Meta Description: Join Dr. David Noe and Dr. Jeff Winkle on the Ad Navseam Podcast as they investigate the brutal death of Marcus Tullius Cicero. Discover the history behind the Philippics, the betrayal at Formiae, and why the death of Rome’s greatest orator marked the end of the Republic.
Introduction: The Original Date of Infamy
Welcome back to the “vomitorium,” listeners! In Episode 14 of the Ad Navseam Podcast, hosts Dr. Jeff Winkle and Dr. David Noe are working late to serve up a dish that is definitely best served cold: Death.
Specifically, they are discussing the assassination of Marcus Tullius Cicero, the greatest orator of the Latin language and the last true defender of the Roman Republic. The episode drops around a significant date: December 7th. While Americans remember this as the date of the Pearl Harbor attack in 1941—a “date which will live in infamy,” according to FDR—it is also the anniversary of Cicero’s death in 43 BC.
As Dr. Winkle points out, this coincidence provides the perfect mnemonic device for students of history. The 7th of December marks a dual tragedy: one modern, and one ancient, both signaling the end of an era.
The Man Who Tried to Save the Republic
To understand why Cicero had to die, you have to understand who he was. Born in 106 BC in Arpinum, Cicero was a novus homo (“new man”), meaning no one in his family had ever held the consulship before him. Despite this disadvantage, his brilliance in the Latin language and law made him the “wonder of the schools.”
Cicero’s career was defined by his belief in the Roman Republic. He famously suppressed the Catilinarian Conspiracy in 63 BC, executing conspirators who threatened to overthrow the state. However, as the Republic crumbled under the weight of civil wars between warlords like Sulla, Marius, Pompey, and Caesar, Cicero found himself in a precarious position.
Dr. Noe shares a quote from biographer Manfred Fuhrmann, noting that Cicero was perhaps “deluded” in believing he could save the constitution through oratory alone. He believed that the system would correct itself, as it had in the past. But with the rise of Mark Antony and Octavian (the future Augustus), the era of speeches was over, and the era of the sword had begun.
The Feud: Cicero vs. Mark Antony
The catalyst for Cicero’s death was his venomous feud with Mark Antony. After the assassination of Julius Caesar on the Ides of March in 44 BC—an event Cicero called a “glorious banquet” to which he was sadly not invited—a power vacuum opened.
Cicero threw his support behind the young Octavian, hoping to use him to check Antony’s power. In the process, Cicero delivered a series of 14 scorching speeches against Antony known as the Philippics (named after Demosthenes’ speeches against Philip of Macedon).
In these speeches, Cicero didn’t just attack Antony’s policies; he attacked his character. He accused Antony of being bankrupt, of wearing a “womanly gown,” and of prostituting himself for power. As Dr. Noe explains, in the Roman legal system, character assassination was standard procedure. To prove someone was a criminal, you first had to prove they were a drunk or immoral.
Antony, however, didn’t laugh it off. When he formed the Second Triumvirate with Octavian and Lepidus, they drew up proscription lists—hit lists of political enemies. Octavian reportedly argued for three days to save Cicero, but eventually, he sold the old orator out.
The Assassination: Betrayed by a Philologist
The details of Cicero’s death are preserved by the historian Plutarch, and they are as tragic as they are cinematic.
Cicero fled to his villa at Formiae (modern Formia). While resting there, a flock of crows famously perched around his window, cawing tumultuously as a bad omen.
When the assassins arrived—led by a centurion named Herennius and a tribune named Popillius (whom Cicero had once defended in court for patricide)—Cicero’s loyal slaves tried to hide him. However, he was betrayed by a young man named Philologus, a freedman who had been educated by Cicero himself.
Dr. Winkle notes the bitter irony: Cicero, the master of words, was betrayed by a “philologist” (lover of words).
The End of the Orator
When the assassins caught up to his litter, Cicero ordered his servants to set him down. In a final act of stoic defiance, he clasped his chin with his left hand—a characteristic gesture—and looked steadfastly at his murderers. He stretched his neck out of the litter, and Herennius cut off his head.
But Antony wanted more than just his head. He ordered Herennius to cut off Cicero’s hands as well—the very hands that had written the Philippics.
The Aftermath: Fulvia’s Revenge
If the assassination was brutal, the aftermath was grotesque. The head and hands were taken back to Rome and displayed on the Rostra in the Forum, the very platform where Cicero had delivered his famous speeches.
The historian Cassius Dio records a horrific detail involving Antony’s wife, Fulvia. She had been a target of Cicero’s rhetoric for years (having previously been married to his enemy Clodius). When she saw Cicero’s head, she took it in her hands, spat on it, and then pulled out his tongue. She pierced the tongue with the golden pins from her hair, mocking the instrument that had caused her family so much pain.
It was a gruesome symbol: the Republic was dead, and free speech had been silenced by violence.
A Pilgrimage to Formiae
In a lighter segment, the hosts recount their own pilgrimage to the site of Cicero’s death in Formiae. Dr. Noe and Dr. Winkle visited the town in January 2016 with a group of students.
They describe the site as a sleepy seaside town on the Tyrrhenian Sea. After grabbing a difficult-to-find espresso, they hiked up the Appian Way to find the so-called Tomb of Cicero.
- The Tomb: A massive tower on a square base, standing about 80 feet tall.
- The Authenticity: While local tradition insists it is Cicero’s tomb, the hosts admit the archaeology is “sketchy” (or “sus,” as the kids say). The tower dates to a later period, though the base might be from Cicero’s time.
- The Experience: Regardless of its authenticity, standing in the place where the greatest Roman orator likely took his last breath was a deeply moving experience for two “Cicero guys”.
Conclusion: Cauliflower with a College Education
The death of Cicero was more than just the end of a man; as Fuhrmann wrote, it “symbolized the passing of republican freedom.” With him died the idea that words and laws could constrain power.
As the hosts wrap up this somber episode, they lighten the mood with a Gustatory Parting Shot from Mark Twain, reminding us that growth and change are possible (even if saving the Roman Republic wasn’t):
“Training is everything. The peach was once a bitter almond; cauliflower is nothing but cabbage with a college education.”
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Next Week: Join us as we explore the concept of Horror Vacui (Fear of Emptiness) and the famous Dipylon Vase.
Valete!
