legitimate, that is, misrecognized as capital (recognition, acknowledgment, in the sense of gratitude aroused by benefits can be one of the foundations of this recognition).”44 It is, however, only possible to convert symbolic capital into material wealth with the traffickers’ careful insistence (that is, public display) of economic disinterestedness, since symbolic capital loses its “value” whenever it appears to have been tainted by overt monetization. What

42 Bourdieu (1997: 51). 43 On symbolic capital in general and the conversion of various forms of capital, see Bourdieu (1990: 112- 121). 44 Bourdieu (1990: 118).

makes symbolic capital valuable, in fact, is the belief that it supposedly offers something that money cannot buy. Thus, if the possessor of these forms of symbolic capital appears too eager to monetize them, the ‘market’ for these symbolic commodities crashes. The tension between the symbolic value of these epistulae and their potential financial worth is regularly on display in the Letters.

The basics of the actual mechanics of writing and sending letters in this era are well known.45 To begin with, there is the medium. For Romans of an earlier time, tablets were the default media in epistolary communications, as the Latin term for letter courier (tabellarius) demonstrates.46 By Cicero’s time, epistolographers used wax-tablets in a far more circumscribed manner, as papyrus had become the dominant medium for the correspondence of the Roman elite.47 Republican epistolographers wrote their letters with a reed pen (calamus), which they dipped regularly into ink (atramentum).48 But the author of a letter is not necessarily the person who wrote it down. Often a scribe (usually a slave) would do the actual inscribing of the letter. In this mode of production for the epistula, the epistolographer might dictate the whole letter, or he might simply give a vague outline of the contents and leave it to the scribe to flesh out the particulars. In any event, the contents of the letter were arranged into a series of columns in the manner akin

45 See Dziatzko (1899: 836-838), Büchner (1948: 1207-1211), Cugusi (1983: 42-72), and Richards (2004: 47-52); in addition, Luck (1961: 81) both describes and provides a pictorial depiction of the technology of letter-writing in Roman times. 46 Fest. p.490 (ed. Lindsay): tabellis pro chartis utebantur antiqui, quibus ultro citro, sive privatim sive publice opus erat, certiores absentes faciebant. Unde adhuc tabellari dicuntur, et tabellae missae ab imperatoribus. See also Isid. Orig. 5.24.4 and 6.8.18. 47 Indeed, in 51 BC, Cicero sent a package of papyrus to Atticus when Atticus’ supplies had run short, since he understood the supply of letters to be coterminous with that of papyrus (Att. 5.44.4 = SB 97). Parchment, although known, was not used for letters until late antiquity; see Birt (1882: 61-63). I leave aside ostraca as an epistolary medium, which a person of Cicero’s station would not have employed. 48 Cf. Cic. Att. 6.8.1 = SB 122 (cum instituissem ad te scribere calamumque sumpsissem) and Q.fr. 2.15.1 = SB 19 (calamo et atramento temperato, charta etiam dentata res agetur. scribis enim te meas litteras superiores vix legere potuisse). I discuss this latter passage at length in chapter four. On the manufacture of ink for writing, cf. Plin. Nat. 35.25.41-42 and Vitr. De arch. 7.10.2.

to literary books.49 Letter writers would then roll up the papyrus and seal the letter with a wax-seal.50 They would dispatch someone to deliver the letter. Typically this person was the tabellarius, although on other occasions the epistolographer might make use of his freedman, amici, or even members of the publicani. Nonetheless, what republican epistolographers could not use to dispatch their epistulae was a public postal service.

Such are the fundamental features of the physical letter, and typically this outline of the materiality of the epistula is what scholars provide,51 presuming that they offer anything at all on the topic. Yet there is much more to the story of the material letter.

Rather than outline everything at this juncture, however, I have chosen to provide the traditional basic outline and supply the necessary additional details as we discuss each individual element of the epistula chapter by chapter.

IV The History of Scholarship on the Letters

In an overarching narrative, we could plot the history of scholarship on the Letters as a tale of increasing awareness amongst scholars especially since the 1990s that

Cicero’s epistolary corpus represents a site of complex discursive practices. For much of the twentieth century, scholarship treated Cicero’s epistles instead as mere adjuncts to the true objects of study (philosophy, history, or oratory). Thus, most of the research projects that focused on the Letters in the late nineteenth- and early twentieth-centuries sought to reorder the Letters into a chronological arrangement and provide extensive commentaries on the individual epistles.52 The ideological basis for such projects seems clear: to make

49 Paginae refers to columns, not pages (as Ebbeler [2003: 9] believes); cf. Dziatzko (1899: 838). 50 Cf. what Cicero writes Atticus about how he plans to disguise their correspondence from prying eyes: me faciam Laelium et te Atticum neque utar meo chirographo neque signo, si modo erunt eius modi litterae quas in alienum incidere nolim. (Att. 2.20.5 = SB 40). 51 E.g. Shackleton Bailey (1984: 12) and White (2010: 64-65). 52 E.g. Tyrrell and Purser (1904-1933), Constans et al. (1969-1996), and Shackleton Bailey (1965-1970 and 1977).

the Letters an accessible source for social and political historians.53 While such work has been essential for all later studies of the Letters (including my own), it has also had the tendency to reinforce the belief that scholarly projects could unproblematically excavate historical data from the strata of complex discursive (and, I would add, material) politics that surround the Letters.54 Thus, few studies took care to explore the Letters with attention to the context of passages in situ and to the general arrangement of linguistic artifacts surrounding them.55

The tides have shifted dramatically in the last twenty years as scholars have crafted much more nuanced accounts of Cicero’s Letters. Hutchinson began this renaissance by engaging in a “literary study” of the Letters, although his book can be problematic in certain aspects since it sometimes overlooks the historical and social context of various letters in its analyses.56 At the same time, Eleanor Leach attempted a more nuanced reading of the Letters by deploying Lacanian psychoanalytic theory on

Cicero’s correspondence with Varro and Paetus.57 Articles by Peter White, Jon Hall, and

Erik Gunderson soon followed and added new perspectives and ways of reading these epistles; 58 in addition, Beard published in this period her seminal article on the importance of the manuscript order of the Letters.59 Both White’s and Hall’s papers

53 Gibson (2012: 58). 54 Carcopino (1951), Jäger (1986), Hooper and Schwartz (1991: 17-50), Baldwin (1992), and Claassen (1996) display this tendency towards unnuanced, literal readings of the letters, which often ignored their discursive complexity. Of course, there is also the opposite tendency – to treat the Letters as literature divorced from its historical situation; cf. Hutchinson (1998) and even Beard (2002), which veers somewhat in this direction. 55 Wistrand’s (1979) examination of Cicero’s correspondence is a rare example that defied this trend. 56 Hutchinson (1998), which is ablely critiqued by Ebbeler (1998); see also Hutchinson (1993), which was a prelude to his monograph. 57 Leach (1999); see also Leach (2006). 58 Hall (1998), White (2003), and Gunderson (2007). Gunderson’s contribution was particularly welcome, since it provided a much more nuanced reading of Cicero’s letters to his wife Terentia than Claassen (1996) and Grebe (2003) had done. 59 Beard (2002).

turned out to be preludes to full-length monographs on the Letters. Hall’s resulting book treated one particular issue, the application of strategies of politeness in Roman society, and used it to reread much of Cicero’s correspondence.60 Hall showed that any reading of the Letters must incorporate an understanding that these correspondents were constantly working under certain societal constraints to avoid losing face or offending their correspondent. In contrast, White’s monograph investigated a number of topics in an effort “to relate the letters of Cicero to the letter-writing habits of a particular Roman milieu.”61 My dissertation builds upon one of these discussions, White’s brief analysis of the influence of the material letter as “frames of reference” for a reader.62 Finally, while I was in the last stages of drafting this dissertation, Amanda Wilcox published a monograph, a revision of her 2002 dissertation.63 She has added a number of more nuanced readings of Cicero’s relationships, but perhaps most important is her observation that the epistula circulated within Roman society as a type of gift, which placed certain obligations upon the recipient to respond in kind.64 Although she does not explore the interaction of this gift economy with the financial economy, Wilcox’s gift economy paradigm for understanding republican epistolography fits particularly well with my own understanding of the Letters as a symbolic economy.

While many other articles and books have made use of the Letters, these articles and monographs discussed above represent the scholarly literature that is directly devoted to the Letters. As we can see, over the last twenty-five years scholars have productively

60 Hall (2009), of which I make regular use in this dissertation. 61 White (2010: IX). 62 White (2010: 64-67). 63 Wilcox’s (2002) dissertation also spawned two articles (Wilcox [2005a and 2005b]). See also Meyer’s (2000) dissertation on the ethical rhetoric of the Letters, which has yet to become a monograph. 64 Wilcox (2012: 7-12).

explored many aspects of the multifaceted linguistic politics of the Letters, in addition to investigating the complexity of its architecture. Yet scholars have given little attention to the material politics at work in this collection. And thus we finally come to my project, the archaeology of Cicero’s Letters.

V An Archaeology of the Text

By proposing an archaeology of this text, I am not suggesting an archaeological investigation in the traditional sense of the word, nor even the type of examination which papyrologists are accustomed to performing. These types of projects conventionally begin with an excavation and subsequently perform an autopsy of the exhumed artifacts.

This process is not possible for Cicero’s epistulae, since the original copies of his epistulae do not survive.65 The absence of the original epistles represents an obstacle, but not an insurmountable one. Research in the field of papyrology offers examples of what an ancient epistula would have looked like and this view can be corroborated in relation to what Cicero tells us in the Letters.66 In any event, at no point do I base my arguments on the presence or absence of a ligature of a certain letter, or the exact fiber count of a particular sheet of papyrus. Undoubtedly these aspects of Cicero’s material epistulae would be interesting if we had the original letters; however, we do not. Thus, I confine myself to examining the much larger structures of the material letter – who wrote the letter, what was its medium, and who delivered these epistles – which can be ascertained

65 The last that we hear of the original copies of Cicero’s missives is Nepos’s reference to them in his biography of Atticus (14.2-3). 66 There are only a few Latin letters that survive from the first century BC (P.Oxy. 44 3208, P. Berol. 13956, and P.Vindob.lat.1b), although these are all from Egypt and written by people of much lower status than Cicero. In addition, there are the Vindolanda tablets and the letters of Claudius Terentianus (P. Mich. VIII 467-72), of which I make use throughout this dissertation. See also Cugusi’s (1992-2002) three- volume collection of Latin letters from antiquity on papyri, tablets, or ostraca.

from the linguistic contents of these letters, and to teasing out sociocultural implications from these features.

In order to better understand the meaning of the physical text in Cicero’s Letters, however, I make use of two additional sources of evidence that help me to contextualize more fully the usages of ancient epistolary media. The first of these sources are the theories of textuality which the emerging academic fields of media archaeology and book history have developed. Media archaeology is characterized by its focus on physical texts and other media as material and cultural artifacts and by its rejection of technologically deterministic accounts for the uses of particular species of information technology in a society.67 Working in parallel (if rarely in direct dialogue) is book history, an academic movement (particularly amongst scholars in History and English and the other modern languages) which has reconsidered the nature of textuality and revealed the historically contingent nature of such categories as ‘author’ and ‘book.’68

Work in this field has similarly reconfirmed the social nature of texts; that is, they have emphasized that texts are social artifacts whose meanings derive from the interaction of many social actors (writers, editors, printers, sellers, and readers) during the processes of production and consumption.69 In my own analyses of the material epistula, I operate with a similar assumption that individuals in Roman society developed textual practices

67 This field has its origins in Parry and Lord’s attempts to solve the ‘Homeric question,’ which later led to work by the so-called Toronto school of communication theory (Harold Innis [1950], Eric Havelock [1963], and perhaps most famously Marshall McLuhan [1962 and 1964]) and later by Walter Ong (1982). With the onset of the digital age, a new generation of scholars has explored the social implications of the advent of new forms of information technology; in particular, see Ernst (2005), Gitelman (2006), and Huhtamo and Parikka (2012). 68 Robert Darnton (1982), a pioneer in book history, offers a useful introduction to this field. Febvre and Martin (1976), Eisenstein (1980), Chartier (1995), and Johns (2000) represent some of the most important studies in this field, although all focus on aspects of print culture. 69 Particularly influential for my own thinking on the matter are D.F. McKenzie’s (1999) discussion of the “sociology of texts” and Jerome McGann’s (1991) treatment of the “double helix of perceptual codes,” which I discussed earlier.

that best fit their social and cultural needs, and that these practices do not necessarily represent best technological uses.

I also compare and contrast the material practices that we see in Roman epistolography with those from the epistolary culture of early modern Europe in order to elucidate more clearly the meaning of aspects of materiality for Cicero’s epistles.70 For early modern epistolographers, the physical letter was hermeneutically significant. This transformation of medium into message has been aptly termed “social materiality.”71

James Daybell has been a pioneer in this field.72 In comparison with early modern epistolary culture, the Romans would appear to have underdeveloped the hermeneutic possibilities of the physical letter. In early modern epistles, the position of the signature, the type of script used, and the amount of blank space were all highly political acts, since they delineated rank and status among correspondents.73 Nonetheless, since Roman epistolographers seem to have disliked the aesthetics of a blank space within a letter (cf.

Att. 13.34 = SB 350) and did not normally sign their names to letters, it would perhaps be more accurate to say that there were fewer avenues for Romans to exploit in reference to such social materiality. In general, early modern epistolography is useful for my discussions of the social materiality of the epistula insofar as it offers corroboration that the aesthetics of the letter and the manner of its production and delivery can be semiotically charged and hermeneutically significant for epistolographers.

70 I do not claim, however, that there is a continuity between ancient letter-writing practices and early modern ones, but only that these two cultures present interesting material for comparison. 71 Daybell and Hinds (2010: 2). 72 See Daybell and Hinds’ (2002) edited volume on the material letter and Daybell’s own monograph (2012) on the subject. 73 On these issues, see Gibson (1997), Steen (2001), and Walker (2003) respectively.

VI The Archaeology of Cicero’s Letters

We now finally arrive at the point where I can outline how I will excavate the material epistula in this dissertation. I start by examining in detail the meaning of the mode of production for an epistle. In the first chapter, I investigate how Cicero discussed the mode of production for a letter to Antony (which later became fodder for abusing

Antony in the second Philippic) and also how Cicero critiqued the handwriting practices of his friend, protégé, and correspondent, Trebatius. I use both cases to demonstrate that the mode of production for an epistle did more than verify or refute that amicitia existed between the correspondents (as previous scholarship has maintained). Rather, the manner in which an epistolographer chose to produce a letter was a complex social performance that helped to delineate the social status of the epistolographer, his relationship with the correspondent, and the position of their epistolary transaction on a spectrum of public versus private discourse. In this chapter, I also use the mode of production for an epistle to develop the “economic” model for understanding Roman epistolography that I discussed earlier. Roman epistolography operated within the parameters of a symbolic economy, with each linguistic and material gesture needing to be carefully recorded and repaid. I conclude this chapter by observing how this economy of letters interacted with the financial marketplace (as all such symbolic economies do).

In the second chapter, I reconfirm and expand upon my findings from the first chapter by investigating how two of Cicero's correspondents, L. Munatius Plancus and

M. Caelius Rufus, discussed the production of their own letters. I show that an economic model for Roman epistolography represented not only Cicero's understanding of this discourse, but was also pervasive amongst the Roman aristocracy. Plancus’ justification

to Cicero for his failure to prevent Lepidus’ defection to Antony during the civil war of

43 BC – a letter which places particular emphasis on their exchange of autographed epistles – puts on display the interlinked nature of the various economies (social, moral, and financial) in Roman society. In particular, Plancus reveals that fides was at the center of these economies and animated their healthy functioning. The exchange of letters

(particularly personally autographed ones) placed the epistolographer’s fides at stake, and thus proper or improper epistolary conduct could always have potential financial implications. If Plancus shows the ideological basis for the interaction of these economies, Caelius shows how capital could be easily and quickly exchanged in practice between these economies. In a series of letters, Caelius first negotiates what will be his proper epistolary officia towards his friend Cicero during his time as governor of Cilicia before then bartering these services for certain favors with decidedly economic aspects.

In chapter three, I turn to examine Atticus and Cicero's relationship and the handwriting practices in their correspondence. I avoided discussing this topic earlier because Cicero and Atticus’ amicitia has often been seen as a model of affectionate friendship in the Roman world and thus can cause scholars to ignore additional pragmatic interests that might have motivated a social practice, even in the case of Cicero and

Atticus. In this chapter, I investigate how Atticus’ close friendship with Cicero and with other prominent members of the Roman aristocracy aided his financial portfolio, and how

Atticus’ habit of writing letters by hand to these individuals may help to obscure this added nexus of motivation. In the course of this investigation, I reread Nepos’ biography of Atticus in order to demonstrate that Atticus’ handwriting practices were actually exemplary of his general modus operandi. I conclude this chapter by investigating the

possibility that Atticus manufactured and monetized this sign of intimacy and personal investment in his relationships by having his scribe, Alexis, imitate his handwriting.

In the fourth chapter, I move from discussion of the mode of production for an epistula to examination of the meaning of the media of this discourse. I determine that the conventional employment of wax-tablets in the religious, legal, and commercial spheres motivated its epistolary use. Thus, epistolographers often employed this medium for particularly serious transactions, often of a business nature, but sometimes of a political nature since the use of this medium put the focus on the contents of the letter and emphasized its authenticity. For this argument, I not only make use of Cicero’s Letters, but also of his discussion in the third oration of In Catilinam of those letters which the conspirators sent to the Allobroges during the crisis of 63 BC in an attempt to forge an alliance with the Gallic tribe. I then discuss the medium of papyrus, in particular how the topography of papyrus letters (that is, the arrangement of writing upon these sheets) bore more than a passing resemblance to that of literary texts. I argue that by formatting their papyrus epistles in a manner akin to texts from more literary discourses, republican epistolographers invited increased scrutiny of their discursive practices in these epistulae.

In so doing, papyrus letters became (in the same way as other aristocratic discourses like poetry, history, and philosophy) an arena for displaying and proving one’s elite status.

In the last chapter, I examine the transit of a letter between correspondents. I discuss how Cicero and his correspondents attempted to exploit the method of a letter’s delivery in such a way as to affect the reception of their letters. I also explore how such attempts necessarily involved devolution of power (and authorship) by the writer of the letter to the carrier of the epistula. Letter-carriers could do much to affect the

interpretation of a letter, with or without the writer's permission. Finally, I discuss how the act of carrying a letter could be a profitable activity for the carrier, insofar as it allowed for entrance into friendship with powerful individuals and the chance to prove one's loyal and trustworthy nature. We often witness moments when the carrier later exchanged these items of social capital for economic capital.

Finally, I conclude by discussing Flavius Cerialis, a Roman army officer whose letters have been found during the excavation of the Roman fort of Vindolanda in northern England. His letter-writing practices have often been in the background (and in the footnotes) of my discussion of the materiality of Cicero’s correspondence. I bring him and his letters to the forefront in the conclusion to my dissertation in order both to reiterate the importance of giving critical attention to the material epistula and to review the main findings of this study, while also suggesting how our understanding of the social materiality of republican epistolography could be applied beyond the narrow social and temporal confines which Cicero’s epistolary corpus represents.

Chapter One: The Politics of Handwriting

Was Cicero’s autograph considered a valuable commodity in antiquity? I am not referring here in the rather narrow sense to a person’s signature, but in the broader sense to a text written (partially or wholly) by the author’s hand – a literal manuscript. Nor am

I talking about those supposedly authentic Ciceronian manuscripts, written by the author’s own hand, of which scholars like Pliny the Elder and Quintilian offer tantalizing glimpses.74 These objects clearly had a certain cachet (‘cultural capital’ in sociologists’ terminology)75 in pedantic debates due to their antiquarian quality, but whether they were authentic is a debatable question.76 What interests me, however, is another market for

Cicero’s autograph that existed and flourished during his lifetime. This market (although rarely conceived as being such) was the trade in epistles among the Roman elite in the late Republic where a handwritten letter was accorded a certain indefinable value, but a worth certainly greater than that of its dictated equivalent.

Scholarship has applied a rather fixed value for Cicero’s autograph in relation to his epistulae: proof of amicitia. Miller’s appraisal from her nearly century-old dissertation on ‘etiquette’ in Republican Rome has never truly been challenged; she concluded: “an intimate friend expected the courtesy of a message from the writer’s own hand.”77 Miller’s evidence consists of examples of Cicero apologizing for a dictated

74 For such Ciceronian manuscripts, see: Plin. NH. 13.83 and Quint. Inst. 1.7.20. Tiro’s autographed manuscripts were also valued as pseudo-Ciceronian artifacts (Fronto Ep. 1.7.4 and Gell. NA 1.7.1 and 13.21.15). 75 “Objectified cultural capital,” to be exact, per Bourdieu (1997: 47). 76 For contrasting views, cf. Zetzel (1993) and McDonnell (1996). 77 Miller (1914: 61-62). Büchner’s (1948: 1207) RE entry offers a similar conclusion.

25 26

letter, mostly drawn from Cicero’s correspondence with Atticus.78 Occasionally, the parameters of Miller’s conclusion have been refined. For example, the letter to an

“intimate friend” did not always have to be a true holograph (a document written entirely in the handwriting of the person in whose name it is written) since penning only a section of the epistle personally seems to have been acceptable practice. 79 Papyrological evidence has tended to strengthen these conclusions.80

What scholars have done with this information concerning handwriting practices in the Letters has not been particularly profitable.81 While a few studies have given attention to the hermeneutic significance of Cicero’s epistolary autograph for the process of textual exegisis,82 most often scholarship has gestured towards the palaeography of an epistula in a way that tends to foreclose discussion rather than stimulate debate.83

78 Att. 2.20.5 = SB 40; 4.16.1 = SB 89; 5.14.1 = SB 107; 5.17.1 = SB 110; 8.12.1 = SB 162; Q.Fr. 2.2.1 = SB 6; 2.15.1 = SB 19; 3.3.1 = SB 23. On Cicero’s excuses for a dictated letter, see Guillaumont (2004: 99- 100). Additionally, we know from references within the Letters that Cicero exchanged handwritten epistulae with D. Brutus (Fam. 11.23.2 = SB 402), Tiro (Fam. 16.15.2 = SB 42), Pompey (Att. 8.1.1 = SB 77), Caelius (Fam. 2.13.3 = SB 93), Appius Claudius Pulcher (Fam. 3.6.2 = SB 69), and Trebatius (Fam. 7.18.2 = SB 37). We also are informed that Lepidus corresponded with Plancus sua manu (Fam. 10.21.1/3 = SB 391). 79 Guillaumont (2004). Bahr (1968) comes to the same conclusion concerning Cicero’s letters, but his conclusions have often been overlooked since his focus was the apostle Paul’s letters, 80 See Sirat (2006: 437-440); see also Bowman (1996: 123-124) for the employment of handwritten subscriptiones in the Vindolanda tablets. Even the later emperors seem to have continued to subscribe to such practices; see Millar (1967: 12-14) for a discussion. The fourth century rhetorician, Julius Victor, observed a similar tendency: observabant veteres karissimis sua manu scribere vel plurimum subscribere (Ars Rhet. 27), although surviving ancient treatises on epistolography otherwise remain curiously silent on the act of physically composing a letter; however, Quintilian does suggest in a discussion of pedagogic methodology that high quality calligraphy is desirable both for letter-writing and because a slow pen can impede composition (Inst. 1.1.29). 81 McDonnell (1996: 474-475), Ganz (1997: 282-283), and Sirat (2006: 437-440) reconfirm Miller’s original thesis. Similarly, Ernout (1951: 156) and Herescu (1956: 133), although disagreeing on whether dictated texts or personally written ones were the norm for literary production, agree that letters to friends need to be written sua manu. Nicholson (1994: 57) only briefly considers handwriting within a system of security precautions for Cicero’s epistolary communications. 82 Cf. Butler’s (2002) discussion of the ‘hand’ of Cicero (although I disagree with some of his conclusions, which I will note as we proceed) and White’s (2010: 64-67) consideration of handwriting amid other material signs as hermeneutic “frames of the letter.” 83 E.g. Cugusi (1983: 69-70) and Shackleton Bailey (1980: 12). There are also curious avoidances of the issue; for example, Trapp’s (2003: 6-9) excellent treatment of the different media available to the ancient

Instead, scholarly debate concerning handwriting in the Letters has been outsourced to other fields. Cicero’s autograph has become fodder for a diachronic history of writing,84 a means of answering questions concerning literacy rates in antiquity,85 and a model for understanding the composition of New Testament epistles.86 In contrast, I propose to reevaluate Cicero’s autograph within the original site of its excavation: the Letters. This reappraisal is necessary since the holograph has for too long been evaluated as an artifact in isolation from its in situ context and without reference to the complex negotiations and calculations that constituted social transactions in the Roman aristocracy. Moreover, such a survey of autographs will provide an ideal point of departure for this archaeology of Cicero’s Letters since it furnishes a frame of reference for understanding the sociology of epistolography among the aristocracy at the end of the Roman Republic.

Although Cicero’s practices when writing to Atticus would typically be considered the natural starting point for this type of investigation, I prefer to postpone a discussion of Cicero’s holographs to his optimus amicus for the moment. Too often focus on Cicero’s renowned friendship with Atticus can obscure more pragmatic calculations at work in a social interaction between elite Roman males. Instead, I consider first Cicero’s account in the second Philippic of his cordial antebellum correspondence with his eventual murderer, Antony, and, second, Cicero’s appraisal of the problematic handwriting practices of his protégé, Trebatius. These examples together illustrate the fact that the mode of production for an epistle did far more than resolve the

letter writer and his complete neglect of the letter’s process of production, which one might assume was the necessary complement to such a discussion. 84 E.g. Ganz (1997) and Sirat (2006). 85 McDonnell (1996: 470-476) uses Cicero’s autograph (amongst others) to refute some of Harris’s (1991: 175-284) conclusions regarding literacy among the Roman elite. 86 Bahr (1966 and 1966), Richards (2004), and Keith (2008).

straightforward question of whether the correspondents were amici. On the contrary,

Cicero reveals that the physical production of a letter was a multivalent social performance that became demonstrative of such things as the actor’s place in the larger community, the status of the correspondents’ relationship, and the nature of the social transaction. As a consequence, an autographed letter does, in fact, become confirmation of amicitia between the correspondents; however, I argue that this verification of friendship only occurs as a byproduct of handwriting’s primary sociological function: to produce and police some partition between private and public discourse (that is, personal versus governmental and commercial correspondence). Finally, I contend that the circulation of autographed epistulae amongst the members of the Roman elite and the material hermeneutics of these letters demonstrate that republican epistolography functioned as a symbolic economy, which helped to regulate and negotiate status and friendship amongst the Roman aristocracy, but one which also interconnected covertly with the commercial economy. Roman epistolography should therefore be construed as an effective means by which members of the Roman elite allocated economic resources, controlled social movement, and fortified their own political authority, all while professing that epistolary practices had more to do with moral and ethical qualities than with political and economic power.

I Antony’s Inhumanity

In the second Philippic (a speech never delivered), Cicero not only responds to

Mark Antony’s ad hominem attack upon him in the Senate from September 19, 44 BC, but is also compelled to answer his own words. Earlier that year in a letter from April

14th (Att. 14.13a = SB 367a), Antony had asked for Cicero’s acquiescence regarding the

restoration of Sextus Cloelius, ally and scriba of Cicero’s enemy, P. Clodius.87 Cicero acquiesced in polite fashion to Antony’s request in a reply dated to April 25th. In a letter to Atticus, Cicero states that, although he found the request unpleasant, he presented himself in a genial manner to Antony (ego autem Antonio facillimum me praebui [Att.

14.13.6 = SB 367]); that is to say, Cicero’s reply was in the typical register of an elite

Roman male of the era: an exhibition of personal affection, coupled with excessive politeness.88 In the September senate meeting, Antony made a show of reading this letter aloud (recitavit) to the conscript fathers as proof of Cicero’s hypocrisy (Cic. Phil. 2.7).

While the contemporary reception of Cicero’s letter is unknown to us, modern judgment of Cicero’s amiable letter to Antony has typically been critical: Cicero is faulted for the disingenuous nature of his reply.89

In response, Cicero deploys a number of tactics to neutralize this letter’s potency for Antony’s propaganda. He begins by performing what is a routine political ploy when the facts in question are troublesome – complaining about procedural matters. Cicero writes:

at etiam litteras, quas me sibi misisse diceret, recitavit homo et humanitatis expers et vitae communis ignarus. quis enim umquam, qui paulum modo bonorum consuetudinem nosset, litteras ad se ab amico missas offensione aliqua interposita in medium protulit palamque recitavit? quid est aliud tollere ex vita vitae societatem, tollere amicorum conloquia absentium? quam multa ioca solent

87 On Sextus Cloelius, see Damon (1992). 88 On this type of language in general, see Hall (2009: 29-77) and for this letter in particular, see Hall (2009: 95-97). As example of this excessive regard, Cicero begins the letter by voicing his only objection to Antony’s request: quod mecum per litteras agis unam ob causam mallem coram egisses. non enim solum ex oratione sed etiam ex vultu et oculis et fronte, ut aiunt, meum erga te amorem perspicere potuisses (Att. 14.13b.1 = SB 367B). 89 E.g. SB comments ad loc.: “Like most people who talk or write better than they think, the less genuine the note the more Cicero was apt to force it.” Similarly, Hall (2008: 99) views Cicero’s reply as “an arch parody of the aristocratic rituals that Antony had initiated,” and Albrecht (2003: 61) notes that this letter’s formal style is in contrast to the relaxed and familiar style of the preceding letter to Atticus (Att. 14.13 = SB 367).

esse in epistulis, quae prolata si sint, inepta videantur, quam multa seria neque tamen ullo modo divulganda! (Phil. 2.7)

But even the letters, which he was saying that I sent to him, he read those out, like a man without class and ignorant of social norms. For whoever, who knew even a little of the habits of polite men, produced in an assembly and openly read aloud letters that had been sent to him by a friend, just because some quarrel had arisen between them? What other is that than destroying all companionship in life, destroying the conversations of absent friends? How many silly things in letters, if they were produced in public, would appear stupid! On the other hand, how many grave things should in no way be made common knowledge!90

Like any politician in the case of an embarrassing leak, Cicero takes umbrage concerning a breach of confidentiality in order to deflect attention away from the contents of the leak.

Thus, Cicero moves to attack Antony’s conduct in this affair. Antony is devoid of humanitas, without acquaintance with the habits of “good men” (bonorum consuetudinem), and therefore openly circulates and publicly reads private letters (in medium protulit palamque recitavit) at the slightest provocation (offensione aliqua interposita). To my mind Antony’s poverty of humanitas is the linchpin of this criticism since Cicero (apparently not content with his readers’ inherent understanding of the term) issues two glosses on this term: first, by means of the hendiadys of humanitatis expers et vitae communis ignarus;91 and, second, via the rhetorical question with its connective enim (quis enim umquam…). In Cicero’s accounting, humanitas becomes equal to a familiarity with aristocratic customs (that is, the customs of the boni viri) from which proper epistolary habits derive, particularly in regard to one’s treatment of private letters.

If we examine this passage more closely, we discover that what Cicero finds to be particularly deficient in humanitas in Antony’s conduct is his treatment of Cicero’s

90 For larger passages, I have provided translations. All translations are my own, although I have borrowed elements from both Shackleton Bailey’s (1965-1979 and 2001) and Shuckburgh’s (1908-1909) excellent translations of the Letters and Yonge’s version of the second Philippic. 91 In his commentary, Ramsey (2003: 172) glosses this line as “the norms of social existence.”

epistula as if it were a more public species of textuality; to put it another way, Antony conflates private correspondence with a more public form of discourse in a manner that

Cicero finds menacing. Cicero represents Antony reading out his epistle with a verb

(recitavit), which is typically only applied to litterae that are publicae (official letters to the senate), since they are designed to be read out in the curia.92 Additionally, Cicero is quite explicit in specifying that Antony has effectively published (divulganda) what is a private form of textuality (epistulae) with a highly limited circulation.93 In Cicero’s critique, Antony has mistaken a private discourse for a mass medium. This shift in audience is crucial since, as Cicero notes earlier, there are consequences to the radical expansion of the audience for this discourse (quam multa ioca solent esse in epistulis, quae prolata si sint, inepta videantur): letters lose their original meaning when taken out of their original interpretive context.94 Antony has misunderstood a fundamental division that structures epistolary communications: some letters are meant for one addressee and some for many.95 As a result, Cicero warns that such public exhibition of private dialogue could stifle unfettered dialogue amongst the aristocracy (quid est aliud tollere ex vita vitae societatem, tollere amicorum conloquia absentium).

What I find particularly interesting in this passage (and this is a point to which I will return) is how Cicero’s employment of humanitas suggests that observance of a partition between public and private discourses within epistolography is characteristic of aristocratic mores. Humanitas is often a key structuring force in proper social relations

92 Cf. Fam. 3.3.2 = SB 66, 10.6.1 = SB 370, 10.12.1, 3 = SB 377, 10.16.1 = SB 404, and 12.25.1 = SB 373. On these publicae litterae, see Cugusi (1983: 116-120). 93 Cf. Att. 12.40.1 = SB 281. On divulgare as a term for ‘publishing,’ see Winsbury (2008: 86). 94 See also Fam. 15.21.4 = SB 207: aliter enim scribimus, quod eos solos, quibus mittimus, aliter, quod multos lecturos putamus. 95 Cugusi (1963: 105) terms this division “la distinzione fondamentale” of epistles. See Albrecht (2003: 68- 70) on the stylistic differences between public and private letters. For ancient authorities on this division, cf. Julius Victor Ars Rhet. 47, Cic. Flacc. 37, and Cic. Fam. 15.21.4 = SB 207.

between members of the Roman elite,96 as is the case with its invocation in this passage, and it constitutes an important link in a chain of concepts (like dignitas, pietas, and gravitas) that define a certain elite ethos, although the term itself remains difficult to define (possibly by design).97 Nonetheless, we should beware of ever treating humanitas as a fixed property since this word (like ‘sophistication’ or ‘good manners’ in English) is simply a gloss for a vague cultural construct embedded within a certain social system. A concept like humanitas will remain open to constant reinterpretation and redefinition simply because what it defines (upper class Roman culture) is itself continually under negotiation. In this narrative, Cicero presents Antony’s conduct as contrary to this defining value of the elite since he has threatened the elite’s proper functioning (that is, the dialogue amongst its members) by making public Cicero’s private epistle before the senate as if it were some governmental document. From a broader social perspective, however, what Cicero is implying is even more significant. He is suggesting that textual practices are a set of internalized values and habits (habitus in Bourdieu’s terms) that constitute a type of social performance, which partially delineates membership in the aristocratic community. Cicero insinuates that Antony is not ‘one of us’ because he has not understood that distinct and differing sets of practices need to be observed in regards to private correspondence and a more public species of this discourse.

In his next rhetorical move, Cicero makes the interesting decision to concede the authenticity of this epistula,98 although he could have attempted to refute his authorship

96 Cf. Hellegouarc’h (1963: 269), who cites this passage amongst others in his discussion. 97 On the difficulty of interpreting humanitas, see Hellegouarc’h (1963: 267-271) and Woolf (2005: 55). For example, humanitas sometimes refers to cultural attainment (it is the Latin equivalent of paedeia) while at other times it refers to properly discharging social conventions (together with verecundia); it is also the closest equivalent to the English concept of ‘politeness;’ cf. Oniga (2009: 187-188) and Hall (2009: 4). 98 Cicero had been careful up to this point to distance himself from this letter (at etiam litteras, quas me sibi misisse diceret, recitavit homo…[2.7]).

of it.99 In a deft maneuver, Cicero uses this admission to undercut the value of this epistula for Antony’s propaganda:

sed quid opponas tandem, si negem me umquam ad te istas litteras misisse, quo me teste convincas? an chirographo? in quo habes scientiam quaestuosam. qui possis? sunt enim librarii manu. iam invideo magistro tuo, qui te tanta mercede, quantam iam proferam, nihil sapere doceat. (Phil.2.8)

But what would you counter now, if I were to deny that I ever sent that letter to you? With what evidence could you convict me? With the handwriting? In this you do have an expertise that’s been profitable to you. How could you prove that? For the letter is written by the hand of a scribe. I now envy your teacher, who for all that payment, which I shall mention presently, has taught you to know nothing.

Ridicule becomes Cicero’s overt weapon in this situation since Cicero contends that

Antony has thoughtlessly erred in what Cicero imagines as a quasi-legal oratorical contest (quo me teste convincas?). Cicero mocks Antony for introducing a document into evidence that cannot be linked conclusively to its supposed author in view of the fact that the text was produced by scribal labor (librarii manu), rather than personal autograph. In the rhetorical climax of this idea, Cicero magnifies the extent of Antony’s blunder by drawing attention to the fact that Antony acted thus despite the professional assistance,100 which Antony had purchased for aid in composing this speech (iam invideo magistro tuo, qui te tanta mercede, quantam iam proferam, nihil sapere doceat). Moreover, Cicero’s didacticism seems designed to invite the reader to make an implicit comparison between

Antony’s actions and the author’s own famous history. During his annus mirabilis,

99 Spurious letters were not unusual occurrences. At various occasions, Cicero viewed with suspicion letters supposedly from Brutus (Ad Brut. 2.5.4 = SB 5), Caesar (Att. 11.16.1 = SB 227), and Publilia (Att. 12.32.2 = SB 271). See Nicholson (1994: 43) and White (2010: 66-67) for a discussion of possible counterfeit letters and security precautions against such forgeries. In addition, on one occasion, Cicero chose to deny the authenticity of a leaked draft of his own speech since it was politically convenient to do so (Att. 3.12.2 = SB 57). 100 Antony was believed to have received help from the Sicilian rhetorician Sextus Clodius. Later on in the speech, Cicero makes this clear: at quanta merces rhetori data est! Audite, audite, patres conscripti, et cognoscite rei publicae vulnera. duo milia iugerum campi Leontini Sex. Clodio rhetori adsignasti, et quidem immunia, ut populi Romani tanta mercede nihil sapere disceres (2.43). On Sextus Clodius, see also Suet. Rhet. 5.

Cicero had produced the autographed letters of Catilina’s co-conspirators before the

Senate in an act that exposed the nascent uprising.101 This sardonic appraisal of Antony’s oratorical tactics is a rather clever gambit on Cicero’s part since it allows him to assume the role of orator par excellence to Antony’s wayward pupil, while converting proof of his own alleged duplicity into evidence of Antony’s folly (nihil sapere). Nonetheless, although Cicero’s scorn may succeed in deflecting attention, it ultimately does little to confront Antony’s original charge in any substantive way. Or does it?

If we understand handwriting in this society as indicative of the closeness of a relationship, Cicero’s ridicule of Antony the orator seems to leave implicit and unstated a rather significant insinuation, which would do much to refute Antony’s claims. Cicero did not personally write this letter; he dictated it to a slave (sunt enim librarii manu).102

This detail concerning the letter’s mode of production should subtly subvert much of the force of Antony’s claims regarding Cicero’s litterae among the Roman elite.103 To use decidedly modern terminology, Cicero appears to have exploited the material semiotics of the epistle in order to ‘unfriend’ Antony, or (perhaps more exactly) to decline a ‘friend request’ from Antony.104 In fact, this detail concerning the epistle’s material form should have had the effect of rewriting the entire history of this epistolary transaction between

Cicero and Antony, in Cicero’s favor. Although Cicero may have written to Antony in polite fashion since he conducted this epistolary transaction under the pretense that the

101 Cic. Cat. 3.9-12. Butler (2002: 92-102) provides an account of the importance of this episode for Cicero’s reputation as a master of textual discourse. In addition, I discuss this episode in depth in chapter four. 102 On librarii, see Horsfall (1995: 52-53). 103 Butler (2002: 119) and Druckenmiller (2007) both see this as the purpose of this remark. 104 This use of the language of social media is not meant to be entirely facetious. The rather nebulous concept of a ‘Facebook friend’ tracks more closely to the Latin familaris than any other English term.

recipient was a genuine aristocrat, a bonus vir,105 one should beware of over-reading these aristocratic platitudes. Cicero’s language may have been effusive and affectionate

(and could potentially be interpreted as Antony suggests); nonetheless, the scribal method of production of the letter itself qualified a priori ‘what it said,’ since the letter’s language should be read with and within its bibliographic context (librarii manu), which nuances this interaction and the entire relationship. Although Antony and Cicero may be amici (a rather expansive term in itself),106 the sum total of Cicero’s actions does little to suggest any true closeness between the correspondents. On the contrary, a close reading of this letter – that is, when the letter’s language and material form are read together – actually suggests standoffishness on Cicero’s part towards Antony. As a result, Cicero’s ensuing enmity towards Antony should not be regarded as a betrayal of their relationship.

It is important to emphasize that this attempt to undercut the linguistic content

(the language) of this letter via the bibliographic (the handwriting) is not a novel stratagem that Cicero devised post hoc in order to reinterpret an embarrassing epistle. In actuality, Cicero’s gesture to the epistula’s mode of production (and thus to its material semiotics) is a much-needed revision of Antony’s presentation of Cicero’s epistle, given that Antony’s public recitation of this letter had the effect of transforming this social transaction on paper into an exclusively linguistic event. Yet we often find evidence in the Letters that the circumstances of an epistle’s production were central to interpreting the content of the letter. Cicero flags snippets of information contained within certain

105 So Cicero stipulates later on: scribam tamquam ad civem, tamquam ad bonum virum, non tamquam ad sceleratum et latronem (2.9). 106 Amicitia could be a hollow term and may constitute nothing more than basic courtesy and the avoidance of outright hostilities, as Brunt (1988) noted in his article on Roman friendship in this era. He draws this conclusion partly by reference to this passage. For a slightly different view of amicitia, see Konstan (1997: 122-147).

letters due to the appearance of the author’s hand in an otherwise dictated letter,107 an action which implies that the contents of these autograph segments are somehow more significant since the author personally composed them. On other occasions, correspondents interpret often messy handwriting for medical or ethical implications.108

Indeed, the very association of a holograph with amicitia, as well as the other implications handwriting could possess, strongly suggests a political and social dimension to the paleography of this era.109 Similarly, Cicero’s gesture to his epistle’s mode of production in the second Philippic seems meant to remind his audience that there are multiple semiotic dimensions to any letter and, if the semiotics of Cicero’s epistula in question are properly interpreted, Cicero has made a declaration about his relationship with Antony: we weren’t that close.

Nevertheless, I believe that we would be underselling the meaning of handwriting in this society if we suppose that the sole purpose of Cicero’s allusion to chirographum was to ‘unfriend’ Antony and thereby nuance the linguistic content of this epistle.

Indeed, if this becomes the exclusive rationale for Cicero’s reference to the epistula’s mode of production, several unsettling questions remain unanswered regarding the behavior of both parties in this episode. For example, if handwriting was such an important semiotic marker within Roman elite correspondence, how could Cicero have sent such a casual response without risking seeming impolite or, worse, disrespectful?

Butler goes so far as to suggest that Cicero is lying about the mode of production for this

107 Fam. 2.8.3 = SB 80 and Att. 8.1.1 = SB 151; see White (2010: 65) for further discussion. 108 White (2010: 65). For medical implications, cf. Att. 6.9.1 = SB 123 and Fam. 16.15.2 = SB 426 and for ethical, cf. Q.fr. 2.15.1 = SB 19; for a discussion of the last reference, see Jenkins (2006: 49). 109 There are only a few Latin letters that survive from the first century BC (P.Oxy. 44 3208, P. Berol. 13956, and P.Vindob.lat.1b) and the split between capitals and cursive, which characterizes much of the sociology of Roman paleography, seems not yet to be in sharp relief; however, by the time of Augustus, most letters and other documents were written in old Roman cursive. Cf. Bischoff (1990: 55-63) for discussion.

letter since he cannot imagine Cicero sending a non-autographed letter, given the potential insult such a letter could imply.110 Indeed, Cicero does display great concern in his narration of this affair regarding the discharge of socially acceptable behavior. Cicero takes care to specify that his own behavior (at least, linguistically) was unimpeachable: quod enim verbum in istis litteris est non plenum humanitatis, officii, benivolentiae

(2.9);111 that is, every word of Cicero’s letter was in line with the proper sense of humanitas. Yet even if Cicero’s verbal performance was well within the parameters of socially acceptable conduct for an aristocrat, what about his bibliographic duties as a

Roman ‘gentleman?’ Was Cicero’s dictated reply to Antony not somewhat lacking in humanitas, given that this gesture essentially flaunts their social estrangement? On a related note, should it not seem strange that Antony does not seem to recognize Cicero’s bibliographic slight?112 Moreover, why does he employ this letter as a sign of Cicero’s betrayal of their friendship, when the material epistle was actually proof of their lack of closeness?

These reservations regarding Antony and Cicero’s conduct appear troublesome, however, because they rest on a presumption that the only function of epistolary paleography is to demarcate a true friend from a mere acquaintance. The mode of production for an epistula accomplishes that goal, but I would contend that it only creates that distinction as part of its larger operation of producing various categories of discourse within epistolography. There were many types of correspondence in the Roman world:

110 Butler (2002: 119); see also Druckenmiller (2007) who finds Cicero’s failure to write sua manu similarly problematic. 111 The use of litterae to qualify what was “properly done” strongly suggests that Cicero is specifying the linguistic contents of the letter since litterae typically refers to the epistle’s verbal message and epistula refers to the letter as physical object. See L. Gavoille (2002) for an examination of the differing semantics of these words. 112 Antony does seem to have been quite capable of manipulating epistolary, aristocratic language to his advantage; see Hall’s (2009: 87-99 and 169-178) analysis of Antony’s language.

personal, political, philosophical, and commercial.113 Nonetheless, such divisions in republican epistolography are difficult to maintain, given that much of Cicero’s correspondence touches on all these topics. Cicero may start an epistula with a discussion of political developments, but move to discoursing on his finances, before finishing with a literary or philosophical digression. In these situations, the mode of production is helpful since it not only can qualify and define particular relationships (i.e. are the correspondents friends?), but also acts more generally as an index of the social status of a textual transaction. In short, a holograph or a dictated epistula could suggest into what category of epistolary discourse the epistolographer envisions the letter falling.

For a letter of such heterogeneous content, scribal labor would indicate that this epistle should be understood as bureaucratic or commercial in nature,114 while, in contrast, the author’s own hand would place the emphasis on the personal relationship between the correspondents. Cicero hints at such material typology on those other occasions that he apologizes for a dictated epistle with the excuse that he has become overwhelmed by business.115 This has, in fact, always been the unstated entailment of the proposition that a holograph classifies the true amicus. The one who receives a dictated epistula, then, must be another type of associate.116 Thus, Cicero feels the need to apologize when he does not send an autographed epistle to a friend.

113 See Bahr (1966: 27 and 32) and Poster (2002) for the economic activities associated with letter-writing. See also Carcopino (1951a: 10) and Guillaumont (2004: 128) on the lack of clear material distinction between letters and books; as example, cf. Q.Fr. 1.1 = SB 1, where Cicero offers Quintus (and many others) his opinions on the precepts of proper governance. This letter straddles the line between treatise and fraternal missive, and generally confuses the distinction. 114 Sirat (2006: 437) notes that Roman epistolographers usually dictated bureaucratic and business correspondence. 115 Cf. Att. 2.23.1 = SB 43, 4.16.1 = SB 89, and Q.fr. 3.3.1 = SB 23. 116 Daybell (2001) has detected a similar system of private versus public (holograph versus dictation) at work in letters written by women in Tudor England.

If we adopt this view of handwriting’s function within Roman epistolary culture,

Cicero’s decision to dictate his reply to Antony appears neither impolite nor disrespectful, but socially appropriate, given how Antony’s original appeal to Cicero regarding Cloelius’ restoration egregiously confuses the distinctions between a private relationship, public business, and a commercial transaction. On this point, Cicero’s initial reaction concerning this request in a letter to Atticus is instructive:

redeo enim ad miseram seu nullam potius rem publicam. M. Antonius ad me scripsit de restitutione Sex. Cloeli; quam honorifice, quod ad me attinet, ex ipsius litteris cognosces (misi enim tibi exemplum); quam dissolute, quam turpiter quamque ita perniciose ut non numquam Caesar desiderandus esse videatur facile existimabis. quae enim Caesar numquam neque fecisset neque passus esset, ea nunc ex falsis eius commentariis proferuntur. (Att. 14.13.6 = SB 367)

I return to the miserable, or rather the non-existent civic affairs. Antony wrote to me about the recall of Sextus Cloelius. In what a complimentary manner, as far as it concerns me (you may see from his letter; for I am sending you a copy). But how unscrupulously, disgracefully, and ruinously, so that sometimes it makes one wish for Caesar back, you will easily appreciate. For measures that Caesar would never have taken or sanctioned are now produced from his forged notes.

