Cicero, Classicism, and Popular Culture the HAWORTH PRESS Other Titles by Marshall W

Cicero, Classicism, and Popular Culture THE HAWORTH PRESS Other Titles by Marshall W. Fishwick

Great Awakenings: Popular Religion and Popular Culture

Popular Culture: Cavespace to Cyberspace

Popular Culture in a New Age

Probing Popular Culture: On and Off the Internet Cicero, Classicism, and Popular Culture

Marshall W. Fishwick, PhD, DPhil First published by The Haworth Press, Inc. 10 Alice Street Binghamton, N Y 13904-1580

This edition published 2011 by Routledge Routledge Routledge Taylor & Francis Group Taylor & Francis Group 711 Third Avenue 2 Park Square, Milton Park New York, NY 10017 Abingdon, Oxon OX14 4RN

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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Fishwick, Marshall William. Cicero, classicism, and popular culture / Marshall W. Fishwick. p. cm. Includes bibliographical references and index. ISBN-13: 978-0-7890-2591-3 (case-13 : alk. paper) ISBN-10: 0-7890-2591-4 (case-10 : alk. paper) ISBN-13: 978-0-7890-2592-0 (soft-13 : alk. paper) ISBN-10: 0-7890-2592-2 (soft-10 : alk. paper) 1. Cicero, Marcus Tullius—Influence. 2. Statesmen—Rome—Biography. 3. Orators— Rome—Biography. 4. Rome—Politics and government—265-30 B.C. 5. Rome—Intellectual life. 6. Civilization, Modern—Roman influences I. Title. DG260.C5F57 2007 937’.05092—dc22 [B] 2006016529 To Miss Sally Lovelace, scholar, teacher, lovely lady who taught generations of students Latin, with special attention to Cicero and Virgil. In thirty years at Roanoke’s Jefferson High School she not only taught, but inspired, encouraged, and opened our eyes to the classical world. She made Cicero our lifelong friend. Also to many students, past and present, who kept me young, ques- tioning, and anxious in and out of class. The gods were generous when they allowed me to teach and befriend them. Also to Bear, Edward, and Dylan, whose barks warmed my heart. Note on Dogs: Bear, Edward, and Dylan

Marshall loved dogs. When we married in 1995, I brought two dogs (as well as two daugh- ters!) to the marriage: Bear, an Akita-Labrador mix, and Edward, a golden retriever. Marshall adored Bear, a handsome, huge, lovable beast, but when Bear died in 1999 at the age of thirteen, Edward, whom we called the happy dog, became, along with Cicero, Marshall’s guide for how to live the good life and how to age gracefully. Edward served as Marshall’s Philosopher Dog from 1999 until his death at the ripe old age of fifteen in 2005. In September 2001 we adopted Dylan, a large Bear golden retriever puppy. Dylan and Edward were inseparable. Both Dylan and Marshall looked to Edward for guidance. Edward was the Daddy Dog for Dylan, the Philosopher Dog for Marshall. Both of them took Edward’s death in April 2005 very hard, but Dylan stepped in to become Marshall’s constant companion from April 2005 until Marshall’s death in May 2006. Dylan was by Mar- shall’s side at meals, while he worked, and as Marshall sat in his favorite wing chair looking out at the trees and the sunsets and contem- plating his life. The good life for Marshall and Dylan included endless rounds of Frisbee, and when Marshall became too frail for the sport, he watched Dylan play with me. When Mar- shall passed away in the early morning hours of May 22, 2006, Dylan was lying right beside his bed. Dylan was not mature enough to take Edward’s place as the Philosopher Dog, but he was Mar- shall’s closest friend during the last year of his life. Philosopher Dog, Edward, with Dylan Remembering Marshall by Searching for Cicero

In June 1991 Marshall gave me a most unusual gift as I left for a re- search trip to France and Italy: a 1970 red Guide Michelin for Italy. I wondered what use this outdated book could possibly have. I thanked him and put it on the bookshelf, bemused by the man who would become my husband four years later. I did not look at it again until Octo- ber 13, 2006, when it miraculously re-emerged while I was going through Marshall’s books and papers with his son, Jeff, and his grandson, Jamie. Our beloved Marshall had died May 22, 2006, and now we were retracing Marshall’s amazing life as we read through his writings both academic and personal. Finding the 1970 Guide Michelin was fortuitous, for I had just agreed to write a short memorial for this book. Taped to the book was a little note on which Marshall had written: “My very best trip to It- aly—je pense—was in 1970. I couldn’t find the English edition of Michelin when we went SEARCHING FOR CICERO—one of the great adventures of my life—so we took this one, the French.” He continued—and these words now ring out loud and clear—“Perhaps years hence—once you have seen my ashes picked up in the DustBuster— you will take the SAME adventure—using the very same book.” I have just embarked upon the Cicero adventure, but not the way Marshall did, by spending many summers in Italy, as well as a Fulbright year, but by taking as my guide this long-awaited Cicero book. Not only Cicero—but also Marshall— comes alive in these pages, for the book is as much about Marshall as it is about Cicero. Indeed, on a Fulbright in Italy in 1980, Marshall wrote many comments in his diary about searching for Cicero, but he realized that his search for Cicero was also a search for himself. He noted “Such a simple insight: I didn’t come to ‘discover Italy’—but instead MWF [his initials]!” (April 5 entry) and “SURPRISE! Only superficially is the ‘search’ for CIC—it’s for MWF!” (April 25 entry). Marshall concluded the Guide Michelin’s inscription to me: “THIS IS AN HEIRLOOM. TREASURE IT.” At the time I thought, Is he kidding? It turns out that his words were prophetic, but this book—not the Guide Michelin—is the heirloom. In so many ways Cicero, Classi- cism, and Popular Culture is a personal memoir in the form of a jour- ney with the author as our guide. Marshall tried to write his mem- oirs—at my urging—but never completed them. The genre didn’t suit him. But he did leave us this book, and I shall treasure it, as will his family, friends, and colleagues. I referred to Marshall’s diary to see what he had written about the summer of 1970. Curiously, there was nothing about Cicero, but what was clear was his love for both Rome and Italy. He wrote: “And yes, I DO love Rome . . . its spirit, laughter, sweat, and smells. . . .” He continued:

England bred me— America trained me—BUT Rome redeemed me!

So, gentle reader, please join Marshall’s family, friends, and colleagues on an adventure as we join Marshall in searching for Cicero. And as we read and search, we will remember Marshall. Ann La Berge Fishwick October 21, 2006 Blacksburg, Virginia Marshall: De Amicitia

I first met Marshall in the spring of 1970 when I was in graduate school. Having fallen in love with Marshall’s daughter, Susan (I was the TA in one of her classes), I seized every opportunity to be with her. One day Susan asked me if I would help her dad move some books. At the time I had no idea who Marshall was or, more signifi- cantly, how many books he had. But if Susan was going to be there and I was going to meet her dad, it didn’t matter. I had already made up my mind to marry Susan so meeting her dad and helping him was a double stroke of luck. I also quickly learned how much Marshall loved his children. If you were lucky enough to have been part of Marshall’s life you have an idea as to the lifting and hauling I did that Saturday afternoon. By sundown the structural supports in the storage space over the garage heaved, quivered, and creaked from the weight. With every box Marsh assured me, “Just a few more, Jimbo, and we’ll be done.” I would respond “the sun’s gettin’ low,” and he would break out in Old Man River complete with sound effects. It was an unusual and exciting day on many levels. Moving books was the least of it. I was with Susan. But conversing with Marshall (nonstop) on topics such as—whether North Carolina was “really” more Southern than Virginia, sourcing the etymology of the term “dirt farmer,” the failure of Democratic politics, religion versus the church versus theology, the revival in Southern history, the role of the “new novel” in America, old Southern schools, why TV is more important than the press, the influence of popular music on art, the perils of government funded academia, Robert E. Lee, why a PhD would be better than a law degree, why regional studies are critical for historians, the place of fast food in our culture, why men need dogs, the evil- ness of the Vietnam war, whether the civil rights movement would survive woman’s lib, and the nature of friendship—wore me out. At the end of the day I remember thinking to myself: What an interest- ingly complex guy this Fishwick is and what a lovely daughter he has. Books began my thirty-six year friendship with Marshall and this, his last, helps bring it to a close. My friendship with Marshall was as full and rich as any man could ever have asked for. I don’t recall whether we discussed Cicero that first Saturday afternoon, but I would be surprised if we did not. Over the years we spoke often of our friendship, its layered family intricacies, and how strangely difficult it was to have true friends. When discussing friendship Marshall would invoke Cicero’s De Amicitia with an easiness and familiarity that underscored both his scholarship and his needs. Cicero was always there, through the good times and the bad. A resource that always refreshed. As time gained on us and his death was near, our mutual greeting of, “Hey, old buddy, how are you?” grew in significance and poi- gnancy. In that greeting lay the answer to Cicero’s question: “What can be more delightful than to have someone to whom you can say everything with the same absolute confidence as to yourself?” There was and is nothing more delightful. Having Marshall as a father-in- law, mentor, teacher, councilor, and friend proved Cicero right. Though virtue in men’s lives may be first, Cicero concluded in De Amicitia that “next to it, and to it alone, the greatest of things is Friendship.” I will miss my friend for the man he was and the many gifts he gave me. As Marshall and Cicero could jointly proclaim, genuine friendships are eternal. And for that I am truly thankful. James E. Green, PhD, JD Managing Director Logic Capital Management, LLC Dear Marshall, As Cicero once said, “De pilo pendet omnia et omnia praeclara rara.”

Good luck! T.K. Our race shall perish from the earth before the glory of Cicero shall perish from their memories.

Velleius Paterculus

The glory of Cicero’s rhetoric still remains.

Plutarch

Cicero is the great popularizer, who brought philosophy within reach of the common man.

Erasmus

Cicero’s influence upon the history of European literature and ideas greatly exceeds that of any other prose writer in any language.

Michael Grant From Cicero in “The Dream of Scipio”:

Ominibus, qui patriam conservaverint, adiuverint, auxer- int, certum esse in caelo definitum locum, ubi beati aevo sempiterno fruantur; nihil est enim illi principi deo, qui omnem mundum regit, quod quidem in terris fiat, accep- tius quam concilia coetusque hominum iure sociati, quae civitates appellantur; harum rectores et conservatores hinc profecti huc revertuntur.

For all those who have guarded, cherished, and assisted their Fatherland, a particular place in Heaven is assigned, where the blessed enjoy everlasting life. For nothing on earth is more acceptable to that supreme Diety who reigns over the whole Universe, than those assemblages and com- binations of men united by Law which we call States; the rulers and pre-servers whereof coming forth from this place, return thither. CONTENTS

About the Author xvii Contributors xviii Foreword xix Kathy Merlock Jackson Acknowledgments xxiii

THE SEARCH BEGINS: A CICERONIAN MOSAIC

Prelude 3 Cicero, Model for the Ages 13 Moving Up the Ladder: The New Man from Arpinum 21 Cicero: Godfather of Popular Culture 29 Soul Mates: Cicero and Jefferson 39 Logos 43 Cicero and Community 49 Two Pivotal Essays 55 Reputation 61

THE SEARCH WIDENS: EXPLORING ITALY

Strolling Through Time 69 Countess Caesarii 81 Off to Arpinum 93 Florence 99 Dreaming 109 Bologna 117 Urbino 131 Proto 141 Good-Bye Roma 151

THE SEARCH CONTINUES: CICERO’S LEGACY

Hail, Caesar! 159 Rise and Fall of the Roman Republic 167 Does Cicero Still Speak? 175 America: The New Rome 181 Cicero’s Fate 185 James Combs Cicero Still Speaks 197 Franco de Battaglia Some Final Thoughts 203 Notes 209 Bibliographic Essay: An Electronic Search for Cicero 215 Index 217 ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Marshall W. Fishwick, PhD, DPhil, professor emeritus in the Col- lege of Liberal Arts and Human Sciences at Virginia Tech University, died on May 22, 2006, at the age of eighty-two. He was a pioneer in the field of Popular Culture and co-founded the Popular Culture As- sociation in the 1960s. He founded the journal International Popular Culture and was advisory editor to the Journal of Popular Culture and the Journal of American Culture. He was presented the Life Achievement Award in Popular Culture in 1997. Dr. Fishwick was a native of Roanoke, Virginia, where he gradu- ated from Jefferson High School in 1940. He served as an officer in the U. S. Navy during World War II and his wartime poetry collection The Face of Jang was published in 1945. He received his undergradu- ate degree from the University of Virginia and also held degrees from the University of Wisconsin and Yale, where he received his doctor- ate in American Studies. He held honorary degrees from Krakov Uni- versity, Bombay University, and Dhaka University. He was the recipient of eight Fulbright Awards and numerous grants that enabled him to introduce the popular culture discipline abroad in Italy, Germany, Denmark, Poland, Russia, Bangladesh, India, and Korea. He began his teaching career at Washington and Lee, where he taught from 1949 until 1962. He also taught at Lincoln University and Temple University before accepting a position at Virginia Tech in 1976 where he taught until his retirement in 2003. Dr. Fishwick wrote more than twenty books during his lifetime. Early in his career he published widely on Virginia history. His books included Virginians on Olympus (1951), General Lee’s Photogra- pher: The Life and Work of Michael Miley (1954), Virginia: A New Look at the Old Dominion (1959), Gentlemen of Virginia (1961), and Lee After the War (1963). In addition to his five books with Haworth, he was the author of American Heroes: Myth and Reality (1954); Common Culture and the Great Tradition (1982); Seven Pillars of Popular Culture (1985); Go and Catch a Falling Star (2000); and An American Mosaic: Rethinking American Culture History (1996). Cicero, Classicism, and Popular Culture © 2007 by The Haworth Press, Inc. All rights reserved. doi:10.1300/5333_a xvii CONTRIBUTORS

James Combs is Professor Emeritus from Valparaiso University. He has written extensively about popular culture and politics, including such works as Polpop, Mediated Political Realities, and American Political Movies. He is currently working on a book about movies and time, while living quietly in the Virginia woods. Franco de Battaglia, journalist and writer, has studied Latin and Greek at the Liceo Prati in Trento, Italy, and economics and sociology in Milan. As a Fulbright Scholar he studied at Washington and Lee University where he met Marshall Fishwick, who was his professor of Sociology and American Studies. He has traveled widely in the United States and has lectured at Temple University and Lincoln University. A journalist since 1970, de Battaglia has been editor in chief of the daily newspapers Alto Adige, Trentino, and Corriere delle Alpi. He is currently editorialist and editor at large for the three newspapers and “Agl” press agency. His books include Il Gruppo di Brenta (1982); Lagorai (1988); Enciclopedia delle Dolomiti (2000); and La citta di Salomon (2004). He lives and works in Trento.

