Gone are the days when Cicero’s treatises could be dismissed as lifeless copies of lost Greek sources. And here is a book that fully brings out the intellectual and literary adventure involved in reading and interpreting De oratore and De re publica, the two earliest, most innovative among them. It is, however, also a book of extremes. On the one hand, many passages receive illuminating literary interpretations, and all readers will learn from Zetzel’s insistence on probing the works with questions old and new. On the other, the overall interpretation of the two works is approached in puzzlingly different ways, and that of De oratore is highly doubtful and based on a problematic use of the evidence.
Part I: De oratore
The earlier of the two works (55 BC) has been the subject of a number of fairly recent book publications: the ‘Amsterdam’ commentary[1] and an English translation,[2] to both of which I had the privilege to contribute; Mankin’s problematic commentary on Book 3 (which Zetzel pointedly ignores);[3] and Fantham’s attractive 2004 book,[4] which copiously illustrates the relevant Roman (and Greek) background and offers extensive, interpretive paraphrases (which in some recent scholarship unfortunately seem to have taken the place of De oratore itself). Zetzel’s approach is different, particularly in continually forcing the reader to engage with the complications of the dialogue form. Moreover, he offers a provocative if dubious interpretation: he claims that Cicero undermines the notion of the ideal orator advocated by the character of Crassus, that he also introduces other distortions detectable by his readers, and that the work is thus a ‘hall of mirrors’ that leaves the reader without a clear sense of where the truth lies (156-7).
The first three chapters contain some excellent literary analyses. In the first, the specific form of the dialogue chosen by Cicero is shown almost certainly to be novel. Chapter 2 includes a brief but beautiful demonstration of the brilliance of the preface to Book 3 (39-40), and an incisive analysis of the relationship between the work’s conversations and their ‘report’ by Cotta (43-7). The last part of Chapter 3 clearly sets out the (now common) view that Cicero makes us aware that the intellectual portraits of the interlocutors Crassus and Antonius are ‘true and false at the same time’ (68).
In the rest of Chapter 3, Zetzel starts building his general interpretation by highlighting unexpected or ‘disruptive’ aspects of the work, but this is not always successful. He first argues (50-62) that Cicero hints that his picture of the interlocutors’ harmonious relationships is historically false. This is implausible. His main piece of evidence is Antonius’ speech in defence of the ‘seditious tribune’ Norbanus (see esp. 2.197-204), which went against the ‘conservative’ leanings of Crassus and others. However, this is not evidence of a political rift, but illustrates the well-known pattern of temporary alignments in court cases cutting through political alignments, just like Cicero’s own defence of the tribune Cornelius in 65 BC (cf. Zetzel 55-8). The middle part of the chapter (62-8) is based on two appendixes that list all the speeches mentioned in De oratore and all known speeches and trials between 149-91 BC. Zetzel is thus able to show, e.g., that Cicero avoids trials that show the nobility behaving shamefully. However, his notion that Cicero depicts the decade of the 90s as unpolitical (68) is a result of his decision not to count the political speeches reported in Cicero’s own voice in 3.2-6; in fact, Cicero ensures that politics is never far away, if only by starting the work with the political crisis of his own day.
Two themes define the essence of what De oratore is about, and after the first three more general chapters, it is to these that Zetzel turns. The first is effective oratory: how should a Roman orator go about persuading his audience, especially in court cases? Through his interlocutors, Cicero criticises the inadequacies of standard rhetorical theory and offers a highly characteristic alternative. Unfortunately, this theme is given short shrift, appearing only in the first seventeen pages of Chapter 4. For instance, a central plank in Cicero’s approach – on which he makes Antonius insist – is the relationship between inventio and dispositio and the importance of including ethos and pathos under the former; but Zetzel merely mentions these points, and fails to explain why they are significant for Cicero’s view of the persuasive process (83-4, 90). Moreover, no mention is made of what is probably Cicero’s most revealing statement about his own oratorical practice: ethos and pathos ‘must, just like blood in the body, flow throughout the whole of the speech’ (2.310). Similarly, elsewhere Zetzel describes Crassus’ treatment of stylistic ornatus in 3.148-207 as ‘relatively close to the standard account’ (143); but it includes the long discussion of prose rhythm (3.173-98), extremely important to Cicero and not found in the standard handbooks. An acknowledgement of the restricted attention devoted to matters rhetorical would have helped. As it is, the sketchy treatment of one of De oratore’s central concerns constitutes a real distortion of the work.
