The Curia Julia, the ancient Senate of Rome. It has been repaired and restored, but it is the original building, preserved because it became the Basilica of Sant’Adriano al Foro in the 7th century. It is not however the Senate Cicero knew: this one was built by Julius Caesar in 44 BC. The bold bronze doors are also not the originals: they were moved to the Basilica of St John Lateran by Pope Alexander VII in 1660.
MEN of another class, though crushed by debt, still expect to rule, still covet political power, nursing a hope that public unrest might bring honours they could never dream of in untroubled times.
Let it be clear to one and all, right now, that their quest is hopeless.
First of all, I am here, watching over and providing for the republic. Then, there is great heart and absolute single-mindedness among a huge majority of decent people, besides a substantial body of troops. Finally, there are immortal gods to bring help to this unconquerable people, this shining realm, this most beautiful city, against any wicked plot.
And even if these utter madmen had what they want in their wicked, criminal hearts, would they still hope that from the ashes of the city or the blood of the citizens they will rise up consuls, dictators, even kings? Do they not see that everything they covet will have to be given up to some runaway slave, or a gladiator?*
A runaway slave was liable to the death penalty (which is why St Paul sent Onesimus back to Philemon), so was very desperate and had nothing to lose. A gladiator had wealth, celebrity status and a streak of cruelty, an ideal post-revolutionary leader.
Précis
In 63 BC, Cicero used a speech to the Senate to address the kind of political meddler who thinks civic unrest might give him his big chance. Cicero reminded such men of his own vigilance, and that of the people and the gods, and cautioned them that some obscure but deperate opportunist always emerges, and takes power for himself. (58 / 60 words)