While Cicero does concede that Antony wrote in an appropriate enough register (quam honorifice), he quickly qualifies that statement (quod ad me attinet) since he finds the contents extremely distasteful (quam dissolute, quam turpiter quamque ita perniciose).

This dichotomous response is intimately connected with the post-Ides of March political environment, where the tyrant may have been justly assassinated, even as the acts of the dictator remained paradoxically valid. In this situation, Antony proceeded to exploit

Caesar’s documents (or simply forge them at a price) in order to pass laws.117 Sextus

Cloelius’s return was one of those acts that rested on Caesar’s supposed chirographum.118

117 On this situation, see Ramsey (1994) and Butler (2002: 103). 118 The line between commentarius and a chirographum is not clear; see Ramsey (1994: 133 n.11). Cicero seems often to conflate them; cf. Fam. 12.1.2 = SB 327: cuius aera refigere debebamus, eius etiam chirographa defendimus? “at enim ita decrevimus.”

Cicero’s opinion was that these documents regarding Cloelius were forged.119 From

Cicero’s perspective, then, Antony has employed a private letter to request a personal favor – a petition which (in Cicero’s mind) is entirely based upon a specious form of public textuality (Caesar’s forged commentarii) – in order to line his own pockets with money from a bribe. To put it another way, what Antony had phrased as a personal request, Cicero sees as a commercial transaction thinly disguised as a personal favor and further conflated with governmental business.120 Hence, Cicero’s preface that he was returning to the topic of public affairs (ad miseram seu nullam potius rem publicam), or at least what passes for public affairs, is proleptic. After all, it is Antony’s conflation of private financial advantage with the public good that Cicero sees as ruinous to the res publica. Moreover, Cicero’s resort to dictation in his reply becomes a potentially provocative gesture, given that the mode of textual production for business and government affairs was dictation. By the material form of his reply, Cicero is shifting the interpretive horizon for their textual transaction, and thereby acknowledging the true motivation and rationale behind Antony’s request – denarii.

Moreover, the manner of Cicero’s allusion to the letter’s mode of production serves to expose Antony’s mercantile (and very un-aristocratic) orientation towards society, which is (as far as Cicero is concerned) the root cause of Antony’s transgression and his inability to perceive any distinction between the public and private spheres. At the moment of revelation regarding “the hand of the scribe,” Cicero challenges the rhetorical Antony provocatively: quo me teste convincas? an chirographo? in quo habes

119 See also Antony’s original request: non contendam ego adversus te, quamquam videor debere tueri commentarium Caesaris (Att. 14.13a.2 = SB 367a). 120 See Cicero on Antony’s request concerning Cloelius’ restoration: verum tamen quid erat, quod me rogares, si erat is, de quo rogabas, Caesaris lege reductus? sed videlicet meam gratiam voluit esse, in quo ne ipsius quidem ulla esse poterat lege lata (Phil. 2.11).

scientiam quaestuosam. Cicero’s use of chirographum to designate the epistle’s script seems highly calculated given that this word functions as a floating signifier in this situation. Chirographum can refer to various textual forms: simple handwriting by itself;121 a species of bureaucratic texts;122 or a type of document requiring a signature as acknowledgment of the debt.123 Cicero allows chirographum to run the semantic gamut in this situation. Initially, we are led to believe that chirographum refers simply to

‘handwriting’ per se – explicitly, as a piece of evidence within a logical argument124 and implicitly, as proof of the level of intimacy in a friendship. Yet Cicero’s subsequent remark concerning Antony’s scientia quaestuosa shifts the reader’s interpretation of what

‘chirographum’ means towards Caesar’s forged documents. In addition, I would suggest that Cicero’s specification that Antony’s knowledge is “profitable” seems designed to activate the more commercial aspects of chirographum (as a debt bond) since Antony treats Caesar’s handwriting as ultimately redeemable for cash. In sum, what Cicero is insinuating by means of this floating signifier is that Antony is incapable of construing material semiotics as possessing anything but a monetary value. Thus, Cicero suggests that Antony cannot help but fail to understand his reduction of their transaction from personal to commercial (a shift from a private to a more public type of correspondence) via the absence of Cicero’s autograph since such a gesture is laden with social significance, but without economic value.

121 The TLL qualifies this manifestation of chirographum as quod nostra manu scripsimus; examples from Cicero’s corpus include Brut. 277, Att. 2.20.5 = SB 40, and Fam. 2.13.2 = SB 93. 122 For Caesar’s chirographa within his post-mortem archive, see Phil.1.16 and 2.17. 123 As example, the TLL gives Fam. 7.18.1 = SB 37, which is a complex passage to be discussed in section III. 124 See Cicero’s subsequent remark: quid enim est minus non dico oratoris, sed hominis quam id obicere adversario, quod ille si verbo negarit, longius progredi non possit, qui obiecerit? (Phil. 2.9).

Indeed, what thematically unites Cicero’s entire critique of Antony’s conduct in this epistolary scandal is this inability to observe a distinction between public and private forms of discourse. Antony crassly monetized private affairs (like his relationship with

Cicero) and governmental matters (like Caesar’s archive), just as if these were commercial transactions, in his restoration of Cloelius. Then, after open hostility broke out between the two politicians, Antony put up for public exhibition Cicero’s letter of acquiescence regarding this restoration. However, since the observance of this partition is considered (at least, in Cicero’s estimation) the mark of an aristocrat (that is, proof of the humanitas of a bonus vir), Cicero can exploit Antony’s transgressions as a political

“wedge issue” to detach Antony from the aristocratic mainstream.125 Thus, Cicero gladly stipulates the epistle’s authenticity in order to flaunt its mode of production. Cicero presents Antony’s recitation of this letter as further proof of his estrangement from the aristocracy, since he presents a mere dictated letter as proof of Cicero’s previous affection and present perfidy. Yet this letter proves no such thing. By its mode of production, this epistula actually testifies to Cicero’s detachment towards Antony and his view that Antony’s request was founded upon economic motivations rather than personal attachment. Antony’s original request and his attempted exploitation of Cicero’s reply, then, become complementary examples of Antony’s inability to internalize those habits and practices (in this case, textual and oratorical) which define the aristocrat.

In Cicero’s rhetoric, Antony’s mercantile disposition is the organizing principle of his life, the cause of his neglect of these aristocratic codes, and the reason that he engages in such gauche behavior. Cicero presents the reduction of everything into a discrete unit of economic value as a systemic problem for Antony. A good speech can be bought,

125 Cf. Pitcher (2008), who reads this entire oratio as an attack on Antony’s membership in the elite.

while Caesar’s autograph can fetch high value on the open market. Yet this mercantile orientation towards life can create blind spots in Antony’s vision. A case in point (in

Cicero’s narrative at any rate) is Antony’s inability to understand that Cicero’s autograph, or lack thereof, can have a non-economic meaning – especially when Caesar’s autograph has a very explicit and lucrative economic value attached to it. Fundamentally, it is this economism that divorces Antony from the aristocratic community. Antony fails to realize that aristocrats may be rich, but they do not organize their lives around their own financial self-advantage. Certain codes of conduct and social responsibilities must be obeyed, which foreclose acting in such a self-advantageous manner. Therefore, to act otherwise – to conduct all actions with an explicit view towards one’s self-interest, economic or otherwise – is in Cicero’s calculation to act contrary to aristocratic mores; that is to say, to live contrary to the precepts of humanitas. As we shall see, this does not mean that an aristocrat could not seek to enrich himself; however, he could only do so if certain codes of conduct were observed which enabled him to pretend and possibly to believe that material reward was never the purpose of the exercise, but a happy byproduct of a relationship or social transaction.

For our present purposes, however, what is most interesting is Cicero’s suggestion that the presence or absence of the author’s hand within a text is one of the key means by which different classes of discourse within epistolography are produced. By dictating his reply, Cicero specifies that this social and textual transaction (Antony’s request concerning Cloelius’ restoration) is motivated more by commercial interests on Antony’s part than by any supposed personal connection between the two of them. An autographed letter, then, does signify amicitia between correspondents, but this

signification is a byproduct of epistolary handwriting’s ideological ideal, to construct a division between personal correspondence and commercial/governmental textual communications. Nonetheless, if we have teased out all the implications possible from this passage concerning the meaning of handwriting for Cicero’s social set, we are still left with one dangling thread. What Cicero never makes explicit is exactly why members of the Republican aristocracy had such an investment in avoiding this crosspollination of discourses. There would have been much overlap between private and public

(commercial or governmental) discourse in Roman society, or in any society, for that matter. Accordingly, why should there be any unease amongst the Roman elite when textual practices associated with public business overlap with those practices of private discourse? For this answer, we must turn to Cicero’s correspondence with his friend,

Trebatius.

II Trebatius’ Shame

In 54 BC Cicero recommended to Caesar his friend, Gaius Trebatius Testa, for an appointment in Gaul as a man probior, melior, prudentior, with singulari memoria and summa scientia (Fam. 7.5.3 = SB 26). Trebatius’ scientia was his legal expertise, for which he has achieved a lasting posthumous fame separate from his inclusion in collections of epistles.126 Cicero would later describe this endorsement of Trebatius as a commendatio singularis with good reason.127 The letter was strikingly familiar in tone and a stark departure from the typically staid and formulaic letter of recommendation.128

126 Besides Cicero’s Letters and Horace’s Sermones (2.1), Trebatius appears as a legal authority in Justinian’s Institutiones (2.25). 127 Fam. 7.7.2 = SB 28: Imperatorem liberalissimum, aetatem opportunissimam, commendationem certe singularem habes, ut tibi unum timendum sit, ne ipse tibi defuisse videare. See also Fam.7.6.1 = SB 27. 128 E.g. the letter begins rather abruptly with an imperative: vide, quam mihi persuaserim te me esse alterum non modo in iis rebus, quae ad me ipsum, sed etiam in iis, quae ad meos pertinent (Fam. 7. 5.1 = SB 26). Lossman (1962: 24-33) devotes significant attention to the unusual nature of this commendatio.

The time and effort that Cicero expended to create a unique commendatio would have been a strong endorsement of Trebatius’ potential;129 however, the artful casualness of this letter also reflects the delicate nature of Cicero’s relationship with Caesar.130 In many ways, this commendatio had just as much to do with Caesar and Cicero’s relationship as it did with Trebatius’ future. Trebatius may have been worthy of a commendatio singularis, but the discharge of this officium also furnished Cicero and

Caesar with a social space within which these two senators could negotiate their relationship and publicly display their mutual benevolentia via the commendatus,

Trebatius.131 Thus, we shall see that Cicero takes a special interest in Trebatius’ reception by Caesar and Trebatius’ behavior in Gaul in order to ensure that his protégé lives up to this commendatio singularis and receives all the benefits to which this reference should entitle him.132

The epistolary relationship between Trebatius and Cicero (at least, as we have it)133 is beset by implied violations in the etiquette of this medium.134 Most often these violations take the form of an accusation of failure to write;135 however, in one letter

Letters of recommendation are usually characterized by their formality and stereotyped formulas and thus departures from form are usually significant; cf. Cotton (1985). 129 Cotton (1984: 419). 130On the carefully constructed rhetoric of epistolary familiarity, see Henderson (2007). 131 Lossman (1962: 56-59) and Leach (2006: 255). See Wilcox also (2002: 89-134) for how commendationes help to triangulate the relationship between sender and recipient via the intermediary of the person recommended. 132 The young/old dialectic probably also contributes to Cicero’s avuncular attitude towards the younger Trebatius; on this dialectic in the Letters, see Leach (2006). 133 On these letters as edited collections and not transparent reflections of the correspondence, see Beard (2002) and White (2010: 31-62). 134 I am only examining Cicero’s letters to Trebatius from Trebatius’ tenure in Gaul (Fam. 7.6-18) and I am avoiding the tetralogy of letters from 44 BC (Fam. 7.19-22), since there is such a temporal gulf between them. 135 Fam. 7.9.1 = SB 30, 7.12.1 = SB 35, and 7.14.1 = SB 38.

Cicero devotes considerable textual space to critiquing Trebatius’ writing practices.136

Cicero assesses:

Sed, ut ad epistulas tuas redeam, cetera belle; illud miror: quis solet eodem exemplo plures dare, qui sua manu scribit? nam, quod in palimpsesto, laudo equidem parismoniam; sed miror, quid in illa chartula fuerit, quod delere malueris quam haec scribere, nisi forte tuas formulas; non enim puto te meas epistulas delere, ut reponas tuas. An hoc significas, nihil fieri, frigere te, ne chartam quidem tibi suppeditare? iam ista tua culpa est, qui verecundiam tecum extuleris et non hic nobiscum reliqueris. (Fam. 7.18.2 = SB 37)

But to return to your letters, everything else was prettily done, but I do wonder at this: who is accustomed to send out multiple copies from the same exemplar, when he writes them with his own hand? For the fact that it was on a palimpsest, I commend your economy. However, I do wonder what it was that you preferred to erase on that piece of paper rather than not to write these things – unless perhaps your legal formulas. Of course, I don't think you erased my letters in order to replace them with your own. By that, are you indicating that nothing’s going on, that you are cold, that you’re out of papyrus? Well, that is entirely your own fault since you took your sense of what is appropriate in polite society with you and did not leave it behind here with us.

Trebatius has committed two bibliographic sins in Cicero’s eyes. First, he personally wrote (sua manu) multiples of a letter based on an exemplar. It is unclear whether this accusation is predicated on Trebatius making and sending to Cicero duplicate copies of the same letter or if Trebatius wrote multiple letters to Cicero with nearly identical wording.137 Mentions of both practices occur in Cicero’s Letters, with the former being occasionally used in order to ensure a message’s arrival138 and the latter being socially problematic.139 Trebatius’ second sin is using a palimpsest as medium for a letter to

136 97 out of 310 words: approximately one third of the letter. 137 T.-P, SB, and Büchner (1947: 1207) believe that Trebatius’ sin was not varying the content of his letters from Gaul and suggest that Cicero is teasing Trebatius on this point. 138 E.g. Fam. 11.11.1 = SB 386 and 10.33.3 = SB 409. As in Trebatius’ case, these letters were dispatched over a great distance (from Northern Italy and Spain, respectively). For a discussion of this practice, see Nicholson (1994: 54-55). 139 See Cicero’s complaint to Sulpicius Rufus regarding the use of this practice (Fam. 4.4.1 = SB 203).

Cicero.140 Although Cicero tentatively posits (forte) that what was on papyrus previously was Trebatius’ legal handwork, the praeteritio by a master rhetorician (non enim puto te meas epistulas delere) suggests that Cicero’s true concern is the possible erasure of his own epistula to make way for Trebatius’ message (ut reponas tuas). By Cicero’s reasoning, both these actions by Trebatius are problematic, but before we can understand why these practices are faulty, it is necessary to examine first just how Cicero frames this textual performance and to realize the level of importance that Cicero places upon the proper performance of such practices.

Cicero starts by belaboring the point to Trebatius that textual practices were a social performance that could reflect well or poorly upon the practitioner. He takes care at the start of this critique to indicate that the other elements in Trebatius’ letters are without fault (cetera belle). Krostenko’s research on words like bellus makes it clear that this word is carefully chosen in this situation since bellus, as a word of social performance, indicates proper adherence to social and aesthetic values.141 Moreover, bellus typically redounds to the favor of the verb’s agent.142 Presumably, the ellipsis in this sentence has a sentiment akin to tibi cetera belle fuerunt or fecisti cetera belle.

Moreover, Cicero’s preface to this section of the letter (ut ad epistulas tuas redeam) demonstrates that these proper aesthetic values are related to the physicality of the letter since epistula is usually used to designate the letter as object, while litterae is used to

140 Hutchinson (1998: 183) takes the view that Trebatius had “inadvertently” sent the rough draft of the letter to Cicero, instead of the fair version. Although theoretically possible, I find it difficult to see any support for this view within the text. 141 See Krostenko (2001: 51-59) for a discussion of bellus; on bell(us)’ use for shared aesthetic values, cf. Krostenko (2001: 58). 142 Krostenko (2001: 52) compares this valence to bene (facere), which implies that ‘what went well’ was directed towards the recipient, not the agent.

specify the letter as linguistic message.143 Cicero thus begins this topic by indicating his desire to discuss how the material aspects of this letter reflect upon Trebatius as a social actor.

Furthermore, the extent of Cicero’s anxiety over Trebatius’ action is strongly suggested by the rhetorical lengths to which Cicero goes to correct Trebatius’ behavior without explicitly stating the magnitude of this faux pas. In Hall’s parlance, Cicero conducts much ‘redressive facework’ in order to correct Trebatius’ behavior without offering too much insult to his dignitas.144 Thus, after introducing the parameters of his subject, Cicero tactfully prefaces both critiques with notes of bemused puzzlement (illud miror…miror) and embeds his concern (non enim puto te meas epistulas delere) within the confines of a teasing joke (nisi forte tuas formulas).145 Cicero then offers multiple possible and justifiable explanations for such behavior: you are thrifty, a praiseworthy trait (laudo equidem parismoniam);146 perhaps there is no supply of papyrus (ne chartam quidem tibi suppeditare);147 or perhaps you are cold (frigere te).148 Each of these rationales is plausible and serve the purpose of allowing Trebatius to save face, since – after supplying Trebatius with multiple, reasonable excuses – Cicero somewhat brusquely declares that Trebatius’ behaviour is still wholly faulty, notwithstanding these excuses

(iam ista tua culpa est, qui verecundiam tecum extuleris et non hic nobiscum reliqueris).

143 L. Gavoille (2002). 144 Hall (2009: 14-15). 145 Cf. Hutchinson (1998: 179-187) on this joke and other moments of humor in this letter; however, since his purpose is a literary, philological reading of the Letters, Hutchinson tends to elide social logistics from his analysis. See also Haury (1955: 166) for an analysis of Cicero’s use of humor to soften criticism of Trebatius in Fam. 7.14 = SB 38 and Stolte (2005) for the possible legal pun underlying tuas formulas. 146 Hutchinson (1998: 184) terms this phrase “a mock-insult for meanness in the sober garb of tactful praise.” 147 Cf. Att. 4.4.1 = SB 76, where Cicero supplies Atticus with papyrus during a shortage. 148 What this line means is unclear. Ad loc T.-P. suggests as translation: “you have nothing to do.” Leach (2006: 247-248) suggests that this phrase refers to the political climate. Interestingly, she also believes that Horace alludes to this phrase (among others) in Sermo 2.1, which is addressed to Trebatius: “O puer [sc. Horace], ut sis vitalis metuo, et maiorum ne quis amicus frigore te feriat” (60–62).

At this juncture after so much polite social fiction, Cicero reveals himself to be less concerned with any explanation or excuse for this behavior than he is with simply eradicating any future instances of these practices.

To my mind, Cicero’s reference to Trebatius’ verecundia (which Cicero reminds

Trebatius that he brought with him to Gaul) is the key element in this entire passage since it gets to the heart of the threat which Trebatius’ improper textual practices pose to him and the larger society. What we need to remember is the role that concepts like verecundia play in fostering social order. Verecundia is typically translated into English as something like ‘modesty’ or ‘shame,’149 words that are not particularly illuminating since they are designed not to clarify, but to obfuscate the subjectivity of social norms.

Verecundia functions in an analogous fashion since possession of this social value

“animates the art of knowing your proper place in every social transaction and basing your behavior on that knowledge.”150 Hence, verecundia is the closest equivalent to

English’s ‘politeness.’151 Consequently, one’s ability to adhere publicly to the unwritten rules of society becomes a prime means of demonstrating oneself as “a well-socialized person” 152 since this adherence constitutes a public display of verecundia.

Unsurprisingly, we often find verecundia (and the related term, pudor) invoked in commendationes since this concept of social self-restraint helps to structure and safeguard these delicate negotiations, 153 where the recommender’s standing can be

149 E.g. L&S’ prime definition confines this term within a moral paradigm: “the natural feeling of shame.” Cf. OLD 4 and 5, “a sense of shame,” which is differentiated based on whether such “shame” is directed towards one’s own behavior or another’s (4 and 5). 150 Kaster (2005: 15); for a fuller discussion of verecundia, cf. Kaster (2005: 13-27). 151 Hall (2009: 8-13). 152 Ibid. 153 Cotton (1981: 51 n. 257). For examples, see Fam. 2.6.2 = SB 50, 13.2.1 = SB 314, 13.17.3 = SB 283, and Q.fr. 3.1.10 = SB 21.

threatened and the addressee’s autonomy impinged on.154 I belabor the point because only a thorough understanding of verecundia allows us to fully understand the grave importance of Trebatius’ textual transgressions. Cicero has been sensitive in broaching the subject of Trebatius’ textual performance because it directly addresses his perception within the larger aristocratic society. For Trebatius (as with Antony), textual practices became indicative of one’s standing within the aristocratic community.

Trebatius’ textual performance erred in two fashions with regard to these social norms. First, Cicero suggests that such mechanical copying or redundant composition on

Trebatius’ part veers precariously close to the type of work that properly belongs to a slave.155 He worries that Trebatius has shown too much deference since he inscribes epistles by hand in a socially uncalled-for situation, and this action makes his act of deference seem dangerously akin to menial labor, something which is unbecoming of the social station for which Trebatius aims. The second social transgression is more complex, but perhaps more threatening. Trebatius has erased something (possibly legal formulae or perhaps even Cicero’s previous letter) in order to write his own missive.156

From a practical perspective, Trebatius’ actions make perfect sense: he has simply treated a papyrus letter (chartula) like a wax tablet (codicilli). Wax tablets were a popular method of epistolary discourse, since they allowed for immediate response. One simply unfolded the leaves of the tablet, read the message, erased the message, wrote a new message, and then sent the messenger back immediately with a reply.157 In view of their

154 Cotton (1986) and Hall (2009: 107-134). 155 Richards (2004: 157 n.4) and Jenkins (2006: 46-47). 156 Stolte (2005: 320) is probably right in thinking that there is some legal joke in formulae, which is unrecoverable. 157 E.g. Fam. 6.18.1 = SB 218: simulatque accepi a Seleuco tuo litteras, statim quaesivi e Balbo per codicillos, quid esset in lege: rescripsit eos, qui facerent praeconium, vetari esse in decurionibus, qui fecissent, non vetari.

ease and convenience, codicilli were often used in business transactions.158 Trebatius, then, is simply employing this chartula as if it were codicilli – an action that is an unfortunate error for a person supposedly “well socialized.”

The parallel with Antony’s faulty textual practices is obvious: Trebatius risks collapsing the distinction between public and private discourse since his treatment of the medium would reflect a belief that Cicero is a business associate and not a personal friend. Moreover, his duplication of the letter to Cicero (if we understand it in that way) could also have the inherent possibility of allowing the letter’s mode of production to be construed as dictation, particularly if the addressee is not as familiar with the sender’s handwriting as Cicero apparently is. From this perspective, Cicero’s critique of

Trebatius’ writing practices is similar in social logic to his attack on Antony’s amalgamation of a variety of textual practices. Both men misread which practices typify the private aristocrat in correspondence with a fellow member of the elite and which characterize a business relationship. Both men fail to understand that handwriting always provides proof of two types of inscriptions: the individual might etch out letters on a page with the aid of a writing instrument, but this very act reveals society’s inscription upon the individual.159 Both Trebatius and Antony demonstrate that they have not fully internalized the codes of conduct for aristocratic communication via epistles; however, these situations differ in that, while Cicero seeks to socialize Trebatius in this sort of

158 Guillaumont (2004: 130) and Butler (2011: 66-67). Meyer (2004) explores the cultural reasons for the use of wax-tablets in business dealings. I add my own contribution to this debate in chapter four. 159 Goldberg (1990: 234): “the signature has its origins not in the writer but in the script that re-marks the writer within its socially differentiated and discriminatory strata.” As Goldberg (1990) demonstrates, learning to write constitutes a complex indoctrination into the ideology of a society.

“letteracy,” 160 Cicero attempted to expose and humble Antony for his lack of socialization in this aristocratic practice. What these passages expose again is that the material condition of a letter – particularly its mode of production – is a social and political act open to scrutiny (that is, judgment and correction) by one’s peers.

Proper performance of such a social script was of great consequence, since any failure could result in social rebuke – whether this entailed outright attack (as in Antony’s case) or possible withdrawal of support, as Cicero seems to imply in Trebatius’ case. For example, Cicero first mentions that he will renew his recommendation of Trebatius “in time” (ego enim renovabo commendationem, sed tempore [Fam. 7.18.1]) in the section directly preceding his critique of Trebatius’ writing practices. In a manner reminiscent of ring composition, Cicero returns to this topic in the sentence immediately subsequent to his critique of Trebatius’ bibliographic practices: ego te Balbo, cum ad vos proficiscetur, more Romano commendabo (7.18.3). I would suggest that it is no coincidence that

Cicero’s critique of Trebatius’ verecundia is surrounded by references to future recommendations – it is an implicit threat. It is important to recall that Cicero’s recommendation of Trebatius to Caesar was not only for his legal knowledge, but also for his outstanding disposition (probior, melior, pudentior). However, Trebatius’ disappointment with his Gallic appointment and subsequent complaints and comportment have led Cicero to imply (videbare) that Trebatius was acting rather shamelessly

(subimpudens).161 There is, of course, a connection between verecundia and pudor.

160 I borrow this portmanteau from Bannet (2005: xvii). See Poster (2002: 123-124) for the differing levels of “letteracy” in antiquity; in regards to Trebatius’ and Antony’s failings, I am referring to elite level letteracy. 161 Nam primorum mensum litteris tuis vehementer commovebar, quod mihi interdum—pace tua dixerim— levis in urbis urbanitatisque desiderio, interdum piger, interdum timidus in labore militari, saepe autem etiam, quod a te alienissimum est, subimpudens videbare (Fam. 7.17.1 = SB 31).

Both lexemes suggest a social performance by an individual that is conducted in such a way as to avoid drawing negative attention to oneself.162 Cicero implies that Trebatius is doing the opposite and his conduct is problematic for Cicero since, as I contend, Cicero had earlier recommended Trebatius to Caesar not only as a legal expert, but also as “one of us” – that is, as a “well socialized individual.” Moreover, part of this “socialization” in Cicero’s judgment comprised the correct performance of textual practices in such a way as to delineate properly public and private forms of discourse (that is, to distinguish personal interests from commercial and governmental ones). Nonetheless, Trebatius’ subsequent behavior, including his textual behavior, threatened Cicero’s and, perhaps more importantly, Caesar’s judgment concerning Trebatius’ socialization. Therefore,

Cicero issues a friendly reminder to Trebatius about his place in the social order and the necessity of showing polite respect to his peers and his superiors (i.e. his elders and betters) in his social interactions (textual and otherwise) with them. Furthermore, he surrounds this prompt with references to future recommendations as a form of motivation.

III Cicero’s Fetish

If Cicero’s treatment of the epistula and practices associated with it are beginning to seem like a fetish on his part, that is because it is to some extent a fetish – in the pre-

Freudian sense of the word. To those of us socialized in a capitalistic ethos, this arrangement of material semiotics within epistolary discourse is perhaps difficult to comprehend since capitalistic ideology, “in fetishizing the commodity, fails to fetishize

162 For the similarity and subtle differences, cf. Kaster (2005 61-65).

the object.”163 Although we live in a so-called ‘materialist’ society, it is the commodity and not the object that is valued, or “fetishized,” with its “neutral exchanges of money.”164 In order for us “to restore ‘true’ fetishism,” in the Marxist sense of the word as drawn from nineteenth-century philosophy and anthropology, we would need “to value the labor which is absorbed into the object and the labor which we expend in the touching, handling, and remaking of the object” and realize that objects “bound people in networks of obligation.”165 If each object were to become uniquely valued for the individual labor and care involved in its production (instead of homogenizing it as a species of object by commoditizing it according to a standard value), each object would then become unique and require a unique repayment.166 To put it another way, the object would be considered (by cultural consensus) singular and therefore ‘priceless,’167 and exist outside of the economic sphere. Yet, as Bourdieu reminds us, “economism is a form of ethnocentrism,”168 and this ideology too often obscures the true nature of how these

“fetishized” objects (as I have defined them) circulate. While crass financial calculations might seem to have been purged from this marketplace of ‘priceless’ goods, they have only been transformed and thereby hidden in plain sight. Indeed, with the removal of the superstructure of the overtly financially motivated marketplace, we are left with a symbolic economy.169 The objects that “bound people in networks of obligation” are, in fact, the “aggregate of the actual or potential resources which are linked to possession of

163 Stallybrass’ (1996: 290-291) object of discussion here is Renaissance livery; nevertheless, I believe that the principle is also applicable to letters in the Roman context. 164 Supra. 165 Supra. 166 See Stroup’s (2010: 93-96) discussion of how Cicero’s rhetorical treatises functioned in such a fetishized way. 167 On items removed from the financial economy and singularized, see Kopytoff (1986: 72 and passim) 168 Bourdieu (1990: 112). 169 On the symbolic economy, see Bourdieu (1997: 51-55).

a durable network of more or less institutionalized relationships of mutual acquaintance and recognition,” to quote Bordieu’s formulation of the symbolic economy.170 Moreover, objects in this economy are still ultimately redeemable for economic capital, but only with their traffickers’ insistence (that is, public display) of economic disinterestedness.171

I argue throughout this thesis that epistulae among the Republican aristocracy circulated and operated in an analogous fashion to this symbolic economy – and that we can see this on display in Cicero’s cultural logic.172 In order to appreciate this, however, we must first recognize the importance and ubiquity of slaves in Roman literary life. One recent study has gone so far as to term them the “enabling infrastructure” of the literate class.173 I reiterate this point in order to emphasize the implications of the choice made when a Roman aristocrat chooses to write sua manu. He bypasses a more convenient means of textual production and one that would allow him to discharge a variety of other tasks simultaneously.174 Likewise, since we as a society have become so accustomed to the technological innovation of the ball-point pen, we have a tendency to forget that the process of writing for a Roman would have been a rather arduous one, with the fibers of the papyrus needing to be carefully navigated, and the constant threat of a spilled inkwell.175 To write a holograph, then, was to forsake many of the advantages of your social position (e.g. your scribal slave), to sacrifice precious time, and to devote your

170 Bourdieu (1997: 51). On symbolic capital in general, see Bourdieu (1990: 112-121). 171 Bourdieu (1990: 118) comments: “Symbolic capital is this denied capital, recognized as legitimate, that is, misrecognized as capital (recognition, acknowledgment, in the sense of gratitude aroused by benefits can be one of the foundations of this recognition).” 172 The model of a symbolic economy has proved a popular hermeneutic lens for Roman epistles, particularly for Pliny’s Letters; see Wilcox (2002: 28-88) and White (2010: 89-116) for ways of applying such a model to Cicero. However, none of these studies explore the interaction between the symbolic economy of epistolography and the financial economy. 173 Winsbury (2009: 79-85). 174 Horsfall (1995: 52-54). 175 On the difficulty of writing sua manu, see Richards (2004: 47-55) and Sirat (2006: 402-404).

energies to a single task: the epistula.176 Yet at the same time we must not forget that this act was an inherent demonstration of that social position since, as one scholar aptly phrases it, “[n]obility is the legibility taught in the regime of copying.”177 A Roman aristocrat’s holographs, then, were testaments both to his letteracy and grapho-literacy

(skills which only money and social rank would allow them to obtain) 178 and simultaneously to his forfeiture of other advantages accorded to that rank.

The renunciation of these advantages is key since it provides material evidence that the letter’s contents are the writer’s alone. Dictation is not an exact transcription of an author’s words. Within this mode of production, there would have been many differing levels of involvement open to the ‘author.’ It is likely that any scribe would have subtly (and perhaps even inadvertently) rephrased some of the content when a letter was dictated to him;179 however, in other cases, much of the phrasing would have been the scribe’s own with the sender only giving a brief outline of the message and leaving it to the scribe to flesh out the particulars.180 All these factors need to be calculated into any assessment of the ‘value’ of a letter in the context of the Republican elite. The handwritten letter should, then, be viewed in the symbolic economy of republican epistolography as both a demonstration of the writer’s own social standing, but also (and perhaps more importantly) as evidence of the writer’s devotion and good faith towards the recipient and his material investment in the relationship.

176 Interestingly, Sirat (2006: 77) observes that there are no artistic representations of someone in the act of writing until the third century AD, since this activity was deemed too “low-status” to be worthy of depiction. 177 Goldberg (1990: 113). 178 On this sort of politics of paleography, see Keith (2008) and Cribiore (1996: 148-152). 179 Bahr (1968: 470). See also Halla-aho’s (2000) analysis of the linguistic influence of scribal labor upon the papyrus letters of Claudius Terentianus. 180 E.g. Quintus’ use of scribes and exemplars to conduct business while he served as propraetor of Asia (Q. Fr. 1.2.3 = SB 2). For further discussion of scribal involvement in composition, see Richards (2004: 64- 79) and Bahr (1968: 475-476).

A moment from Cicero’s correspondence with Appius Claudius Pulcher provides an excellent example of how buyers and sellers in this symbolic epistolary economy (like

Cicero) could exploit these epistulae as fetishized objects of obligation for their own ends. After arriving in Cilicia, Cicero exchanged a series of letters with Pulcher, the preceeding governor of the province, in order to arrange a meeting for the handover of power.181 Pulcher resisted meeting Cicero, apparently so that he could continue to fleece the province.182 At this point, Cicero wrote to Pulcher that he had once again rearranged his itinerary due to yet another change in Pulcher’s plans; however, Cicero reemphasizes his desire and commitment to arranging a meeting in a rather interesting way: itaque et consilium mutavi et ad te statim mea manu scriptas litteras misi, quas quidem ex tuis litteris intellexi satis mature ad te esse perlatas (Fam. 3.6.2 = SB 69). Cicero’s reference to fact that he wrote the letters manu sua does several things at once.183 He reframes what Pulcher may have interpreted as an exclusively bureaucratic matter, their meeting, into a personal matter. He also re-emphasizes the personal investment that he has with regard to the contents of these letters. Moreover, Cicero has given some material evidence in support of all the platitudes of mutual respect and affection that clog up the language of aristocratic discourse in letters. Finally, he has also implicitly dared Pulcher to rupture the symbolic economy (i.e. to sever a nodal point within his “durable network”) at his own risk. After all, this letter that Pulcher risks scorning was not the toil of a slave. For Pulcher to ignore the social obligation that Cicero has placed on him by writing sua manu would have consequences. Pulcher could lose the symbolic (and

181 For a discussion of Pulcher and Cicero’s passive aggressive relations in these letters, see Hall (2008: 57- 59 and 139-153). 182 Hall (2008: 140-141). 183 Hall (2008: 141-142) discusses the politics of linguistic politeness in this particular letter, but says nothing about the bibliographic dynamics.

therefore potential, future economic) capital which his relationship with Cicero offered.

Thus, by placing Pulcher in a position where he must either take Cicero’s request seriously and respond in kind or run the gamble of breaching social protocol (and perhaps humanitas), Cicero has exploited in fine fashion the symbolic economy of epistolary relations to his own advantage.

If we return to Cicero and Trebatius’ correspondence, we will find that our new understanding of epistolary discourse among the elite (with its exchanges of handwritten letters as fetishized objects within a symbolic economy) nuances and expands our earlier perception of Cicero’s apprehension about multiple, handwritten versions deriving from the same copy. Although Trebatius apparently understood the need to reciprocate a handwritten letter with a handwritten letter, he has failed to appreciate all the gears at work in this semiotic system. By personally authoring a series of nearly identical letters,

Trebatius has neutered them of much of their ‘singular’ value in this symbolic economy.

Perhaps more dangerously, by performing the role of the slave in copying out identical letters, Trebatius risks commoditizing them, in that these objects could seem to be mechanical facsimiles (a commodified species of object) and not personalized gifts.

Trebatius’ palimpsest presents a similar misunderstanding of this symbolic economy. If I am correct in assuming that Cicero’s praeteritio (non enim puto te meas epistulas delere, ut reponas tuas) indicates his true anxiety, then Trebatius has made an unfortunate statement as to the value which he places upon the previous state of the text vis-à-vis its new state (quid in illa chartula fuerit, quod delere malueris quam haec non scribere). By voicing the approved possibility (nisi forte) that Trebatius may have erased legal formulas and expressing his confidence (enim) that Trebatius did not erase his own letter,

Cicero strongly suggests that the value of each of these types of textuality is far from equivalent. Each species of text has a different worth and the practices surrounding it should accordingly be distinct. A letter existed in an economy of symbolic exchange that placed obligations upon the recipient to respond in kind. In such a way, relationships among the Roman elite were continually partly renewed and solidified through a self- regulating economy of epistolary objects.

Cicero’s (and the aristocracy’s) desire to restrict epistulae within this particular type of symbolic economy is naturally of great import, given the manner in which symbolic economies function vis-à-vis the overt economic sphere. On this very issue of the letter as singular and symbolic artifact (and not a commodified article for trade),

Cicero had already explicitly warned Trebatius six months earlier:

nam primorum mensum litteris tuis vehementer commovebar, quod mihi interdum – pace tua dixerim – levis in urbis urbanitatisque desiderio, interdum piger, interdum timidus in labore militari, saepe autem etiam, quod a te alienissimum est, subimpudens videbare; tamquam enim syngrapham ad imperatorem, non epistulam attulisses, sic pecunia ablata domum redire properabas, nec tibi in mentem veniebat eos ipsos, qui cum syngraphis venissent Alexandream, nummum adhuc nullum auferre potuisse. (Fam. 7.17.1 = SB 31)

For I was strongly affected by your letters from the first months, because in my eyes you were seeming – pardon me saying so – half-hearted at some moments due to your desire for the city and city-life, at others lazy, and sometimes faint- hearted in your military duty; however, often, you seemed somewhat impudent, which is out of character for you. For, just as if you had taken a promissory note to your commander-in-chief, and not a letter, you were hastening to take your money and return home. It was not occurring to you that these very men, who had gone to Alexandria with promissory notes, still have not gained a dime.

Cicero’s comparison of an epistula with a syngrapha seems carefully chosen. A syngrapha was a type of Greek contract that had gained standing in Roman law.184 More

184 Gaius Inst. 3.134.

interestingly, this contract seems to have been written in epistolary form,185 a fact that would fit well with its employment in long distance trade.186 Although the function and use of a syngrapha are not well understood, a syngrapha was more than a ‘bond’ or

“recognition of debt in the form of a contract signed by both parties.”187 Cicero’s own distinction of usura, aes alienum, and syngrapha in his edict as governor of Cilicia clearly suggests that a syngrapha is distinct from a simple debt contract (Att. 6.1.15 = SB

115).188 Unlike simple debt contracts, a syngrapha can in certain circumstances function as a promissory note; that is, in place of cash.189 So Cicero’s comparison would appear appropriate given the many similarities between a syngrapha and an epistula. The former was a legal document (likely in epistolary form), the material embodiment of a legal and commercial agreement between two parties, and vouchsafed by each participant’s signature,190 while the latter was a letter that represented a social contract between participants, renewed and solidified by each participant’s investment of time and energy.

The main difference, however, between these two forms of textuality, at least according to Cicero, is that a syngrapha can be reduced to a fixed economic value, while an epistula remains firmly a symbolic good, which cannot and should not be reduced to a fixed monetary valuation.

185 Exactly what form a syngrapha took in Roman law is unclear; however since a syngrapha and chirographum were virtual synonyms in Roman texts (cf. Asconius Verr. 3.36 and Gaius Inst. 3.124, and also Wolff [1978: 139 n.11]) and a chirographum was written in epistolary form (see Wolff [1978: 106- 114]), it seems likely that a syngrapha used a similar structure. 186 A fragment of Cicero’s speeches suggests this link: pro negotiatoribus Achaeis syngraphas qua nostra voluntate conscripsimus (Nonius 334.IL). See Hollander (2007: 45) for a brief discussion. There is some debate as to whether pro negotiatoribus Achaeis indicates contracts written on behalf of these agents or represents the title of a lost speech of Cicero’s; Crawford (1994: 310-311), after a brief discussion, views the former as more likely. 187 SB ad loc. 188 Cf. Hollander’s (2007: 45) discussion of this edict. 189 Hollander (2007: 45 and 47) points to this passage and Phil. 2.95 for proof of this promissory note’s capacity. 190 Hollander (2007: 45).

Thus, Cicero's warning to Trebatius not to treat this epistula (Trebatius’ commendatio) to a Roman imperator as a syngrapha to an indebted potentate (like

Ptolemy Auletes) is a rather austere statement concerning the division that should exist between the symbolic and commercial economies. Trebatius should not treat his commendatio as a cheque that could be cashed at some sort of Gallic branch of the Bank of Caesar.191 For Trebatius to act in any other fashion suggests something unseemly for an aristocrat. It suggests that Cicero could redeem social capital with Caesar in exchange for economic capital for Trebatius at some sort of fixed rate.192 It suggests (as was the case with Antony) that everything – including social practices – could be reduced to an economic value. This situation is apparently an unacceptable proposition to Cicero, since he terms such a confusion of the discrete symbolic and financial economies the mark of a subimpudens man; that is, a man who does not understand the proper codes of conduct for social interaction.

Nonetheless, Trebatius can be forgiven if he has been slow to pick up on the social necessity of a segregation of the symbolic economy from the commercial.

Multiple times while Trebatius was in Gaul, Cicero expressed to him his high hopes that

Trebatius’ time in Gaul would be advantageous to him or (to phrase it more bluntly)

Cicero expected that Caesar would make Trebatius rich. When Cicero dangled the possibility of a renewed commendatio ‘in time,’ he followed this statement by commenting: sic habeto, non tibi maiori esse curae, ut iste tuus a me discessus quam fructuosissimus tibi sit, quam mihi. At an earlier occasion, Cicero made explicit what he

191 Of course, individuals did go to Caesar for just this reason; see Ioannatou (2006: 124) and White (2003: 70-71) for discussion. 192 Bowditch (2001: 18 and 24) rightly observes that this is Cicero’s true anxiety. See also Fraenkel (1957: 70) on this letter.

meant by fructuosissimus: Balbus mihi confirmavit te divitem futurum; however, he subsequently used humor to give some measure of doubt to this statement: id utrum

Romano more locutus sit, bene nummatum te futurum, an, quomodo Stoici dicunt, omnes esse divites, qui caelo et terra frui possint, postea videro (Fam. 7.16.3 = SB 32).193 It seems unlikely that Caesar’s financial agent meant this in a philosophical way, however.

In addition, Cicero repeatedly uses liberalissimus or liberalitas to refer to Caesar in his letters to Trebatius.194 Both of these terms are common euphemisms for the financial rewards that can result as a byproduct of amicitia with rich individuals.195 While it seems quite clear that Cicero had the expectation that Caesar would “gild” (inaurari)

Trebatius,196 Cicero remained conflicted throughout these letters about this desire, as his digression into a philosophical joke and his rejection of Trebatius’ apparent implicit equivalency between epistula and syngrapha demonstrate. Cicero may have wanted

Trebatius’ appointment to be materially profitable; however, he was reluctant to see his commendatio debased explicitly into economic terms.

Even so, Cicero himself comes dangerously at another point close to collapsing this distinction between symbolic and commercial economies. In the section just prior to

Cicero’s critique of Trebatius’ bibliographic habits, Cicero writes:

Quare perge, ut coepisti; forti animo istam tolera militiam: multa, mihi crede, assequere; ego enim renovabo commendationem, sed tempore. Sic habeto, non tibi maiori esse curae, ut iste tuus a me discessus quam fructuosissimus tibi sit, quam mihi; itaque, quoniam vestrae cautiones infirmae sunt, Graeculam tibi misi cautionem chirographi mei. (Fam. 7.18.1 = SB)

193 On the philosophical underpinning of this iocus, see Griffin (1999: 331-332). 194 Cf. Fam. 7.7.2 = SB 28, 7.8.1 = SB 29, 7.10.3 = SB 33, 7.17.2 = SB 31, and 7.17.3 = SB 31. See also Cicero to Caesar in his letter of recommendation: benevolentiam tuam et liberalitatem peto (Fam. 7.5.3 = SB 26). 195 Verboven (2002: 332 and 334); see also Hellegouarc’h (1963: 215-221). 196 So Cicero jokes: moriar, ni, quae tua gloria est, puto te malle a Caesare consuli quam inaurari (Fam. 7.13.1 = SB 36).

Therefore go on, as you began: endure your service with a stout heart: trust me, the advantages you will gain are many; for I will reiterate my recommendation of you, but in time. Be assured that you are not more anxious that your separation from me should be as profitable as possible to yourself than I am. Accordingly, as your cautiones are weak, I have sent you a Greek cautio, written in my own hand.

There has been much debate as to what exactly these cautiones represent.197 At its core, a cautio was an “obligation assumed as a guaranty for the execution of an already existing obligation.”198 Elmore persuasively argues for Graecula cautio acting as a paraphrase for a syngrapha since it discharged a similar function to the cautio and the diminutive

Graecula implied an opposition between the Roman cautio and its Greek equivalent (a syngrapha was considered proper for aliens to use).199 Such a view, in his opinion, would allow this sentence to have a neat lexical parallelism (cautiones…cautionem), but a semantic antithesis.200 I would also add that this view would allow for a legal pun since a syngrapha and a chirographum were very similar types of legal documents.201 Thus, a

Graecula cautio chirographi mei could be a neat pun on legal redundancy.202 It seems that Cicero employs all this verbal symmetry and legal punning to underline a simple contrast between “two methods of acknowledging an indebtedness, with stipulation and without.” Elmore, reading this passage closely for what Cicero desired for Trebatius’

197 Ad loc. SB thinks that it is something in Greek (possibly a poem) sent along with this letter, while T.-P. think that this cautio refers to the letter itself, which was originally in Greek, but translated into Latin by Tiro for archiving. Jenkins’ (2006: 47) interpretation is bizarre; he translates: “[s]ince your ‘security precautions’ are weak, I have written to you, in my own hand, in a bit of Greek.” 198 S.v. cautio (Berger 1953). See also Elmore (1913: 128). 199 Elmore (1913: 130) uses as proof Gaius Inst. 3.134: praeterea litterarum obligatio fieri videtur chirographis et syngraphis, id est, si quis debere se aut daturum se scribat; ita scilicet si eo nomine stipulatio non fiat. quod genus obligationis proprium peregrinorum est. 200 Supra. 201 See supra for Gaius’s equivalence between these two document types; cf. Pseudo-Asconius Verr. 1.36 on subtle difference between them. 202 Cicero employs puns liberally in these letters and he particularly enjoys legal puns. On previous jokes related to cautio, cf. Fam. 7.10.2 = SB 33 (sed tu in re militari multo es cautior quam in advocationibus) and Fam. 7.13.2 = SB 36 (Sed, ut ego quoque te aliquid admoneam de vestris cautionibus, Treviros vites censeo: audio capitales esse; mallem auro, argento, aeri essent. Sed alias iocabimur.) There was also plenty of philosophical humor in the Trebatius letters; see Griffin (1999: 331-335).

sabbatical from Rome (fructuosissimus), views these terms in a non-literal sense: while

“[v]estrae cautiones signify the promises of preferment which Trebatius had obtained from Caesar,” this syngrapha “embodies Cicero's assurance of support – an assurance given, as it were, spontaneously.”203 This support is, of course, simply polite euphemism for monetary reward. Although I find myself in agreement with Elmore’s interpretation of Graecula cautio, I do feel that he has not fully articulated the significance of this paraphrase within this passage.

If a graecula cautio is a paraphrase for a syngrapha, I find it difficult not to construe this paraphrase as referring to Cicero’s own letter.204 A syngrapha (that is, a graecula cautio) was a contract likely in epistolary form.205 The accompanying genitive

(aside from being a pun) is simply descriptive. Thus, when stripped of its legal wordplay, this paraphrase simply means ‘an epistula written sua manu’ or a holograph. Certainly, it makes sense that Cicero would reference his own proper writing habits in prelude to his upcoming critique of Trebatius’ habits; however, Cicero’s pairing of Caesar’s cautiones with his own epistula (née graecula cautio) makes this statement rather more provocative. Cicero is essentially saying that Trebatius should construe this holograph

(the material proof of one party’s investment in a relationship) as substantiation that his time in Gaul will be economically advantageous (fructuosissimus). This path to riches will necessarily involve Trebatius trading on his relationship with Cicero (of which

Cicero has given material proof in the form of the holograph) via his letter of recommendation to Caesar. The imperator will then find a way to enrich Trebatius, and such a sequence of events is the natural order in the Roman world. While Roman

203 Elmore (1913: 130-131). 204 I find myself in agreement with T.-P. as to what cautio refers, but my reasoning is different; cf. n. 196. 205 Cf. n. 182.

friendships surely did involve genuine feelings of affection and respect, this social institution plainly also aided in the distribution of symbolic and economic capital amongst the aristocracy since amicitia was, as Verboven succinctly summarizes it, “a form of human capital yielding an irregular interest.”206 Commendationes just happened to be one of the mechanisms that allows for this redistribution.207 What Cicero is telling

Trebatius by reference to his epistula as a Graecula cautio was essentially this: “don’t worry, these pieces of symbolic capital (the letters), which are representative of human capital (amicitia), will eventually turn into economic capital.” Or, to put it another way,

Cicero is saying (in conflict with his earlier warning) that an epistula can be regarded as a syngrapha in the sense that both can be redeemed for cash.

