Source: Cicero's Three Books of Offices, or Moral Duties, trans. Cyrus R. Edmonds (London: Henry G. Bohn, Bohn's Classical Library), 1860 printing, via the Internet Archive (cicerosthreebook00ciceuoft)
Source URL: https://archive.org/details/cicerosthreebook00ciceuoft
Translator: Cyrus R. Edmonds
Public domain basis: Public-domain 19th-century translation. Only the three books of the Offices are included (the volume's Cato Major, Laelius, Paradoxes and Scipio's Dream are omitted). OCR text.

BOOK I.

MY SON MARCUS,

I. Although, as you have for a year been studying under Cratippus, and that, too, at Athens, you ought to be well fur nished with the rules and principles of philosophy, on account of the pre-eminent reputation both of the master and the city, the one of which can improve you by his learning, the other by its examples ; yet as I, for my own advantage, have always combined the Latin with the Greek, not only in philosophy but even in the practice of speaking, I recommend to you the same method, that you may excel equally in both kinds of compo sition. In this respect, indeed, if I mistake not, I was of great service to our countrymen ; so that not only such of them as are ignorant of Greek learning, but even men of letters, think they have profited somewhat by me both in speaking and rea soning.

Wherefore you shall study, nay, study as long as you desire, under the best philosopher of this age — and you ought to desire it, as long as you are not dissatisfied with the degree of your improvement ; but in reading my works, which are not very different from the Peripatetic — because we profess in common to be followers both of Socrates and Plato — as to the subject-matter itself, use your own judg ment; but be assured you will, by reading my writings, render your Latin style more copious. I would not have it supposed that this is said in ostentation ; for, while I yield the superiority in philosophy to many, if I claim to myself the province peculiar to an orator — that of speaking with propriety, perspicuity, and elegance — I seem, since I have spent my life in that pursuit, to lay claim to it with a certain degree of right.

Wherefore, my dear Cicero, I most earnestly recommend that you carefully peruse not only my Orations, but even my philosophical works, which have now nearly equaled them in extent ; for there is in the former the greater force of lan guage, but you ought to cultivate, at the same time, the equa ble and sober style of the latter. And, indeed, I find, that it has not happened in the case of any of the Greeks, that the same man has labored in both departments, and pursued both the former — that of forensic speaking — and the latter quiet mode of argumentation ; unless, perhaps, Demetrius Phalereus may be reckoned in that number — a refined reasoner, a not very animated speaker, yet of so much sweetness, that you might recognize the pupil of Theophrastus. How far I have succeeded in both, others must determine; certain it is that I have attempted both. Indeed, I am of opinion that Plato, had he attempted forensic oratory, would have spoken with copiousness and power ; and that had Demosthenes retained and repeated the lessons of Plato, he would have de livered them with gracefulness and beauty. I form the same judgment of Aristotle and Isocrates, each of whom was so pleased with his own pursuit that he neglected that of the other.

II. But having resolved at this time to write to you some what, and a great deal in time to come, I have thought proper to set out with that subject which is best adapted to your years and to my authority. For, while many subjects in phi losophy, of great weight and utility, have been accurately and copiously discussed by philosophers, the most extensive seems to be what they have delivered and enjoined concerning the duties of mankind ; for there can be no state of life, amid public or private affairs, abroad or at home — whether you transact any thing with yourself or contract any thing with another — that is without its obligations. In the due discharge of that consists all the dignity, and in its neglect all the dis grace, of life.

This is an inquiry common to all philosophers ; for where is the man who will presume to style himself a philosopher, and lay down no rules of duty? But there are certain

CHAP. ii. CICEEO'S OFFICES. 3 schools which, pervert all duty by the ultimate objects of good and evil which they propose. For if a man should lay down as the chief good that which has no connection with virtue, and measure it by his own interests, and not according to its moral merit ; if such a man shall act consist ently with his own principles, and is not sometimes influenced by the goodness of his heart, he can cultivate neither friendship, justice, nor generosity. In truth, it is impossible for the man to be brave who shall pronounce pain to be the greatest evil, or temperate who shall propose pleasure as the highest good.1

1 Cicero thus enters briefly but definitely into the most vexed, and yet the most fundamental, question of ethics : What is that which constitutes human conduct morally right or wrong ? In doing so, he plainly avows his own conviction that this great distinction is not dependent upon the mere expediency or inexpediency of the supposed conduct. The many eminent moral philosophers of modern times, and especially of our own country, may be comprehensively divided into the two classes of those who maintain, and those who oppose, the principle thus enunciated by Cicero. A very condensed view of the leading philosophers of these schools will not be uninstructive.

The most celebrated of the earlier opponents of the principle laid down by Cicero was Hobbes, of Malmesbury, who flourished in the 1 7th cen tury. His system takes no account of moral emotions whatever. He makes pure selfishness the motive and end of all moral actions, and makes religion and morals alike to consist in passive conformity to the dogmas and laws of the reigning sovereign.

Perhaps the best reply to this latter notion was given by Cicero him self, in his treatise, "De Legibus:" — "The impulse," ho says, "which directs to right conduct, and deters from crime, is not only older than the ages of nations and cities, but coeval with that Divine Being who sees and rules both heaven and earth. Nor did Tarquin less violate that eternal law, though in his reign there might have been no written law at Rome against such violence ; for the principle that impels us to right conduct, and warns us against guilt, springs out of the nature of things. It did not begin to be law when it was first written but when it origi nated, and it is coeval with the Divine Mind itself."

The most noted cotemporary opponents of these views were Cudworth and Dr. Clarke ; the sum of whose moral doctrine is thus stated in Mack intosh's "Progress of Ethical Philosophy: — "Man can conceive nothing without, at the same time, conceiving its relation to other things. He must ascribe the same law of perception to every being to whom he as cribes thought. He cannot, therefore, doubt that all the relations of all things to all must have always been present to the Eternal Mind. The relations in this sense are eternal, however recent the things may be be tween whom they subsist. The whole of these relations constitute truth ; the knowledge of them is omniscience. These eternal different relations of things involve a consequent eternal fitness or unfitness in the applica-

Though these truths are so self-evident that they require no philosophical discussion, yet they have been treated by ine elsewhere. I say, therefore, that if these schools are tion of things one to another, with a regard to which the will of God always chooses, and which ought likewise to determine the wills of all subordinate rational beings. These eternal differences make it fit and reasonable for the creatures so to act ; they cause it to be their duty, or lay an obligation on them so to do, separate from the will of G-od, and antecedent to any prospect of advantage or reward."