Audiences have always been fascinated by the ancient world, at some times more intensely than at others. In the 1950s and 1960s, when Marshall Fishwick was beginning his career as an American Studies professor at Washington and Lee University in Virginia, the movie industry was fighting the onslaught of television with the re- lease of a slew of big-budget, high-profile historical films showcasing Cinemascope, stereophonic sound, and other amazing new techno- logical innovations. These classical epics included Quo Vadis (1951), The Robe (1953), Ben Hur (1959), Cleopatra (1963), Jason and the Argonauts (1963), The Greatest Story Ever Told (1965), and The Bi- ble (1966). Half a century later, in an Internet age characterized by even more astounding special effects, Hollywood touts its biggest stars in extravanganzas of ancient times: Russell Crowe in Gladiator (2000), Brad Pitt in Troy (2004), and Colin Farrell in Alexander (2004). Concurrently, the study of Latin in American schools is ris- ing, and more students than ever are exploring the world of the ancient Greeks and Romans. It seems entirely fitting, then, that Mar- shall Fishwick, one of the founders of popular culture study in Amer- ica, takes this opportunity to reassess the classical hero of greatest importance to him and to popular culture—Marcus Tullius Cicero. I first met Marshall, a fellow Virginian, at a joint conference of the Popular Culture Association and American Culture Association Con- ference several years ago when he was speaking at a luncheon in his honor as the recipient of the American Culture Association’s Govern- ing Board Award for Outstanding Contributions to American Culture Studies. I remember one of his former students, now a successful university professor, paying tribute to Marshall by characterizing him as a mesmerizing teacher whose every word was like a precious jewel falling from his lips. Many students were influenced by Marshall, who along with Ray Browne, Russel B. Nye, John Cawelti, and Carl Bode, convinced academe that popular culture warranted serious

Cicero, Classicism, and Popular Culture © 2007 by The Haworth Press, Inc. All rights reserved. doi:10.1300/5333_c xix xx CICERO, CLASSICISM, AND POPULAR CULTURE study. These include one of America’s premiere contemporary writers, Tom Wolfe, who praises Marshall’s magnetic teaching and re- gards him an intellectual inspiration. I came to know Marshall well when I began serving as president of the American Culture Association and editor of the Journal of Ameri- can Culture. I learned quickly that no one understands the working of American popular culture more acutely than Marshall Fishwick. Whether planning an event to investigate Canadian media theorist Marshall McLuhan’s influence on the way we perceive the Internet culture or philosophical underpinnings in America today, Marshall demonstrates his depth, breadth, and wit. His ability to turn a phrase dovetails with his sideways glance at the world. His observations both amuse and make us think. So why has Marshall taken up Cicero, and why now? There’s no question: It is time for a modern reappraisal of the university literary figure that classics scholars know best through his voluminous speeches, translations, and letters, but who has fallen out of favor, playing second fiddle to Caesar, Mark Antony, and others on contemporary Latin reading lists. Philosopher, politician, writer, and rhetori- cian, Cicero has much to teach us, especially now. The study of popular culture addresses the world around us, en- compassing both high and low culture and embracing the mar- ginalized voices that cannot be heard elsewhere. It enables us to understand how we spend our time and what we value, what we eat, wear, watch, read, and say; how we interact. In the Global Village of today, elements of popular culture surround us, becoming pervasive and influential in our daily lives, twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. In order for us to come to grips with our own popular culture, we must study its precedents. What was popular in past eras? How did people think and express themselves? This is where Cicero can help us. Ancient Rome’s finest orator, Cicero was a superstar, almost single-handedly creating a Roman literary culture. He translated Plato’s Republic into Latin, bringing the essence of Greek culture and philosophy to Rome. He helped to make Latin a universal language and invented words critical to popular culture, affecting 2,000 years of Latin education. In essence, he gave us a humanistic blueprint for how to study the world around us and its influences, how to communicate eloquently with one another, and how to reflect in a volatile political arena, influencing such leaders as Foreword xxi George Washington, John Adams, Thomas Jefferson, and Benjamin Franklin. Cicero’s Rome bears similarity to George W. Bush’s America. To- day English has the distinction of being the new universal language, and American popular culture girdles the globe. The crisis that we face currently emulates what Rome endured centuries ago; what hap- pens when there is one major superpower, when we direct all force to fight the enemy, and when once a terrorist enemy is defeated, we begin to fight among ourselves? The classical world holds the key to the modern world. Cicero, a major transitional figure, understood the dynamics of gaining and losing power and expressed his ideas with energy and elegance. In this book, Marshall Fishwick restores his classical hero to a larger place, elevating him to distinction as “the godfather of popular culture” and making a case for what could be Hollywood’s next great blockbuster film: The Life and Times of Marcus Tullius Cicero. His new book is a treasure, and many will share in its benefits, both now and in years to come. Kathy Merlock Jackson Professor, Virginia Wesleyan College Editor, Journal of American Culture AcknowledgmentsAcknowledgments

Over the years, here and abroad, family, friends, colleagues, students, and critics have helped me in ways that would fill another book. My debt to them is immense. Three gentlemen and scholars will always get my thanks. Ralph Gabriel taught me at Yale, opened many new windows, and directed my doctoral thesis. James G. Leyburn let me come with him from Yale to Washington and Lee University, where we began programs in American studies and sociology. Dr. Leyburn also persuaded Arnold Toynbee to join us as a visiting professor. Toynbee’s erudition and depth stunned and delighted the faculty who met with him for tea. I recall that he too searched for Cicero. “Many times, I struggled with Greek and Latin in my Cicero search,” Toynbee recalled. He told of an award ceremony at Oxford University, where the faculty, splendidly robed, conducted the affair in Latin. “When it was my turn to respond,” Toynbee said, “I was so nervous that when I responded, it was in Greek.” There will always be an Oxford University—and a Cicero. We follow as best we can. I have not tried to rewrite Cicero’s factual story, but to capture the essence of his time, and to ask how it affects our own. Like Cicero himself, I stand on the shoulders of giants. I am grateful to scores of people who have helped me in many different ways to write this book. It has been years in the making, revising, and updating. At Virginia Tech, Debbie Law and Karen Snider have made the manuscript possible. At The Haworth Press, Bill Co- hen, Patricia Brown, Rebecca Browne, Peg Marr, Amy Rentner, Sandi Raub, and many others who make The Haworth Press the fine place it is have taken the manuscript and turned it into the handsome book you hold in your hands. Sandi Raub and George Marr deserve special thanks for their contributions. Sandi shared her lovely photo- graphs of Italy and George contributed sketches and maps scattered

Cicero, Classicism, and Popular Culture © 2007 by The Haworth Press, Inc. All rights reserved. doi:10.1300/5333_d xxiii xxiv CICERO, CLASSICISM, AND POPULAR CULTURE throughout the book. Scholars and friends, here and abroad, have given invaluable information. Expertise in both Latin and Italian made my longtime friend Franco de Battaglia indispensable. All the while my wife, Ann La Berge, has encouraged me in my writing and put up with my frustration regarding ever-changing new technologies. Dylan never fails to bark and wag his tail when I get to the driveway. I thank you, one and all. A Brief Cicero Chronology (106-43 BC)

106 Born in ancestral home in rural Arpinum 87-86 Studies in Rome; brilliant student 80 First major speech, Pro Roscio Amerino 79-77 Studies in Athens and Rhodes; masters Greek 75 Enters politics; quaestor in Western Sicily 69 Wins fame as lawyer; “Master of the Courts” 67 Elected praetor; a popular Roman figure 63 As consul, suppresses Catiline’s conspiracy 59 First Triumvirate formed—Caesar, Pompey, and Crassus 58 Cicero indicted by Clodius; temporary banishment 57-51 Writes two major works, De Oratore and De Republica 53 Finds strong support, elected Roman augur 50 Successful governor of Sicily 49 Civil War; Cicero supports Pompey against Caesar 48 Pompey defeated at Pharsalus; Caesar forgives Cicero 47-44 Devotes full time to writing; the Tusculum years begin 45 Death of daughter Tullia; depression 44 Assassination of Caesar, dominance of Mark Antony Cicero denounces Antony in his Philippics 43 Cicero murdered by Antony’s men. His severed head and hand hung in Forum. Bloody political struggles continue. THE SEARCH BEGINS: A CICERONIAN MOSAIC Map of Italy showing Cicero’s villas. (Adapted from Anthony Everitt, Cicero: The Life and Times of Rome’s Greatest Politician. New York: Random House, 2001) PreludePrelude

History was still blind when a green grove flourished along the Cephisus River outside Athens. By the time Plato was born, twenty- five centuries ago, that lovely spot was sacred to the hero Academus. Quiet and cool, it was ideal for the school he founded. Words that echoed in those woods became the basis of philosophy and Western civilization. To honor Academus, Plato called his school the Acad- emy. Academics are its heirs. The Academy flourished for centuries. About 100 BC Philo served as director. Stormy days followed. The sound of words gave way to the sounds of battle. Fleeing from the first Mithridatic War, Philo reached Rome in 88 BC and began another school. One of his first students was an articulate teenager, Marcus Tullius Cicero. We are his heirs too; he was the great popularizer of Greek thought and philosophy. Over the centuries he has touched millions of lives. One of them was mine. Cicero, my long lost friend. Whenever I say your name I instinc- tively use the hard “C,” calling you “Kick-ero.” That is because she always did; she introduced us in the first place. Her name was Sally Lovelace: a spinster Latin teacher in Virginia for years (some said forever). She studied the classics at a nearby women’s college and spent the rest of her life explaining and extol- ling Caesar, Virgil, and Cicero. Those ancients should be listed in just that order for that is how they had marched through Latin II, III, and IV ever since Sally began teaching. They were to her as definite as the seasons, as constant as the northern star. Most students had other seasons in mind (football, basketball, baseball) and never took Latin. So much the worse for them. Miss Lovelace spoke to the fit audience, though few with as much piety and devotion as any ancient vestal virgin or modern nun. She was the toughest, yet the most tender teacher I ever had. Oh how she loved to read Cicero! His words rolled from her tongue like the drums of des-

Cicero, Classicism, and Popular Culture © 2007 by The Haworth Press, Inc. All rights reserved. doi:10.1300/5333_01 3 4 CICERO, CLASSICISM, AND POPULAR CULTURE tiny, honey sweet, then foreboding, then thunder claps as she reached the unforgettable climax—Catiline must be brought to justice! The Republic must survive! We were born free, and so we must remain! I am sure she finished her life with a Ciceronian flourish which won for her special preference when Charon ferried her over the River Styx. Miss Sally Lovelace is dead now. No one has replaced her. The school now has a computer learning center to handle languages. O tempora, o mores. How does the computer sound when it reads a Ciceronian oration? Do the digits flash, as did Miss Lovelace’s eyes? And do they get a bit misty when they tell of Cicero’s death? There was more than her reading to remember. When she finished it was our turn to read Latin and (worse yet) to translate. That re- quired careful preparation. Who could find time in one’s senior year, when there were clubs, parties, and games in an unbroken se- quence—“the last fling” before beginning the next fling, known as “higher education”? What about those who were working hard to “get somewhere,” which meant editing the school paper, carrying water buckets to thirsty football players (the safe way to win a varsity letter), and lin- ing up votes for “Most Likely to Succeed” in the class yearbook? Af- ter all, first things first, so not much time remained to struggle, in soli- tary agony, with the passive perisphastics of Kick-ero. Some of us even thought of asking Miss Lovelace to excuse se- niors from class recitations, since we were running the school. We sensed that she would not agree, and might even ask why we were running so hard. So we tried to look inconspicuous during recitation time, and to ad lib if the axe (she would prefer ascia) fell. A patient lady, she interrupted after I had run out of improbable meanings on one May day. Why had I not prepared the assignment, one of the most beautiful in all literature? At least I had a ready answer; I was up half the night preparing a special issue of the Jefferson News (our student paper) to honor the champion tennis team. She nodded and smiled—not a happy but a sad one—and said, “Well, I’m sure Kick-ero can’t compete against the district champions. So I’ll excuse you, Marshall . . . and hope that someday later on . . .” Nor was that fine lady, who looked like an early Roman empress on a well-minted coin, the only one who held up Cicero as a model. It happened all over again in graduate school. The course was in literary Prelude 5

Foreign Language Depart- ment, Jefferson High School, Roanoke, VA. Miss Sally Lovelace (Latin) on the far left.

The author was managing editor of his high school newspaper, the Jefferson News.

The Literary Team, Jefferson High School, 1939. The author is in the first row, far right. The Literary Team participated in competitive debates, drama, and writing projects. 6 CICERO, CLASSICISM, AND POPULAR CULTURE criticism. Choosing the twentieth century for my thesis, I would hardly have expected to meet an ancient Roman again. The famous Yale professor who was to guide us through all the ambiguities of William Empson and the whimsies of Ezra Pound startled me by saying,

If you want to understand the way civilized people write and speak today, go back and study Cicero. He was the greatest single force in shaping our language and style in this century and every other one, for that matter.

“Back to Cicero,” I declared. But then I had to study for my Ger- man reading exam, take an extra job in the library, publish an article, etc. Being young, I had my own academic empire to build. Too bad that those wise professors didn’t insist that we memorize the compli- ment that Cicero’s political enemy, Julius Caesar, paid him: “It is better to extend the frontiers of the mind than to push back the bound- aries of the empire.” With so much empire building, there was no place for Cicero. Starting at the bottom of the academic ladder, you learn quickly enough what you have to do to “make it.” It was like running high school all over again, except at a faster pace. The students, busy running the college, didn’t think much of ancient history, which they defined as anything before Pearl Harbor. (This has since changed; now it’s anything before 9/11.) This, after all, was the American Century. The alert academic empire-builder was wise to teach about it at home and abroad. Many of us did just that. Out came articles and books, which led to grants and trips. What did they want and expect you to talk about in the Old World? The New World: Beat literature, black poets, cinema, mass communication. A sort of circular process prevailed: Study what you can use, which you can use because you have studied it. Become a “specialist.” Don’t ask the big questions that have bothered humanists for centuries. Find a simple hobbyhorse, and ride it for the rest of your career. This specialization was as pronounced in the humanities as in the social and natural sciences. Even if humanists study original thinkers, W. H. Auden noted, they write books on books on books. Knowing what someone says about a novel is more important that what the novelist writes. I recall going to a movie with a “specialist” on nine- Prelude 7 teenth-century English literature, a film version of the nineteenth- century English novel Wuthering Heights. “What did you think of it?” I asked as we left. “I have no opinion, really,” he replied. “I’m in the later part of the nineteenth century.” Why do scholars settle for such a narrow framework? Why not try for an overview? That’s what I wanted to do. I was lucky enough to have a Fulbright grant to one of Europe’s oldest universities, in Bolo- gna, Italy, to lecture on American Studies and find out what links our traditions and history.