Of course, Cicero is now committing the same transgression which he accused

Antony of committing – conflating public and private discourses, or (to phrase it in a new way) confusing the distinction between the symbolic economy and the financial.

Although textual practices may have allowed the aristocracy to create some perceived division between these discourses (and these economies), this attempted segregation did not stop them from interacting. This is the danger embedded in Antony’s transgression of the line between public and private discourse via his indiscriminate textual practices.

By threatening to collapse the distinction between public and private business, Antony’s conduct endangered the aristocracy since his actions could expose the fact that both of these discourses were “economies” with items for sale and redeemable for cash. Yet in

Trebatius’ case, Cicero himself has come precariously close to exposing this same scandal although his motive for this exposure was didactic. What Cicero attempts to

206 Verboven (2002: 341); more generally, see Verboven (2002: 341-349) and Ioannatou (2006: 234-237) on the financial implications of amicitia. 207 Verboven (2002: 287-323).

teach Trebatius is the unwritten rule of every society: if you discharge correctly these aristocratic practices (this unseen script), it will result in your financial gain; that is, the symbolic economy can be just as materially advantageous as its financial counterpart.

Nonetheless, for Trebatius to cash in his epistula (as if it was a syngrapha), he had to pretend that this sort of quid pro quo was not his purpose. To do so, he had to be discreet or, to put it another way, “well socialized.” Yet in Cicero’s estimation, Trebatius often proved wanting in this regard, even before he started sending his problematic epistles. Cicero had already termed Trebatius subimpudens for gauchely regarding his commendatio as entitling him to financial reward. In addition, Cicero had previously reminded Trebatius that although certain persons like Balbus could be of great value to him, it was his own pudor and labor that were his most valuable (plurimum) assets (Fam.

7.7.2 = SB 28).208 Indeed, it is no coincidence that pudor and verecundia are often invoked in commendationes.209 Internalization of propriety and shame are often the means by which society suppresses certain uncomfortable truths and enforces certain behaviors. In the case of commendationes, participants play coy about the fact that what the writer of a commendatio was often essentially asking the recipient to do was to enrich the commendatus. Recourse to moral and ethical vocabulary (like humanitas, pudor, liberalitas, and verecundia) and the language of friendship helped to obfuscate economic aspects of a relationship and create the illusion that this financial enrichment was the result of one’s character rather than privileged access to certain social networks.

208 Fam. 7.7.2 = SB 28: sin autem sine Britannia tamen assequi, quod volumus, possumus, perfice, ut sis in familiaribus Caesaris: multum te in eo frater adiuvabit meus, multum Balbus, sed, mihi crede, tuus pudor et labor plurimum. 209 Cotton (1981: 51 n. 257). For examples, see Fam. 2.6.2 = SB 50, 13.2.1 = SB 314, 13.17.3 = SB 283, and Q.fr. 3.1.10 = SB 21.

Nonetheless, financial calculations were still at the core of this social ritual despite the lexical camouflage.

Trebatius’ writing habits (which were without verecundia), then, fit into an established pattern of problematic behavior that threatened the possibility that his time in

Gaul will be fructuosissimus. Trebatius was not giving due respect (bibliographic or otherwise) to men like Caesar and Cicero; that is, he was not properly paying off his bills in terms of symbolic capital, although he still expected payments of economic capital.

Trebatius seems to have forgotten that although he might have gained a singularis commendatio (that is, successfully bartered for it on a symbolic stock exchange), this commendatio only allowed him access to Caesar with whom he should continue a similar exchange of symbolic goods, which would eventually result in material reward. Yet

Trebatius often failed to maintain this brokerage of symbolic capital. His duplicate letters were just one more example of not playing this game by properly (i.e. discreetly) exchanging symbolic capital for economic capital. Thus, Cicero warns Trebatius that by his behavior (bibliographic and otherwise) he risks either failing at this game (the proper exchange of symbolic goods) or worse, exposing the aristocracy’s long-standing confidence game of trafficking in symbolic goods for eventual material reward – thereby removing the value of trafficking in such symbolic goods.

Finally, we should note that Trebatius’ handwriting practices would not only have been harmful to Trebatius, but could also have been problematic for Cicero since he had recommended Trebatius to Caesar and Caesar’s treatment of his newfound ward would be both an index of Cicero’s relationship with Caesar and also Cicero’s own auctoritas.

By acting in such a subimpudens manner, Trebatius has already endangered his material

reward since he acted like it were his entitlement. Moreover, such a potential failure would not only be a censure of Trebatius for his behavior, but also of Cicero for his recommendation. Cicero’s ability to recommend others in the future (i.e. to distribute symbolic capital) would be damaged to some degree,210 while this public rebuke of

Trebatius will create another obstacle for Cicero to overcome in his relationship with

Caesar.211 Moreover, Trebatius’ behavior was also potentially harmful to Cicero as a

Roman aristocrat, since the political authority of any elite is interconnected with its stores of symbolic power.212 By drawing attention to the link between commercial and symbolic economies, Trebatius endangered the value of this symbolic capital since its worth remained entirely contingent on its removal from the commercial sphere. Cicero, then, would have had plenty of motivation for his attempt to re-educate Trebatius on the niceties of aristocratic discourse in epistolary form, since it was not only Trebatius’ reserves of symbolic (and therefore also economic) capital that were at stake.

Conclusions

We can now answer the question that was posed at the outset: what was the value of Cicero’s autograph? Handwriting in letters, it seems, was one of the ways the Roman elite ritualized (or in this case, textualized) access to social standing as a set of internalized practices in specific social situations in such a way as to obscure the fact that material wealth was one of the entailments of successful social interactions. The true value of the autograph (or holograph) of any Roman aristocrat was partially occluded by the creation of two separate discourses within epistolography, themselves delineated via

210 Verboven (2002: 316-322). 211 As White notes (2003), Cicero’s relationship with Caesar was often problematic because they conducted it primarily through letters and via third parties such as Trebatius. 212 Bourdieu (1990: 122).

careful maintenance of two separate types of textual practices associated with each.

Thus, the so-called private discourse was characterized by an author’s investment of his own time and effort through his own handwriting and avoidance of using such purchased luxuries as a slave to whom he might dictate. The public discourse was the opposite: dictation was the norm for textual production with scribes providing most of the investment of labor and time. As a byproduct of this segregation of social spheres, the holograph emphasized the amicitia between correspondents; this gesture accentuated the personal dimension of the relationship at the expense of pragmatic, commercial interests, which were also often embedded in these aristocratic communications and relationships.

Indeed, this obfuscation of the commercial within personal discourse was the ideological aim of this social practice since this literal sleight of hand allowed for the creation and maintenance of a division between symbolic and commercial economies, which were hidden beneath the moral and ethical rhetoric concerning the necessity of keeping personal affairs discreet from public business.

Moreover, it should be now apparent that the Roman aristocracy also made use of the social materiality of epistolography, and of Roman epistolography itself, as a potent weapon in the maintenance of the traditional power structures at Rome. Invocation of such terms as humanitas and verecundia, two social constructs which strongly structured a Roman aristocrat’s comportment, were key in maintaining the social fiction of this division in discourses and economies that had been partially created by an epistle’s mode of production. Indeed, the creation of this ideology was of critical importance to the aristocracy since it allowed them to proceed with this division in discourses and economies as if it were a natural ethical and moral imperative instead of a social

arbitrary. This mystification enabled the aristocracy further control over society since it allowed them to limit access to the symbolic economy subjectively and therefore also to the financial economy. This value of epistolography as a whole to the aristocracy’s political authority, then, may explain the relative paucity of didactic manuals on the subject and, in particular, on the subject of the social materiality of epistolary communications. The lack of clear instruction on the matter made successful access to the symbolic economy even more contingent on a prior relationship with someone within this system who could properly educate and socialize the new member in the linguistic and material practices of this medium – as Cicero did for Trebatius.

Therefore, by way of preliminary conclusion, I would suggest that we regard epistolography, or rather elite epistolography, as an important gateway and barrier to social mobility in the Roman world. It was within this arena that Roman aristocrats made claims to this status by demonstrating their internalization of certain codes of conduct

(both material and linguistic) in this discourse; that is to say, they gave evidence of their elite status and of their privileged birth and upbringing. Validation of this status subsequently entitled participants to a financial reward since they were now permitted to access social networks (of which epistolary communication between aristocrats constituted one) where symbolic capital and economic capital were discreetly trafficked and converted. Since prior access to this symbolic and economic capital produced the conditions that created the elite epistolographer, there was a certain circularity to this system. One needed access to symbolic and economic capital to become an aristocratic epistolographer; however, one needed to be already skillful at these types of discursive and material epistolary practices in order to enjoy entry into these economies. Thus, the

aristocracy reproduced itself in a vacuum and few new members could be admitted into its ranks. Nonetheless, these can only be preliminary conclusions since they rely too heavily on the assumption that Cicero’s rhetoric and ideology of epistolary social materiality matches the aristocracy’s as a whole. I will address this deficiency in the next chapter.

Chapter Two: An Economy of Letters

In the previous chapter, I demonstrated that the physical act of composing an epistula was a complex social performance for a Roman aristocrat with various implications for his status in the community and his relationship with his correspondent.

In particular, I argued that a holograph helped to segregate private affairs from public business – an important division in a society that employed the letter (as a structural unit of text) in business, government, and personal correspondence. More particularly, I suggested that these epistulae, which Roman aristocrats exchanged with each other, signified the investment that each party placed in a relationship. Due to the greater personal involvement in terms of time and labor that an epistula scripta sua manu entailed, I argued that these holographs possessed a greater worth in comparison with a dictated epistle and created a debt and an obligation on the part of the recipient to respond in kind. Finally, I argued that this epistolary system functioned as a symbolic economy, as defined by the sociologist Pierre Bourdieu, and that the holograph constituted an important form of symbolic capital within this economy of epistolography. Moreover, these holographs (as units of symbolic capital) could be converted into economic capital in the commercial economy, with epistolographers bartering the debts and obligations that they had accumulated via letter-writing for monetary rewards, primarily through the social institution of amicitia.

Nevertheless, this construction of the social materiality of epistolography as a symbolic economy, which functions in unison with the commercial economy, could be justifiably criticized for making Cicero’s rhetoric and ideology stand in for that of the aristocracy as a whole. I would not be the first scholar to perform such a rhetorical bait

72 73

and switch. Yet the Letters allow us to test further my hypothesis from the previous chapter, since scattered amongst these epistolary ruins are litterae from epistolographers other than Cicero. L. Munatius Plancus and M. Caelius Rufus, two of Cicero’s more famous correspondents, make explicit reference to the mode of production of their missives. In both these cases, I demonstrate that these republican aristocratic epistolographers frame the production of an epistula within a decidedly ‘economic’ paradigm, both in theory and in practice. In fact, these two letter writers are more explicit and instructive (in comparison with Cicero, at least) about the interconnected nature of the various economies (moral, political, social and financial) in Roman society and how individuals could convert commodities in one economy, such as the holograph in the symbolic economy of epistolography, into capital in another. Finally, this more nuanced understanding of such an economy of letters and its place and function within

Roman elite culture will help us to elucidate further the meaning and status of the holograph in Cicero’s epistolary transactions with Antony and Trebatius respectively.

I The Personal is Political

On his own defection to the Liberals and back again to the Tories, Winston

Churchill famously commented: “Anyone can rat, but it takes a certain ingenuity to re- rat.”213 L. Munatius Plancus also had this ‘certain ingenuity.’ Plancus’ flexible ethics are well documented.214 In the civil war of 43 BC, Plancus wavered for a prolonged

213 Like collections of Cicero’s wit, this quotation is likely apocryphal; see Langworth (2009: 42). 214 Plancus receives particularly critical notice from Velleius Paterculus, whose hostile opinion of Plancus likely derives form his reliance on Asinius Pollio (Plancus’ great rival) as a source; see Wright (2002) and Hall (2009: 188-190). On Plancus’ vita in general, see RE 30, Walser’s (1957) commentary on his epistles, and Watkin’s (1997) recent and largely sympathetic biography of him. Plancus’ funerary inscription is extant as well (CIL X. 6087).

period before siding with Antony.215 More than a decade later and with Antony’s strength waning in his conflict with Octavian, Plancus not only changed his loyalties, but also betrayed the contents of Antony’s will to Octavian.216 Part of the reason why

Plancus was able to get away with these shifts in loyalties was because he, like Churchill, seems to have had a certain way (or ingenuity) with words, a skill which certainly would have been useful when circumstances led him to “rat” or “re-rat.”217 At every turn of events, Plancus seems to have had a gift for saying the right thing (if not for doing the right thing). Plancus’ correspondence with Cicero in 44-43 BC is an excellent example of this verbal dexterity.218 In this exchange, Cicero attempts to convince Plancus

(initially the consul designate and then the consul for 43 BC) to take up the side of senate

(and therefore Cicero’s faction) in the nascent bellum civile with Antony; in response,

Plancus attempts to appease Cicero, without making any concrete promises to the orator.

On the Ides of May 43 BC, Plancus dispatched a letter to Cicero with unwelcome, if not unexpected news: Lepidus and his army had defected to Antony.219 Since Plancus

215 On Plancus’ betrayal, see (in addition to book ten of the Letters) App. B.C. 3.96-97, Dio Cass. 46.53.1- 2, and Vell. Pat. 2.63 216 Plut. Ant. 58. 217 Hall (2009: 188) and White (2010: 158); more generally, on Plancus’ great acumen with the language of aristocratic relations, see Hall (2009: 178-189). Moreover, in the ancient sources, Plancus is remembered as an orator (Plin. NH 7.55), although not always as a particularly effective one (Suet. Rhet. 6). Asconius (Mil. 32) also refers to him as an orator, but Broughton (1986: 146) doubts this identification and instead believes that it refers to a cousin. 218 Fam. 10.1-24. It is important to remember that this collection of epistulae does not contain all the letters from this ‘conversation,’ nor does the manuscript order represent the correspondence’s chronological order, but a later rearrangement. White (2010: 35-37) meticulously charts this correspondence and identifies many manipulations. On this correspondence’s original chronological order, see Sternkopf (1910), Walser (1961), and SB in that order. 219 On Lepidus’ defection, cf. Plut. Ant. 18, Vell. Pat. 2.68, Appian B.C. 3.83-4, and Dio Cass. 46.51. The ancient sources give the impression that Lepidus followed his troops’ lead in transferring his loyalty to Antony, although modern historians question whether this defection under duress was actually a staged performance; Weigel (1992: 59) holds this latter view, while Alléley (2004: 108 and 113) believes that it was the former.

had recently claimed to have brought Lepidus back into the senatorial fold, his defection to Antony was both an insult to and embarrassment for Plancus.220 He writes:

Puderet me inconstantiae mearum litterarum, si non haec ex aliena levitate penderent. Omnia feci, qua re Lepido coniuncto ad rem publicam defendendam minore sollicitudine vestra perditis resisterem: omnia ei et petenti recepi et ultro pollicitus sum scripsique tibi biduo ante confidere me bono Lepido esse usurum communique consilio bellum administraturum; credidi chirographis eius, affirmationi praesentis Laterensis, qui tum apud me erat reconcilaremque me Lepido fidemque haberem orabat. Non licuit diutius bene de eo sperare: illud certe cavi et cavebo, ne mea credulitate rei publicae summa fallatur. Cum Isaram flumen uno die ponte effecto exercitum traduxissem pro magnitudine rei celeritatem adhibens, quod petierat per litteras ipse, ut maturarem venire, praesto mihi fuit stator eius cum litteris, quibus, ne venirem, denuntiabat; se posse per se conficere negotium; interea ad Isaram exspectarem. Indicabo temerarium meum consilium tibi: nihilo minus ire decreram existimans eum socium gloriae vitare; putabam posse me nec de laude ieiuni hominis delibare quidquam et subesse tamen propinquis locis, ut, si durius aliquid esset, succurrere celeriter possem. Ego non malus homo hoc suspicabar: at Laterensis, vir sanctissimus, suo chirographo mittit mihi litteras in iisque desperans de se, de exercitu, de Lepidi fide querensque se destitutum [in quibus] aperte denuntiat, videam, ne fallar; suam fidem solutam esse; rei publicae ne desim. Exemplar eius chirographi Titio misi: ipsa chirographa omnia, et quibus credidi, et ea, quibus fidem non habendam putavi, Laevo Cispio dabo perferenda, qui omnibus iis interfuit rebus. (Fam. 10.21.1 = SB 391).

I would have been ashamed at the fickleness of my letters, if this were not resulting from another’s vacillation. I undertook everything whereby I – with Lepidus added to the defense of the commonwealth – might resist these ruined men to your lesser anxiety at Rome. I guaranteed and promised everything to him, both when he sought and voluntarily. Two days ago I wrote you that I was confident that I was going to make use of an honorable Lepidus and that I would conduct the war via a joint plan with him. I trusted his autographed correspondence and the personal affirmation of Laterensis, who was with me then and was beseeching me to reconcile with Lepidus and to have faith in him. I was not permitted to have high hopes about him for very long. I certainly have and will guard against this thing – lest the fortune of the commonwealth suffer due to my naivety. When I had got my army across the Isara river after constructing a bridge in a single day, applying haste in line with the importance of the situation

220 Cf. Fam. 10.15.1 = SB 390: namque assiduis internuntiis cum Lepido egi, ut omissa omni contentione reconcilataque voluntate nostra communi consilio rei publicae succurreret, se, liberos urbemque pluris quam unum perditum abiectumque latronem putaret obsequioque meo, si ita faceret, ad omnes res abuteretur. Profeci. It is possible that Plancus’ situation may have been even more complicated, if Watkins (1997: 17-18) is correct that the Planci historically had been the clientes of the Lepidi.

(Lepidus had sought by letter that I might hasten my arrival), his orderly met me with a letter. In this epistle, he was instructing me not to proceed, stating that he could take care of the business himself and that I should wait meanwhile at Isara. I will reveal to you what my spur of the moment thinking was: I had decided to go on, nevertheless, believing that he was shunning an associate in glory. I believed that I could avoid diminishing the glory of a man thirsty for it and, nonetheless, remain at hand in nearby locales so that I could come to his aid quickly, if something rather adverse were to occur. Such was what I in my innocence was supposing; however, Laterensis, a most morally upright man, sends me a letter from his own hand, expressing excessive despair – about himself, the army, and the loyalty of Lepidus! He laments that he himself has been forsaken. In these letters, he openly warns me to see that I am not deceived, that his own faith in Lepidus is broken, and that I must not fail the commonwealth. I sent a copy of this letter to Titius. All the autographed correspondence itself – both these in which I have faith and these in which I have none – I will give to Laevus Cispius (who was present for all these things) to be conveyed to Rome.

Despite what has appeared prima facie to be a vivid and hasty account of quickly developing events,221 this letter represents a rather calculated narrative on Plancus’ part.

Naturally, all of Plancus’ rhetorical skill is directed towards one goal – exonerating himself in this unfortunate turn of events. Yet Plancus also reveals in this endeavor both the sizeable overlaps between the moral, political, social, and financial economies of elite republican society through his use of a series of charged words for members of the

Roman aristocracy (particularly, bonus and fides), as well as the function and worth of the holograph as a currency within these various economies.

In Plancus’ version of events, holographs (chirographa) become an index of the various parties’ moral and political statuses. Plancus notes that he had expected that

Lepidus would act as a bonus and, as a result, he put faith (fides) in Lepidus’ holographs.

Yet Lepidus’ use of epistulae as a vehicle for disseminating mendacities has rendered this earlier assessment of Lepidus’ behavior invalid; that is, Lepidus’ epistolary behavior has

221 Walser (1957: 130) describes it as a “einem sehr erregten und rasch hingeworfenen Briefe”

proven that he is not an honorable man.222 On the other hand, Plancus describes

Laterensis in a most complimentary fashion as a vir sanctissimus, immediately before referring to the fact that Laterensis had taken care to send Plancus a personally authored epistle concerning Lepidus’ betrayal (suo chirographo mittit mihi litteras).223 Laterensis’ epistolary behavior, which would seem to foreshadow his eventual suicide,224 reads in sharp contrast to Lepidus’ comportment.225 Moreover, Plancus’ designation of himself as a non malus homo must be read in conjunction with his failed hope that Lepidus would be bonus. By such rhetoric, Plancus suggests that he naturally would never have suspected that someone (particularly, an aristocrat) would use letters with a dishonest intention and solely for tactical advantage, since he is not a scoundrel unlike Lepidus. How these epistolographers made use of the holograph in this political crisis, then, seems meant to reflect upon their moral dispositions.

Yet the personal can never be apolitical in Rome, and Plancus’ choice of words – particularly his designation of Lepidus as a failed bonus vir – is charged with political meaning. In Cicero’s writing, the adjective bonus is famous for possessing a dual moral and political meaning, since it refracted one’s morality through one’s politics.226 A bonus

222 SB’s translation ad loc. (“that I was confident of finding Lepidus amenable”) completely elides the moral implications of Plancus’ terminology. 223 For sanctus with a moral sense, see OLD 4. Santoro L’Hoir (1992: 18) notes that Cicero reserves vir sanctissimus in his oratory for consular men of particular acclaim; cf. Sex. Rosc. 33, Pis. 47, and Plancus 12 for references to Q. Scaevola, A. Torquatus, and Q. Catulus respectively. 224 Vell. Pat. 2.62.2 and Dio Cass. 46.51 report that Laterensis committed suicide. On Laterensis’ vita, see Alexander (2002: 128-129). 225 In general, Laterensis was regarded as an upstanding citizen. Cicero praises his time as a quaestor and proquaestor (Planc. 13 and 63), as well as noting that Laterensis had acted honorably in withdrawing his candidacy for the tribunate in 58 BC when he would have been required to swear an oath to uphold Caesar’s agrarian laws (Att. 2.18.2 = SB 38). 226 Bonus as political term has a long scholarly history. Gunderson (2000: 7) provides a succinct summary of the multivalent nature of this term and the scholarship around it. On the larger split between optimi and populares in Roman politics, see Robb (2010: 15-34) for a review of the differing views in scholarship on these terms’ meanings. As Robb (2010: 102-103) points out, the distinction between boni and optimates is

vir supported the senate and the current arrangement of power structures and therefore was a ‘good’ person; the reverse was similarly true under this ideology. Yet it would be too simplistic to say that this ideology amounted to a tautology with ‘a good man’ being just a supporter of Cicero and the status quo. Gildenhard observes that Cicero consistently constructs a ‘good man’ in a more nuanced fashion. In Cicero’s writings, a bonus vir is an individual defined by “his ethics, both in private and public life” who is

“deeply committed to a distinctive set of community-oriented norms and values.”227

There is, of course, an intimate connection in this ideology between one’s commitment to traditional communal values and one’s political disposition. 228 For example, the auctoritas of the senate was not a constitutional requirement, but a social convention. In

Cicero’s world, viri were not boni since they supported the senate (and conveniently also

Cicero); rather, viri supported the traditional power structure in Roman society because they were boni. Thus, one’s social behavior became inseparable from one’s politics, and this linkage made all politics personal in Cicero’s Rome. For example, whether it is publicizing a private letter or flouting the authority of the senate, what defined Antony was a willful and continual rejection of social conventions, at least so far as Cicero was concerned. A true bonus vir needed to live in accordance with mos maiorum, the traditional values and parameters for social and political behavior.

Throughout his correspondence with Cicero, Plancus consistently gives the impression of subscribing to a similar sociopolitical ideology,229 and his portrayal of

not always clear; for example, Cicero uses both terms interchangeably in his famous letter to Lentulus Spinther, in which he justifies his newfound support of the triumvirs (Fam. 1.9 = SB 20). 227 Gildenhard (2011: 80). On the boni more generally, see Gildenhard (2011: 74-80). 228 On this evolution, see Hellegouarc’h (1963: 486). 229 In a letter to the senate (Fam 10.8.3 = SB 371) and a letter to Cicero (Fam 10.18.1 = SB 395), Plancus explicitly refers to the res publica and the boni as a political dyad, while Cicero also makes such a linkage in a letter to Plancus (Fam. 10.6.3 = SB 370).

epistolary ethics provides more evidence for his adherence to this philosophy, at least when he is in dialogue with Cicero. As we have seen, Plancus depicts epistolary practices in order to reflect moral dispositions in this letter, while political ideology constituted an ethical belief system for Cicero and likely for much of the rest of the

Roman aristocracy. Plancus’ emphasis on the dishonest nature of Lepidus’ autographed letters, then, has the effect of dramatizing Lepidus’ change in partisan colors, and revealing why he did so. By allying himself with Antony, Lepidus has become a man who does not abide by conventional societal values, and his underhanded employment of letters is just another exemplum of his dual moral and political bankruptcy. Lepidus shows no deference to the traditional arrangement of powers in the res publica, but rather seeks to undermine the commonwealth for his own personal advantage. Unsurprisingly, then, Lepidus treated letters as an arena for subterfuge and deceit, as one would expect of a man who has betrayed the res publica, since he does not abide by traditional Roman communal values. Moreover, Plancus contrasts Lepidus’ moral bankruptcy with

Laterensis’ bonitas (in a moral and political sense) via his holograph. A stalwart optimas like Laterensis, even while in dire personal peril, had the courtesy to write sua manu to

Plancus not only in order to apprise him of the deteriorating situation, but also to counsel him to protect the commonwealth230 – something Laterensis has not been able to do.231

In the midst of great personal danger, Laterensis uses epistulae to warn his friend and

230 Laterensis came from a strong patrician and optimate lineage; cf. Cicero’s characterization of him and his family in the Pro Cn. Plancio (50-52), a case in which Laterensis was the prosecutor and Cicero the defense counsel. 231 Plancus has scorn in a later letter to Cicero concerning Laterensis’ facilitation of Lepidus’ betrayal: Laterensis nostri et fidem et animum singularem in rem publicam semper fatebor; sed certe nimia eius indulgentia in Lepidum ad haec pericula perspicienda fecit eum minus sagacem (Fam. 10.23.4 = SB 414). As Hall (2009: 39) notes, Laterensis’ suicide shows that the ethical implications of such guarantees were deadly serious.

exhort him to defend the Republic. Just as with Lepidus, epistolary behavior becomes indicative of a political disposition.

Plancus would appear to refract this moral and political ideology through the prism of epistolary behavior because such an ethical paradigm allows him not only to excuse his own performance in this episode, but also to valorize his own conduct. By

Plancus’ logic, Cicero cannot blame him for failing to foresee Lepidus’ betrayal of both himself and the commonwealth because Plancus has only acted within the traditional aristocratic values in trusting Lepidus’ chirographa and supposed that Lepidus would act as a bonus vir. Plancus presents this naivety as his one and only fault (illud certe cavi et cavebo, ne mea credulitate rei publicae summa fallatur). Moreover, as a result of his invocation of this sort of sociopolitical ideology, Plancus can now play the bonus vir in this letter (or, as he more modestly puts it in a litotes: non malus homo)232 without ever irrevocably pledging himself to the boni through a military conflict with Antony’s forces.

The fact that Lepidus’ letters deceived Plancus simply serves to testify to Plancus’ bonitas, since he interacted with the epistolary medium in an aristocratic manner and he expected that Lepidus would do so as well.233 Again, the personal (or the epistolary, in this case) is political. What we are witnessing is Plancus ingeniously exploiting Cicero’s linkage of political ideology with personal ethics. By demonstrating his own subscription to traditional communal values (as revealed by his epistolary behavior) to Cicero, Plancus can lay claim to the title of bonus vir, yet without ever taking action that might alienate

Antony and the other perditi in the future.

232 The use of homo, instead of vir, also tends to make this litotes even more circumspect; cf. Santoro L’Hoir (1992: 11 and 18). 233 Hall (2009: 39) classes such pledges of support under the rubric of commonplace “aristocratic business,” and notes that they “played a significant role in high-stake political negotiations.” On such pledges of support more generally, see Hall (2009: 38-41).

This evasion of personal responsibility may now be identified as an important subtext of Plancus’ epistula to Cicero, rather than an account of the military situation.

Plancus thus opened this letter by attempting to transfer criticism of his behavior to

Lepidus (puderet me inconstantiae mearum litterarum, si non haec ex aliena levitate penderent). For this same reason, Plancus draws attention to Lepidus’ chirographa, as well as Laterensis’ affirmation of his character (adfirmationi), which was responsible for his own reconciliation with (reconciliaremque me) and faith in (fides) Lepidus. The central message that Plancus attempts to impart to Cicero via this epistle seems principally to be that he, Plancus, has acted in a moral fashion (by the standards of the aristocratic community), while Lepidus has not. Plancus seems very concerned with emphasizing that his behavior has been above reproach and any errors on his part devolved entirely from his aristocratic disposition and his presumption that Lepidus was of a similar disposition. As proof of this, Plancus provides a dramatization of his and

Lepidus’ conflicting epistolary habits since the treatment and employment of these texts on each man’s part evince their differing political and moral compasses. Epistolography becomes in Plancus’ rhetoric, then, a clever means by which he can both exhibit some adherence to the ideology of the senatorial cause and also justify his failure to foresee or forestall Lepidus’ defection. Nonetheless, while Plancus does construct and treat epistolography as a moral and political economy in this letter, I believe that if we situate

Plancus and Lepidus’ correspondence within the fetishized gift economy for letters

(which I discussed in the last chapter), we can see that these moral and political economies had clear links with the commercial marketplace as well.

II Full Faith and Credit

To start with, it is important to dwell upon the autographed nature of Plancus and

Lepidus’ correspondence. These holographs helped to situate their epistolary transaction within the paradigm of a personal relationship of two aristocratic males, instead of two office holders of the res publica,234 and this reconfiguration has a number of important consequences. By sending a holograph, Lepidus bypassed the typical advantages of his social station (i.e. dictation and a scribe) and invested his own time and labor in this donum (the epistula). The holograph was thus a form of symbolic capital – the material manifestation of one party’s investment in the relationship. As a result, Plancus (the receiver of this gift of symbolic capital) shunned this ‘gift’ at his own peril. The receiver had to respond and repay the sender with a similar gift, or the relationship between these two correspondents could suffer, since a failure to reciprocate in kind could be interpreted as a sign of disregard for the relationship or a belief that the other party was not a social equal. (This was, of course, the lesson that Cicero attempted to teach Trebatius.) Since durable networks of relationships (amicitiae) underwrote an elite male’s political and economic power in the Roman world, it was this complex matrix of social politics, which the holograph placed upon the recipient, that made an epistula scripta sua manu an effective persuasive tool. An autographed correspondence (with its greater investment of time and labor on the part of the writers) implied that the epistolographer had put his network of amicitae at risk and dared the correspondent to do the same. As a result, each

234 On this point, it is worth noting the inscriptiones prefacing Cicero’s correspondence during the bellum civile. With the exception of the publicae litterae, what is striking about nearly all of the inscriptiones is that they consist of only cognomina, instead of full names and offices. This structure implies a far more familiar and personal social transaction; cf. White (2010: 67-71) on inscriptiones in Cicero’s Letters. Although we can never know how Lepidus addressed Plancus, given their use of holographs it seems likely that Lepidus used the more familiar formula.

party had something to lose, and something to gain, in this encounter and it was the potential motivation of profit and loss that was elided in the transaction.

This perspective provides a more nuanced account of why Plancus highlights epistolary behavior in this episode: such a focus allows him to exculpate further his own actions. Like any aristocrat, Plancus naturally would not want to harm his network of amicitiae and would have believed that Lepidus operated under a similar imperative.

Multiple layers of associations and connections (familial, political, personal, and financial) would have bound together the entire Roman aristocracy into one not entirely cohesive whole. Accordingly, to offend a fellow member of the aristocracy could have far reaching consequences, as this insult reverberated through these networks. In the vast majority of situations, preserving and augmenting one’s amicitiae would be in every aristocrat’s interest. In this society, whoever possessed the greatest number of dependents and connections (i.e. symbolic capital) would likely prove to have the most auctoritas and dignitas. Indeed, in many ways, the game of politics in Rome was negotiated through and within this economy of amicitiae – and Plancus (like all aristocrats) was heavily invested in this economy. Under this system, Plancus would have been expected to accept the contents of Lepidus’ holograph as genuine and sincere, since to do otherwise could damage his relationship with Lepidus and the wider network of people associated with Lepidus. As Hall observes in reference to Lepidus and

Plancus’ situation, such promises of support “generated ethical leverage between the parties involved.”235 To rephrase it in the theoretical model of this chapter: Lepidus had made a substantial loan of symbolic capital (the holograph) to Plancus in this epistolary transaction and Plancus had either to repay this debt (since such reciprocity was a

235 Hall (2009: 39).

necessity in this symbolic economy), or be willing to offend Lepidus and his closely aligned amici and thereby forfeit some amount of the symbolic capital of amicitiae by spurning Lepidus’ gesture.236

Yet Lepidus emerges as something of a rogue trader in this economy in Plancus’ narrative; that is, Plancus portrays Lepidus as willing to rupture the flow of goods in the symbolic economy of epistolography (contrary to marketplace regulations), if it were to his immediate advantage. Lepidus took a social space, in which aristocrats negotiated amicitiae and built up their symbolic capital, and he transformed it into a weapon of war.

In Plancus’ view, this redeployment of the epistula’s sociological purpose helps to exclude Lepidus from the ranks of the boni. Lepidus does not subscribe to or act in accordance with “a distinctive set of community-oriented norms and values.”237 In short,

Lepidus was no aristocrat. Yet Plancus – a non malus homo, as he styles himself – presents himself to Cicero in this situation as an aristocrat because he operated within this marketplace and in accordance with its regulations. After all, he only presumed that

Lepidus would attempt to accumulate symbolic capital via his epistles, instead of a tactical advantage, and he thus cannot be faulted when Lepidus (contrary to his upbringing and rank) acted against aristocratic custom and his long-term self-interest.

There is obviously a connection here between Plancus’ rhetoric and Cicero’s portrayal of Antony, which we investigated in the last chapter. Just as Cicero found it gauche for Antony to use a personal letter for such obvious short-term monetary advantage (the bought and paid-for restoration of Sextus Cloelius), Plancus suggests that

236 We saw a similar maneuver in the last chapter with Pulcher and Cicero’s correspondence, when Cicero employed a holograph (and emphasized such action) in order to convene a meaning finally with the outgoing governor. 237 Gildenhard (2011: 80).

it is similarly distasteful that Lepidus is willing to redeploy the personal letter as a weapon of war, in opposition to aristocratic customs. In both Cicero’s and Plancus’ narratives, newfound allies Antony and Lepidus (enemies of the boni) disregard conventional aristocratic mores and instead act in accordance with self-interest on all occasions. Both men fail to understand the workings of the symbolic economy, since they can calculate matters only by immediate financial or military advantage. In doing so, Antony and Lepidus gain temporary benefits, but both men also reveal themselves not to be true aristocrats, and therefore demonstrate that their enemies are defenders of the boni, since it is an understanding of the workings of the symbolic economy which defines an aristocrat in both Cicero’s and Plancus’ worldviews. This similarity between Cicero’s and Plancus’ rhetoric suggests how pervasive this conception of epistolography as a symbolic economy was for members of the Roman elite, given that Plancus appears to believe that recourse to such a sociopolitical ideology will exonerate him in Cicero’s eyes.

Cicero and Plancus’ shared conception of epistolography as a symbolic economy manifests further in Plancus’ repeated reference to and focus upon the fides of the various participants in this saga of civil war and betrayal. Plancus notes that Laterensis was urging him to have fides in Lepidus (fidemque haberem orabat), and these repeated requests had prompted his reconciliation with Lepidus and his faith (confidere) that

Lepidus would be a bonus vir. Moreover, in Plancus’ summarization of Laterensis’ handwritten letter to him, Laterensis despaired not about Lepidus himself, but about

Lepidus’ fides (nimis quam desperans […] de Lepidi fide),238 while stating that he had no

238 See also Fam. 10.15.2 = SB 390: itaque per Laterensem internuntium fidem mihi (s.c. Lepidus) dedit se Antonium, si prohibere provincia sua non potuisset, bello persecuturum.

faith any longer in Lepidus (suam fidem solutam esse).239 Finally, Plancus divided these chirographa (which he sent back to Rome)240 into two groups: those in which he had faith (credidi) and those which he thought had no credit (fidem non habendam). Now

Plancus’ focus on this social construct should perhaps not be particularly surprising given that fides was, in its simplest terms “la confiance mutuelle qui s’établit dans les rapports entre deux personages.” 241 Obviously, Lepidus’ recent behavior (epistolary and otherwise) will lessen, if not erase, whatever confiance mutuelle might have previously existed between him and many members of the Roman elite.242 Moreover, the physical act of dextrarum iunctio symbolically represented the idea of fides for Romans,243 with the right hand regularly used in a hendiadys with fides.244 This fact would seem pertinent given that this entire letter characterized its subjects morally and politically through their epistolary conduct – particularly their usage and misusage of the holograph. Thus, the most morally upstanding Laterensis employed a holograph – which is to say, he used his dextra – to warn Plancus of Lepidus’ betrayal. In contrast, Lepidus used his dextra to

239 The belief that fidem solvere is analogous to votum solvere underlies many translations. Under this philological analysis, fidem solvere translates broadly to something akin to ‘to untie an obligation’ and thus ‘to keep a promise.’ Cf. Shackleton Bailey’s (2001) translation in the Loeb editions of the Letters (“he himself has kept the faith”) and Shuckburgh’s translation (“he had been true to his word”). However, L&S are probably right in seeing an analogous construction in Ovid’s Heroides: me quoque, qua fratrem mactasses, improbe, clava! / esset, quam dederas, morte soluta fides (10. 77-78). Thus, L&S presumes (as do I) that an ellipsis exists in this sentence: suam fidem (i.e. quam Lepido habuerit) solutam esse. 240 Although Plancus does not explicitly state that Laevus Cispius, to whom he gives these holographs, will take these letters back to Rome, Laevus appears later as courier of a letter (this letter, in fact) to Cicero (Fam. 10.18.1 = SB 295). Broughton (1952: 351) lists him under the heading of legates and envoys. 241 Hellegouarc’h (1963: 27), emphasis original. 242 Cf. Cic. Off. 2.33: iustis autem et fidis hominibus, id est bonis viris, ita fides habetur, ut nulla sit in iis fraudis iniuriaeque suspicio. 243 Boyancé (1972: 121-127). So Pliny the Elder states: inest et aliis partibus quaedam religio, sicut in dextera (NH. 250). 244 Boyancé (1972: 124). The most famous example is Lucretia’s extraction of a promise that Tarquinius will be punished: sed date dexteras fidemque haud impune adultero fore (Livy 1.58.7). See also Ter. Andr. 289, Cic. Pro reg Dejot. 8, and Ov. Met. 14.297.

write a dishonest letter. In each case, Plancus presents the holograph (and the dextra which wrote it) as indicative of the fides, or lack thereof, of the epistolographer.

Yet this symbolic economy of epistolography, which fides regulates, could never be just symbolic, since the line between social standing and financial solvency was blurred among the Roman elite. One’s social standing within the community was, in fact, one’s credit rating. With no large-scale banking infrastructure in Roman society, amicitia served as a space in which the financial solvency of various parties could be evaluated and debts could be enforced. This social institution provided a marketplace for credit since it created “a platform of trust on which credit transactions could staged” and “a way to exert pressure on a debtor,”245 and it was fides that animated this system of amicitia, since friendship could not exist without some level of trust.246 This trust (fides) that an aristocrat enjoyed in his amicitiae could subsequently be converted into credit in the financial sense, since the fidelity of one’s friendships acted as guarantee for these loans.

Thus, Cicero rightfully regarded fides in a discussion of Rome’s debt problems as the glue holding together Roman society (nec enim ulla res vehementius rem publicam continet quam fides [Off. 2.84]),247 since fides could never be just financial credit for someone like Cicero, but would always encompass credit “in the various senses of the word,” to quote Bourdieu.248 In Rome, then, the personal was not just political; it was also economic.

245 Verboven (2002: 342-343). 246 Cf. Cic. Inv. 1.47: nam ut locus sine portu navibus esse non potest tutus, sic animus sine fide stabilis amicis non potest esse. 247 Cf. Cicero’s fuller discussion of fides as financial credit: tabulae vero novae quid habent argumenti, nisi ut emas mea pecunia fundum, eum tu habeas, ego non habeam pecuniam? quam ob rem ne sit aes alienum, quod rei publicae noceat, providendum est, quod multis rationibus caveri potest, non, si fuerit, ut locupletes suum perdant, debitores lucrentur alienum. nec enim ulla res vehementius rem publicam continet quam fides, quae esse nulla potest, nisi erit necessaria solutio rerum creditarum. (Off. 2.84) 248 Bourdieu (1997: 51).

Through his use of vocabulary loaded with financial implications in this letter,

Plancus gives the appearance of subscribing to such an ideology, which combines and conflates the personal and the economic under the rubric of fides. Perhaps most obviously, Plancus continually terms the various holographs at the center of this narrative as chirographa and later divides these documents between those which have credit in his eyes (credidi)249 and those which do not (habere fidem, a very mercantile turn of phrase).250 A chirographum was, of course, a type of commercial contract in epistolary form,251 and it should not be surprising that Plancus appears to conflate these two meanings. As I have endeavored to demonstrate, these holographs were not just letters, but social contracts that recorded and embodied the exchange of symbolic capital between various members of the Roman elite. Obviously, since Lepidus has foresworn the promises in his chirographum, his fides would be in danger. Indeed, Plancus suggests

Lepidus’ future when he refers to Antony’s faction as the perditi, an adjective which nicely encapsulates the Roman idea that moral and economic bankruptcies were the same thing.252 Since these men inspire no fides, they will have very limited access to credit in any sense of the word. That is, they are insolvent in the symbolic and financial economies, which are interlinked in Roman society. Other terms and phrases in this letter are similarly pregnant with financial implications: Plancus not only made guarantees to

249 OLD 2; cf. L&S on credo: “Orig. belonging to the lang. of business.” Thus, credo with a financial sense appears very early in the literary sources (e.g. Cato RR 5.4 and Pl. Ps. 506). See also Cicero’s humorous treatment of his “faith” in the geographer Dicaearchus (Att. 6.2.4 = SB 116), a passage which contains a series of puns that rely on the dual moral and financial meanings for many common words in Latin, but especially credo (Andreau [1983: 104-105] has a fuller discussion of these puns). 250 It is generally agreed that this turn of phrase is financial in origin; see Lombardi (1961: 29 n.36). Indeed, the debate that Freyburger (1986: 39-41) stages over whether habere fidem has a passive or active sense points towards this reading. Fides (as financial credit) would naturally have both senses. 251 For a summary of chirographum in usage in ancient texts, see Monco (2002: 142-146). 252 Santoro L’Hoir (1992: 75) notes that Cicero regularly applies the adjective perditus to Catiline and his associates, who were renowned for desiring tabulae novae (cf. Cat. 1.13, 2.8, 3.14, and 4.5). In addition, Wood (1988: 96) notes that Cicero uses perditus to associate the destitute “with the morally evil and profligate.”

Lepidus (recepi), he gave surety;253 the destruction of Antony is referred to rather starkly as negotium (business). My point here is not to imply that Plancus meant to imbue unambiguously the language of his letter with stark financial implications; rather, I am trying to document how the moral, political, and economic discourses in Rome are entwined and woven into the structure of the Latin language (or, at least, the dialect that

Cicero and his cohort spoke). Politics and morality always had financial dimensions, and it was fides that lay at the heart of these overlapping discourses and economies.

III Epistolary Economics 101

By teasing out the moral, political, and economic discourses entangled and embedded in the rhetoric of Plancus’ letter to Cicero regarding Lepidus’ defection, it is possible to draw a number of conclusions about the social materiality of the epistula in the aristocratic society of republican Rome. First, I believe that we can now begin to articulate in a more nuanced fashion how the holograph functions within the epistolary economy and interacts with the commercial economy. A Roman aristocrat’s fides was not an innate quality, but something that he gained through demonstration of the alignment between his actions and his words. In practice, this fact meant that Roman aristocrats put up their fides as collateral in every social transaction. Every interaction between aristocrats had the inherent potential to strengthen or weaken someone’s standing within the community. In epistolary transactions of an autographed nature, however, the possible threat to an aristocrat’s fides was even more acute since there was a

253 Cf. L&S 2.B.B (“a favorite word of Cic., esp. in his Epistles”). We often find recipio in dyads or triads with promitto, comfirmo, or spondeo in the Letters, in contexts that straddle the economic and symbolic economies. For example, Cicero guarantees a commendatus’ character to Sulpicius Rufus thus: spondebo enim tibi vel potius spondeo in meque recipio eos esse M. Curii mores eamque quum probitatem, tum etiam humanitatem, ut eum et amicitia tua et tam accurata commendatione, si tibi sit cognitus, dignum sis existimaturus (Fam. 13.17 = SB 283). Cicero here, in effect, is stipulating to the value of symbolic capital.

papyrus trail. As with contracts, a man’s statements and promises were written down for all to see, while the inscription in the author’s hand vouchsafed his agreement to the contents of the document and his own investment in this relationship. Thus, if an elite epistolographer did not live up to the explicit promises in the epistle or the implicit promise of benevolentia (which the autographed epistula represented), these shortcomings could be serious since they could impair one or many of his amicitiae, and thus lessen the epistolographer’s standing within the community and thereby downgrade his fides. A holograph was, then, functionally similar to a contract (as is neatly captured in the term chirographum): if the epistle’s promises were not fulfilled, there were economic consequences since impairment of fides (and therefore amicitia) restricted access to all forms of capital.

Such an economic model of epistolography centered on the concept of fides may help us explain further the motivations (and failures) of Antony’s action with Cicero’s missive, which we examined in the last chapter. It seems that on some occasions the gulf between an aristocrat’s words and his actions could become so large that the letter-writer might not only forfeit fides, but also the epistula itself.254 This entailment would explain why Plancus felt that he could send these chirographa back to Rome, presumably for public exhibition of Lepidus’ dual public and private treachery. Yet when Antony attempted a similar public display, because he felt that Cicero’s words and actions were at extreme odds, Cicero ridiculed him for acting contrary to the spirit of humanitas.

Nonetheless, Plancus could publically exhibit Lepidus’ epistulae with impunity, in full

254 It should be noted that although Cicero and his correspondents often forwarded copies (exempla) of letters to each other, the forwarding of the actual letter was a rare event, usually accompanied by reference to some feature of the physical letter perceived to be hermeneutically significant. See Att. 12.21.1 = SB 260, 12.34.1 = SB 273, and 13.47a.1 = SB 352.

view of Cicero no less. Plancus could act thus because he (unlike Antony) actually understood how the symbolic economy of epistolography functioned. Plancus recognized that epistulae represented a social space in which the Roman elite exchanged symbolic capital (as represented by the holograph) and, thereby, ratified each other’s social station and worldview. In contrast, Lepidus and Antony (a pair of perditi) seem to have perceived epistles as an avenue for immediate financial enrichment or as a tactical weapon. Plancus sent the epistula itself back precisely because both the linguistic and material content of this letter stood in opposition to Lepidus’ actions in terms of an aristocrat’s value system, whereas, Antony read only Cicero’s words and not his entire message. If Antony had had the capacity to read Cicero’s tota epistula, he would have realized that Cicero’s fides in relation to his epistolary transaction with Antony remained intact since there was no gulf between Cicero’s message (in both its material and linguistic aspects) and actions. Since Cicero had promised very little to Antony, Cicero successfully husbanded his fides. If anything, it was Antony’s fides that was damaged in this affair since he impaired the ‘confiance mutuelle,’ which he enjoyed, by his uncalled- for exhibition of Cicero’s epistle.

