Books That Fill You With Sudden, Inexplicable Curiosity, Not Easily Justified.
This book so far has been careful to leave open to the Reader who is reading the possibility of identifying himself with the Reader who is read.
Italo Calvino, If on a Winter’s Night a Traveler
IN CHAPTERS 3 AND 4, I analyzed aspects of Cicero’s negotiations with his audience that were conducted in fairly explicit terms and addressed head-on his readers’ potential discomforts with his philosophical undertaking. This chapter will focus on the rhetorical work that takes place, as it were, behind the scenes, in the literary forms, quotations, and allusions that are also integral to the prefaces.1 All these features have their sources in the Roman tradition, understood most broadly, be they traditional modes of elite interaction or texts that had already by Cicero’s day achieved the status of classics. Far from being simply ornamental trim, a literary veneer clumsily tacked on to the real philosophical body of the work, these more integrated rhetorical moves do as much to manage the author-reader relationship as the more overt tactics I have already discussed. Put most generally, their goal is, by inscribing the project firmly within traditional social and cultural structures, to mitigate the problematic nature of what Cicero is doing in introducing philosophy as a substitute for public life. However, given the marginal status of philosophical discourse in Roman society, this is a difficult task and one that, if it is to have any chance of success, requires an audience open to the author’s influence and willing to accept his self-presentation at face value—that is, the kind of audience that no writer can count on having. But, setting aside the question of the real reactions of real historical readers,2 what is most relevant to my topic here is the author’s construction of an ideal reader, one who will respond to his every rhetorical shift in exactly the way he intends. Positing such a hypothetic reader is in itself a rhetorical device designed to influence the reactions of real readers.3 As we will see, it sheds more light on Cicero’s complex self-representation in the prefaces. An analysis of the hidden strategies Cicero employs to influence his reader’s response will reveal as well what structures and ideas he expects to be sufficiently powerful to overcome the inherent difficulties caused by the ambiguity of his position and goals.
Of course, a specific ideal reader is written into all the dedicated treatises: it is the dedicatee, and the work is always presented in relation to him. But the very fact that the dedication, though often written in epistolary form to a single addressee, is included with the text of the treatises, suggests that it has a role to play in establishing the relationship between the author and the anonymous reader.4 The evidence of the Topica supports this conclusion: in addition to the dedication, a personal letter has survived that Cicero sent to present the work to the dedicatee (Fam. 7.19; SB 334).5 This letter is not included in the text of the treatise. While the dedication must be included in the text for it to be able to perform its function, the abundance of personal detail in the preface to the Topica cannot be justified on these grounds alone. At the same time, the level of detail also excludes a simple nod to the dedicatee as the only motivation. The function of the dedicatory preface, therefore, is in fact, through the dedicatee, to communicate with the anonymous reader.6 That invites a question. Why not address the reader directly? What is the advantage of approaching him through, as it were, a dummy addressee? Part of the answer lies in the author’s relationship to his work: Cicero does not believe that his claims can be presented at face value to a neutral audience. As the repeated self-justificatory passages demonstrate, he anticipates resistance and stands in need of the readers’ indulgence. As part of an attempt to secure it, he uses the preface-dedication to construct a scenario in which the ideal reader, the reader who picks up on all the authorial cues and follows them faithfully, is at the end of the preface obligated to be favorable to the work. In doing so he draws on a Roman social institution that readily provides the appropriate framework of obligation and favorable response, the institution of amicitia.7
There is no scholarly consensus on the precise meaning of amicitia. Many want to see it primarily as a formalized social and political institution and deny it the element of emotion that we associate with personal friendships in the modern world.8 Others take a more flexible view that allows amicitia to occupy a larger semantic field, including both the political and personal ends of the spectrum.9 In light of the evidence, which has been mustered convincingly in support of both the more formal and the more emotional view, it seems most productive to adopt the more inclusive model and to see amicitia primarily as a social relationship centered around mutual obligation that can be manifested in different areas of life, that is, on a more personal, intimate level and in the larger public, often political, arena as well.10 The mainstay of the reciprocal obligation that lies at the structural core of amicitia is the fact that partners in this relationship perform beneficia for one another.11 Each beneficium produces gratitude and encourages repayment. Whatever we may think of the emotional content of such associations, it is clear that men who considered each other amici expected mutual services and consideration of one another’s interests to be a constant in the relationship.
Thus, it is easy to see how putting a treatise firmly within the framework of amicitia could be useful for an author whose project required special pleading. By dedicating his writings to his amici, Cicero is performing a beneficium for them.12 A treatise can be explicitly described as a munus and an honor.13 As a beneficium, such a dedication sets up an expectation of a future service in return. But in a more immediate way it demands gratitude on behalf of the dedicatee, and the obvious expression of gratitude to an author would be favor shown to his work.14
Ideally, then, all potential readers would be Cicero’s amici and, in his quest for receptive ears, he would dedicate his treatises to all of them. But a collective dedication does not have such a productive social context to draw on as amicitia provides for the individual dedication. Furthermore, such a diffusion of the beneficium would be counterproductive, as it would lessen the obligation of the receiver.15 If every reader could be put under individual obligation, that would solve the difficulty—but that is more easily accomplished in an oral context, such as canvassing for office, than through a written medium that presents the same face to every consumer. The way Cicero gets around this problem is by dedicating his treatises to actual individual amici, but constructing his prefaces in such a way that the reader is led to identify with the dedicatee and to share his anticipation of a favorable reaction to the work.
An additional advantage of inviting the reader to identify with the dedicatee rather than addressing the reader directly is that this intimate form of address creates a context in which special pleading is more appropriate than it would seem in a preface addressed to the general reader. Cicero can speak from the very beginning in a familiar tone that presupposes indulgence and understanding without seeming presumptuous. Yet that in itself is not sufficient if his intention is to transform the reader from an observer into an addressee. In order to effect this transformation, Cicero presents his relationship with the dedicatee as non-static, in the process of an evolution. In my discussion of the preface to the Topica I will show that Cicero, by beginning the preface with the story of the work’s origin, makes it easy for the reader to identify with the dedicatee. The portrayal of the dynamic between the author and the dedicatee is then developed with a view to building a rapport with the reader along similar lines. The ideal result of this development will be to induce the reader to approach the content of the work from the point of view of an amicus.16
This ambitious result is accomplished not through rhetorical negotiation alone. Apart from providing a convenient framework for establishing a close relationship with the reader, amicitia provided a mode of dissemination for the treatises as well. The role of Cicero’s friends, and Atticus in particular, in circulating his works is well known from references in his correspondence and has been thoroughly studied by scholars.17 A few relevant aspects of this publication process need to be mentioned here. The fact that these works were obtained by readers exclusively through personal connections, which, with varying degrees of remove, ultimately led back to the author, is significant. While most of the readers were probably men not strictly bound to Cicero by a personal bond of amicitia, any one of them could nonetheless see himself as implicated in a broader network of amicitia that did include Cicero. Given the possibility of contact being established between friends of friends within such a network, the personal means of access to the work served to figure the author as a potential amicus. The distance and the degree of anonymity characteristic of other types of reader-author relationship would accordingly diminish, giving way to a kind of familiarity that was not possible in, for example, the newly established book trade that was based on purely economic, socially neutral principles.18 The socially charged nature of this exchange is further reflective of Cicero’s goals for his philosophical project. The project is directed to a very specific and circumscribed segment of the population, the members of the elite, and this mode of circulation between social equals ensures that the works’ audience will be confined to this social group.19 At the same time, on the reader’s end, gaining access to the work through the network of amicitia acts as something of a guarantee to the reader that he is part of the intended audience.20
Success in preparing the reader to encounter the work sympathetically does not rest entirely on the reader’s identification with the dedicatee. In addition to providing a path to readers’ acceptance, the framework of amicitia contributes in yet another significant way to counteracting the problematic nature of Cicero’s project. He regularly tapped into sources of validation for his work that were based outside its content and rooted in tradition.21 That amicitia could serve as one of these sources is not surprising in light of its place among Rome’s most honored social institutions. A work that claims to take its inspiration from, and be a contribution to, this honorable institution partakes of its positive social connotations. A more direct way of legitimizing the treatises is to present them as fully within Roman tradition.22 Cicero takes advantage of this source of authority as well. My discussion of the preface to De Senectute will show how, through literary quotations and allusions, and the use of historical personages as speakers, a preface can connect the author and the work to Rome’s venerable past, both historical and literary.
Given that developing a model of his relationship with the dedicatee is such a significant part of the strategy underlying the prefaces, it will be useful to examine how Cicero accomplishes this in individual prefaces. The following section considers the preface to the Topica, which provides the fullest picture of how Cicero constructs and develops that relationship and showcases some of the rhetorical tools at his disposal.
The Topica begins with a dedication to an old amicus of Cicero’s, a notable jurisprudent, C. Trebatius Testa:23
maiores nos res scribere ingressos, C. Trebati, et his libris, quos brevi tempore satis multos edidimus, digniores e cursu ipso revocavit voluntas tua. cum enim mecum in Tusculano esses et in bibliotheca separatim uterque nostrum ad suum studium libellos quos vellet evolveret, incidisti in Aristotelis Topica quaedam, quae sunt ab illo pluribus libris explicata. qua inscriptione commotus continuo a me librorum eorum sententiam requisisti. (Top. 1)
Although I had entered upon the writing of greater things, Gaius Trebatius, and ones more worthy of these books, sufficiently many of which I produced in a short time, your wish called me away from a work already in progress. For when you were with me in the library in my villa at Tusculum, and each of us, on his own, was unfolding whatever scrolls he pleased according to his personal inclination, you came upon certain Topics of Aristotle, which were expounded by him in many books. And you, stirred up by this title, straightaway asked me about the subject matter of those books.
From the very beginning, the work that we are about to read is set up by Cicero as a product of his personal bond with Trebatius. More than that, it is also presented as a sacrifice, or at least a concession, to this bond. The importance of the content of the treatise is dismissed as insignificant even before the reader finds out what it is. The other project Cicero was working on and interrupted (most likely De Officiis) is presented as more valuable on its own merits: it comprises maiores res, greater things.24 It is also more in keeping with the kinds of things Cicero has been working on and that reflect his own interests at the time. Paradoxically, it is precisely the comparative insignificance of the subject matter of the Topica and its irrelevance to the author at the time of writing that Cicero uses to magnify right at the start the utmost importance of Trebatius’ voluntas, his wish, almost his whim, in the author’s decision to write the Topica.25 Considerations of the objective value of the subject matter and of the author’s personal inclination pale, Cicero wants the reader to believe, next to a friend’s desire.26 He interrupts the important task he had already started (e cursu ipso) to oblige Trebatius. A hierarchy of motivations for undertaking a project is thus constructed, with amicitia at the top.
The rest of the introduction develops and adds to the themes hinted at in the first sentence by presenting a detailed description of the context in which Trebatius’ voluntas was born, became known to Cicero, and gradually grew in importance for both parties. The original context is significant: Trebatius comes across Aristotle’s Topica while the two men are browsing through Cicero’s library during Trebatius’ stay at Cicero’s Tusculan villa. Apart from providing the dramatic setting for their initial interaction on the subject of the Topica, Cicero indirectly gives us important information about his relationship with Trebatius. They are on close enough terms that Trebatius is a guest at Cicero’s country estate. Moreover, while there might have been others staying at the villa at the time, the description makes it seem as if Trebatius was the only guest, thus a very intimate friend. The picture of the two friends casually browsing in the library ad suum studium, as each is inclined, further enhances the impression of their high level of mutual comfort: instead of a host intent on entertaining his guest, we see them each going about his business and occasionally exchanging comments on what they find interesting.