The author in his office abroad. 8 CICERO, CLASSICISM, AND POPULAR CULTURE Word of the grant reached our dean, and he called me to his office. “Congratulations,” he said. “I have a suggestion. We need a new course on the classical world, now that we’re entering the Global Vil- lage. One of the early advocates of the global perspective was Cicero. He’s also called the godfather of popular culture. I know you’re interested in that. Why not see if you can put this together, and offer a new course? Classical culture, Cicero, world unity, popular culture—can you put them all together and do a book?” “That’s a big order,” I said, “and a real challenge.” My mind flew back to Miss Sally Lovelace, and her hoping that “some day later on...”Hasthat day suddenly come? I think so. One of our leading scholars, Michael Grant, thinks Cicero’s trea- tises require mature and independent minds, since they grapple with problems that rarely admit to purely intellectual solution, and call on all the resources of our humanities. Only increasing experience, maturity, and an increasing network of ties and responsibilities, A. E. Douglas adds, allows one to enter the real world of Cicero. He writes on adult topics for readers with adult tastes.1 I hope I qualify. Off then, to the library. Choose any source, and discover that Marcus Tullius Cicero has created a kind of library of his own. Begin with his own writings: edition after edition, revision after revision, standing like Roman centurians on the shelves, ready to ward off any attack or ambush. Considerable Ciceronian commentary also exists in Latin. J. S. Reid’s (1885) M. Tulli Ciceronis Academia is formidable enough until one stares at three hefty tomes—J. B. Mayor’s (1896) trilogy, titled M. Tulli Ciceronis De Natura Deorum. One moves on, looking for books in English. En route are many major works in other languages such as H. Willrich’s (1944) Cicero und Caesar, M. Rambaud’s Cicéron et l’histoire romaine (1955), and E. Ciaceri’s (1941) Cicerone ei suoi tempi. Surely most major items have now been translated into English. Not so. There is still no translation of M. Gelzer’s authoritative German biography (Cicero: Ein biographishen Versuch, 1969), the most detailed in existence. Nor has the work of Asconius and other ancient commentators on Cicero’s speeches been translated. As a leading Cicero scholar, D. R. Shackleton Bailey (1978) points out in Cicero’s Letters to His Friends: Prelude 9 I know of nothing to equal the work of Christian Meier, especially Res Publica Amissa (Wiesbaden, Steiner, 1966) and Caesar Burgerkrieg, 1964, republished in Entstehung des Begriffs Demokratis. Unfortunately it has not been translated.2

Those who do not read Latin and German fluently are blocked in Ciceronian scholarship, which tends to make Cicero the property of university elites, especially in the field of the classics. Schools such as Oxford and Cambridge in England, and Harvard, Yale, and Colum- bia in the United States have had a kind of Cicero monopoly. This goes back to Elizabethan times, when Ben Johnson lamented that William Shakespeare read “little Latin and less Greek.” Little wonder. Not until long after Shakespeare’s death was the first reputable Cicero biography available in English, Conyers Middleton’s History of the Life of Marcus Tullius Cicero, published in 1741. This study, Henry Joseph Haskell notes, was an indiscriminating panegyric, making no attempt to deal with the complexities of Cicero’s life and influence. It was the only life of Cicero available in English for a century.3 Colley Cibber, an actor and dramatist, published a critical reply called The Character and Conduct of Cicero in 1747; not until 1839 did a second biography appear, written by J. F. Hollings for the “Fam- ily Library Series,” and called The Life of Marcus Tullius Cicero. Containing little that was new, it was less adulatory than Cibber’s work. The next book, which didn’t appear until the middle of the nineteenth century, was Charles Merivale’s 1854 translation from the German of An Account of the Life and Letters of Cicero, which B. R. Abeken had written in 1835. William Forsyth’s Life of Marcus Tullius Cicero (1864) was written in English, A. D. Jones’s Cicero and His Friends (1897) was a translation from French of Gaston Boissier’s 1865 book. The Reverend W. Lucas Collins, Anthony Trollope, G. E. Jeans, Eduard Munk, and J. L. Strachan-Davidson produced works in the last years of the nineteenth century. R. Y. Tyrrel and L. C. Purser edited The Correspondence of M. Tullius Cicero (Dublin, 1879- 1885). When the British entered World War I in 1914, only ten biog- raphies or histories had been published in English; two were translations. All had been written from members of the same upper class to which Cicero belonged, and either consciously or unconsciously 10 CICERO, CLASSICISM, AND POPULAR CULTURE adopted his point of view. By World War II, only the Boissier and the Strachan-Davidson were still in print.4 Although Cicero’s writings are very old, they are never out of date or out of style. They remain our richest source of classical Latin prose. His writings show amazing variations of stylistic shades. A new reading and updating has to be rewarding for anyone interested in the mystery of good style. I recall the smile on Sally Lovelace’s face when I asked: Is there anything in English? Anything? Shelves full, not only in English but other modern languages. In addition, I find a whole series of recent studies attesting to continuing fascination such as H. J. Haskell’s (1942) This Was Cicero, B. F. Harris’s (1961) Cicero As an Aca- demic, David Stockton’s (1988) Cicero: A Political Biography, Edith Hamilton’s (1993) The Roman Way, and Anthony Everitt’s (2001) Cicero: The Life and Times of Rome’s Greatest Politician. As if that isn’t enough, I checked in the bookstore. Volumes of Cicero are available in the Penguin editions, translated and introduced by such leading scholars as Michael Grant, Horace McGregor, John M. Ross, and D. R. Shackleton Bailey. Cicero may be underesti- mated by me, but not to many others. I stacked up my desk with Cicero and started reading. Then I went to my computer, got online, and waited for the Cicero entries; not only scores of books, but also hundreds of articles have been published since 1990. One would have to run fast to keep up with new materials on Marcus Tullius Cicero. Several of the new scholars point out that Cicero’s works tend to fall into four distinct categories: philosophical, rhetorical, legal, and personal. Items range from On Invention, which Cicero finished in 84 BC when he was twenty-six, to the great works On Friendship, On Duties, and On Virtues, completed in 44 BC, the year of Caesar’s assassination. As his Latin titles indicate, he was a great “De” (in Eng- lish, “on”) man with these titles. Philosophical writings included translations, dialogues, and discussions. The rhetorical works centered on oratory, methods of drawing conclusions, and case studies of famous orators. What we have here is the most successful and persuasive oratory ever delivered, at a time when oratory was the major civil activity and the nucleus of the educational system. Prelude 11 As Rome’s leading lawyer, Cicero pleaded cases and causes before courts, assembly, and Senate. When it came to murder trials, he had few equals in history. In Defense of Marcus Caelius Rufus and In De- fense of Titus Annius Milo are court drama at its best. His Philippics Against Marcus Antonius were so powerful that Antonius (Mark Antony) had him killed for delivering them. The personal writing is centered into a remarkable group of 800 letters, most not intended for publication, which are unique in classical literature. Cicero is one of the greatest letter writers of all times. The range of his public and private interests, the variety of his moods, his facility in expressing every shade of sense and feeling, above all his spontaneity, have never in combination been excelled or equaled. Putting all these categories together, what can we say about the writing of Cicero? It is one of history’s great legacies. Because of this work, we know Cicero better than any other individual from ancient times, indeed, better than almost any other historical figure until modern times. Many have devoted their lives to studying his work and influence. In the middle of my life, lost in the academic woods, I have been asked to follow the light of Cicero, not only in books, but in Italy. Cicero, no longer a neglected friend, but a force to be reexamined. Having failed in the urban power struggle, he succeeded in the country. His words were more enduring than the swords of Caesar or An- tony, or the Roman Republic itself. Cicero’s words were not more enduring than Rome. So let us go there, you and I, to the spot where Caesar was stabbed, where Antony asked Romans to lend him their ears, where Cicero’s severed head and hand hung. Off we go, searching for Cicero: the adventure of a lifetime. I packed my bags, got my papers in order, and checked my Fulbright documents and airline ticket. Wait for me, Cicero. Cicero,Cicero, Model Model forfor the the Ages Ages

Off to Europe: Sitting on the runway of JFK Airport in New York, waiting in a long line of planes held up by a light fog—planes full of a thousand people, tail to tail, like fresh-canned sardines. What a way to begin the great adventure. Our plane, Alitalia, was the tenth in line: what got people into Dante’s tenth ring in the Inferno? I looked around from my aisle seat in row M. The quiet desperation that comes whenever tired people enter a confined space was becoming noisy. My fellow sardines were becoming restless. Everyone asked the same two questions: What time is it? When do we take off? The day has gone on forever. Dimly one recalls the early morning frenzy, suitcases in the car, final phone calls, bumper-to- bumper traffic on what city planners like to call “main arteries” and “ex- pressways.” Red—yellow—green lights. Signs, words, warnings: MOVE! Somewhere back there, a kaleidoscopic vision has replaced America the Beautiful: logos, colors, gonad-grabbers, gut-grabbers, slogans—Gino’s, Bobo’s, Fried Chicken, Fudd’s Fritters, Big Mac, Big Pete’s, Burger King, Dairy Queen, Stop ’N’ Shop, Shake ’N’ Bake, Flip ’N’ Flop, Clickety clock. Clock—that’s the enemy! The hands on the clock will strangle you and the plane will leave without you. Check in at six. Hurry up and wait. If you do make it, you can board at nine or ten, move on to the crowded runway at about ten miles per hour, hear about the delay. Sit, squirm, sweat, and watch as the stewardesses parade up and down the aisles. All of this came to pass. Down the aisles paraded the slim, tight- skirted stewardesses, with skin colors appropriate for the Global Village—white, olive, pale yellow, brown. They all had white teeth, and lots of smiles. The first strategy was to give us a free drink. Drinks went down, the temperature went up (air conditioning doesn’t work before takeoff) and we were forced to listen to talk over the intercom:

Buon giorno, as we say in sunny Italy! This is Mario, your Alitalia purser. We’re going to make this the best trip—we say viaggio in Italian—you have ever had! I can make plane reservations right on board. Our computers never sleep but you will, once we’re in the air, and you’ve had our tasty dinner. Meanwhile if you want anything

Cicero, Classicism, and Popular Culture © 2007 by The Haworth Press, Inc. All rights reserved. doi:10.1300/5333_02 13 14 CICERO, CLASSICISM, AND POPULAR CULTURE at all, just press your button, and Daniella or Lisa or Ginger will come....

Oh come, oh come Immanuel, and Daniella and Lisa, and Ginger. Get us to sunny Italy.

This is both a scholarly and a popular account of a great man in a great age. The two terms are not antithetical. Scholarly works can be very popular and popular works can serve scholars. Think of “popular” in the original Latin meaning of populus, roots; and popularis, suitable to the majority, to the people. Great books enjoy enduring popularity. The Bible, the Koran, and many classics have challenged scholars, and remain best sellers. In the secular world, Homer’s Odyssey, Edward Gibbon’s (1910) The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire, or Sir James George Frazer’s (1922) The Golden Bough, delight scholars and are very popular. Por- tions of Cicero and the words he invented are part of the common heritage. I make no claim to original scholarship or discoveries. This book is not a polemic but a tribute. Cicero has touched my life at many points, and I want to tell my story. To do so I work at a point where three vectors intersect: cultural an- thropology, major histories of the times in which Cicero lived and died, and the writings (speeches, letters, articles) of Cicero, which are voluminous. They were written in Greek or Latin. I have sometimes depended on translations, if they surpass my skill with these ancient languages.1 So what, then, are we searching for? A man, a myth, a link between many different times, places, and epochs? All of these, and more: the way in which the past influences and changes the present; how a city, Rome, became eternal; and how we go there as pilgrims, hoping to find the answer to eternal questions. Our story has not one but four focal points, four angles of vision. The first is a man who lived in the last century BC—Marcus Tullius Cicero. The second is places he lived and visited, with Rome as his city of destiny. The third is the time, the last century before Christ; the final bloody years of the Roman Republic, involving Caesar and Cicero, the collapse of the Republic, and the expansion of a great empire. The fourth is the author, searching for Cicero; recalling the teacher who started the search and those who were his guides. Cicero, Model for the Ages 15 The result is a hybrid: part biography, part travelogue, part historical survey, part memoir and personal observations. Call it a mosaic, a pattern made by inlaying pieces of variously colored material to form pictures or patterns. Mosaics may be maps made of aerial photo- graphs, or films made special by cutting and editing. Mine will be composed of material from many sources, including scholarship new and old, interviews, and imagination. As the voyage ends, we ask what relevance Cicero might have in our new twenty-first century. I hope the mixture and the mosaic are worthy of all those who have been so helpful and supportive. Our guide will be Marcus Tullius Cicero, a flawed but fascinating man who lived a century before Christ, gained power, and lost it. He insisted that the public living in a republic (res publica), elective rep- resentatives, and not dictators, should have the decisive power. He has captured the popular imagination not only of his generation, but of many others since his death. He saw Rome’s greatest dictator, Caesar, assassinated; determined in vain to block another dictator; failed, and paid for it with his life. It is a story well worth telling and throws light not only on his times but also on ours. That fame and power go hand in hand (a principal thesis) was well demonstrated in America’s 2004 presidential election. Four white Anglo-Saxon males, all millionaires, ran for the highest office in the land. Their names and rhetoric were known not only by Americans, but also by millions of people around the world. They had instant sta- tus, and no doubt instant and enduring anxiety. The world was watching. What few know is that many of their words, and rhetorical style, are derived from Cicero. He shaped the rhetoric which we hear daily on the television and radio, and read in newspapers, books, and magazines. Some will applaud, others will attack what they hear or read. So it was in Cicero’s time, and in ages that followed. Our Founding Fathers knew Cicero well, as did most early presidents. Cicero helped shape both our Declaration of Independence and our Constitution. Succeeding generations and Americans of all ranks and persuasions have heeded Cicero. I am proud to be in that number, having lived with and learned from him for most of my life. He has inspired and guided me; taught me how best to write, think, and cope with the ups and downs of outrageous fortune. His mastery of words, phrases, and ideas has influenced thousands for centuries. The influ- 16 CICERO, CLASSICISM, AND POPULAR CULTURE ence of Cicero on the history of our literature and ideas may well ex- ceed that of any other prose writer in any language. Consider this: Marcus Tullius Cicero (106-43 BC) was, with the possible exception of Jesus, the central figure of Western civilization. He was a man for all seasons and centuries—poet, philosopher, writer, scholar, barrister, statesman, patriot, linguist—who helped mold Latin into a universal language. We know more about him than any classical figure. His works, speeches, and letters fill many volumes. He gave Rome and the West- ern world part of its philosophical vocabulary, having studied and mastered Greek and restated it in Latin. He inspired new words, which, when translated into English become appetite, quality, individual, notion, comprehension, infinity, and popular. Known to generations of students as Tulli, Cicero always has had both staunch defenders and detractors. Some say he did not have an original mind, but all agree he had a silver tongue. He helped make Latin the benchmark of eloquence, influencing many languages. He fought and died trying to preserve the fragile Roman Republic. In this Cicero failed, but now republics and democracies everywhere are in his debt. The United States is an important outpost of Ciceronian thought. As we do, he championed a strong senate to check demagoguery and executive power. One of Cicero’s many admirers, George Washing- ton, became America’s Pater Patriae, Father of his Country, the term Cato the Younger had bestowed on Cicero. Benjamin Franklin praised Cicero in Poor Richard’s Almanac; John Adams used him often as a model; Thomas Jefferson was in many ways America’s Cicero. As fate would have it, I first met Cicero at Thomas Jefferson High School in Roanoke, Virginia. Jefferson was a Ciceronian. They both were dedicated to their special declarations of independence, promoting democracy. They wanted governments that would give all people in the Republic (res publica) life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. Both were willing to die free men rather than live under tyrants. How Cicero might have enjoyed discussing all this with Thomas Jefferson at Monticello! Reputations go up and down over the centuries, as have Cicero’s and Jefferson’s, but the glory of Cicero’s rhetoric has been constant. Rhetoric is the art of using words to move and influence an existing audience, or to create a new one. Its origins can be traced back to Cicero, Model for the Ages 17 Corax, whose rhetoric helped overthrow early Sicilian tyrants around 500 BC. Later it was Cicero who made rhetoric and oratory central factors in both classical and modern civilizations. He was, wrote Petrarch, the god of eloquence. He is to this day. In his lifetime two forces clashed: the sword versus the senate, Caesar versus Cicero, dictator versus democrat. Caesar had the sword and died from it. Cicero had the style and lived by it. The two forces still clash in the twenty-first century throughout many parts of the world. A complex man in a difficult time, Cicero was quick to admit his faults and mistakes. We continue to have new Caesars, renamed Kai- ser, Czar, Chairman, and Divine Leader. Cicero, like Jefferson, is always there to challenge and denounce them. His thoughts echo in our Congress, parliaments, and international meetings. They attract ex- perts, columnists, and historians. They are both profound and popular. The best professor I had in graduate school at Yale—a leading critic of twentieth-century literature—opened his seminar by saying,

My purpose will be to teach you what makes certain writing good, and why some styles outlast the age that invents them. Most of what I myself have learned comes from Cicero, the greatest force in shaping Western literature. He taught us how to think and how to write.