Lepidus’ defection to Antony prompted a similar dispute over fides and placed the holograph at the center of this fight. Thus, in the fallout from this betrayal, we see

Plancus actively trying to destabilize Lepidus’ credit rating in Rome by assembling a dossier of letters to be sent back to urbs, which would documentarily prove Lepidus’ general perfidy. If Plancus succeeded in demonstrating that Lepidus’ holographs were at odds with his actions, Lepidus would lose much of his fides and could find himself one of the perditi. Moreover, Plancus needed to “foreclose” upon Lepidus because the

soundness of his own fides was connected with the insolvency of Lepidus’. To prove his fides and validate his claim to be a bonus vir, Plancus needed to prove that any odd or untrustworthy behavior on his part was a result of his misguided trust in Lepidus’ holographs and Laterensis’ insistence (something which Laterensis now repents with his dying breath). Both Plancus and Lepidus put up their fides in this epistolary transaction; however, since matters between them had gone so horribly wrong, only one could emerge with their fides intact. In order to come off the victor of this dispute, Plancus marshalled the best proof of Lepidus’ lack of fides – his chirographa. Through these documents,

Plancus hoped to convince Cicero and the other patres conscripti at Rome not only that

Lepidus could not be trusted since he was not a true aristocrat, but also that his own mistakes only derived from his naivety in putting his faith in such a man.

More importantly, Plancus’ dispatch of these chirographa back to Rome thus suggests that this ideology of the epistolary economy stretched beyond Cicero (or

Plancus), since Plancus believed that further circulation of these letters would be of benefit to him and his fides. As we have witnessed throughout this letter, Plancus frames

Lepidus’ epistolary action as contrary to aristocratic value in rhetorical maneuvers that are very similar to Cicero’s operations in the second Philippic. This similarity should not be surprising. Scholars have often noted that Plancus had a talent for picking up his correspondent’s rhetoric and reflecting it.255 Indeed, our earlier discussion may partially illuminate how Plancus was able to navigate successfully the troubled times between the death of Caesar and the consecration of Augustus. Plancus had a certain ingenuity – the ability to say the right words to the right people when he found himself in an awkward

255 Hall (2009: 188) and White (2010: 158).

situation. More germane to our purposes, however, is the fact that Plancus' desire for these holographs to receive a wider circulation suggests that Plancus believed that other aristocrats would judge them in a similar fashion and within a similar paradigm (i.e. a symbolic economy). Taken together with Cicero’s portrayal of Antony’s inhumane handling of epistles, Plancus’ strategy strongly implies that this ‘economic’ model for republican epistolography, which I have constructed over the course of these two chapters, extended beyond Cicero’s (or Plancus’) worldview, since each presumed that other aristocrats would share their understanding of the matter.

IV White Collar Epistolography

If Plancus’ epistle frames epistolography as an economy in theory, then Caelius’ letters to Cicero, the proconsul of Cilicia at the time, further demonstrate that the Roman practice of letter-writing worked very much as a marketplace in practice, with economic capital being exchanged for epistolary favors. An unusual set of circumstances and political reforms resulted in Cicero assuming the governorship of Cilicia for 51 BC. This secondment to the East was something of a disaster for a Roman (in the urban sense) such as Cicero, who considered Rome to be the world’s fulcrum.256 As a result, letters assumed an even more significant role in Cicero’s life. By these epistles, Cicero maintained relationships and received the news from the urbs.257 For this latter activity,

Cicero had asked his former protégé, M. Caelius Rufus, to keep him up-to-date on political developments.258 Caelius could not refuse Cicero, especially since Cicero had

256 Cf. Fam. 2.12.2 = SB 95: urbem, urbem, mi Rufe, cole et in ista luce vive! omnis peregrinatio, quod ego ab adulescentia iudicavi, obscura et sordida est iis quorum industria Romae potest illustris esse. 257 White (1997) notes that the acta of Caesar, the supposed newsletter of events at Rome, only would have encompassed the posting of public business on notice boards. 258 On Caelius the epistolographer, see the introduction to the third volume of T.-P. (XXXIV-LV and CI- CIX), Antoine (1894: 51-77) and Becker (1888). Although Caelius is commonly assumed to be another dissolute Caesarian, Rosivach (1981) and Cordier (1994) both demonstrate persuasively that his support of

fairly recently defended him on a murder charge.259 Nonetheless, Caelius appears to have found the potential scope of this task cumbersome and attempted to limit the extent of his personal involvement as a source of news for Cicero. He writes:

auod tibi discedens pollicitus sum me omnes res urbanas diligentissime tibi perscripturum, data opera paravi, qui sic omnia persequeretur, ut verear, ne tibi nimium arguta haec sedulitas videatur. tametsi tu scio quam sis curiosus et quam omnibus peregrinantibus gratum sit minimarum quoque rerum, quae domi gerantur, fieri certiores, tamen in hoc te deprecor, ne meum hoc officium arrogantiae condemnes, quod hunc laborem alteri delegavi, non quin mihi suavissimum sit et occupato et ad litteras scribendas, ut tu nosti, pigerrimo tuae memoriae dare operam, sed ipsum volumen, quod tibi misi, facile, ut ego arbitror, me excusat. nescio cuius otii esset non modo perscribere haec, sed omnino animadvertere; omnia enim sunt ibi senatus consulta edicta, fabulae rumores; quod exemplum si forte minus te delectarit, ne molestiam tibi cum impensa mea exhibeam, fac me certiorem. si quid in re publica maius actum erit, quod isti operarii minus commode persequi possint, et quemadmodum actum sit et quae existimatio secuta quaeque de eo spes sit, diligenter tibi ipsi perscribemus. (Fam. 8.1.1-2 = SB 77).

In regards to my promise when I was taking my leave from you that I would most carefully detail to you all the affairs in the capital, I have taken pains to arrange for someone to describe everything in such a way so that I fear that this carefulness may seem to you rather excessive. Although I am aware how inquisitive you are and how delightful a thing it is for all men abroad to become informed of the least consequential affairs that occur at home, I beg your pardon, however, on this point – please don’t accuse me of showing disregard for you in this service, given the fact that I have assigned this undertaking to another. Not that it’s not the most charming thing for me (although I am both busy and, as you know, most lax at my correspondence) to give attention to your memory, but the scroll itself that I sent you easily excuses me, I think. It would have required considerable free time not only to write out these things, but even to look them over. For everything is there – decrees of the senate, edicts, stories, rumors. By chance, if this transcript is not completely pleasing, let me know lest I provide you annoyance at my own expense! If anything truly important happens in the realm of politics, something which those scribes can less aptly treat, I will attentively describe to you both how it happened and what opinion followed, and what expectation there is about it.

Caesar was always tenuous and motivated more by prior amicitiae and inimicitiae than by loyalty to Caesar or financial need. 259 On the Pro Caelio, see Alexander (2002: 218-243).

Cicero himself acquiesced to Caelius’ arrangement of affairs and suggested that all he really desired of Caelius was his analysis of how political affairs would develop.260

Nevertheless, Caelius’ initial anxiety about how Cicero would interpret the division of labor in these documents confirms the economics of epistolography, which we have already seen, particularly in Cicero’s correspondence with Trebatius.

Caelius’ apprehension appears to stem from an anxiety regarding how Cicero might interpret his outsourcing of the production of these reports. As Caelius notes, the task of keeping Cicero informed about quotidian affairs required much free time (nescio quoius oti) not only (non modo) to produce such reports, but much time even (sed omnino) to look over (animadvertere) content produced by others.261 The division of the physical and mental labor involved in generating these reports is telling.262 Caelius envisions two scenarios in which he would be involved personally in the production of these reports: either he personally authors these reports himself, or he proofreads and corrects reports produced by scribes. Caelius rejected both these options. Instead,

Caelius delegated the task entirely to an unnamed third party; nevertheless, Caelius worries that Cicero will take umbrage at the fact that Caelius has arranged for a scribe- for-hire (cum impensa mea) to copy out the news from the capital. Caelius’ precise concern is that Cicero will accuse him of arrogantia for outsourcing this volumen’s production and that Cicero will construe it as a sign of Caelius’ disregard for him and

260 Fam. 2.8.1 = SB 80: quid? tu me hoc tibi mandasse existimas ut mihi gladiatorum compositiones, ut vadimonia dilata et Chresti compilationem mitteres et ea quae nobis cum Romae sumus narrare nemo audeat? It has sometimes been supposed that Cicero is revealing here that a Chrestus was the actual scribe of these reports; see Schneider (1998: 450-451) and also L&S, which cites this passage as “compilation,” a sense which does not develop until late antiquity (cf. Hathaway 1989: 22). Given the tricolon structure, it seems clear that Cicero is actually referring to some burglary of Chrestus. SB and T.-P. both agree on this point. 261 On these two modes of production for such reports, see Richards (1991: 52). 262 Richards (1991: 52) is clearly wrong in assuming that Caelius’ explicit reference to his effort in acquiring a scribe and the cost of that scribe indicates that there was a shortage of workers for such tasks.

their friendship (ne meum hoc officium arrogantiae condemnes).263 Caelius attempts to preempt such an accusation of arrogantia by positioning this task of keeping Cicero up- to-date on the acta urbis as something which was incongruent not only with his own social standing, but also with the kind of relationship that he had with Cicero.

If Caelius were to compose all these reports personally, this very act could be perceived as unbefitting Caelius’ rank and therefore damaging to his social standing.

While an autographed letter was usually an important feature of elite correspondence for a variety of sociocultural reasons as I have discussed, Roman elites did need to be careful about when and how they bestowed their autograph. The reports that Cicero desired contained an account of so great a number of urban affairs that Caelius worries that their contents may be overwhelming (arguta) for Cicero; that is to say, these voluminous reports are simply that – voluminous reports. They are immense transcriptions of events without much analysis. As a rule, Romans delegated such laborious and mechanical production of texts to a certain class of people, and Caelius was certainly not a member of this class.264 In a letter to another of his correspondents, Cicero was clear that the production of such texts was the responsibility of domestici scriptores and nuntii.265

There is, of course, a similarity here with Trebatius’ epistolary behavior, which I discussed in the last chapter. Trebatius produced nearly identical epistles that verged too

263 For arrogantia (“the quality of claiming more than properly belongs to one, more than one truly deserves”), see Baraz (2008: 367-372). 264 See McDonnell (1996) who discusses the inherent class politics of when and how a Roman aristocrat wrote documents sua manu. Birt (1907: 204-205) notes that there is only one pictorial example from the Roman world which shows someone actually writing a text. Sirat (2006: 77) has reiterated Birt’s point more recently. 265 Cf. Fam. 2.4.1 = SB 48 to D. Curio: epistularum genera multa esse non ignoras sed unum illud certissimum, cuius causa inventa res ipsa est, ut certiores faceremus absentis si quid esset quod eos scire aut nostra aut ipsorum interesset. Huius generis litteras a me profecto non exspectas. tuarum enim rerum domesticos habes et scriptores et nuntios, in meis autem rebus nihil est sane novi. On the exploitation of such information by Roman patroni, see Laurence (1994).

closely upon the work of a slave scribe, and Cicero attempted to correct Trebatius’ epistolary behavior before these objects became too damaging to his social standing.

Likewise, Caelius needed to be careful about how his autograph circulates. A holograph, when it was a private letter, was a valuable and potent object for members of the Roman elite to exchange; however, if his production of a holograph (or any text) seems too akin to scribal labor, an aristocrat may lose standing in the eyes of his social cohort.

Caelius seems aware of the potential danger of overproducing his autograph, and thus he subtly suggests to Cicero that a division of labor needs to be maintained when it comes to textual productions. Hence, when Caelius begs Cicero not to think less of him for delegating this commission, there is an interesting shift in the designation of this task from an officium when he writes from Cicero’s viewpoint (condemnes) to a labor when he speaks from his own viewpoint (delegavi). Interestingly, Caelius also refers to the eventual textual product as either a volumen or an exemplum. Volumen represents the most neutral term that Caelius could use since it designates a bare scroll.266 Everything is a scroll for the Romans, until a volumen transforms into something else depending on its content (e.g. a liber, if it involves a literary or philosophical work). This scroll remains curiously undifferentiated in Caelius’ account, at least until he later designates it an exemplum; yet an exemplum is simply a copy of something else and that is the problem: to copy out these consulta, edicta, fabulae, rumoresque is the work of scribae or operarii.267 Thus, Caelius proposes an alternative to Cicero: he will occasionally add analysis of particular items of intelligence (si quid in re publica maius actum erit), since scribes are not well suited to this analytical task (quod isti operarii minus commode

266 So the OLD gives “a roll of papyrus” or “a book in any form.” Antoine (1894: 73) interprets it as “paquet de lettres.” T.-P. similarly reads it as “packet.” 267 OLD 9.

persequi possint). Here Caelius is explicit about the fact that different tasks are appropriate to individuals of different classes. The production and compilation of such reports are menial chores that properly belong to clients and freelance laborers, and certainly not to Roman aristocrats. Although Cicero may have conceived of this task as some sort of officium, Caelius cannot be expected to write such reports, since this task falls beyond the acceptable parameters of behavior for a member of the republican elite.

Yet Caelius not only refuses to write such texts, but even declines to proofread the output of the scribe. I would suggest that Caelius rejects even this form of participation because this mode of production would be incongruent with the type of epistolary relationship which Caelius imagines that he enjoys with Cicero. The process of dictating and then proofreading these reports (or simply proofreading independent scribal work) sounds suspiciously similar to the methodology of a provincial governor in his official and bureaucratic correspondence. This was the practice that Cicero advised his brother,

Quintus, when he was governor in Asia, to undertake in order to manage his official correspondence.268 Caelius’ letters to Cicero, however, seem calculated to be read as items of a personal correspondence given their informal style and the bare inscriptiones, which Caelius appends to the beginning of these epistulae.269 Moreover, Caelius’ reference to the otium that was needed for such proofreading is telling, since it suggests that Caelius sees his correspondence with Cicero in opposition to negotium. Caelius has already noted that writing a letter to Cicero provides a pleasant respite from his busy schedule (non quin mihi suavissimum sit et occupato). This method of textual

268 For Quintus’ use of scribes and exemplars to conduct business while he served as propraetor of Asia, see Q. Fr. 1.2.3 = SB 2. 269 For an evaluation of Caelius’ language, see Pinkster (2010) and see White (2010: 69-70) on the significance of inscriptiones.

production, then, involving dictation and proofreading, was unlikely to have appealed to

Caelius because it could frame his relationship with Cicero as an administrative and bureaucratic one. For his own reasons (which I will discuss shortly), Caelius needed to maintain this relationship as a personal and private one, governed by the traditional rules for such interpersonal relations among members of the Roman elite.

By declining any involvement in the production of these reports, Caelius has managed to construct his own correspondence with Cicero as a personalized ‘white collar’ form of epistolography (where he provides Cicero with certain analyses of important intelligence), which exists in opposition to the purchased ‘blue-collar’ epistolography of the operarii. This division of epistolary labor corresponds to the larger partition in Roman society between the symbolic and commercial economies. By offering such analyses (apparently written in his own hand),270 Caelius tenders material proof of his respect and goodwill towards Cicero; that is, he offers an investment of symbolic capital in their relationship. Moreover, from this perspective it is clear why

Caelius was so explicit about the financial cost, which this arrangement to provide Cicero with these transcripts entails. By being so unambiguous about the economic expense of these transcripts, Caelius removes the production of these texts from the symbolic economy, while simultaneously situating his analyses within a transaction of symbolic capital.271 Caelius’ analyses are, in fact, something that money cannot buy. Caelius may

270 Although Caelius may not have written his epistulae to Cicero entirely by hand, he seems to have personally authored the key bits of news, or so I infer. For example, on the topic of Curio’s switch to partisan of Caesar (cf. Fam. 8.6.5 = SB 88), Cicero writes in reply to Caelius: extrema pagella pupugit me tuo chirographo. quid ais? Caesarem nunc defendit Curio? quis hoc putaret, praeter me? (Fam. 2.13.3 = SB 93). 271 Contra Richard’s (1991: 51) conclusions about why Caelius is so explicit about the cost of these transcripts.

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arrange for the services of a scriba for these transcripts and Cicero may have operarii in the urbs, but only Caelius (a fellow aristocrat) can provide such insightful assessments.

What Caelius is actually accomplishing with this letter, then, is the establishment of the parameters for what will constitute an officium (an investment of symbolic capital) in his epistolary relationship with Cicero. Since Cicero is departing for Cilicia, this exchange of papyri will define their relationship for the foreseeable future. In Caelius’ view, his duty to his friend Cicero during this period involves relaying pertinent details and analyses of certain important events and not wholesale narration of daily political proceedings and gossip. Caelius regards such contributions (presumably done in his own hand) as his true officium, in that it involves expenditure of his own special talent for understanding politics, in contrast with the blue-collar task of mechanically copying acta omnia. Indeed, by explicitly mentioning the cost of those reports, Caelius has pushed them outside of the sphere of the symbolic economy of amicitia. While it is unclear whether this arrangement is what Cicero wanted all along or whether Cicero simply acquiesced to Caelius’ version of their epistolary relationship, Cicero did give his approval. Cicero graciously notes that no one is πολιτικώτερος than Caelius,272 and he wishes for such assessments from Caelius for this very reason.273 Moreover, Cicero specifically responds to Caelius’ worry that Cicero might condemn him for this act: neque tamen adhuc habeo quod te accusem (Fam. 2.8.2 = SB 80). Thus, it appears that

Caelius and Cicero have come to a mutually satisfactory arrangement as to what will constitute the transaction of symbolic capital in their epistolary relationship.

272 So Cicero tells Caelius: futura exspecto, ut ex tuis litteris, cum formam rei publicae viderim, quale aedificium futurum sit scire possim (Fam. 2.8.1 = SB 80). 273 Hutchinson (1998: 142) believes that Cicero wanted these reports since Caelius was able to imbue these reports with some wit.

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V Epistolary Exchange Rates

There still remains the question of why it was so important to Caelius to create these regulations in the market of epistolography. Obviously, as I have suggested,

Caelius finds the prospect of producing these commentaria rerum urbanarum to be a task unbecoming of and potentially threatening to his status. Moreover, we should not overlook the simple fact that Caelius may just be eager to recuse himself from this task due to its toilsome nature. After all, Caelius openly admits that he is somewhat lax in his epistolary habits (ad litteras scribendas, ut tu nosti, pigerrimo). Yet there is also a very pragmatic, self-interested reason for Caelius’ behavior.

The enjoyment of Cicero’s goodwill was a not a trivial matter for Caelius, since he seems to have intended to exploit Cicero’s position of authority in Cilicia to his own advantage. In particular, Caelius wanted Cicero to give attention to two pieces of business that pertained to Caelius’ interests: first, there was the syngrapha Sittiana, which

Caelius had recommended to Cicero on several occasions;274 and second, Caelius also hoped that Cicero would import panthers for certain games, which Caelius was administrating as aedile.275 Although much is unclear about this syngrapha Sittiana,276 it does seem that Caelius had a financial stake in the recovery of funds from this syngrapha since he notes how much this syngrapha pertinet ad se.277 Similarly, Caelius’ success at managing these games, which apparently depended on the panthers’ appearance, would

274 Fam. 8.2.2 = SB 78, 8.4.5 = SB 81, 8.8.10 = SB 84, and 8.9.3 = SB 82. 275 Fam. 8.2.2 = SB 78, 8.4.5 = SB 81, 8.6.5 = SB 88, and 8.9.5 = SB 82. See also Cicero in reply, Fam. 2.9.2 = SB 85. 276 Ioannatou (2006: 326) believes that Caelius is the true backer of the loan and thus is concerned with its recovery. Früchtl (1912: 103-104) suggests that the exile P. Sittius has signed over this contract to Caelius in order to pay a debt, but Hollander (2007: 48) casts doubts on such possibility. On Sittius, see Heurgon (1950). 277 On two occasions, Caelius refers to how much this syngrapha pertinet ad se (Fam. 8.4.5 = SB 81 and 8.8.10 = SB 84).

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also increase his access to the various forms of capital. Thus, we can begin to understand why it was important for Caelius to set the ground rules for his epistolary relationship with Cicero and to establish that he was properly discharging his duties (officia) within a framework of amicitia. In order to obtain these services from Cicero, Caelius himself will have had to have properly discharged his own debts to Cicero.

Therefore, it does not seem to be a coincidence that Caelius’ regular calls for

Cicero’s attention to these matters follow his own autographed analyses of political events. 278 Caelius was quite overt about the quid pro quo underlying their correspondence, bartering these analyses for favors from Cicero, the governor of Cilicia; that is, these two aristocrats exchanged officia, forms of symbolic capital that could be converted into economic capital. Moreover, Caelius employed in these appeals for

Cicero’s aid the formulaic language (velim, rogo, commendo),279 which Romans typically used in such ritualized institutions as patronage and commendationes.280 Caelius’ use of this sort of language further suggests that he viewed his analyses as functioning within the parameters of amicitia (and thus within the exchanges of such capital). Hence, it should be now evident why Caelius took care that this correspondence would fall within the correct parameters of amicitia and also why he took care to define what constituted proper officia in their friendship. Caelius planned to follow up (in practice, often immediately) his services to Cicero with a request for a favor in return. What we witness, then, is the conversion of symbolic capital, which a holograph represents, into economic

278 Each occasion on which Caelius mentioned this syngrapha followed his political report and analysis (Fam. 8.2.2 = SB 78, 8.4.5 = SB 81, and 8.9.3 = SB 82). 279 Supra. 280 Verboven (2002: 287-323).

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capital; that is, an epistula can become a syngrapha – just as it did with Cicero’s other protégé, Trebatius.

Yet in contrast to Trebatius’ situation, Caelius’ rather obvious desire to advance his own financial situation does not appear to earn a rebuke from Cicero, at least as far as these letters demonstrate. Caelius would seem to be playing a dangerous game since these types of exchanges in the symbolic economy traditionally function most smoothly when a sufficient delay in the reciprocal favor occurs so that the inherent self-interest in the initial favor is less apparent.281 Nonetheless, it is important to remember that

Trebatius only enjoyed Caesar’s favor at Cicero’s request, and therefore his behavior was a reflection on Cicero’s judgment (and was tied to Cicero’s reserves of symbolic capital).

In contrast, if Cicero had rebuked Caelius for appearing to desire financial rewards more than the pleasure of Cicero’s company, this criticism likely would have given offense to

Caelius. Cicero would not want to damage his relationship with Caelius. Moreover, although he treats his services as ultimately exchangeable for certain favors (with certain economic advantages for himself), Caelius never explicitly acts as if the epistula has an independent economic value. On the other hand, Trebatius threatened to reveal this fact by failing to pay his debts of symbolic capital, while still expecting a financial reward.

Caelius avoids this faux pas by first negotiating the going rate of exchange with Cicero, and then making his payments of symbolic capital (his analyses) to Cicero before requesting a favor in return. Thus, although we again see epistulae become syngraphae, or something that can be quickly exchanged for a syngrapha, Caelius appears safe from

281 Beasley-Murray (2000: 107) comments: “The economy of symbolic capital […] depends upon the intervention of time to be effective – time that separates discrete practices, allows room for strategy, and enables the nature of the exchange to be misrecognized.” On the circulation of symbolic capital in general, see Bourdieu (1990: 112-121).

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admonishment by Cicero because he observes what appears to be the one true imperative of this economy of letters: draw as little attention as possible to the interaction of the epistolary economy with the financial economy.

Conclusions

My analysis of the correspondence of Plancus and Caelius with Cicero has provided us with greater details about the inner workings of the symbolic economy of epistolography and how this economy interacted with the political and financial economies. Just as we saw with Cicero in the last chapter, Plancus firmly constructs epistolary exchanges as economic in logic and accords a holograph (when exchanged between aristocrats) a greater value in this symbolic economy. More significantly,

Plancus also demonstrates how epistolography functions in the model of an economy.

The moral, political, and financial economies were intimately interlinked in Rome.

One’s social standing was intimately connected with one’s financial standing, and the

Roman concept of fides reflected this multifaceted expression of ‘credit.’ In each social, political, and financial transaction, the Roman aristocrat put up his fides as collateral for his good behavior. In the social (or symbolic) economy of epistolography, holographs would obviously have more value – and more risk – due to the author’s greater personal involvement (or investment). Since the trust and confidence that one inspired in the larger community was also one’s ‘credit rating,’ duplicitous epistolary behavior could have economic consequences for a malus correspondent. Thus, it should come as no surprise that Plancus refracts epistolography through the language and ideology of economics, since these were not truly separate discourses for Romans. The personal was political and economic.

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Although he was far less overt about the economic ideology that informs his epistolary transactions, Caelius offered further demonstration of the economic nature of elite republican epistolography by illustrating how it could function as an economy in practice. We witness Caelius in his letters negotiating his epistolary officia toward

Cicero. Cicero and Caelius agree that it is his duty to provide his autographed analyses of political events to Cicero, but not to provide reports on daily political maneuvering.

Having established this as the ‘exchange rate,’ Caelius is careful to maintain his credit rating (his fides) in this economy. Thus, although Caelius asks on several occasions for

Cicero’s attention to two pieces of business, which will have a salutary effect on Caelius’ financial status, Caelius always prefaces such requests by providing his own autographed analyses of key political events. That is to say, Caelius is asking for a return on his own investment of symbolic capital in his relationship with Cicero; however, Caelius makes sure that the ledger of accounts between him and Cicero is balanced (and thus that his fides is secure) before making such demands. In short, both of these epistolographers demonstrate that Roman epistolography at this time truly did function as an economy of letters.

Chapter Three: Atticus and the Business of Letter-Writing

We come now to discuss Atticus the epistolographer, and the circle closes itself.

Many pages ago, I postponed a discussion of Atticus’ handwriting practices in his correspondence with Cicero in order to the scrutinize more productively the meaning of handwriting within Cicero’s other epistolary relations, without the additional burden of factoring Cicero and Atticus’ amicitia into these equations. Yet this omission has been a fairly obvious lacuna in my discussions up until this point. Throughout his life, Cicero’s closest and most important friend was the wealthy eques, T. Pomponius (Caecilius)282

Atticus.283 In addition to the testimony of Cornelius Nepos, sixteen books of letters to

Atticus in the Letters affirm the vitality and longevity of Cicero and Atticus’ relationship.284 Cicero and Atticus have, in fact, become something of a paradigm for studies of friendship in the Roman world,285 – an impression that Cicero actively fostered in his own lifetime by his dedication of a philosophical tract on friendship (Laelius de

282 Atticus was born simply T. Pomponius. He received the cognomen Atticus due to his long stay in Athens. In 58 BC, his uncle, Q. Caecilius, adopted him (Nep. Att. 5). While Cicero still refers to him by his earlier name after his adoption, Varro addresses him by what would be his adopted name (Caecilius) in De re rustica from 37 BC (2.2.2). Nepos refers to him as T. Pomponius Atticus in his biography (1.1), as have subsequent historians. For the genealogy of Atticus’ name, see Perlwitz (1992: 58-59) and Jones (1999: 91). 283 Cf. Nep. Att. 5: erat nupta soror Attici Q. Tullio Ciceroni, easque nuptias M. Cicero conciliarat, cum quo a condiscipulatu vivebat coniunctissime, multo etiam familiarius quam cum Quinto, ut iudicari possit plus in amicitia valere similitudinem morum quam affinitatem. For Atticus’ life in general, see Cornelius Nepos’ biography (which I discuss shortly), Feger’s (1984) RE entry, and Perlwitz’s (1992) biography. 284 The usual caveats apply concerning what is collected in the Ad Atticum. On the organization of the collection Ad Atticum, see Beard (2002) and White (2010: 31-62). 285 Cf. Brunt (1988) and Konstan (1997: 124-131), who uses Cicero’s relationship with Atticus as a foil for Cicero’s other lesser amicitiae. See also Boissier’s (1922: 123-157) treatment of Atticus as an expert practitioner of amicitia. Habinek (1990: 179) observes that Cicero treats Atticus, an eques, as an amicus of equal status; in contrast, Leach (1993: 18-20) believes that Atticus’ status (and disengagement with public life) causes him to fall short of Cicero’s ideal of friendship.

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amicitia) to Atticus.286 Cicero and Atticus are very much the fons from which our notions of affective Roman friendship spring.287

I did not discuss Atticus earlier primarily because Cicero and Atticus’ famous relationship can often overpower our interpretation of the evidence in the Letters with the result that we conform our conclusions to fit what we think we know about Atticus and

Cicero’s friendship rather than using that evidence to ameliorate our understanding of the relations between these two prominent members of the Roman elite. An example of just such a tendency is the traditional scholarly belief that Atticus and Cicero’s nearly exclusive exchange of holographs indicates that friends always wrote to each other by hand. As we have seen, however, the politics of the material letter are far more complex.

The distinction between modes of production for a letter (autograph versus dictation) does not simply and only substantiate amicitia; rather, it helped to construct a binary opposition between private and public discourse, which roughly aligns with the opposition between the symbolic and commercial economies. Given this disjuncture between how I have construed personalized handwriting in Cicero’s epistulae and how scholarship has previously interpreted it in regard to Cicero and Atticus’ correspondence, it is important to take a renewed look at the original evidence within the Ad Atticum collection. Such a revaluation will not only complicate and deepen our understanding of

Cicero and Atticus’ relationship, but will help also to illuminate the often shadowy figure of Atticus and his role in Roman politics and business. Indeed, I will argue that Atticus’ material epistolary practices are paradigmatic of his general modus vivendi, which itself

286 Cic. Amic. 4: cum enim saepe mecum ageres ut de amicitia scriberem aliquid, digna mihi res cum omnium cognitione tum nostra familiaritate visa est. 287 There is a constant tension in studies of amicitia in the Roman world about whether to read this social institution’s purpose as primarily psychological/affective or pragmatic. Cf. n. 284.

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is subsumed within his commercial activities and larger business strategy. As we shall see, Atticus adroitly and subtly manipulates the various symbolic economies of republican Rome (including the epistolary economy) for financial advantage, with the holograph just one part of this larger strategy.

I Pen Pals

At first glance into the testimony of Cicero’s epistles to Atticus, scholars would seem to have been correct to judge a holograph as indicative of amicitia in general and evidence of the great depth of Cicero and Atticus’ friendship in particular. For this conclusion, one letter from 59 BC assumes distinct importance. Cicero writes:

numquam ante arbitror te epistulam meam legisse nisi mea manu scriptam. ex eo colligere poteris quanta occupatione distinear. nam cum vacui temporis nihil haberem, et cum recreandae voculae causa necesse esset mihi ambulare, haec dictavi ambulans. (Att. 2.23.1 = SB 43)

Never before do I think that you have read a letter of mine, unless it was written in my hand. You can gather from that how busy I am. Thus, since both I did not have a moment to spare and I needed to take a stroll in order to restore my voice, I dictated these things while walking.

This passage represents the first instance where Cicero apologizes to Atticus for dictating litterae; Cicero continues to make such apologies whenever he is forced either by his workload or by ocular distress to use a librarius in composing his letters.288 The conclusion that ensues from this statement (and other similar ones) is somewhat startling.

Based upon the corpus of the Letters, we know that Cicero and Atticus had exchanged letters for ten years at least; moreover, if Nepos can be trusted, this relationship preceded

288 Att. 2.20.5 = SB 40; 4.16.1 = SB 89; 5.14.1 = SB 107; 5.17.1 = SB 110; 8.12.1 = SB 162; Q.Fr. 2.2.1 = SB 6; 2.15.1 = SB 19; 3.3.1 = SB 23. On Cicero’s excuses for a dictated letter, see Guillaumont (2006: 99- 100).

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our epistolary records by at least another decade.289 Atticus and Cicero then seem to have corresponded sua manu exclusively for two decades and possibly longer. Only towards the end of his life does it appear that Cicero could indulge in the practice of dictating letters to Atticus (apparently due to ill health) without apology.290 Scholars interpret this modification in etiquette as further proof of the intimacy of their friendship, since they have transcended such social rules in their old age.291 Their friendship no longer requires regular maintenance via holograph. In the traditional scholarly narrative, the mode of production for the epistulae ad Atticum becomes in every respect indicative of the great personal affection between Cicero and Atticus.

Yet this conclusion very much derives its basis from Cicero’s own rhetoric, which actively fostered and encouraged the impression that the mode of production for an epistle was symptomatic of the strength of that relationship. For example, in a letter of

October 15th, 50 BC, Cicero wrote to Atticus:

in Piraeea cum exissem pridie Idus Octobr., accepi ab Acasto servo meo statim tuas litteras. quas quidem cum exspectassem iam diu, admiratus sum, ut vidi obsignatam epistulam, brevitatem eius, ut aperui, rursus σύγχυσιν litterularum, quia solent tuae compositissimae et clarissimae esse, ac, ne multa, cognovi ex eo quod ita scripseras te Romam venisse a. d. xii Kal. Oct. cum febri. percussus vehementer nec magis quam debui, statim quaero ex Acasto. ille et tibi et sibi visum et ita se domi ex tuis audisse ut nihil esset incommode. id videbatur approbare quod erat in extremo, febriculam tum te habentem scripsisse. sed te amavi tamen admiratusque sum quod nihilo minus ad me tua manu scripsisses. (Att. 6.9 = SB 123)

289 The earliest letter to Atticus is generally believed to be either Att. 1.5 = SB 1 or 1.6 = SB 2, which are dated to 68 BC; see SB ad loc. for the debate over their order. Nepos (Att. 1 and 5) implies that their friendship went back to adolescence (pueritia and condiscipulatu). See Shackleton Bailey’s (1965: 3-5) introduction to his commentary for discussion of Cicero and Atticus’ early friendship. 290 E.g. Att. 15.20.4 = SB 397 and Att. 16.15.1 = SB 426. 291 Shackleton Bailey (1980: 12) and Guillaumont (2006: 106).

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was surprised at your messy writing, which is accustomed to be most regular and precise. To be brief, I learned from the fact that you had written in this manner that you had come to Rome on September 19th with a fever. Having been greatly alarmed (no more than I ought to be!), I at once questioned Acastus. He said that it seemed to both you and him (and so he had heard from your people at home) that it was nothing serious. This statement at the very end of your letter seemed to confirm that you were writing while having a slight fever. Yet it roused my gratitude and my astonishment that you had nonetheless written to me with your own hand.

Or there is this other example, soon after the previous epistle, from November 50BC:

venio ad epistulas tuas; quas ego sescentas uno tempore accepi, aliam alia iucundiorem, quae quidem erant tua manu. nam Alexidis manum amabam quod tam prope accedebat ad similitudinem tuae, litteras non amabam quod indicabant te non valere. (Att. 7.2.3 = SB 125)

I come to your letters, which I received en masse at one occasion. Each was more enjoyable than the previous – those, that is, which were in your hand. While I do have affection for Alexis’ handwriting given that it comes so close to an approximation of yours, I do not love his letters given that they were indicating you are unwell.

In each of these passages, Cicero is making clear what a holograph means to him: amor.

He loves (amavi) Atticus for writing to him sua manu despite his fever. Cicero even loves Alexis, Atticus’ librarius, since his handwriting bears such a resemblance to

Atticus’, although Cicero has less affection for Alexis’ manus because it represents a degree of separation from Atticus. This view should, of course, be familiar to us; it is the roadmap that scholars have followed in order to derive a code of conduct for epistolary relations amongst the aristocracy. Amici wrote to each other sua manu because of their mutual amor or benevolentia and to do otherwise would be a breach of etiquette.

Yet Cicero is playing a more complex rhetorical game with Atticus’ handwriting.

While viri boni, who are amici, naturally wrote to each other by hand, Cicero notes that

Atticus’ affection for him has caused him to go a step further. Atticus attempted to write to Cicero sua manu, despite illness that has caused him to scrawl his letters (σύγχυσιν

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litterularum,).292 Moreover, Cicero’s bond with Atticus is so strong that Cicero can predict Atticus’ state of mind and body from the appearance of his handwriting (ex eo quod ita scripseras), even before Atticus informs him (id videbatur approbare quod erat in extremo).293 In these examples, Cicero makes a point of emphasizing that the holograph – at least, for him and Atticus – goes beyond aristocratic courtesy and rather represents a heartfelt gesture which testifies to the correspondents’ connection. The message from these letters is then clear: Cicero and Atticus are great friends, and they have the documents (the holographs) to prove it. This is what these epistles say; nevertheless, we must always be sensitive to what Cicero is doing, rather than what he is saying, since there is often a large gap between these two.

Scholars have recognized that Cicero often exploits a third element in his correspondence (whether that be either a person or a topic under discussion in a letter) in order to navigate the complexities of interpersonal relations. In this way, the topic of the missive becomes not the real message, but a rhetorical space in which the epistolographer can discuss and negotiate his relationship with the addressee.294 For example, Cicero’s expression of concern for the health of Terentia and Tiro often functioned as a means of discussing his relationship with these correspondents and of expressing or withholding affection for these parties.295 Similarly, Cicero often used his relationship with persons recommended or eulogized in commendationes or consolationes as a means to strengthen

292 Cicero often uses the diminutive litterulae with a pathetic sense, particularly in his letters to an ill Tiro; cf. Fam. 16.15.2 = SB 42 (accepi tuam epistulam vacillantibus litterulis) and 16.10.2 = SB 43 (litterulae meae sive nostrae tui desiderio oblanguerunt). 293 Ad loc., SB misses this point in his translation of the passage; he interprets ex eo quod ita scripseras as referring to something that Atticus had written, rather than how Atticus wrote it. 294 This trend in scholarship has, of course, been influenced by Sedgwick’s (1995) work on the displacement of homosocial desire between two male characters in English literature onto a female character, who serves as an object of desire for the two men. 295 Gunderson (2007).

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his own relationship with the correspondent, who also shared a connection with this third party.296 In each of these cases, Cicero displaces his affection upon a third party or element within his correspondence in order to discuss and negotiate his relationship with the letter’s addressee.

Cicero’s expression of longing for Atticus’ manus falls into this same game of epistolary triangulation. By interpreting Atticus’ own handwriting as indicative of

Atticus’ great affection for him, Cicero attempts to bridge the gap that exists between himself and Atticus.297 Cicero shows his sensitivity to and affection for Atticus by

‘reading’ the meaning of Atticus’ litterulae before Atticus can reveal the cause.

Moreover, Cicero’s reading of Atticus’ handwriting functions effectively as an exegesis of his own manus. In the unlikely event that Atticus has been slow to realize what

Cicero’s own holograph (his investment of labor and time in these epistles) meant, Cicero reveals its meaning via his own reading of Atticus’ letter. Even when Atticus employs

Alexis to write his epistles, Cicero finds a way to bridge the gap by using his affection for

Atticus a means of discussing his own affection for Alexis’ manus, which is so close to

Atticus’.298 In short, in these references to the letter’s mode of production, we see Cicero finding a point of contact between himself and Atticus in the very physical form of the letter and exploiting that in order to help bridge the distance between them and renew his bond with Atticus. In this regard, their modern interpreters are only following Cicero’s

296 See Wilcox (2002: 28-199). 297 In the dialectic between presence and absence that structures much epistolary discourse, the letter can do one of two things: emphasize the distance (temporal, spatial, and emotional) between the correspondents or bridge the gap between them. See Altman (1982: 13-15) on this dialectic as one of the primary structural forces of epistolarity; in addition, see E. Gavoille (2002) for this dialectic in Cicero’s Letters. 298 See Smadja (1976: 98) for how Cicero uses Alexis to compliment Atticus. On slaves/freedmen more generally as a mirror of their dominus/patronus, see Mouritsen (2011: 49-50). In the Letters, Cicero shows much affection for Alexis, whom Cicero terms an imago Tironis (Att. 12.10.1 = SB 247). It appears that Alexis sent his own letters to Cicero (Att. 5.20.10 = SB 113).

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lead by assuming that their handwriting evinced the great bond of amicitia between these men, since such is exactly what Cicero wanted Atticus to think.

By reexamining Cicero’s rhetoric regarding handwriting in his letters to Atticus, then, we can now see that a holograph represented less the reality of their friendship than one of the means by which they attempted to maintain that friendship. The exchange of holographs was one of the avenues which Cicero exploited in order to foster the bond between them despite geographical distance; that is, holographs (re)created their friendship, rather than being a reflection of it. This reevaluation is key since only when we acknowledge that rhetorical stratagems are at work in Atticus and Cicero’s correspondence can we begin to question their purpose.

II The Business of Friendship

For the most part, scholars have been content to accept an account of Cicero’s relationship with Atticus that emphasizes this narrative of a deep personal connection between these two men.299 Their use of holographs in their correspondence obviously fits well with this narrative. Yet Cicero and Atticus would also have had plenty of motivation to continue to reiterate this narrative, given the multivalent nature of their relationship. Although certain shared interests and values united them, it is difficult to deny that Cicero and Atticus’ relationship also had another nexus of motivation: mutual self-advantage. Atticus was an equestrian and actively involved in various business ventures, while Cicero was an influential senator in the curia; their spheres of influence complemented each other, often in profitable fashions for both men. On the one side,

299 There have been resisters to this view (e.g. Ziegler [1936]; Carcopino [1951b: 411-502]; Welch [1996]); however, they have been the Cassandras, whose statements others have failed to heed.

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Atticus regularly made loans to provincial towns.300 Atticus also owned a number of estates in Epirus, whose produce likely supplied the Roman army in the East. 301

Naturally, in both of these cases, Atticus’ business interests would be advanced if he had a few sympathetic friends within the Roman government.302 These friends could prove useful in extracting the principal and interest on loans from dilatory towns, while also advocating for Atticus as a supplier of the Roman army’s needs.303 In addition, they could be counted on to watch out for Atticus’ interests and intervene when necessary, as

Cicero did when Caesar’s establishment of a colony in Epirus threatened Atticus’ investments there.304 In return, Cicero benefited from Atticus’ expertise in managing his financial portfolio, which Cicero himself often neglected.305 It should also not be forgotten that Atticus’ support was key in rallying the backing of both the equestrian order and the old guard aristocracy for Cicero’s consular campaign.306 Thus, in addition to whatever affection may have existed between these two members of the Roman elite, it seems clear that Cicero and Atticus also derived significant material benefit from their partnership.

300 For example, cf. Atticus’ attempts to retrieve his investment in a loan to Sicyon: Att. 1.13.1 = SB 13; 1.19.9 = SB 19; 1.20.4 = SB 20; 2.1.10 = SB 21; 2.13.2 = SB 33; 2.21.6 = 41. See also Welch’s (1996: 463) and Ioannatou’s (2006: 134-137) discussion of the so-called ‘Salaminian affair’ (in particular: Att. 6.1.3-7). Marshall (1999) also theorizes that Atticus’ purpose in his sojourn to Athens in the 80s BC was to help to restart the credit market, which had collapsed in the Mithridatic wars. 301 Horsfall (1989); see also Perlwitz (1992: 66-78). Cf. Varro RR 2.2, where Atticus is presented as an expert on animal husbandry. 302 Rauh (1986: 8) and Welch (1996: 454-55). 303 Welch (1996: 454-456) notes Atticus’ preference for well-connected friends, who had the capacity to influence political decisions that influenced his financial well-being. 304 Deniaux (1975) notes how Atticus used his friendship with Cicero to attempt to change public policy. Cicero, in turn, attempted to aid Atticus by authoring a series of letters to other friends on Atticus’ behalf (Cic. Att. 16.16a-f = SB 407a-f). Atticus seems to have acted as a patron to this community; see Deniaux (1987) and Hansen (2010: 94-97). 305 Rauh (1986: 9-11) lists some of Atticus’ more extreme interventions to prevent Cicero from acute financial distress. 306 Rauh (1986: 11) and Welch (1996: 460-641).

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The multivalent nature of Cicero and Atticus’ relationship may also help clarify why these two epistolographers made near exclusive use of holographs in their correspondence. Both Atticus and Cicero were exchanging officia under the guise of amicitia in such a way as to enrich each other financially; that is, each was constantly trafficking in symbolic capital and converting it into economic capital. Of course, such mutually advantageous relationships were common amongst members of the Roman elite;307 however, while Romans derived certain tangible advantages and benefits from their friendships, they generally regarded it as uncouth to treat amicitia as a strictly utilitarian social institution.308 As Verboven notes, Roman friendships were “complex relationships in which reciprocity, affection and personal loyalty were mingled and advantage and altruism intertwined.”309 Given the convergence of possible motivations for their relationship, if Cicero and Atticus had made regular recourse to dictation in their correspondence, this choice could have risked the appearance of privileging the commercial over the personal in a socially unacceptable way. That is, it might make their relationship seem overly utilitarian. In contrast, the use of personal handwriting in their letters had the effect of highlighting the importance of the personal dimension of their relationship to both parties. I do not mean to play the cynic here and discount the honesty of their friendship and their affection for each other; nonetheless, I do wish to suggest that an epistolary correspondence constituted a public, social performance by its participants (as Trebatius and Antony demonstrated). By personally authoring letters to

307 Cf. Ioannatou (2006: 234-237) and Verboven (2002: 341-350). 308 Wilcox (2012: 25-40) discusses how Cicero euphemizes the utilitarian aspects of many of his relationships with members of the Roman elite. The exchange of favors and services (with or without financial benefits) between Roman aristocrats appears to have been socially acceptable, as long as a sheen of affection overlay the relationship. 309 Verboven (2002: 45).

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each other, Cicero and Atticus’ textual practices (as a social performance) demonstrated to any interested parties that their relationship was built upon a more socially acceptable foundation. The accumulation of material wealth to either party just happened to be a fortuitous byproduct of this friendship.

A desire to draw attention away from the practical advantages that both Cicero and Atticus derived from their association also explains why these two men made greater use of the holograph than other members of the Roman elite. While Republican epistolographers typically exchanged autographed correspondence with each other,

Cicero demonstrates a greater tolerance in his other epistolary relationships for the use of dictation than he did in his correspondence with Atticus. For example, Cicero’s emphasis to Pulcher in his letter from 51BC that he wrote sua manu would necessarily imply the converse: some letters were written to Pulcher without this bibliographic gesture.310 The exchange of dictated letters should not be too surprising in this case. Cicero and

Pulcher’s relationship would straddle the line between public and private, since Cicero was the in-coming governor of Cilicia and Pulcher was the out-going governor.

Similarly, we saw that while Cicero served unwillingly as Cilicia’s governor, Caelius dispatched letters to him which contained only a concluding section written in Caelius’ hand.311 Pompey appears to have employed the same practice.312 There does seem to be a greater acceptance of dictation among the elite (in some circumstances) than scholarship generally acknowledges.313 Yet Atticus and Cicero wrote for decades by

310 Fam. 3.6.2 = SB 69. 311 Fam. 2.8.3 = SB 80: extrema pagella pupugit me tuo chirographo. 312 Att. 8.1.1 = SB 151: sed in ea Pompei epistula erat in extremo ipsius manu, ‘tu censeo Luceriam venias. nusquam eris tutius.’ 313 E.g. Butler’s (2002: 119) contention that Cicero must be lying about having dictated his reply to Antony demonstrates the sometimes dogmatic and mechanical fashion in which this social rule is applied.

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hand until old age and frail heath forced some alteration to their previous habits. The question is why. A fondness for one another probably played a role; nonetheless, a novus homo and a rich equestrian would obviously also have had more motivation than most members of the Roman elite to avoid the implication that their relationship was predicated upon something other than shared values and mutual affection.314 Atticus’ philosophical adherences may also have been relevant here. One common (and unfair) ancient critique of Epicurean ethics was their supposedly utilitarian view of friendship; that is, friendship for the sake of the practical benefits which could be derived from it.315

There would have been, then, plenty of incentives for Atticus and Cicero to avoid fostering the belief that their relationship was chiefly based upon an exchange of favors and services and not a deep personal connection.

III Atticus the Capitalist

There is value in dwelling on how Atticus obscured his conversion of symbolic capital into economic capital through the material semiotics of the letter because this practice seems exemplary of his overall modus operandi. The vast majority of the aristocracy pursued the various forms of symbolic capital that the cursus honorum bestowed upon office holders, often with the expenditure of vast amounts of economic capital as a necessary tradeoff. These aristocrats would then hope to transform that symbolic capital back into greater economic capital at a later date through mechanisms such as governorships. Caesar is perhaps the most famous example of this phenomenon.

314 Rauh (1986: 5 and passim) notes how close Cicero was to various members of the equestrian order. 315 One of the best examples of such a biased critique of the Epicurean model of friendship is found in Cicero’s works (Fin. 2.78-85). The Herculaneum papyri have revealed this critique to be quite prejudiced; see Armstrong (2011: 123-128).

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He borrowed heavily in his campaigns for various offices.316 As a result, he needed to extract as much money as possible from his provincial command in Gaul in order to stave off bankruptcy.317 While Caesar’s case is extreme, most aristocratic politicians engaged in similar cyclical exchanges of capital. In contrast, Atticus forwent accumulating such symbolic capital (and the often accompanying large debts) which political life offered, and instead sought a much quicker return on his investments in another form of symbolic capital. As he had with Cicero, Atticus harvested private relationships with prominent

Romans (i.e. trades his officia to amici for officia in return) in order to make his business enterprises successful.318 Atticus, of course, was renowned for his many friendships, which spanned the spectrum of Roman politics. In his youth, Atticus was friends with the younger Gaius Marius, while also attracting the esteem of Sulla.319 In his later years,

Atticus was friends with both Cicero and M. Brutus and with their eventual executioners,

Antony and Octavian.320 In between, Atticus had many other close friends who just happened to be leading citizens in the res publica. As he had with Cicero, Atticus also managed the finances for many of these leading cives.321 Through these friendships and services, Atticus could expect similar help from these amici as he gained from Cicero.