It is the other main theme that really interests Zetzel: the (ideal) orator’s knowledge, especially of philosophy. The last three chapters discuss the relevant debates between the interlocutors in sequence: 1.1-95, 1.166-265, and Crassus’ final arguments in 3.19-143. Although there is much that is insightful here, there are also problems with some essential aspects of the knowledge theme. Zetzel, rather conventionally, interprets Socrates’ separation of speaking and thinking (3.60-1) as the moment when oratory lost its morality (147-8, 153-4), but elsewhere he correctly but inconsistently notes ‘De oratore’s lack of interest’ in the moral issue (148 with n. 12; cf. 146, etc.). Similarly, he underlines Plato’s central importance, noting, e.g., the framing of the dialogue by references to the Phaedrus (1.28, 3.228-30; e.g., Zetzel 105, 142), and the remarks about the Gorgias (1.47, 3.129; e.g., Zetzel 112-3, 157-8); but he also correctly writes that the arguments Cicero is replying to are not Platonic but ‘almost entirely Hellenistic’ (142 n. 1) – without reconciling these observations.[5] Finally, his overall interpretation of De oratore, as a ‘hall of mirrors’ where Crassus’ view of the ideal orator is constantly undermined, often relies on a superficial or selective treatment of the evidence.
Zetzel’s interpretation relies on three connected contentions, firstly that Crassus’ ideal is divorced from Roman reality. This aspect is at best overplayed. Nowhere, e.g., does Crassus take the Platonic line of stressing that the orator’s knowledge should be ‘precise and rational’ (pace Zetzel 156); like Antonius, he in fact rejects this notion (1.108; cf. 2.30). Moreover, Crassus’ plea is for philosophical knowledge, not for a rigid ‘philosophical’ moral stance (Zetzel 156, etc.) – it is Antonius who slyly bends it that way when attacking Crassus in Book 1 (1.219-33).
Secondly, Crassus’ ideal is supposedly undermined in a number of ways. For instance, in 1.166 Crassus uses defendere to mean ‘represent the plaintiff’ rather than the defendant, which Zetzel suggests is a ‘lexical eccentricity’ planted by Cicero to reflect Crassus’ limited knowledge (126-7 with n. 5). This is not just inherently unlikely (undermining Crassus’ ideas is one thing, making him look foolish quite another), but is also based on a misunderstanding: in civil cases, defendere and cognates are regularly used for both parties (e.g., 1.242; Caec. 3, 83, etc.).[6] Zetzel is on firmer ground (131-3) with the notorious passage where Crassus asserts that the law code of the Twelve Tables is superior to ‘the libraries of all the philosophers’ (1.193-5). However, even the ‘pragmatic’ Antonius ridicules this notion (1.245; cf. Zetzel 138-9), and when we reach Crassus’ final discussion in Book 3, there is no trace of this assertion.[7]
Thirdly, Zetzel unduly privileges Antonius’ pragmatism, especially as seen in the latter’s attack on Crassus’ ideal in the last part of Book 1 (1.209-62): he implies that Antonius is opposed to learning throughout the dialogue. Accordingly, in his paraphrase of Antonius’ first speech (1.80-95) (110) he leaves out 1.95, where Antonius seems to support Crassus. Also, he tries to explain away Antonius’ famous U-turn at the start of Book 2 (2.40), by suggesting that this move does not represent his real beliefs (95). The move, however, has been carefully prepared for (see 1.263 and the second preface). It also neatly fits the gradual revelation (underplayed by Zetzel) that the fictional Antonius does possess considerable learning (e.g., 2.59, 152, and 2.156).[8] Most telling is Zetzel’s selective use of the real Antonius’ statement in his ‘little book’ (libellus), that he had never encountered a truly eloquent speaker. Zetzel mentions only its appearance in 1.94 (110, 116), not its later appropriation by Crassus to support his view of ideal eloquence (3.54), nor its even more revealing final appearance in 3.189. There Antonius, speaking only for the second time in Book 3, states that he has now found his eloquent speaker – thus implicitly endorsing Crassus’ views.