It is in this casual and friendly atmosphere that Trebatius comes across the Topica. His reaction to the discovery is depicted, picking up on the voluntas of the first sentence, in terms of emotion: he is commotus, stirred up, affected by the promise he sees in the title of the work. We are led to see his response as somewhat irrational and disproportional to the actual interest of the work.27 After all, the title is all he knows of the book at this stage, and the title is so vague as to afford scarcely any idea of the work’s contents. Yet for that very reason Trebatius’ reaction is the more indicative of his deep personal interest and investment in his discovery. This again reminds us that it was the personal element and not the objective significance of the project that, the author claims, led him to undertake it. Cicero’s emphasis on Trebatius’ voluntas and on the irrationality of his interest does more, however, than simply help assign value to the treatise.28 It is at this point, I would argue, that the real identification of the reader with Trebatius can begin. After all, the reader’s interest, his voluntas to read a work by Cicero that is entitled Topica, cannot be very different from Trebatius’ desire to know about a book of Aristotle’s with that same title.
In the face of Trebatius’ ignorance of what it is he has conceived a passion for, Cicero then proceeds to introduce briefly the subject matter and immediately set himself up as an authority on the subject:
quam cum tibi exposuissem, disciplinam inveniendorum argumentorum, ut sine ullo errore ad ea ratione et via perveniremus, ab Aristotele inventam illis libris contineri, verecunde tu quidem ut omnia, sed tamen facile ut cernerem te ardere studio, mecum ut tibi illa traderem egisti. cum autem ego te non tam vitandi laboris mei causa quam quia tua id interesse arbitrarer, vel ut eos per te ipse legeres vel ut totam rationem a doctissimo quodam rhetore acciperes, hortatus essem, utrumque, ut ex te audiebam, es expertus. sed a libris te obscuritas reiecit; rhetor autem ille magnus haec, ut opinor, Aristotelia se ignorare respondit. quod quidem minime sum admiratus eum philosophum rhetori non esse cognitum, qui ab ipsis philosophis praeter admodum paucos ignoretur; quibus eo minus ignoscendum est, quod non modo rebus eis quae ab illo dictae et inventae sunt allici debuerunt, sed dicendi quoque incredibili quadam cum copia tum etiam suavitate. (Top. 2–3)
After I explained to you that the science of finding arguments so that we arrive at them without any error through reasoning and in the proper manner, the science that had been invented by Aristotle, was contained in those books, you indeed pleaded with me respectfully as in all things, but so that I easily perceived that you were burning with zeal, that I teach you those things. Moreover, when I urged you, not so much to avoid work as because I thought that it would be to your benefit, either that you read the books yourself or that you learn the whole matter from a certain very learned rhetorician, you had tried, as I was hearing from you, both options. But obscurity drove you away from the books; what’s more, that great rhetorician replied that he had no knowledge of these works, which are, I think, by Aristotle. And in fact I was hardly surprised that the rhetorician did not know that philosopher who is not known to philosophers themselves except for only a few. And it is even less forgivable in them for the following reason: that not only should they have been attracted by those matters which he discovered and expounded, but also by a certain unbelievable fullness and sweetness of his diction.
Trebatius appeals to him as an expert to satisfy his curiosity about the work. Cicero lives up to his friend’s expectations and on the spot gives a brief description of the work’s purpose and structure. Through the language he uses, Cicero positions himself as parallel to the author of the original work: the books in question were explicata by Aristotle; Cicero is able similarly to exponere them to his friend and, of course, to the reader, who has already been encouraged to position himself alongside Trebatius, encouragement that is here being reinforced. No wonder, then, that Trebatius, who feels that his initial interest in the title was justified and wants to learn more, applies to Cicero for further instruction. And here, in the description of the request, the writer makes clear to us again how emotionally laden Trebatius’ interest in this work is, as well as how obvious Trebatius’ emotional state is to his interlocutor. Trebatius is trying to hide his excitement, a behavior typical of his usual verecundia,29 but it is apparent to a friend who knows him well (another indication of the closeness of their relationship) that he is actually more than just enthusiastic—he is on fire.
The language Cicero uses here is very strong: Trebatius’ sudden fascination is like a love sickness, as inexplicable and as powerful. Their interaction here seems to be an allusion to a familiar scene in Roman comedy, in which a love-struck youth confides his affliction to a slave or a friend.30 The young man’s emotions are usually portrayed as disproportionate to the object of his interest through the exaggerated language that the comic poets assign to him and through the confidante’s reaction.31 Like the young man of Roman comedy, Cicero’s Trebatius has conceived an inexplicable passion (for a book) and turns to his more experienced friend for help.32
Yet, a scene like this usually ends with the confidante’s (more or less grudging) indulgence and an offer of help. Cicero, however, does not want the part of the confidante in Trebatius’ love affair with the Topica and refuses to respond to the emotions he can see behind Trebatius’ request. At the same time he also declines another potential model implied in the language of the sentence. Trebatius’ appeal, egisti, is conveyed in legal terms. Trebatius, whose field of expertise was in fact the law, is here appropriately portrayed as an advocate pleading in front of Cicero, as if before a judge, for access to the object of his interest.33 At this point, however, neither of the models offered is successful, for neither suits Cicero’s purpose. His aim is to condition the reader to be indulgent towards the treatise, and these models are unlikely to do that: they are flawed in that the author’s position is unambiguously superior to that of the reader and such positioning does not encourage indulgence towards the superior partner (the author) on the part of the inferior (the reader).34 Cicero uses the model of an unequal relationship to, as it were, tie the reader to Trebatius through the parallelism in their position, but then abandons it as unsuitable to his overarching goal. And thus he claims, in response to Trebatius’ request, that other means are better suited to bring the desired object within his reach. But first the author inserts a disclaimer to prevent the reader from supposing that it was indifference that made him unwilling to fulfill his friend’s wish. The disclaimer is needed. Without it the insignificance of the project in comparison with Cicero’s other work at the time, which was set up in the first sentence, might lead the reader to assume that the initial refusal is a result of Cicero’s reluctance to devote his time to this trivial task. If Cicero gave grounds for such an interpretation, it would undermine the main thrust of the “importance of friendship” theme that he has been developing with such care. Yet he wants to have it both ways. He wants to make the point that the project is relatively unimportant, but he also wants to appear as a man who puts amicitia above all else. In light of the emotional build-up he has just given to Trebatius’ interest, his refusal to go along with the friend’s desire needs justifying. Thus, the disclaimer: he was guided by Trebatius’ benefit, not his own, he claims, in sending him elsewhere for help. Greater value is to be found in doing the work oneself or at least in learning from the best possible teacher.
However, Cicero’s suggestion of outside help is of no avail. The reader is allowed to doubt for a moment that his author might not be the one best source for the knowledge he and Trebatius are seeking, but that moment is brief indeed. Cicero, we learn, was wrong in his modesty and Trebatius’ ultimate benefit does after all reside in his amicus. Cicero thus emerges as more of an expert than even the doctissimus rhetor whom he himself had recommended: an ingenious way to make oneself superior to a superlative. At the same time, the advantage of Trebatius’ instructor being someone who knows him well is made clear. What put him off the original Aristotle was its obscurity, (a libris te obscuritas reiecit). It will no doubt take personal knowledge to present it at the right level, and Cicero has all along been emphasizing his ability to perceive Trebatius’ feelings and thoughts correctly. He is thus perfectly positioned to bring the Topica to Trebatius both on the more general, as it were, public, level—he is the real expert on the subject, and on the private level—his knowledge of his friend’s personality and background will allow him to make clear what Trebatius found obscure in Aristotle. Explaining the Topica has been constructed as a labor of love, or, rather, of friendship.
This interruption in the direct contact between Cicero and Trebatius on the subject of Aristotle’s Topics and the attempted application to outside expert sources acquires further meaning when seen in the context of Cicero’s overall project of writing philosophical works directed towards Roman elite men. If we see Trebatius, both on his own, and in the reader’s identification with him, as a typical member of the Roman elite, a number of important points emerge to underline the value and the necessity of Cicero’s philosophical undertaking. Simply put, the following situation obtains: an elite Roman man becomes interested in a philosophical work written in Greek. We can safely assume that he knows Greek, but he can’t make it through a complicated technical treatise—maybe his Greek is not good enough, or he may lack the proper background. Were he to try and do background research on his own, he would need to peruse similar works, also in Greek. The independent book-based route turns out to be a vicious circle. Where else can he turn? There is the doctissimus rhetor, a professional teacher of rhetoric, most likely to be also Greek, and knowledgeable, to be sure, but as it turns out not familiar with Aristotle. Perhaps more importantly, this Greek guide would be unlikely to truly understand his potential pupil’s milieu so well as a member of his class would or to be able to anticipate which aspects of the subject matter would be most relevant to him.35 Nowhere can Trebatius find an explanation in his own language that takes account of his background and the nature of his interest. In this context, Cicero’s writing of the Topica and other works like it, namely, philosophical and rhetorical treatises written in Latin that use Roman material alongside the Greek, is constructed as filling an important gap and performing a valuable service to the members of the author’s social class.
In the following sweeping period Cicero proceeds, under the guise of indulgence for the rhetorician’s ignorance of the subject (the man is delicately left nameless), to further develop his own standing as an expert. By the time the sentence is over, he has established his superiority not only to teachers of rhetoric as a class, but also, and in a more significant way, to philosophers. In addition, he has drawn attention to his ability to appreciate good writing style: what is only obscuritas to naïve Trebatius and, apparently, many others, to discerning Cicero is copia and suavitas. In effect, he has shown that he has firm control over the exact areas in which Trebatius is sadly lacking—an ability to read and understand difficult Greek and knowledge and appreciation of Greek rhetoric and philosophy. The Cicero who emerges combines two kinds of expertise—one, based on how he differs from Trebatius, in Greek learning; the other, based on what they share socially and culturally, in how to make Greek learning relevant to a member of the Roman elite. Who but he could write the Latin Topica?