Nevertheless, in order to convert these officia of amicitia into denarii, Atticus had to accomplish the same thing that his autographed correspondence with Cicero had

316 Plut. Caes. 5.4 and 7.1-4 and Suet. DJ 13. 317 Cf. Frederiksen (1966: 130). 318 This has been, more or less, Rauh’s (1986) and Welch’s (1996) conclusion. 319 For Marius, cf. Nep. Att. 1, while for Sulla see Att. 4 and 16. 320 Atticus managed to maintain friendships with both Antony and Octavian despite their hostilities towards each other; cf. Nep. Att. 20.5: hoc quale sit, facilius existimabit is, qui iudicare poterit, quantae sit sapientiae eorum retinere usum benevolentiamque, inter quos maximarum rerum non solum aemulatio, sed obtrectatio tanta intercedebat, quantam fuit [incidere] necesse inter Caesarem atque Antonium, cum se uterque principem non solum urbis Romae, sed orbis terrarum esse cuperet. 321 Nep. Att. 15.3: Quo fiebat, ut omnia Ciceronum, Catonis Marci, Q. Hortensii, Auli Torquati, multorum praeterea equitum Romanorum negotia procuraret.

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achieved; that is, Atticus had to give a public show of disinterestedness in advantaging himself economically through these relationships.

A close reading of Nepos’ biography of Atticus would suggest that Atticus (and his biographer) was sensitive to such jaundiced interpretations of his many friendships with high-ranking Romans. On many occasions in the Vita Attici, Nepos makes the point that Atticus helped friends when they were at a low ebb and therefore with little expectation of any later reward or influence. Nepos notes that Atticus gave a large gift of money to Cicero when he went into exile in 58 BC (4.4) and presented M. Brutus with a similar gift when he was forced to depart for the East after Caesar’s assassination (8.6).

Nepos also mentions that Atticus aided Antony’s besieged wife, Fulvia, in the midst of the civil war in 43 BC, while Antony was battling senatorial forces in Northern Italy and

Gaul (9.2-3). Nepos makes a special note that Atticus did not act thus in order to conciliate Antony (temporis causa) since (according to Nepos) Antony’s cause at this time was hopeless (nemini enim in opinionem veniebat Antonium rerum potiturum [9.6]).

Finally, there is this statement on Nepos’ part as he concludes his discussion of Atticus’ behavior towards his friends:322

Illud unum intellegi volumus, illius liberalitatem neque temporariam neque callidam fuisse. Id ex ipsis rebus ac temporibus iudicari potest, quod non florentibus se venditavit, sed afflictis semper succurrit. (11.3)

I wish this alone to be understood: Atticus’ generosity was neither adapted to circumstances nor done with ulterior motives. This can be judged from the facts and circumstances themselves, that he did not ingratiate himself to those at the height of their powers, but he always aided those in distress.

This statement (like others before it) seems designed to refute some sort of unstated charges of influence peddling or excessive lobbying of his prominent friends, which had

322 On the structure of the Vita Attici, see Horsfall (1989: 9).

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been leveled against Atticus. Indeed, Nepos’ entire narrative of Atticus’ life seems to be predicated upon or at least informed by a parallel narrative of the same life, which Nepos seeks to refute. By informing its audience of what Atticus did not do, the Vita Attici advertises, if not what Atticus actually did, at least what he was commonly believed to have done.

In many ways, Atticus appears to have constructed his whole life in such a way as to evade the easily documentable claims that his friendships had certain commercial and economic advantages to them. As we have seen, the Roman aristocracy found value in creating some division between public business and private affairs in order to protect the sanctity (and value) of symbolic capital from the corrupting influence of economic capital. The letter’s mode of production accomplished this task in epistolary discourse by distancing commercial transactions (i.e. those involving economic capital) from private interactions (i.e. those involving symbolic capital). Atticus went a step further. He took this division of discourses in epistolography and made it into a lifestyle. Atticus, of course, was famous for his political neutrality and disengagement from the violent partisanship of the era.323 Cicero terms his lifestyle a honestum otium.324 Yet Atticus’ refusal to participate in the political world (often attributed to his adherence to Epicurean

323 Cf. Millar (1988) for how Nepos turned such neutrality into a virtue. Nepos relates that leading political figures allowed Atticus to opt out of the political world: Sulla permitted Atticus to remain in Athens, although desiring that Atticus return home with him (4.1-2) and Caesar exempts Atticus from contributing cash to the public cause (i.e. Caesar’s cause) upon his arrival in Rome in 49 BC because he finds Atticus’ neutrality (quies) pleasing (7.3). 324 This is how Cicero terms Atticus’ withdrawal from a political life, when Atticus seemed to take some umbrage at a perceived slight on Cicero’s part towards Atticus’ way of life: neque ego inter me atque te quicquam interesse umquam duxi praeter voluntatem institutae vitae, quod me ambitio quaedam ad honorum studium, te autem alia minime reprehendenda ratio ad honestum otium duxit (Att. 1.17.15 = SB 17).

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philosophy)325 had several interesting effects. Firstly, Atticus’ avoidance of politics allowed him to accumulate far more (and more intimate) friendships since mutual competition for the limited offices and honors available did not pervade or strain Atticus’ daily social relations.326 Secondly, Atticus’ studied neutrality also had the effect of transforming all his services to friends into private matters.327 As we have seen, Nepos emphasized that Atticus discharged officia to friends because they were amici with little hope of reward, since he did these services for friends in distress, rather than at the height of their influence (11.4). Given the overlap between private favors and public duties in

Roman society, however, the idea that Atticus could have discharged officia only in the private sphere must have seemed a novel idea to many readers.328 Yet the plausibility of such a claim is greatly enhanced by his depiction of Atticus’ estrangement from the political realm. By not being part of the hustle and bustle of political competition,

Atticus could credibly claim (as Nepos does) that his favors were unmotivated by such crass calculations. Atticus did these favors because of his affection for these men, and not because he was playing the game of politics.

325 Boissier (1922: 131) believes that Atticus’ Epicureanism was a convenient excuse to avoid the violent politics of the era. Perlwitz (1992: 90-97) offers an uncharitable view of Atticus’ commitment to this doctrine given his predilection for financial dealings. See also Leslie (1950) for a discussion of Atticus’ adherence to Epicurean principles. 326 Leach (1993) and Leonvant-Cirefice (2009: 94). 327 Lindsay (1998: 335) believes that Nepos downplayed Atticus’ Epicureanism in order to imply that his neutrality in the civil wars was the result of his devotion to discharging private officia to his amici rather than a consequence of his philosophical ideology. In contrast, Shearin (2012) believes that Epicureanism “haunts” this biography, particularly in the portrayal of Atticus’ death, although Nepos never explicitly addresses it. 328 While theoretically one could divide officia into public and private categories (cf. Cic. Off. 1.4 and Fam. 16.4.3 = SB 123), one could not so easily segregate these duties in practice; see Hellegouarc’h (1963: 156- 160) on this difficulty given that private friendships animated Roman public life. It should be noted that by placing a firm division between the public and private, Nepos’ Atticus in many ways undertakes a new mode of being Roman, and one which would become popular under Augustus and the principate (cf. Millar ([1988: 54]).

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Nepos’ Vita Attici again gives much evidence of such a deliberate disentanglement of private affairs from public business. For example, while Nepos mentions that Atticus did support his friends in their various campaigns for office, he notes that Atticus only acted thus for the sake of officium amicitiae and never as part of an ideological program.329 However, the clearest statement as to this principle of public impartiality and private loyalty comes in Nepos’ account of Atticus’ relationship with M.

Brutus. Shortly after Caesar’s murder, there was an attempt to set up a fund for Caesar’s assassins with monies from leading members of the equestrian order. Nepos reports

Atticus’ reaction to this scheme:

At ille, qui officia amicis praestanda sine factione existimaret semperque a talibus se consiliis removisset, respondit:si quid Brutus de suis facultatibus uti voluisset, usurum, quantum hae paterentur: sed neque cum quoquam de ea re collocuturum neque coiturum. (8.4)

But since he was thinking that one ought to discharge duties to friends without partisanship and he always had removed himself from such plans, Atticus responded that if Brutus should wish to make use of any of his resources, he might make use of them, insofar as they would allow, but he was not going to discuss nor meet with anyone concerning that matter.

Atticus, it appears, will show liberalitas to his friend, Brutus, but only in the private sphere. Atticus will not allow his friendships to extend into the public realm.330 This policy soon paid dividends for Atticus. When Antony returned to Rome with his new allies Octavian and Lepidus, he spared Atticus from the proscription due to his kind favors to a distressed Fluvia and also on account of his neutrality. Nepos mentions that

Antony wrote to Atticus sua manu in order to tell him he had nothing to fear from him

329 Nep. Att. 4.3-4: nihilo minus amicis urbana officia praestitit. nam et ad comitia eorum ventitavit, et si qua res maior acta est, non defuit. 330 Cf. Millar (1988: 44).

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(10.4).331 Beyond indicating his own archival research, Nepos’ reference to the nature of

Antony’s letter suggests that Antony regarded Atticus as a personal friend and thought of their association as divorced from the public sphere. The proscriptions were a public matter, which had no bearing on Atticus despite his friendship with the very ‘public’

Cicero.

Nevertheless, despite his refusal to become involved in the competitive world of public life, I am not suggesting that Atticus was not political, but rather that he was a different sort of ‘politician.’ As Cicero noted, no one was more πολιτικός than

Atticus.332 What Cicero meant by πολιτικός, I believe, is that Atticus was political in what we might regard as the ‘post-modern’ sense of the word. Through his application of the term πολιτικός to Atticus, Cicero gives the impression that he understood that politics involve far more than the hustings, and include “all the strategies – verbal, visual, and kinetic – by which a culture and its participants distribute power.”333 While Atticus avoided the explicitly political world of the cursus honorum, he was deeply immersed in the social politics of Roman society. For most Roman aristocrats, ‘politics’ entailed a zero-sum game where offices and the accompanying prestige were fiercely fought over.

Atticus was concerned with gaining power and influence, but not necessarily through the traditional avenues of public office and socially recognized authority which other aristocrats desired.334 Indeed, with his oxymoronic designation of Atticus’ mode of life as honestum otium, Cicero hinted that Atticus’ non-participation was still a form of

331 Nep. Att. 10.4: Antonius autem etsi tanto odio ferebatur in Ciceronem, ut non solum ei, sed etiam omnibus eius amicis esset inimicus eosque vellet proscribere, multis hortantibus tamen Attici memor fuit officii et ei, cum requisisset, ubinam esset, sua manu scripsit, ne timeret statimque ad se veniret. 332 Att. 4.6.1 = SB 83: Nam tu quidem, etsi es natura πολιτικός , taman nullam habes propriam servitutem. Ad loc., SB memorably translates πολιτικός as “political animal.” 333 Habinek (1990: 166). 334 For instance, the term auctoritas is found nowhere in Nepos’ biography of Atticus.

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political participation in its own way. The adjective honestum comes from the noun honos, one of whose prime meanings was “political office.” Thus, Atticus was willing to manage the financial portfolios of many leading Romans since this favor put these men in his debt; in addition, Atticus used his own literary skills (both in editing and historiography) to forge and deepen relationships with much of the Roman elite.335

Neither of these activities had the same social cachet for a Roman vir as a ‘public’ career; however, both activities allowed Atticus to accumulate various forms of cultural and social capital, which he could later transform into economic capital, provided that such transformations were not regarded as his goal.

We should now be in a position to see that Atticus’ letter-writing habits were not only not anomalous, but actually offer something of a Rosetta stone for elucidating

Atticus’ larger business model, which was predicated upon building relationships with prominent members of Roman society and using those relations to his own advantage – all without engendering the belief that this enrichment was the objective. Epistolography provided a forum within which Atticus built a network of relations. In particular, the exchange of holographs (due to the greater amount of labor and time expended in the production of an autograph) deepened the bonds between correspondents; however, these holographs also positioned the relationship outside the public/commercial sphere.

Therefore, when Atticus later exploited these relationships (and their accompanying social debts) for certain advantages for his businesses, these favors would seem to be the result of amicitiae rather than crass mutual advantage, since the autograph in the social materiality of republican epistolography was demonstrative of private, affective

335 Gurd (2007) and Murphy (1998) both note the inherent post-modern politics of such literary activities. Marshall (1993) notes that Atticus’ choice of subjects for his genealogies would all have very particular and immediate ‘political’ goals in mind.

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discourse. Thus, Atticus and Cicero’s near exclusive exchange of holographs aligned seamlessly into Atticus’ entrepreneurial program and his careful curation of his public image. Likewise, Atticus’ noninvolvement in public life contributed to a similar impression about the nature of Atticus’ amicitiae. Atticus’ neutrality was the holograph writ large upon his vita tota. By exiling himself from the public sphere, Atticus could claim (and perhaps even believe) that all his friendships with various leading figures were a result of affection and mutual interests rather than just mutual self-advantage. Atticus’ exchange of holographs with Cicero was, then, one small part of this larger program and stratagem.

IV The Manufacturing Industry

Finally, as further proof of his awareness of the nature and functioning of the symbolic economy of epistolography, I would note that Atticus appears to have attempted to manipulate this market by ‘counterfeiting’ the autographed letter. In a letter to Atticus from December 9th, 44 BC, we witness Cicero making a curious comment to begin his epistle: noli putare pigritia me facere quod non mea manu scribam, sed me hercule pigritia. nihil enim habeo aliud quod dicam. et tamen in tuis quoque epistulis Alexim videor agnoscere (Att. 16.15.1 = SB 426). Cicero’s tone is teasing. He denies his laziness (pigritia) before baldly admitting it; finally, he suggests that Atticus, too, has been less than energetic when it comes to his letter-writing practices (tamen in tuis quoque epistulis). Cicero tentatively posits that he sees (videor agnoscere) the hand of

Atticus’ librarius, Alexis, in this letter.336 Cicero’s difficulty in differentiating Alexis’ handwriting from Atticus’ is understandable. As we have already seen, Alexis’ ‘hand’

336 S.v. agnoscere (L&S): “agnoscere always denotes a subjective knowledge or recognition; while cognoscere designates an objective perception.”

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was virtually the same as that of Atticus: nam Alexidis manum amabam quod tam prope accedebat ad similitudinem tuae, litteras non amabam quod indicabant te non valere (Att.

7.2.3 = SB 125).337 Scholars outside Classics looking to develop a history of handwriting and secretarial duties have interpreted this remark as signifying that Atticus had trained his secretary, Alexis, to imitate his handwriting. They cite examples from other scribal cultures, where secretaries were trained to imitate their employer’s hands so that the dictated letter might masquerade as the genuine autographed article.338 Guillaumont, the only classical philologist to examine this passage, came to a slightly different conclusion:

Alexis was imitating his dominus’ handwriting by his own volition in (what could be termed) a bookish manifestation of Stockholm syndrome.339 Despite these differing interpretations, what does seem clear is that Atticus had the capacity to produce counterfeit, yet seemingly autographed, epistles.340 Naturally, there is a large gulf between a capacity for epistolary fraud and the actual transgression of such social boundaries.

Yet, lest someone protest that Atticus would not be party to such epistolary deception, it should be noted that Atticus had previously conspired with Cicero to produce counterfeit epistolary currency. On several occasions, Cicero requested that

337 Cf. Dury (2008: 115) on the difference between a ‘script’ (“a style of writing”) and a ‘hand’ (“an actualization of a script”). What Cicero is describing in Alexis’ imitation of Atticus’ handwriting is a ‘hand.’ 338 Sirat (2006: 488) points to Sir Francis Walsingham, the principal secretary to Elizabeth I of England, using such textual subterfuge, while Ganz (1997: 282 n.15) refers to Sir Philip Sidney, another Elizabethan figure, who employed a scribe to mimic his handwriting. 339 Guillaumont (2006: 105) believes that Alexis and possibly also Tiro deliberately imitated their masters’ handwriting. 340 Alexis’ imitation of Atticus’ hand is not an act without precedent in Roman antiquity. Suetonius notes that Augustus took particular care to teach his grandsons, the heirs to the Empire, to imitate his handwriting (Aug. 64.5).

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Atticus write letters in his name.341 Atticus’ ability to construct such a ruse was facilitated by his prior custody of one of Cicero’s signet rings, given that the impressed wax seal was the primary means of epistolary authentication.342 Such textual fraud was, of course, predicated on the widespread use of secretaries. Nor were the circumstances in which Cicero had Atticus use his seal to dispatch letters on his behalf insignificant. One incident occurred when Cicero was in exile in 58 BC, while the second event transpired when Cicero was marooned at Brundisium after he had abandoned Pompey’s cause in the civil war. In each case, Atticus could have made a request or relayed a message on

Cicero’s behalf; nonetheless, Cicero appears to have believed that the letter (and therefore, the letter’s request and/or message) would have more value if this textual event were transacted with the illusion that Cicero lay behind the epistolary curtain. To frame this idea within our theoretical apparatus, Cicero and Atticus collaborated to fabricate an item in the symbolic economy (the letter as an item declaring an absent friend’s presence and his care for this relationship – although less care than if he wrote the letter sua manu).343 To my reasoning, Atticus and Cicero engaged in this conspiracy because they understood that a letter which a recipient believed that Cicero himself had composed carried a greater value in the symbolic economy and thus rejection of its request was

341 In particular, see Att. 3.15.8 = SB 60 (si qui erunt quibus putes opus esse meo nomine litteras dari, velim conscribas curesque dandas) and Att. 11.2.4 = SB 212 (quibus tibi videbitur velim des litteras meo nomine. Nosti meos familiaris. si signum requirent aut manum, dices me propter custodias ea vitasse). See also Att. 11.8.2 = SB 219 and 11.13.5 = SB 224. White (2010: 66) suggests that it is unlikely that any these ‘ghostwritten’ letters would be in our corpus of the Letters because such letters “had less chance of being copied and preserved in Cicero’s files than those Cicero generated himself” and, in any case, the anonymous editor would have “eliminated manifestly supposititious items.” 342 Cicero rejected the authenticity of a letter from Brutus on these grounds (ad Brut. 2.5.4 = SB 5); for discussion, see Nicholson (1994: 43) and White (2010: 66). 343 Cf. Altman (1982: 13-15) and E. Gavoille (2002: passim) on the importance of presence for the power of any epistle.

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more socially problematic. In short, ‘epistolary presence’ was a commodity that Cicero and Atticus could and did manufacture to their own benefit.

I would suggest a similar rationale for Atticus’ possible employment of a secretary to imitate his calligraphy, since an autograph was another item (and a more valuable one than mere ‘presence’) within the symbolic economy of republican epistolography. Atticus’ exploitation of a scriba to imitate his hand would allow him to manufacture intimacy in his correspondence. This type of relationship maintenance on

Atticus’ part (whether by his own hand or that of a scriba) would certainly have been advantageous for him, since Atticus regularly harvested these relationships for his own economic benefit. Nepos relates that Atticus had a thriving epistolary relationship with both Antony and Octavian. As we saw, Atticus enjoyed the privilege of receiving autographed letters from Antony (10.4), while Octavian sent him letters almost daily

(20.2). 344 The topics of each correspondence, according to Nepos, were private quotidian affairs;345 however, we can be confident that public and commercial affairs would have been interspersed within the content of these epistles, just as had been the case with Cicero. In each correspondence (and in other epistolary transactions with prominent Romans), Atticus’ ability to dictate an epistula to a scribe (whether a word- for-word transcription or a general outline) who could imitate his hand would allow him to reduce his investment of time and labor, while reaping the benefits of these investments. This need may perhaps have become more acute as Atticus aged and his

344 On Augustus the epistolographer, see Bourne (1918). 345 On Atticus’ correspondence with Octavian, cf. Nep. Att. 20.1-2: cum ab urbe abesset, numquam ad suorum quemquam litteras misit, quin Attico mitteret, quid ageret, in primis, quid legeret quibusque in locis et quamdiu esset moraturus. For the correspondence with Antony, see Nep. Att. 20.4: neque vero a M. Antonio minus absens litteris colebatur, adeo ut accurate ille ex ultumis terris, quid ageret, curae sibi haberet certiorem facere Atticum.

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faculties became impaired. 346 Not everyone had the decades of friendship and correspondence which Atticus and Cicero had that allowed them to dispense eventually with handwriting without that act being detrimental to their relationship. Atticus’ more tenuous relationships would have needed tending with regular, autographed correspondence, while new relationships could be more securely formed with the aid of an autographed epistle, that material sign of one party’s commitment to and investment in the friendship. In a somewhat simplified equation, we could say that Atticus seems to have exploited human capital (slaves) in order to mass-produce a form of social capital

(handwriting) and, ultimately, gain economic capital.

Nonetheless, this type of textual and economic practice would be nearly impossible to confirm, since its value lay in multiplying and imitating something whose worth relied on its authenticity and singularity. Thus, the advantage for Atticus in this practice would be contingent entirely on its concealment. Like Cicero, we can only guess

(videor) at whether Atticus trained Alexis to imitate his master’s calligraphy and what the motivation might have been. Therefore, this deduction must necessarily remain speculative, albeit one with a strong circumstantial case in support, given the fact that

Atticus had motive, opportunity, and means for such mass-production of counterfeit autographs. The motive should be obvious by this point: Atticus could have employed scribal slaves to imitate his handwriting in order maintain his network of friends at a more intimate level; however, Atticus could have also exploited these connections for economic advantage by trading off on these private relations for personal favors which could be redeemed for rather public and commercial advantages. Moreover, we know that

346 See Horsfall (1995: 52-54) and Guillaumont (2006: 99-100) for the practical benefits of slaves in literary endeavors.

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Atticus seems to have possessed the means (Alexis, and possibly other scribes) for such a forgery,347 while only the number of correspondents limited opportunity. Imitation may be the sincerest form of flattery, but it also had practical benefits.

Conclusions

The autographed nature of Cicero’s correspondence with Atticus is the source of the scholarly belief that amici among the Roman aristocracy always wrote to each other sua manu. Yet, as I have argued, the general scholarly reliance on Cicero and Atticus’ relationship as a paragon of amicitia in Roman society – in addition to Cicero’s own rhetoric about such holographs – has allowed for a rather uncritical acceptance and ossification of this belief. If we are cognizant of what the rhetoric is doing, rather than what it is saying, however, we can appreciate the holograph’s sociological function, rather than its stated purpose. The holograph worked to forge a bond between sender and addressee and, in so doing, shift the content of that epistle into the private sphere. This function would have been of particular importance for Atticus, since much of his business was predicated upon using his private relationships for commercial advantage. Thus,

Atticus exchanged holographs with Cicero nearly exclusively for much of his life, since this action would have had the effect of making their relationship seem personal and affective, rather than public and financially motivated. In addition, there is a strong likelihood that Atticus used a scribe to imitate his handwriting, an act which could have greatly multiplied the number of relationships which Atticus could keep on a ‘private’ basis and thereby harvest discreetly when need arose. Such epistolary practices were, in fact, paradigmatic of Atticus’ entire life. His refusal to enter public life (his honestum

347 Nepos (Att. 13.3) makes special note of the anagnostae optimi et plurimi librarii that Atticus employs in his familia.

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otium) allowed him to map this division of private/symbolic and public/economic onto his entire life. Atticus could claim that none of his friendships with men like Cicero,

Antony, and Octavian were motivated by self-interest, but by mutual affection and interest, since he took no interest in their world and their scheming. Atticus’ life was in many ways a holograph in that he treated all his relationships (at least, those with men of the senatorial order) as private affairs. Yet just like the holograph, this rhetoric of personal attachment served to obfuscate the pragmatic commercial interests that were inherent in these relationships. In short, then, we see in Atticus a man who skillfully operated the symbolic economy of Roman society in such a way as to benefit his own financial wellbeing, with epistolography providing just one example of these manipulations.

Chapter Four: The Sociologies of Wax-Tablets and Papyrus in Roman Epistolography

Why did aristocratic Roman epistolographers primarily make use of papyrus as the medium of choice for their epistulae? Why did these letter writers, however, sometimes employ wax-tablets for transmission of their epistles? Scholarship has two answers to these questions. The first answer is a non-response: the avoidance of the question, or rather obliviousness to the question.348 This response is not atypical. Every form of media assumes its authority through collective amnesia as each culture becomes so accustomed to the form and usage of a particular species of media for certain practices that individuals cease to question why it is used in this way, rather than in any other.349

Such amnesia explains why societies are often so conservative in the transition of media.350 The second response to interrogation of ancient epistolary media is recourse to technological determinism, which is just another type of amnesia. Technological determinists answer that papyrus and wax-tablets were used as the media for Roman epistles because they were best suited to these tasks.351 They forget – or ignore – that there were other available configurations of ancient information technology that could facilitate the letter-writing culture which we see in Cicero’s Rome. All societies employ

348 E.g. Tyrrell and Purser (1904: 54-55), Trapp (2003: 6-11), Richards (2004: 47-51), and Klauck (2006: 44-48) all list possible epistolary media, but do not consider reasons for why one medium is used as opposed to another. 349 Gitelman (2006: 6-7). See also Ernst’s (2005) call for greater “irony” in the study of media. 350 Take, for example, the case of the nascent e-book in our age. While the hypertextual digital environment offers both writers and readers new and different ways to use the architecture of the book, we have for the most part “ported” the codex book into an electronic environment. We have become accustomed to very particular “mode[s] of cultural production” and have become blind to alternate possibilities; see Hesse’s (1997) still relevant critique of this transition in media. 351 Cf. Birt (1882: 61), Dziatzko (1899: 837), Schubert (1921: 23-28), Büchner (1947: 1208), Guillaumont (2004: passim), Shackleton Bailey (1980: 12), and White (2010: 64) all provide explanations that posit the speed and convenience of codicilli against the elegant permanence of charta.

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information technology in fashions that are advantageous to the structure of their culture.

Sometimes these exploitations of media match the best technological usages and sometimes not.

While the medium may not be the message, every medium has particular associations within a society that will alter and affect the message which it transmits.352

The various material typologies are anything but hermeneutically insignificant since they operate in an ideological fashion to “characterize the existence, circulation, and operation of certain discourses within a society.”353 In modern society, print culture has generated a highly developed sociology of texts and although digital textuality has begun to destabilize this sociology, this cultural system remains essential to all forms of critical exegesis.354 Leaving aside wax-tablets and papyrus for the moment, we know that particular media did characterize certain discourses within Roman society.355 Stone was associated with public assertions of an individual’s place within the community.356 What we term the “epigraphic habit” is, from another perspective, the sociology of stone, a medium which Romans perceived as lending a monumental permanence and authority to

352 On the general concept of the sociology of the text, see McKenzie (1999). See also Huhtamo and Parikka’s (2012) introduction to the field of media archaeology. 353 See Foucault (1977: 124) in his essay “What is an Author.” His reading of the author-function has influenced my own understanding of material textuality since I read such textuality as operating in a similarly ideological way to that of the author’s name. 354 Chartier (2004: 145). For example, with clear material parameters we distinguish books from letters from pamphlets from magazines and newspapers. Within these genera of texts, there are a plethora of other physical distinctions. To name a few: a book can be soft- or hardcover; textbooks and dictionaries have different dimensions than a novel; tabloid newspapers are the half-sized equivalents (in size and cultural estimation) of their broadsheet siblings. 355 Achard (1991: 61) touches casually on this sort of sociology of the media in the Roman world, particularly stone, marble, and bronze, but without exploring its implications. 356 Woolf (1996): “epigraphy provided a device by which individuals could write their public identities into history, by fixing in permanent form their achievements and their relations with gods, with men, with the Empire, and with the city.”

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the claim of the inscription.357 While stone authorized the claims of individuals, bronze sanctioned the larger assertions of the Roman social elite since leges had to be written on bronze tablets and hung publicly to be valid.358 Finally, there are the curse tablets, which were predominantly written on lead. Again, a discourse is associated with a particular medium. For the media discussed in this admittedly brief overview, there is no immediately discernable technological rationale for their usages. Yet their distinctive exploitation of these media makes sense within the cultural economy when we take into account their genealogies. Each medium had a particular cultural meaning that cannot be separated from an interpretation of the linguistic contents of the text; that is to say, each medium has its own sociology.

Although far removed from such monumental media, the more quotidian media of papyrus and wax-tablets also possessed distinct sociologies for Cicero and his social cohort based upon their genealogies, affiliations, and place within the greater cultural landscape. In this chapter, I explore the distinct sociologies that wax-tablets and papyrus had in Roman epistolography, a difference in sociologies which can be reduced to this distinction: wax-tablets put the focus on the message, while papyrus draws attention to the letter writer. More specifically, Roman epistolographers employed the older and (as we shall see) sacrosanct species of information technology of wax-tablets (codicilli or

357 Much scholarship has attempted to account for the distinctly Roman “epigraphic habit,” which MacMullen (1982) observed in his seminal article. Most scholars have concluded that this habit has a far greater symbolic function than a practical one. Meyer (1990) observes that greater allocation of Roman citizenship in Gaul and North Africa typically preceded an increase in epigraphy in these provinces. Woolf (1996) sees stone inscriptions as a way of fixing one’s identity in an unstable world. Beard (1985) has demonstrated how the annually inscribed Arval Acta primarily served the purpose of symbolically demonstrating this priesthood’s importance. 358 Williamson (2005: 122) has persuasively suggested that Romans employed bronze for this purpose because a religious aura came to surround this medium due to its use for votive tablets and dedications and this aura helped invest these laws with a certain sanctity. See also Meyer (2004: 102-103).

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tabellae) in order to emphasize the reliability of the contents of their letters and when they wished to place certain obligations on their addressees to act in a certain way. In contrast, republican letter writers utilized the more recent and bookish medium of papyrus (charta) when they wished to draw attention to themselves as skilled practitioners of elite level literacy. Moreover, we shall see that in each case epistolographers did subtly manipulate and deploy these sociologies for practical purposes and their own rhetorical goals.

I Special Delivery

The creation of a material typology for Cicero’s epistles is complicated by the fact that Cicero only rarely specifies on what medium he is writing. In the entirety of the corpus of the Letters, Cicero and his correspondents only make definitive comment upon the medium of their correspondence on about a dozen occasions, and usually only if there is something amiss with regard to the medium.359 We can, however, be confident that nearly all of the letters in the Letters were papyrus-based;360 indeed, there are no litterae within this corpus that we can positively ascertain to have been originally dispatched upon wax-tablets. This situation represents a contrast with earlier epistolary practices.

The first reference to a letter in classical culture within the literary record is

Bellerophon’s famous πίναξ πτυκτός (Il. 6.169).361 For Romans of an earlier time as well, tablets were the default medium in epistolary communications, as the Latin term for letter courier (tabellarius) demonstrates.362 By Cicero’s time, however, papyrus had

359 Guillaumont (2004: 130). This holds true in modern epistolography as well; see Hall (2000: 85-86). 360 See Birt (1882: 61) and Guillaumont (2004: 127-130). 361 On the historicity of these early tablets, see Bellamy (1989: 291-293) and Shear (1998). 362 Fest. p.490 (ed. Lindsay): tabellis pro chartis utebantur antiqui, quibus ultro citro, sive privatim sive publice opus erat, certiores absentes faciebant. unde adhuc tabellari dicuntur, et tabellae missae ab imperatoribus. See also Isid. Orig. 5.24.4 and 6.8.18. Butler (2011: 64) notes that since Festus relies often

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become the medium for the correspondence of the Roman elite.363 Yet, as it happens, it is predominantly from the references that Cicero or his correspondents make about wax- tablets, primarily regarding their use in other epistolary transactions that are not included in the Letters, that scholars have constructed an understanding of the sociology of this medium in epistolography.

The general scholarly consensus has been that wax-tablets were the medium for

“short, informal notes” and business concerns.364 Three examples (which account for over half the references to wax-tablets in the Letters) can serve to illustrate this point. In

January 45 BC, Cicero informs his friend Lepta that he used wax-tablets to query a point of law and eligibility for political office with Balbus on Lepta’s behalf:

simul atque accepi a Seleuco tuo litteras, statim quaesivi e Balbo per codicillos, quid esset in lege. rescripsit eos, qui facerent praeconium, vetari esse in decurionibus; qui fecissent, non vetari. qua re bono animo sint et tui et mei familiares; neque enim erat ferendum, cum, qui hodie haruspicinam facerent, in senatum Romae legerentur, eos, qui aliquando praeconium fecissent, in municipiis decuriones esse non licere. (Fam. 6.18.1 = SB 218)

As soon as I had received your letter from Seleucus, I immediately sought from Balbus by wax-tablets what was in the law. He wrote back that those who are auctioneers are forbidden to be among the decuriones; who had been are not. Therefore, our friends should cheer up. For this would have been intolerable: when those men who are soothsayers are enrolled into the Roman senate, and that these men who had been auctioneers are not allowed to be decuriones in municipal towns.

Similarly, Cicero refers to a reply that he made to Atticus via codicilli in 46 BC, in which he discussed several matters including his son Marcus’ desire to join Caesar in Spain:

on Verrius Flaccus’ work, it is difficult to say to whom the noun antiqui refers. Does it refer to Cicero’s age or those before him? This discussion should strongly suggest that it was the latter. 363 Parchment, although known, was not used for letters until late antiquity; see Birt (1882: 61-63). I leave aside ostraca as an epistolary medium, which a person of Cicero’s station would not have employed. 364 Shackleton Bailey (1980: 12). See also: T.-P. ad loc. Q.Fr. 2.9, Büchner (1947: 1208), Luck (1961: 77- 78), Achard (1991: 138-139), Guillaumont (2004), Hall (2008: 17), and White (2010: 64). As usual, Carcopino (1951b: 431 n.6) offers a unique perspective: “In his own home a Roman wrote on a charta of papyrus. On going out he carried with him his codicilli (tablets).”

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quae desideras omnia scripsi in codicillis eosque Eroti dedi, breviter, sed etiam plura quam quaeris, in iis de Cicerone; […] de Balbo et in codicillis scripseram et ita cogito, simul ac redierit. sin ille tardius, ego tamen triduum, et, quod praeterii, Dolabella etiam mecum (Att. 12.7.1-2 = SB 244).

I wrote all the things you desire in the tablets and I gave them to Eros – concisely, but even more fully than you asked; in these there is something about Marcus; […] I also wrote about Balbus in the wax-tablets and so I think: as soon as he will have returned. If that man is late, I nevertheless shall come in three days’ time and (which I forget to mention) with me is Dolabella, too.

Finally, there is a letter between Cicero and Atticus, which may itself have been written on wax-tablets.365 I quote the epistula in its entirety:

Plane [facturum] nihil erat quod ad te scriberem; modo enim discesseras et paulo post triplicis remiseras. velim cures fasciculum ad Vestorium deferendum et aliquoi des negotium qui quaerat Q. Staberi fundus num quis in Pompeiano Nolanove venalis sit. epitomen Bruti Caelianorum velim mihi mittas et a Philoxeno Παναιτίου Περὶ Προνοίας. te Idibus videbo cum tuis. (Att. 13.8 = SB 313)

Obviously there was nothing which I might write to you, as you have just left and sent back the tablets soon after. I would wish that you take care that the package is delivered to Vestorius and give the assignment to someone to inquire whether a farm of Q. Staberus is for sale in Pompeii or Nola. Please send me Brutus’ abridgement of Caelius’ histories and Concerning Wisdom by Panaitios from Philoxenus. I will see you and your family on the Ides.

As previous scholarship has proposed, each of these examples would seem to suggest that

Romans employed wax-tablets due to their speed (simul, statim, breviter) and convenience in terms of replying. Wax-tablets are ready palimpsests that allow a message to be read, erased, and replied to quickly, as we see in these examples. Indeed,

Roman writers often utilized wax-tablets in discourses such as poetry and rhetoric with a very similar motive since these tablets’ convenience and erasability aided the user in the process of literary production and revision.366 Quintilian recommended their use for just

365 This is my own inference based upon the length of the letter (54 words). 366 Schubart (1921: 23-28) invites such a comparison. On wax-tablets’ use as a writing tool, see Small (1997: 145-147).

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this reason (Inst. 10.33.3), while we often witness the poets parading their wax-tablets

(and thus their cultural labor) before the eyes of the reader for a variety of metapoetic purposes.367 For example, Propertius’ loss of his own learned tablets (doctae tabellae) is programmatic for his coming disengagement from the genre of elegy (3.23).368

Additionally, these examples indicate that Roman epistolographers utilized wax- tablets for discussing business concerns. Thus, in the second example, Cicero gave the codicilli for Atticus to Eros, who was one of Atticus’s agents in the management of

Cicero’s financial affairs.369 This action would suggest that many of Atticus’ inquiries were of a business nature.370 In addition, we discover that the matter concerning young

Marcus Cicero largely revolved around his allowance while on this possible excursion to

Spain.371 Likewise, in the final example Cicero’s request to Atticus (to discover if a farm of Staberus’ is for sale) is commercial in nature. Finally, there is allusive reference to

Balbus in the second example. Since Balbus was Caesar’s financier, Cicero’s business with him may have been commercial.372 Given the nature of wax-tablets, it certainly makes some sense that a Roman businessman who wished a swift response to his message would have dispatched codicilli.

Nevertheless, a series of contradictions present themselves upon a closer examination of wax-tablets’ employment in Roman epistolography. First, if wax-tablets were the ancient equivalent of an Etch-A-Sketch, why would Roman businesspersons wish to use regularly this medium for their communiqués? Scholars have assumed that

367 See Roman (2006) for a discussion of wax-tablets’ symbolic use in Catullus and the Augustan poets. 368 See Roman (2006: 363-366) for a discussion. 369 Cf. Att. 15.20.4 = SB 397, 10.15.1 = SB 207, 13.30.1 = SB 303, and 15.17.1 = SB 394. 370 In the next chapter, I shall explore more fully how an epistle’s carrier could affect the reception of a letter and place it within a particular horizon of expectation. 371 Att. 12.7.1: exposui te ad me detulisse et quid vellet et quid requireret. velle Hispaniam, requirere liberalitatem. de liberalitate dixi, quantum Publilius, quantum flamen Lentulus filio. 372 On Balbus and his relationship with Caesar, see Syme (1939: 70-71).

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wax-tablets are ephemeral and, if an epistolographer wished to preserve his letters, he would use papyrus instead.373 Yet what businessperson does not desire a clear record of their correspondence?374 Second, the lifespan of wax-tablets may not have been as short-lived as scholarship assumes. Scholars have noted previously that certain litterae within the Letters were likely dispatched upon wax-tablets,375 while glossing over how these epistles came to be in this corpus. Did a scribe immediately copy the contents of a wax-tablet onto papyrus and only then did the letter’s addressee smooth over the wax and reply? Did Cicero store the original wax-tablets and reply via another text, whether that be codicilli or charta? Such work would represent much added labor for a medium whose advantage was its supposed rapidity and convenience. Third, this perception of wax-tablets as an ephemeral medium may simply be the consequence of the selection bias inherent in the assemblage of the Letters. This collection appears to represent a deliberate collation of epistles of a personal and political nature, which are designed to construct a narrative dramatizing the political demise of the Roman Republic.376 Thus, while Cicero’s more business-oriented correspondence may not have been important to this collection’s editor(s) given their goals, the absence of business letters from the

Letters should not mean that such correspondence (and the medium associated with it – wax-tablets) were ephemeral or not carefully maintained by Cicero’s household in his lifetime.

373 Guillaumont (2004: 136-137). As one of her first observations, Meyer (2004: 1) notes that wax-tablets are “heavy to carry and awkward to store.” 374 On copying and storing Roman letters, see Büchner (1947: 1208) and Small (1997: 51-52). 375 In a note on Fam. 11.25 = SB 420, SB acknowledges and concurs with Manutius’ suggestion that this letter and also likely Att. 13.34 = SB 350 were dispatched on wax-tablets. These two letters each state that they encompass a single column (pagina or pagella) and each letter is only about sixty words long. 376 White (2010: 31-63); see also Beard (2002).

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These lines of inquiry should open up some of the problematic aspects regarding the scholarly assumptions about wax-tablets, which have relied too heavily on implicit technological rationales for the wax-tablet’s employment, and ignored a number of illogicalities.377 Since explanations based upon the best use of technology, then, do not fully explain why republican epistolographers utilized wax-tablets in particular situations,

I would suggest that we look for culturally determined causes for wax-tablets’ utilization in epistolography.

The wider employment of wax-tablets in Roman society may suggest an approach to understanding how Cicero presents their use in the Letters. Tablets were, in fact, an old and venerable medium in Roman society, with papyrus actually being the new comer to this culture, as we shall see. Given their seniority, we unsurprisingly find that Romans used tablets for a plethora of functions: votive offering, pedagogic exercise, literary draft, religious chronicle, and legal and financial document.378 Nevertheless, while wax-tablets could have a variety of uses in Roman society, I would like to concentrate for the moment on their employment in the religious and legal spheres. Elizabeth Meyer has discussed at length how the use of wax-tablets in the religious sphere for votive offerings and religious scripture was related to their use as a medium for contracts.379 While there are practical advantages in these tablets’ material form for their use in such agreements (it

377 Cf. Bucher’s (1987: 24-28) discussion of the use of wax-tablets in Roman society; he attempts to rationalize a series of contradictions in their usage by recourse to technological determinism. 378 See Meyer’s (2004: 24-36) thorough discussion of the tablet’s various uses in Roman society. Philology does not help much to differentiate these diverse uses, since the various terms for tablets (codicilli, pugillaris, tabula, and the diminutive tabellae) had overlapping meanings. As we shall see, Cicero uses most of these terms for the letter. Meyer (2004: 24 n.14) notes that while “tabella is used for many of the meanings of tabula […], tabula is rarely used to denote ‘letter.’” 379 Meyer (2004: esp. 21-44). Both Bucher (1987: 28) and Achard (1991: 58-59) allow that the usage of wax-tablets may have something to do with mos maiorum, but do not explore this possibility.

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is impossible to erase entirely the markings within wax-tablets, unlike with papyrus),380 religious superstition seems the key element in their employment in commercial transactions, since the tabulae’s use in religious practices creates and fosters an aura of authority for this medium in legal transactions.381 Meyer recounts the strong similarities between the physical and linguistic architectures of tabulae employed in commercial and religious contexts that promoted this connection and shared aura. 382 Meyer’s interrogations of tabulae suggest that Romans exploited a cultural perception of wax- tablets developed in the religious sphere in order to aid the healthy functioning of the commercial markets. She also notes that over time “this original sanction came to be overlaid by another, the fides of individuals – manifested in bona fides legal acts, and conveyed by seal, subscription, and writing in one’s own hand.”383 That is, over time these contracts became authoritative due to the ritualistic nature of signing and sealing them. I wonder if we can postulate a similar rationale for why Roman epistolographers used wax-tablets based upon their prior usage in religious and commercial contexts.384

That is to say, did Roman epistolographers exploit the interlinked sociology of wax- tablets in religious practices and commercial transactions in order to sanctify their epistulae and invest them with greater authority?

380 Gurd (2010: 85-86). Cicero used this fact to his advantage in his prosecution of Verres since the wax- tablets in this case showed clear signs of tampering. 381 Meyer (2004: 91-124). 382 Meyer (2004: 21-22) uses the metaphor of genetics to describe these similarities: “Roman tablets and most things written on them belong to one large family” and “[s]uch resemblances mark out all its members, like members of other famous families, as inheritors of a claim to shape the world.” 383 Meyer (2004: 295). 384 Meyer (2001) further explored the sociology of wax-tablets in an article examining their use in Latin verse. She concludes that this medium’s sociology operated in an analogous manner in poetic discourse to that of business and law. Her treatment of the subject, however, was brief and did not examine republican epistolography. My study complements and fills outs her initial work.

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The third oratio of Cicero’s In Catilinam provides strong evidence that the sociology of wax-tablets in the religious and commercial spheres could and did influence their perception and use in epistolary transactions. In a speech from the rostra, Cicero relates how he confronted Catiline’s associates with material proof of their treachery – the letters with which the conspirators had hoped to rouse the Gallic tribe of the

Allobroges to revolt:

Ac ne longum sit, Quirites, tabellas proferri iussimus, quae a quoque dicebantur datae. Primo ostendimus Cethego; signum cognovit. Nos linum incidimus, legimus. Erat scriptum ipsius manu Allobrogum senatui et populo sese, quae eorum legatis confirmasset, facturum esse; orare ut item illi facerent, quae sibi eorum legati recepissent. […] Introductus est Statilius; cognovit et signum et manum suam. Recitatae sunt tabellae in eandem fere sententiam; confessus est. Tum ostendi tabellas Lentulo et quaesivi, cognosceretne signum. Adnuit. (3.10)

And lest I detain you, citizens, I ordered the tablets brought forth, which were said to have been dispatched by each man. I presented a letter to Cethegus first. He acknowledged his seal. I cut the string and I read it. It had been written in his own hand that he would do for the Senate and the people of Allobroges what he had guaranteed to their ambassadors; he entreated them to do likewise what their ambassadors had pledged. […] Statilius was led in. He acknowledged his seal and his handwriting. The tablets were read aloud to nearly the same effect. He confessed. Then I showed the tablets to Lentulus and queried whether he recognized the seal. He nodded.

Cicero is very particular in this section of his speech about providing clear proof of the conspirators’ guilt. This evidence fulfills Cicero’s promise to his audience at the beginning of this speech that he would demonstrate the conspirators’ guilt with evidence, not with words, in light of the gravity of his accusations:

quoniam auribus vestris propter incredibilem magnitudinem sceleris minorem fidem faceret oratio mea, rem ita comprehenderem, ut tum demum animis saluti vestrae provideretis, cum oculis maleficium ipsum videretis. (3.4)

Since my words might make less of an impression on your ears on account of the awe-inspiring enormity of the crime, (I took pains) in order that I might get control of the matter in such a way so that you might rationally make provision for your safety once you saw the misdeed itself with your eyes.

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Given the implicit binary that he sets up at the outset of this speech between sound

(auribus vestris) and sight (oculis) and the fidelity (fides) that each engenders, Cicero’s particular emphasis upon the materiality of these subversive epistles is understandable.

In essence, he announces a shift from deliberative to forensic oratory. Thus, he now reenacts the courtroom interrogation for the benefit of the watching crowd. Cicero takes care to emphasize the chain of evidence (nos linum incidimus)385 and makes sure that each defendant acknowledges (cognosco) his signum and manus.386

Cicero’s emphasis upon the materiality of this correspondence also seems designed to bring to the forefront the physical and linguistic features which characterize the wax-tablets’ usage in commercial transactions. To start with, the tabellae that Cicero describes in this speech look and function much like the commercial tabulae. Cicero’s procedure of identifying the seal before commencing with cutting the string (linum) is closely analogous to the ritual that surrounds the opening of a contract or a will.387 For

Romans, the string and seal that secure the contract are what give these documents their fidelity, or fides.388 As we saw, Cicero had previously noted that his oratio would

385 Cf. Cat. 3.5: litterae, quaecumque erant in eo comitatu, integris signis praetoribus traduntur. 386 Cicero’s deployment of these pieces of evidence actually represents part of a much larger rhetorical innovation on his part, as Butler (2002: 99-100) notes. Cicero is transforming the documentary proof of the conspirators’ guilt (the tabellae, signa, and manus) into the equivalents of the rhetorician’s traditional proofs, the bodily marks of guilt such as pallor or silence on the part of the accused. Cf. Cat. 3.12: ac mihi quidem, Quirites, cum illa certissima visa sunt argumenta atque indicia sceleris, tabellae, signa, manus, denique unius cuiusque confessio, tum multo certiora illa, color, oculi, vultus, taciturnitas. In contrast, Jenkins (2006: 79) believes that Cicero is “writing the writing out of the story” by drawing attention to the conspirator’s physical reactions. 387 After a document was sealed, however, it was rarely opened; cf. Meyer (2004: 162). 388 So Paulus recounts a senatusconsultum from AD 61: Amplissimus ordo decrevit eas tabulas, quae publici vel privati contractus scripturam continent, adhibitis testibus ita signari, ut in summa marginis ad mediam partem perforatae triplici lino constringantur atque impositae supra linum cerae signa imprimantur, ut exteriori scripturae fidem interior servet. Aliter tabulae prolatae nihil momenti habent. (Sent. 5.25.6)

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provide minor fides given the magnitude of the charges. Now Cicero provides the required visible proof, the tabellae whose physical form embodies the maior fides that a legal contract possessed through the presence of its strings, seals, and handwriting.389

Moreover, Cicero’s designation of the wax-tablets as tabellae (the diminutive of tabula) could be tactical. In the Letters, Cicero only refers to wax-tablets as codicilli.390 His switch in terminology to tabellae, then, could represent an attempt to summon to mind the more documentary associations of this medium, since the term tabellae was commonly used to refer to bureaucratic documents.391

Likewise, the dialogue between the Allobroges and Catiline’s other top lieutenants approximates the ritualized redaction of promises in tabulae transactions. Earlier in this speech, Cicero recounted the Allobroges’ testimony before the senate:

Introducti autem Galli ius iurandum sibi et litteras ab Lentulo, Cethego, Statilio ad suam gentem data esse dixerunt, atque ita sibi ab his et a L. Cassio esse praescriptum, ut equitatum in Italiam quam primum mitterent; pedestres sibi copias non defuturas. (9)

However, after being led in, the Gauls stated that oaths had been given to them and letters had been supplied for their tribe by Lentulus, Cethegus, and Statilius. Moreover, they said that it was prescribed to them by these men and by L. Cassius to send cavalry into Italy as once; the conspirators did not lack for infantry.