But soon we were analyzing Joyce, Yeats, Pound, and Eliot, and there was no time for Cicero. Instead of brushing up on Latin, one faced the grim necessity of passing reading exams in German, and planned accordingly. There were book reports, papers, a thesis. To get ahead, one had to follow the example of Caesar, not Cicero, and start building an empire: academic, not geographic, but an empire nonetheless. Meanwhile, out in the real world was a new American Empire, in what was heralded, in the age of Eisenhower, Reagan, Clinton, and Bush, as the American Century. Ready or not, we are thrust in the role of the world’s leading power, just as Rome had been. In the youth of my old age, I met a very different Cicero: a scholar and craftsman of the highest order. No one has thought more deeply about emphasis, contrast, repetition, and word order. More words at- tributed to him include quality, individual, definition, difference, ele- 18 CICERO, CLASSICISM, AND POPULAR CULTURE ment, property, science, infinity, notion, species, vacuum, and image. He was both “academic” and “traditional.” Yet there is always the other Cicero, anxious to escape from the Academy and appear in the marketplace, the forum, the law court, the man who loved the crowd, the processions, the fluid mob. Vanity, wit, and need for acclaim are part of this paradigm. There was a “bit of the ham” in Cicero as he strutted across the stage of life. He could never resist having the last word—even when it might (and did) cost him his life. For years I have studied that life and the fascinating people (Cae- sar, Cato, Brutus, Cassius, Octavius, Mark Antony) who shared it with him. What was at first a literary exercise has become much more: a path back to the living past, and shared sources. I see the “Cicero Syndrome”—dazzling promise, early fame, power ambiguities, public renunciation, forced retirement—everywhere around me. Consider Winston Churchill, whose own words summed up his ousting from office:

I wielded in ever-growing measure power for five years and three months of world war, at the end of which time, all our enemies having surrendered unconditionally, I was immediately dismissed by the British electorate from all further conduct of their affairs.2

I want to learn and share Cicero’s solution: how he continued to grow when he got old, tossed aside by the system that had made him famous. How was he able not only to analyze his style and goals but to develop new ones? How did he develop an admirable independence, in which acclaim did not affect him, and heavy griefs, and fear for his own survival, would be under control? There are no easy answers, perhaps no answers at all, but lessons may be learned and applied. Cicero’s annus mirabilis did not come merely with the fresh air and clean water. At sixty, he knew he must draw on all he had done, been, and thought over the years. That was the time to select and summarize; not to please others, but himself. Cicero not only understood this but also acted on it. With energy and sensitivity he modified his style. While some long-term relationships broke down, others deepened and flowered. His was a daunting task; he did not win all his battles. To some extent, Elizabeth Rawson points out, Cicero remained prone to emotional Cicero, Model for the Ages 19 extremes and inconsistencies. “But one must honor his attempt to live up to standards which are so fine. He extended the frontiers of the Ro- man spirit.”3 One must decide which of several Ciceros is the goal; and expect to find in each one a wide range of offerings. I want to summarize their combined impact on the popular imagination. This will be a personal manifesto. My favorite Life of Cicero was written by the English novelist An- thony Trollope (1815-1882). One of the popular writers of his day (his book, Barchester Towers, earned 3,525 English pounds—an enormous amount in Victorian times); he had a sense of Cicero as vivid, many-sided, and earthy, similar to his own fictional characters. He liked Cicero’s rejection of the simplistic and absolute, his large- ness of mind, wit, and ability to see the many sides of situations. Most of all he admired his style, both profound and popular. This ancient Roman was his soul mate. In an 1876 letter Trollope reported having read Cicero from beginning to end, and planned to write The Life of Cicero. He began work in 1876 and finished in 1880, after which it was published in London and New York and then republished in 1981.4 With his novelist’s instincts and skill, he speculates on how Cicero might have fared in Victorian times:

What a man he would have been for London Life! How popular he would have been at the Carlton! How crowded would have been his rack with dinner invitations! To him ginger was always hot in the mouth, be it the spice of politics, of social delight, or of intellectual enterprise.5

Cicero popularized ethics and philosophy; he wrote with care, dis- crimination, and imagination, lifting the level of discussion and thought, “In sum,” Henry Haskell concludes, “he vastly contributed to the graciousness, the sparkle, the understanding, the urbanity, that are essential factors in civilized intercourse.”6 I have already achieved this: Cicero has become my friend. What he had to say in On Friendship, On Duties, and On Old Age has changed my outlook. He has shown me that friends, not power, position, or adulation, are the greatest gifts bestowed on humans; that real friendship adds a glow to prosperity and relieves adversity by divid- ing and sharing the burden. Friendship is a complete identity of feel- 20 CICERO, CLASSICISM, AND POPULAR CULTURE ing about all things in heaven and earth; the older we get, the more we comprehend this. Old age is not a curse but a blessing. When the endless campaigns of sex, ambition, rivalry, quarreling, and all other passions are ended, we return to live within ourselves and are well off. Old age which feeds off knowledge and learning is the supreme satisfaction. Be- sieged and beset by the youth culture (where everything young is at a premium, everything aging at a discount), we find in Cicero a model who wanted to live gracefully and accept stoically all that awaited him, including the last long good night. Much of my academic life has been spent probing popular culture. It invades our lives. For proof, turn on your television; check the news from Washington, London, Paris, Moscow, or Beijing; see a blockbuster movie or parade. Cicero would understand what is taking place. I want to restore Marcus Tullius Cicero to his proper place in history, not by merely repeating the facts of his life and writing, which have been studied and restudied for centuries, but to document his ef- fect on the language, morality, and popularity of Western culture, including the electronic world of the twenty-first century. Moving UpMoving the Ladder: Up The the New Ladder: Man from Arpinum The New Man from Arpinum

Men may rise on stepping stones To higher things.

Alfred, Lord Tennyson

Then as now, Rome was the place to go if power, frame, or wealth lured you on. It was “where things are happening.” Marcus’s invalid father, anxious for his sons to get fine educations and political ca- reers, decided to move to Rome in 90 BC when Marcus was sixteen. The Rome to which the Cicero family migrated had a long, proud, and petulant history. There are no reliable sources of the early centuries. The Roman republic, a community of yeoman and farmers living in and around a fortified town, was efficient but aggressive. It was a motley mix of tribes and clans, gathered along the banks of the muddy Tiber River. They called themselves Romans, since legend has it that Romulus was their founder. They still celebrate an exact founding date: April 21, 753 BC. An ancient calendar has this inscription: Parilia—Roma Condita (The festival of Pales—Founda- tion of Rome). Pales was the divinity of flocks and herds. Arche- ologists believe that a settlement existed around 800 BC on the Palatine populated by shepherds from the hinterland. By 600 BC, Rome was a flourishing city under a monarchy that was succeeded by a republic. By 272 BC that republic controlled the Italian peninsula south of Genoa. Wars of the next 150 years found Rome the successor of the universal empire of Alexander the Great. Expansion continued through the reign of the emperor Trajan (98-117 AD), who celebrated Immensa Romanae pacs maiestas (boundless majesty of the Roman peace). His empire stretched from Scotland to the Sudan, and from Portugal to the Caucasus. That peace came after Cicero’s death in 43 BC.

Cicero, Classicism, and Popular Culture © 2007 by The Haworth Press, Inc. All rights reserved. doi:10.1300/5333_03 21 22 CICERO, CLASSICISM, AND POPULAR CULTURE Over the years three dominant languages emerged—Umbrian, Latin, and Oscan. The early poet Ennius said he spoke Greek, Latin, and Oscan. Latin emerged as the unifying language, with Cicero as its greatest proponent and craftsman. A common language helped Rome and Italy to unite, a feat celebrated by the poet Virgil with a famous prediction: Sit Romana potens Itala virtute propago (Great will be the power of Italian stock, linked to the valor of Rome). The Ciceros came from that agrarian stock and moved to an ever-expanding Rome. Political unity, so dear to Cicero’s heart, came slowly. With the ab- sorption of Gallia Cisalpina in the age of Cicero and Caesar power was extended from the Alps to the Strait of Messina. Virgil’s proph- ecy of Roma, the master of empire, was becoming fact. After this brief synopsis we go back to the Ciceros’ entry to Rome in 90 BC. In Athens, events were happening that would change Marcus’s life. The Mithradatic War was about to erupt. Scholars such as Philo were deciding to immigrate to Rome. Head of the Academy that Plato had founded in a green grove near the Cephisus River outside Athens, Philo moved to Rome in 88 BC. There he began a school. One of his first pupils was young Marcus Cicero. Rome, his new home, would be his road to fame. The Ciceros settled in a house on Equiline Hill; though not as fashionable as the Palatine, it was a respectable quarter where Pompey later lived. Marcus and his brothers visited this elegant section to study at the house of Lucius Crassus. Here were Rome’s best teachers; they were probably all Greek. Cicero received most of his rhetorical training in Greek. It was a richer language than Latin, and the best teachers were Greek. His teachers prevented him from going to the school of Latin oratory run by a friend of Marius. Education at Rome was more Greek at this time than ever before or after; when Cicero had enriched the Latin language and brought Roman oratory to full maturity there was less need to use Greek models. Young Cicero was an excellent pupil, and might well have considered becoming a teacher himself. Then, as now, real power dwelled not with those who taught, but with those who ruled. Since he had no interest in the military, the next best choice might be politics. There his power would be with his tongue, not his sword. Moving Up the Ladder: The New Man from Arpinum 23 How did future leaders of Rome acquire the proper education? They were expected, as were both Cicero and Caesar, to study Greek and Latin literature and philosophy, the background for a life in the military, law, or oratory. Cicero knew that since he had no fortune, he must excel in his debates. For this nothing mattered more than the ability to speak well, a skill not learned at school. Tutors guided a young man’s progress. He would also go as a pupil to a prominent lawyer, and listen to him discussing his cases. The law courts in Rome, grouped around the Forum and open to the public—they were a popular entertainment—saw a lot of the young Cicero and his friends. Here they could listen to the arguments of the prosecution and defense, and see how the speaker affected the jury. They continued this sort of practical education until the age of eighteen or nineteen. He mastered the practice of the “declamation,” which stressed the delivery of speeches on imaginary problems. People gathered around to hear Cicero; this fed his passion for attention, which would always drive him on. Entering the advanced grammatus, he spent time studying Greek authors, especially Homer. One of Homer’s ideas especially inspired and guided him; always be the best and excel over others. He was determined to do just that. Cicero would have to become a leading orator. It was unlikely that a young man with Cicero’s rural background could rise far in Rome. He did have a model: M. Aemilius Scaurus, a friend of Cicero’s grandfather. He, like Cicero, had had to make it as a “New Man.” His political ability enabled him to become a censor and leader of the Senate. Then he could contract a marriage with the powerful Metelli family. Cicero said that it was Scaurus who convinced him to enter politics. He had one advantage that Scaurus lacked: high distinction in oratory. His silver tongue opened doors that otherwise would have been closed. He spent days studying Latin speeches by prominent orators. He also memorized the Twelve Tables, the ancient body of law, which was always accessible to him. In 90 BC when he was sixteen and had come to man’s estate he exchanged the toga with a purple stripe, worn by children, for the plain toga virilis of natural wool. By then his chief loves were poetry, rhetoric, and philosophy. He was encouraged to write poetry by the Greek 24 CICERO, CLASSICISM, AND POPULAR CULTURE poet Archias; however, almost all of his poetry has been lost. We are left to wonder—had he followed his passion and devoted his time and energy to poetry, might Cicero have been a great poet? One thing the young student learned and never forgot: the road to power and prestige lay in public life. Only there could one hope for important rewards: position, authority, reputation, and influence. Cicero went on to catalog the visible symbols of success: the toga with a purple border, an ivory office chair, a lictor’s rod, and prov- inces to command. He wanted them all. To win in ancient Rome, you had to know how to play the game. The Ciceros, a proud and prominent provincial family, knew the rules. The basic formula came in three words: Do ut des—I give that you may give. Society rested on matching favors and obligations. You had to have patrons. Personal connections were called clientela (clientship). The job of the patron was to look after your interests, and push you forward and upward. The client must do the patron’s bid- ding, even if recruited as a bodyguard or soldier. Clientship helped hold Rome and its expanding empire together. The Ciceros sought and got Roman patrons. One, Caius Visellius Aculeo, a maternal uncle, was close to the wealthy Crassus, who lived in an elegant house on the Palatine Hill. Crassus would later help bankroll Caeser and the Cicero brothers, Marcus and Quintus. Marcus also became a pupil of Crassus’s father-in-law, Quintus Mucius Scaevola, a senior Roman juris. During these early years his desire to become a lawyer became deeply entrenched. He found writing easy, completing as many as 500 lines a night, and translated Greek freely. The work was challenging, like that of being a leading actor. That helped further his friendship with Rome’s best-known actor, Quintus Roscius Gallus. Cicero had little military experience: that was enough to convince him he was not cut out to be a soldier. In 89 BC, when he was seven- teen, he served under Pompeius Strabo on the northern front. Here he met Pompey, Strabo’s son, later known as Pompey the Great, who was born in the same year as Cicero. Pompey was an admirable soldier who was an army commander before he was twenty-five, and was appointed consul at thirty-six. He liked Cicero and befriended him in later life. Pompey would make the mistake of confronting Caesar, which cost him his life. Moving Up the Ladder: The New Man from Arpinum 25 Leaving the army, Cicero returned to Rome and pursued the career that would make him famous, that of an advocate and orator. Quintus Hortensius was the leading orator then. In Cicero’s earliest extant speech in 81 BC, Pro Quinctio, he confronted Hortensius as an oppo- nent. Cicero cleverly used his own inexperience and stressed the strength of the case he was pleading. It involved a complicated part- nership dispute, and the final decision has been lost. In Cicero’s youth, power rested with a group of noble families who were extensively intermarried. Through patronatus (patronage) they controlled voting wards (known as tribes or centuries) and decided every matter brought to a vote, including the annual elections of mag- istrates. Patrons looked out for their clients as well as their relatives and friends. Popular leaders strove for support from the popular assembly of the tribes. They organized their supporters into clubs to put pressure on the noble groups. The result was a kaleidoscopic pattern of deals and alliances. The key to victory was money. (Things haven’t changed much in twenty-one centuries.) Everyone dunned clients and tribes for contributions. These were not considered bribes, a term applied when one gave money to other candidates. It all added up to legalized power plays. His determination to “be someone,” to move up the ladder, never left him. He was determined to be a successful orator. What might this require of him? He predicted a rocky road. He would have to re- nounce most pleasures, avoid amusements, recreation, games, and entertainment. Perhaps it would cost him friendships, even his life. This burning ambition would finally devour him; but it would also make him immortal. With this in mind he wrote his first major treatise, in 84 BC, De Inventione (Topics for Speeches). It lists techniques for finding facts, cautioning that one must not recklessly assume something to be true. His skepticism marked all his later career. He planned to be a truthful hero of the Republic, excelling not on the battlefield, but in the Fo- rum. Cicero was off to a good start. De Inventione was well received, and encouraged him to open his career as an advocate. His breakthrough success came in 80 BC with the defense of Sextus Roscius Amerinus (Pro Roscio Amerino).In the years following he won case after case, and was viewed as one of Rome’s most promising orators. Nothing could have pleased him more. 26 CICERO, CLASSICISM, AND POPULAR CULTURE In all that followed, and with all his stumbling, the sincerity of his defense of both people and property, and a plea to return to peace and order, were consistent notes of his own character. From 79 to 77 BC, he toured Greece and Asia Minor. He spent six months in Athens studying rhetoric with Demetrius of Syria, and philosophy with Antiochus. In Asia he found other teachers. At Rhodes he joined an old friend, Molo, for more training. The trip improved his health, professional skills, and morale. After his initial oratorical successes, Cicero married Terentia Var- rones, who came from a rich and noble family. This was definitely a step up the ladder. His wealthy wife brought him a huge dowry of 480,000 sesterces, houses in Rome, land in Tusculum, and gave him considerable money. This was an advantageous marriage for a young man who had more talent than sesterces. There seems to have been little romance involved. In any case, he would be moving ahead. His daughter Tullia was born in 75 BC. In that same year Cicero joined the Senate, and was appointed quaestor in Sicily. It was a tri- umphant year. The youth from rural Arpinum was doing very well indeed. Yet his successes did not spill over into his marriage. Terentia was thought by many to be a terror. She was determined to direct her husband’s career. She demanded that strong action be taken against the popular politician Sergius Catilina, not for political reasons, but because he had compromised her half-sister Fabia, who was a vestal virgin. This may have been one reason why Cicero agreed to pursue Catiline with such fervor. Invective was an art and convention in Rome. It came into play when Catiline was accused of bribery, murder, treason, and incest with his own daughter. Catiline had powerful friends. They slandered Cicero, but found nothing tangible to object to except his lack of no- bility. In the courts Cicero prevailed, and won the election that made him consul. It was a remarkable achievement. In less than twenty years this New Man had risen from being a little-known lawyer to being joint head of state of the greatest empire the world had known. Cicero entered the consul’s office on January 1, 63 BC. Just what did Cicero believe? He favored what he called natural religion. Some power provides for changes of the seasons and oversees the spacious firmament. This power is good. He (or it) must stay on good terms with the populus. In On the Republic, Cicero wrote that Moving Up the Ladder: The New Man from Arpinum 27 citizens should be told that gods are beneficial, to be obeyed. “Who will deny that such beliefs are useful?” The pragmatist was speaking. Yet, in On Divination, he spoke out against superstitions, such as omens, prophetic dreams, the Delphic oracle, and astrology. We must seek truth without prejudice. St. Augustine commented that Cicero would never say this in a public speech. There was no mass media to give this position away. Only the reading class would know about it. Cicero argued against superstition, not religion, which he said was true, beneficial to the state, sole sanction for such basic concepts as pietas, fides, and iustitia (piety, faith, and justice). Not all his thoughts were this high-minded. He had been appointed an augur—the only “New Man,” except Marius, to hold a major priesthood in 200 years. Augurs determined by bird flights whether a project had the approval of the gods. Was this not a superstition? Yes, but it did little harm; being an augur brought him great good. Cicero knew how to walk both sides of the street. Many books give the details of Cicero’s legal successes. I shall not repeat them here, but will try to tell how and why he excelled in philosophy and politics. He kept moving up the ladder. His youth may have been austere, but his success as a barrister and orator led to power and position. He would be tried and true. The same formula has always beckoned. In America we call it the Horatio Alger story. Alger wrote more than a hundred novels proving the rags-to-riches potential, and making gold from the Guilded Age. Had he lived centuries earlier, he could have told the story of “The Young Country Boy Who Made It in Rome.” The height of Cicero’s success came in putting down Catiline’s conspiracy and having him driven out of Rome. His archenemy Cati- line plotted to murder Cicero, burn the city, and take over power. Cicero discovered all this and made speeches and actions against Catiline his consuming passion. Catiline (Lucius Sergius Catilina, c. 108-62 BC), a descendent of a bold aristocrat turned demagogue, attempted to overthrow the government. He played a minor role in Roman history, but a major one in Cicero’s life. He was accused of several crimes, including incest with a vestal virgin in 73 BC, and bought his way out of trouble. With the help of rich friends, he became praetor in 68 BC, but came under attack for extortion. He was again aided by rich friends, including 28 CICERO, CLASSICISM, AND POPULAR CULTURE Licinius Crassus and Julius Caesar. In 63 BC he ran for consul, but was defeated by Cicero. Angered by his failure, he planned insurrection in Italy and arson in Rome. Other disappointed politicians, debtors, and criminals joined him. Cicero foiled the plot. Several of the incriminated men were arrested and killed without trial. Cicero announced their death to the crowd with the word vixerunt (they are dead) and received a tre- mendous ovation. He was even hailed by the poet Catullus as “Father of his country.” It was the climax of his career. When Catiline joined a force he had created in Etruria, and was killed in the field in January 62 BC, the abortive revolution was ended. But the matter wasn’t closed. Caesar had opposed the hasty action of Cicero, favoring life imprisonment. An obscure law, first em- ployed in 121 BC, prohibited death of a Roman without trial; Cicero’s enemies rallied to invoke it. The Senate passed a law, of doubtful va- lidity, declaring Cicero an exile—a staggering blow and setback. Cicero fled to Thessolonica in Greece in 58 BC. Fortunately, his exile was short. Thanks to powerful friends, including Pompey, he was recalled to Rome in 57 BC. He tried to recover his standings in politics but was shocked when his friend Pompey joined Caesar and Crassus to set up what would be an authoritarian government. He re- fused to join them but was allowed to govern the province of Cilicia for a year. He returned to a Rome that was preparing to abandon the Republic and give the military full control. This was bad news for Cicero, who was fast becoming a leader of the bar and a man of letters. He had neither wealth nor family behind him, had no military skills or ambitions, and could not stop the march toward an authoritarian government. His big head, thick neck, deep voice, and agile tongue had brought him quickly up the ladder. He got each new appointment as soon as he reached the legal age. However, he lacked two qualities needed for political leadership: a knowledge of what he wanted, and an eye for things as they were. In these respects he was the exact opposite of Julius Caesar. Still, Cicero would continue to play a major role in Roman history. Cicero:Cicero: Godfather Godfather of Popular Popular Culture Culture