Now that Cicero has been indisputably established as the authority on the subject and the right man for the job, we are taken back to the relationship between the two amici as reflected in their negotiations:
non potui igitur tibi saepius hoc roganti et tamen verenti ne mihi gravis esses—facile enim id cernebam—debere diutius, ne ipsi iuris interpreti fieri videretur iniuria. etenim cum tu mihi meisque multa saepe scripsisses,36 veritus sum ne, si ego gravarer, aut ingratum id aut superbum videretur. sed dum fuimus una, tu optimus es testis quam fuerim occupatus; ut autem a te discessi in Graeciam proficiscens, cum opera mea nec res publica nec amici uterentur nec honeste inter arma versari possem, ne si tuto quidem mihi id liceret, ut veni Veliam tuaque et tuos vidi, admonitus huius aeris alieni nolui deesse ne tacitae quidem flagitationi tuae. itaque haec, cum mecum libros non haberem, memoria repetita in ipsa navigatione37 conscripsi tibique ex itinere misi, ut mea diligentia mandatorum tuorum te quoque, etsi admonitore non eges, ad memoriam nostrarum rerum excitarem. sed iam tempus est ad id quod instituimus accedere. (Top. 4–5)
Therefore I could no longer remain in your debt—given that you asked me often and at the same time were afraid that you were being tiresome (for I easily noticed that)—without an appearance of an injury done to the very interpreter of the law. For since you had on many occasions written many things for me and those close to me, I was afraid that if I were to hesitate, it would seem either ungrateful or arrogant. But you are the best witness to how busy I was when we were together; furthermore, when I left you and set out for Greece, under the circumstances when neither the state nor my friends had any use for my services nor could I occupy myself honorably in the midst of armed struggle, not even if it were possible for me to do so safely, when I came to Velia and saw your estate and your family, reminded of this debt I didn’t want to neglect your request, silent though it was. And so, since I had no books with me, I wrote up during this very voyage what I could recover from memory and sent it to you from the road so that through my diligence regarding your request I might stir you too, though you do not need a reminder, to remember my affairs. But now it is time to approach the task that I have undertaken.
In the first sentence of this passage Trebatius is still torn between voluntas and verecundia: one makes him ask Cicero for this favor over and over again; the other leads him to fear that he is being a pest. Thus, the portrait of Trebatius that Cicero has already established is here reinforced. And just as before, Cicero can see through the modesty to what his friend is actually feeling. But the significance of the sentence lies in the shift that takes place in the representation of Trebatius against the by now familiar background of his modesty in social intercourse and his somewhat surprising excitability on the subject of Aristotle’s rhetorical works. This is the point at which Trebatius begins to emerge as an equal partner in his relationship with Cicero. He is an expert too, we learn, an interpres iuris, and in Cicero’s opinion it is he who is truly qualified to judge how each party ought to behave in this context. At the same time as Trebatius’ expertise is highlighted, the former model for the two men’s relationship also changes. Earlier models, the young lover and the confidante, the advocate and the judge, highlighted one party’s seniority and superiority. The new model is more evenly balanced: it is a business partnership.
The language of finance, which overlaps significantly with the language of amicitia, now takes the place of the language of love, and Cicero begins to portray the work we are about to read as a debt he owes to Trebatius and not as a favor he condescends to do. We are in the world of obligation now, with Cicero aware that he needs to repay a debt that has long been due. His priority is not to be responsible for breaking their quasi-legal association. He does not want to be seen as causing his partner iniuria—in the metaphorical context, financial damage. Thus, yet another important shift takes place here. If the project of composing the Topica was earlier represented as undertaken primarily to fulfill Trebatius’ need, we begin to see now that Cicero is also an interested party: circumstances offer an opportunity for him to preserve his good standing in an important joint venture. His partner has fulfilled his obligation: Trebatius has written something for Cicero.
It would certainly be illuminating to know precisely what piece(s) of writing are referred to here. H. M. Hubbell in the notes to his edition of the Topica identifies two possibilities: “legal opinions given for Cicero and his clients or . . . books which Trebatius had dedicated to Cicero.”38 While there can be no certainty on this score since no details about books written by Trebatius are mentioned in our sources, the latter possibility is not only more attractive, but also, I would argue, more likely.
One of Cicero’s letters to Trebatius, Ad Familiares 7.21 (SB 332), refers to the kind of situation implied in the first option—a legal consultation undertaken on behalf of Cicero’s client. The letter was composed at the point in the affair when Cicero had already presented the question to Trebatius and passed Trebatius’ answer on to his client, Silius; both discussions were conducted in person. As Silius seems to require further assistance, Cicero asks Trebatius in the letter to contact the man himself, also in person. It is the personal interaction between the involved parties that is emphasized and valued by Cicero here. Though a written opinion may have been given in this or other cases, nothing of the sort is mentioned here. Writing seems to have little importance in this context.39
This assignment of value to personal interaction and not to writing in the context of a legal consultation makes it less likely that Cicero is referring to such legal services in the Topica when he mentions the debt that he is repaying with his treatise. It would not, on the other hand, be uncommon in such a context to mention a book that the dedicatee has previously dedicated to the author.40 Finally, quite apart from what the piece of writing actually is, the anonymous reader, who may not know any details about the author and his relationship with the dedicatee beyond what he is told in the preface, is likely to assume that a comparable work, a treatise of some sort, is meant. The reciprocity implied in this exchange of dedications contributes greatly to the new model for the relationship that is being outlined.
In the same sentence in which the main source of his debt, Trebatius’ writing for Cicero, is mentioned, the author alerts us to the danger that awaits should he refuse to repay it: he might be seen as ingratus,41 unwilling to duly reciprocate, and superbus,42 tyrannically usurping a superior position in what is now being portrayed as an equal relationship. Both gratitude and equality are crucial constitutive elements of amicitia. Should either party fall short on either count, it would be equivalent to a breach in the relationship.43 Given this new context Cicero feels the need to justify further his earlier reluctance. He pleads the pressure of other commitments, and he offers the best possible witness—the potentially injured party himself can vouch for him to the reader.
Then Cicero’s situation changes, not for the better, but at least he is free now for new projects. The shift in the presentation of Cicero’s relationship to the writing of his Topica is rounded off by something of a reversal of the initial interaction between him and Trebatius. As Trebatius was Cicero’s guest when the issue first arose, so now, in the prelude to its final resolution, Cicero visits Trebatius’ home. The exchange of hospitality is thus complete, and the stage is set for the repayment of the other kind of debt, here strongly figured as equivalent to a financial one. It is called aes alienum, a common expression for debt which literally means “money that belongs to someone else,” and Trebatius is that “other” whom Cicero needs to repay with a treatise.
Trebatius himself, however, is absent from the scene at this point and is not exerting any new kind of pressure: tacita flagitatio, something of an oxymoron, picks up the two main threads that his behavior exhibited all along. Flagitatio is a result of voluntas, and tacita is a feature of verecundia. Yet the reader is bound to feel that there must be some additional motivation of some sort to justify the sudden haste with which Cicero now applies himself to the task. He writes the treatise as soon as he leaves Trebatius’ estate on his voyage to Greece and sends it as soon as it is finished, prioritizing speed over a chance to consult the very books he is supposedly expounding.44 He presents this as a result of his diligentia, but there is more, I think, to what he is doing here. The final, and most significant shift in the positioning of the friends has taken place. Cicero is now in a situation where he wants Trebatius to do something for him as his amicus. And what better way to ensure Trebatius’ own diligentia in the future than to begin a new exchange of munera by showing diligentia himself and fulfilling Trebatius’ long-standing request? Similarly, the reader, whose curiosity Cicero has aroused and is about to satisfy, will in turn be in his debt as a recipient of the treatise. And what other repayment can he provide than to receive the work in front of him favorably?
The last word before the author gets down to the real subject matter of the treatise is excitarem. This brings back to mind the earlier emotional vocabulary that was used to describe Trebatius’ excitement about the Topica. The echo is not accidental. Now that he is finally satisfying his friend’s desire, Cicero wants thereby to encourage the same degree of emotional involvement in whatever requests he may want Trebatius to fulfill for him in the future.
The description of the relationship between Cicero and Trebatius has gone through a number of phases, reaching at the end what is virtually a reversal of the beginning. Initially, Cicero is unquestionably the senior partner to whom Trebatius somewhat naively looks for the fulfillment of his desires. Then, the relationship is portrayed as reciprocal. There have been munera in the past; the present work is one among many, contributing to the overall stability of their amicitia. And then in the end it is Cicero who is in need of favors. At the same time complementary features of the relationship have been brought out at different points in the dedication. The reader has seen amicitia represented as a voluntary bond based on mutual comfort and understanding, as in the beginning of the preface when the two friends are spending time together in Cicero’s library. Its more formal aspect, as a bond based on mutual obligation fulfilled through services, is presented in the second part, especially through the language of finance and business. The relationship that emerges from this dedication is a successful incarnation of the paradigm of Roman amicitia. Its success would lead the ideal reader to attach greater value to the treatise that stems from and contributes to such a friendship.
Alongside the evolution in the description of the Cicero-Trebatius relationship, the reader’s relationship with the author has also been evolving, and along parallel lines. In the beginning the reader knows nothing of the work to come and the expert author kindly introduces him to the subject matter, while at the same time intimating the social significance of the function that the treatise is performing. As he relates the circumstances surrounding his composition of the Topica for his friend, he is in effect forming a similar bond with the reader, who is being addressed in the same breath as Trebatius. Reading about Trebatius’ infatuation with the Topica, the surrogate dedicatee finds himself infected with Trebatius’ emotions. The author’s original condescension to Trebatius (and thus to the reader) on account of his ignorance of Aristotle’s work and his inexplicable interest in it has set up a frustrated voluntas also in the reader. Once this bond has formed, the shift in the presentation comes, and the author now acknowledges his obligation to satisfy the curiosity he has roused in the reader. The reader’s desire is satisfied when Cicero “gives in” and recognizes his double addressee as an equal, and his desires as valid and worthy of fulfillment. By the time the dedication comes to an end, the ideal reader must be as eager to learn about the mysterious Topics as Trebatius himself was at the first moment of discovery. The reader has been drawn into an association with the author and is ready to receive the work favorably, as a service that does honor to him as if it were performed by an actual friend.
I have been arguing that the anonymous reader of the treatise is constructed by the author as a surrogate dedicatee of the work and that he is as much the true addressee of the dedication, if not more, than the ostensible addressee, here, Gaius Trebatius Testa. Fortunately, in the case of the Topica, we have, in addition to the text itself, a piece of writing that was meant exclusively for the eyes of the dedicatee. When Cicero sent Trebatius the Topica, he enclosed a separate letter. The very fact that he composed this “cover letter” is significant. The dedication did not, apparently, fulfill the author’s need to communicate one-on-one with the dedicatee about the work he was dedicating to him. The preface-dedication included in the treatise, conversely, was quite intentionally meant for the general reading public. The letter touches on some of the same themes as the dedication, but the difference in focus and tone between the two texts is instructive:
vide, quanti apud me sis (etsi iure id quidem, non enim te amore vinco, verum tamen): quod praesenti tibi prope subnegaram, non tribueram certe, id absenti debere non potui. itaque, ut primum Velia navigare coepi, institui Topica Aristotela conscribere ab ipsa urbe commonitus amantissima tui. eum librum tibi misi Regio, scriptum quam planissime res illa scribi potuit. sin tibi quaedam videbuntur obscuriora, cogitare debebis nullam artem litteris sine interprete et sine aliqua exercitatione percipi posse. non longe abieris: num ius civile vestrum ex libris cognosci potest? qui quamquam plurimi sunt, doctorem tamen usumque desiderant. quamquam tu, si attente leges, si saepius, per te omnia consequere ut certe intelligas; ut vero etiam ipsi tibi loci proposita quaestione occurrant exercitatione consequere. in qua quidem nos te continebimus, si et salvi redierimus et salva ista offenderimus. (Fam. 7.19; SB 334)
See how important you are to me (although it is certainly well deserved, for my love does not exceed yours, but nevertheless): the thing that I came close to denying you when you were present, and certainly did not grant you, that I was unable to owe you once you were gone. So, as I first began to sail from Velia, I decided to write up Aristotle’s Topica, reminded of my debt by that very city that has so much affection for you. I sent you that book from Rhegium, written as clearly as the subject would allow. But if some parts seem to you fairly obscure, you have to keep in mind that no art can be grasped based on writings, without someone to offer an explanation and without some practice. You don’t have to go far: can your own subject, civil law, be learned from books? Although there are many, nevertheless they require a teacher and some practical experience. And yet, if you read attentively, and more than once, you can, by yourself, achieve complete understanding; but to get to the point where, once a question is put to you, the topics will spring to your mind, you will accomplish only through practice, in which indeed I will keep you, if I return safely and meet with safety on arrival.