In Sallust’s history of this aborted revolution, the oaths sworn to Allobroges’ ambassadors and letters to take back to their tribe were one and the same: ab Lentulo,

Cethego, Statilio, item Cassio postulant ius iurandum, quod signatum ad civis perferant

See Meyer (2004: 167) for this discussion and Meyer (2004: 126-134) for a history of the physical form of the tabulae. For the binding of wax-tablets letters with string and seal, see Plaut. Bacch. 4.4.64 and Ps. 1.1. 40. Nicholson (1994: 42) calls this the “first line of defense” for epistolary confidentiality. 389 Meyer (2004: 167). 390 Gullaumont (2004: 131) also notes that Cicero only uses codicilli in his Letters. 391 See Butler’s (2002: 36-37) catalogue of documents, including tabellae, in the Verrine speeches. Cicero does not use codicilli to refer to legal or bureaucratic documents. His only other use of the term designates a notebook (Phil. 8.28.14). Nonetheless, Cicero’s designation of wax-tablets solely as codicilli (and thus the exceptionality of tabellae) could just be a result of the tyranny of evidence.

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(44.1). This confusion over where the oath ended and the letter began may indicate that there was little difference in practice between the ius iurandum and the litterae.

Promises were both spoken and written, but they represented virtually the same compacts. This near equivalence is significant since it mimicked the procedure in votive offerings and contracts when an oral promise became codified within the wax-tablets. In these situations, it was precisely their redaction on wax-tablets that made the promise binding, or “dispositive.”392 Moreover, Cicero’s word choice in describing this exchange of promises seems telling. Cicero regularly uses the passive construction praescriptum to indicate mandates deriving from laws.393 The leges were written on bronze tablets.394

Similarly, Cicero describes Cethegus as requesting that the Allobroges fulfill the promises that their ambassadors had pledged (recepissent). It does not seem accidental that the verb recipio has a commercial connotation to it.395 Overall, then, the tabellae of the third In Catilinam appear similar in their material and linguistic forms to the tabulae of Roman law and commerce.

Furthermore, Cicero is not shy in this speech about asserting divine involvement in the discovery of the conspirators’ letters – something which is pertinent given that the original basis for the cultural authority for wax-tablets is this medium’s long-standing connection with the religious sphere. Cicero constructs a series of interconnected binaries in this speech: seen and unseen; light and dark; and divine and ungodly.396 As we witnessed, Cicero began this speech with the proposition that he must expose this

392 Meyer (2004: 2). 393 E.g. Att. 3.23.4 = SB 68, Pro Fon. 2.2.8, De Domo 84.1, and Verr. 2.2.40 and 2.2.40. 394 Williamson (1987). 395 Cf. Plaut. Mil. 2.2.74, Ter. Heaut. 5.5.12, and Cic. Fam. 13.10.3, Phil. 5.18.51, and Fam. 13.50.2 396 In what follows, I rely greatly on Ferry’s (1968: 201-204) very brief, yet highly insightful reading of the thematic binaries in this speech.

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crime not with a speech for the ears, but with visible proof for the eyes. Cicero maps this theme of seen and unseen onto the narrative itself. Catiline’s conspiracy takes place in literal darkness.397 The conspirators crossed the Milvian Bridge and met the soldiers, whom Cicero had dispatched, at the dead of night (tertia fere vigilia exacta [5]). After their capture, Cicero received the letters, the exposure of their treachery, at daybreak (ipsi comprehensi ad me, cum iam dilucesceret, deducuntur [5]).398 Conveniently, a statue of

Jupiter had been erected on the Capitoline above the forum on the very day of this speech. This statue faced the same rising sun (20) which had greeted the letters’ delivery to the consul.399 Cicero further ties together Jupiter’s gaze with the unearthing of conspirator’s letters by using the same term (signum) for both the statue of Jupiter and the seals upon those tabellae.400 Cicero finally draws all these threads (the seen, the known, the light, the gaze of the divine, and the discovery of the conspiracy) together when he relates what a group of Etruscan haruspices had pronounced when they were consulted about this new statue:

ac se sperare dixerunt, si illud signum, quod videtis, solis ortum et forum curiamque conspiceret, fore ut ea consilia, quae clam essent inita contra salutem urbis atque imperii, inlustrarentur, ut a senatu populoque Romano perspici possent. (20)

Moreover, they said that they were hoping that if that statue, which you see, were to look upon the rising sun and the forum and the curia, that it would happen that these plans, which were secretly undertaken against the safety of the city and the empire, might be made visible so that they might be perceived by the senate and the Roman people.

397 Habinek (1998: 71) notes that this reference to the conspirators’ nocturnal activities also dramatizes how these men operate outside of and in opposition to the political authority of the state. 398 See also Konstan (1993: 14), who notes that Cicero consistently portrays himself as shining light upon Catiline’s concealed plans in the first Catilinarian speech. 399 On Cicero’s use of this statue within the rhetoric of his speech, see Vasaly (1993: 81-87). 400 Ferry (1968: 203).

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In Cicero’s rhetoric, the tabellae became the end result of this geometry of interconnected binaries: the visible and tangible proof (signum) of Catiline’s corruption and simultaneously confirmation of Jupiter’s compassionate gaze upon Rome. Indeed, the conspirators’ use of wax-tablets to swear oaths of alliance with Rome’s enemies and to plan the city’s destruction actually becomes comical from this perspective. After all, the

Gods of Rome make these tablets and their contents sacred. As such, the conspirators’ use of them is deeply ironic, while Jupiter’s intervention is only too fitting.401

Therefore, the conspirators’ choice of tabellae as the medium for these communiqués with the Allobroges and Cicero’s decision to emphasize this material evidence in his speech would seem to derive from a similar motive. The conspirators chose to use wax-tablets for these communications because they perceived this medium as the appropriate one for forging such an alliance, given the fact that other such momentous textual events (such as votive offerings, laws, wills, and contracts) were transacted through wax-tablets. Similarly, Cicero focuses on the physical form

(tabellae)402 and operation (signum and linum) of this medium and uses certain terms

(praescriptum, and ius iurandum) and even the structure of the oratio’s narrative in order to emphasize to his audience the serious and binding nature of the treasonous agreement into which these men entered.403 In this process, Cicero also appears to draw out

401 As Habinek (1998: 82-84) observes, a consistent theme throughout these speeches is Cicero’s portrayal of Catiline as a threat to the state due to his participation in a “perverted and parasitic religious system.” 402 In contrast, Sallust refers to these letters as litterae (Cat. 46.6 and 47.3), while Plutarch terms them γράµµατα (Cic. 18-19); that is, both refer to their linguistic contents rather than their material form (see L. Gavoille [2002]). Sallust’s decision to dwell on the contents (rather than the form of these letters) likely has to do with his use of letters in his narrative for ethopoetic purposes; that is, he employs letters to characterize Catiline rather than build a case against him; see Galtier (2006). 403 Contra Jenkins (2006: 75-79) who argues that Cicero deploys the conspirators’ letters only to “provoke speech, seemingly a more effective (and less doubt-plagued) medium than writing itself.” In my reading, it is the medium that lends authority to contents of the linguistic letter.

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deliberately not only this medium’s association with commercial ventures, but also its connection with religious rituals given how he dwells on Jupiter’s defense of Rome. By doing so, Cicero further validates Vasaly’s claim that he is far more than a rhetorician in this speech; he is a semiotician coordinating a whole series of sign systems, linguistic and visual.404 Nonetheless, Cicero does not conjure up new meanings for objects (such as the statue of Jupiter) within this speech, but instead exploits their existing cultural currency for his own persuasive goals. In this speech, Cicero deploys tabellae, a revered and authoritative medium in Roman society that could even possess a certain divine sanction, in order to convict and condemn these would-be revolutionaries. By recourse to this traditional and culturally powerful medium, Cicero likely also helped to counteract the crisis in legitimacy that Catiline’s revolution would have engendered for the Roman state.405 For the purposes of my argument, however, the key point is the fact that neither the conspirators nor Cicero treated letters written upon wax-tablets as ephemeral, but rather as the opposite.

This view of the sociology of codicilli/tabellae can deepen and complicate our earlier understanding of wax-tablets in Cicero’s Letters in a number of ways. First, it may help to explain why Roman epistolographers occasionally employed wax-tablets for letters that discussed financial matters. That Roman letter writers used wax-tablets for business letters is not a new observation; nonetheless, my focus on this medium’s larger sociology adds a greater depth of understanding to the association of wax-tablets with

404 Vasaly (1993: 11-14 and 76-81). Butler’s (2002: 100-101) similar contention that Cicero must have seemed like an “augur” to his audience due to his “deft interpretations of written documents” now seems a bit too apt a description, if not for the fact that augurs never interpreted written texts as part of their duties. 405 Konstan (1993: 11) notes that during times of revolution, such as the Catilinarian conspiracy, “the myths of public discourse become more transparent, and rhetoric must be pressed ever harder to sustain authority,” and Cicero’s speeches against Catiline can be read as just such a struggle.

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this particular discourse. The codicilli/tabellae offered the epistolary participants some assurance that the information in these documents was accurate. Composing a letter on wax-tablets may have been akin to the more modern ritual of signing a binding legal agreement or swearing upon the Bible or other sacred text. This could explain Atticus’ use of wax-tablets to discuss a matter like Marcus’ allowance (Att. 12.7.1-2 = SB 244). It seems that for a variety of reasons Roman epistolographers strongly associated business discourse with wax-tablets. Thus, this medium may have only seemed the natural choice to Atticus for discussing the matter of Marcus’ allowance. Second, I would note that

Cicero’s emphasis to Lepta that he used codicilli to consult Balbus about the implications of a new law (Fam. 6.18.1 = SB 218) might have served a persuasive goal rather than an informative one. While this detail does convey how promptly Cicero took action,

Cicero’s emphasis on the medium by which he consulted Balbus also reassures Lepta and their mutual supporters (qua re bono animo sint et tui et mei familiares) of the veracity of this information. Cicero is letting Lepta know how seriously he undertook this task and assuring him of the accuracy of this intelligence.

This understanding of the sociology of wax-tablets can also explain one of the more curious examples of the employment of wax-tablets in the Letters. In a letter from

June 45 BC, Cicero’s friend, S. Sulpicius Rufus, relates how he became informed of the murder of the former consul, Marcellus, who had been living in exile in Mytilene, but whom Caesar had recently recalled. Sulpicius begins this letter, however, not by announcing Marcellus’ death, but only by declaring that his letter contains ill tidings (etsi scio non iucundissimum me nuntium vobis allaturum, tamen, quoniam casus et natura in nobis dominatur, visum est faciendum, quoquo modo res se haberet, vos certiores facere

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[Fam. 4.12.1 = SB 253]). He then recounts how he had met with Marcellus in Athens

(where the latter was briefly staying on his way back to Rome) and discusses their parting

(Fam. 4.12.1 = SB 253). Only after this preamble does Sulpicius relate that a P.

Postumius has informed him that Magius, a friend and client of Marcellus, had attacked the former consul with a dagger.406 At that time, Marcellus was still alive and Postimius asked Sulpicius to send a doctor; however, things subsequently took a turn for the worse:

Cum non longe a Piraeeo abessem, puer Acidini obviam mihi venit cum codicillis, in quibus erat scriptum paulo ante lucem Marcellum diem suum obisse. Ita vir clarissimus ab homine deterrimo acerbissima morte est affectus, et, cui inimici propter dignitatem pepercerant, inventus est amicus, qui ei mortem offerret.

When I was not far from the Piraeus, Acidinus’ boy met me with wax-tablets, in which it had been written that Marcellus had passed away a little before dawn. In this fashion, a most famous man was afflicted with the bitterest death by a man of the lowest sort. His enemies had spared him on account of his merit; yet a friend was found who inflicted death upon him. (Fam. 4.12.2-3 = SB 253)

By structuring his narrative with a view towards putting the reader in maximum suspense,

Sulpicius’ account of Marcellus’ death becomes quite the drama. Sulpicius even appends a pithy and gnomic eulogy for the fallen consul. Within this stage-managed narrative,

Sulpicius also makes particular note that a set of codicilli brought him this news. The typical scholarly response to this text has been to rationalize the use of wax-tablets as the result of their convenience and speed.407 I prefer another explanation.

The inclusion of these codicilli in Sulpicius’ epistle appears calculated to serve the needs of this narrative’s account of Marcellus’ assassination. Previously, a messenger had been dispatched with an oral message to inform Sulpicius of Marcellus’ injuries

(Fam. 4.12.2 = SB 253). Yet, for Marcellus’ death, wax-tablets were dispatched. While a written message does seem advisable given that the city was likely rife with rumors

406 On this incident, see also Cic. Att. 13.10 = SB 318 and 13.22 = SB 329 and Liv. Epit. 115. 407 Guillaumont (2004: 135).

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after this calamitous event, Sulpicius’ declaration that he read of Marcellus’ death on codicilli (rather than the more neutral term litterae) is very striking. I would suggest that

Sulpicius is so exact in his description of the epistolary medium that announced

Marcellus’ death because this situation – a murder, and by a client no less – called for something to convey its gravity. Wax-tablets were the traditional medium by which

Roman commanders announced their victories.408 This usage of the medium is likely another consequence of the pervasive cultural esteem with which wax-tablets were held in Roman society. Marcellus’ death, although it provoked the opposite emotion, was no less momentous an event. As such, it was likely that Sulpicius drew attention to these wax-tablets in his account of Marcellus’ death because of this medium’s highly charged symbolic value. These codicilli could simultaneously express the seriousness of the event and guarantee its veracity.

Finally, we may consider one more example of wax-tablets’ usage, which not only further reinforces the preceding argument about the function of wax-tablets in

Roman society, but also suggests the potential greater complexity of this medium’s sociology. Cicero writes to his brother Quintus in February 54 BC:

epistulam hanc convicio efflagitarunt codicilli tui; nam res quidem ipsa et is dies, quo tu es profectus, nihil mihi ad scribendum argumenti sane dabat; sed, quemadmodum, coram cum sumus, sermo nobis deesse non solet, sic epistulae nostrae debent interdum alucinari. (2.10.1 = SB 14)

Your tablets vociferously demand this letter. For topic itself of the day on which you set out plainly gave me no material on which to write. Nonetheless, as our conversation is not accustomed to lack when we are together, so too ought our letters digress sometimes.

408 So Fest. p.490 (ed. Lindsay): tabellis pro chartis utebantur antiqui, quibus ultro citro, sive privatim sive publice opus erat, certiores absentes faciebant. Unde adhuc tabellari dicuntur, et tabellae missae ab imperatoribus. Cf. also Cic. Pis. 39, Livy 45.1, and Juv. 8.142. Meyer (2001: 203) observes that imperatores used tabellae since “the permanence of good news need emphasis.”

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Cicero’s complaint seems to be that Quintus has not used wax-tablets correctly. As we have seen, codicilli demand a reply; however, Quintus supplied no material to which

Cicero might respond since Quintus’ only topic in his letter appears to have been his day of departure (res quidem ipsa et is dies).409 This dearth of material leads Cicero to digress (alucinari) artfully on a number of topics: the senate’s decision on the political status of the small island of Tenedos, an off-hand, flattering mention of Quintus, and

Cicero’s middling appraisal of the work of a new poet by the name of Lucretius (2). The playful nature of these digressions only adds to the “waggish” tone that is present throughout this letter.410 Indeed, Cicero’s portrayal of these codicilli haranguing him for a response (convicio efflagitarunt) appears meant to allude in a similarly humorous fashion to the flagitatio,411 an example of “italische Volksjustiz” which involves “an insulting exhibition in someone’s presence or outside his house with a view to compelling him to make good or compensate for some disgraceful act.”412 Commonly, the reason for this public performance was non-payment of a debt.413 Cicero’s reference to the flagitatio thus serves only as further mockery of Quintus for his misuse of the codicilli. Quintus has demanded an epistolary repayment, although he has made no loan

(i.e. provided no material) to Cicero.

Cicero’s depiction of Quintus’ codicilli enacting a flagitatio is also interesting, given what this metaphor may suggest about how Cicero envisioned this medium

409 Ad loc. SB reads (and I concur) res quidem ipsa et is dies as “a sort of hendiadys.” Since the day of departure was Quintus’ only topic, this implies that Cicero’s pronouncement that Quintus’ codicilli harangued him is simply dramatic license. Convicium does not always imply audible abuse; cf. Quintus to Tiro: verberavi te cogitationis tacito dumtaxat convicio, quod fasciculus alter ad me iam sine tuis litteris perlatus est (Fam. 16.26.1). 410 So Marshall (1968: 16) describes the tone of this text. 411 Supra. On the flagitatio’s use in Roman society in general, see Usener (1901) and Lintott (1967). 412 Kelly (1966: 22). 413 Plaut. Trin. 612, Merc. 417, Curc. 198, and Epid. 516. Cf. also the usurer’s cry in Most. 603-605: cedo faenus, redde faenus, faenus reddite. daturin estis faenus actutum mihi? datur faenus mihi?

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operating in Roman society. By having a custom typically implicated with the non- payment of a monetary debt enacted by the wax-tablet, Cicero may be hinting at the historical and cultural connections that wax-tablets had with the commercial world.

More interesting, however, is the fact that while most letters call for a response from the addressee, Cicero implies that Quintus’ codicilli do not simply call for a response, but demand one voraciously.414 In fact, if the addressee did not reply, Cicero suggests that the addressee faced a communal reprimand in the form of the flagitatio. Now I am not suggesting that the failure to reply and return a set of codicilli actually resulted in an angry crowd of Romans besieging the house of the recipient of the codicilli. Rather, I am suggesting that Cicero’s reference to this Volksjustiz – like Catullus’ similar enactment of a flagitatio to regain a lost pair of tablets (42) – indicates that the circulation of wax- tablets operated under the gaze of the wider community since the dispatch of a letter on wax-tablets placed an obligation on the recipient to reply. That is to say, while wax- tablets possessed a certain cultural authority that vouchsafed for their contents, there appear to be other strong social forces that compel the recipient to act in a certain way.

From this perspective, we may better appreciate what a potent and effective epistolary instrument the medium of wax-tablets was for a Roman letter writer to deploy.

Codicilli operate under the interlinked sanction of a number of related social forces

(religious, social, and even commercial). Republican epistolographers of Cicero’s ranks likely would have internalized certain social imperatives when it came to this medium which prevented them from ignoring a message or transgressing in one’s conduct when making statements in this medium. It seems clear, then, that the medium of wax-tablets

414 Meyer (2001: 205) observes that tabellae in Plautus’ Pseudolus (46 and 73) seem to place a similar pressure on the young lover, Calidorus, to respond to his amica insofar as “to resist such a tabellae embodying a person is like resisting the beloved pleading with you in person.”

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did characterize the operation, circulation, and existence of the discourse of these texts in certain important fashions. Nonetheless, we need to exercise caution in how far we emphasize the sanctifying and coercive aspects of the sociology of this medium. There do appear to be situations in which the aura of wax-tablets were invoked for a variety of practical or persuasive reasons; however, I do not wish to suggest that all information exchanged under the banner of tablets was so august and so important. Tablets were used for a variety of purposes in Roman society, as I noted earlier, and Cicero’s reply to

Quintus’ codicilli actually hints at these other uses of wax-tablets in Roman society and thus suggests a more nuanced and multifaceted sociology for this medium. While its flagitatio conceit relies on the special form of discourse which codicilli engender,

Cicero’s reply (which was likely also written upon wax-tablets)415 is otherwise populated with teasing excursions from one topic to another, some important and some not. Like

Calvus and Catullus playing at poetry on the wax-tablets,416 Cicero’s letter seems predicated on the playful nature of wax-tablets as an arena for literary diversion. In this particular letter, I would suggest that we see a crossing of signals between wax-tablet as an august and authoritative medium in Roman society and wax-tablets as the technology of the first-draft. Both associations exert their influence on Cicero’s reply. Thus, on the one hand, Cicero treats this letter with great solemnity and as compelling him to respond and pay his epistolary debt. On the other hand, Cicero teases Quintus for mishandling

415 Again, my inference is based upon two observations: 1) since Quintus wrote via codicilli, Cicero’s reply would likely be via wax-tablets because that is how this medium worked; and 2) Cicero’s reply is rather brief which seems to be a consequence of using this particular medium. 416 Catull. 50.1-6: hesterno, Licini, die otiose / multum lusimus in meis tabellis, / ut conuenerat esse delicatos: / scribens uersiculos uterque nostrum / ludebat numero modo hoc modo illoc, / reddens mutua per iocum atque uinum.

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this medium and instead treats this tablet as an opportunity for writing down a stream of thoughts as if he were composing a first draft of something.

In sum, we can conclude that wax-tablets possessed a far more complex sociology than scholarship has previously allowed. Roman epistolographers could employ wax- tablets for casual (and sometimes artful) notes as previous scholarship has asserted.

Nonetheless, it appears clear that republican letter writers also regularly and commonly utilized codicilli/tabellae for both the exchange of serious information and for forging important compacts between parties.417 This latter part of the medium’s sociology in epistolography derives its basis from the use of wax-tablets in religious and commercial practices. In these spheres, and in the world of Roman letter-writing, wax-tablets possessed an aura of authority which transformed its discourse. As a result, we find epistolographers such as Cicero, Atticus, and Sulpicius all exploiting this sociology for various practical and rhetorical purposes.

II The Ethical Choice

On the “book” in antiquity and how it differs from an inscription on a drinking cup or a funerary stele, Florence Dupont comments:

The book therefore differs from the other supports for writing in that it is autonomous. What is written on it is read for itself and not because it is written or scratched on an object. One can therefore already classify Roman books according to what motivates their reading and so distinguish the literary book from the others.418

Dupont’s statement, which divorces literature from its material infrastructure, reflects the larger scholarly tendency to naturalize papyrus as the medium for literary endeavors to

417 Eidinow and Taylor (2010) propose a similar sociology for the medium of lead in Greek epistolography. They are slow to bring to this to forefront, however, since they are primarily interested in this medium’s linguistic contents. 418 Dupont (2009: 144).

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such an extent as to remove papyrus from scholarly consideration altogether. To those of

Dupont’s persuasion, the fact that literature in the ancient world was written upon papyrus is as expected as the pope’s Catholicism. One cannot exist without the other. In what follows, however, I will take issue with this idea that the book was not an inscribed object. I want to suggest that we need to reintroduce papyrus into our consideration of the meaning of Latin literary texts. Charta was too far from a neutral medium which happened to bear a text upon its surface – and it is epistolography, I believe, which makes the symbolic value of papyrus for Roman culture most apparent.

I start my discussion of the sociology of papyrus by taking one last look at wax- tablets and Cicero’s use of them in his methodology of letter-writing. In the midst of

Caesar’s dictatorship, Cicero pens a letter to his philosophically inclined friend Papirius

Paetus while attending a dinner party.419 He writes:

accubueram hora nona, cum ad te harum exemplum in codicillis exaravi. dices: “ubi?” apud Volumnium Eutrapelum, et quidem supra me Atticus, infra Verrius, familiares tui. miraris tam exhilaratam esse servitutem nostram? quid ergo faciam? – te consulo, qui philosophum audis. angar? excruciem me? quid assequar? deinde quem ad finem? “vivas," inquis, “in litteris.” an quicquam me aliud agere censes aut posse vivere, nisi in litteris viverem? (Fam. 9.26.1 = SB 197)

I had reclined at half-past two in the afternoon, when I scribbled out a copy of this letter to you on wax-tablets. You will say: “Where?” At the house of Volumnius Eutrapelus, and, as it happens, Atticus is above me, Verrius below – both friends of yours. Are you surprised that our subjugation is so cheery? But what should I do? I ask your advice, you who are a student of philosophy. Should I be distressed? Should I torture myself? What would I gain? For how long? “May you live,” you say, “in your writings.” Do you suppose that I do anything else or I am able to live, unless I should live in my writings?

There is something decidedly modern about this picture. Cicero “texts” at the table and curates his “life” as it happens rather than living it, as if epistles were the ancient

419 On Cicero’s relationship with Paetus, see Demmel (1962).

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equivalent of Facebook.420 By doing so, Cicero is already enacting Paetus’ advice. He is living not in the moment, but in litteris;421 that is, Cicero is living within his own “written republic,” rather than in Caesar’s res publica.422 Cicero’s letter to Paetus is an enactment of this attitude, as Cicero textualizes this servitus exhilarata, which the dinner party partly represents, and turns it into an opportunity to discuss how to live in Caesar’s state.

Thus, Cicero fashions a breezy air of nonchalance, writing in real time and making the absent Paetus a guest at this dinner party by having him speak and react at various moments (cf. dices, miraris, inquisque);423 nonetheless, this letter is anything but casual or hastily composed.424 Cicero rehearses arguments about the new reality of Rome which we often find in the prefaces to his philosophical works, 425 while simultaneously dropping choice bits of gossip (Antony’s former mistress, the mime Cytheris, attended the dinner!).426 In short, this letter aims to recreate otium, while at the same time seeking to transform this otium into a new form of negotium.

As such, the codicilli, upon which Cicero wrote this letter, becomes a prop within this narrative of politicized leisure. Cicero’s opening remark that he scribbled (exaravi) a version (exemplum) of this letter on a set of wax-tablets while reclining at the party

420 Cicero writes letters in social circumstances that a modern reader might find inappropriate; see Büchner (1947: 1207). 421 The conventional translation for litterae in this passage is “books;” however, as I try to demonstrate in my discussion, Cicero likely had something more expansive in mind for litterae. 422 On Cicero’s desire to textualize the state and create a “written republic” in opposition to the current res publica, see Gurd (2007) and Baraz (2012). 423 Roesch (2000: 99-100) notes that through such mimesis of in-person dialogue the letter writer seeks to obscure the temporal and spatial distance that separates him from the addressee. 424 Leach (1999: 150) describes this letter’s narrative as a “strip tease” with Cicero slowly unveiling to Paetus various facts about this dinner. See also Henderson’s (2007) deliberately casual article on the calculated nonchalance of Cicero’s correspondence with his brother. 425 Baraz (2012: 61-62) rightly notes that Cicero’s view of the value of such a res publica scripta is far more jaundiced in this letter than it is in the prefaces to his philosophical works. 426 On Cytheris and Cicero’s awkward relationship with her, see Traina (1991: 91-96) and Keith (2011: 39- 41). The fact that Antony’s mistress Cytheris attended the dinner has received hostile critical notice: e.g., Carcopino (1951a: 85).

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would seem designed to add to this atmosphere of insouciance. Yet this reference to epistolary materiality actually puts the epistle’s artfulness on display. Cicero’s statement that he originally wrote this epistle on codicilli implies that he sent not the tablets, but instead a papyrus letter to Paetus.427 These are not codicilli to be exchanged by correspondents, but rather an aid in the creation of a first draft. That is to say, in this passage Cicero is not activating the sociology of the wax-tablets found in the religious and legal spheres, but rather is playing with their cultural associations with respect to the production of literary works – just as we saw him do in that previously discussed letter to

Quintus. Cicero’s epistula is, in fact, as casual and natural as Catullus’ account of his night of poetry with Calvus.428 Wax-tablets make an appearance in that poem as well, with Calvus and Catullus swapping verses upon tabellae while they are at their leisure

(hesterno, Licini, die otiosi / multum lusimus in meis tabellis [50.1-2]). The final words of the two opening lines (otiosi / tabellis) are obviously intimately connected in this poem. I would suggest that the wax-tablets which we spy in this letter to Paetus serve a very similar purpose to the tabellae of Catullus’ epistolary carmen: to signal a space of otium and to intimate the carefully crafted nature of this letter.

Yet if wax-tablets operate as a trope in this passage, how does papyrus (the actual medium for this epistle) function in this epistolary transaction? This letter appears to conform to the rough limit of text for a wax-tablet letter.429 In theory, Cicero could have sent this letter via wax-tablets; however, he chose not to do so. Why did Cicero feel a

427 This point has caused some problems for commentators. New Testament scholars Haines-Eitzen (2000: 35) and Richards (1991: 3) misread this passage and assume amusingly that Cicero is copying out a finished letter into his “notebook.” T.-P. and SB ad loc. as well as Guillaumont (2004: 134) agree that this letter was on papyrus. 428 In fact, Quinn (1973: 236) notes that Catull. 50 bears a very strong similarity to two of Cicero’s epistles: Att. 9.10 = SB 177 and Fam. 7.22 = SB 331. 429 Cf. Guillaumont (2004: 134).

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need to have this letter copied onto papyrus before sending it? Guillaumont suggests that

Cicero used papyrus since this technology would better allow Paetus to preserve and display this “petite œuvre littéraire.”430 Our previous discussion, however, should call into question this sort of explanation. Romans often used this medium for their most important textual transactions and wax-tablets were evidently preserved and archived, as we have seen. More productively, we might note that the general sociology of wax- tablets would not appear a ready match for this letter since it contains little of the sort of discourse which typically exemplifies a wax-tablet. Cicero converses on philosophy, sex, and food in an artfully casual fashion. There is no discussion of money or laws or an exchange of sacred promises. Indeed, as I noted, Cicero would appear intent on activating non-epistolary sociological aspects of wax-tablets in this passage by treating it as a trope for literary productions. Nonetheless, to conclude that Cicero redacted this letter onto papyrus because the discourse of this text was not appropriate for wax-tablets is only half an explanation. I would suggest that the other half of the explanation for why

Cicero used papyrus for this letter is inseparable from the much larger question: why did

Cicero and other aristocratic correspondents prefer to utilize predominantly papyrus for their private correspondence? The answer to this larger question, I would argue, resides in understanding not the technological advantages which papyrus offered, but the larger cultural meaning and context of charta.

As Pliny the Elder states in the preface to his discussion of the manufacture of papyrus (NH 13.74-82), “civilized life (certainly, the preservation of it) depends chiefly on the employment of papyrus” (cum chartae usu maxime humanitas vitae constet, certe

430 Supra.

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memoria [13.68]).431 Pliny’s assertion that Roman elite culture (humanitas) relied upon papyrus for its continued survival and reproduction is more profound than it may initially seem. Much of Roman elite culture involved appropriated and confiscated Greek cultural discourses (philosophy, comedy, epic, sculpture and so on).432 These appropriations put on display Rome’s ambition to be the cultural and intellectual successor to Greece. The material infrastructure of Roman aristocratic book culture only further emphasized the creation of this narrative on Rome’s part. The architecture of the Roman library posited

Latin literature’s continuity with its Greek antecedent since it contained two chambers for bibliographic holdings (one for Greek and one for Roman books).433 The importation and use of papyrus similarly affirmed Rome’s conviction that it was the inheritor and protector of Greece’s cultural patrimony since charta was the medium for these appropriated Hellenistic discourses. 434 Thus, Roman elites made a strong cultural statement through their use of papyrus, simply by virtue of the genealogy of the medium.

As it happens, Rome’s imperial project had not only made this appropriation of

Greek culture possible, but also necessary. Any aristocracy partially founds its authority on control of the cultural narrative. Wallace-Hadrill notes:

The shift of culture from the local to the universal, driven by the impulse to make Roman conquests Roman, necessitates a revolutionary shift of authority. In a system of local knowledge, a predominantly hereditary elite can act as custodians of knowledge. Their authority in Roman society is indissolubly linked to their ability to define the Roman.435

431 Humanitas, although somewhat nebulous, seems to typify a certain elite ethos; cf. see Hellegouarc’h 1963: 267-271. 432 On appropriated Greek discourses, see Habinek (1994). 433 Makowiecka (1978: 27). 434 The adoption of papyrus and the creation of Roman literature seem to coincide; see Lewis (1974: 88) and Achard (1991: 55-58). 435 Wallace-Hadrill (1997: 20-21).

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The vast expansion of the Roman Empire from the Punic Wars onward had caused havoc for the Roman elite’s ability to maintain its privileged station in a newly imperialist society and thus these cultural appropriations can be seen as an over-determined response on the aristocracy’s part. An aristocrat is after all one “who lays claim to special privileges on the basis of a connection with an authorizing past.”436 To claim their special privileges, these Roman aristocrats were forced to incorporate Greece and Greek culture (both discursive and material) within their system of knowledge (‘their authorized past’). In doing so, they both retained their dominant societal position and further claimed an epistemological dominion over their conquered territories while adding a justification for their rule.

Cicero and his correspondents’ employment of papyrus in epistolography cannot be separated from these politics of cultural appropriation. We must remember that other options for use as a medium for epistolography existed. For example, Roman letter- writers could have used parchment, as they did in late antiquity;437 Romans were familiar with parchment from the second century BC.438 Additionally, they could have employed locally produced wooden tablets, as archaeologists have found at the frontier fort of

Vindolanda in northern England.439 Instead, Cicero and his correspondents chose to utilize an imported material charged with cultural politics. The reason cannot be because papyrus was abundant and always at hand. Papyrus was produced almost exclusively in

Egypt and shortages were not unknown.440 In 51 BC, Cicero sent a package of papyrus to

436 Habinek (1998: 45). 437 Birt (1882: 61-62); however, it was also used in ancient Jewish culture (cf. Josp. Ant. 12.2 and Strabo 719). 438 Romans seem to have been introduced to parchment in the early second century BC; cf. Johnson (1970: passim). 439 On the materiality of these tablets, see Bowman (1975). 440 Cf. Plin. NH. 13.89 and Lewis (1974: 90).

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Atticus since the latter’s supplies had run short; in addition, Cicero makes clear that he understands the supply of letters to be coterminous with that of papyrus (etsi paene praeterii chartam tibi deesse. mea captio est, si quidem eius inopia minus multa ad me scribis [Att. 5.44.4 = SB 97]).441 Even the reuse of papyrus could create awkward moments. We saw how Cicero criticized Trebatius for utilizing a papyrus palimpsest as the medium for a letter (Fam. 7.18.2 = SB 37), although there were obviously more complex social operations at work in that epistolary transaction. Cicero and his social cohort’s use of papyrus for their epistolary needs reflects a deliberate and telling choice on their part. Republican epistolographers were positioning themselves within a particular social and cultural location through their employment of papyrus for their epistulae given the privileged position of charta within the Roman cultural economy.

Papyrus was the medium for important ‘literary’ discourses which were central to a

Roman elite male’s self conception. By stating this, however, I do not want to suggest that letters are a form of ‘literature;’ rather, I wish to explore how the material homology between the more literary discourses and the discourse of epistulae implies that epistolography was another one of those discursive practices upon which Roman aristocrats centered their claim to social dominance.

A misunderstood, yet revealing moment in the history of Roman epistolography can further demonstrate that the nearness between letters and literature in material forms is deliberate and hermeneutically meaningful. In his biography of Caesar, Suetonius details the future dictator’s innovation when he dispatched reports to the senate regarding his activities in Gaul. Suetonius writes:

441 We see in P.Flor. 3.367 another example of one correspondent endowing the other with papyrus.

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epistulae quoque eius ad senatum extant, quas primum uidetur ad paginas et formam memorialis libelli conuertisse, cum antea consules et duces non nisi transuersa charta scriptas mitterent (Div. Jul. 56).

Likewise, his letters to the senate survive, which seem the first to have been adapted into the columnated form of a memorialis libellus, since previously consuls and commanders were not sending letters unless written against the grain of the papyrus.

This passage has occasioned much comment in the last century, with not all of it productive.442 It appears that previously Roman commanders had sent their reports to the senate on sheets of papyrus written against the fiber (transuersa charta).443 This was not an uncommon practice for documents generated by the Roman bureaucracy and military.444 Caesar’s innovation, however, was to redact his letters to the senate onto a single papyrus scroll (memorialis libellus) 445 and to format this text into columns

(paginae) written with the grain of the papyrus.446 As a result of these alterations in the physical format for these letters, Caesar transformed his epistulae ad senatum into a cohesive narrative for his activities in Gaul, or (to put it another way) Caesar appears to have converted a series of perfunctory epistolary reports into something of a literary object,447 which circulated amongst the literate set in Rome.448 Such a text would

442 Roberts (1933) and Roberts and Skeat (1983: 18-19) suggest that this passage may refer to the first codex, although they do not commit themselves to this reading. See van Haelst (1989: 18-20) for a correction of their interpretation. 443 See Turner (1978). Morelli (2010: 87) notes a possible reason for the use of transversa charta texts: it is easier for the writer to estimate in advance how much text he will need for the document. 444 Supra. Meyer (2004: 190-191) notes that diplomata (bureaucratic documents) in Roman Egypt were also written transversa charta, while Vergote (1946: 256-257) notes that such transversa charta letters resemble an enteuxis document, such as are found in Ptolemaic Egypt. In addition, the ink written tablets found at Vindolanda and Carlisle show this split, with letters written with the grain of wood and reports against it; see Bowman and Thomas (1994: 41-46) and Tomlin (1998: 35) respectively. 445 The meaning of libellus memorialis is unclear. The main issue is that libellus memorialis corresponds to ὑπόµνηµα in Greek, which itself can refer either to commentarii or a collection of petitiones to a magistrate (LSJ 5 vs. 6). Ebbeler (2003: 11), after conducting a survey of literary sources, believes that it is the former, while van Helst (20), Bömer (1953: 247-248), and Vergote (1946: 257) think the latter. 446 Paginae refer to columns, not pages (as Ebbeler [2003: 9] believes); cf. Dziatzko (1899: 838). 447 Ebbeler (2003: 9-11).

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naturally be a valuable tool of propaganda since it would allow Caesar to tell his version of the happenings in Gaul and counter competing, hostile narratives.449

For our purposes, however, Suetonius’ account of this memorialis libellus is useful because it reveals important information about Roman textual culture. First, it further discloses how this culture discriminated between different types of discourses. In this instance, we find the material topography of these texts to be the key distinction: bureaucratic documents were written against the grain of papyrus and more literary texts were written with it. Caesar manipulated this semiology in order to assure a certain reception for his reports. This observation leads to my second point: where should we plot private correspondence (such as Cicero’s epistulae) on this map? We know that

Cicero wrote his letters with columns,450 presumably along the grain of the papyrus.451

As with Caesar’s epistulae ad senatum, Cicero’s correspondence was also later redacted into scrolls. We know that Cicero pasted Atticus’ letters together into a volumen (nam cum ad hunc locum venissem, evolvi volumen epistularum tuarum quod ego _{signo habeo servoque diligentissime [Att. 9.10.4 = SB 177]). In addition, Nepos informs us that}

Atticus did something similar with Cicero’s letters (undecim volumina epistularum ab consulatu eius usque ad extremum tempus ad Atticum missarum [Att. 16]), and it is generally suspected that these volumina represent the origin of the Ad Atticum

448 Pace Ebbeler (2003: 9-11) and contra Nice (2003: 83). One’s interpretation depends somewhat on how we translate libellus memorialis; however, whatever Caesar intended, it seems clear that this libellus was quickly adopted and circulated by the reading public, as evidenced by its survival (extant) a century later. Vergote (1946: 257) notes that the end result of this format is for the letters to become a volumen. 449 Osgood (2009: 338-339). 450 Often Cicero and his correspondents cite particular columns within the text (pagina or pagella) as causing particular excitement or needing reply (Att. 6.2.1/3 = SB 116, 13.34.1 = SB 350, 15.19.2 = SB 396; Fam. 2.8.3 = SB 80, 11.25.2 = SB 420, 16.14.1 = SB 41). 451 Cicero’s remark about a line from one of Atticus’ letters being at a right angle to the rest of text suggests that these epistulae had this orientation: nunc venio ad transversum illum extremae epistulae tuae versiculum in quo me admones de sorore (Att. 5.1.3 = SB 94). Latin papyri letters evince this format, which interestingly differs from Greek papyri letters that were almost always written with only one column; see Bowman and Thomas (1994: 41).

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collection.452 Taken together, Suetonius’s account of Caesar’s inventive libellus and the afterlife of Cicero’s epistulae would suggest that there was a thin and permeable line of materiality separating letters (particularly, private epistulae, like those of Cicero) from the more literary discourses. A few alterations in the material semiotics of a text and a series of letters became a literary liber. This point is worth dwelling upon.

Roman epistolographers could have differentiated letters from literary books in stronger material terms, if they had wanted to do so. For example, they could have written their letters on charta transversa, on another medium, or formatted them without columns. They did not. Roman letter writers even appeared to have used the highest quality papyrus for their epistles.453 This very material similarity between letters and literary textual artifacts (both in terms of the medium used and its topography) seems significant to me. Here again I emphasize that I do not intend to rehearse old and unproductive debates about whether Cicero’s Letters are ‘literature,’454 particularly since the concept of ‘literature’ is sometimes difficult to locate in Roman culture.455 Rather, I want to entertain the idea that the very consanguinity between letters and what we would term more ‘literary’ texts (such as poetry, historiography, oratory, and philosophy), insinuates a deeper connection between these discourses in terms of their ideological function in Roman society. That is, just like those other discourses, letters act as a forum

452 For a discussion of the origin of the Ad Atticum collection, see Shackleton Bailey (1965). 453 According to Pliny the Elder (NH 13. 74-80), charta augusta had previously been the highest quality variety of papyrus until the Emperor Claudius introduced a new type called claudia charta; however, Pliny notes: Augustae in epistulis auctoritas relicta. See also Isid. Orig. 6.10.2-5. Martial mentions a kind of papyri termed chartae epistulares (14.11), which likely corresponds to the charta augusta; cf. Skeat (1995: 92 n.2). 454 See my introduction for a review of this debate. 455 The closest term in Latin to the English ‘literature’ is litterae, which obviously also encompasses letters and a whole host of other species of text. In what follows, I do not wish to imply that there was a discrete category of discourses and genres which correspond to our notion of literature. Rather, I speak of literary discourses as a convenient shorthand for those genres of Latin texts which literary scholars usually study.

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in which elite males might display their mastery of certain forms of cultural capital (elite literacy) in order to accumulate the further symbolic capital of being recognized as a legitimate member of the Roman overclass.456 Moreover, I would contend that how

Cicero conceptualizes papyrus in his epistulae helps to demonstrate further this sociopolitical function of epistolography in republican society.

In Cicero’s rhetoric in the Letters, papyrus is not just the surface upon which letter-writing occurs, but also becomes representative of this very cultural refinement, which adroitness at certain literary practices is supposed to demonstrate. For example, in a letter to his brother from August 54 BC, Cicero begins by commenting upon the materiality of his epistula:

Calamo bono et atramento temperato, charta etiam dentata, res agetur; scribis enim te meas litteras superiores vix legere potuisse, in quo nihil eorum, mi frater, fuit, quae putas; neque enim occupatus eram neque perturbatus nec iratus alicui, sed hoc facio semper, ut, quicumque calamus in manus meas venerit, eo sic utar, tamquam bono. (Q.fr. 2.15.1 = SB 19)

The matter will be conducted with a good quality quill, well-mixed ink, and even polished papyrus. For you wrote that you could barely read my previous letter. The reason for this was not any of those that you supposed, my brother. For I was not busy, troubled, or angry at someone. But I always do this – to use whatever quill came into my hands, as if it were a good one.

Although this letter would appear to give clear testimony about Cicero’s material practice when penning an epistle, I would suggest that this letter is actually about legibility writ large. As we learn, Quintus had asked his elder brother in the previous letter whether he should return from Gaul that year. Moreover, he requested that Cicero reply with fraternal candor (ingenue fraterneque) and without concealment, deception, or concern

456 See also Habinek (2009: 123) on literacy as a ritual to be mastered and also Hopkins (1991: 142-143) on how elite literacy creates a “depoliticised upper class.” In addition, Achard (1991: 146-149) notes the incredible frequency with which Roman aristocrats exchanged letters and the rhetorical acumen that defined such missives.

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for Quintus’ feelings (nihil occultans, nihil dissimulans, nihil tibi indulgens [2]). The materiality of Cicero’s letter, then, would seem to correspond closely with Quintus’ desired manner and style for that epistula. At Quintus’ request, Cicero has taken care to ensure that his thoughts are as clear as possible to his brother, both materially and discursively. As a result, the opening remarks of this letter need to be viewed cautiously since they would appear to represent less a proclamation of Cicero’s material epistolary practices than a programmatic statement on how to read this particular letter.

Additionally, this sort of synecdoche, with medium standing in for message, is not an isolated incident. In a short letter to Atticus while he was traveling to Cilicia, Cicero concluded by stating, “you have a letter full of haste and dust; future letters will be more refined (habes epistulam plenam festinationis et pulveris; reliquae subtiliores erunt [Att.

5.14.3 = SB 107]). Cicero’s rhetoric again plays on the slippage that occurs between the material form and the linguistic contents of a letter. Romans had different grades of papyrus based upon the thinness and quality of the papyrus, with the thinner being regarded as the better kind.457 By stating that future epistulae will be subtiliores, after already drawing attention to the material state of the present letter,458 Cicero appears to conflate the physical form of the papyrus sheet with the corresponding quality of its written contents.459 For Cicero, then, the medium is the message and one can judge a book by its cover. A critic might suggest that Cicero’s statement in this letter is just rhetoric, and rightly so; however, I would contend that it does not matter if Atticus could actually detect a material difference between this letter and later ones. What matters is

457 Cf. Pliny (NH 13. 74-80). 458 L. Gavoille (2002) notes how epistula (as opposed to litterae) draws attention to the letter as object. 459 The adjective subtilis can mean “refined” in both the material and cultural sense (OLD 1 vs. 2/3).

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that Cicero could create a link rhetorically between materiality and discursive practices since such an act had important implications for Roman elite culture, as we shall see.

Cicero’s equation of the state of the charta and the quality of the letter’s text is, of course, not without a pedigree or an afterlife. Cicero’s rhetoric in these passages concerning papyrus that is polished or refined (dentata subtilioresque) should remind us of the poetic topos of the freshly scrubbed libellus, which is found in Catullus and his successors. For these poets, the book of verse became subtly and not so subtly a body and the care applied to this body (with all its cultural connotations) became representative of the attention given to the libellus’ poetry.460 This poetic metaphor finds its basis in the fact that the papyrus scroll had a long history of being configured as a body. It had a brow (frons), navel (umbilicus), and even horns (cornua). 461 Thus, Catullus can problematize the loss of authorial control which occurs when a text is published by portraying his libellus, “recently polished by a dry pumice stone” (arida modo pumice expolitum [1.2]), in a manner which recalls the depilatory use of the pumice stone on the human body. Similarly, Horace can make this trope explicit when he describes his book of Epistles polished by a pumice stone (pumice mundus) and eager to prostitute itself

(prostes) when it is on the point of publication (1.20.1-2). Finally, Ovid can send his book to Rome and make this liber a pathetic substitute for its exiled author (Tr. 1).462 In each of these cases, the book – or, more exactly, the papyrus – becomes metaphor for the quality of the content of the text and the state of the author. Although he does not stretch this metaphor to quite the same limits as the poets do, we can see Cicero engaging in a similar literary game in his epistles when he collapses the difference between the medium

460 Kennerly’s (2010) dissertation on such “corpus care” discusses these issues at length. 461 See Farrell (2007: 184-185) for a discussion. 462 See Hinds’ (1985) excellent discussion of the metapoetics of this work.

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and message.

Nevertheless, I would note that Cicero did on occasion conceive of his letters as embodied entities with a certain agency to them, just as the poets had done. When he worries about a letter being intercepted, Cicero comments to Atticus: “I will write to you briefly about politics, for I am terrified that the papyrus itself may betray me” (de re

breviter ad te scribam; iam enim charta ipsa ne nos prodat pertimesco [Att.

2.20.3 = SB 40]). In this instance, Cicero sees his letter as akin to a political informer.

Likewise, there is Cicero’s interaction with a letter from Appius Claudius Pulcher. In a letter celebrating the latter’s acquittal in a maiestas trial, Cicero comments: “so I congratulated myself, embracing absent you with my thoughts, and even kissing the letter” (complexus igitur sum cogitatione te absentem, epistulam vero osculatus etiam ipse mihi gratulatus sum [Fam. 3.11.2]). Cicero kisses the letter as a stand-in for Pulcher.