A final, important case of omitted evidence is Zetzel’s silence about the comprehensively formulated climax of Crassus’ speech on his ideal (3.142-3), where he concludes that ‘the palm must go to the learned orator’ (docto oratori palma danda est), and which is followed by a respectful silence from all other interlocutors. Antonius’ early objections must of course not be forgotten: realistically, no-one (except Cicero himself?: e.g., 3.95) can be expected to meet the ideal. But that it is to be taken seriously as an ideal, set up to be striven after, is clear from the positioning and formulation of this climax, to which Book 3 has been building up. It is puzzling that Zetzel’s discussion does not take the structure of the work more seriously into account, because in the second part of the book he in fact masterfully demonstrates how vital such an approach is for the interpretation of De re publica.
Zetzel’s arguments for seeing De oratore as self-undermining are, then, unconvincing. But his challenges to received views and his astute literary interpretations make this part of the book required reading for all those interested in De oratore.
Part II: De re publica
‘Frustrating’ – Zetzel uses the word often in his discussion of Cicero’s second dialogue (composed 54-51 BC), and with good reason, as only about one quarter of the work survives. Its great interest has nonetheless led to a high volume of recent scholarship, including work by Ferrary, Schofield, and Atkins, many contributions by Zetzel himself, and Powell’s 2006 Oxford edition (the latter is rather too curtly treated). Zetzel now offers a welcome full-length, coherent treatment. It includes some revisions of his earlier views,[9] and in the same spirit, when speculation is inevitable (as it frequently is) he often acknowledges the uncertainty of his analyses.[10] My discussion of this second part can be relatively brief, since the problems evident in the first part are almost entirely absent, and I found most of the discussion convincing and illuminating.
In Chapter 8, connections with De oratore are pointed out, and the first preface, with Cicero’s refutation of objections to public service, is fittingly highlighted. Chapter 9 is mainly devoted to the fragmentary nature of De re publica. This potentially forbidding topic is deftly handled. After describing the palimpsest that carries most of the surviving text, Zetzel offers a particularly lucid discussion of the ways in which the biases and interests of the four main quoting authors (Lactantius, Augustine, Macrobius, and Nonius Marcellus) determine and distort their selection of quotations. Chapter 10 convincingly shows how cleverly Cicero employs the other speakers to drive Scipio’s argument forward. For instance (195-7), Laelius’ question in 1.33 is made more concrete by Tubero’s intervention in 2.64, which leads to the concentration on the important moral and social aspect of constitutions in what follows.
The remaining four chapters go through the work in order. Chapter 11 discusses the types of constitutions and the early development of the Roman constitution (Books 1-2). Zetzel clearly shows how even Romulus’ kingship pre-figures the mixed constitution. Chapter 12, on the rest of Book 2, importantly asks the question why Cicero thought that the Servian constitution, good as it was, still went wrong, and shows that this was especially a matter of morality – which points ahead to the larger issues of Books 3-4. Chapter 13 probes the debate about justice in Book 3, and its central importance in the evaluation of constitutions. Finally, Chapter 14 first discusses Cicero’s/Scipio’s view of the importance of morality and of individuals in maintaining a res publica. It ends with an analysis of Scipio’s Dream, which emphasises not only how it supports Scipio’s previous arguments, but also the complexity of its literary features, particularly its relationship with Plato’s Myth of Er.
