This chapter provides a brief history of thinking about glory from Homer to Arendt. It begins with the “Achillean” conception of the term, which is focused on celebrating how rather than why one fights. We then contrast this idea with its “Periclean” counterpart, wherein glory is fundamentally moral and political. Next, we discuss Cicero’s classical account of glory. The Roman orator argues that civic pursuits are more worthy of glory than military ones, both because the former often make the latter possible and because they frequently are more closely aligned with the state’s true interests. Machiavelli is far more circumspect about the connection between personal virtue and glory. For him, an interest in glory is constitutive of competent leadership and the objects of glory are necessarily exalted: success in war, high diplomacy, or institution building on a grand scale. Hobbes’ emphasis is more psychological – our need for glory, he claims, makes us dangerous enough to each other to require the social mediation offered by the government. Finally, we consider the connection Arendt draws between a “Greek” understanding of politics, where the private realm is subordinated to public “action,” and the emphasis on immortality and permanence fundamental to the idea of glory.

Chapter 6 reads Horace’s Odes as thoroughly place-based lyric poetry. The chapter begins by differentiating its approach from landscape and symbolic readings of place. It organizes an account of the Odes around the concepts of place and place attachment, familiar from the Eclogues. Horace represents dynamic experiences of specific localities, constituted by human and nonhuman beings. He anchors his poetry to particular locations, while also making those locations real-and-textual sites of Horatian poetry. In addition, Horace represents place as helping to produce and shape his poetry through tropes of lyric ecology and poetic reciprocity. The second half of the chapter complicates this place-based reading of Horace by attending to the pervasive theme of mobility in the Odes. It argues that Horace models a translocal poetics, in which locality is continually fashioned and refashioned through forms of translation and transport. Whereas forced movement in the Eclogues means the end of local dwelling and local song alike, for Horace mobility helps create both his local place attachments and a form of lyric that is place-based but not place-bound.

Chapter 1 examines how locality matters to the Eclogues, and how the poetry collection conceptualizes and constructs local place. In Eclogues 1 and 9, Vergil stresses the importance of local dwelling, representing multifaceted place attachments between individuals and their familiar homes. At the same time, in dramatizing the effects of land confiscations, Vergil probes the highly contingent nature of place, defined by unstable boundaries and through power relations. In addition to providing new readings of these particular poems, this chapter lays the foundation for the rest of the book by exploring the concept of local place and showing how a multifaceted examination of place making and place attachment offers a more nuanced and fuller reading than a focus on landscape, nature, or an opposition between town and country. The chapter then turns to an apparent problem with this place-based reading of the Eclogues: the poems’ ambiguous settings. Drawing on Theocritus and Cicero, it shows that the Eclogues are interested in the many intersections and cross-fertilizations between actual and fictional places. The poems construct local places, even if they cannot be located.

The fifth chapter covers the broad span of prose and poetic Latin literature that intends to instruct. But didactic works are never simply technical: even those that seem clunky to us were written with an eye to style, at least in parts. On the other hand, some of those that seem purely ornamental have in fact been found genuinely useful by some readers. We discuss the genre’s origins in Greek literature, and explore primary prose and poetic exemplars: Cato, Varro, Cicero, Lucretius, Vergil and Ovid.

The sixth chapter covers the origins of Roman historiography. As usual, they are in Greece, and as usual the Romans do something rather different with their model. From its origins in Cato down to what many considered its perfect form in Livy, the Romans were deeply interested in their own pasts. But history-writing was not as it is in the modern world: the ancient historian did little of what we would consider research. Here again, therefore, literary elements were to the fore: choosing the right kind of story to tell and telling it in the right way were the important things. Discussions of Ennius, Cato, Caesar, Sallust, Asinius Pollio, and Livy.

The third chapter covers the span of Roman oratory, from its first (lost) beginnings to the importance of Greek models, to its full flourishing in the work of Cicero. It emphasises throughout how central to Roman aristocratic life the art of good speaking was, how competitive an art form it was, and that the people were sophisticated auditors. Cicero necessarily dominates the discussion, but we try to capture the style of a few others, including Cato the Elder.

The fourth chapter introduces several ‘personal voices’, immediately complicating our understanding of how personally to take them: the authors discussed here seem to offer us an unmitigated look at their inner lives, but Latin literature does not, for the most part, work like that. Through discussions of Lucilius, in-depth treatment of Catullus, and exploration of the letters of Cicero, we show the public nature even of what seems most personal.

Chapter 3 begins the conceptual history of the nation where our current vocabulary originates, in classical Greece and Rome. It examines the conception of cultural-linguistic communities in the context of the two principal alternatives to the nation-state – city-state and empire. The chapter moves from Greek conceptions of ethnicity as depicted in Herodotus’ Histories to Cicero’s reflections on the relationship between national and political communities in the Roman Empire and concludes with an examination of the idea of the nation in the Vulgate, the late fourth-century translation of the Bible. The analysis shows that ethnos, gens, and natio referred to communities defined by descent, language, and geographical homeland but were not understood in a political sense. Moreover, Roman thinkers were not only acutely aware of the twofold loyalties to nation and polity; they also sought practical arrangements for accommodating diverse national groups within a single political order. The chapter discusses Roman ideas on citizenship, administrative subsidiarity, and legal pluralism.