Make yourself perfectly easy about the language I employ. I have plenty at my command; but my matter is not original.

Cicero, To Atticus

Cicero is both founding father and framing father of the common culture that has evolved into popular culture. “Founding” in that he linked the Greek and Roman worlds, and thus set into play many of the ideas that now control us; “framing” in that he set the framework (in words and documents) that defines much of our culture. If this be true, as I hope to demonstrate, he has few if any equals as a wellspring of the contemporary world. By common consent, Cicero was a literary genius: master of irony, satire, pathos, humor; expert with anecdote, epigram, quotation, pun. Not all of his works have equal merit or impact, of course. Still, his overall influence on Western civilization cannot be challenged even by those who deplore or resent him. Linguistic studies have shown that he either inspired or popularized a number of words, enabling Latin to cope with the abstract thought and nuance of the Greeks. In- cluded are these words:

QUALITY DEFINITION INDIVIDUAL DIFFERENCE

Here’s what he set out to do:

1. Apply ethics to the real world. 2. Popularize Greek thought. 3. Synthesize the position of man and the state at a crucial time in world history. Cicero, Classicism, and Popular Culture © 2007 by The Haworth Press, Inc. All rights reserved. doi:10.1300/5333_04 29 30 CICERO, CLASSICISM, AND POPULAR CULTURE That was the frame he set for his life and work. What a noble one it was! In putting together that frame, more than any other single human being in Western civilization, he did indeed become the Founding Fa- ther of our common culture. Did “the people” with whom he lived, fought, and died know this? We have no way of knowing. Indeed, who were “the people” whom Cicero met on the way to the Forum? What did those who were not the political and social leaders say to and about him? In a society built on slavery, the social gaps are immense; much of what has been written, spoken, and thought disappears when a civilization crumbles and falls. Scholars of our time are doing splendid work in rediscovering and reconstructing much ancient history. But much of the best work—including that of Cicero himself—is lost forever. Enough of it remains, fortunately, for us to put together the strategy he used for his scholarship—the way he went about the framing. The main contours of this can still be discerned. Having dealt with the theory of knowledge in Academics, ethics in The Ends of Good and Evil, and immortality in Tusculan Disputation, Cicero turned in 44 BC (only a year before his death) to The Nature of the Gods. In dialogue form, it sets out to examine the rival positions currently held, holding back any judgment until the end. Cicero’s opinions are puzzling. He points out absurdities in the Stoic position, yet sides with the Stoic speaker. Just what did Cicero believe? Can we banish superstition yet not overthrow religion? Does Cicero see natural law as flowing from God? What sort of God? The man and the times were complex; much of the evidence has been lost. Not only did Cicero try to avoid dogma, he also changed his mind frequently, refusing to be bound by earlier conclusions, freely admitting to resulting contradictions. He would have agreed with Ralph Waldo Emerson who said that consistency was the hobgoblin of little minds. One thing we do know. Cicero did not have a little mind. One must decide which Cicero one is looking for. The orator? This was his strongest suit. At a time when education was based on rhetoric and oratory, Cicero was regarded as Rome’s greatest orator. He wrote extensively on the subject and left us brilliant orations. Or the statesman? He always considered politics his chief calling, and followed it most of his life. He was elected consul while still in Cicero: Godfather of Popular Culture 31 his forties. Even when he fell from favor, he was the confidant of leading politicians. Politics finally killed him. Or the philosopher? This is how he began and ended his life. He always thought of himself as a full-fledged philosopher. Bringing Greek thought into Latin was his noblest dream and highest accom- plishment. He can be seen, in the Greek sense, as a philosopher-king. Should we call him a sage, or a moralist? Over the centuries he has been most admired for what he said in a down-to-earth way about universal problems: friendship, aging, dying, duties, dilemmas. Speaking of being down to earth, Cicero was an enthusiastic farmer and landholder, and can be seen as an agrarian. We can also see him as a major historic figure in the closing days of the Roman Republic, whose biography is made easier by his extraordinary gifts as a letter writer. What do all six Ciceros have in common? Language. If ever a man’s fame grew from words, that man was Marcus Tullius Cicero. Latin was his road to immortality. For centuries it had been a minor branch of the Indo-European family of languages, confined to a small coastal plain of western Italy. About 400 BC, Latin spread across the peninsula, beginning an evolution from a crude dialect to a powerful instrument—eventually to the glue that held civilization together. Latin drew heavily from Greek, which was strong in southern Italy. By Cicero’s time Latin had become a formidable force, capable of producing classics—from classicus, meaning of the highest rank or authority. With poets such as Lucretius and Catullus, Cicero nurtured and shaped Latin into a sensitive means of expression, reflecting not only meanings but values. To poets, speaking and writing were not isolated acts, but parts of a whole social process—the basis of community. Cicero’s greatest gift to humanity was his incomparable use of Latin. What Cicero and other Romans did was to distill and transmit Greek learning into Latin. In doing this they made new use of emphasis, contrast, repetition, word order, questions, exclamations. They learned how to subordinate clauses and tenses so as to get a subtlety and intricacy that never existed before, to create expressive compact prose with harmony that was almost musical. Cicero and his contemporaries gave Roman education a linguistic and literary bent that lasted for centuries. They established Latinity. This in turn gave literature a degree of self-analysis and candor that was unique. Hence 32 CICERO, CLASSICISM, AND POPULAR CULTURE Latin is still the language of scientists, academics, bureaucrats, churches. It assumed a leadership and authority in the ancient world that English might achieve in ours. Cicero helped establish Latin as a language of general ideas, capable of serving as a clear voice to much human thought. Perhaps that’s why both the language and this man’s use of it have endured. Cicero helped to stake out the foundations of what came to be known later as European and American prose. For centuries critics have had only the highest praise for Cicero the wordmonger. Recall what Longinus said in his essay On the Sublime:

Like a spreading great fire, Cicero’s prose ranges and leaps over the whole field. The fire which burns is within him, plentiful and quenchless, moving at his will now in one part, now in another, fed with divine fuel.1

That “divine fuel” is always in short supply. We must make the most of it when it appears, and use it to fire as many engines as possible. In our own time, we must relate Cicero not only to formal literature and oratory, but to popular culture, persuasion, and public rela- tions. As with other well-fueled writers (Shakespeare, Goethe, Tolstoy) he can be adapted to our problems and dilemmas with things he never dreamed of (rockets, atom bombs, computers, laws, goals, morals that would serve not only his time, but any time, any empire). He believed in a harmony of the orders—which earlier Greeks called the music of the spheres. How original was Cicero? That question instantly raises another one: How do you define originality? He didn’t have to invent the framework and divisions of Greek thought—they had been there for generations. Cicero was no Plato or Aristotle, inventing new modes and new fields; he had a different vision and mission. Transmitting was his primary goal. Recall that in Cicero’s day there was no de- mand for “truth” that professed to be new. Originality in a philosopher was considered a flaw, not a merit. People wanted what was true, not what was new. Still, Cicero did transform too. Style is the key—as it was with William Shakespeare, who took what he needed from Plu- tarch or Hollingshead and gave us somthing magnificent. Cicero tells how he worked: Cicero: Godfather of Popular Culture 33 As is my custom, I shall at my own option and discretion draw from the various sources in such measure and manner as shall suit my purpose.2

His range was surprisingly wide. He not only read Greek well, he also studied there, lived there, met many Greek scholars. They in turn knew much about Egypt, Assyria, Persia, but there was little connec- tion with the thought of India and the Far East—with Buddhism, for example. Cicero went eagerly to Greece. It would never have oc- curred to him to go instead to Israel or India. We are talking primarily about Greek philosophy, in three major periods. The first, going back to the sixth and fifth centuries BC, found the Greeks laying ground- work for all that followed, speculating about the physical universe, and shifting gradually to the nature of man. Pythagoras and Socrates were major figures. The second period, in the next century, gave us the mountain peaks of Plato and Aristotle. The chief questions were What is the basis of a just social order? Of the good life? The death of Aristotle in 322 BC brought this epoch to a close. In the two centuries between Aristotle and Cicero, the chief emphasis moved to the individual, and his relation to the universe. By then patriotism and state religion had blended into a single force in Rome. Though Cicero himself didn’t believe in divination, he wanted it continued, as a way of satisfying the people. They wanted, and should get proper ritual performances and respect for sacred places. This was both a state and a class obligation: “The people’s constant need for the advice and authority of the aristocracy holds the state together” (On Laws, Book II). Religion and ritual were Siamese twins. This ritual, visitors such as the Greek historian Polybius tended to notice, made constant use of superstition:

I believe that what maintains Rome’s cohesion is the very thing which others reproach: superstition. These matters are clothed in such pomp and introduced to such an extent into public and private life that nothing can excel them.