In doing so, Cicero makes the letter stand in for Pulcher, or (perhaps better stated) he displaces Pulcher onto his letter.

There is an interesting crosspollination of this metaphor, with the papyrus not only conceived as a bodily entity with agency, but also with people conceived as sheets of papyrus. Thus, Cicero can speak of Atticus “pasting together friendships with his testimonies” (tu soles conglutinare amicitias testimoniis tuis [Att. 7.8.1 = SB 131]) or declare to Matius: “this long lasting departure of yours, our campaigning, and different paths in life have not allowed our dispositions to be glued together by regular interaction

(tuus deinde discessus isque diuturnus, ambitio nostra et vitae dissimilitudo non est passa voluntates nostras consuetudine conglutinari [Fam. 11.27.2 = SB 348]).463 In a similar fashion, we find Cicero commenting upon his favorite project, the concordia ordinum,

463 On the complicated politics of Cicero’s relationship with Matius, see Hall (2009: 60-62).

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thus: “so maintaining my undertaken policy, I watch over (as I can) the peace fashioned by me” (sic ego conservans rationem institutionemque nostram tueor, ut possum, illam a me conglutinatam concordiam [Att. 1.17.10 = SB 17]). In each of these passages, Cicero conceives of social relations within the horizon of material textuality. Relationships between both individuals and social classes are “glued together”464 just like the pages of papyrus within a scroll.465 The reversibility of the metaphor is significant since it suggests a deeply embedded way of thinking that structured Cicero’s conception of the world.466 Literate elite Roman men such as Cicero not only thought of papyrus as an embodied being and sometimes as a person, but also inverted the metaphor and conceived of people within the horizon of papyrus.

I have emphasized this point because I believe that the metaphorics of papyrus in

Cicero’s Letters demonstrate the meaning of papyrus in Roman elite culture. There is a series of displacements that we glimpse at work in these passages. The medium becomes equivalent to the message in Cicero’s rhetoric; however, on other occasions, the medium comes to stand in for the individual and the individual can sometimes become akin to the medium of papyrus. That is, Cicero often conflates the medium, the message, and the writer as he loses track of where one ends and the other begins, and these displacements are telling. Papyrus was the medium for the practice of culturally esteemed discursive practices and such high-level literacy was one of the defining characteristics of a Roman

464 L&S II.a describes this metaphorical meaning as “a favorite trope” of Cicero’s. 465 For example, in June 56 BC, Cicero expresses gratitude to Atticus for loaning to him slaves, who organized his library – a task which included adding new pages to books by gluing in additional ones (Att. 4.4a.1 = SB 78). 466 Not all metaphors are so easily reversed and many are rather isolated and lonely; cf. Lakoff and Johnson (2003: 52-55).

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aristocrat.467 Thus, we might expect to find Roman aristocrats freely mapping these three elements upon one another since each defined the other and their places within the social hierarchy. Since it was the medium for elite discursive practices, charta came to represent and epitomize the defining cultural achievement of elite level literacy, which authorized and justified the aristocrat’s elevated place within the Roman community.

The importance of papyrus to the healthy functioning of the Roman ruling class cannot be overstated. As the Roman Empire grew, the republican aristocracy became less united by geography and more connected by their shared culture – and papyrus was the site of this elite culture. To use a metaphor that Cicero would appreciate: papyrus (and the discursive practices carried out upon it) glued together the disparate pieces of aristocracy into one cohesive whole. As such, papyrus truly embodied McLuhan’s dictum that the medium is the message. Charta opened up a new space within the psychic landscape of

Roman culture and, as a result, the presence of this medium by itself had as great an effect upon society as any message which the medium broadcasts.468

We can conclude, then, that the effect of the sociology of papyrus upon a discourse was to elevate and transform it into a forum for displaying and proving one’s elite status through one’s discursive practices. In this way, ancient papyrus may be described as an inscribed artifact, read not only for its contents, but also because of the material object on which it was inscribed. Through its genealogy and topography, charta became a privileged material commodity within the Roman cultural economy, upon which Roman writers literally and literarily carved out their claims to elite status. While it differs in certain aspects (particularly in the imagined scope of its audience) from the

467 On literacy levels in the late Republic, see Harris (1989: 248-259); on epistolary literacy, see Poster (2002: 123-124). 468 See McLuhan (1964: 7).

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traditional literary discourses of Roman society, epistulae do, however, represent another similarly privileged and culturally esteemed discursive practice for elite males to internalize and over which to compete – as is partially proven by the fact that elite letter- writing was done upon charta. Thus, as Cicero feared, papyrus does betray its user; however, such treachery actually occurs in every use of this medium since the epistula represented a window into the epistolographers’ habitus.469 If Roman culture had not cared for epistolography to be a constant betrayal of the letter writer’s habitus, care would have been taken to separate this discourse from the more literary ones through larger distinctions in the material form of the epistula, such as was done with transversa charta military reports; however, this did not happen. Instead, epistulae largely looked the same as poetic, historical, oratorical, and philosophic texts in Roman textual culture, excluding the personalized handwriting of epistulae (which, as we saw, became an opportunity for another sociopolitical game for the Roman elite). As a result of the small material distinction that divided letters from literature, we find that litterae could become that other type of litterae very easily, as the compilation and publication of Cicero’s

Letters demonstrate.470

This sociology should explain why Cicero transferred his “petite œuvre littéraire” onto papyrus before sending it to Paetus. As a display of his literary skill, Cicero could not imagine sending this text on another medium, even if he did compose this letter on wax-tablets and it would thus have been easier to send his letter via that medium. Indeed, in retrospect Cicero’s reference to his usage of codicilli to compose this letter seems

469 So Butler’s (2011: 73) conclusion that papyrus marked a zone of trust between intimates since it cannot be erased partially comprehends this larger sociology of papyrus. 470 See Beard (2002) who largely dismantled the idea that the Letters were perceived as simple historical documents in antiquity.

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designed only to dramatize the artful nature of this epistle. These wax-tablets were never epistolary in nature and Cicero always planned to have his litterae transferred onto papyrus, since this medium indicated to Paetus that this text was “literary” in the sense that it was a demonstration of elite discursive practices. That is to say, through his use of charta and his mastery of the patrician ritual of letter-writing, Cicero revealed himself to

Paetus to be a member of this exclusive club (and likewise recognized Paetus as a member).471 Similarly, Cicero understood that Atticus had to have papyrus upon which to write his epistulae since both elements defined and reinforced the other’s meaning. By using papyrus and using it as they did, Roman epistolographers repeatedly performed and demonstrated their elite status to each other.

Conclusions

Codicilli/tabellae and charta characterize the operation, circulation, and existence of the discourses which these media contain; however, their influence is not technologically determined, but rather culturally driven. A unique sociology developed around both of these media, which largely dictated how, when, and why Roman epistolographers would use either medium for their epistulae. As I suggested at the outset, what largely defines the differences in sociologies between wax-tablets and papyrus is their focus. Wax-tablets put the focus upon the message of the letter in such a way as to guarantee its veracity and accuracy. Due to their use in religious practices, wax-tablets had an aura of sacrosanctity, which made them the appropriate medium for conducting sensitive textual transactions, including those involving business and

471 Interestingly, papyrus and the hetaira Cytheris would appear to serve an analogous function at Volumnius’ convivium, given Keith’s (2011: 39-41) observation that Cytheris was similarly a cultural object imported from Greece whose circulation among and between elite Roman men serves to animate their homosocial intercourse and cement their friendships. Unsurprisingly, we find the mistress or hetaira of Roman elegy textualized and conflated with the poetry book; see Keith (1994 and 1999).

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alliances. In contrast, papyrus refracts the contents of the letter in a manner that puts into focus the epistolographer himself and his status as a member of the Roman elite. As such, charta was as much a surface upon which Roman writers etched their letters

(broadly conceived) as it was a setting for these letter writers to display society’s inscription upon them. Finally, I would note that our new understanding of the sociologies of these media should cause us to give extra scrutiny to any discursive representation of the materiality of these epistulae within the Letters. As we have seen,

Cicero often invoked the material aspects of these two media with particular persuasive goals in mind. Since the media of epistolography are not without a sociology, the discursive representations of these media cannot be free from such politics. Roman letters are social media, in their material form and their linguistic contents, and we must not lose sight of this fact.

Chapter Five: The Delivery and Reception of an Epistula

In his anthology of ancient epistles, Michael Trapp succinctly defines a letter as

“a written message from one person (or set of people) to another, requiring to be set down in a tangible medium, which itself is to be physically conveyed from sender(s) to recipient(s).” 472 Obviously, as a species of text, an epistula must be written down; thus, a letter needs to be on a certain medium and written by someone (whether the author of the letter or a scribe). In previous chapters, I have examined how such choices become part of the signifying structure of the Roman epistle. That is to say, republican epistolographers took what were essential physical realties of letter-writing and made them part of the hermeneutics of epistolography. Recipients of letters in this era were accustomed to reading not only the linguistic content of letters, but also the handwriting and the choice of medium as frames of reference to interpret these epistulae. Finally, I have continually emphasized the importance of situating the meaning of such elements of the material letter within the functioning of the larger Roman social economy by demonstrating that republican epistolography actually contributes towards reproducing the traditional social structures and institutions and, thus, reinforces the dominance of the social elite in Roman society.

In this chapter, I explore the last (and, as we shall see, the most truly defining) material aspect of the epistle – the fact that the letter must be “physically conveyed from sender(s) to recipient(s).” Every letter, ancient or modern, must be dispatched and

472 Trapp (2003: 1) goes on to define the linguistic elements that characterize a letter, as well; I have chosen to omit this discussion since it is not relevant to my topic. See also both Gibson and Morrison (2007), who use this definition as the basis for a larger discussion of the “phenomenology” of the letters and Jenkins (2006: 1), who sees the “circuitous route” by which a letter reaches its destination as what distinguishes the letter from “other types of writing.” For a more general discussion of the defining characteristics of a letter, see Violi (1985) and Caffi (1986).

175 176 delivered by some method or means, whether that entails the employment of a private person, an institution (e.g. Canada Post), or a computer server, as in the case of email. I contend that the method of delivery for a letter cannot be divorced from the process of exegesis for that epistle. Consider how we might regard the same letter delivered by the following four contrasting methods: 1) dispatched by courier; 2) conveyed by the regular postal service; 3) slipped under a door during the dead of night; and 4) electronically delivered from a work-related email account. In each of these cases, the method of delivery for the epistle engenders a different horizon of expectation regarding the letter;473 that is to say, the receiver would likely interpret the same letter differently as s/he attempts to account for the different ways by which it came to her or him. The first and second method say something about the level of urgency of the message, while the third method insinuates that the letter might contain something sinister or perhaps rather intimate; the last method implies a more impersonal and bureaucratic communiqué.

Ancient epistolography is no different; in fact, since there did not exist a standardized postal system in the Roman world and only an ad-hoc system for letter delivery (as I will discuss shortly), the circumstances of a letter’s delivery could have even more hermeneutic import. Each epistle could potentially have a unique narrative regarding its delivery and this narrative could influence the reception of this letter.474

This effect that the transit of the epistle between correspondents has upon an interpretation of an epistle has remained largely unexamined. Instead, scholars have

473 I borrow the phrase “horizon of expectation” from Jauss’ theory of literary reception. Jauss (1982: 22) comments: “A literary work, even when it appears to be new, does not present itself as something absolutely new in an informational vacuum, but predisposes its audience to a very specific kind of reception by announcements, overt and covert signals, familiar characteristics, or implicit allusions.” 474 See Jenkins (2006: 1) on how “the interception of a letter necessarily engenders its own narrative.” In many ways, in this chapter I expand on this idea of the hermeneutic importance of the transit of the epistle to include letters that arrive at their intended destinations.

177 devoted attention to the effect that letter delivery had on the writing of the letter. The fact that the letter was open to interception by a third party or perusal by its carrier made the writer more circumspect with its content, speak in vague allusions, or avoid certain topics all together.475 In addition, there have been a number of studies that have concerned themselves with the potential mechanics of delivery, but less with the interpretive consequences. 476 In what follows, however, I wish to bring to the forefront the importance of the circumstances of the dispatch and delivery of an epistula for its reception. I argue that the delivery of a letter was often not only important to the hermeneutics of epistolography, but also critical to consecrating the very discourse of epistolography. Moreover, I demonstrate that Cicero and his correspondents were sensitive to this feature of epistolography and that they often draw attention both to how an epistula was delivered and to who delivered particular epistulae in attempts to influence and manipulate the recipient’s interpretation of the epistle.477 Finally, since the conveyance of letters frequently operates within the confines of the social institution of amicitia, I conclude by discussing how the transport of letters often involved similar sorts of games concerning the symbolic economy, as we witnessed previously with the manipulation of other material elements of the epistula. While this act would initially appear to be performed gratis, the delivery of letters could actually be lucrative for the courier insofar as this initial investment in amicitia could often pay certain dividends.

475 See Nicholson (1994) and White (2010: 12-15). 476 See Nikitinski (2001) and again Nicholson (1994) for the mechanics of letter conveyance in Cicero’s Letters. For the delivery of letters found in the papyrological record, see Kovarik (2010), Morelli (2010) and Head (2009a). The letter-carrier has also been a popular topic in New Testament Studies; see Epp (1991), Mitchell (1992), Llewelyn (1994), Richards (2004: 177-184), and Head (2009b). 477 The comprehensive catalogue of all the letter-carriers mentioned in the Letters is a study still waiting to be done. I make no claims in this chapter about the exhaustiveness of my list of letter-carriers.

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I Delivery as a Paratext of the Letter

The physical movement of the letter from the writer to the addressee plays a particular and important hermeneutic role in the drama that is the discourse of epistolography; indeed, the transit of the epistle between correspondents meets the definition of a paratext, as this concept is outlined by the literary theorist Gérard Genette.

In his formulation, a paratext comprises the fringes of a text, elements which despite their marginal status still exert an important influence upon an interpretation of the main text; this fringe can include title pages, prefaces, illustrations, author biographies, critical blurbs, and all other things of this type which surround the main text, but are not part of it. Genette comments:

Indeed, this fringe, always the conveyor of a commentary that is authorial or more or less legitimated by the author, constitutes a zone between text and off-text, a zone not only of transition but also of transaction: a privileged place of a pragmatics and a strategy, of an influence on the public, and influence that – whether well or poorly understood and achieved – is at the service of a better reception for the text and a more pertinent reading of it.478

Of course, it could be argued that the other aspects of the physical epistula which I have discussed (the mode of production and the choice of medium) are also paratexts since they discharge a similar function insofar as they influence the reception of the letter.

These elements, however, would not qualify as paratexts in Genette’s definition because a paratext must both influence the reception of a text and function as “the means by which a text makes a book of itself and proposes itself as such to its readers, and more generally to the public.”479 That is, paratexts not only provide readers with a frame by which they can interpret a text, but also empower its inclusion within a particular discourse. For example, the frontispiece and the plot summary on the back cover bestow

478 Genette (1997: 2). 479 Genette and Maclean (1991: 261).

179 the category of “book” on what was once a manuscript, while a preface (particularly one by a more prestigious author) transforms a simple book into a literary or scholarly tome worthy of careful attention. In contrast, while they are significant to any reading of a

Roman letter and can create certain nuances of meaning within this discourse, the mode of production and the choice of medium are not paratexts since these elements do not characterize and define a text as belonging to epistolary discourse. The question, then, becomes: what are the paratexts of an ancient letter, or rather what makes and authorizes an epistula? The answer to this question is, in fact, simply another question: what elements can one remove from the Roman letter before it ceases to be an epistula?

The essential, defining elements of an epistula are its formalized opening and closing formulas and the very fact of its physical movement between correspondents. By their distinctive and prescribed nature, the inscriptiones and subscriptiones which bookend the epistula are certainly defining features of the Roman epistle.480 These formulaic beginnings and endings demonstrate a desire on the part of the writer for this text to be read within the discourse of epistolography.481 In addition, since different constellations of Roman nomenclatures could indicate various nuances in the relationship between the correspondents, the inscriptio helps to foster an interpretive lens through which the contents of the letter can be focused. Similarly, the delivery of a letter – both who delivered it and how it was delivered – was a paratext since a letter becomes a letter in part by virtue of its physical transit from writer to addressee, as Trapp observed.482

Some texts may, of course, have the linguistic markers of an epistula, but are not actually

480 See Cugusi (1983: 47-64) on the various forms of these formulas. 481 Cf. Violi (1985: 151-152 and passim) on how the inscription of the ‘you / I’ axis (narrator and narratee) linguistically defines the discourse of epistolography. 482 Cf. n. 467.

180 sent. As far back as Demetrius of Phalerum, such texts were recognized as a distinct genre which were not true letters although they possessed an epistolary gloss in the form of the inscriptio.483 To be a true letter in the Roman era, however, a text both had to contain certain linguistic markers and also move across the physical space that separated correspondents. (I leave open the ontological question of whether a letter that is sent but does not reach its destination is a letter.)

Thus, given that the delivery of a letter was a paratext for this discourse, how an epistula crossed the physical divide between writer and addressee would have held hermeneutic significance. Moreover, its significance in the Roman world would have been even greater since there was a plethora of options available for Cicero and his correspondents when they came to contemplate how to arrange for the delivery of their epistles: an epistolographer could ask an amicus to deliver a letter; the letter writer might task one of his freedmen (typically termed tabellarii) or slaves (usually called pueri) to convey the missive; the sender could also make use of one of the agents of the addressee, if he was setting out towards this person; or finally he could employ individuals who were already heading in the right direction (most often, this involved publicani).484

Nonetheless, what republican epistolographers could not use to dispatch their epistulae was a public postal service. Such an institution would not arise until Augustus’ principate485 and, in any event, the cursus publicus only conveyed particular types of

483 Dem. El. 4.228: αἱ δὲ ἄγαν µακραί, καὶ προσέτι κατὰ τὴν ἑρµηνείαν ὀγκωδέστεραι, οὐ µὰ τὴν ἀλήθειαν ἐπιστολαὶ γένοιντο ἄν, ἀλλὰ συγγράµµατα, τὸ χαίρειν ἔχοντα προσγεγραµµένον, καθάπερ τοῦ Πλάτωνος πολλαὶ καὶ ἡ Θουκυδίδου. 484 This list represents an expansion upon White’s (2010: 11) summary of options available for letter delivery. See also Nicholson (1994: 33), Nikitinski (2001: 230-233), and Head (2009a). 485 For the locus classicus on the advent of the public postal system in the Roman Empire, see Suet. Aug. 49. Ramsay (1920) contends that an inscription in southern Italy (CIL I.551) indicates there was some type of public post in the second century BC, but believes that it was discontinued and revived under Augustus.

181 public letters.486 The potential mechanisms for the delivery of a letter, then, were diverse in republican Rome, with no monolithic social or technological institutions existing to mediate epistolary communications, or even any small section of it. Since there was no neutral method of sending a letter, each possible configuration of resources to ensure the conveyance of a letter from point A to point B could be a source of information regarding the circumstances of the letter’s production, the mental state of the sender, and his feelings towards the recipient – all of which could influence the epistle’s interpretation.

A few letters can provide helpful examples of how the physical movement of the letter could and did influence the interpretation of a letter. In an epistula from 54 BC,

Cicero discusses the infrequency of Atticus’ recent correspondence and the barebones nature of many of these missives (de epistularum frequentia te nihil accuso, sed pleraeque tantum modo mihi nuntiabant ubi esses, vel etiam significabant recte esse, quod erant abs te); however, Cicero notes an exception – a weighty and detailed letter

(gravis et plena rerum) that M. Paccius, Atticus’ hospes, had delivered to Cicero (Att.

4.16.1 = SB 89). White astutely observes in an endnote that the letter-carriers available to Atticus likely exerted an influence upon the paltry nature of Atticus’ previous epistles, but Atticus did write a fuller, more unguarded letter to Cicero when Paccius, a hospes and therefore likely a more trustworthy person, was available for delivery. 487 Thus, Cicero excuses Atticus from any fault in not writing more frequently (de epistularum frequentia te nihil accuso) since he understands that Atticus will and does write longer, richer letters when he has the opportunity to dispatch them through a dependable and faithful courier.

The most recent scholarly treatment of the cursus publicus is Kolb (2000: 49-226). On the speed of the cursus publicus, see Ramsay (1925) and Eliot (1955). 486 When Pliny once used the cursus publicus for a private matter, he had to account for this action to the Emperor (Ep. 10.120). 487 White (2010: 182 n.17).

182

To put this another way, Cicero is informing Atticus that he understands that the circumstances relating to the letter-carrier have an effect upon the production of a letter.

In fact, Cicero has hinted at such an understanding on those occasions that he mentioned that the haste of a courier prevented him from writing more.488 To take one example, Cicero informs Atticus in a letter from June 47 BC that his epistula is rather short because he gave this letter to someone else’s hastening couriers (properantibus tabellariis alienis hanc epistulam dedi. eo brevior est et quod eram missurus nostros [Att.

11.17.1 = SB 228]). In this instance, Cicero is actually invoking two common tropes of epistolography: an anxiety over the confidentiality of the correspondence and a protest about the haste of the tabellarius, which has rushed the letter-writing process.489 Cicero invokes both of these tropes in order to explain what prevented him from writing a longer, more detailed message. Of course, it is also possible that Cicero is simply lying about the haste of the messenger since this falsehood could allow him to cut short this letter. In either case, however, these actions demonstrate Cicero’s awareness that the circumstances of a letter’s dispatch were an important interpretive lens for the discourse of epistolography.

In these examples, we can observe that the transmission of a letter between correspondents was literally and figuratively the point of departure for textual exegesis of this discourse. Indeed, these examples demonstrate not only Cicero’s recognition that the circumstances of a letter’s dispatch have hermeneutic significance, but also the importance of their discursive representation for generating a horizon of expectation for a letter. In some ways, this point is not especially novel. Scholars have long recognized

488 White (2010: 15). Head (2009a: 284) notes a similar phenomenon with papyrological letters. 489 Att. 11.17 = SB 228 and Fam. 15.17.1 = SB 214; cf. Roesch (2000: 105-106).

183 that the circumstances of the conveyance of a letter affect the production of that letter.490

Nonetheless, what is original is my redirection of attention to the fact that the consumption of a letter would be affected as a result of the means of delivery; that is, how a letter crosses the physical divide between correspondents is part of the greater hermeneutics of a letter. Given the importance of the letter’s dispatch and delivery to its overall hermeneutics, we should not be surprised to see Cicero and his correspondents taking care to manipulate this paratext for their own purposes in their epistolary transactions. How they would do so, to what effect, and with what success are the questions that I will now attempt to answer.

II Transmission, Reception, and Interference

Cicero appears well aware that not only the conditions relating to the dispatch of a letter, but also the circumstances of its arrival at its destination and the identity of a letter- carrier could have a significant influence on the reception of his epistles. In the midst of civil war in June 43 BC, Cicero sent a letter to D. Brutus, in which he asked for his support of L. Aelius Lamia, an ally of Cicero, in his campaign for the praetorship. Cicero begins this pedestrian piece of epistolary business with a rather interesting tactic:

Permagni interest, quo tibi haec tempore epistula reddita sit, utrum cum sollicitudinis aliquid haberes, an cum ab omni molestia vacuus esses: itaque ei praecepi, quem ad te misi, ut tempus observaret epistulae tibi reddendae. Nam quem ad modum coram qui ad nos intempestive adeunt molesti saepe sunt, sic epistulae offendunt non loco redditae. Si autem, ut spero, nihil te perturbat, nihil impedit, et ille cui mandavi satis scite et commode tempus ad te cepit adeundi, confido me, quod velim, facile a te impetraturum. (Fam. 11.16.1 = SB 434)

It matters very much when this letter is delivered to you – whether when you have some worry or when you are free from every irritation. And so I instructed the messenger, whom I dispatched to you, to give attention to the timing of the delivery of this letter to you. For just as those people are often bothersome in person who approach you at an ill-advised time, so too do letters irk, if delivered

490 In particular: Nicholson (1994) and White (2010: 12-15).

184

at the wrong moment. If however, as I hope, nothing troubles or impedes you and if the messenger tasked with it chose tactfully and appropriately enough a moment for approaching you, I am confident that I will easily obtain from you what I wish.

This passage provides testimony to the importance of the conditions of a letter’s delivery to its reception. These instructions to the tabellarius further establish Cicero’s awareness that the transmission of a letter can affect interpretation.491 To my mind, however, this passage does not necessarily reveal that Cicero could control the delivery of his letter in this manner;492 rather, it demonstrates Cicero’s own general anxiety about the reception of his missives. While Cicero does provide instructions to the unnamed letter-carrier regarding when to deliver this letter to Brutus, there would be no guarantee that the tabellarius will heed his directives. Once he transferred this letter to the unnamed tabellarius, Cicero had no control over this person’s actions, as he acknowledges (ut spero). Indeed, given the ineptitude of one of his primary tabellarii, Philotimus, one of

Terentia’s freedmen,493 Cicero should have known better than to believe that his mandata would always be carefully followed. Finally, there would have been other logistical problems that would hinder the execution of Cicero’s instructions. For example, how would the letter-carrier know Brutus’ state of mind and thus the best time for delivering the letter? Cicero also appears to presume that Brutus would read his mail immediately upon receiving it; however, many people (both modern and ancient), distracted by other concerns, delay opening and reading their mail until a later time when they are ab omni molestia vacui. As a connoisseur of epistolography, Cicero must have been aware of

491 See Jenkins (2006: 45-46); cf. Roesch (2000: 103): “Comme dans un ‘vrai’ dialogue, Cicéron nous dit aussi qui certains moments son mieux appropriés à l’échange que d’autres.” 492 Contra Jenkins (2006: 45-46). 493 Cf. Att. 4.2.1 = SB 74 and Att. 5.17.1 = SB 110.

185 these complications and hindrances to his instructions. Given all these factors, we should regard the opening passage in this letter as an elaborate piece of rhetoric rather than a statement of fact.

Since he has little actual control over the circumstances of the letter’s delivery,

Cicero must rely upon his discursive representation of its transmission in order to influence Brutus’ reception of this letter to some degree. Indeed, Cicero’s discussion of how and when he wishes this letter to be delivered to Brutus represents those strategies of politeness which Hall has well enumerated. As Hall notes, requests are complex and potentially dangerous social transactions that impinge upon a person’s autonomy.494

Cicero signals his awareness of this reality through his discussion of the letter’s delivery.

As Cicero admits, letters can be just as irksome as unexpected guests. (One imagines that

Cicero has in mind amici making requests.) Cicero is a more respectful epistolographer, however. He tasks the conveyer of the letter only to deliver the letter when Brutus is otherwise free from care; that is, Cicero attempts to make the letter as innocuous as possible for something that is making a very particular demand upon Brutus: his support for Lamia. Cicero’s representation of the method of delivery for the letter is a display of respect and consideration on Cicero’s part for Brutus. Thus, while Cicero may appear to be discussing his arrangements for the delivery of this letter, what he is actually discussing is his relationship with Brutus. At the same time, Cicero also rather cunningly outflanks Brutus who can now not use ‘overwork’ as an excuse for why he declined or overlooked Cicero’s request. From this perspective, we can appreciate that this passage

(which is entirely detachable from the rest of the letter) represents a clever and memorable initial gambit on Cicero’s part to secure Brutus’ goodwill and acquiescence

494 Hall (2007: 107-11).

186 before Cicero moves onto a much more conventional commendatio of Lamia’ petitio.495

In this fashion, Cicero is attempting a very old discursive trick to affect the reception of his letter – using a third element involved in an epistolary transaction (typically a person, but in this case the conveyance of a letter) in order to negotiate his relationship with the addressee.496

What this epistula to Brutus well demonstrates, however, is the real concern that an ancient (or modern) epistolographer might have regarding the reception of their letters.

Isocrates addresses this point in a revealing manner in his Letter to Dionysius:497

ἔτι δὲ πρὸς τούτοις ἐν µὲν ταῖς συνουσίαις, ἢν ἀγνοηθῇ τι τῶν λεγοµένων ἢ µὴ πιστευθῇ, παρὼν ὁ τὸν λόγον διεξιὼν ἀµφοτέροις τούτοις ἐπήµυνεν, ἐν δὲ τοῖς ἐπιστελλοµένοις καὶ γεγραµµένοις, ἤν τι συµβῇ τοιοῦτον, οὐκ ἔστιν ὁ διορθώσων· ἀπόντος γὰρ τοῦ γράψαντος ἔρηµα τοῦ βοηθήσοντός ἐστιν. (1.3)

Moreover, in a personal conversation, if someone does not understand what is being said, or does not believe it, the one making the argument may come to the rescue in either case. But for things written down and sent, if some difficulty arises, there is no one to provide a correction. With the writer absent, there is no helper.498

In his discussion of this passage, Jenkins rightly draws attention to Isocrates’ use of the participle διορθώσων. Through this word, Isocrates implies that the letter is a text that must be parsed and interpreted in the manner of a more literary text.499 That is, while the letter is usually a private communication between two people, the reading of a letter still involves the same process of textual exegesis which any other complex literary text

495 The following two sections detail Cicero’s longstanding relationship with Lamia (magna vetustas and magna consuetudo), Lamia’s beneficium and meritum towards Cicero in his struggle with Clodius, and ends with a rather typical statement of thanks (nihil est […] quod mihi gratius facere possis), as Hall (2007: 198) notes. 496 Cf. Wilcox (2002) and Gunderson (2007). 497 The authenticity of Isocrates’ epistolary works has been debated for the last century (cf. Stirewalt [1993: 27-42] for an overview), but the authenticity of this particular letter is generally considered secure; see Sullivan (2007: 12). In any event, it is the thought and not the author that is important here. 498 Translation is from Jenkins (2006: 8). 499 Jenkins (2006: 8-9).

187 entails.500 Nonetheless, the letter poses a number of distinct problems that distinguish it from its literary cousin. An epistolographer cannot employ a discerning audience to prescreen the letter in the same manner in which a literary text might be vetted.501 The letter writer must send the epistle without knowing how the addressee will react. In addition, as Demetrius of Phalerum observes, letters constitute a dialogue with a time delay (εἶναι γὰρ τὴν ἐπιστολὴν οἷον τὸ ἕτερον µέρος τοῦ διαλόγου [El. 223]).

Although an epistolary dialogue differs from an in-person dialogue in several important aspects, it does still involve a back and forth between the correspondents who are at a temporal and spatial remove from one another.502 This fact should only increase the anxiety of the epistolographer since the reception of his letter on the part of the recipient evokes a tangible expression – the reply.503

The letter-carrier, since he literally bridges the physical space between sender and receiver, offers a means to the epistolographer of controlling the reception of a letter, even if this control is only illusory. The letter to D. Brutus suggests this possibility, although it does not necessarily substantiate the success of this strategy, as I have argued.

In the rest of the corpus of the Letters, however, we do see evidence of epistolographers employing tabellarii as οἱ διορθοῦντες and βοηθοῦντες, to use Isocrates’ terminology.

The use of the letter-carriers as “corporeal extensions” of the letter is best evinced when

Cicero or his correspondents give an oral message to a letter courier in addition to the

500 Cicero’s intense parsing of a letter from Caesar provides a vivid example of this process (Att. 9.3.3 = SB 176); see White (2003: 82-83) for a discussion. 501 Gurd (2007) has written perceptively about how Cicero would have pre-publication versions of his philosophical and rhetorical tracts read out to a carefully chosen group in order to test these texts before such a ‘focus group’ and make changes, if necessary. Cicero did, however, occasionally have someone else vet a sensitive letter before he sent it (e.g., Att. 13.25.3 = SB 333). 502 On the letter as a dialogue and how it differs from an in-person encounter, see Kerbrat-Orecchioni (1998). 503 Cf. Violi (1985: 156): “the addressee has to activate the addresser’s structure of utterance by interpreting it and subsequently reconstructing the ‘presence’ of a Sit. Of the Utterance.”

188 written text,504 or when they empower the letter-carrier to speak for the sender and elaborate on the message.505 Nikitinski has outlined in detail the situations in which

Cicero or his correspondents would have recourse to these oral messages.506 Primarily these examples involve business concerns or sensitive political negotiations – that is, complicated matters that could be expedited by the presence of someone with a familiarity with the topic.507 In these cases, the epistula is not ἔρηµα τοῦ βοηθήσοντος.

In fact, we find in one instance that Cicero’s communication with his friend S. Sulpicius

Rufus remained incomplete because the courier Philotimus, the aforementioned freedman of Terentia, had failed to deliver the letter personally and instead sent someone in his stead. Cicero writes:

A.d. III. Kal. Maias cum essem in Cumano, accepi tuas litteras, quibus lectis cognovi non satis prudenter fecisse Philotimum, qui, cum abs te mandata haberet, ut scribis, de omnibus rebus, ipse ad me non venisset, litteras tuas misisset, quas intellexi breviores fuisse, quod eum perlaturum putasses. Fam. 4.2.1 = SB 151

On April 28th, when I was at my Cuman estate, I received your letter. When I had read it, I realized that Philotimus had not acted very wisely, since he – although he had instructions from you, as you wrote, on every point – had not personally come to me, but had forwarded your letter, which I understood to be rather brief because you had presumed that Philotimus was going to bring it.

White remarks that Sulpicius’ use of Philotimus in this situation is comparable to

“following up a letter with a telephone call.”508 Yet the epistula and the mandata carried

504 Cf. Daybell (2012: 141-147), who details how letter-carriers in the early modern period often similarly spoke for their cargo. 505 Even in the cursus publicus, the original courier typically conveyed the letter all the way to its destination so that he might provide additional details orally if needed (cf. Suet. Aug. 49). This practice is in contrast with those of the other state postal systems in the ancient world. On this point, Achard (1991: 129-130) observes that Romans usually preferred to use human contacts to exchange news and intelligence rather than other sign systems. 506 Nikitinski (2001: 239-244). 507 Nikitinski (2001: 243-44). See also Richards (2004: 208-209), who notes that the apostle Paul employs a similar strategy with the carriers of his epistles given that these carriers would often answer for Paul’s increasingly theologically complex letters. Finally, Head (2009b: 213) observes a similar role for the letter- carrier in the Torah, as well. 508 White (2010: 16).

189 by Philotimus cannot be so easily disconnected; they are, in fact, meant to be ‘read’ together. Sulpicius wrote a shorter letter than he normally would have, since he intended for Philotimus to supplement it orally. However, by forwarding the letter to Cicero rather than personally delivering it, Philotimus deprived Sulpicius’ letter of part of its text. In such a situation, we see the indispensable and critical role that the letter-carrier could play in some epistolary transactions. The courier not only often existed on the fringes of the text and aided the interpretation of the letter (that is, as a paratext), but could even, on occasion, move from paratext to be part of the main text. Indeed, letter-carriers likely played such roles in Cicero’s epistolary transactions more often than we realize without leaving any discursive trace in these litterae.

Letter-carriers also often helped to regulate the reception of their cargo in a less overt fashion since certain tabellarii could set in place broad interpretive paradigms by their mere presence. Smadja has drawn attention to how Cicero selectively employed couriers based upon the topic of a letter. She notes that Cicero dispatched the slave

Pollex for letters dealing with financial matters, while Hilarus was used for delivering more literary texts.509 I would add that Cicero appears to have employed another tabellarius, Eros, to carry letters of a financial nature.510 In a similar vein, Treggiari notes that Cicero employs Philotimus “for carrying important letters.”511 Although neither Smadja nor Treggiari contextualize delivery in this way, it would be reasonable to conclude that if certain individuals in Cicero’s retinue were associated with certain types of letters, these individual tabellarii could also, then, function paratextually for a letter, since their presence might have implied how the recipient should read the epistle which

509 Smadja (1976: 91-92). On Cicero’s familia in general, see Garland (1992). 510 Cf. Att. 15.20.4 = SB 397, 10.15.1 = SB 207, 13.30.1 = SB 303, and 15.17.1 = SB 394. 511 Treggiari (1969: 197).

190 they carried. Indeed, in light of the fact that Roman letters often covered many divergent topics, the choice of tabellarius may have been quite significant, since this choice could have been construed as placing particular emphasis upon one of the topics within the letter as the most important to the writer.

Yet I would caution once again against assuming that the author of a letter had total control over the paratextual function of the tabellarius; that is to say, while the letter-carrier did have an influence upon the reception of the letter, the epistolographer had no guarantee that the interpretive influence of the letter-carrier would be as he envisioned. Let us recall the letter that Cicero wrote to Atticus in which the former discussed how the latter’s handwriting was indicative of his recent ill health:

As soon as I had put into Piraeus on the 14th of October, I received your letter from my slave, Acastus. Since I had expected it for so long, I was surprised (when I saw the sealed letter) at its meagerness. Moreover, when I opened it, I was surprised at your messy writing, which is accustomed to be most regular and precise. To be brief, I learned from the fact that you had written in this manner that you had come to Rome on September 19th with a fever. Having been greatly alarmed (no more than I ought to be!), I questioned Acastus at once. He said that it seemed to both you and to himself (and so he had heard at home from your people) that it was nothing serious.

In this transaction, Acastus provides Cicero with reassurances on Atticus’ health not only from the equestrian’s mouth (tibi), but also adds his own judgment (sibi) and that of

Atticus’ familia. We glimpse here the nuanced role that a tabellarius can play in the hermeneutics of a letter. Atticus would appear cognizant of the fact that Cicero will press

191 the letter-carrier, Acastus, upon hearing of his illness for further information about his friend’s health; thus, Atticus made sure to reassure Acastus personally of his recovery.

Yet Acastus is not so simple a paratext. He does not simply repeat Atticus’ reassurances, but adds both his own judgment (sibi visum) and the intelligence that he gained from

Atticus’ household. Thus, this letter underscores again the fact that an epistolographer cannot expect to control or manipulate completely the tabellarius in order to affect the reception of his letter. Rather, the letter-carrier acts as an epistolary paratext, but one who operates with some personal agency.

In this situation, the role of Acastus in the transmission of information between

Cicero and Atticus aptly demonstrates one of the critiques of Genette’s conception of a paratext. Stanitzek perceptively notes that while a paratext would appear to reinforce the author-function of its text, a closer examination of paratexts often serves to destabilize the belief that the meaning of a given text (or simply the parameters for the construction of meaning by a reader) is the sole product of “the author.”512 For example, book covers, typeface, and dust jacket synopses are usually decisions at a level removed from the author in the case of novels; nonetheless, these paratexts are often the first elements of a book which a reader encounters, and thus they often help to set the interpretive horizon for the reader. Authorship of novels, then, is a more diffuse concept than is typically acknowledged. Acastus’ involvement in this letter demonstrates something very similar.

The letter-carrier is not only an element within the signifying system which is epistolarity, but also can be an independent agent in this transaction between correspondents. The letter-carrier can confirm or reinforce the message of letter; however, there is always the inherent possibility that the courier may contradict the

512 Stanitzek (2005: 30 and passim).

192 message of the letter.513 The ability of the letter-carrier to complicate the message of the letter is unavoidably entailed by the postal system (such as it was) in this era. The letter- carriers of modern, impersonal national postal agencies rarely have any personal connection with either correspondent. The delivery of the mail is an act conducted dispassionately by a state bureaucracy. Yet the ancient postal service operates within traditional social institutions such as clientela and amicitia. The act of delivering a letter cannot be an impersonal act since the courier will in most cases have a connection with one or both of the correspondents. Thus, the ancient ‘mailman’ (such as Acastus) has a much larger role to play in the hermeneutics of epistolography than his modern equivalent.

Cicero’s correspondence with Appius Claudius Pulcher provides another useful example of why the personal nature of the postal service often needs to be taken into account in epistolary transactions, while also suggesting the independent role that tabellarii could play. In chapter one, I discussed Cicero’s strategic deployment of the holograph in his correspondence with Pulcher. Cicero utilized the holograph in order to provoke a genuine reply from Pulcher in an attempt to arrange a meeting for the official transfer of governance in Cilicia. Likewise, Cicero’s depiction of two of Pulcher’s tabellarii represents another effort to negotiate his delicate relationship with Pulcher via the material infrastructure of their correspondence. In the initial letter from the third book of the Ad familiares, Cicero begins by praising one of Pulcher’s freedmen:

si ipsa res publica tibi narrare posset, quomodo sese haberet, non facilius ex ea cognoscere posses, quam ex liberto tuo Phania: ita est homo non modo prudens, verum etiam, quod iuvet, curiosus; quapropter ille tibi omnia explanabit, id enim mihi et ad brevitatem est aptius et ad reliquas res providentius. de mea autem

513 Head (2009b: 217) notes such contradictions of the letter’s content by the letter-carrier in ancient Jewish society.

193

benevolentia erga te, etsi potes ex eodem Phania cognoscere, tamen videntur, etiam aliquae meae partes. sic enim tibi persuade, carissimum te mihi esse… (Fam. 3.1.1 = SB 64).

If the commonwealth itself could relate its state, not more easily could you learn this from it than from your freedman Phania, since he is not only an astute man, but even (which is useful) a curious sort. Therefore, that man will explain everything to you, for this will allow me to be brief and more prudent in view of the remaining matters. Nonetheless, although you will be able to learn about my good feelings towards you from this same Phania, there seems to be some other part for me. So persuade yourself that you are most dear to me…

The letter continues with a digression on Cicero’s affection for Pulcher; however, what I find interesting is Cicero’s invocation of Phania to begin this letter. It seems highly probable that Phania carried this letter, since Cicero tells Pulcher that he can receive news of the state of commonwealth from him.514 Moreover, Cicero informs Pulcher that

Phania can not only provide information on politics, but also on Cicero’s disposition towards Pulcher – a topic on which Cicero is at pains to assure Pulcher in the course of the rest of the letter. Cicero would appear to expect Phania to substantiate his claims of affection (potes ex eodem Phania cognoscere). Indeed, just as we saw Cicero making use of Acastus as a source of intelligence, Cicero hints that he expects Pulcher to make use of

Phania in that same way. After all, according to Cicero, Phania is a man non modo prudens verum etiam, quod iuvet, curiosus. In addition to his analytic skills (prudens), there seems to be something wry in Cicero’s description of Phania as curiosus. Cicero may be envisioning that Phania has made certain inquiries on the depth of Cicero’s commitment to his reconciliation with Pulcher.

Cicero appears to be under the impression that his relationship with Phania was an important element in his continued good relations with Pulcher. In a letter to Caelius two

514 White (2010: 16) classes Phania under the category of couriers who supplemented the written text with an oral message.

194 years later, Cicero terms Phania a “comic witness” (κωµικὸς µαρτύς [Fam. 2.13.1 = SB

93]). While Cicero’s reference to Phania as a “comic witness” is likely influenced by the fact that Phania is a stock name in New Comedy,515 we should not overlook the fact that in the fabula that is Cicero and Pulcher’ relationship Phania plays a similar role to that of a µαρτύς on the comic stage. Indeed, a misunderstanding of the full nature of the role of the tabellarius has often left critics confused over why Cicero refers to Phania in this manner.516 It appears that Cicero expects Phania to give a report to Pulcher of his officia and verify the truth of his claims of affection and friendship for Pulcher. Such activity was part of Phania’s duties as a tabellarius for Pulcher. To put it another way, Phania’s function on the epistolary stage was to provide important extra-textual information and to help characterize the more important personae of this drama. Thus, Cicero takes care to cultivate and portray this tabellarius as a µαρτύς of his good feelings towards Pulcher.

Cicero understands that Phania will report back to Pulcher and that what he says will influence how Pulcher reads this letter, replies, and, more generally, how he regards his relationship with Cicero.

Cicero’s use of the tabellarii of Pulcher as ἐπιστολικοὶ µάρτυρες would appear to be a consistent strategy on his part. Consider how Cicero draws attention to another of

Pulcher’ tabellarii in this same epistle:

Cilix, libertus tuus, antea mihi minus fuit notus; sed, ut mihi reddidit a te litteras plenas et amoris et officii, mirifice ipse suo sermone subsecutus est humanitatem litterarum tuarum: iucunda mihi eius oratio fuit, cum de animo tuo, de sermonibus, quos de me haberes quotidie, mihi narraret; quid quaeris? biduo factus est mihi familiaris, ita tamen, ut Phaniam valde sim desideraturus, quem

515 E.g. the title character in Menander’s Κιθαριστής. 516 SB concludes ad loc. that Cicero “had nothing more in mind than that the Witness was a stock role in New Comedy and Phania a stock name.” Shuckburgh ad loc. comes somewhat closer to the truth: “Phania is a freedman of Appius Claudius, whom Cicero trusts to speak well of his feelings towards Appius.”

195

cum Romam remittes, quod, ut putabamus, celeriter eras facturus, omnibus ei de rebus, quas agi, quas curari a me voles, mandata des velim. (Fam. 3.1.2 = SB 64)

“Cilix, your freedman, was unknown to me previously, but when he delivered to me letters from you that were full of affection and kindness, how marvelously did he confirm the gentlemanly nature of your letters with his own talk. His speech was pleasing to me when he was speaking about your mind and about the mentions that you made of me daily. What do you seek? Within two days he became close to me; however, in this way: so that I am very much longing for Phania. When you send him back to Rome – which, as I think, you are going to do shortly – please give him instructions about all those things which you wish done and taken care of by me.”

In this case, Cicero transforms the letter-carrier Cilix into a paratext for Pulcher’s original epistula (rather than a paratext for his own letter). The contents of this letter correspond to the words of the courier, Cilex, who gives something of a polished speech (oratio) to

Cicero about Pulcher’ affection towards him. Cicero also treats Cilix as a substitute for and reflection upon Pulcher.517 As dependents upon their former domini, freedmen are often viewed as reflections upon their patroni.518 Thus, we see Cicero in this letter not only stating that Cilix reiterates Pulcher’s affection towards Cicero, but also specifying that Cilix possesses those very characteristics which have engendered such affection towards Pulcher on Cicero’s part (mirifice ipse suo sermone subsecutus est humanitatem litterarum tuarum). Cicero thus informs Pulcher that Cilix the tabellarius has not only conveyed the letter, but also delivered the message – Pulcher’s affection towards Cicero.

(Whether this was actually Pulcher’s message, however, is an open question in my mind.)

In general, Cicero’s discursive exploitation of these two tabellarii attends to his old game of triangulation insofar as Cicero’s association with these letter-carriers is really

517 With reference to this case and examples from the New Testament, Mitchell (1992: 660-661) notes how carriers provide an opportunity for the recipient of a letter to express their affection for the sender. 518 Mouritsen (2011: 36-65).

196 a discussion about his relationship with Pulcher.519 So when Cicero receives litterae and mandata from Pulcher via another tabellarius, a L. Lucillius, Cicero immediately begins to triangulate:

Tralles veni a. d. VI. Kal. Sextilis. Ibi mihi praesto fuit L. Lucilius cum litteris mandatisque tuis; quo quidem hominem neminem potuisti nec mihi amiciorem nec, ut arbitror, ad ea cognoscenda, quae scire volebam, aptiorem prudentioremve mittere; ego autem et tuas litteras legi libenter et audivi Lucilium diligenter. (Fam. 3.5.1 = SB 68)

“I came to Tralles on July 27th. There L. Lucilius met me with your letter and instructions. You could, in fact, send no one friendlier towards me nor, as I judge, more suited for informing me of these things which I wish to know, nor more astute. I happily read your letter and carefully listened to Lucilius.”

Here again Cicero is carefully negotiating his relationship with Pulcher through the screen of Lucilius, the tabellarius. Lucilius is on most friendly terms with Cicero. (How kind of Pulcher to send him!) Cicero makes the act of reading Pulcher’s letter and listening to Lucilius syntactically parallel, if not entirely equal in, to the pleasure which they afford Cicero (tuas litteras legi libenter et audivi Lucilium diligenter). Lucilius is a reflection of his former master and is due respect as an envoy from him;520 however, he is still not a substitute for the real thing. Even without the infrastructure of these tabellarii, this game of triangulation continues on unabated in Cicero and Pulcher’s relationship. In the same letter in which Phania and Cilex make their appearance, Cicero discussed a bust of Minerva which he wished to acquire from Pulcher. If he obtained this bust, Cicero promised to make sure that people knew of its origin: non solum Πολιάδα, sed etiam

Ἀππιάδα nominabo (Fam. 3.1.1). Moreover, I would note that Cicero is not alone in

519 Cf. Wilcox (2002) and Gunderson (2007). See also Mitchell (1992) and her discussion of how the apostle Paul employed letter-carriers to negotiate problematic relations with particular Christian communities. 520 This is a convention of diplomatic relations in the ancient world, and seems to extend into the epistolary sphere; see Mitchell (1992: 647).