This system professes to base all morals upon pure reason, as applied to the fitness of things. A single passage from the work of Sir James Mackintosh points out the fallacy it involves. " The murderer who poisons by arsenic acts agreeably to his knowledge of the power of that substance to kill, which is a relation between two things as much as the physician who employs an emetic after the poison, acts upon his be lief of the tendency of that remedy to preserve life, which is another re lation between two things. All men who seek a good or bad end by good or bad means, must alike conform their conduct to some relation between their actions as means, and their object as an end. All the re lations of inanimate things to each other are undoubtedly observed as much by the criminal as by the man of virtue."

Lord Shaftesbury, a little later, made a considerable advance in ethical philosophy, by placing virtue in the prevalence of love for the system of which we are a part, over the passions pointing to our individual wel fare ; and still further, by admitting an intrinsic power in all, of judging of moral actions by a moral sense. In his general principles Leibnitz, to a great extent, concurs : though the latter appears to have lost himself in a refinement of the selfish system, by considering the pleasure con nected with the exercise of this virtuous benevolence as the object in the view of the benevolent man.

Malebranche places all virtue in " the love" of the universal order, as it eternally existed in the Divine reason, where every created reason contemplates it.

The metaphysician of America, designated by Robert Hall, "that pro digy of metaphysical acumen," Jonathan Edwards, places moral excel lence in the love to being (that is, sentient being) in general. This good will should be felt toward a particular being — first, in proportion to his degree of existence ("for," says he, "that which is great has more ex istence, and is further from nothing, than that which is little"); and, sec ondly, in proportion to the degree in which that particular being feels benevolence to others.

With the 18th century arose a far higher system of morals, under the auspices of the celebrated Dr. Butler. He makes CONSCIENCE the ruling moral power in the complex constitution of man, and makes its dictates the grand criterion of moral Tightness and wrongness. A few of his own words will explain the essence of his system. " Man," says he, "from his make, constitution, or nature, is, in the strictest and most proper sense, a law to himself; he hath the rule of right within, and what is wanting ia that he honestly attend to it. Conscience does not only offer

CHAP. ir. CICEEO'S OFFICES. 5 self-consistent, they can say nothing of the moral duties. Neither can any firm, permanent, or natural rules of duty be laid down, but by those who esteem virtue to be solely, itself to show us the way we should walk in, but it likewise carries its own authority with it, that it is our natural guide — the guide assigned us by the Author of our nature. It, therefore, belongs to our condition of being. It is our duty to walk in that path, and to follow this guide, without looking about to see whether we may not possibly forsake them with impunity." — "Butler's Sermons," Serm. 3.

"With David Hume, who was cotemporary with Butler, the principle against which Cicero protests assumes a systematic character. The doctrine of the utility of actions, as that which constitutes them virtuous, was set forth with the whole force of his genius and eloquence. How far Dr. Paley acquiesces in the principles of Hume, and how far, on the other hand, he may seem to have been a disciple of Butler, will be seen by two brief pass ages in his " Moral and Political Philosophy." A comparison of the two, and especially a consideration of his attribution of an abstract moral char acter to actions, will reveal the grand defect of Paley's ethical system. The most masterly refutation of that system that ever appeared is to be found in the ethical work of Jonathan Dymond, in which an irrefragable super structure of practical morals is built, chiefly on the foundation of Dr. Butler. The former of the passages referred to is as follows: — " We conclude that God wills and wishes the happiness of his creatures ; and this conclusion being once established, we are at liberty to go on with the rule built upon it, namely, ' that the method of coming at the will of G-od, concerning any action, by the light of nature, is to inquire into the tendency of that action to promote or diminish the general happiness.' So, then, actions are to be estimated by their tendency. Whatever is expedient is right. It is the utility of any moral rule alone which constitutes the obligation of it." The second is as follows : — " Actions, in the abstract, are right or wrong according to their tendency ; the agency is virtuous or vicious according to his design.'1 — " Paley's Moral philosophy," book 1, chaps. 5, and 6.

A still later philosopher, Jeremy Bentham, however, is the great apos tle of the principle of expediency as the foundation of ethics His theory, also, as the basis of moral obligation, may be learned by two character istic passages: — "Nature has placed mankind under the government of two sovereign masters, pain arid pleasure. It is for them alone to point out what we ought to do. as well as to determine what we shall do. On the one hand, the standard of right and wrong ; on the other, the chain of causes and effects are fastened to their throne." — " Beniham's Introd. of Morals," vol. I.e. 1. And again: — "But is it never then, from any other consideration than that of utility that we derive our notions of right and wrong ? I do not know ; I do not care. Whether moral sentiment can be originally conceived from any other sense than a view of utility, is one question : Whether, upon examination and reflection, it can, in point of fact, be persisted in and justified on any other ground, by a person re flecting within, is another. Both are questions of speculation ; it mat ters not, comparatively, how they are decided." — Id. vol. 1, c. 2.

In conclusion, the two most enlightened philosophers of modern times, or by those who deem it to be chiefly, desirable for its own sake. The teaching -of duties, therefore, is the peculiar study of the Stoics, of the Academics, and the Peripatetics ; because the sentiments of Aristo, Pyrrho, and Herillus, have been long exploded. Yet even those professors would have been entitled to have treated upon the duties of men, had they left us any distinction of things, so that there might have been a path open to the discovery of duty. We shall, therefore, upon this occasion, and in this inquiry, chiefly follow the Stoics, not as their expositors, but by drawing, as usual, from their sources, at our own option and judgment, so much and in such manner as we please.1 I therefore think proper, as my entire argument is on moral obligation, to define what a duty is, a definition which I am. surprised has been omitted

Dugald Stewart and Dr. Thomas Brown, have returned to the principle thus simply laid down by Cicero, in repudiation of the Epicurian theory, that expediency, or its tendency to produce happiness, is the moral cri terion of actions, and have supported it by an unexampled array of pro found and ingenious argument and eloquent illustration. A single re conciling principle maybe given in the words of Dugald Stewart: — "An action may be said to be absolutely right, when it is in every respect suitable to the circumstances in which the agent is placed ; or, in other words, when it is such as, with perfectly good intentions, under the guid ance of an enlightened and well-informed understanding, he would have performed. An action may be said to be relatively right, when the in tentions of the agent are sincerely good, whether his conduct be suitable to his circumstances or not. According to these definitions, an action may be right in one sense and wrong in another — an ambiguity in lan guage, which, how obvious soever, has not always been attended to by the writers on morals. It is the relative rectitude of an action which determines the moral desert of the agent ; but it is its absolute rectitude which determines its utility to his worldly interests and to the welfare of society. And it is only so far as relative and absolute rectitude coin cide, that utility can be affirmed to be a quality of virtue." — " Outlines of Moral Philosophy," part 2, sec. 6.