The general outline of the events leading up to the composition of the treatise is the same in the letter and the dedication. But, unlike in the dedication, none of the details are related in the letter; unlike other readers, the addressee took part in the events, he knows what happened. Only the minimum is sketched out: Cicero is initially resistant to the idea of writing the Topica, but eventually sees the composition of the treatise as a debt he owes to Trebatius and an act that validates the importance their relationship has for the author. The language of reciprocity and debt employed here is similar to that in the dedication. Cicero is, however, more direct in describing how he at first more or less refused to fulfill his friend’s request and later changed his mind. The subtle negotiations and justifications that were developed so carefully in the dedication found no place in this context, but the overall parallels in thought and language are obvious.
The rest of the letter, however, is different from the dedication in both tone and content. It is geared specifically to Trebatius in a way that the dedication is not. Cicero anticipates his friend’s individual reading experience in several specifics. Trebatius’ problem with obscurity is addressed at length as the chief obstacle to his enjoying and benefiting from the treatise, whereas in the dedication this issue was only mentioned. Trebatius’ own learning experience is brought in for comparison to make the argument more convincing: as a lawyer, he knows the study of jurisprudence best and will hopefully be encouraged by Cicero’s parallels between the study of this text and his study of his own field.
The explanation of the difference between the two texts is not far to seek: while the letter is indeed tailor-made for Trebatius, the dedication, though it draws heavily on his relationship with the author and is meant to be flattering, is not primarily intended for his consumption. What is generic, and thus useful in addressing a general reader, is kept; the more idiosyncratic features are left out. Furthermore, the dedication ostensibly devalues the treatise by dismissing its content as comparatively trivial. Yet it seeks more insistently to impart value to the work in the eyes of a reader. This end is accomplished first by presenting as highly important the relationship of amicitia between Cicero and Trebatius to which the treatise contributes. Second, the reader, being effectively addressed together with Trebatius and thus asked to take his place, then is led to share, to a certain extent, Trebatius’ excitement over the Topica and his eagerness to read Cicero’s text that is now in front of him.
The delicate task of ensuring that the reader’s response to the work is as close as possible to what the author wants does not, however, end with the dedication. At the end of the work, Cicero once again addresses the dedicatee, and thus also his projected substitute:45
huic generi, in quo et misericordia et iracundia et odium et invidia et ceterae animi affectiones perturbantur, praecepta suppeditantur aliis in libris, quos poteris mecum legere cum voles. ad id autem quod te velle senseram, cumulate satis factum esse debet voluntati tuae. nam ne praeterirem aliquid quod ad argumentum in omni ratione reperiendum pertineret, plura quam a te desiderata erant sum complexus fecique quod saepe liberales venditores solent, ut, cum aedes fundumve vendiderint rutis caesis receptis, concedant tamen aliquid emptori quod ornandi causa apte et loco positum esse videatur; sic tibi nos ad id quod quasi mancipio dare debuimus ornamenta quaedam voluimus non debita accedere. (Top. 99–100)
Rules for this part of an oration [namely the peroratio], in which compassion and anger and hatred and all the other emotions are stirred up, are provided in other books, which you will be able to read with me whenever you want. But as far as this composition, which I had perceived you wanted, is concerned, your wish ought to have been satisfied fully. For in order not to leave out anything relevant to discovery of argument in any discussion, I covered more ground than you had desired and acted like liberal sellers are wont to do: whenever they sell a house or an estate reserving the timber and minerals for themselves, they nonetheless let the buyer keep whatever seems to have been placed fittingly for the sake of ornament. Thus, I was willing, in addition to that which I owed, so to speak, to yield into your formal possession, to give some ornaments that were not part of the debt.
The general import of what the author wants the reader to take away from the treatise is not much different from what he tried so hard to build up in the beginning: the sense that the work is a valuable token of a complex and deep relationship between the writer and the dedicatee, and thus also the reader. The dedication prepared the reader to approach the work in a proper spirit, with a full understanding of its genesis and significance. The goal of the conclusion is to bring the same themes back to mind, but also to gently ease the reader out of the treatise, without however letting him roam free; instead, to keep him integrated in the general framework of amicitia that the treatise serves.
The first sentence of the conclusion confronts the potential anxiety concerning the stability of the bond and its continued functioning after its latest thread—the treatise—is finished. The discussion of the peroratio was begun and then abandoned as beyond the proper scope of the work. Leaving out part of the subject, which could, logically, have been covered here, is equivalent to starting something new. No need to wait for some unpredictable new interest to arise: Cicero himself is planting the seed and offering to bring it to fruition. He gives Trebatius a hint: there are other books that may excite his curiosity as much as the original Topica did, and, again, Cicero is the one who can guide him through them. His expertise has been by now established beyond any doubt. Thus, just as he has finished paying off his old debt, he voluntarily sets up a new one. The constant flow of debt and payment back and forth is, after all, what keeps the relationship functioning, and this offer serves as Cicero’s voluntary contribution to its future.
Now that the new promise has been constructed and any anxiety for the future laid to rest, the focus moves back once again to the payment we just witnessed. Themes from the dedication are brought back for final resolution. We are again reminded that it was Trebatius’ voluntas that started it all, and the author now claims to have satisfied it fully.46 In case there should be any doubt as to his qualification to make such a claim, in quod te velle senseram, we are reminded of Cicero’s ability to correctly perceive his friend’s mental states.
The final paragraph is devoted to raising the value of the treatise further. We have been led to see it, through the metaphorical language used by the author, as the repayment of a debt and significant as such. Using the same kind of language Cicero now takes it beyond a simple business transaction. He is not merely an honest businessman; he is zealous and thorough in the service of his partner. He saw that there was more relevant information he could provide on the subject than his friend, due to his inexperience, had realized. And so he provided it voluntarily, even though doing so went beyond his original promise and resulted in giving more than was expected of him.
The final simile makes the same point more directly. Cicero is not simply a vendor, he is a liberalis vendor. He goes beyond the letter of the contract to truly please and satisfy his customer; he provides extras. Unlike his earlier business metaphors, Cicero’s language here deemphasizes obligation and in its place highlights the voluntary aspect of what he has done. He is liberalis, he is well disposed enough to his customer to include ornamenta; he goes beyond the debita, his strict financial responsibility, and beyond what he should mancipio dare, his strict legal responsibility. Voluimus, balanced against the terminology of obligation, brings back the voluntas that served as a starting point. This ring composition is a clear sign that the author’s actions are motivated by goodwill towards the addressee. The work ends as it began, with the author assigning it value based not on its content, but on its function in the author’s relationship with his reader. The dedicatee has been asked to perform further services and to expect others in return, and his surrogate, the reader, finds himself in a similar condition. By now fully involved with the author, he owes him a repayment of his own for the favor of the treatise: namely, thinking and speaking well of the work received. He too can then expect that further services—other books—will come to him from Cicero.47
Cicero opens the preface to De Senectute, not surprisingly, with an address to the dedicatee, his friend Atticus. What is, however, interesting and unusual is that this address is a series of modified quotations from Ennius’ Annales:48
‘O Tite, si quid ego adiuero curamve levasso,
quae nunc te coquit et versat in pectore fixa,
ecquid erit praemi?’—
licet enim mihi versibus eisdem adfari te, Attice, quibus adfatur Flamininum
ille vir haud magna cum re, sed plenus fidei’;
quamquam certo scio non, ut Flamininum,
sollicitari te, Tite, sic noctesque diesque’ (Sen. 1)
“O Titus, if I can be of any help and lighten the care
That now vexes you and firmly settled dwells in your heart,
What will be my reward?”—
For I may fittingly address you, Atticus, with the same verses, with which
“that man of not such great wealth, but full of loyalty”
addressed Flamininus, though I know for certain that you do not, like Flamininus
“spend yourself in worry, Titus, both night and day. . . .”
Thus begins the assigning of value to the work to come. We saw in the Topica that the author’s relationship with the dedicatee and his resulting ability to tap into the conventions of amicitia play an important part in that process. There is, however, an additional significant source of validation that De Senectute exploits, and that is the past. The use of Ennius’ lines at the very start allows Cicero to introduce these two elements at the same time. An undertaking is splendidly motivated if a Roman man is acting out of consideration for an amicus. And what better way for a literary work to begin establishing itself than by paying homage to the single most imposing and most Roman work to date, Ennius’ Annales?49 The author’s intimate familiarity with that text testifies to the present work’s lineage: it comes from what is most venerable in Roman literature, and the author claims a place for himself in that tradition. The particular past that Cicero chooses to invoke is not accidental either: the accomplishments of the Roman nobility celebrated by Ennius must have had special resonance with Cicero’s aristocratic audience, living now in shame under a highly irregular dictatorship.50
At the same time as the Ennian lines establish the credentials of the author, they accomplish something analogous for the dedicatee and the anonymous reader. The author assumes that the few lines he cites will be sufficient for the reader to recognize the source of the quotation and to recall the surrounding context. That assumption puts the reader in much the same privileged relationship with the past of Roman literature as it does the author. The fact that the author does not explain where the lines come from reflects his respect for his reader. He expects of him a degree of familiarity with Roman literary classics that is equivalent to his own. The reader, in other words, is treated as his equal. A valuable point about shared cultural background is thus easily made.51 The relationship with the reader is off to a good start.
The quotation accomplishes all this simply by virtue of being a quotation from Ennius. Its use is apparently justified by the coincidence that the two addressees, Titus Quinctius Flamininus and Titus Pomponius Atticus, share the name “Titus.” This allows the convention of addressing the first sentence of the work to the dedicatee to be maintained, even if the vocative comes from the text of Ennius and not from Cicero directly. The flexibility of address, its ability to be transferred from one text and addressee to another may imply a further expansive step: the inclusion of the anonymous reader in the address of the preface to the dedicatee.
