THE TEACHERS CHAPTER EIGHT- Page 2

LATER THAT EVENING when his father Benjamin had retired to his study, Saul came to the door. "Father, might you have a few moments to speak with me?"

It was a useless question. Rabbi Benjamin always had time for his son. But he also had taught politeness, and respected the way his son asked. He motioned toward a chair near his desk.

Saul entered the room and settled into it comfortably and proceeded to repeat the conversation he had with Marcus at the lake. He described the picture of Cicero's glory vividly. Benjamin began to wonder how much the Roman friend had charmed his son with such descriptions. Saul concluded his story by telling his father of Marcus' excitement about going to study with Scaevola III, and the superior opinion Marcus had reflected about this teacher.

"Saul, it is time that I give you another picture of Cicero, and do it with love and honesty. If what I am about to tell you is said in a spirit of criticism, then I am guilty of one of the worst of sins. Moses' own sister Miriam criticized him out of jealousy and was stricken with leprosy. She may have died of that loathsome disease, had her brother not prayed, Heal her, God. You recall the story in the Book of Numbers?"

Saul nodded. He leaned forward on his elbows, eager for his father's wisdom.

"We are told in the scriptures to judge righteous judgment. In the Proverbs, it is written, There is a way that seems right to man, but the end thereof are the ways of death. Another proverb reads, The path of the just is as the shining light, that shineth more and more unto the perfect day. There is no question, Saul, that Cicero was a child of unusual talent. His poetry was indeed, excellently written, for a lad of his age. His discipline of himself to study, as admonished by his old teacher Scaevola, is to his full credit. I concede, Saul, that Scaevola trained some of the most successful men of his day. You note I said successful and not the best lawyers of his time. Julius Caesar commended Cicero for having learned all of the arts of his profession. I wonder if Caesar really meant artful, as in cunning. When Caesar crossed the Rubicon, Cicero wrote a most eloquent eulogy, which reads, as I recall it now: 'It is not the ramparts of the Alps, Nor the foaming flooding Rhine, But the arms and generalship of Caesar which I account our true barrier and shield against the Gauls and barbarous German tribes. Should the mountains be leveled with the plain and the rivers dried up, we would still hold our Italy fortified, Not by Nature's bulwarks, But by the exploits and victories of Caesar'. Son, do you think Cicero honest in this praise?"

Saul grinned. "I think, rather, a flatterer."

"Indeed, and a compelling one, right?"

Saul nodded.

"And a well-trained one?"

Saul was nodding and smiling vigorously, feeling the enrichment of his soul in the place of his earlier temptation. Nothing could match the wisdom of God for putting to rest high sounding nonsense.

"Son," Benjamin went on, "Julius Caesar responded to this eloquent flattery by saying, and I quote him now, 'If anyone is gracious, it is Cicero, but I doubt not that he hates me bitterly.' Even after making his decision in favor of a practice of law, Cicero had great struggles with his choice. Did Marcus tell you that?"

"No. He was rather carried away by his own ambition to be another rich and famous Cicero."

"I understand. Well, Cicero said the Forum was filled with those who delivered their orations but seemed woefully ignorant of science and jurisprudence. 'License,' he said, 'masquerading as liberty,' granted to those he called speechifiers, the right to speak to audiences in the Forum. 'These,' said Cicero, 'accepted the worst cases and actually amused their audiences by inventing, even in criminal cases, deceitful details.' Cicero heaped scorn on such, alluding to them as spouters and barkers. At this period in his life, Cicero made a rather startling admission. He said, 'It is a great mistake to consider the speeches we deliver before the courts to be a faithful expressions of our true opinions.'"

"Did Cicero actually admit that himself?" Saul breathed.

Benjamin nodded sagely, glad to see his words taking root. Turning his gaze away from Saul, the rabbi pondered his next statement carefully. "Saul, if you forget everything I am sharing with you this evening, do remember my next comments. It is proper that we speak of Cicero, for in many respects he shines as the brightest star of the Roman bar. But it is important that we hear him, who has been so eulogized, express with honesty his views, not just of the law, but of how it is applied. Shall we simply say, how the system works. It is very alarming to hear, but we must not close our ears. Perhaps there will be a time for you to share this with your friend Marcus. Cicero was actually making his speeches in the defense of Cluentius, when he said the speeches he was making in the court should not be considered expressions of his true convictions. He said, 'All these speeches emanate from the cause and the circumstances, rather than the man and the orator, for if the cause could speak for itself, there would be no need for a counsel. We are therefore called upon not to utter our own maxims or conviction of what we believe is truth, but to bring out everything of significance that the cause can furnish.' He said he knew how to weave a web to cloud the truth, and confuse the judges. He admitted readily that his orations at the bar were not always the convictions of his own heart. Cicero was the shining star of the day, a student trained by Scaevola." Looking directly at Saul, the rabbi asked, "Do you understand what Cicero is saying?"

"It seems that he is saying two things," replied Saul. "The lawyer must not make speeches that reflect the convictions of his own heart. But he is supposed to win his case."