A similar truth is enunciated by Sir Thomas Brown, in his "Christian Morals," first published in 1716: — "Make not the consequence of virtue the ends thereof. Be not beneficent for a name or cymbal of applause, nor exact and just in commerce for the advantages of trust and credit, which attend the reputation of true and punctual dealing ; for these re wards, though unsought for, plain virtue will bring with her. To have other by-ends in good actions sours laudable performances, which must have deeper roots, motives, and instigations, to give them the stamp of virtues." — "Christian Morals," part 1, sec. 10.

1 Cicero, though generally adopting the principles of the Stoics, still professes himself an Eclectic philosopher, culling from all systems what

CHAP. in. CICERO'S OFFICES. 7 by Panaetius ; because every investigation which is rationally undertaken, concerning any subject, ought to set out with a definition, that it may be understood what is the subject of dis cussion.

III. All questions concerning duty are of two sorts. The first relates to the final good ; the second consists of those rules which are to regulate the practice of life in all its rela tions.1 Examples of the former are as follows : — Whether all duties are perfect in themselves ? Whether one duty is of more importance than another 1 together with other ques tions of the same nature. Now the rules for moral duties relate, indeed, to the final good ; but it is not so perceptible that they do, because they seem chiefly to refer to the regu lation of ordinary life, and of them we are to treat in this book.

But there is another division of duty : for one is called a mean duty, the other a perfect duty. If I mistake not, the complete or perfect duty is the same with what we call a direct one, and by the Greeks is called ttcnogd^uoe. As to that duty which is mean they call it xa#rjxov, and they thus define those terms. Whatever duty is absolute, that they call a perfect duty ; and they call that duty, for the perappeared to bear most distinctly the stamp of truth, but not submitting to the authority of any. Horace makes a similar profession 'respecting himself— •

"Nulliaa addictus juraro in verbi magistri, Quo me cumque rapit tempestas deferor hospes."

First. Epist— First Book, lines 14, 15.

"The Roman orator," says Sir. J. Mackintosh, "though in speculative questions he embraced that mitigated doubt which allowed most ease and freedom to his genius, yet in those moral writings where his heart was most deeely interested, followed the severest sect of philosophy, and became almost a Stoic." — "Progress of Ethical Philosophy."

1 Cicero, in his work on Moral Ends (De Finibus\ briefly defines ethics, or morality, as the ars vivendi, or doctrina bene vivendi ; that is, the art of living wisely. The terms ethics is derived from the Greek i]$LKrj, which, in signification, is equivalent with the Latin mos, mores, whence the adjective moralis, and the English word morals. Aristotle, in the second book of his " Ethics," addressed to his son, Nichomachus, says that moral science received the name of ethics from the word Mof, " habit, use, or custom," since it is from habitual experience, and the routine of customary conduct, that moral dispositions and principles are gradually formed and changed. Perhaps the definition of Dr. Thomas Brown can not be improved: "Ethics is the science which relates to our mutual affections, not simply as phenomena, but as they are virtuous or vicious, right or wrong."

formance of which a probable' reason can be assigned, a mean duty.1

In the opinion, therefore, of Pansetius, there is a threefold consideration for determining our resolution ; for men doubt whether the thing which falls under their consideration be of itself virtuous or disgraceful, and in this deliberation minds are often distracted into opposite sentiments. They then examine and deliberate whether or not the subject of their consideration conduces to the convenience or enjoyment of life, to the improvement of their estate and wealth, to their interest and power, by which they may profit themselves or their relations ; all which deliberation falls under the category of utility. The third kind of doubtful deliberation is, when an apparent utility seems to clash with moral rectitude ; for when utility hurries us to itself, and virtue, on the other hand, seems to call us back, it happens that the mind is distracted in the choice, and these occasion a double anxiety in delibera tion. In this division (although an omission is of the worst consequence in divisions of this kind), two things are omitted ; for we are accustomed to deliberate not only whether a thing be virtuous or shameful in itself, but, of t .70 things that are virtuous, which is the more excellent ? And, in like man ner, of two things which are profitable, which is the more profitable ? Thus, it is found that the deliberation, which he considered to be threefold, ought to be distributed into five divisions. We must, therefore, first treat of what is virtuous in itself, and that under two heads ; in like manner, of what is profitable; and we shall next treat of them compara tively.

IV. In the first place, a disposition has been planted by nature in every species of living creatures to cherish them selves, their life, and body ; to avoid those things that appear hurtful to them ; and to look out for and procure whatever

1 " It was thus that they (the Stoics) were obliged to invent a double morality ; one for mankind at large, from whom was expected no more than the /ca^/cov, which seems principally to have denoted acts of duty, done from inferior or mixed motives ; and the other, which they appear to have hoped from their ideal wise men, is Karopdufta, or perfect observance of rectitude, which consisted only in moral acts, done for mere reverence for morality, unaided by any feelings ; all which (without the exception of pity) they classed among the enemies of reason and the disturbers of the human soul,"— Sir, J, Mackintosh's "Progress of Ethical Philosophy."

CHAP. iv. CICERO'S OFFICES. 9 is necessary for their living, such as food, shelter, and the like. Now the desire of union for the purpose of procreating their own species is common to all animals, as well as a certain degree of concern about what is procreated. But the greatest distinction between a man and a brute lies in this, that the latter is impelled only by instinct, and applies itself solely to that object which is present and before it, with very little sensibility to what is past or to come ;* but

1 "It seems evident that animals, as well as men, learn many things from experience, and infer that the same events will always follow from the same causes. By this principle they become acquainted with the more obvious properties of external objects, and gradually, from their birth, treasure up a knowledge of the nature of fire, water, earth, stones, heights, depths, etc., and of the effects which result from their operation. The ignorance and inexperience of the young are here plainly distinguish able from the cunning and sagacity of the old, who have learned by long observation to avoid what hurt them, and to pursue what gave ease or pleasure. This is still more evident from the effects of disciph'ne and education on animals, who, by the proper application of rewards and punishments, may be taught any course of action, the most contrary to their natural instincts and propensities. Is it not experience which ren ders a dog apprehensive of pain when you menace him, of lift up the whip to beat him ? Is it not even experience which makes him answer to his name, and infer from such an arbitrary sound that you mean him rather than any of his fellows, and intend to call him when you pronounce it in a certain manner, and with a certain tone and accent ?