But the passage does more than simply link Cicero and his reader to Ennius. To see what other function it serves, the modern reader, who lacks the cultural background that Cicero and his readers shared and, moreover, has access to pitiably few lines of Annales X, needs to fill in what Cicero chose to leave out, that is, the context of the lines in Ennius. Madvig’s identification of the scene has been universally accepted.52 It takes place during Flamininus’ consular command against Philip V of Macedon in the Second Macedonian War. Several mentions of the story have survived, the fullest account being Livy 32.11.53 According to Livy, Flamininus took over the command from his predecessor, Publius Villius, and inherited his dilemma: should he try to force his way into Macedon through the mountains where all the main passes had been occupied by Philip’s troops, or should he detour along the coast. The latter route was problematic because it involved losing direct contact with the enemy, who would then have a chance to elude the invaders. Flamininus preferred the former option, but the difficulties resulting from Philip’s superior position were so great that the Romans were entirely at a loss. This was the situation when the ille vir of the quotation came in. A local shepherd, on behalf of a prominent Epirote named Charops, who had earlier provided information to Villius,54 offered his services and his knowledge of the mountain passes to Flamininus. Flamininus initially doubted the shepherd’s trustworthiness and sent to Charops to confirm the shepherd’s words. Once confirmation was received, the shepherd fulfilled his promise and Flamininus’ troops gained an unexpected advantage. In the poem, the shepherd is the speaker of the first and the third quotations, and the second is a description of him.
What are we then to make of Cicero’s introduction of these lines at the beginning of his treatise on old age? And how are we to interpret his quoting the third fragment only to go on to comment on its inapplicability to Atticus? I suggest that Cicero is here constructing an analogy between the two addressees and their situations that goes beyond the simple play on the coincidence that both share the name “Titus.”55
As he speaks the shepherd’s words, Cicero places himself in a position in relation to Atticus that is analogous to the Epirote shepherd’s position in relation to Flamininus. The latter pair joined forces to battle Philip of Macedon. Cicero in writing De Senectute is similarly offering Atticus his help in battling a superior enemy, old age. Just like the shepherd, Cicero is going to serve as a guide and point out less known ways of getting around the problem. Without the help of the treatise, we are to imagine, Atticus, like Flamininus, would have to take the longer way in his stand against old age: he would have to learn to cope with it on his own, without the advance benefit of friendly and wise advice.
Unlike the shepherd, however, Cicero has no “local knowledge” to offer. He can’t claim to speak from greater experience: the difference in age between him and Atticus is negligible, three years; Atticus, moreover, is the older of the two. This is where the second fragment comes in: it is primarily Cicero’s fides, in this case as a life-long friend,56 that should inspire Atticus to trust Cicero to be his guide. The quotation from Ennius thus allows Cicero to delineate the relationship between the author, the dedicatee (and hence also the reader), and the subject matter.
The quotation also includes an element that identifies the relationship as one based not on trust alone, but also, similar to what we saw in the Topica, on an exchange of services. “If I do this for you,” the shepherd and Cicero each ask their respective Titus, “ecquid erit praemi?” The treatise is a gift that is meant to elicit an appropriate reaction, a gift or a service, in response. From the very beginning it establishes itself as not an independent self-contained unit, but as a link in a chain, a part of something larger that it serves to sustain.
Finally, the Ennian text serves one more purpose, and does so through its imperfect applicability to the dedicatee’s situation. The last fragment is quoted ostensibly to point out a difference between the two men who are drawn into the comparison. If this distinction were not made, the reader would be free to extend the parallelism between them also to their state of mind regarding the problem at hand. But Cicero is able tactfully to get around the issue of Atticus’ potential anxiety about old age.57 Atticus both is Flamininus and isn’t. Flamininus is overcome with worries and his mental state is a source of concern to the shepherd; Cicero assures Atticus that he knows that the state described in Ennius’ text does not apply to his friend.
The result of inserting and then denying the applicability of this last quotation is that it allows the author to maintain a certain degree of ambiguity concerning what one’s proper relation to old age should be. Both states of mind, worried and worry-free, are introduced, and the two men who are identified with them are both endorsed by the author. The biggest advantage of this ambiguity, other than tactfulness towards the dedicatee, is in relation to the potential reader: it allows the treatise to position itself as relevant to and directly addressing men of different ages with different attitudes towards old age. The major task that Cicero is facing in establishing his relationship to the reader is the same as in the Topica: encouraging the reader to identify with the dedicatee. The difference in subject matter between the two works, however, complicates this task. While it may be easy enough for any reader within Cicero’s aristocratic target audience to identify with Trebatius, the elite “everyman,” assigning a certain age and a certain personality type to a dedicatee restricts the potential for identification. Thus, Cicero attempts to allow as much flexibility as possible in his portrait of Atticus in these key respects.
The difficulty of deciding what is the correct attitude for a man to have when facing troubles, as well as the author’s unwillingness to be seen as having a normative stance on the issue (and thus potentially excluding some readers from his target audience), governs the section that follows the last line of the quotation from Ennius:
novi enim moderationem animi tui et aequitatem, teque non cognomen solum Athenis deportasse, sed humanitatem et prudentiam intellego. et tamen te suspicor eisdem rebus quibus me ipsum interdum gravius commoveri, quarum consolatio et maior est et in aliud tempus differenda; nunc autem visum est mihi de senectute aliquid ad te conscribere. (Sen. 1)
For I am familiar with the self-restraint of your spirit and your equability, and I see that you brought back from Athens not only a nickname, but cultivation and practical judgment. And nonetheless I expect that you are sometimes disturbed rather seriously by the same matters that worry me also. Yet a consolation for those is both a bigger task and one that has to be postponed until another time. But for now it seemed best to me to write for you something on the subject of old age.
Cicero wants to have it both ways and he finds the means to do it. In his description of Atticus here, he makes a distinction between a person’s basic character and his ability to react appropriately to a particular situation. First, Atticus’ character is presented. The personal qualities that Cicero emphasizes are the very ones that would seem to preclude any undue worry and anxiety. And, as in the previous passage (certo scio), as well as throughout the preface to the Topica, the author’s personal knowledge of his friend is underscored by the personal construction, which is somewhat over-determined and frames the sentence as Cicero’s knowledge encompasses all of Atticus’ character: novi opens and intellego closes the sentence.
Three of the four qualities ascribed to Atticus are variations of the same basic trait. Moderatio and aequitas animi as well as prudentia all have to do with inner balance and control, understanding one’s place in the world, being content with it, and acting accordingly. A complimentary characterization, no doubt, and one that is emphatic about the stability of the person’s inner core. On the one hand, this description serves to continue the theme of the difference between Atticus and Ennius’ over-anxious Flamininus. At the same time, the same basic mindset that this description of Atticus presents is one appropriate for a man who will be able to learn to handle the coming of old age. This is not only tact and politeness; it identifies what makes Atticus the ideal reader or, conversely, what makes this particular treatise an appropriate friendly gift, munus, for Atticus.
The choice of the fourth quality, humanitas, stands out in this uniform company and does not immediately make sense if we think of the passage only as a continuation of the negotiations around the last Ennius quotation. But if we see it as also beginning to develop the portrait of the ideal reader, then humanitas falls into place. It is not an accident that the quality is placed in the context of Atticus’ relationship to Greek culture. The composition that the reader is encountering is, after all, a philosophical work, and is in large part based on Greek philosophers’ discussions on the subject of old age.58 Humanitas, used here mainly in its incarnation as a cultivated man’s basic familiarity with Greek culture, is a necessary attribute of a reader who will be in a position not only to follow and appreciate the arguments to come, but also to recognize and value the author’s own humanitas, the learning and refinement he himself displayed in the composition of the treatise.59
The background of the ideal reader presented thus far in the preface combines a deep knowledge of Roman tradition, as embodied in the quotation from Ennius, and the familiarity with Greek culture, conveyed by the term humanitas. The combination is the same as characterized Trebatius, the ideal reader of the Topica, for this treatise will also combine Greek and Roman elements. The fact that Atticus was considerably more comfortable with all things Greek, philosophy included, than a man like Trebatius, however, is not mentioned: it could be problematic, both in terms of Cicero’s desire to address as broad an audience as possible, and because of the perpetual danger of appearing too Greek.
Now comes the tamen, the possible exception to Atticus’ otherwise perfect equanimity. For if Atticus were completely at ease with himself and the world, then even the coming of old age would not succeed in disturbing his aequitas. What would be the relevance of this treatise to such a man? If Atticus is to profit from it, he must have the ability to be thrown somewhat off balance by circumstances, a proclivity that will be required of the ideal reader of the treatise as well. And we learn that in fact Atticus does possess this ability: he can be moved quite deeply, gravius commoveri, when the situation warrants such a reaction. We are given an example and are assured of the appropriateness of his reaction by the authority of the author: the source of Atticus’ worry also greatly concerns Cicero himself.60 At the same time the mention of this other, greater concern (an allusion to the desperate political situation) occasions a promise of another consolatio, another future link that will allow the author to keep strengthening his bond with his amicus and the reader.
From the beginning I have been analyzing the strategies of the preface with the subject matter in mind. Yet it is only now, after the preparatory work of establishing the ideal reader has been done, that the topic of the work is actually made explicit by the author:
hoc enim onere, quod mihi commune tecum est, aut iam urgentis aut certe adventantis senectutis, et te et me etiam ipsum levari volo, etsi te quidem id modice ac sapienter, sicut omnia, et ferre et laturum esse certo scio. (Sen. 2)
For I wish that both you and even myself might be relieved of this burden, which I share with you, the burden of old age, whether already pressing or, at any rate, approaching. Yet I certainly know that you are in fact bearing it, and will endure it in the future, with moderation and wisdom, as you do all other things.
There is a suggestion here of potential ambivalence in Atticus’ (and the reader’s) attitude to old age, an ambivalence that has been foreshadowed by hints of some inconsistency in his character in the previous section.61 On the one hand the commonplace that old age is an onus, a burden, is stated;62 this continues the thread in which the author has been indicating the addressee’s ability to be troubled when circumstances warrant it. But that statement is immediately qualified by the author’s confidence that given the addressee’s general ability to handle misfortune, sicut omnia, he will be able to bear this burden as well. Ferre is perfect here since all of its meanings, the most literal as well as the most metaphorical, work well with the similar semantic spectrum of onus. Modice and sapienter then pick up in adverbial form the two major qualities required for responding to this treatise properly: moderatio and its cluster and humanitas in its incarnation as the understanding of philosophy. And again, it is the author’s personal knowledge, certo scio, that allows him to make use of the addressee’s established patterns of character in dealing with the specific problem of old age.
But it is not only Atticus’ character that makes him an appropriate dedicatee for this treatise. As with the Topica, it is important also that the subject of the treatise be relevant to, and in some sense derive from, the relationship between the author and the dedicatee, that it be a demonstration of the bond between them. With Trebatius and the Topica, it was the memory of the two friends enjoying a quiet hour together in the library that provided some of the background to the work’s genesis. In this case, it is the author’s understanding that he and Atticus (and the reader) are, or will be, sharing the negative experience of old age as an onus and the complementary desire that they should also share the positive experience of coming to terms with it. Closing as it does with volo, the first sentence is quite emphatically a statement of goodwill as the author’s primary motivation for composition.
Cicero is also careful to preserve the ambiguity in the addressee’s current relationship to old age. In both parts of the sentences an alternative is left open: aut iam urgentis aut certe adventantis senectutis in the first, ferre et laturum esse in the second. The effect of both is to avoid a clear authorial statement as to whether he considers his target audience to be men who are already experiencing old age or not.63 There are two possible motives for keeping the issue unresolved. One is a certain kind of politeness towards his reader, primarily towards the dedicatee, an unwillingness to label him a senex. The other is a desire to include in his target readership a wider age group.64 The two motivations are not mutually exclusive. But, whatever Cicero’s reason, the care that he is taking, and thus the importance to him of leaving this question open, is clear.