Philosophy interested Cicero much more than theology, although the range of his interests and reading was impressive. His noting that he was a student all his life is substantiated by much evidence. But four writers were the pillars on which he built. 34 CICERO, CLASSICISM, AND POPULAR CULTURE The first was Pythagoras, active in southern Italy during the sixth century BC. Key thoughts about the cosmos, and the harmony of the spheres, go back to this half-legendary figure. He discovered that the musical scale could be expressed in numerical ratios, and tried to apply the same scheme to the heavens. This, and his belief in reincarna- tion, were basic for Cicero’s thought, and the model for his Dream of Scipio. Cicero knew about Socrates, but made the work of his pupil Plato central. He thought that Plato, who began his major work around 400 BC, established a rational basis for morality. Cicero summarized his study of Plato’s Academy in his Academics, translated several of Plato’s dialogues, and thought he had mastered the Platonic ideal. He also used the dialogue form extensively. The third writer was Epicurus of Samos, active around 300 BC, who taught that the world is composed of material atoms obeying their own laws. He gave Cicero the same kind of down-to-earth ap- proach that appears in his Epicurean contemporary Lucretius. Cicero’s closest friend Atticus remained an Epicurean, and even when Cicero rejected many of their doctrines, he reflected their influence. If he had a “master,” in the full meaning of that term, it was a fourth figure, Zeno of Citium, who established the Stoic school around 300 BC. Zeno’s philosophy encompassed logic, ethics, and physics. Sto- ics believed that the cosmos was a divine being with a soul, and that humans should accept destiny and live in harmony with nature. Zeno said that as nature had given humans two ears and one mouth, we should listen twice as much as we should speak. The Greeks had no word for culture. We have many. Contemporar- ily, cultural studies are the rage and those affected crowd our class- rooms and our media. Popular cultural studies are booming. Despite all this, we have never concurred on a true definition of “culture.” The classic attempt, A. L. Kroeber and Clyde Kluckhohn’s ency- clopedic Culture: A Critical Review of Concepts and Definitions (1952) listed more than sixty definitions, but did not resolve the obvious differences. Culture, rhetoric, and ice cream have many different flavors. An exasperated Herbert Read, one of the century’s leading art critics, titled one of his final books To Hell with Culture (1963).3 We do agree that culture is a complex and multifaceted thing, more readily identified than defined. We also have no trouble ranking and Cicero: Godfather of Popular Culture 35 rating past cultures. That of Pericles’ Athens, Cicero’s Rome, the Medici’s Florence, Louis XI’s France, and Queen Elizabeth I’s Eng- land are said to be high cultures, while Hitler’s Germany and Stalin’s Russia are much lower. Yet all represent a confluence of various forces. They form a mosaic of ideas, deeds, and attitudes that give them their unique fate and flavor. I believe this is what Cicero did in the century before Christ, though it was not presented as a mosaic, or in other phrases in vogue now. Many follow in his footsteps. What is this Cicero-sired field, popular culture? Begin with two words of Latin derivation (populus, people; and cultus, to till or culti- vate). Cicero was active and pivotal at the time and in the place where popular Roman culture was conceived on a broad scale, and exported to a growing empire. He loved the hustle and bustle of the Roman Fo- rum, the exhilaration of the Rostra and Curia. Cicero never lost the common touch and the needle-prick of reality. He could be phrase- maker and song-and-dance man. In this sense, he was the Godfather of Popular Culture.4 Nor should we ignore the enduring popularity of his own works, which made him loom large in the Roman consciousness. Friend and foe alike saw him as a great Roman, who synthesized prose, poetry, and politics. In the battle with Julius Caesar (and Mark Antony, who inherited Caesar’s mantle), Cicero lost. Later, Caesar Augustus said that Cicero’s conquests would long outlast Caesar’s. He was right. Cicero’s influence, which has fluctuated over the centuries, has nevertheless been continuous and contagious. From Quintillian to Reagan, the Ciceronian phrase has been a key to popularity and power. Cicero’s tongue, once stuck through with a pin in his decapi- tated head, was not silenced.5 He is still speaking to (and I hope through) me. Like so many others, I approached him with skepticism, moved forward with dedication, and ended with admiration. I began as a scholar, soon found in him a friend; it is friendship, as well as scholarship, on which my book rests. I have not labored for years with scores of tomes and printouts merely to footnote an already fully documented life. I have not worked and visited in Italy merely to measure stones and rattle bones. I have sought and in some measure found inspiration and ex- planation for my own life and work. 36 CICERO, CLASSICISM, AND POPULAR CULTURE I shall not conjure up an idealized, glamorized Cicero. He could be a perfect ass, and admitted so, in just those words. Peacock-proud, he was no match for hungry hawks. Few have ever agonized so much over so many choices and made the wrong ones. He had a penchant for offending people in power and paid for it with his head. He confronted Caesar and got slaughtered. Yet this disillusioned, defeated Cicero interests and inspires me most. When he was sixty, he took refuge in writing, and returned to the countryside from which he sought the big city forty years earlier. He had divorced his wife, quarreled with his brother, lost his power. The premature death of his daughter Tullia nearly caused Cicero to take his own life; he seemed a broken man. Then his real genius broke through. Instead of bemoaning his fate, Marcus Tullius Cicero put forth an astonishing burst of creative energy and productivity: “The history of civilization knows few mo- ments equal in importance to the sojourn of Cicero at his house in the country during this brief period.”6 In twenty months he completed eight major works and a variety of minor ones. At least three of these (Discussion at Tusculum, On Duties, and On Friendship) were among his masterpieces. How did he do it? What factors triggered this incredible outpour- ing? What can we learn from it? Can I open up my own wellsprings by drinking from Cicero’s? This is not a formal biography, scholarly analysis, or textual exege- sis. Scores of classicists know more Latin and Greek than I do. Thou- sands of pages on Cicero, his contemporaries, and his times prove it. These are no new texts or discoveries, though I have tried to find and deal with the best work that has been done. What I should like to do for Cicero is what he did (much better) for many other writers and thinkers: bring them to life in a fresh, contemporary way, and extend them across centuries and cultures.7 I will document my belief that Marcus Tullius Cicero is the godfather of popular culture, that he more than any other person has shaped our view of the Greeks and their philosophy, and achieved and maintained a unique place in history. Cicero was present at the end of the faltering republic. His murder was a landmark in the transition to dictatorship. His physical death in 43 BC didn’t mean the end of his influence. He had more power and influence after his death than he did in life. As Anatole France put it, Cicero: Godfather of Popular Culture 37 “Rome n’est pas morte puisqu’elle vit en nous” (Rome isn’t dead, as she is living in us”). I shall show how all that we now call popular culture is part of Cicero’s legacy. I shall also show how the methods and ideas Cicero used for his popularity are basically the same in today’s America. As I intend to show, popular culture has been booming for a number of years. Now that boom is like Emerson’s “shot heard ’round the world.” Whatever else is or is not global, American popular culture surely is. Not everyone, at home and abroad, is pleased. Local, regional, and national interests feel threatened. The battle is raging on a number of fronts. The final outcome is uncertain, but the boom is a reality. Popular culture is generally considered “now time” culture—not so. It is fascinated with both the future and the past, at the same time. We call this the popular culture paradox. Like Proteus, popular culture takes many shapes and forms, sweeping ahead like a hurricane. Who can know what new form, fad, or movement it will generate? To the Four Gospels a fifth was added after the Civil War: the Gos- pel of Success. Best sellers sported such titles as Success in Business (1867), The Secret of Success (1873), Successful Folk (1878), and The Law of Success (1883); culture and economics merged. New heroes perfected formulas that crowd-rousing favorites have long understood. People follow three things: the flag, the crowd, and the money. Consider how this took place during the twentieth century in booming areas of popular culture. Leading the pace were Willie and Billy—William Jennings Bryan and Billy Sunday. Billy Sunday boasted that he knew no more about theology than a jackrabbit knew about Ping-Pong. But Lord, how both Billy and the rabbit could jump. The people loved it. Later they would support a whole host of other spellbinders including Aimee Semple McPherson, Father Divine, Father Coughlin, Oral Roberts, Rex Humbard, Fulton J. Sheen, and Billy Graham. Their disciples do well in the new century.

Soul Mates:Soul Mates: Cicero Cicero and and Jefferson Jefferson

His own soul was like that.

Walter Pater, Marius the Epicurean

The more I search for Cicero the more he reminds me of another figure, perhaps his soul mate. They were separated by centuries, cultures, oceans, and language. If indeed Cicero was right about reincar- nation, believing a deceased person can return to inhabit a living one, might he have come back as Thomas Jefferson? Three themes ran through both their lives: love of land, liberty, and democracy. If we were to apply a label, it might be “agrarian demo- crats.” Cicero’s Tusculum was Jefferson’s Monticello. He fought and finally died for the Roman Republic. Jefferson fought, willing to die, for America’s. He declared that he would rather die a free man than live it under the heels of tyrants. They were both freedom fighters, waging lifelong battles against tyranny over the human mind, always knowing what counted most: life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. Not only Jefferson, but John Adams and Benjamin Franklin imitated Cicero’s style and language. They were all, like Cicero, patriots. Cicero-Jefferson parallels began early and followed them throughout their lives. Jefferson was born in 1743 in rural Albemarle County, Virginia, son of a farmer and justice of the peace. He would return there to build his home, found a university, and be buried. Along the way he penned the Declaration of Independence, founded the Demo- cratic Party, and served as president of the United States. At sixteen he entered the College of William and Mary at Will- iamsburg. He studied both Greek and Latin, developing a love of the classics that never left him. Professor George Wythe, a leading faculty member, saw the young man’s potential and took him into his law

Cicero, Classicism, and Popular Culture © 2007 by The Haworth Press, Inc. All rights reserved. doi:10.1300/5333_05 39 40 CICERO, CLASSICISM, AND POPULAR CULTURE office. After five years there, Jefferson was admitted to the bar in 1767. One sees close parallels with Cicero, a “new man” who also enjoyed early legal successes and dared to oppose the powerful entrenched Roman politicians. They wrote much and accomplished much. Jefferson’s career centered on law and politics, but his lifelong ambition was to be a planter and farmer. He made long excerpts from Cicero’s Tusculan Disputations, those philosophical dialogues taking place in the Cicero’s Roman villa; urbane, attic discussions among friends and philosophers in a country house within a beautiful land- scape setting and a classical architectural surrounding. It was in these early days of Jefferson’s life, even before he made his first plans for Monticello, that he copied from Horace that nostalgic picture of country life by an intellectual of the highest rank:

Happy is he who far from business, Like the first race of man, Can till inherited lands with his teams, Free from all payment of interest.

Shortly afterward, in his plans for a garden and a family burial ground, Jefferson proposed to have the poem inscribed near a temple with the statue of a reclining nymph. Like those Romans of old, he thought that cities were the centers of the “elegant arts”; but the useful arts, together with health, virtue and freedom, could be practiced fully in the country. They were agrarians, raised on the land, proud owners of estates. The Tusculum Villa and Monticello were the prides of their lives, central to their way of thinking. Agrarians stand by a central truth. Crops and politics change, but the basic premises of rural life remain. Don’t exploit nature; become a part of it. Combination of loyalty, commitment, and stability make it work. Tamper with these, and the results are horrible to behold. No civilization ever survived without them. None ever will. Both had a lifelong appreciation of nature’s beauties and power. Cicero uses the word amenity to express it, and found looking for streams and solitude his best relaxation. In a letter to Quirites he wrote: “How great is the beauty of Italy! How renowned are its country towns! How varied its scenery! What lands, what crops are there?” Soul Mates: Cicero and Jefferson 41 Similar passages are found in Jefferson’s writings. Neither time nor space can separate kindred spirits who seek solutions of life’s knotty problems. Two figures are in important ways bonded: Cicero and Thomas Jefferson. The bond was permanent. Agrarian patriots, they believed ideas are universal and should spread freely around the globe for the moral instruction and improvement of mankind. Jefferson’s writings bear no direct references to Cicero; we know he admired Roman law and justice, and how many of these ideas affected our Founding Fathers. Both Jefferson and Cicero entered politics, and were successful in early life. Later they became disillusioned with political intrigue and retired to the country. When Jeffer- son was buried at Monticello, he didn’t mention on his tombstone that he had been president of the United States. Jefferson’s skill and fame as a politician, author, vintner, democrat, philosopher, educator, inventor, and architect are well known. But that only begins the list. He was also fascinated with cryptography, stargazing, clocks, animal fossils (he discovered a new species of di- nosaur which was named after him), medicine, folklore, farming, and horticulture. The very best that Jefferson would build was erected closer to home, where he could sit on his front porch at Monticello and watch through his spyglass as the bricks were put into place. Having retired from many years of public service, he learned in 1817 that his plans for a state university had been approved. The Uni- versity of Virginia, which he designed and developed, was a permanent legacy. He set out to create an academic village around a central square, where all might mingle in intellectual companionship. The design featured a central axis of lawn, formed by two parallel rows of professors’ pavilions with connecting student quarters, and a green circular library closing the upper end. Paralleling this lawn and its pavilions were smaller ranges of student quarters for dining. Cicero’s landmarks in Rome were his models: the Pantheon, Dio- cletian’s baths, the Theater of Marcellus, and the temple of Cori. Jefferson’s insistence on favoring workers rather than the aristocracy brought his theory of social control into conformity with the rev- olutionary situation. Europeans, in re-evaluating the contributions of a nation suddenly thrust into world leadership, have found few Amer- icans so worthy of study and analysis as the master of Monticello. In the dark days of World War II the United States chose him as the sym- 42 CICERO, CLASSICISM, AND POPULAR CULTURE bol of their endangered democracy, and drew from his faith and vision. The national government gave him a marble shrine not far from those of America’s two earlier ones. All three of these tributes were designed more wisely than many politicians knew. The Washington Monument is the earliest and loftiest, the most abstract and Olympian. There is no human resemblance, only the white marble shaft soaring upward. The Lincoln Memorial is the most dra- matic and popular. Inside sits the figure of a tall brooding man. His face is wrinkled from trying to solve problems for which there are few solutions. Patiently he waits, day and night, for the sound of battle and rebellion to subside. The Jefferson Memorial is dome-shaped and classical, symmetri- cal and deceptively simple. April surrounds it with green grass and pink cherry blossoms. Inside stands the erect figure of a bold uncom- promising man, alertly watching lest some new tyranny over the human mind go unnoticed. His soul mate Cicero may be watching close by. LogosLogos

In the beginning was the Word.

Gospel of John, I:1

A single term best describes Cicero and his work—logos, from Greek, meaning speech, word, or reason. In ancient Greek philosophy, which Cicero mastered, logos was the controlling principle of the universe. In the beginning, writes the Greek apostle and disciple John, was the logos, the word. We must concentrate on logos in our search for Cicero. All his life he was a wordmonger. Cicero made words, essays, and orations. Words gave him immortality, but were so sharp they also got him murdered. Logos had a workable partner, another Greek word, rhetoric, the art of oratory, of speaking and writing effectively, the study of rules and principles made by ancient critics. They provided both theory and practice for Rome’s greatest orator. The Greek root of rhetoric is eiro—“I say”—and rhetor means orator. For many centuries history, poetry, and drama were all heard as oral discourse, and shaped by the rhetorical theory of the time. Inven- tion, arrangement, style, delivery, and memory were all involved and still are.1 Aristotle defined rhetoric as the faculty of finding the available means of persuasion. The Greeks recognized the latent power in an advocate who, through logical and emotional appeals and the manip- ulation of language and symbols, could influence public opinion. In the fifth century BC, Gorgias (483-378 BC) asked, what is there greater than the word which persuades? H. I. Marrou is correct when he says “Hellenistic culture was above all things a rhetorical culture”;2 for over two thousand years rhetoric held a central place in humanistic education.