"In all these cases we may observe, that the animal infers some fact beyond what immediately strikes his senses ; and that this inference ia altogether founded on past experience, while the creature expects from the present object the same consequences which it has always found in its observation to result from similar objects.

"But though animals learn many parts of their knowledge from obser vation, there are also many parts of it which they derive from the origi nal hand of Nature, whicli much exceed the share of capacity they pos sess, on ordinary occasions, and in which they improve little or nothing by the longest practice and experience. These we denominate INSTINCTS, and are so apt to admire as something very extraordinary and inexpli cable by all the disquisitions of human understanding. But our wonder will perhaps cease to diminish when we consider that the experimental reasoning itself, which we possess in common with beasts, and on which the whole conduct of life depends, is nothing but a species of instinct, or mechanical power, that acts in us unknown to ourselves, arid in its chief operations is not directed by any such relations or comparison of ideas as are the proper objects of our intellectual faculties. Though the instinct be different, yet still it is an instinct which teaches a man to avoid tho fire, as much as that which teaches a bird, with such exactness, the art of incubation, and the whole economy and order of its nursery."— Hume's " Inquiry concerning the Human Understanding," sec. 9.

man, because endowed with reason, by which he discerns con sequences, looks into the causes of things and their progress, and being acquainted, as it were, with precedents, he compares their analogies, and adapts and connects the present with what is to come. It is easy for him to foresee the future direction of all his life, and therefore he prepares what is necessary for pass ing through it.

Nature, likewise, by the same force of reason, conciliates man to man, in order to a community both of language and of life : above all, it implants in them a strong love for their offspring ; it impels them to desire that companies and societies should be formed, and that they should mingle in them ; and that for those reasons, man should take care to provide for the supply of clothing and of food ; and that not only for himself, but for his wife, his children, and for all whom he ought to hold dear and to protect. This is an affec tion which arouses the spirit and makes it more strenuous for action.

The distinguishing property of man is to search for and to follow after truth. Therefore, when relaxed from our necessary cares and concerns, we then covet to see, to hear, and to learn somewhat ; and we esteem knowledge of things either obscure or wonderful to be the indispensable means of living happily.1 From this we understand that truth, simplicity, and candor, are most agreeable to the nature of mankind. To this passion for discovering truth, is added a desire to direct ; for a mind, well formed by na ture, is unwilling to obey any man but him who lays down rules and instructions to it, or who, for the general advan tage, exercises equitable and lawful government. From this

1 " Nature has made it delightful to man to know, disquieting to him to know only imperfectly, while any thing remains in his power that can make his knowledge more accurate or comprehensive ; and she has done more than all this : she has not waited till we reflect on the pleasure which we are to enjoy, or the pain which we are to suffer. It is suffi cient that there is something unknown which has a relation to some thing that is known to us. We feel instantly the desire of knowing this too. "We have a desire of knowledge which nothing can abate ; a desire that in some greater or less degree extends itself to every thing which we are capable of knowing, and not to realities merely but to all the extravagances of fiction." — Dr. Thomas Brown's "Lectures on the Phi losophy of the Human Mind."

CHAP. v. CICERO'S OFFICES. 11 proceeds loftiness of mind, and contempt for worldly inter ests.1

Neither is it a mean privilege of nature and reason, that man is the only animal who is sensible of order, of decency, and of propriety, both in acting and speaking. In like manner, no other creature perceives the beauty, the gracefulness, and the harmony of parts, in those objects which are discerned by the sight. And analogous perception to which nature and reason convey from the sight to the mind ; and consider that beauty, regularity, and order in counsels and actions should be still more preserved. She is cautious not to do aught that is inde cent or effeminate, or to act or think wantonly in any of our deliberations or deeds. The effect and result of all this produces that honestum which we are now in search of; that virtue which is honorable even without being ennobled ; and of which we may truly say, that even were it praised by none it would be commendable in itself.

V. My Son Marcus, you here perceive at least a sketch, and, as it were, the outline of virtue ; which, could we perceive her with our eyes,2 would, as Plato says, kindle a wonderful love of wisdom. But whatever is virtuous arises from some one of those four divisions : for it consists either in sagacity and the perception of truth ; or in the preservation of human society, by giving to every man his due, and by observing the faith of contracts ; or in the greatness and firmness of an elevated and unsubdued mind ; or in observing order and regularity in all our words and in all our actions, in which consists moderation and temperance.

1 The same sentiment, with reference to the love of knowledge, ia more beautifully expressed by Virgil: —

" Felix qui potuit rerum cognoscere causas; Atque metus omnes et inexorabile fatum Subjecit pedibus, strepitumque Acherontis avari."

Georg. II. lines 490-492.

2 Our "bodily eyes.] " This is a fine and a celebrated sentiment of Plato. 'Oipt£ (says he, in his Phedro), TJ/J.CV o^vrarrj TUV 6ia rov acjfiaro^ epxerat alodijaeuv, 77 ippovjj elf OVK opdrai, detvovg -yap dv Trapeixetv gpurae, el TOIOVTOV iavrrjp ivapyec elduAov Trapeixero el^ otpt^ lov : ' Our eyesight (says he), is the most exquisite of our senses, yet it does not serve us to discern wisdom ; if it did, what a glow of love would she kindle within us.' The reader may, perhaps, observe with what propriety Cicero ap plies to virtue what Plato says of wisdom." — Guthrie.

Though these four divisions are connected and interwoven with one another, yet certain kinds of duties arise from each of them. As, for instance, in that part which I first de scribed, and under which I comprehended sagacity or wisdom, consists the search after and discovery of truth ; and this is the characteristic function of that virtue : for the man who is most sagacious in discovering the real truth in any subject, and who can, with the greatest perspicacity and quickness, both see and explain the grounds of it, is justly esteemed a man of the greatest understanding and discernment. From hence it follows that truth is, as it were, the subject-matter which this faculty handles, and on which it employs itself. As to the other three virtues, they necessarily consist in acquir ing and preserving those things with which the conduct of life is connected, in order to preserve the community and relations of mankind, and to display that excellence and greatness of soul which exhibits itself as well in acquiring resources and advantages both for ourselves and for our friends, as, still more concpicuously, in properly disregarding them. As to order, resolution, moderation, and the like, they come into that rank of virtues which require not only an operation of the mind, but a certain degree of personal activity ; for it is in observing order and moderation in those things which constitute the objects of active life, that we shall preserve virtue and de cency.