The work of justification and negotiation around the appropriateness of the dedication continues in the next section:
sed mihi, cum de senectute vellem aliquid scribere, tu occurrebas dignus eo munere quo uterque nostrum communiter uteretur. mihi quidem ita iucunda huius libri confectio fuit ut non modo omnis absterserit senectutis molestias, sed effecerit mollem etiam et iucundam senectutem. numquam igitur satis digne laudari philosophia poterit, cui qui pareat omne tempus aetatis sine molestia possit degere. (Sen. 2)
But when I felt like writing something about old age, you kept presenting yourself to my mind as worthy of this gift that we can both share and enjoy together. In fact, the composition of this book was such a pleasure to me that it not only banished the annoyances of old age, but made it gentle and pleasant. Philosophy, therefore, will never be praised in proportion to its deserts, for the man who answers its call can spend the entire time of his life without vexation.
The first sentence continues the theme that common experience is the motivating principle behind the dedication of the work. In this De Senectute is like the Topica, and it is not surprising that dedications to friends should be similar in this respect. But in everything else pertaining to the pre-dedication stage of the work, the backgrounds of the two treatises are virtually reversed.
In the Topica the theme of the work first arose in the context of a shared experience; the interest, which was the real driving force behind the composition, originated with the dedicatee, whose pressing pleas eventually resulted in the author’s acceptance of the task. The dedication to Trebatius was, under these circumstances, not only logical, but also inevitable. In De Senectute, we see instead that interest in the subject matter arises in the author entirely independently of the dedicatee: cum de senectute vellem aliquid scribere. The composition thus decided upon, the author then tries to think of a worthy recipient to whom such a work could be appropriately dedicated. Only then does he choose Atticus, and it is the fact that they are kindred spirits who will experience old age at the same time that motivates the choice. Thus, while in the Topica the work was presented as a munus in memory of a shared experience in the past, De Senectute is aimed at a future experience and is meant to ensure that author and dedicatee will share it. This direction is reflected in the progress of the sentence that starts with an emphatic mihi from which the subject of the treatise, aliquid de senectute, then originates, to the subject of the sentence, tu, which presides over the clause that contains the idea of common experience.
The difference in directionality necessitates a type of self-justification that would have been superfluous in the Topica. It was Trebatius’ own voluntas that set the wheels of composition in motion; the author’s assumption that the treatise was something that Trebatius would benefit from was substantiated by the situation itself. To leave Cicero’s expectation that Atticus would benefit from De Senectute implicit, however, might seem presumptuous. The expectation needs, in this case, to be located and validated within the framework of the bond between the two men—it will not do to map everything that is commune between them onto the future. It is here that the author’s intimate knowledge of the dedicatee’s character, so carefully established earlier in the prologue, pays off. Given this degree of understanding and their closeness, Cicero can justifiably present himself as in a position to project his own experience during the production of the treatise onto his friend’s experience during its consumption.
Cicero’s self-positioning as both author and reader of his own work has the effect of putting the actual reader on a more equal footing with him. For Cicero the very process of composition, as he presents it, was not simply enjoyable, but also more successful in fulfilling the goals of a philosophical treatise on old age than one would expect. It even surpassed the author’s own expectations. For, beyond removing the molestiae of old age, the feeling he experienced when writing the treatise has carried over onto his relationship to the subject matter: iucunda confectio has shown its ability to replicate itself by producing iucunda senectus.65 That what the treatise did for its author has implications for what it can do for the dedicatee and the reader is not made explicit, but is instead set up through the structure of the sentence.
The sentence starts with mihi echoing mihi in the beginning of the previous sentence. There mihi was balanced by tu in the subsequent clause. In the sentence directly following the reader expects a similar balance. But that expectation is frustrated. Instead of a personal statement about old age in Atticus’ particular case, we find a very general assertion about the benefits of philosophy. Yet the very expectation is sufficient to set the reader’s mind working on the task of producing the balancing tu portion for himself. The specifics are not important: he will surely turn his attention now to the question of how reading the treatise will affect Atticus (and himself) in the same way as the writing of it affected the author.
The escape into the general is brief, and the last section of the dedication returns to the matter at hand:
sed de ceteris et diximus multa et saepe dicemus: hunc librum ad te de senectute misimus. omnem autem sermonem tribuimus non Tithono, ut Aristo Ceus—parum enim esset auctoritatis in fabula—sed M. Catoni seni, quo maiorem auctoritatem haberet oratio; apud quem Laelium et Scipionem facimus admirantis quod is tam facile senectutem ferat, eisque eum respondentem. qui si eruditius videbitur disputare quam consuevit ipse in suis libris, attribuito litteris Graecis, quarum constat eum perstudiosum fuisse in senectute. sed quid opus est plura? iam enim ipsius Catonis sermo explicabit nostram omnem de senectute sententiam. (Sen. 3)
But I have said much and will speak often enough on other subjects; this book, which I am sending to you, is on the subject of old age. However, I assigned the whole discourse not to the mouth of Tithonus, as Aristo of Ceos did (for there is not enough authority in such a story), but to Marcus Cato in his old age, so that the discourse may have greater authority through that. My premise is that Laelius and Scipio are at his house and are commenting with admiration on the fact that he bears his old age with such ease and that he responds to them. And if you think that he is carrying on a discussion at a level of refinement higher than it was his custom to use in his own books, ascribe it to Greek literature, which he studied, as is generally known, extremely zealously in his old age. What more do I need? For now the voice of Cato himself will lay before us all my views about old age.
This final section ties in with the beginning. The quotation from Ennius inserted the author into the literary tradition and connected him to what was best and most valued in the Roman literature.66 The choice of characters for the dialogue will also serve to connect him to the venerable past. Importantly, he rejects the precedent of using a mythological figure as his mouthpiece. The heroic past in which gods and humans interacted is not the past he values here. Because he is about to present the reader with arguments many of which are borrowed from the Greek tradition, it is especially important for him to reestablish a tie with a specifically Roman past. What better speaker could he choose than that mos maiorum incarnate, Cato the Elder? Just as a noble Roman youth would derive auctoritas from his lineage, and the accomplishments of his ancestors would be seen as a promise of his own deeds to come, so Cicero’s dialogue seeks to derive auctoritas from Ennius and Cato.67
Cicero’s choice of Cato when placed opposite Aristo’s choice of Tithonus is also indicative of the different qualities the two writers value in their speaker. Tithonus is an obvious choice due to his uniquely extended experience of old age. Cato lived a long, but by no means unprecedented life. In one case it is the experience (and not necessarily a universalizable one) that governs the choice; in the other, the speaker is chosen because of his general wisdom and reputation, which is expected to lend weight to the views he will express.68 The choice of speaker also reflects on the author. Having a speaker like Cato allows the author to benefit from Cato’s auctoritas. The lack of auctoritas that Cicero identifies in Tithonus is paralleled in his description of Aristo himself in De Finibus:
concinnus deinde et elegans huius [Lyconis], Aristo, sed ea, quae desideratur a magno philosopho, gravitas, in eo non fuit; scripta sane et multa et polita, sed nescio quo pacto auctoritatem oratio non habet. (Fin. 5.13)
Next, [the successor of Lyco] Aristo is stylish and elegant, but that quality that is required from a great philosopher, namely, dignity, he did not possess; certainly he wrote many works, and refined ones at that, and yet somehow his style lacks authority.
Yet, because he is always careful to forestall objections, Cicero cannot ignore the discrepancy between the content he is about to present and his chosen speaker. He explains it away by artificially linking in the person of his protagonist the two different strands of his cultural lineage,69 which come together also in the body of the treatise where he uses Roman material alongside the Greek. The anticipated objection itself gives credit to the reader’s knowledge of Rome’s past and literature, just as the Ennius quotation did at the beginning of the preface: the reader is expected to have sufficient familiarity not just with Cato’s image and reputation, but with his actual writings, in suis libris. In the end, the reader knows what to expect from the treatise and understands the author’s reasons for constructing it as he did. The reader is now ready, and Cicero hands the discourse over to Cato.
• • •
My analysis of the prefaces to the Topica and De Senectute has demonstrated the variety of rhetorical and literary strategies Cicero employs to position himself and his text vis-à-vis the reader in the most advantageous way. In the Topica the author encourages the reader to identify with the dedicatee and then presents the relationship between the author and the dedicatee that develops from an inferior-superior model into an equally balanced and mutually interested one that represents the ideal of amicitia. The intended result of this process is that the reader should approach the text as if it were a beneficium performed for him by an amicus and should, accordingly, feel obligated to receive it favorably. In De Senectute Cicero is careful to allow as wide an audience as possible to identify with the dedicatee. Both prefaces construct a portrait of the ideal reader that is consistent with what we know from external sources about the intended audience of Cicero’s treatises. He emerges as an elite Roman male well versed in Roman tradition and fairly familiar with Greek culture, a man who would appreciate the importance of a real translation and integration of Greek philosophical ideas with the Roman cultural tradition. Apart from the treatises’ value as philosophical texts, however, they have worth that derives from sources external to their content proper. One such source, common to both treatises, is the idealized portrayal of the amicitia relationship between the author and the dedicatee. In addition, De Senectute is designed to advertise its connection to the best of Roman literary tradition, represented by Ennius’ text, and with historical tradition, represented by the choice of Cato the Elder as the main speaker of the dialogue.
1The development of the prose preface in antiquity is studied by Janson 1964. His panoramic view of the history of prefaces not only demonstrates that by Cicero’s time many features of the preface, such as a dedication to a friend, have become traditional, but also shows that the topoi are developed by Cicero on a larger scale and with more subtlety than is found in more formulaic prefaces. Stroup 2010.176–91 critiques and builds on his treatment in her analysis, focusing on Cicero’s practice. For a theoretical discussion of the functioning of the preface and the dedication, see Genette 1997.
2Cf. Genette’s discussion of the function of the preface (1997.197). He makes a distinction between getting the book read and getting it read “properly,” and emphasizes that the first is no guarantee of the second.
3I use the term “ideal reader” somewhat loosely, in a way that combines characteristics of Wolfgang Iser’s “implied reader” and Erwin Wolff’s “intended reader,” as described by Iser (1978.27–38). By Cicero’s ideal reader I mean one who, like Iser’s, “embodies all those predispositions necessary for a literary work to exercise its effect” and, like Wolff’s, is primarily “the idea of the reader which the author had in mind.”
4See Genette 1997.134–35 on the ambiguity of the dedicated address. Cf. Teichert 1990 on the role of Lucilius as a place-holder addressee in Seneca’s deployment of epistolary genre to philosophical ends: “Über die Instanz des fiktiven Lesers Lucilius wendet sich Der Autor an die realen Leser seines Werk” (72). Teichert compares the dynamic to that of a Platonic dialogue, but does not adduce Ciceronian parallels.
5Fam. 9.8 (SB 254) to Varro similarly presents the dedication of Academica in a personal letter. It does not provide the same type of contrast, however, since the introductory sections of that treatise are themselves in dialogue form.