Especially the discussions of Books 1 and 2 could perhaps have done with some condensation, but there is much to compensate. For instance, Zetzel clearly brings out the centrality of the statesman (rector et gubernator civitatis), who embodies the role of morality and individual action in preserving the commonwealth (esp. 246-51, 256-61). Another thread is the importance of Tiberius Gracchus who, among other failings, is depicted as undermining Rome’s just behaviour towards its allies (Rep. 3.41 [3.34 Powell]), and thus ‘Rome’s claim to be a legitimate res publica’ (274). Zetzel attractively speculates (283-4) that in the lost end of Book 3, Scipio may have discussed whether anything could be done to repair this damage to Rome’s legitimacy.
But it is Zetzel’s consistent demonstration of the inseparability of content and literary form that stands out. E.g., Cicero’s management of the interlocutors is clearly shown. Particularly important is the demonstration of Cicero’s pervasive use of structure: later passages modify earlier ones, and his views are thus developed in ever more depth. A good example is 3.43-5 (3.35 Powell), where Scipio builds on Laelius’ contribution to the debate about justice earlier in Book 3: he now elevates justice and law to criteria for the legitimacy of a constitution, thus rejecting his earlier acceptance of tyranny, oligarchy, and ochlocracy as real (if flawed) commonwealths (see esp. Zetzel 279, building on Schofield). An important corollary of all this is that scholars have often been too quick in assigning specific and consistent, ‘technical’ meanings to terms and phrases. Words such as causa and ratio must be interpreted according to context and wider usage (211 n. 45, 256 n. 25).
In line with his interpretation of De oratore, Zetzel sees Cicero as keen to emphasise ‘the dubious value of philosophy in civic life’ (171, and often). This is problematic: he rightly notes that we are led to think that ‘even celestial knowledge has more than one use’ (202; cf. e.g. 1.30), and Scipio’s Dream, if anything, is otherworldly. We should, moreover, note the paradox that while Cicero subordinates philosophy and other learning to civic activity, the work in which he does so is itself a major intellectual endeavour – as this book so clearly demonstrates.
In sum, despite the real problems with Zetzel’s overall interpretation of De oratore, it should be clear that his book offers a signal contribution to our understanding of both these great Ciceronian dialogues.
Notes
[1] Anton D. Leeman, Harm Pinkster, Hein L. W. Nelson, Edwin Rabbie, Jakob Wisse, Michael Winterbottom, Elaine Fantham, M. Tullius Cicero De oratore libri III. Kommentar/A Commentary (5 volumes; Heidelberg 1981-2008).
[2] James M. May & Jakob Wisse (transl., etc.), Cicero, On the Ideal Orator (De Oratore) (New York/Oxford 2001).
[3] David Mankin (ed.), Cicero, De oratore Book III (Cambridge Greek and Latin Classics; Cambridge 2011); see my review in Gnomon 87 (2015), 706-11.
[4] Elaine Fantham, The Roman World of Cicero’s De Oratore (Oxford 2004).
[5] Cf. vol. 5 of our commentary (above n. 1), 110: Plato’s importance is, I think, symbolic.
[6] See my ‘Defending the “Accuser”? The Ciceronian Crassus’ legal expertise and the use of defendere in civil cases’ (provisional title, in prep.).
[7] Pace Zetzel 151 with n. 16, where he claims that politissimam in 3.135 hanc politissimam doctrinam transmarinam atque adventiciam has a disparaging meaning (‘shiny’): there is no evidence for such a meaning.
[8] The third of these passages is not (as Zetzel 153 would have it) an approval of Callicles’ attack on philosophy from Plato’s Gorgias, but a moderate response to an allusion to Callicles by Catulus (cf. Gorg. 485E-486C).
[9] E.g., 198 n. 10 (on 3.66 naturae imagine), 286 n. 1 (on the famous quotation from Ennius in 5.1).
[10] E.g., 283 and 283-4 on the end of Book 3.