VI. Now, of the four divisions under which I have ranged the nature and essence of virtue, that which consists in the knowledge of truth principally affects the nature of man. For all of us are impelled and carried along to the love of knowledge and learning, in which we account it glorious to excel, but consider every slip, mistake, ignorance, and de ception in it, to be hurtful and shameful. In this pursuit, which is both natural and virtuous, two faults are to be avoided. The first is, the regarding things which we do not know as if they were understood by us, and thence rashly giving them our assent.1 And he that wishes, as every man ought to wish, to avoid this error, must devote both his time and his industry to the study of things. The other fault is, that some people bestow too much study and .pains

1 " The highest perfection of human reason is to know that there is an infinity of truth beyond its reach." — Pascal.

CHAP. 7ii. CICERO'S OFFICES. 13 upon tilings that are obscure,1 difficult, and even immaterial in themselves. When those faults are avoided, all the pains and care a man bestows upon studies that are virtuous in them selves, and worthy of his knowledge, will be deservedly com mended. Thus we have heard how Caius Sulpicius2 excelled in astronomy, and Sextus Pompeius, to my own knowledge, in mathematics ; many also in logic, and more in the civil law, all which are arts that serve to investigate truth, in the pursuit of which our duty forbids us to be diverted from transacting our business, because the whole glory of virtue consists in ac tivity. Yet this is often intermitted, and frequent are our re turns to our studies. Then there is an incessant working of the mind, which, without our taking pains, is sufficient to keep us in the practice of thinking. Now, all our thoughts, and every motion of the mind, should be devoted either to the forming of plans for virtuous actions, and such as belong to a good and happy life, or else to the pursuits of science and knowledge. I have now treated of at least the first source of duty.

VII. Now, as to the other three, the most extensive system is that by which the mutual society of mankind, and, as it were, the intercourse of life, is preserved. Of this there are two parts : justice, in which virtue displays itself with the most distinguished luster, and from which men are termed good ; and allied to this, beneficence, which may likewise be termed benevolence, or liberality. Now, the chief province of justice is, that no person injure another, unless he is pro-

1 " The emperor Antoninus very finely thanks the gods, that when ho applied to the study of philosophy he was taught by Junius Rusticus to avoid this error. Tov EI<; iavrbv OTTUC iridv/HTiaa tpiAoaoQias, pr) Ifj-TTEGE'iv elg Tiva co(f>i<7rijv [irid£ aTrottadicai enl Toi>£ cvyypatyeif 7} cvTi^oji'jfjLOvg dvahvsiv, $ Kepi T& /zerecjpoAoyi/cd Karaytveadai : ' That when I applied my mind to the study of philosophy, I did not meet with a sophist for my instructor ; neither did I spend my time in reading mean authors, nor was I embarrassed by the useleea studies of astrology." — Guthrie.

2 " "We have, in the Roman history, a remarkable story of this noble man, by which we may see the excellent effects of learning in a man of consideration, who knows how to time it well. For we are told, that while he served against the Macedonians, under Julius ^Emilius, he fore told to the Roman soldiers an eclipse, and explained its causes, and thereby prevented the consternation they otherwise would have fallen into, and which, seizing the enemies, they were easily routed by the Romans." — Guthrie.

yoked1 by suffering wrong ; next, that public property be ap propriated to public, and private to individual, use.

Now, by nature no property is private, but dependent either on ancient possession (as when men formerly came into unoc cupied territories) ; or victory (as when they have taken posses sion of it in war) ; or public constitution, contract, terms, or lot. By those, the land of Arpinum is regarded as belonging to the Arpinates ; the Tusculan, to the Tusculans. The like division holds with regard to matters of private property. Thus, as every man holds his own, each should possess that. portion which fell to his share of those things that by nature were common ; and it follows, that no man can covet another's property without violating the laws of human society.2

But (as has been strikingly said by Plato) we are not born for ourselves alone, and our country claims her share, and our friends their share of us ; and, as the Stoics hold,

1 " Dictat autem ratio liomini (says Gh'otius, de Jure Belli ac Pads, lib. 2, cap. 20, § 5), nihil agendum quod noceatur liomini alteri, nisi, id bonum habeat aliquid propositum. In solo autem inimici dolore, ita nude spectato, nullum est bonum nisi falsum et imaginarium : Now, reason tells men that we should do no hurt to another man, unless it is to serve some good end, for, from the mere pain of another person, there can result no good but what is mistaken and imaginary." — Vidplura in loc. cit.

2 This subject has been extensively investigated by modern moralists and jurists. Paley, in one of his chapters on property, adduces and com ments upon the principal theories that have been advanced. Those of Mr. Locke, and of Paley himrelf, may be briefly given in the words of the latter. " Each man's limbs and labor are his own exclusively ; by occu pying a piece of ground a man inseparably mixes his labor with it, by which means the piece of ground becomes thenceforward his own, as you can not take it from him without depriving him at the same time of something which is indisputably his." This is Mr. Locke's solution. Dr. Paley adds: "The real foundation of our right (i. e., to private property) is THE LAW or THE LAND. It is the intention of God that the produce of the earth be applied to the use of man ; this intention can not be ful filled without establishing property; it is consistent, therefore, with his will that property be established. The land can not be divided into separate property without leaving it to the law of the gountry to regu late that division ; it is consistent, therefore, with the same will, that the law should regulate the division ; and, consequently, ' consistent with the will of God,' or 'right,' that I should possess that share which these regulations assign me. By whatever circuitous train of reasoning you attempt to derive this right, it must terminate at last in the will of God ; the straightest, therefore, and shortest way of arriving at this will, is the best. — Paley's " Moral and Political Philosophy," book 3, chap. 4.

CHAP. vin. CICERO'S OFFICES. 15 all that the earth produces is created for the use of man, so men are created for the sake of men, that they may mutually do good to one another ; in this we ought to take nature for our guide, to throw into the public stock the offices of general utility by a reciprocation of duties ; sometimes by receiving, sometimes by giving, and sometimes to cement human society by arts, by industry, and by our resources.