Cicero, Classicism, and Popular Culture © 2007 by The Haworth Press, Inc. All rights reserved. doi:10.1300/5333_06 43 44 CICERO, CLASSICISM, AND POPULAR CULTURE Early Roman education emphasized rhetoric, which formed one of the seven liberal arts in medieval European universities. The trivium consisted of grammar (to teach to speak correctly), logic (to teach to speak consistently), and rhetoric (to teach to speak effectively). His mastery and modification of Greek oratory made Cicero the godfather of popular culture. How did he do this? He brought rhetoric down to earth, took it out of the academy and into the Forum. Call this his pragmatism. He knew, as had many Greeks before him, that logos is not phusis—nature; language cannot be a true substitute for experience. Nature as such has no meaning; men and women must learn to “read” or interpret what is “out there,” using what is “in here.” What is our best way of transmitting discoveries to neighbors and off- spring? Logos. Yet there is something dangerous in this. How can we avoid the subconscious belief (since words are so clever at conveying information and arousing emotions) that language is a substitute for experience? Cicero was more than merely Roman; part and product of a vital mix, going back to the Etruscans and Greeks and beyond to the Egyp- tians, nomad-barbarians—a world of art and astrology, circus and senate, sand and sun, dedication and decadence. He was shaped by, and helped to shape, the greatest structure of imperial government and empire the world has ever known. His goal was related to that mix and empire. From it he extracted universal laws, goals, and formulas that would serve not only his time, but any time, any empire. His books on The Orator are artistic masterpieces and present his ideas about logos, rhetoric, and oratory in clear form. In studying them we begin to see how Rome functioned and became a civilizing force. They also confirm and verify the role of the humanities and liberal arts in the world. The word oratory means little or nothing to most people today. It’s seldom in schools or colleges, and is mainly used for pompous speeches by politicians. Not so with the Romans. Oratory dealt with how to govern, how to control, how to master many different people with minimum force and persuasion. It was the grease that made the wheels of state turn. The master of the subject was Marcus Tullius Cicero. What are the qualities of a great orator? Cicero lists them: the subtlety of the logician, thoughts of the philosopher, diction of the poet, memory of the lawyer, voice of the tragedian, and caring of the actor. Logos 45 These attributes must be clearly stamped on the speaker himself. They can’t be transferred or imitated. He laid great stress on delivery, discussion, arm gestures, facial expression, voice production, and ways to avoid monotony. He regarded memory as a universal treasure that should be given safekeep- ing at all costs. Oratory is the highest expression of human dignity. He raised basic questions. What should a statesman who wanted to rule Rome know? How should he act? How could oratory obtain the same unity, symmetry, proportion, and harmony that governed archi- tecture and sculpture? How could Greek ideas be incorporated into Rome? With such questions he brought new life into the Roman Republic. He was one of history’s great popularizers, knowing (as does anyone who studies culture) that being simple was never simple; that being widely understood was the highest achievement; that whatever people may remember, who said or wrote something is of secondary importance. What sort of craftsman was Cicero? Did he extemporize? How close were his spoken words to the written ones? The tantalizing thing is that we do not have good answers to these questions and never shall. “All the king’s horses and all the king’s men couldn’t put Humpty together again.” We can never hear the voice, see the original text, watch the performance itself. All we can do—and have done—is examine every clue, test every theory, string together every hint, and make an educated guess. Ciceronian devices and patterns helped create expressive, compact prose with harmony and counterpoint. Cicero’s genius at subordinat- ing clauses and ideas resulted in intricacy and delicacy. With him, the question mark and exclamation point came to be powerful weapons. As scholars who have concentrated on rhetoric (such as H. I. Marrou, G. C. Richards, and K. Hvidtfelt Nielsen) point out, Cicero valued style and craft, and worked to achieve them. He urged young orators to read their words aloud; to cut rather than add words, to speak clearly and then sit down. Orators face three tests: proving, charming, and moving. Strive for perfection, which means variety applied with vigor and decorum. These books present one of the great speakers of all times telling us how to excel, depending not only on influence but on talent and integ- rity. How important were oratory and rhetoric to Cicero? We know he 46 CICERO, CLASSICISM, AND POPULAR CULTURE spent much of his life studying, practicing, and writing. Here are the books he completed on the subjects between 84 and 44 BC, ap- proaching the last year of his life:

c. 84 BC On Invention (Rhetorica) 55 BC On the Orator, I-III c. 53 BC The Divisions of Oratory 52 BC On the Best Kind of Orators (fragment) 46 BC Brutus: On Famous Orators The Orator: To Marcus Brutus 44 BC Topica: To Gaius Trebatius (Methods of Drawing Conclusions)

To his friend Atticus, in an informal and whimsical mood, Cicero admitted that he didn’t always fulfill all his own requirements, and that other orators weren’t easily reformed. “What is sillier than to talk about talking?” (Nam quid est ineptius quam de dicendo dicere ...? [De Oratore, XXIV, 112]) Everyone likes to decorate speeches. Cicero makes a frank admission:

Ye gods, how I showed off! You know how I can thunder! This time it was so loud I expect you heard me all the way to where you are!3

For many centuries rhetorical skill was highly prized in the world, cultivated by leaders, humanists, and scholars. Cicero was the mentor. On the contemporary scene, where language is not so much con- structed as deconstructed and we are told no word means the same thing twice, many old standards have been removed. Who is speaking—the speaker, the speechwriter, or the party committee? Who can find the line between the text and the interpreter? Most speeches are not newly created but canned. No wonder we tend to ignore them and tune out. Within the field of literary theory and criticism, rhetoric has become a fashionable catchword. Although not everything that bears and boasts the name of rhetoric seems equally familiar with the finer details of this ancient discipline, there is no longer any need for critics to excuse or motivate their occupation with oratory—except in order to prevent their work from being identified as yet another contribu- tion to the mere inflation of the word. Logos 47 The rhetoric of Cicero is a school or doctrine, teaching whoever uses speech how to verbally behave, and what to think of performances. It implies a view of man and speech that differs from that or those philosophy accepts and promulgates, and so from what is openly assumed to be the underlying practices of critical and scholarly usage. When academic philosophy and semantics took over, oratory and rhetoric were pushed out of the window. What a great loss.4 Many Romans were skillful with two different weapons: swords and words. Both of them can make or break empires. Both can motivate and inspire entire civilizations. Expanding the meaning of logos, we can ask from its early founding and its long history. From its traditional founding in 753 BC to its capture by the Goths in 410 AD—well over a thousand years later—Rome created a republic, followed by a principate that produced two figures who proved to be the educators of Europe, Cicero and Virgil. Rome also amassed an empire that provided the structure of law and government first for Europe, and eventually much of the world. Roman civilization made possible the spread of Christianity. The machinery of the empire set the stage for modernity. Rome conquered the world three times: with her armies, her religion, and her laws. Roman law fueled the revival of learning and the Renaissance—that great movement which marks the beginnings of modern times. The oldest educational institution in the modern world is the law school.5 To study law—Roman law—was the chief purpose for which medieval universities were founded. The first European university—Bologna—began with a law school, to which other fac- ulties were subsequently added. Wherever Roman law was revived, universities with law schools sprang up. Many of our fundamental principles of the useful, mechanical, or industrial arts are of Roman origin. This claim is made, even though the Roman world was unaware of the use of the giant forces of nature (steam, electricity, air), which civilization has harnessed to do its bid- ding in innumerable ways, through the stupendous growth of mechanical inventions. Logos has continued to undergird progress. Where are today’s Ciceros when we need them? Where are the schools or universities that will teach our leaders and politicians how to say what they mean, and mean what they say? To make rhetoric more important than statistics? Now we have blank faces and talking 48 CICERO, CLASSICISM, AND POPULAR CULTURE heads, reading from ill-prepared scripts, mangling words and obscur- ing the truth. Rhetoric is a precious tool of freedom, not the monstrous gobble- de-gook we have made it today, with no style, little substance. Cicero gave us not classical clichés but a memorable example of live language, even more alive—thanks to his well-concealed art—than the worn-out patterns of everyday speech. For coming generations, a study of Cicero’s style might prove a helpful way of returning oratory and rhetoric to the place of honor they once held. CiceroCicero and and Community

Upon equal ground, that they were brothers all In honour as in one community . . . There is one great society alone on earth: The noble Living and the noble Dead.

William Wordsworth, “The Prelude”

Cicero said it, and lived it, long before Wordsworth. We are “all in community,” all humans facing the same problems and battles. What we face is a common core, once superficial differences are removed. We bring nothing into the world and we take nothing from it. Why not find ways to live well and free when and while we can? No easy task, as Cicero’s life demonstrated. But it was his vision, his dream, his legacy. All religions give us versions of such a dream. Searching for Cicero has given me a new understanding not only of him, but of Rome, and Western culture. The Greeks, to whom so much homage is paid, had no word for “culture.” The Romans not only coined the word, they turned it into a commodity, exporting it to their vast empire, and through the time tunnel, to subsequent ages. Cicero played a crucial role. The insights of the Greeks (especially in philosophy and cosmology) had to be brought over; we had to bridge Greek and Latin thought. That was Cicero’s role. Long before the Christians had their popes, he was the pontis maximus (chief-bridge- builder). What Cicero wished to discover, and what we still seek, is a shared culture. The task is exceedingly hard, if not impossible. Words in general, slang in particular, have multiple contradictory meanings; layers of connotations. The very origin of “common” is disputed. The force and intent are apparent. Things are common when bound together, widely shared, and significant. Cicero worked for and spoke for the joint and united. He wrote and thought as one belonging to all mankind; longed to share the common Cicero, Classicism, and Popular Culture © 2007 by The Haworth Press, Inc. All rights reserved. doi:10.1300/5333_07 49 50 CICERO, CLASSICISM, AND POPULAR CULTURE light. Writing of friendships, duties, and death—three of his most ef- fective areas—he did share that light. “All who are included in a community,” wrote St. Thomas, “stand in relation to that community as parts of the whole.” Arnold Toynbee restated the idea in contemporary terms: The true hallmark of the pro- letarian is neither poverty nor humble birth, but a consciousness of being disinherited from his ancestral place; being unwanted in a community, which is his rightful home. Realizing this, institutions and governments strive to “create” community. It cannot be done by committee meetings, publications, or official decrees. Only when there is a deep dedication to ideals will community grow; then its radiance will shine forth with blinding light. True community respects the individual and his own capacity and history; it is immediate and real. False community centers on groups and ideologies; it is remote and artificial. Cicero symbolizes true community. He spoke, wrote, and pleaded for it. When he saw it endangered, he cried out—and died for it. Cicero has so infiltrated our literature and lore that we have no way of measuring his impact. It has often been on people who never heard his name or read his works. Since little is recorded in oral cultures, and most people throughout history have been illiterate, we know little about the people whom Cicero passed en route to the Forum; or about most people in most streets from his day to ours. As an elite writer and critic, Cicero had measurable influence on the academy. What about his influence on everybody else? How does he rate as a popularizer? The case of Cicero raises the difficult question about how influence is transmitted and measured. Histories of civilization and ideas concentrate on tiny groups—thinkers, artists, politicians; they can be easily studied. Most people are rarely heard of—minorities and workers, soldiers and peasants, the mob. Popular revolutions bring them briefly on history’s stage; then they are ignored. Are these largely inarticulate people affected by the elite? If so, how? Do they have a changing history, or are they a mindless constant, a lumpen proleteriat? Such questions go beyond books, beyond the idea of culture to the reality of community. A community is a social group, of any size or shape, who live together, sharing a common heritage. Such congeal- ing is part of our nature: we, both Aristotle and Cicero pointed out, Cicero and Community 51 are social animals. We do not come together just to do things, but to be together. The rupture or breakdown of community sounds the death knell of culture, and finally of humanity itself. Loneliness and alienation have been major themes in literature, drama, and art. The subject of Eu- gene Ionesco’s The Chairs, a highly acclaimed play at mid-twentieth century, was the absence of people, the absence of the emperor, the absence of God, the absence of matter, unreality of world, metaphysi- cal emptiness. The theme was nothingness. When community goes, language itself falters. Here is a passage from The Chairs:

OLD MAN: Where’s my mamma? I don’t have a mamma anymore. OLD WOMAN: I am your wife. I’m the one who is your mamma now. OLD MAN: That’s not true. I’m an orphan, hi, hi. OLD WOMAN: My pet, my orphan, dworfan, worfan, morphan, orphan.1

We are in the Zero World, where nothing can be taken for granted. We have lost community. This is a “high culture” idea, by an elite (and at times baffling) playwright. Other areas and classes will have, or yearn for, community. Times change. So do words. Some unknown to classical times became current later. Jean Jacques Rousseau championed the general will, Edmund Burke emphasized the term commonwealth. “Individu- als pass like shadows,” he said in a 1783 speech, “but the commonwealth is fixed and stable.” Seeking peace and unity, Christian apologists over the ages invoke the holy spirit. Woodrow Wilson championed the League of Nations. Today we support the United Nations. The hope never dies. “We are brothers all,” William Wordsworth wrote in The Prelude, “as in one community.” These terms, words, and thoughts have a Ciceronian ring. His was a noble dream unfulfilled. The search for community is an endless task. Thinking of community, then and now, one is struck with how the problems and prospects in ancient Rome parallel those in modern America. We seem to lack common denominators and ways to bring structure and meaning into everyday life and thus into communal fo- 52 CICERO, CLASSICISM, AND POPULAR CULTURE cus. The gap between rich and poor, haves and have-nots, grows; free handouts and bread and circuses won’t close it. The crowd roared as their gladiators bled and died then (our athletes clash and bash each other now) so that there can be winners. The games ends, the crowd goes back into the streets, and tedium, not community, takes over. Has what Cicero called vox populi, and we label mass culture, actually degenerated into an industry to process, package, and distribute violent and compelling images and sensations? As we got more and better technology over the centuries, did we leave less and less to in- dividuals and the imagination? Have we moved from progress to perplexity? The rate of accelera- tion is obvious. The speed of a message from the voice to the ear is 1,130 feet per second. In his book The Responsive Chord, Tony Schwartz writes: “The world is electronically fractured, recorded, transmitted, received, and reassembled in the human brain. The Now generation is thus a product of the Now perception.”2 Lack of community is a constant theme among American scholars and novelists. Sociologist Robert Bellah and colleagues published Habits of the Heart: Individualism and Commitment in American Life (1996), which spoke to the discontents of modern American culture. Bellah and his colleagues noted a widespread feeling that the promise of the modern world was slipping away from us. Kai Erikson wrote about a community in West Virginia that was destroyed by a flood, and documented the ways in which the absence of community support destroyed traditional values and individual lives (Everything in Its Path, 1976). A pollster, Daniel Yankelovich, described a culture in which choices available to affluent Americans had multiplied, but which offered little guidance as to which choices might actually lead to a satisfying life (New Rules: Searching for Self-Fulfillment in a World Turned Upside Down, 1982). All these studies pointed to the fact that Americans, as they neared the end of the twentieth century, were paying a heavy price for the affluence which made safe enclaves possible but vitiated the ties that nurtured genuine individualism. In- dividualism, it seemed, flourished only when supported by genuine communities.3 Cicero had made the same point in the faltering Ro- man Republic. Recent American elections, including those in 2004, indicate our complex society includes a large number of unhappy people. Who are Cicero and Community 53 these unhappy campers and why are they so unhappy? What does their unhappiness portend for the future? In 2005 many other issues pushed community to the back burner. Concern with gender, race, class, and ethnicity ignores the fact that all are related to community, or lack of it. Those who do not have the sense of community that makes nationhood possible, and are unable to feel that their lives have made a difference to their communities, will end by experiencing a feeling of deep despair. That despair, in turn, will destroy the trust of the younger generation. If prolonged, it will destroy the fabric of our society. The critical issue for the United States in the twenty-first century is whether it can find ways to establish and/or renew communities that nurture and sustain a communal life and a healthy individualism. It will not be easy. As Parker J. Palmer says in The Company of Strang- ers (1981), we lack community. We have all but lost the vision of the public. More than ever we need the process of public life to renew our sense of belonging to one another.4 We must cherish and develop what Gottfried von Herder (1744- 1803) labeled Volksgeist, the spirit of the people. It comes from tradition, history, environment, and the times (Zeitgeist).5 Cicero understood this, and so do we. A major task in our new millennium is to re- vive and expand community. TwoTwo Pivotal Pivotal Essays Essays

The crown of these Is made of love and friendship and sits high Upon the forehead of humanity. John Keats “Endymion: Book I”

Two short informal essays by Cicero have received near universal attention and praise. They are On Friendship (De Amicitia) and On Old Age (De Senectute). The first deals with a universal need, the second with an inevitable condition. They are presented in dialogue form, which Cicero adopted from Plato and made his own. They make for easy reading and quoting. Coming from both his head and his heart, both have always been popular in the best sense of that word. Dante said Cicero’s On Friendship was his chief philosophical guide.

ON FRIENDSHIP

On Friendship, both tender and warm, is less formal and oratorical than his main writings. He intends to make the reader relaxed and comforted. It was written while Cicero was in Tusculum and was dedicated to his best friend, Atticus. This gives it a special authenticity. It presents friendship as a universal need, fostering a community of feeling. Everyone needs it, especially the aged. Friendship eases the pain of death. Not easily attained or maintained, friendship is only possible between good people; it can never be based on the repaying of favors, or desire to pay tit for tat. Instead, friendship must meet actual facts of everyday life. Life isn’t worth living without the mutual goodwill of friends. Cicero, Classicism, and Popular Culture © 2007 by The Haworth Press, Inc. All rights reserved. doi:10.1300/5333_08 55 56 CICERO, CLASSICISM, AND POPULAR CULTURE This essay needs to be quoted; this pithy epigrammatic material cannot be summarized. How does he define friendship, why is it important, and what can damage or destroy it? We get short cryptic answers that set our minds to work. Here are some examples from On Friendship. Who could phrase them as well? They are truly Ciceronian:

Friendship is a community of feeling. It can’t be forced, bought, or disguised. Everyone needs it—especially the aged. It fills the void and eases the pain of death. Life isn’t worth living without the mutual goodwill of friends. It serves many different purposes at the same time. Go where you will, it still remains yours. Real friendship is more potent than kinship. We inherit kin, but we choose friends. We need friendship as much as bread and water. Authentic friendship is permanent, filling us with bright rays of hope. Even death does not end it. We dream of friends. What can damage or destroy friendship? Envy, deceit, greed for money. You can’t be friends if you wallow in self-indulgence. We must put our friends first. Friends can agree to disagree, and ride out tough periods. No one can afford to lose friends so we must be tolerant.