Although there is no equivalent term for ‘essay’ in either Greek or Latin, ancient literature was instrumental to the development of the English essay in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries in three principal ways. First, some classical prose works provided stylistic models for early English essayists. Second, some ancient authors (Seneca in particular) processed information in a way that resonated with later essay writers; even if there were not ancient essayists, there were ancient ways of reading and writing that were fundamentally essayistic. And finally, the essay became one of the principal ways that readers gained access to ancient texts and ideas.

This chapter outlines a profile of Cicero as a literary historian, starting from the idea that his interest in the historical development of literature relates to a broader and more comprehensive interest in history and historiography. The analysis of some digressions about literary history in the dialogues of the fifties (De oratore and De legibus) and forties (Brutus and Tusculanae disputationes) shows that Cicero is interested in placing literary figures on a timeline according to a chronology that he constructs on the basis of synchronisms and other chronological schemes. His method is influenced by contemporary intellectual debates, in which he engages, that led to the production of antiquarian and chronographic works. Therefore, in addition to discussing Cicero’s literary history in light of his intellectual and historiographical interests, this chapter shows how the literary-historical dimension of his oeuvre attests to a lively contemporary context in which various forms of historical knowledge and writing flourished.

This contribution attempts to reconstruct the lost voices of Roman freed persons by focusing on the performative function of literary texts, rather than on their authorship. A study of the performative function of texts considers the contextual motivations of an author’s decision to cite, (re)phrase, and frame freed person’s words, and allows for a nuanced deconstruction of certain passages that might otherwise be labeled merely “elite discourse.” The texts chosen for this analysis are Cicero’s correspondence with Tiro, Tacitus’ historical works, and a letter written by the freed man Timarchides as quoted by Cicero in his oratio against Verres. Ultimately, the contribution’s goal is to suggest a methodological approach that – to some extent – rehabilitates literary texts as evidence for the freed person’s voice, and to argue that the value of literary sources when trying to recover this voice lies specifically in the tension between the public limits of freed persons’ (discursive) agency on the one hand, and the range and inventiveness of their self-representation in the context of their own or their patron’s trust network on the other.

This chapter shows that although the Epicureans claim that justice comes to be by agreements, they also argue for the existence of a robust virtue of justice. The first section of the chapter gives a general overview of the Epicurean theory of the virtues, while the second section examines in detail the passages in which Epicurean authors discuss the virtue of justice. The third and last section of the chapter turns to the precise relationship between contractual and aretaic justice on the Epicurean view. It argues that the former is a precondition for latter, as contractual justice specifies the content of aretaic justice and provides the developmental basis for aretaic justice to emerge.

This chapter discusses the question of the plurality of historical genres practiced by historians, and their function as a galvanizer of the classics. I proceed first (‘Taxonomies’) by analyzing the theories, definitions, and taxonomies of historical genres developed by ancient scholars such as Cicero and Dionysius to the modern taxonomical project by twentieth century scholars. In the second section (‘Developments’), I provide a brief history of the development of historical genres over time, focusing especially on the moment of their emergence, from ancient and medieval ethnographies, biographies, genealogies, and chronicles to modern monographs and papers. In the last section (‘Reappraisals’), I combine the premodern and modern approaches described in the first two sections, assuming postmodern theories to apply them to the discernment of the classic and the canon in history/historiography. To conclude, I propose an ethical purpose that make historians more attentive to the new developments and possibilities of historical genres, to better adapt the historical form to its content, making it compatible with respect and appreciation for the classics of the discipline. A more comprehensive and flexible approach to historical genres may facilitate the task of those who envisage a more creative and innovative historical writing and production.

Chapter 2 considers how Cicero responded to the model of the body politic proposed by Catiline. Rejecting the head of state metaphor, his oratory describes a civic healer capable of diagnosing and curing the ills of the Republic. This idea drew upon a well-established moralizing tradition that identified vice as a contagion that had infected the res publica. Whereas Varro, Sallust, and Lucretius employed such imagery to indict Rome’s governing class for its ambitio and avaritia, Cicero used it to justify the extralegal execution of the Catilinarian conspirators. Although he sought to protect a constitution under threat, his medically inspired language helped legitimize violence as a tool of political engagement. Identifying Clodius and his allies as new malignancies in need of amputation, he contributed to a corrosive cycle of civic conflict that culminated in Pompey’s sole consulship and Caesar’s dictatorship, two constitutional innovations justified as curative remedies. In the end, his rhetoric proved susceptible to appropriation by those less invested in collegial governance than he.

Chapter 1 begins with the Fable of the Belly, a foundational myth of civic organization that Roman thinkers dated to the Conflict of the Orders. Naturalizing the hierarchical distribution of power between the senate and people, the fable identified concord as the basis of civic health. Late Republican thinkers used this metaphor to explain the problem of discord, which seemed akin to the splitting or doubling of the res publica. While writers like Cicero, Sallust, and Varro crafted such imagery to lament the loss of civic unity, Catiline used it to justify the acquisition of personal power. Describing the senate and people as separate bodies with little in common, he proposed reworking the Republican constitution to better reflect their divide. He then laid claim to the role of the caput populi, which confirmed his aspirations to tyranny. His conspiracy would be put down in a matter of months, but the language he used to articulate his ambitions proved more difficult to extinguish.