At a time when I had entirely, or to a great degree, released myself from my labors as an advocate, and from my duties as a senator, I had recourse again, Brutus, principally by your advice, to those studies which never had been out of my mind, although neglected at times, and which after a long interval I resumed.
And now, since the principles and rules of all arts which relate to living well depend on the study of wisdom, which is called philosophy, I have thought it an employment worthy of me to illustrate them in the Latin tongue, not because philosophy could not be understood in the Greek language, or by the teaching of Greek masters; but it has always been my opinion that our countrymen have, in some instances, made wiser discoveries than the Greeks, with reference to those subjects which they have considered worthy of devoting their attention to, and in others have improved upon their discoveries, so that in one way or other we surpass them on every point.
For, with regard to the manners and habits of private life, and family and domestic affairs, we certainly manage them with more elegance, and better than they did; and as to our republic, that our ancestors have, beyond all dispute, formed on better customs and laws.
What shall I say of our military affairs; in which our ancestors have been most eminent in valor, and still more so in discipline?
As to those things which are attained not by study, but Nature, neither Greece, nor any nation, is comparable to us; for what people has displayed such gravity, such steadiness, such greatness of soul, probity, faith—such distinguished virtue of every kind, as to be equal to our ancestors.
In learning, indeed, and all kinds of literature, Greece did excel us, and it was easy to do so where there was no competition; for while among the Greeks the poets were the most ancient species of learned men—since Homer and Hesiod lived before the foundation of Rome, and Archilochus was a contemporary of Romulus—we received poetry much later. For it was about five hundred and ten years after the building of Rome before Livius published a play in the consulship of C. Claudius, the son of Cæcus, and M. Tuditanus, a year before the birth of Ennius, who was older than Plautus and Naevius.
Though I spent several years being offered what was called a classical, or liberal arts, or “Great Books” education, I cannot recall a single instance where I was asked to directly read anything substantial from the writings of Marcus Tullius Cicero.
I was told that he was a great statesman and orator, of course, and I was given all the context about his epic political battles in the Roman Senate, and yet we somehow passed over his actual words. Even when I was struggling to learn Latin, we started with Julius Caesar and Petronius, and then jumped to Virgil and Ovid. Beyond a few practice sentences in Wheelock, Cicero was nowhere to be found.
It was only later that I realized I should remedy this absence. The classicists seemed to think I was regressing, the philosophers seemed to think I was being intellectually lazy, and the historians seemed to think I was wasting my time on penny dreadfuls.
I was also becoming far more interested in Stoicism, and yet the few “orthodox” Stoics of the time were quick to tell me that there was nothing Stoic about Cicero at all, that he was just an opportunist who used whatever served his immediate purposes.
I’m not entirely sure why Cicero gets such short shrift. Is it because we so dislike politicians of any sort? Is it because we somehow think that the Romans couldn’t manage profound philosophical thinking as well as the Greeks? Is it because we prefer the swooning verses of dark poets over the incisive words of the folks who get their hands dirty in the public square?
I shouldn’t speculate too much, and instead I should see what Cicero can actually teach me, whatever else the experts may say. I hate to admit it, but their smug dismissal only encouraged me.
I started with On Duties, and I couldn’t help but think that the text was greatly underrated, a noble appeal to both principle and practice. Since Stoicism had tickled my fancy, I moved on to the Tusculan Disputations, to find a wonderful summation of so much ancient wisdom.
“Yes, but it’s not terribly original, and he mixes and matches different philosophical schools, sloppily going from the Stoics, to the Platonists, to the Peripatetics.”
I know I am perhaps too eccentric in this regard, but I do prize gritty truth over glitzy originality.
I know I am perhaps too flaky in this regard, but I see no need to stick with one or another “-ism” in order to honor such truth.
I find it quite interesting that Cicero opens the text with some explanation of his motives, and how this also speaks to some of the criticisms of his thinking.
“Well, he’s a decent popularizer of philosophy, I suppose, but there’s not much more to it than that.”
I know I am perhaps too reactionary in this regard, but I am quite happy with daily relevance instead of academic snobbery.
At this late point in his life, after the death of his daughter, Cicero tried to withdraw from the hectic public sphere, and to devote himself more to the quiet study of philosophy. This dialogue, addressed to Brutus, very soon to be one of the assassins of Julius Caesar, considers perennial questions about the meaning of death and loss, and how virtue stands as the only remedy to our suffering.
I am wary of hasty generalizations about contrasting the Greeks and the Romans, much as I am wary about contrasting peaches and panda bears, though Cicero seems keen to address the issue head-on.
I was once told, and I do continue to pass it on to others, that the entire spectrum of human wisdom can be encapsulated in a study of Greek philosophy. It’s all there, every problem and every solution, every agony and every redemption.
I also say that one can find something quite similar in the study of Hindu philosophy, for example, but that tends to get more readily passed over by the bigwigs.
Now what about the Romans? I wonder if Cicero feels a bit defensive here, as if he has something to prove. I do not think he needs to protest so much, as his own mastery of words, his own grasp of wisdom and virtue, and his ability to put his money where his mouth is are proof enough of the glory that could be found in Rome.
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