If he had few friends, he had two of enormous importance. The first was Titus Pomponius Atticus (109-32 BC), Cicero’s best friend, whose hundreds of letters to and from Cicero are crucial. Born into a wealthy Roman family, Atticus had powerful political enemies and was forced to leave Rome and settle in Athens. Later on his Greek knowledge and bonding were central to his Ciceronian friendship. While in exile, Atticus’s considerable fortune grew. He lent money on interest, hired skilled copyists, and became a successful publisher. He himself was a skilled writer, who did genealogical studies of Ro- man families. Affectionate and affable, he cultivated politicians and leaders. Back in Italy, he served as a political go-between who knew how to keep his mouth shut. He liked to work behind the scenes and to Two Pivotal Essays 57 keep notes.1 Atticus took pains to support charities, befriend the populares, and develop the common touch. All this attracted Cicero. They became close trusted friends, who constantly exchanged personal visits and letters. In exile in his latter years, writing Self-Consolation, one of his most admired works which alas has been lost, Cicero promised a copy to Atticus and cor- responded with him daily. We can read the letters today. Like everyone else, I am deeply in Atticus’s debt. Atticus suppressed most of his own letters; but from the few that remain we know he had an easy style. A student and a scholar, he often used Greek expressions and was fascinated with Roman history and genealogy. His devotion to Cicero was proverbial, and of enormous value to posterity. While many give credit to Atticus for befriending Cicero, fewer give credit to Tiro, originally Cicero’s slave. He perfected the first shorthand system of which we have knowledge. Whether he or Cicero devised the system, or whether it predated both of them, is disputed. What is clear is that Tiro preserved many of Cicero’s speeches, that Cicero granted him his freedom, and that he became both Ci- cero’s secretary and his friend. Tiro alone could decipher Cicero’s scribblings, which other copyists couldn’t read. Although Tiro’s health was feeble, he lived a very long life (perhaps 100 years), devoting himself in his later years to collecting and revising the works of his old master and friend. It was largely through Tiro’s unwearying efforts that the entire correspondence of Cicero is preserved to us in all its beauty and freshness. Tiro’s shorthand system seems to have been tachygraphic. Each word was represented by a character alphabetic in order, having an ideographic value. Tiro’s shorthand notes have come down to us. The stenographers of Rome were not any more infallible than their modern descendants; but it was far more dangerous for Roman stenographers to indulge in mistakes. Witness a certain unhappy notary of Severus who was punished for some inaccuracy by causing the sin- ews of the fingers of his right hand to be cut.2 We can be thankful that Tiro worked with Cicero, not Severus, helping to preserve much of Cicero’s work for posterity. Friendship triumphed. 58 CICERO, CLASSICISM, AND POPULAR CULTURE ON OLD AGE

Cicero gives one an appetite for growing old.

Michel de Montaigne

Written in 44 BC, one year before his death, dedicated to Cicero’s friend Atticus, this essay has spoken to generation after generation. Cicero draws from several earlier Greek writers, such as Aristo of Ceos and Theophrastus. The tone and outlook, however, are Roman. The imaginary setting is Rome in 150 BC. Cato, who is eighty-four, is resting on his considerable laurels as a soldier, farmer, statesman, and orator. Like Cicero himself, Cato is a New Man, defender of the republic to which Cicero devoted his energies and his life. The conversation describes a thriving culture. It also mirrors Cicero’s later struggle to preserve a vanishing republic as dictators prepare to take over. The tone is not primarily political, but philosophical and worldly-wise. Cato becomes the voice of Cicero himself. The essay contains separate sections on Cato and his friends, activities for the old, consolation for lost friends (Cicero’s beloved daughter Tullia had just died when he wrote this), the pleasures of aging, the joys of farming, hon- ors and fault, death’s stings, and the afterlife. White hair and wrinkles, Cicero reminds us, don’t diminish one’s wits and authority, which come from well-spent earlier years. The old lose their sense of lust, which drives people to every sin and crime under the sun. No banquets, overfed feasts, overflowing cups in old age. Loss of memory? Perhaps. Still Cato never heard of old persons who forgot where their money was buried. The aging remember what interests them, and always know the names of their debtors and credi- tors. Old age, however, does not remove concern about money, debts, and survival. We live in a society obsessed with youth and physical strength. Is not a football, basketball, or hockey game, or a grueling accident- prone afternoon at NASCAR, a kind of warfare? Gladiators fighting muscle versus muscle, with stretchers on the sidelines to carry off ca- sualties? Are not most who don’t become gladiators still obsessed with exercise? Push-ups? Exercise clubs? Cato (speaking through Cicero) comments on this. His exercise is intellectual, stretching his brain, not biceps. This is his running track. Two Pivotal Essays 59 While he sweats and toils on it, he doesn’t miss the old body exer- cises. He has his reading couch on which he lies and thinks of activities that lie ahead. He still enjoys the busy world outside, and meets and helps younger friends. This taxes his strength of mind and memory, which remain strong. He grows old slowly, imperceptibly. He does not miss the “good times” of youth. Having no tables piled high, no cups to be filled, Cato avoids drunkenness, indigestion, and sleepless nights. Every new day is a dawning, and another chance at conversation and writing, both of which are more precious than much fine gold. “Ah yes, I remember it well!” “That was our finest hour!” So we can be grateful, not depressed, by old age. When death comes, we can be ready for it, seeing it as part of life. Cicero’s belief that death is part of life has been often applauded and endorsed throughout the centuries. It fascinated the philosopher Seneca, for example, who lived from 4 BC to AD 65. A dedicated student of Cicero, he believed that both young and old should face death calmly. No one is so old that he or she can’t hope for one more day. So every day must be ordered as if it were the last, and a preparation for death. Old age should be welcomed. The part of his essay that helps me most comes in his defense of growing old, and insistence that we must stay young not only in body but in spirit. Let me conclude by summarizing his thinking. The old have what the young can never attain until they too grow old: wisdom and experience. Great deeds are not achieved merely by strength or speed; they spring from thought and character. What makes a judge is judgment. Instead of being sluggish and feeble, old age can be lively and perpetually active—if you never stop learning. One must use what he has, and be grateful for having it. Beware of illusions—images of what life might be, not what it is. Illusions mul- tiply like cancer cells. Once out of control, one may never get back to normal. We all must deal with the cloud of uncertainty that never leaves us. What could be more agreeable than old age, surrounded by people in their prime? Yes, your body may whither and your eyes and ears fal- ter. Still you can keep your mind as taut as when you were young. Age is respected when it fights for itself. Add two things to your life: a touch of youth and a hop in your walk. That, more than any single thought, sums up Cicero on old age. 60 CICERO, CLASSICISM, AND POPULAR CULTURE If you read the essays and letters of the philosopher Seneca (4 BC- AD 65), you will find thoughts on old age, friendship, and other topics that sound very Ciceronian. Here are some examples:

Never trust a man you do not trust as fully as yourself. Trusting everyone and trusting no one are both wrong. The easygoing man should act, and the active man should take it easy. Consult Nature, who created both day and night.

Welcome old age as a part of life. How sweet it is to have outworn desires and have left them behind! Young and old should have death before their eyes. Old age is a blessing, not a curse. How many people in our frantic circle, where everything is wired and buzzing, can say that? And what a blessing that these two pivotal essays have come down to us intact, to inspire and console us. ReputationReputation

The purest treasure mortal times afford Is spotless reputation.

William Shakespeare, King Richard II

Reputations are like the weather. They change quickly and without warning. They must fit the temper of the times, and pay the consequences. So it has been with Cicero. Because of who and where he was, Cicero knew that his reputation mattered. When he was a young man studying in Greece, he con- sulted the oracle at Delphi, asking how he should best attain both a fine reputation and glory. “By making your program, following your own gifts, and not the opinion of the fickle public,” the Pythoness an- swered. The young Cicero didn’t heed the advice. The mature Cicero did, and faced the consequences. Now his reputation is secure. During his life he drew the highest praise and provided the strongest incentive. His judgment and motives were often questioned. General consensus deemed him honest, truthful, and devoted to Rome and the Republic. That he was an orator and writer of the highest caliber no one could challenge. His secret weapon was not his dagger but his tongue. His reputation as a wit was unassailable. Caesar knew this, and ordered that his witticisms be sent to him in Gaul. His skill in punning was also unquestioned; Cicero was always ready with the repartee. When he spoke, people listened. Cicero’s reputation fluctuates but his influence is continuous. It saturates the thinking of century after century. Often he is praised, sometimes condemned. One of the strongest voices has been the Ro- man Catholic Church. His style has dominated the language in Vati- can diplomacy for centuries. Cardinal Bembo (1470-1547) rejected as “un-Ciceronian” not only the choice of words, but even the precise

Cicero, Classicism, and Popular Culture © 2007 by The Haworth Press, Inc. All rights reserved. doi:10.1300/5333_09 61 62 CICERO, CLASSICISM, AND POPULAR CULTURE vocabulary, word order, and cadences that could not be found verba- tim in Cicero’s works. Protestants could be as Ciceronian as Catholics. The famous Philipp Melanchthon of Wittenberg, professor and theologian, and a key leader of the Lutheran Reformation, devoted his Latin courses to Cicero. They became standard guidelines throughout Europe. Later on, Napoleon took titles such as consul, senate, and tribune from Cicero. In the United States, one can hear echoes of Cicero in many speeches. Good examples are Abraham Lincoln’s speeches, especially in the famous 1863 Gettysburg Address. Cicero dominates the prose of the late Republic with his fifty-eight speeches, seven works on oratory, twenty of philosophy, and hundreds of letters. Varro (116-27 BC) wrote more (fifty-five titles, including Disciplinae, a Latin encyclopedia) but most of Varro is lost. Cicero survived because of his incomparable mastery of the Latin language. Persuasive in his speeches, lucid in his philosophy, grace- ful in his letters, he made Latin prose a great instrument of thought and expression. It became the chosen model for the Renaissance, and eventually for writers and nations around the world. No wonder he was known in Rome as the greatest voice of the age. Cicero has proven to be a man of all seasons for all reasons. This was true while he lived, and true since he died. His influence and talent were so obvious that even his most bitter enemies could not deny them. His shortcomings, just as discernible, are listed by Cicero himself. He knows his faults; they are laid out before us. To many, this kind of honesty is one of his winning and admirable traits. Books have been written about Cicero’s ups and downs. A sum- mary of these fluctuations shows that one can be popular as a dissi- dent as well as master of the Latin language. Over the years leaders and writers always have detractors as well as admirers. Cicero was vain, vacillating, and did not always live up to the high standards he set. He did not deny this. Some have chosen to dwell on these faults. His most famous detractor might have been Theodor Mommsen (1817-1903), German classical historian and scholar in jurispru- dence. His monumental three-volume Römische Geschichte (1854- 1856) won high praise. It was translated into English as The History of Rome. In this and other works, he was critical of Cicero, Pompey, and Cato. Leader of the liberal left-wing session, Mommsen found Reputation 63 Cicero far too conservative. Mommsen’s hero was Julius Caesar, whom he portrayed as a brilliant general, leader, and thinker. In his History of Rome Mommsen calls the Roman Republic an old world, full of pomp and glory, but little spirit. He continues:

Even the richly-gifted patriotism of Caesar could not make it young again. The dawn does not return till after the night has... run its course. With him there came a tolerable evening after the sultry noon; and when...thenewdaydawned once more . . . and fresh nations in free self-movement commenced their race towards new and higher goals, there were found among them [those] ...inwhich the seed sown by Caesar had sprung up, and which owed, as they still owe, to him their national individual- ity.1

Many feel that the credit Mommsen gives to Caesar belongs to Cicero. Is Cicero still relevant in the twenty-first century? Has he deserted us? No. The reverse might be true. Some have deserted him. As long as we lived in the Age of Print, and got most of our information from the printed word, he spoke loud and clear. When we entered the Age of Image, or virtual reality, book culture retreated. Peo- ple learn from electronic screens, such as television, computers, or movies; perception underwent a revolution. Libraries were declared out of date, even at some universities. Images took over. We are too close to this to know just what the long-term results will be. The traditional has given way to the electronic. Folkstyle is being replaced by pop style. What will replace pop? The historian knows that with changes in names and styles those damned in one age might seem divine in another. Consider the trans- formation of Octavian, who later used one of his other names, Augus- tus. He was one of those responsible for Cicero’s murder. His grandson, knowing this, hid a book of Cicero’s when his grandfather approached. Augustus took the book, pored over it, and brought it back to the young boy. “My son,” he said, “Cicero was a learned man and he loved his country.” What does this say about reputations? Cicero’s fame and much classical learning lapsed in the so-called Dark Ages, after the sack of Rome. When the legions vanished, the clerics and monks appeared. No one hurt Cicero’s damaged high rep- 64 CICERO, CLASSICISM, AND POPULAR CULTURE utation and fame more than St. Gregory the Great who was pope from AD 590 to 604. This last of the four great fathers of the Western Church feared that Cicero was reducing the power of the church by his persuasive writing and style. So he suppressed Cicero’s works and ordered people to read only the scriptures. For several centuries, Cicero all but disappeared from favor among the powerful. His reputation lapsed, to be reviewed by Peter Abelard (1079-1142), the School of Chartres, and Petrarch (1304-1374), who led the revival of classical learning. Cicero was acclaimed anew in Europe, where his De Officiis was prescribed reading at Oxford after 1517. He fell from his high pinnacle in the Enlightenment, to neglect in the early nineteenth century. This continued in the first half of the twentieth century, but has given way to new interest and insights in recent decades. A Cicero revival, especially in universities, is under- way. What does that mean in today’s global politics and culture? The mood and outlook of America changed in late decades of the twentieth century. The scowling face of Richard Nixon gave way to the Hollywood smile of Ronald Reagan. The disasters of defeat in the Vietnam War faded at the quick and decisive victory in the Gulf War. What might all of this have to do with the reputation of the highly articulate and patriotic Cicero? No easy answer emerges. What is clear is that Cicero’s reputation also rose quickly in recent years.2 A series of new books bore witness. They include David Thompson’s The Idea of Rome (1971), L. P. Wilkinson’s The Roman Experience (1974), R. H. Barrow’s The Romans (1975), Michael Crawford’s The Roman Republic (1975), Jerome Carcopin’s Daily Life in Ancient Rome (1960), Elizabeth Rawson’s Cicero (1975), W. K. Lacey’s Cicero and the End of the Roman Republic (1978), D. R. Shackleton Bailey’s Cicero’s Letters to His Friends (1978), and Anthony Everitt’s Cicero: The Life and Times of Rome’s Greatest Politician (2001). All these books, and many others, document a re- newed interest in Cicero and his relevance for our new century. We admire and quote Cicero for different reasons. I find him at his unsurpassed best as storyteller and anecdotist, an imaginary conversation with the elder Cato speaking in Rome when he was eighty- four. It glories not in youth but in old age. Cicero wrote On Old Age in 44 BC when he was sixty-two. This famous essay serves as a final piece in his mosaic. Reputation 65 So what then are we searching for? A man, a myth, a link between many different times, places, and epochs? All of these, and much more: the way in which the past influences and changes the present; how a city, Rome, became eternal; and how we all go there as pilgrims, hoping to find new answers to eternal questions.