Now the foundation of justice is faithfulness, which is a perseverance and truth in all our declarations and in all our promises. Let us therefore (though some people may think it over nice) imitate the Stoics, who curiously examine whence terms are derived, and consider that the word fides, or faithful ness, is no other than a performance of what we have promised.1 But there are two kinds of injustice ; the first is of those who offer an injury, the second of those who have it in their power to avert an injury from those to whom it is offered, and yet do it not. For if a man, prompted either by anger or any sudden perturbation, unjustly assaults another man, such a one seems as it were to lay violent hands on one's ally ; and the man who does not repel or withstand the injury, if he can, is as much to blame as if he deserted the cause of his parents, his friends, or his country.

Those wrongs, however, which are inflicted for the very pur pose of doing an injury, often proceed from fear ; as for instance, when a man who is contriving to injure another is afraid, unless he executes what he is meditating, that he may himself sustain some disadvantage ; but the great incentive to doing wrong is to obtain what one desires, and in this crime avarice is the most pervading motive.

VIII. Now riches are sought after, both for the necessary purposes of life and for the enjoyment of pleasure. But in men of greater minds the coveting of money is with a view to power and to the means of giving gratification. As M. Crassus lately used to declare, that no man who wanted to have a direction in the government had money enough, unless by the interest of ' it he could maintain an army. Mag nificent equipages, likewise, and a style of living made up of elegance and abundance give delight, and hence the desire for money becomes boundless. Nor indeed is the i Fides, qui&fiat quod dictum est mere desire to improve one's private fortune, without injury to another, deserving of blame ; but injustice must ever be avoided.

But the main cause why most men are led to a forgetfulness of justice is their falling into a violent ambition after empire, honors, and glory. For what Ennius observes that

" No social bonds, no public faith remains Inviolate ;"

has a still more extensive application ; for where the object of ambition is of such a nature as that several can not obtain pre eminence, the contest for it is generally so violent that nothing can be more difficult than to preserve the sacred ties of society. This was shown lately in the presumption of C. CaBsar, who, in order to obtain that direction in the government which the wildness of his imagination had planned out, violated all laws, divine and human. But what is deplorable in this matter is, that the desire after honor, empire, power, and glory, is gener ally most prevalent in the greatest soul and the most exalted genius j1 for which reason every crime of that sort is the more carefully to be guarded against. But in ever species of injust ice it is a very material question, whether it is committed through some agitation of passion, which commonly is short lived and temporary, or from deliberate, prepense, malice ; for those things which proceed from a short, sudden fit, are of slighter moment than those which are inflicted by forethought and preparation. But enough has been said concerning inflict ing injury.

IX. Various are the causes of men omitting the defense of others, or neglecting their duty toward them. They are either unwilling to encounter enmity, toil, or expense ; or, perhaps, they do it through negligence, listlessness, or lazi ness ; or they are so embarrassed in certain studies and pur suits, that they suffer those they ought to protect to be ne glected. Hence we must take care lest Plato's observation with respect to philosophers should be falsified: "That they

1 Milton thus expresses a similar idea :

" Fame is the spur which the clear spirit doth raise (That last infirmity of noble mind) To scorn delights and live laborious days." — Lycidas.

CHAP. ix. CICERO'S OFFICES. 17 are men of integrity, because they are solely engaged in the pursuit of truth, and despise and neglect those considerarations which others value, and which mankind are wont to contend for among themselves." For, while they abstain from hurting any by the infliction of injury, they indeed assert one species of honesty or justice, but they fail in another ; be cause, being entangled in the pursuits of learning, they abandon those they ought to protect. Some, therefore, thick that they would have no concern with the government unless they were forced to it ; but still, it would be more just that it should be done voluntarily ; for an action which is intrinsically right is only morally good in so far as it is voluntary.1 There are others who, either from a desire to improve their private for tune, or from some personal resentments, pretend that they mind their own affairs only that they may appear not to do wrong to another. Now such persons are free from one kind of injustice, but fall into another ; because they abandon the fellowship of life by employing in it none of their zeal, none of their labor, none of their abilities. Having thus stated the two kinds of dishonesty or injustice, and assigned the motives for each kind, and settled previously the considerations by which justice is limited, we shall easily (unless we are extremely selfish) be able to form a judgment of our duty on every occa sion.

For, to concern ourselves in other people's affairs is a delicate matter. Yet Chremes, a character in Terence, thinks, that there is nothing which has a relation to mankind in which he has not a concern.2 Meanwhile, because we have the quicker perception and sensation of whatever happens favorably or untowardly to ourselves than to others, which we see as it were at a greater distance, the

1 The principle of the spontaneousness and intelligence of all actions being essential to their moral character, seems, if it be admitted, at once fatal to those numerous schemes of ethics, which make the moral char acter of conduct to depend on its essential utility — inasmuch as on the latter showing a morally good action may not only be performed under compulsion, but even with the deliberate and sole intention of producing the opposite results, namely, those which are in every aspect the most mischievous

2 Heautontimorumenos, Act I., Scene 1 : Homo sum: humani nihil a me alienum puto. Augustin, who was made bishop of Hippo, A.D. 395, mentions the universal applause with which this admirable sentiment was judgment we form of them is very different from what we form of ourselves. Those therefore are wise monitors who teach us to do nothing of which we are doubtful, whether it is honest or unjust ; for whatever is honest manifests itself by its own luster, but doubt implies the entertainment of in justice.

X. But occasions frequently happen in which those duties which are most worthy of an honest, and of such as we call a worthy man, are altered and changed to their contraries. For example, to return a deposit, to perform a promise, and other matters that are relative to truth and honesty, sometimes alter so that it is just they should not be observed ; for it is proper to have recourse to those fundamentals of honesty which I laid down in the commencement : in the first place, that of injuring no person ; and, secondly, that of being subservient to the public good. When these conditions are altered by cir cumstances, the moral obligation, not being invariably identical, is similarly altered.