6Cf. also Cicero’s comment inside the body of the treatise: quoniam haec ita ad te scribuntur ut etiam in aliorum manus sint ventura, detur opera, ut quam plurimum eis quos recta studia delectant prodesse possimus, “since this work is dedicated to you in such a way that it should come also into the hands of others, we must direct our efforts to being able to benefit as many as possible among those men who delight in the pursuits of the right kind” (Top. 72).
7Connolly 2007.98 discusses the effect on the reader of the address to Cicero’s brother Quintus in the preface to de Orat.
8The older version of this view is expressed by Taylor 1961.7–8, who equates amicitia with a political party; the most recent reiteration is Peachin, ed. 2001.7. The meaning of amicitia in a political context is also studied by Hellegouarc’h 1963.41–54.
9Most notably and influentially, Brunt 1965.20: “[amicitia] covers every degree of genuinely or overtly amicable relation.” Cf. Gotter 1996b.342–46. See also Konstan 1997, who opposes the trend toward the formalized view and stresses the emotional aspects of classical friendship.
10A reading of Cicero’s letters reveals the variety of relationships that he included within the field of amicitia: on one end of the spectrum are formal and distant connections with men such as Appius Claudius Pulcher and even Antony; at the other extreme, his very intimate friendship with Atticus.
11For a good brief discussion of this structure, see Fiore 1996, esp. 59, 66–67. On beneficium, cf. Saller 1982.17–21.
12In addition to the act of addressing the dedication to a friend, the overall epistolary structure of the prefaces also contributes to the creation of a more intimate relationship between the reader and the author. On the generic affinity of the preface and the letter, see Wilcox 2002.38–40.
13munus amicitiae: Amic. 68, remunetratio benevolentiae: Amic. 49; a text as munus: e.g., Off. 3.121, Brut. 15–16 (Atticus’ Liber Annalis and Cicero’s future repayment; cf. Douglas 1966, ad loc.), Fam. 3.9.3 (SB 72: Appius Claudius Pulcher’s projected treatise on augury and Cicero’s putative repayment), 9.8.1 (SB 254: Academica), 9.12.2 (SB 263: munusculum, Pro Rege Deiotaro), 12.16.3 (SB 328: Trebonius’ invective poetry sent to Cicero), Att. 16.3.1 (SB 413: munusculum, De Gloria). On the meaning and social function of munus, see Stroup 2010, ch. 2, who emphasizes the importance of reciprocity.
14Cf. Griffin 1997.15–16 on Cicero’s desire to please Varro with the content of his munus, Academica.
15Cf. Cicero’s decision to write individual letters to members of the senate in addition to the official report as part of his attempt to secure a triumph, discussed in ch. 2, under the heading “Philosophy and Politics.” The personalized letters are meant to capitalize on the particular bonds between Cicero and each addressee, something that can not be done in the public format, and thus to put individual senators under greater obligation to respond favorably to Cicero’s request.
16Cf. Gildenhard’s analysis of the development of the interlocutor of the Tusculans, 2007.69–76 and ch. 3.
17For Atticus’ role, see Sommer 1926; for an overview of the scholarship on the subject and full discussion of evidence for dissemination and actual readers, see Murphy 1998. For a general account of circulation of texts in Rome, see Starr 1987. Steel 2005.10–12 emphasizes the personal nature of the process.
18On the tension between the authorial desire for wider dissemination of his work and elite values based on personal contact and limited access to resources, see Habinek 1998. 103–104, 121.
19Gurd 2007 offers a compelling reading of Cicero’s practice of collaborative editorial revision as having a social community-building function, particularly prominent in the period of high literary output under Caesar.
20Cf. Connors 2000.224 on imperial literature: “Each literary transaction marks the consumer as the sort of person who partakes of literature in that particular way: as part of an exclusive and discerning circle of friends, or as one of an indiscriminate crowd, or as something in between.”
21Cf. the discussion of Cicero’s use of res agere in Tusc. 1.8 at the end of the preceding chapter.
22Cf. Habinek 1998.48: “. . . the Roman world where assertion of mos maiorum frequently masks some novelty of interest of acquisition.”
23Trebatius is first mentioned in Cicero’s correspondence in a letter (Fam. 7.5; SB 26) in which Cicero recommends him to Caesar. The letter dates from 54 B.C., ten years before the composition of the Topica, and presents Trebatius as already by then a long time associate of Cicero’s. The tone and purpose of this letter as well as of Cicero’s subsequent letters to Trebatius himself in 54 and 53 show a relationship of amicitia. It is identified as such in Fam. 7.6 (SB 27), amici tui, and Fam. 7.9 (SB 30), familiarem tuum. But it is also clear that Cicero performs the role of advisor and even patron for the younger man.
24De Officiis is accepted as the most likely candidate by Reinhardt 2003.181, ad loc. Dyck 1996.8–9, n.20 ties the beginning of the composition of De Officiis more closely to its goal as declared in the preface: a substitute for a visit to Marcus junior in Athens. Thus, he is unwilling to date the work’s earliest stages before the Topica. On his account, then, the identity of maiores res “must remain a mystery.”
25For voluntas as a positive term (as opposed to libido) in Cicero, see Wood 1988.86. On the role of voluntas as the basis of amicitia, see Citroni Marchetti 2000.3–12, who uses it as a structuring element in her study of amicitia and political power in Cicero’s letters, 3–99. For the role of literary requests in Latin authors’ representation of their work’s origins and their connection to amicitia, see P. White 1993.64–78; 72–73 on the Topica.
26For a pre-Ciceronian use of voluntas in a similar context, see Rhetorica ad Herennium 1.1, discussed in ch. 1, under the heading “Rhetorica ad Herennium, or Anxiety about Status”; cf. also discussion in Janson 1964.27–28, 32, Stroup 2010.181–86.
27Cf. Cicero’s careful phrasing of his own emotional involvement in encouraging Varro’s dedication and completion of the promised De Lingua Latina at Fam. 9.8.1 (SB 254): etsi munus flagitare, quamvis quis ostenderit, ne populus quidem solet nisi concitatus, tamen ego exspectatione promissi tui moveor ut admoneam te, non ut flagitem, “Although to demand a gift, even when someone has indicated its likelihood, is not the custom even of the common people, unless they are stirred up, nonetheless I am moved by the expectation of what you promised to remind you, rather than to issue a demand.”
28The portrayal of naïve Trebatius is certainly an exaggeration. Griffin’s (1995.331–33) reading of Cicero’s letters to Trebatius, which precede the composition of the Topica by ten years, shows that Cicero expects his young familiaris to follow his philosophical allusions.
29Cicero mentions verecundia in Fam.7.18 (SB 37) and a related quality, pudor, in Fam. 7.7 (SB 28) as Trebatius’ prominent (and attractive) personal qualities. On the meaning of verecundia, see Kaster 2005.13–27, on pudor 28–65. Cf. the reference in the letter to Varro, referred to above, to the books of Academica meant to elicit the counter-dedication as quattuor admonitores non nimis verecundos, “four reminders, none too shy” (Fam. 9.8.1; SB 254).
30Cicero’s familiarity with and frequent deployment of Roman drama is amply demonstrated by frequent quotations scattered throughout his corpus. Explicit references to theater and drama are collected by F. W. Wright 1931. For comedy in particular, see Geffken 1973, Vasaly 1985, and J. J. Hughes, Comedic Borrowings in Selected Orations of Cicero (Diss. University of Iowa, 1987).
31Good examples are Plautus’ Mercator III.iv and Pseudolus I.i; and Terence’s Eunuchus I.i. In the Mercator and the Eunuchus, ardere is used by the young man in love to describe his condition: iam ardeat credo caput, “already, I think, my head is burning” (Mer. 591); pectus ardet, haeret, “my heart is on fire and clings fast” (Mer. 600); et taedet et amore ardeo, et prudens sciens, vivos vidensque pereo, nec quid agam scio, “I am both weary and burn with love, and though sensible and knowing, alive and seeing, I perish, and I do not know what to do” (Eun. 72–73). Cf. in particular amore ardeo in the Eunuchus and ardere studio in the Topica.
32This language is not unique. Cicero positions himself similarly in relationship to Lucceius in the famous letter in which he requests a historical work from him (Fam. 5.12, SB 22). He begins with his pudor at making the request and frames the letter with the metaphor of burning (ardeo cupiditate incredibili, “I burn with incredible desire”; genus . . . scriptorum tuorum . . . me . . . incendit ut cuperem, “the genre of your writings inflame me to desire” (1); illa nos cupiditas incendit de qua initio scribi, “that desire, of which I wrote in the beginning, inflames us” (9). In this case, the request was not successful. In the framework that I propose for reading the exchange between Cicero and Trebatius, the failure of Lucceius to perceive Cicero’s desire when in his presence anticipates his failure to respond to the explicit request: one of the values that Cicero assigns to the potential fulfillment is indicium benevolentiae. At the same time it must be admitted that the request that follows is notably and avowedly lacking in verecundia.
33On the legal provenance of the phrase cum aliquo agere ut, see Reinhardt 2003.184 ad loc. Gebhardt 2009.59–61 discusses the language of debt in the preface and the closing of the treatise, examined below, as legal metaphors.
34The fact that the confidante of Roman comedy is frequently a slave, and thus, while superior as a source of advice and authority in the given situation, is socially inferior, may be an additional reason for the rejection of this particular model, especially since one of the frequent criticisms of the philosophical project that Cicero invokes in the prefaces is its incompatibility with the author’s social status.
35On Cicero’s general exclusion of Greeks from the world of his treatises, to which this mention is an exception, see Gildenhard 2007.31. On teachers of rhetoric in Rome, see Rawson 1985.76–79, cf. Corbeill 2001.268–75.
36This reading is disputed by Di Maria 1991. He prefers cavisses, a reading of the two latest (fifteenth century) manuscripts of the Topica, O and f. He argues for this reading as the lectio difficilior, based on Cicero’s use of cavere elsewhere in legal contexts and the fifteenth-century scribes’ ignorance of Roman legal terminology. The part of his argument that relies on the lack of mention of any written work in Cicero’s letters to Trebatius is, however, inconclusive given the nine-year gap between the two groups of letters. In addition, we have testimony of Justinian that shows that Trebatius did leave a reasonably large corpus of work on legal subjects: Cascellii scripta non exstant nisi unus liber bene dictorum, Trebatii complures, sed minus frequenta<n>tur (Pompon. Dig. 1.2.2.45). Furthermore, in his attempt to legitimatize the use of cavere with the dative (the main reason this reading has been generally rejected), the only parallel example in the active voice that he is able to muster comes from Plautus. I thus find his evidence insufficient, as does Reinhardt 2003, who also reads cavisses, based on a different set of reasons. He argues ad loc. that Boethius’ use of cavisset in his commentary on this passage suggests that Boethius read cavisses and that the use of technical legal terminology is more appropriate to the tone and context of the passage. However, both Reinhardt’s choice, and possibly Boethius’ use of cavisset, result from interpreting this sentence as a reference to written legal opinions provided by Trebatius. In what follows I argue that more likely the writing referred to is a dedicated treatise. Therefore, I read scripsisses with most earlier editors of the Topica.