197 attempting to triangulate to a better relationship. Pulcher himself dedicated a scholarly tract on augury to Cicero, his colleague in the college of augurs.521 Cicero and Pulcher thus habitually triangulated in order to maintain their relationship.

Nonetheless, this game of triangulation is always more complex when it comes to tabellarii (Phania, Cilex, and Lucilius) than with the inanimate bust of Minera or

Pulcher’s dedication of his opus. The latter two elements are mute objects upon which meaning can be inscribed; however, these slaves and freedmen have agency and can reject the meaning assigned to them. Indeed, we are left to wonder exactly what Phania eventually reported to Pulcher. When he attempted to arrange a meeting with Pulcher in

Cilicia in order to transfer governance, Cicero arranged for such a meeting through the go-between of Phania (Fam. 3.5.3 = SB 68); however, Pulcher did not honor this initial arrangement and Cicero then expressed confusion over precisely what Phania had meant to both of them: ego enim Brundisii quaesivi ex Phania, cuius mihi videbar et fidelitatem erga te perspexisse et nosse locum, quem apud te is teneret, quam in partem provinciae maxime putaret te velle ut in succedendo primum venirem (Fam. 3.6.1 = SB 69). Cicero had presumed that Phania was a close associate of Pulcher; yet Cicero later leaves open the possibility that he was mistaken. Cicero worries that Phania’s paratextual value was not what Cicero had taken it to be and perhaps Phania’s assurances to Pulcher about

Cicero’s feelings towards him meant little to the patrician. Cicero leaves unspoken what is an even more unsettling prospect for him: perhaps Phania’s reports to Pulcher contradicted Cicero’s own letters. Here we again return to the issue of the epistolographer’s anxiety over the reception of his letters and the complicated role of the

521 Fam. 3.9.3 = SB 72 and Fam. 3.11.4 = SB 74. On triangulation via literary dedications, see Stroup (2010 168-190).

198 letter-carrier in this process. A Roman letter writer like Cicero could attempt to transform the mechanism of delivery into an instrument to influence reception, as he did with Phania; nonetheless, although the delivery and the deliverer of a letter could have an effect upon its interpretation, the epistolographer had to be prepared to cede power to the letter-carrier as a byproduct of this process. Cicero faces just this problem here.

Despite appropriating the tabellarius into the hermeneutics of this letter by professing his abiding friendship with Phania (and, thus, by extension with Pulcher),

Cicero could not enforce this meaning – neither upon Pulcher as the reader (who could always interpret as he wished) nor upon Phania, who may have rejected this denotation and could have contested Cicero’s message. While the tabellarius could function as a paratext upon the epistula, the meanings of both epistula and the tabellarii were difficult to regulate and control, as Cicero discovered in this exchange of epistles with Pulcher.

Therefore, since his relationship with Phania had failed to produce the desired result (a meeting), Cicero shifted strategies of engagement with Pulcher and began to emphasize his own personal investment in their relationship – the handwritten letters which he had recently written to Pulcher (Fam. 3.6.2). 522 No longer did Cicero negotiate his relationship with Pulcher via his connection with one of his freedman since this method had created too many variables in the transmission of information between sender and receiver.

Nevertheless, despite the problematic nature of the tabellarius as paratext, Cicero did not cease to employ this strategy in his correspondence, and another example from

Cicero’s time as governor of Cilicia provides further illustration of how Cicero made attempts to appropriate the tabellarius and make him part of the message of the letter.

522 See chapter one for Cicero’s deployment of the holograph in his complicated relationship with Pulcher.

199

Soon after the submission of Pindenissum and his acclamation as imperator, Cicero wrote an account of this martial accomplishment in a letter to Atticus of December 19th,

51 BC. Towards the end of this letter, Cicero mentions that he plans to send publicae litterae to Rome soon and that he has a messenger in mind: a member of Atticus’ own familia.523 Cicero writes:

Nicanor in officio est et a me liberaliter tractatur. quem, ut puto, Romam cum litteris publicis mittam, ut et diligentius perferantur et idem ad me certa de te et a te referat. (Att. 5.20.9 = SB 113)

“Nicanor is in my service and is treated generously at my hands; I think I will send him to Rome with the official dispatch so that the letter can be conveyed rather more carefully and also so that he might bring back reliable news about you and from you.”

Nicanor would appear to be one of Atticus’ slaves or freedmen, whom he employed to convey letters in addition to other tasks.524 In this situation, Cicero is quite open about the paratextual role of the tabellarius. He expects Nicanor not only to bring back

Atticus’ reply, but also to supplement that information (certa de te et a te referat).525

Moreover, Cicero would appear to be paying Atticus a compliment. The delivery of these publicae litterae was an important task. These dispatches would eventually represent the first step in Cicero’s endeavor to receive a triumph for this military success as governor.526 For Cicero to assign the task of delivering an official dispatch to one of

Atticus’ men testifies to the bond between the senator and the equestrian. Thus, we again

523 Cicero also mentions to Caelius (Fam. 2.10.3 = SB 86) that he intends to send such a report, but does not specify who will deliver the litterae. 524 Cicero only makes one other reference to him in a letter from May 11th in this same year: Nicanor tuus operam mihi dat egregiam (Att. 5.3.3 = SB 96). 525 Mitchell (1992: 654). 526 Cicero also mentions such a report in a letter to Caelius (Fam. 2.10.3 = SB 86). The report itself does not survive, unfortunately. See Wistrand (1979: 3-58) for a discussion of Cicero’s attempts to gain a triumph.

200 find the delivery of letters functioning as a means for Cicero of indirectly expressing affection for a correspondent.

Yet Nicanor’s conveyance of this letter also appears intended to augment the authority of Cicero’s report to the senate, and thus further reveals the distributed nature of epistolary authorship. Earlier in the letter, Cicero had expressed disappointment that

Atticus himself would not be present in Rome at this time:

habes omnia. nunc publice litteras Romam mittere parabam. uberiores erunt quam si ex Amano misissem. at te Romae non fore! sed est totum (in eo) quid Kalendis Martiis futurum sit. vereor enim ne cum de provincia agetur, si Caesar resistet, nos retineamur. his tu si adesses, nihil timerem. (Fam. 5.20.7 = SB 113)

“You have all the facts. Now I am preparing to send an official dispatch to Rome. It will be richer in detail than if I had sent it from Amanus. To think you will not be at Rome! But everything depends on what will be on the Kalends of March. For I fear that I will be kept on if Caesar puts up a fight when the issue of his command comes up for debate. If you were present, I would have no fear.”

At first glance, Cicero appears to meander badly in this section of the letter. He moves from an account of his own military prowess (habes omnia) to a discussion of preparations for the official dispatch and finally to a rumination upon Atticus’ absence from Rome in relation to the question of Caesar’s command in Gaul and the possibility that he will be forced to remain governor of Cilicia for one more year; however, Cicero’s thoughts are not so fragmented as they might initially appear. As I noted in chapter three,

Atticus had influential friends throughout Roman elite society. Naturally, Atticus’ physical presence in Rome could have been quite useful to Cicero in obtaining both an advantageous decision in the meeting of the senate regarding the issue of Caesar’s provincia and also a favorable reception of his publicae litterae. Nonetheless, if Atticus could not be present in person, Cicero could still seek to conjure his presence to some degree by dispatching this report via Nicanor, Atticus’ tabellarius. By sending his report

201 through Nicanor, Cicero is not so subtly hinting to the senate that his self-flattering account of events at Pindenissum, which he had already recounted to Atticus in great detail,527 has received Atticus’ seal (or rather, that of his tabellarius) of approval. In this way, the mechanism of delivery insinuates a certain “corporate authority” for Cicero’s publicae litterae.528 To put it another way, Cicero seeks to borrow some of Atticus’ prestige and goodwill with other senators in order to assure his report a more favorable reception in the senate.

In many ways, Cicero is asking Atticus to discharge a similar function in Cicero’s correspondence with the senate as that which a preface written by an esteemed author does for a fledgling writer’s book. As Bourdieu notes, such prefaces (a type of paratext)529 endow the new entrant into this field with some of the prestige (i.e. symbolic capital) of the established author in order to consecrate the new cultural production and assure it a certain type of reception.530 Cicero is seeking something comparable – he hopes that Atticus’ authority will help to foster a positive reception for his letter in the senate. Nonetheless, while Cicero may wish to give some physical proof of Atticus’ endorsement of his publicae litterae, he does not appear to want to co-opt Nicanor without Atticus’ approval. Cicero hesitantly voices (ut puto) this plan to send Nicanor with the publicae litterae, providing Atticus with an opportunity to reject such a logistical and symbolic use of Nicanor. Atticus is unlikely to refuse, however, given that such an

527 Wistrand (1979: 7-9) notes that Cicero plays loose with the facts in this account, particularly in how he described his actions as spurring Cassius, his neighboring governor, to confront and scatter the Parthians (Att. 5.20.3). Frontinus (Strat. 2.5.35) and Dio Cassius (40.29) both note Cassius’ military success and give no mention of Cicero’s role in these events. 528 I borrow the concept of a “corporate authority” for a text from Gurd’s (2007: 55) analysis of how Cicero involved other members of the Roman elite in the revision of his rhetorical and philosophical works in order to harness their influence and social capital for the reception of the ensuing text. 529 Genette (1997: 237). 530 Bourdieu (1980: 263-264).

202 arrangement serves his purposes, too. The writer of the preface lends his name to a book not only to sanction the new author's status, but also to reaffirm his own cultural authority since he is seen as able to guarantee a certain reception for the new artistic work.531 In this case, the outcome would have been similar: Cicero would have received the benefit of Atticus’ perceived support for his publicae litterae through the presence of Nicanor, while Atticus would have enjoyed a public confirmation of his authority. Nicanor’s delivery of this official dispatch, then, would have benefited everyone involved.

Furthermore, I would note that there seems to be a subtle and implicit message of quid pro quo throughout this letter: Cicero takes care of Atticus’ interests and Atticus takes care of Cicero’s, with the delivery of letters being but one part of this larger exchange of officia under the guise of amicitia. For example, immediately before mentioning his desire to employ Nicanor as the tabellarius for his publicae litterae,

Cicero remarks that he awaits Atticus’s letters so that he may have an account of Atticus’ business and leisure activities (tuas etiam Epiroticas exspecto litteras, ut habeam rationem non modo negoti verum etiam oti tui [Att. 5.20.9]). In a postscript to the entire letter, Cicero mentions that he has recommended Atticus’ business interests and agents to

Thermus, governor of Bithynia, and the warm reception which these recommendations had received (tua tuosque Thermo et praesens Ephesi diligentissime commendaram et nunc per litteras ipsumque intellexi esse perstudiosum tui [Att. 5.20.10]). This recommendation follows Cicero’s earlier promise to Atticus that the latter’s negotiola at

Ephesus were of great importance to him as well as Cicero’s prior introduction of

Atticus’ associates to Thermus (Att. 5.13.2 = SB 106). It does not seem coincidental that

Cicero’s request to use Nicanor to deliver his publicae litterae comes just before this

531 Ibid.

203 reference to Cicero’s officia. Cicero expected Atticus to provide his own assistance in return for Cicero’s help with these negotiola, and one of these services that Cicero expected to receive from Atticus was aid in the conveyance of letters. Indeed, Cicero had made use of other members of Atticus’ familia to deliver letters in addition to Nicanor.

Philogenes, another of Atticus’ freedman, regularly delivered letters for Cicero while he was in Cilicia, and he was also one of those commendati to Thermus.532 Here we see again the productive, multifaceted nature of the relationship between Cicero and Atticus.

While Cicero advanced Atticus’ negotiola in the Eastern provinces, Atticus lent him other forms of support at Rome, both in politics and postal affairs.

Therefore, Cicero’s expression of desire to use Nicanor for his official dispatch to the senate does not represent a large deviation in practice, but a subtle melding of two previous forms of officia. Atticus had previously used his political influence on Cicero’s behalf and had provided a means for Cicero to keep abreast of developments in the urbs by both writing him letters and supplying him with tabellarii. The difference now is that

Cicero wishes to exploit the latter in the service of the former. To put it another way:

Cicero wished to use Atticus’ agents as he often had before, except now in a more public manner in order both to showcase his connection with Atticus and to influence the reception of his letter. Atticus cannot be in Rome to support Cicero as he normally would; nevertheless, Nicanor can, at least, remind the potential audience for this letter of the equestrian’s support. Thus, I would suggest that Cicero’s use of Nicanor to deliver his publicae litterae should be understood as a paratext of the official dispatch insofar as the identity of the tabellarius suggests that the senate should receive this letter with the

532 Cf. Att. 5.13.3 = SB 106 and Att. 5.20.8 = SB 113.

204 understanding that Cicero (and the version of events placed in his litterae) has the backing of Atticus.

Finally, while I have dwelt on how the dispatch of a particular individual tabellarius could influence the reception of a letter, we may also note that the use of unnamed slaves (referred to as pueri) to deliver letters could infuse an epistle with a particular meaning as well. Smadja notes that pueri typically delivered epistulae between

Cicero and his familia (i.e. primarily Terentia and Tiro) or between Cicero and his close friend Atticus. Smadja concludes that Cicero did not name these tabellarii because they would have been known to the addressees of these letters and thus would not have needed to be announced.533 I would push her conclusions further, however, to suggest that

Cicero’s use of such unnamed pueri served to indicate the level of familiarity with a correspondent534 and that this index of closeness had much to do with the difference between freedman and slaves in Roman ideology. Mouritsen notes that the social institution of manumission caused problems for Roman ideology insofar as it could potentially blur the line between free and slave which was so central to Roman society.535

One suture over this ideological rupture was the Roman tendency to view slaves as irresponsible children who had to grow up under the tutelage of the dominus before gaining their freedom. In this way, the distinction between free and slave and the necessity of the master was preserved. All slaves by nature were regarded as immature children without self-control, who could only become functioning adults (i.e. freed)

533 Smadja (1976: 92). Nicholson (1994: 55) believes that pueri traveled in pairs for reasons of safety. 534 I should note that there are examples of Cicero using pueri with less intimate correspondents, such as Pulcher (Fam. 3.7.1 = SB 71) and D. Brutus (Fam. 11.11.1 = SB 386); however, in the former case, the use of the pueri appears to be the result of a serendipitous meeting between Cicero and someone else’s pueri. Although it would appear that epistolographers in this era did not use pueri exclusively for close, familial correspondents, Smadja is correct that we find pueri employed primarily to family and close friends. 535 Mouritsen (2011: 10-35).

205 through the intervention of the dominus-cum-pater-cum-patronus figure.536 Mouritsen notes that this ideology explains why the former slave adopts his patron’s praenomen and nomen after manumission and also the common practice of referring to slaves as pueri.537

Slaves were typically regarded as children in many ways throughout their lives.

From this perspective, we may better appreciate the significance of Cicero’s named tabellarii and unnamed pueri. Many of Cicero’s tabellarii were his freedmen, or slaves who were soon to be manumitted.538 That is to say, they were adults, or on the verge of adulthood. Since they were ‘grown-ups,’ they were entitled to speak on his behalf and manage his affairs. Indeed, by discharging these tasks successfully, the tabellarii either justified their prior manumission or demonstrated that they had

“matured” enough to be considered for manumission. In contrast, by dispatching simple pueri to his more familiar correspondents, Cicero sent a bare letter without an advocate.

That is to say, Cicero trusted the correspondent to understand his missive, with the letters speaking for themselves. Thus, when he chose to use unnamed pueri to deliver letters to persons such as Atticus, Tiro, or Terentia, Cicero had made a decision about how to portray his relationship with these correspondents. Cicero thereby implied the level of informality and intimacy that existed between him and these people. Their correspondence needed no third party to interpret individual epistles or to negotiate their relationship (as it had with Pulcher, for example) since a close, personal relationship already existed between the correspondents. In this way, unnamed pueri can be seen as another type of paratext for the epistula.

536 Mouritsen (2011: 31). 537 Mouritsen (2011: 31 and 39-40). 538 Treggiari (1969: 196).

206

III Payable after Delivery

As we have often already seen, republican elite epistolography was a symbolic economy, and one that could often intersect with the financial economy. Letter carrying was no different. In fact, we have already witnessed in Cicero’s use of Nicanor how

Atticus might be drawn into the advancement of a friend’s interests by placing his tabellarii at his friend’s disposal. Nonetheless, in that situation, it was the correspondent,

Atticus, who was financially advantaging himself via letter carrying; however, in this final section, I wish to explore how the act of carrying a letter could have tangible financial entailments for the courier of the epistula.

One of the key elements of amicitia – trust – was regarded as inherent in the act of carrying a letter. Seneca used his correspondent’s attitude towards a tabellarius to begin a philosophical digression on friendship in one of his epistles:

epistulas ad me perferendas tradidisti, ut scribis, amico tuo; deinde admones me ne omnia cum eo ad te pertinentia communicem, quia non soleas ne ipse quidem id facere: ita eadem epistula illum et dixisti amicum et negasti. […] sed si aliquem amicum existimas cui non tantundem credis quantum tibi, vehementer erras et non satis nosti vim verae amicitiae. tu vero omnia cum amico delibera, sed de ipso prius: post amicitiam credendum est, ante amicitiam iudicandum. (Ep. 3.1)

You handed over letters to “a friend,” as you say, to be delivered to me; you then advise me not to share everything concerning you with this man because you are not even accustomed to do this yourself. So in the same letter, you both declared and denied that this man is a friend. […] But if you judge anyone to be a friend whom you do not trust as much as yourself, you make a great mistake and you are not well enough acquainted with the force of true friendship. Think over everything with a friend, but first about this person himself: he should be trusted after friendship, but judged before.

While Seneca exaggerates to make his point, his letter reveals the real linkages that exist between trust, friendship, and the conveyance of letters. Cicero often expresses great anxiety about the trustworthiness of the tabellarius and frequently cites the lack of a

207 reliable courier as a reason for the infrequency of his letters.539 As Cicero asks, qui epistulam paulo graviorem ferre possit, nisi eam pellectione relevarit (Att. 1.13.1 = SB

13)? The absence of a trustworthy courier is even a trope in papyrus letters.540 The fidelity of the tabellarius would naturally be of critical importance given the sensitive position that he occupied. Since the carrier potentially had privileged access to the letter’s contents (with or without the writer’s permission), the epistolographer showed great trust in the tabellarius when he handed over his epistula. Hence, Seneca is right to point out the absurdity of requesting that the letter’s recipient be less than forthcoming with the courier when the letter writer has already entrusted the carrier with the secrets of their correspondence. For Seneca, then, the act of carrying a letter provided an opening to offer a moral lesson regarding personal relationships: true amicitia could not exist without trust and fidelity (a sentiment that Cicero himself had endorsed in De amicitia)541 since letter conveyance signified that some sort of amicitia existed between the epistolographer and the letter-carrier, at least in the case of a freeborn person.542

Thus, it is not surprising that we find instances in the Letters in which the delivery of epistulae becomes a means of inaugurating a friendship; moreover, it is similarly predictable that on occasion this act of friendship (serving as a letter-carrier) would actually be a monetarily advantageous endeavor since (as I have consistently emphasized in this dissertation) the social institution of amicitia often entailed economic dividends for its participants. In particular, I would draw attention to three examples in the Letters

539 Roesch (2000: 105-106) and White (2010: 14). For examples, see Att. 1.13.1 = SB 13, Att. 4.17.1 = SB 91, and Fam. 1.7.1 = SB 18. 540 Richards (2004: 180), Head (2009a: 283-284), and Kovarik (2010: 81). 541 Cicero treats fides as one of the sine quibus non of amicitia; cf. Cic. Amic. 65: firmamentum autem stabilitatis constantiaeque eius, quam in amicitia quaerimus, fides est; nihil est enim stabile quod infidum est. 542 If the letter-carrier is a slave or a freedman of the letter writer, the act of entrusting the letter can indicate a different type of evolution in the relationship between the parties, as I discussed in the previous section.

208 of friendships initiated by letter conveyance, of which two instances also reveal the distinct economic advantages that could accrue to the letter-carrier as a result.

I begin with the case of Numerius Numestius whose friendship with Cicero was initiated by an epistle and confirmed via the act of carrying a letter. In the first reference to Numestius (in a letter from mid-July 59 BC), Cicero mentions to Atticus that he has accepted Numestius into his friendship.543 In a subsequent letter, Cicero both reaffirms his new friendship with Numestius and verifies that Numestius has lived up to Atticus’ commendatio.544 In the last mention of Numestius, we find Cicero employing him to deliver a letter to Atticus (Att. 2.24.1 = SB 44), while also tasking him to implore Atticus to return to Rome in order to aid Cicero in his fight against Clodius (qua re ut Numestio mandavi tecum ut ageret, item atque eo, si potest, acrius te rogo ut plane ad nos advoles

[Att. 2.24.5 = SB 44]). Interestingly, the letter that Numestius actually delivered was the first letter which Cicero did not physically write to Atticus (Att. 2.23 = SB 43).545 Given the abnormal means of production for this letter, Cicero seems to have chosen its tabellarius shrewdly; that is to say, Cicero may have dispatched a letter not written in his own hand, but he still managed to display his consideration and affection towards Atticus by dispatching a letter-carrier who was so close to Atticus. In addition, Cicero demonstrated to Atticus just how unstintingly he has admitted Numestius into his confidence through use of his newfound amicius as a tabellarius. Such a decision was a tactful move on Cicero’s part: he thereby displayed his responsiveness to Atticus’ needs

543 Att. 2.20.1 = SB 40: Numestium ex litteris tuis studiose scriptis libenter in amicitiam recepi. 544 Att. 2.22.7 = SB 42: Numerium Numestium libenter accepi in amicitiam et hominem gravem et prudentem et dignum tua commendatione cognovi. 545 Att. 2.23.1 = SB 43: numquam ante arbitror te epistulam meam legisse nisi mea manu scriptam. ex eo colligere poteris quanta occupatione distinear. nam cum vacui temporis nihil haberem, et cum recreandae voculae causa necesse esset mihi ambulare, haec dictavi ambulans.

209 by fully admitting one of his friends (likely a business associate) into his company solely on the basis of Atticus’ recommendation of him, before making his own request upon

Atticus to return to Rome immediately and aid him, as a true friend should.

This brief appearance of Numestius in Cicero’s correspondence with Atticus shows how carrying a letter could be implicated in the complex politics of amicitia. A letter of recommendation (which he possibly conveyed himself to Cicero)546 allowed

Numestius entrance into Cicero’s friendship, as was common practice in the Roman world; however, it was another letter that allowed Cicero to demonstrate to Atticus that he truly did regard Numestius as an amicus. By utilizing Numestius as a tabellarius for a letter to Atticus, Cicero was able to put into practice the theory of his friendship with

Numestius, while also fostering useful points of contact in his long-distance relationship with Atticus. Cicero provided proof to Atticus that he did trust Numestius – one of the fundamental aspects of amicitia – through his decision to entrust Numestius with a letter for Atticus. Nevertheless, while the example of Numestius shows that letter conveyance could function as proof of amicitia, there appears to have been no overt financial advantage for Numestius in this task (although one can imagine how Numestius might benefit monetarily from his association with Cicero).

In contrast, in the case of Cicero’s relationship with M. Laenius, there were clear financial dividends to letter carrying. Again, Laenius was a business associate of Atticus and it was due to Atticus that Laenius gained an introduction to Cicero.547 While Cicero

546 Carrying one’s own commendatio was common practice; see White (2010: 182 n. 10) and Head (2009a: 285-287). 547 Cf. Att. 6.3.4 = SB 117: qui quia non habuit a me turmas equitum quibus Cyprum vexaret, ut ante me fecerat, fortasse suscenset, aut quia praefectus non est, quod ego nemini tribui negotiatori, non C. Vennonio meo familiari, non tuo M. Laenio, et quod tibi Romae ostenderam me servaturum; in quo perseveravi.

210 was in Cilicia in 51 BC, Atticus made use of Laenius’ pueri to send a letter to Cicero, although it did not arrive promptly.548 Laenius himself eventually arrived in Cilicia with a letter and, it appears, a commendatio of himself from Atticus:

Laeni pueris te dedisse saepe ad me scripseras. eas Laodiceae denique, cum eo venissem, iii Idus Februar. Laenius mihi reddidit datas a. d. x Kal. Octobris. Laenio tuas commendationes et statim verbis et reliquo tempore re probabo. (Att. 5.21.4 = SB 114)

You had often written to me that you had given letters to Laenius’ boys. Finally on the 11th of February at Laodicea, when I had come there, Laenius delivered this letters, dated to the 21st of September. I will validate your recommendations to Laenius, both in words at once and in deed later on.

Atticus’ recommendation to Cicero likely carried extra weight due to Atticus’ use of

Laenius and his network to deliver a letter (as badly executed as that delivery was).

Commendationes were often highly formulaic texts; thus, small aspects could do much to differentiate the various commendati. 549 By entrusting Laenius with a letter, Atticus signaled to Cicero the level of confidence that he had in Laenius. To put it in a way that

Seneca would appreciate: Atticus revealed to Cicero through his use of Laenius as a tabellarius that he had truly made his judgment about Laenius and he fully trusted his friend.

The previously discussed case of another of Atticus’ couriers, M. Paccius, rehearses these very connections between letter carrying, amicitia, and commendationes.

I noted earlier how Cicero implied to Atticus that he understood that Atticus had sent an epistula gravis et plena rerum because he had at his disposal the trustworthy carrier, M.

Paccius. Nonetheless, when I discussed Paccius before, I neglected to mention that

Paccius also carried a letter of recommendation for himself from Atticus. On this letter,

548 This epistula given to Laenius’ pueri was mentioned in Att. 4.4.1 = SB 76; we hear of its arrival in Att. 5.21.4 = SB 114. 549 See Cotton (1985).

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Cicero commented to Atticus: “In both word and deed I have shown to Paccius what weight your recommendation has. So he is amongst my closest friends, although he had been unknown to me before” (Paccio et verbis et re ostendi quid tua commendatio ponderis haberet. itaque in intimis est meis, cum antea notus non fuisset. [Att. 4.16.1 =

SB 89]). Here we see a dynamic similar to the situation with Laenius. Atticus demonstrated to Cicero the trust that he placed in an individual by sending a detailed and important missive via this person. The fact that Paccius had delivered a letter to Cicero

(and that this letter was a detailed and important missive) confirmed to Cicero the level of intimacy and trust which Atticus had in Paccius. This circumstance only adds weight to

Atticus’ other letter, his commendatio of Paccius, and should serve to motivate Cicero further to make him one of his intimi.

Yet it is also the case of Laenius that provides an opportunity for us to trace how the carrier could redeem this trust and confidence, which is manifested in the act of carrying a letter for someone, for rather tangible material benefit. In one of his commendationes preserved in the thirteenth book of the Ad familiares, Cicero recommends Laenius to P. Silius Nerva, propraetor of Bithynia and Pontus. This letter is a classic example of the obfuscating rhetoric of this genre. Cicero spends much ink praising Laenius’ character and discussing his fondness for him before getting to the heart of the matter:

a teque vehementer etiam atque etiam peto, ut, quod habet in tua provincia negotii, expedias, quod tibi videbitur rectum esse, ipse dicas. Hominem facillimum liberalissimumque cognosces; itaque te rogo, ut eum solutum, liberum, confectis eius negotiis per te, quam primum ad me remittas. (13.63.2 = SB 137)

I earnestly seek from you again and again to expedite what business he has in your province and to tell him what will seem right to you. You will find a most relaxed and generous fellow; thus, I ask you to send him back to me as quickly as

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possible, free and clear from his business, which has been brought to a conclusion with your help.

This letter practices a familiar trick – cloaking the trafficking of personal favors with distinct economic advantages within ethical language. Cicero acts as if the favor which he asks Silius to perform for Laenius is primarily the result of his honorable character, and not the result of Atticus’ commendatio, which itself was part of a whole economy of favors which continually helped to reproduce and enrich the Roman elite. Yet what interests me in this commendatio is exactly what Cicero praises in Laenius’ character: his services and his honesty and restraint (id fit cum plurimis eius officiis, tum summa probitate et singulari modestia), as well his faithful and good counsel (consilio eius fideli ac bono libenter utebar [13.62.1]). These are the qualities that Laenius’ conveyance of

Atticus’ letter proved – that is, his fidelity and trustworthiness. Of course, such qualities are regularly cited in nearly all commendationes, but that is precisely the point.

Transporting a letter (which is presumably classed under these officia which he performed) permitted Laenius to demonstrate the ethical qualities which are the basic building blocks of Roman friendship. Such ethical judgments camouflage the financial implications of the commendatio and allow all participants to aver that it was just character and platonic affection that motivated these favors, and not concern for personal financial benefit. This act of carrying a letter allowed the courier to enter into such an

‘ethical’ relationship with the letter writer; moreover, this sort of relationship was exactly the type that could be monetized at a later point through such mechanisms as the commendatio. Thus, we can appreciate in this situation how the delivery of an epistle could constitute an investment of labor which would eventually have salutary effects on the financial portfolio of the letter-carrier.

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Cicero’s relationship with L. Cossinius reveals a similar story of how the delivery of letters often functioned as an entry point for an amicitia with a rich aristocrat, and how such a friendship could prove lucrative. Cossinius first made the acquaintance of Cicero in the early part of 60 BC, again through the intervention of Atticus. In something of an afterthought to a rather lengthy letter from March 15th of that year, Cicero mentioned to

Atticus that he had found Cossinius as he described; in addition, Cicero informs Atticus that he is employing Cossinius as the courier for his own letter (Cossinius hic, cui dedi litteras, valde mihi bonus homo et non levis et amans tui visus est et talis, qualem esse eum tuae mihi litterne nuntiarant [Att. 1.19.11 = SB 19]). By using Cossinius as a tabellarius, Cicero provides proof of his acceptance of Atticus’ endorsement of Cossinius cum verbis tum re since he entrusts this “very good and serious person” with delivery of a letter to Atticus. Subsequently, Cicero continued to show his trust in Cossinius by relying on him to convey copies of his commentarius on his consulship to Atticus.550 By carrying these letters and other texts on Cicero’s behalf, Cossinius continued to prove his worth to Cicero and build his relationship with Cicero, while accumulating a series of

“chits” in the symbolic economy of Roman social relations.

Although it took time, Cossinius seems to have cashed these “chits” eventually.

He disappears from our records for over a decade, but reappears in a letter from the mid-

40s BC in which Cicero recommends one of Cossinius’ freedmen, L. Cossinius

Anchialus, to S. Sulpicius Rufus, and asks him to receive Anchialus into his friendship and to aid him where possible (Fam. 13.23 = SB 289).551 As for Cossinius himself,

550 Att. 1.20.6 = SB 20 and Att. 2.1.1 = SB 21. 551 Fam. 13.23.2 = SB 289: hunc tibi ita commendo, ut, si meus libertus esset eodemque apud me loco esset, quo est apud suum patronum, maiore studio commendare non possem. quare pergratum mihi feceris, si eum in amicitiam tum receperis atque eum, quod sine molestia tua fiat, si qua in re opus ei fuerit, iuveris

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Cicero describes him as his amicus and tribulis. Given that freedmen were often fronts for their patron’s own economic interests, it seems likely that Cossinius will derive some financial benefit from Cicero’s commendatio of Anchialus. If I am correct in assuming that Cossinius later gained some financial benefit via Anchialus, then the favor of transporting letters for Cicero all those years ago was a shrewd investment on Cossinius’ part. While a commendatio instigated Cicero and Cossinius’ initial relationship, it was the conveyance of litterae which helped to build and cement this friendship. Through this service, Cossinius was able to prove his value and fidelity to Cicero and deepen his ties with him. Next Cicero helped to foster via commendatio another amicitia, which likely entailed financial benefits for Cossinius. In short, the example of Cossinius once again demonstrates that the conveyance of letters could help to develop and foster a relationship that could later be harvested by the letter-carrier for financial advantage.

As usual, I should add the caveat that I do not consider all relationships between

Roman males in this socioeconomic class to be mercenary at base; nevertheless, while there undeniably were bonds of affection uniting many men of elite status, there were also strong undertones of financial self-interest embedded in these relationships, which coexisted with other motivations. Moreover, what seems clear from these examples is that some of these amicitiae not only originated in epistulae in the form of commendationes, but also from the act of delivering these very epistulae. Thus, Seneca’s advice to Lucilius was accurate: the act of entrusting a letter to a courier testified to the existence of some type of amicitia between the epistolographer and the tabellarius.

Accordingly, when we see Cicero employing newly minted amici in this capacity, what we witness is Cicero offering tangible proof to his declaration of amicitia. That is to say,

215 the delivery of letters was rooted within the larger institution of amicitia. Nevertheless, we should not lose sight of the fact that amicitia could also be a moneymaking venture in this society. In two of the examples that I have discussed, we can appreciate how friendships could be conceived via letters (typically commendationes), then nurtured further through the delivery of letters, until these relationships had ripened enough to be reaped for profit at some later point. Finally, such a course for relationships among the higher echelons of Roman society was probably much more common than our evidence can reveal, since the various individuals whom I discussed in this section are very minor figures in the political drama which this epistolary corpus chronicles. Thus, the letters of these men (and the evidence concerning how their relationships with Cicero developed) were unlikely to be preserved and published.552

Conclusions

The space between correspondents is not an empty space, but one filled with anxieties, possibilities, and opportunities. Physically, this space is the domain of the typically ignored third party to all epistolary transactions – the carrier of the letter. More abstractly, this interstitial space is a province of hermeneutics (“a privileged place of a pragmatics and a strategy” to quote Genette) 553 since it constitutes not only the mechanism which connects the correspondents, but also influences how these parties will read and interpret each other’s letters. The letter-carrier can do much to affect and influence the reception of an epistle, not only at the direction of the epistolographer but also without his knowledge or authorization. In this way, the dispatch and delivery of a

552 See White (2010: 31-62) on how the editor(s) of this corpus has deliberately selected letters to construct a political narrative concerning the end of the Republic. 553 Genette (1997: 2).

216 letter is of critical importance to epistolography – defining and producing the discourse of epistolography, while also supplying one of the basic frameworks through which this discourse is interpreted.

In the Letters, we see how this paratext could manifest and how Cicero and his correspondents could exploit it for their own purposes. By sending certain tabellarii who were associated with particular topics, Cicero was able to define broadly the interpretive parameters for particular letters. On other occasions, the letter-carrier might provide a buffer and a screen through which both participants in the epistolary transaction could negotiate their relationship. Nonetheless, the letter-carrier is not a trope which the epistolographer can simply and unproblematically discursively exploit. The letter-carrier was not an abstraction, but a real person with agency. He can and does interact with both parties in the correspondence and, thus, can interfere with the transmission of the intended message. Thus, when the epistolographer employs the carrier of the letter as a means to influence the reception of his epistle, he must be prepared to cede some hermeneutic authority to this courier.

The act of transporting a letter could be indicative of the level of trust between the sender and the courier. Thus, when Cicero or his correspondents used named slaves or freedmen to deliver their epistulae, they provided an opportunity for the carrier to demonstrate his fidelity and trustworthiness – qualities which often would have justified or would soon justify the manumission of the tabellarius. For couriers who were not or had not been members of the epistolographer’s familia, this act of carrying a letter could serve as a chance to prove their reliability and character to the recipient of the letter. In addition, if the courier carried a commendatio of himself, the act of carrying a letter could

217 provide empirical proof of those abstract qualities, which the recommender cited in the commendatio. Likewise, by sending the tabellarius back with a letter of reply, the recipient of a letter of recommendation could demonstrate that he had truly accepted the newly recommended person into his friendship. Finally, the inauguration and nurturing of such amicitiae through the act of carrying a letter could prove profitable over time for the courier, given that the institution of amicitia allowed for the circulation of various forms of capital in the Roman upper class. In sum, the transit of the epistula between correspondents accomplished much more than simply allowing the letter to reach its destination.

PS.

By way of conclusion, I would like to digress briefly on one of Cicero’s lesser- known epistolary successors. I do so for two reasons: first, in order to review and reflect upon the themes of this thesis and, second, to explore how my examination of the materiality of Cicero’s correspondence has potentially wider applications beyond the orator and his narrow social cohort.

Flavius Cerialis lived a life far different from Cicero in almost all respects. He was an equestrian officer in the Roman army at the end of first century CE, serving as the praefectus of the Ninth Cohort of Batavians. He was stationed at Vindolanda, an outpost situated in what is now the North of England. In all likelihood, Cerialis also came from

Gallia Belgica with the other Batavians, although he seems to have been a noble in his tribe and a Roman citizen.554 Cerialis was also an epistolographer. Archaeologists excavating the Roman fort at Vindolanda have found a collection of documents and letters written on wafer thin wooden-tablets.555 These are not wax-tablets, but wooden- tablets, on which epistolographers and scribes wrote with ink and which they then folded, sealed, and dispatched to their destination.556 Cerialis’ correspondence comprises the largest collection of epistulae from this excavation (Tab. Vindol. 2.225-290). While only meaningless fragments remain of many of these epistles, enough epistulae survive sufficiently intact to allow us to gain some insight into Cerialis’ letter-writing practices and to compare them to Cicero’s practices.

554 Bowman (1994: 26-27) notes that the Batavian troops in the Roman army traditionally had one of their own nobles as their commander. In addition, the nomen Flavius implies his family’s enfranchisement under the Flavian dynasty. 555 On their discovery and in situ location, see Bowman and Thomas (1983: 19-23). The letters were not part of an archive, but were part of the refuse pit near the fabrica (Bowman and Thomas [1983: 20]). 556 See Bowman and Thomas (1983: 26-31) on their manufacture. Pliny the Elder discusses the manufacture of such tablets in his Natural History (13.30).

218 219

Notwithstanding the many differences between these two men and the fragmentary nature of the evidence, Cerialis’ material practices appear consistent with

Cicero’s epistolary habits. Moreover, the exchange of epistles between Cerialis and his correspondents seems to operate within a sociology of letter-writing comparable to the one which I have outlined for Cicero and his fellow epistolographers over the course of this dissertation. To start with, Cerialis’ correspondence reveals that even provincial military epistolographers in northern Britain around 100 CE maintained the habit of penning at least part of an epistula in their own hand. While we do not possess any holographs by Cerialis (these would obviously have been sent to his correspondent), we find letters to Cerialis that have a subscriptio written by the hand of the epistle’s author.

For example, in a fragment of a letter to Cerialis, the epistolographer provides a final wish to Cerialis (vale mi domine frater karissime) after asking him to greet his wife,

Sulpicia Lepidina, in his or her name (Lepidinam tuam a me saluta [Tab.Vindol. 2.247]).

In another letter, a Niger and a Brocchus give Cerialis their best wishes on some vaguely alluded to course of action (optamus frater it quot acturus es felicisssimum sit erit)557 before concluding the letter with a personal subscription (opamus frater bene valere te domine […] exspec… [Tab. Vindol. 2.248]).

Most interestingly, the Vindolanda tablets also illuminate Cerialis’ letter-writing practices in more bureaucratic transactions. We find copies of drafts of letters, identified as such due to both their many erasures and above-the-line additions and the omission of the sender’s name in the inscriptio.558 Since the handwriting in some of these epistulae is

“idiosyncratic,” the editors of this collection believe that these particular texts were

557 The writers are likely Aelius Brocchus, one of Cerialis’ most frequent correspondents, and Valerius Niger; see Bowman and Thomas (1994: 219). 558 Bowman and Thomas (1994: 42).

220 written by Cerialis himself (Tab. Vindol. 2.225-232).559 The assumption is that Cerialis would have given these drafts to a scribe who would copy them out and add the inscriptio before dispatching them. This division of labor is rather curious. Cerialis often dictated letters to a scribe;560 yet on this occasion he took the time and effort to compose these letters personally, but then allowed a scribe to erase the signs of this investment. After our discussion of the politics and economics of handwriting in Cicero’s Letters, however, we can theorise a possible explanation for Cerialis’ actions based on the contents of these texts. In the best surviving draft letter, Cerialis addresses an unidentified superior, possibly about a promotion or a transfer (Tab. Vindol. 2.225).561 In another letter, which is badly preserved, the word desertores appears (Tab. Vindol. 2.226), which the editors of this collection suggest means that Cerialis is “writing to another unit commander about returning some deserters who have been apprehended.”562 These epistulae, then, would not appear to represent the appropriate type of discourse for such a personalized investment of time and labor. By sending a holograph, Cerialis could inappropriately force this bureaucratic correspondence into that fetishized gift economy which we have found typical of personal correspondence in Cicero’s Letters. While Cerialis was obviously concerned about the precise linguistic contents of these letters given his personal composition of these drafts, he may have felt compelled to “depersonalize” them by transferring these litterae into the highly formalized and regular paleography of a

559 Bowman and Thomas (1994: 199-200). 560 In addition to the regular hand, there are certain phonetic dictation errors. For example, in Tab. Vindol. 2.234 the scribe wrote tempestates et hiem, but then corrected it to tempestates etiam. It was apparently common for officers at Vindolanda not to pronounce the aspirate in the initial position; see Adams (1995: 90). 561 Birley (1991: 95-99). See also Bowman (1994: 82) who is less sure of the exact purpose of this letter, but believes that Cerialis is attempting to gain access to the patronage of the provincial governor. 562 Bowman and Thomas (1994: 203).

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Roman scribe. 563 Cerialis’ epistulae, then, appear to suggest that he and his correspondents maintained some division in public and private discourses (and thus the commercial and symbolic economies) via the mode of production for an epistula, just as we saw in Cicero’s correspondence.564

Additionally, Cerialis would appear to treat the medium of wooden-tablets in much the same manner as he would charta. When composing letters, he and his correspondents wrote along the fibers of wood, rather than perpendicular to them, as republican epistolographers did with papyrus; however, reports were written against the fiber of the wood.565 The physical layout of the text also otherwise matches what we find in epistulae from the papyrological record.566 Moreover, these wood tablets were bound together in the fashion of a concertina so that they could be folded and unfolded in a manner that allowed for these wooden-tablets to be ‘rolled out’ with columns of text proceeding left to right just as with a papyrus scroll.567 While no wooden-tablets in a concertina form have been found at Vindolanda that contain a letter, such a format for a letter has been found in London and dated to the same era.568 Cerialis presumably used such concertina for his letters, as well. Given our earlier discussion on the importance of papyrus to the Roman cultural economy and to the self-conception of elite males, we should perhaps not find it surprising that since they lacked a reliable supply of charta on the northern frontier of the empire, Cerialis and his correspondents employed wooden-

563 On the paleography in these tablets and the similarity between scribal hands from Vindolanda and papyrological documents found in Egypt, see Bowman and Thomas (1983: 69-71). 564 Interestingly, we also have letters from Claudia Severa, the wife of Brocchus, addressed to Lepidina (Tab. Vindol. 2.291-293). These letters also have subscriptiones added by the author’s own hand. This correspondence between Lepidina and Severa tantalizingly suggests (but in no way proves) that a similar economy of letters existed for female Roman epistolographers. 565 Bowman and Thomas (1994: 40 and 46). 566 Bowman (1994: 86). 567 See Bowman (1975) and Bowman and Thomas (1983: 38-44) on the concertina format. 568 See Turner and Skutsch (1960); unfortunately, this letter is almost entirely unreadable.

222 tablets as if they were papyri.569 We saw earlier how the exchange of letters offered an opportunity for members of the republican elite to demonstrate their social status through the discursive practice of epistolography, with the medium of papyrus providing a critical prop in this social performance on account of its genealogy and cultural associations. In this case, it appears that Cerialis and his sub-elite social cohort may have attempted to replicate this sociology of charta by treating wooden-tablets as if they were that other more culturally prestigious medium.

Cerialis’ proper adherence to the conventions of Roman epistolography, and indeed to those of Roman textual culture in general, would likely have been critical for his hopes of advancement in Roman society. The Vindolanda tablets demonstrate that much of Cerialis’ job as praefectus would have involved textual transactions, both reviewing and writing reports and also corresponding with other commanders. Indeed, it should be kept in mind that such high-level literacy helped enable the Roman occupiers to maintain their political and cultural dominance of this territory.570 Moreover, Cerialis’ ability to navigate the unwritten rules of conduct for epistolography would have been crucial to his success when he wrote superiors requesting a promotion (as Tab. Vindol.

2.225 shows) or when he wrote or received commendationes, that traditional Roman social institution.571 Finally, Cerialis’ epistolary habits likely were critical for him in constructing his identity as a Roman army officer from the provinces at the far edge of the Roman world. Mattingly has shown that the distinctive Roman epigraphic habit is particularly pronounced in this area around Hadrian’s Wall. He argues this marked

569 See Bowman (1975: 41 and passim) for how this form imitates the essential structure of a papyrus scroll. 570 Bowman (1996) discusses this dynamic in detail. 571 Tab. Vindol. 2.250, a letter of recommendation addressed to Cerialis, shows that he participated in this social institution.

223 increase in inscriptions is due to the need for various individuals to assert their Romanitas in a liminal zone of political and cultural demarcation. 572 I would suggest that epistolography could have discharged a similar function for Cerialis. As we have seen throughout this dissertation, epistolography was a collection of discursive and material practices that could characterize and define one’s social standing; that is, epistolary habits revealed the letter writer’s proper socialization (or lack thereof) in a certain ethos. In

Cerialis’ case, epistolary practices and his general textual practices could have done much to demonstrate that he was Roman despite his geographic origins and current location.573

While this analysis of Cerialis’ correspondence is obviously preliminary and hampered by the fragmentary and haphazard preservation of these tablets, I believe that

Cerialis’ wooden-tablets – like Cicero’s epistulae on papyrus and wax-tablets – reiterate the importance of giving critical attention to the material epistula in a manner that involves more than simply providing a description of its physical features.574 The physical production and dispatch of an epistula (and how epistolographers discursively represent this materiality) had an effect upon the consumption of an epistula because letter-writing was an embedded social practice which operated in coordination with larger

Roman social institutions and within the greater economy of Roman social relations. In this dissertation, I have endeavored to offer such a deeper and more nuanced reading of

Cicero’s Letters through a focus on the discursive representation of the materiality of the

572 Mattingly (2008). 573 Adams (1995: 126) and Bowman (1994: 94-98) both note that the high quality of Cerialis’ Latin implies his enculturation in a higher class Roman milieu. 574 I am not, however, suggesting that the similarities between Cicero’s and Cerialis’ epistolary practices are in any way the result of an intertextual link. While it is theoretically possible that Cerialis read the Letters since this corpus is generally thought to have been published around 60 AD (see my introduction for a fuller discussion), there are no indications that he did so.

224 epistolary objects, while also using these new readings to provide new insights into the workings of the Roman social economy at this time. Indeed, by focusing on the rhetoric of materiality in Cicero’s Letters, we have learned much about the functioning of elite

Roman society so as to enable our reevaluation and refinement of the broader scholarly understanding of Cicero’s epistolary relations with many of his correspondents.

We saw how republican epistolographers helped to maintain the distinction between the commercial and symbolic economies through the use of the two modes of production for an epistle (scribal labor versus autograph, respectively). The value of such a division became evident as we tracked epistolographers in various letters attempting to convert symbolic capital accumulated in epistolary transactions into economic capital.

Cicero’s good friend, Atticus, provides perhaps the most compelling evidence of this sort of commodities trading. Given the lucrative potential in the symbolic economy of epistolography, participants in this sociological system represented adherence to the conventions of republican elite epistolography as ethical and social imperatives. Such ideological constructs helped to maintain the contemporary power structures since socialization in proper epistolary habits was often a prerequisite for access to the various economies of Roman society.

Moreover, an investigation into the uses of the two media of epistolary discourse, wax-tablets and papyrus, revealed the interconnected nature of the larger ecology of textuality in Rome. The perception of a medium in one domain of Roman society often affected other uses of this medium. We saw how the aura that wax-tablets possessed in the commercial and religious spheres motivated and shaped this medium’s employment in various epistolary transactions. In contrast, papyrus invited increased scrutiny of the

225 epistolographer’s literary skills and, thus, their membership in the Roman elite, given the cultural genealogy of this medium and the similarities between the topography of a papyrus letter and a literary liber. Finally, we discussed how the letter-carrier could often nuance, expand, and hinder the transmission of a message. The identity of the carrier and how the epistolographer represented his or the addressee’s relationship with this person could be used to engender a horizon of expectation for the reception of a letter.

Moreover, the courier always had the potential to complicate or contradict the transmission of the epistolographer’s message and often had his own motivations in this epistolary transaction.

In sum, this dissertation has demonstrated the value of attending to the material epistula in our discussions of elite epistolography in the late Republic. While it has been often overlooked and accordingly under-interrogated in scholarship on Cicero’s Letters, the physical epistula could and did exercise significant influence on both the reception of an epistle and the social standing of the epistolographer. To paraphrase the famous maxim of a well-known University of Toronto scholar: the medium may not be the message, but the medium was certainly a vital part of the message for Cicero and his correspondents.

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