A promise, as a paction, may happen to be made, the performance of which may be prejudicial either to the party promising, or to the party to whom the promise is made. For (as we see in the play) had not Neptune performed his promise to Theseus, the latter would not have been bereaved of his son Hippolytus ; for it is recorded, that of three wishes to be granted him, the third, which he made in a passion, was the death of Hippolytus, which, having been granted, he sunk into the most dreadful distress. Therefore, you are not to perform those promises which may be prejudicial to the party to whom you promise, nor if they may be more hurtful to you than they can be serviceable to him. It is inconsistent with our duty that the greater obligation should be postponed to the less. For instance, suppose you should promise to appear as the advocate of another person while his cause is depending : now, if your son was to be seized violently ill, in the mean time, it would be no breach of duty received in the theater. He himself has left us an expression of the same idea in the following words :

" Omniahomo est omni homini proximus, nee ulla cogitanda est longinquitas generis ubi est natura communis."

'^Every man is most closely connected with his every fellow man, nor should any distance of relationanip ^nter into consideration where there is a common nature."

CHAP. x. CICERO'S OFFICES. 19 in you not to perform what you promise ; the other person would rather depart from his duty if he should complain that he had been abandoned. Who, then, does not see that a man is not bound by those promises which he makes either when coerced by fear,1 or seduced by deceit 1 Many such promises are cancelled by the edict of the praetor's court, some by the laws ; for very often wrongs arise through a quirk, and through a too artful but fraudulent construction of the law. Hence, " the rigor of law is the rigor of injustice," is a saying that has now passed into a proverb. Many injuries of this kind happen even in state affairs : thus, when a general has con cluded a truce with his enemy for thirty days, yet ravaged that enemy's territories every night, because the truce was only for so many days, not for the nights. Nor, indeed, if it is true, is the conduct of our countryman, Quintus Fabius Labeo, to be approved of, or whoever he was (for I have the story only by report), who, being appointed an arbiter by the senate to settle a boundary between the people of JSTola and those of Naples, counseled each of those people separately to do nothing covet ously, and that each ought rather to draw back than advance. Both of them taking this advice, a space of unoccupied ground was left in the middle. He, therefore, adjudged to each people the boundary to which they had confined them selves, and all that was in the middle to the people of Rome. This was not to give judgment, but to cheat ; wherefore we ought to avoid all chicane of that kind in every transaction.2

1 See conclusion of note, pp. 19, 20.

2 "With these imperfect, and in some respects most faulty, notions touching the obligations of promises, it will be instructive to compare the principles of modern moralists. The following is a brief digest of these principles as given by Paley (" Moral and Political Philosophy," book 3, chap. 5) : " They who argue from innate moral principles, sup pose a sense of the obligation of promises to be one of them ; but with out assuming this, or any thing else, without proof, the obligation to per form promises may be deduced from the necessity of such a conduct to the well-being, or the existence, indeed, of human society.

" Men act from expectation. Expectation is, in most cases, determined by the assurances and engagements which are received from others. If no dependence could be placed upon these assurances, it would be im possible to know what judgment to form of many future events, or how to regulate our conduct with respect to them. Confidence, therefore, in promises is essential to the intercourse of human life ; because without it the greatest part of our conduct would proceed upon chance. But there could be no confidence in promises, if men were not obliged to

XL Certain duties are also to be observed, even toward those who have wronged you ; for there is a mean even in perform them ; the obligation, therefore, to perform promises is essential to the same ends, and in the same degree. "Where the terms of promise admit of more senses than one, the promise is to be performed ' in that sense in which the promiser apprehended at the time that the promisor received it.'^' Dr. Paley sums up his argument in the following words: "From the account we have given of the obligation of promises, it is evident that this obligation depends upon the expectations which we knowingly and voluntarily excite. Consequently, any action or conduct toward another, which we are sensible excites expectations in that other, is as much a promise, and creates as strict an obligation, as the most express assurances." The exceptions which Paley admits to the obliga tion of promises are the following ; " 1. Promises are not binding where the performance is impossible. 2. Promises are not binding where the performance is unlawful. 3. Promises are not binding where they con tradict a former promise. 4. Promises are not binding before accept ance ; that is, before notice given to the promisee. 5. Promises are not binding which are released by the promisee. And, 6. Erroneous prom ises are not binding in certain cases ; as where the error proceeds from the mistake or misrepresentation of the promisee ; or, secondly, "When the promise is understood by the promisee to proceed upon a certain supposition, or when the promiser apprehended it to be so understood, and that supposition turns out to be false ; then the promise is not bind ing." It is only necessary to cite another passage with reference to ex torted promises. It seems obvious here to remark, that in the case of promises, or even declarations, unjustly extorted — as by the highway man or the inquisitor — a doubt may very naturally arise, whether the absence of all right on the part of the extorting party, does not involve a correlative freedom on the part of the victim, to declare the truth, or to fulfill the promise. This point Dr. Paley leaves (unnecessarily, as I think), undecided. "It has," he says, "long been controverted among moralists, whether promises be binding which are extorted by violence or fear. The obligation of all promises results, we have seen, from the necessity or the use of that confidence which mankind repose in them. The question, therefore, whether these promises are binding, will depend upon this : whether mankind, upon the whole, are benefited b}7 the con fidence placed on such promises? A highwayman attacks you, and being disappointed of his booty, threatens or prepares to murder you. You promise, with many solemn asseverations, that if he will spare your life he shall find a purse of money left for him at a place appointed. Upon the faith of this promise he forbears from further violence. Now, your life was saved by the confidence reposed in a promise extorted by fear ; and the lives of many others may be saved by the same. This is a good consequence. On the other hand, confidence in promises like these greatly facilitates the perpetration of robberies ; they may be made the instruments of almost unlimited extortion. •This is a bad consequence ; and in the question between the importance of these opposite conse quences, resides the doubt concerning the obligations of such promises."

CHAP. XL CICERO'S OFFICES. 21 revenge and punishments. Nay, I am not certain whether it is not sufficient for the person who has injured you to repent of the wrong done, so that he may never be guilty of the like in future, and that others may not be so forward to offend in the same manner.1 Now, in government the laws of war are to be most especially observed ; for since there are two manners of disputing, one by debating, the other by fighting, though the former characterizes men, the latter, brutes, if the former can not be adopted, recourse must be had to the latter. Wars, therefore, are to be undertaken for this end, that we may live in peace without being injured ; but when we obtain the victory, we must preserve those enemies who behaved without cruelty or inhumanity during the war : for example, our forefathers received, even as members of their state, the Tuscans, the JEqui, the Volscians, the Sabines, and the Hernici, but utterly destroyed Carthage and Numantia. I am unwilling to mention Corinth ; but I believe they had some object in it, and particularly they were induced to destroy it, lest the advantages of its situation should invite the inhabitants to make war in future times. In my opinion, •we ought always to consult for peace, which should have in it nothing of perfidy. Had my voice been followed on this head, we might still have had some form of government (if not the best), whereas now we have none. And, while we are bound to exercise consideration toward those whom we

1 "The insolence and brutality of anger, when we indulge its fury without check or restraint is, of all objects, the most detestable. But we admire that noble and generous resentment which governs its pur suit of the greatest injuries, not by the rage which they are apt to ex cite in the breast of the sufferer, but by the indignation which they naturally call forth in that of the impartial spectator ; which allows no word, no gesture, to escape it beyond what this more equitable senti ment would dictate ; which never, even in thought, attempts any greater vengeance, nor desires to inflict any greater punishment, than what every indifferent person would rejoice to see executed." — Smith's "Moral Sentiments," part 1, chap. 5.

