Cicero is generally remembered for being a passable to decent philosopher, a good politician and an amazing orator and lawyer. I therefore wasn’t surprised when on AMC’s Better Call Saul, the main character Jimmy McGill received a travel mug with the words “World’s Second Best Lawyer.” I wasn’t surprised because Jimmy was originally from Cicero, Illinois. Jimmy may be good, but he’s not Cicero.
But Cicero fascinates me not because of anything of those things but because over a thousand of his personal letters survive. The reason they survive – at least, the reason contemporary scholars appear to agree on – is because Cicero’s freedman and secretary Tiro published them after the man’s death. These letters provide many insights into the politics of the first century. In these letters Cicero provides many clues to how slaves, freedmen and manumission figured into the politics and daily life of that time.
On the one hand, Cicero’s descriptions of manumission fit into larger patterns amid ancient writers. For example, Cicero accuses his personal enemy Clodius of recruiting a ragtag collection of followers through promises of manumission to runaway slaves (Ad Atticum 4.3.2 and 4.3.4). Writers such as Plutarch and Diodorus also describe Roman politicians of quickly gathering a mob in this way. I argue that we shouldn’t be too trusting of these claims. Depicting an opponent’s followers as former slaves is a handy rhetorical trick after all, and it doesn’t seem to me that in any of these examples the writers had either the resources or inclination to actually know whether or not the man in question had recruited his followers in this way (see also Cicero’s comments in Ad Atticum 2.1.8)
On the other hand, Cicero also writes of manumission in a personal and enigmatic way. He ends a letter to his close friend Atticus lamenting the manumission of his brother’s slave Statius (Ad Atticum 2.18.3). Cicero provides no explanation in that letter as to why this occurrence pains him. His next letter to Atticus again mentions this manumission and again describes it as wounding (2.19.1). But rather than explain forthrightly why this event is so painful to him, Cicero instead quotes some lines from Terence’s Phormio and then offer the following comments:
“I do not know what to do about it [Statius’ manumission], though its effect is not so damaging as the gossip. I cannot even feel angry towards those whom I love dearly. I am merely saddened, but quite remarkably so. My other worries are on major issues.” (2.19.1 trans. Walsh)
Walsh argues that Statius and Cicero were competitors for their influence over Cicero’s brother Quintius. That Quintius manumitted Statius is an indication of Quintius’ fondness for Statius, a fondness that comes at a cost to Cicero’s influence. This theory is quite clever, but I’m not sure if I see the evidence for it in the text.
Cicero could have easily avoided spelling out the particulars of his own relationship with Statius because Atticus knew Quintius personally and therefore it seems safe to assume that Atticus knew Statius himself as well. I also find this passage fascinating because it clearly indicates how manumission was simultaneously a familial and social event. It was familial because Cicero has strong feelings about it; quite possibly he had tried to dissuade Quintius from manumitting Statius. Cicero’s concerns about the gossip surrounding this issue demonstrates that this event was not entirely contained within the family; Statius’ manumission had public consequences.
Enslavement was both an economic and family system. Slaves were within but not entirely of the Roman family. As a result, I think, following Judith Butler, it is important to ask how and under what circumstances slave life was grievable in Rome. For Cicero writes in another letter to Atticus: “My reader Sositheus has died. He was a genial youth, and his death has affected me more than a slave’s death seemingly should.” (Ad Atticum 1.12.4, trans. Walsh modified).
But Cicero fascinates me not because of anything of those things but because over a thousand of his personal letters survive. The reason they survive – at least, the reason contemporary scholars appear to agree on – is because Cicero’s freedman and secretary Tiro published them after the man’s death. These letters provide many insights into the politics of the first century. In these letters Cicero provides many clues to how slaves, freedmen and manumission figured into the politics and daily life of that time.
On the one hand, Cicero’s descriptions of manumission fit into larger patterns amid ancient writers. For example, Cicero accuses his personal enemy Clodius of recruiting a ragtag collection of followers through promises of manumission to runaway slaves (Ad Atticum 4.3.2 and 4.3.4). Writers such as Plutarch and Diodorus also describe Roman politicians of quickly gathering a mob in this way. I argue that we shouldn’t be too trusting of these claims. Depicting an opponent’s followers as former slaves is a handy rhetorical trick after all, and it doesn’t seem to me that in any of these examples the writers had either the resources or inclination to actually know whether or not the man in question had recruited his followers in this way (see also Cicero’s comments in Ad Atticum 2.1.8)
On the other hand, Cicero also writes of manumission in a personal and enigmatic way. He ends a letter to his close friend Atticus lamenting the manumission of his brother’s slave Statius (Ad Atticum 2.18.3). Cicero provides no explanation in that letter as to why this occurrence pains him. His next letter to Atticus again mentions this manumission and again describes it as wounding (2.19.1). But rather than explain forthrightly why this event is so painful to him, Cicero instead quotes some lines from Terence’s Phormio and then offer the following comments:
“I do not know what to do about it [Statius’ manumission], though its effect is not so damaging as the gossip. I cannot even feel angry towards those whom I love dearly. I am merely saddened, but quite remarkably so. My other worries are on major issues.” (2.19.1 trans. Walsh)
Walsh argues that Statius and Cicero were competitors for their influence over Cicero’s brother Quintius. That Quintius manumitted Statius is an indication of Quintius’ fondness for Statius, a fondness that comes at a cost to Cicero’s influence. This theory is quite clever, but I’m not sure if I see the evidence for it in the text.
Cicero could have easily avoided spelling out the particulars of his own relationship with Statius because Atticus knew Quintius personally and therefore it seems safe to assume that Atticus knew Statius himself as well. I also find this passage fascinating because it clearly indicates how manumission was simultaneously a familial and social event. It was familial because Cicero has strong feelings about it; quite possibly he had tried to dissuade Quintius from manumitting Statius. Cicero’s concerns about the gossip surrounding this issue demonstrates that this event was not entirely contained within the family; Statius’ manumission had public consequences.
Enslavement was both an economic and family system. Slaves were within but not entirely of the Roman family. As a result, I think, following Judith Butler, it is important to ask how and under what circumstances slave life was grievable in Rome. For Cicero writes in another letter to Atticus: “My reader Sositheus has died. He was a genial youth, and his death has affected me more than a slave’s death seemingly should.” (Ad Atticum 1.12.4, trans. Walsh modified).