37Our modern inability to conceive of a memory so powerful that it would allow the composition of such a treatise without consulting any books has led O. Immisch, Wirklichkeit und Literaturform RhM 78 (1929):116–118, cited by Kaimio 1976 and Reinhardt 2003.189 ad loc. (who accepts Immisch’ view), to conclude that the writing of the Topica during the trip was a fiction designed to excuse mistakes and the unevenness of the work. Kaimio (120) modifies this judgment in a more generous direction. He takes conscripsi to mean that the work was prepared beforehand and what Cicero did on the voyage was to write down the already thought out content. However, Cicero uses conscribere to mean “compose,” e.g., Sen. 1: nunc autem visum est mihi de senectute aliquid ad te conscribere, “But now it seemed to be the right time to compose something on the subject of old age, addressed to you.” Cf. Powell 1988 ad loc. “conscribere = scribere with the added idea of composition.” Gaines 2002.469 approaches the problem from a different angle and focuses on the absence of the preposition de which he argues is always used when conscribere means “summarize” or “explicate”; he then proceeds to read the statement as referring loosely to Cicero’s own Aristotle-style Topica, a move that, as A.R. Dyck points out in his 2003.01.17 BMCR review, has no textual basis.
38Hubbell 1949.384.
39On the question of oral vs. written consultation, cf. Moatti 1997.110 on the publication of collections of jurists’ responsa: “Voilà un bon exemple de transcription littérale d’une matière destinée à l’origine à n’être pas écrite . . . pour la raison que les responsa n’étaient que des avis oraux délivrés lors de consultations.” See also 350, n.23.
40Mutual dedications took place between Cicero (Paradoxa Stoicorum; Orator; De Natura Deorum; Tusculan Disputations; De Finibus) and Brutus (De Virtute), and Cicero (Academica) and Varro (De Lingua Latina). Caelius asked (in vain) for a treatise in Fam. 8.3.3 (SB 79), Trebonius wanted a part in one of the dialogues in exchange for his poetic versions of Cicero’s witticisms (Fam. 12.16.3 [SB 328], with P. White 2010.9–10) and Appius Claudius planned to dedicate to Cicero (but possibly never completed) a work on augury (Fam. 3.9.3 [SB 72]; see Dyck 2004.345). Caesar’s dedication of De Analogia to Cicero remained unreciprocated. The philosophical letter of advice, encouraged by Atticus (see Att. 13.26.2; SB 286), which would have positioned Cicero as a philosophical outsider addressing a monarch, never materialized: see Hall 2009b.100–103.
41For the use of gratus in the context of services performed within the framework of amicitia, cf. Fam 7.21 (SB 332, mentioned above): gratissimum mihi igitur feceris, si ad eum ultro veneris eique pollicitus eris . . ., “you will render me most grateful, therefore, if you come to him of your own will and will promise him . . .” For Cicero’s strongly negative view of ingratitude in the context of amicitia, cf. Pro Plancio 81: equidem nihil tam proprium hominis existimo quam non modo beneficio sed etiam benivolentiae significatione adligari, nihil porro tam inhumanum, tam immane, tam ferum quam committere ut beneficio non dicam indignus sed victus esse videare, “indeed, I consider nothing to be so peculiar to man as being bound not only by a favor, but even by an indication of good will, and consequently nothing so inhuman, so monstrous, so savage as to be guilty of appearing, I won’t say unworthy, but outdone by a favor.” See also Off. 2.63 on the need to react with gratitude to beneficia. Cf. Saller 1982.14: “Nothing was baser than an ingratus amicus and ingratitude was seen as just cause for the breaking off of amicitia.” On the dynamics of gratia in de Orat., see Hall 1996b.97–98.
42On the connotations of superbus and superbia and related words in Latin, see Baraz 2008.
43Cf., e.g., Antony’s accusations that Cicero did not repay his beneficia with gratitude, thus violating their amicitia, at Phil. 2.5–6.
44His ability to write it from memory also contributes to the portrait of Cicero the expert. However, this element is subordinate to the more prominent fact of the immediacy of execution.
45On the functional similarity of the opening and closing address to the reader, cf. Genette 1997.161: “The “postface” will . . . be considered a variety of preface; its specific features—which are indisputable—seem to me less important than the features it shares with the general type.”
46Cf. Ruch 1958a.342 on Cicero’s dedications in general presenting the work as “résultant d’un concours, presque d’une collaboration entre une personnalité créatrice, celle de l’auteur, et une volonté stimulatrice, celle du destinataire.”
47Cf. Att. 16.3.1 (SB. 413), where Atticus’ repeated expression of pleasure in De Senectute (te magis <et magis> delectare, “it delights you more and more”) is treated as an effective stimulus to further output (auges mihi scribendi alacritatem, “you increase my eagerness for writing”).
48Ennius, Annales X, Vahlen fr. 334–38 = Skutsch fr. 335–39. On Cicero’s mentions of, and quotations from, Ennius, see Vahlen 1903: xxxix–lv. This is the only treatise that begins with a quotation, a practice otherwise reserved for the less formal genre of letters (see P. White 2010.108–109, Damon 2008, and Goldberg 2005.87–96 on comedy in letters and speeches); cf. Powell 1988.95. Strati 2000.195–96 argues that the greater intimacy with Atticus as the dedicatee is what allows for this epistolary intrusion.
49For Cicero’ role in the construction of Ennius as primarily the poet of the Annales, see Zetzel 2007.
50Cf. Flower 2010.21 on increasing emphasis on “mos maiorum and continuity with the past” as part of discourse activated during times of crisis and change.
51Authorial practices regarding quotations and allusions, literary or otherwise, are generally quite indicative of the author’s stance towards the reader. The kinds of allusions authors employ and how obscure they are reflect what kind of readership the author considers his target audience. Poetic allusion, various types of which are discussed by, e.g., Thomas 1986 and Hinds 1998, allows more flexibility of reaction to the reader: the reader who does not have the background to see the allusion is not forced to notice that an allusion is being made by any formal element or explicit mention. The situation is different when an allusion is made explicitly, and nothing can be more explicit than quoting poetry in a prose text. A reader who does not understand an allusion of this type is likely to feel marginalized, an outsider to the world of the work and of the author. On the other hand, a kind of satisfaction and a feeling of inclusion come from recognizing an allusion. The reader feels that he truly belongs to the target audience. From comparing Cicero’s mentions and uses of other texts in the prefaces to the Topica and De Senectute, we can conclude that he assumed his audience had quite a thorough knowledge of Roman classics, but not by any means the same degree of familiarity with Greek philosophical works.
52Madvig Opusc. Acad., Copenhagen, 1834–42, II 293 ff.
53Other mentions/allusions are Polybius 27.15.2 (Skutsch 1985.511 identifies an earlier account by Polybius, which has not survived, as the source for all the later ones); Diodorus 30.5; Plutarch Flam. 4.4; Appian Maced. fr. 6.
54For this earlier episode, see Livy 32.6.
55It is worth noting that there is another similarity between Flamininus and Atticus: their philhellenism. Flamininus made history by his pronouncement of freedom for Greece at the Isthmian Games. Atticus’ eponymous philhellenism was well known and is referred to by Cicero in the next paragraph of the preface.
56Cicero’s Laelius specifically identifies fides as a basic element of amicitia in Amic. 65: firmamentum autem stabilitatis constantiaeque eius, quam in amicitia quaerimus, fides est; nihil est enim stabile quod infidum est, “but the foundation of that stability and constancy that we seek in friendship is loyalty; for nothing that is disloyal is stable.” On the meaning of fides in the context of amicitia and its location within the word’s semantic field, see Frey-burger 1986.177–85.
57For the importance of tact to the maintenance of amicitia, cf. Fiore 1996.59: “the security and friendship are themselves maintained not by a free expression of unmeasured thoughts and words but, just the opposite, by a careful consideration of the expressions required by circumstances which affect friends.”
58The conversation between Cephalus and Socrates in book one of Plato’s Republic and passages from Xenophon’s Oeconomicus are the main identifiable sources from Greek philosophy. Other works that have not survived must also have contributed, and Cicero himself mentions Aristo. For a discussion of Aristo’s identity as either the Peripatetic from Ceos or the Stoic from Chios, see Powell 1988, App.2. For a list of sources, both Greek and Roman, see MacKendrick 1989.211. Lefèvre has argued recently (2007) that the work follows Aristo the Stoic as the main source, both in context and structure. On the tradition of philosophical works on old age before Cicero, cf. Parkin 2003.60–61.
59Cf. Powell 1988 ad loc. For the diffent meanings of humanitas in Cicero see Gildenhard 2011.201–16; the meaning most relevant here is his last, “cultural refinement” (213–16). On Cicero’s application of humanitas to Atticus, cf. Leg. 3.1 with Dyck 2004 ad loc.
60The reference is of course to the political situation at the time of writing, sometime towards the end of 45 or beginning of 44 B.C. I will discuss the date and circumstances of the composition of the work in the next chapter.
61The topoi of Roman representations of old age are surveyed by Parkin 2003.57–89.
62On this metaphor in the treatise, see Sjöblad 2009.35–43.
63Roman definitions of old age were not precise. See Parkin 2003.15–26, who accepts 60 as a rough boundary.
64The care that Cicero takes here is particularly striking in light of the reference to De Senectute in the preface to Amic. 4, where he describes both himself and Atticus as old men, ad senem senex.
65Cf. Strati 2000.202, who comments that the repetition of the epithet here is a reference to the therapeutic potential of philosophy and writing in general.
66Strati 2000.196–197 divides the preface into two sections corresponding to the “psicologico” and “letterario” aspects of the composition of the work. She observes that in the beginning of the “literary” section, section 3, Cicero switches from first person singular to pluralis auctoris. However, the division is not quite so abrupt, as the use of the Ennius quotation marks the first section as literary as well.
67Cf. van der Blom 2010.124–28 on the importance of auctoritas in the choice of historical exempla, 168–74 on the factors involved in the choice of speakers for his dialogues, and 244–47, 275–76 on the factors involved in the choice of Cato for De Senectute.
68Cf. Amic. 4–5, where Cicero explains his choice of Laelius in similar terms and compares it with his selection of Cato in Sen., esp. Catonem induxi senem disputantem, quia nulla videbatur aptior persona, quae de illa aetate loqueretur, quam eius, qui et diutissime senex fuisset et in ipsa senectute praeter ceteros floruisset, “I have depicted Cato as an old man discoursing, since no other character seemed more appropriate to discussing that age than he, both because he had been an old man for a very long time and because in that very old age he had flourished beyond all others” (4). Cicero’s two reasons for chosing Cato, his long life and a particularly successful “performance” of old age are equally balanced through the use of et . . . et. But see Beard 1986.44–45 on Cicero’s careful choice of equally matched interlocutors in his theological dialogues, where, she argues, equal status is given to opposing positions as a result of the difficulty of integrating Greek and Roman views on the subject (for a different view that sees Quintus in Div. as perhaps the weaker party, cf. Schofield 1986.56–57, 60–61).
69On the historical Cato’s complicated relationship to Greek culture, see Astin 1978.157–181, esp. 158–170 on the issues of Cato’s familiarity with litterae Graecae, where Astin argues that it began fairly early in Cato’s career, and 169–170 on Cato’s views of Greek philosophy; see also Gruen 1992.52–83. Gruen 58–59 shows that Cicero’s struggles to emphasize Cato’s Greek learning indicate that the view of Cato as an anti-hellene was firmly established by his time.