"When you really comprehend the depth of what Cicero is saying, Saul, you will understand that Roman law is not about truth. Truth can be defended, but it requires a most skillful defender. By the same token, a skillful defense can let the guilty go free."

"So, what do we do?"

"First of all, we never forget that God is the only true judge. Human justice fails because it does not have the ability to know and judge the heart. Our judges and lawyers are themselves subject to corruption. Finally, as Ben-Lemuel said, 'trust God, and God alone.'"

"This helps me to see his point, father."

"That is good. Your grandfather was a wise man--not only for his time, but for ours, too. In Cicero we can also see the corrupting power of money. The old Roman law, the Laws of Cencius, forbade lawyers from accepting legal fees. Just as, at one time, doctors refused to accept money for their ministrations. This earlier time of Roman law, was referred to as the Glory of Roman Law. But lawyers, like doctors, wanted to gain wealth from their power. They soon found a way to circumvent this old law, and instead of stipulated fees they accepted gifts, honorariums. When Cicero, for example, prosecuted Verres on behalf of his client, Sicily, he was rewarded with herds of Sicilian cattle. Later, when he married Terentia who was 14 years of age, some said he desired most her dowry of 90,000 drachmas. When he reached the age of 60, he brought to his home, much to the displeasure of his wife Terentia, a 15-year-old girl named Publilia. He agreed, so he said, to be her guardian, but it was perhaps more truthfully the guardian of her inheritance, considered to be a real fortune. In spite of his age, he persuaded her to marry him, even though Terentia had been his wife for 32 years, and still remained loyal."

Benjamin stood and retrieved a book from a high shelf. Opening it carefully he located a quote on a particular page before continuing. "Following the assassination of Julius Caesar, Cicero fled his country. While in exile for 16 months, he wrote to his wife, Terentia. Here's a quote:

'I have wept over your letters until they are almost defaced with my tears; I am worn out with grief, my Terentia, and my own personal misfortunes torture my mind less than yours and those of our children. I am overcome as much by shame as anguish, and I blush to reflect that I was wanting in courage and resolution to the best of wives, and our beloved children.'

In conclusion he wrote:

Farewell, my Terentia; I seem to see you as I write, and I am overcome with tears. Farewell.'

Now what do you make of our orator? Is he repentant?"

"How can you tell, with a man like that?"

"Exactly. You cannot tell by his words, or his emotions. He has learned to mime them to perfection. But you can tell something true by what he did. After he wrote such letters to Terentia, he married young Publilia. The man was full of contradiction. For example, explaining how men could be happy, he once asked, 'Why should one fear death?' When his daughter Tullia died, however, he sank into the depths of despair. When her body was placed on the funeral pyre, he placed the obulus, the coin of passage in her mouth. It was the custom to pay the boatman Charon to carry a departed loved one across the River Styx to Hades. His former wife Terentia led the procession of mourners walking barefoot, her hair and clothes disheveled, and wailing greatly. When his youthful bride Publilia failed to show sufficient sorrow, Cicero in anger drove her and her mother from his home. In this state of mind, the man who wrote there need be no fear of death, said, "Now I am seized with the worst of maladies, the fear of death.'

"Now, son, it grieves me to dwell longer on the last days of Cicero," said Benjamin. "But I can conclude briefly with this painful scene. Following the assassination of Caesar, Mark Antony held power for a brief period. I remember it well, because I was a boy becoming a man in Tarsus, as you are now. He had not forgiven Cicero for the fearful diatribe he had launched against him, and against Cleopatra in the Senate, and now bent on revenge he was determined to destroy him. Fleeing from the wrath of Antony, Cicero joined his brother Quintus. They embraced each other and parted, seeing one another for the last time. Antony's men, bent on killing Cicero followed him to Gaieta. There they overtook him on a path in the woods. His servants were determined to fight to defend him but Cicero said, 'It is of no use.' In spite of his command, his old faithful servant Sallust threw himself across the body of his master to protect him, but the tribune named Popilius dispatched him with a single blow. Herennius looked on, and saw Antony's order fulfilled, as Cicero knelt before his executioner who severed his head and his hands. At the time of his death, Cicero is quoted as saying, 'Non ignoravi me mortalem genuisse.' or, 'I always knew I was mortal.' Then he added, 'From no matter what earthly spot, the journey to the lower regions is the same distance.'

"When the severed head and hands of Cicero were presented to Antony, he broke into laughter. He ordered the head of Rome's greatest orator, and the hand that had written such words of eloquence, to be nailed on the rostra of the Forum. He rewarded the assassin Popilius a million sesterces. And, as for Cicero's brother Quintus," Saul's father said with a deep sigh, "Antony's men also overtook him and killed both Quintus and his son. Cicero was indeed one of the most brilliant lawyers of his day, but my, what an end."

Rabbi Benjamin brought his remarks to his son Saul to a conclusion by saying, "I wish Marcus well, Saul, as he goes to study with Scaevola III. As your father, I prefer to have you a student of Gamaliel, the grandson of the Great Hillel, sometimes referred to as the Beauty of the Law. Not Roman law, but the Law of God."

With these words, Rabbi Benjamin walked Saul to the door, where he put out the oil lamp. "Goodnight, my son."