" The nobleness of pardoning appears, upon many occasions, superior even to the most perfect propriety of resenting. "When either proper acknowledgments have been made by the offending party, or even with out any such acknowledgments, when the public interest requires that the most mortal enemies should unite for the discharge of some import ant duty, the man who can cast away all animosity, and act with con fidence and cordiality toward the person who had most grievously offended him, seems iustly to merit our highest admiration." — Id, part 6, section 3.

have conquered by force, so those should be received into our protection who throw themselves upon the honor of our general, and lay down their arms, even though the battering rams should have struck their walls. In which matter justice was cultivated with so much care among our countrymen, that it was a custom among our ancestors that they who received under their protection cities, or nations conquered in war, be came their patrons.

Now, the justice of war was most religiously pointed out by the fecial law of the Romans. From this it may be understood that no war is just unless it is undertaken to reclaim property,1 or unless it is solemnly denounced and proclaimed beforehand. Popilius, as general, held a province where Cato's son served in his army. It happened that Popilius thought proper to disband one legion ; he dismissed, at the same time, Cato's son, who was serving in that legion. When, however, through love of a military life, he remained in the army, his father wrote to Popilius, that if he suffered him to continue in the service he should, for a second time bind him by the military oath ; because the obligation of the former having been annulled, he could not lawfully fight with the enemy.

So very strict was their observance of laws in making war. There is extant a letter of old Cato to his son on this occasion, in which he writes, " That he heard he had got his discharge from the consul, while he was serving as a soldier in Macedonia, during the war with Perseus. He, therefore, en joins him to take care not to enter upon action ; for he declares that it is not lawful for a man who is not a soldier to fight with an enemy.

XII. And, indeed, there is another thing that I should observe, that he who ought properly be termed perduellis, that is, a stubborn foe, is called a hostis, and thereby the softness of the appellation lessens the horror of the thing ; for by our ancestors he was called hostis whom we now call a

1 To reclaim property, etc.] " The formal and public declaration of war was an indispensable preliminary to it among the Romans. This declar ation was either conditional or simple. The conditional was when it was made cum rerum repetitions, which sometimes not only implied satisfac tion for property but punishment upon the offender. A simple declara tion was without any condition, as when an injury could not be repaired ; or when war was first declared by the other party." — See Grotius, lib 3. chap. 3. De Jure Belli, etc.—Guthrie.

CHAP. xm. CICERO'S OFFICES. 23 stranger. This the twelve tables demonstrate : as in the words, " a day appointed for the hostis to plead ;" and again, "a Roman's right of property, as against a hostis, never terminates." What can exceed the gentleness of this, to call those with whom you were at war by so soft an appellation ? It is true that length of time has affixed a harsher significa tion to this word, which has now ceased to be applied to the stranger, and remains peculiar to him who carries arms agains us.

Meanwhile, when we fight for empire, and when we seek glory in arms, all those grounds of war which I have already enumerated to be just ones, must absolutely be in force. But wars that are founded upon the glory of con quest alone, are to be carried on with less rancor ; for, as we treat a fellow-citizen in a different manner as a foe, than we do as an antagonist ; — as with the latter the struggle is for glory and power, as the former for life and reputation ; — thus we fought against the Celtiberians and the Cimbrians as against enemies, the question being not who should com mand but who should exist ; but we fought for empire against the Latines, the Sabines, the Samnites, the Carthaginians, and Pyrrhus. The Carthaginians, 'tis true, were faithless, and Hannibal was cruel, but the others were better principled. The speech of Pyrrhus about ransoming the captives is a noble one :

In war not crafty, but in battle bold,

No wealth I value, and I spurn at gold.

Be steel the only metal shall decree

The fate of empire, or to you or me.

The gen'rous conquest be by courage tried,

And all the captives on the Roman side,

I swear, by all the gods of open war,

As fate their lives, their freedom I will spare.

This sentiment is truly noble, and worthy the descendant of the ./Eacidse.

XIII. Nay, if even private persons should, induced by circumstances, make a promise to the enemy, even in this fidelity should be observed. Thus Regulus, when he was made a prisoner by the Carthaginians in the first Punic war, being sent to Rome to treat of an exchange of prisoners, he swore that he would return. The first thing he did when he came to Rome was to deliver his opinion in the senate that the prisoners should not be restored ; and after that, when he was detained by his relations and friends, he chose to deliver himself up to a cruel death rather than to falsify his word to the enemy.

But in the second Punic war, after the battle of CannaB, Hannibal sent ten Romans to Rome, under an oath that they would return to him unless they procured the prisoners to be ransomed ; but the censors disfranchised, as long as they lived, all of them that were perjured, as well as him who had devised a fraudulent evasion of his oath. For when, by the leave of Hannibal, he had left the camp, Ire returned soon after, to say that he had forgotten something ; and then again leaving the camp he considered himself free from the obligations of his oath, which he was with regard to the words but not the meaning of them ; for in a promise, what you thought, and not what you said, is always to be consid ered.1 But our forefathers set us a most eminent example of justice toward an enemy ; for when a deserter from Pyrrhus offered to the senate to dispatch that prince by poison, the senate and C. Fabricius delivered the traitor up to Pyrrhus. Thus they disapproved of taking off by treachery an enemy who was powerful, and was carrying on against them an ag gressive war.

Enough has now been said respecting the duties connected with warfare ; but we must bear in mind, that justice is due

1 As oaths are designed for the security of the imposer, it is manifest that they must be interpreted and performed in the sense in which the imposer intends them ; otherwise they afford no security to him. And this is the meaning and reason of the rule, "jurare in animum imponentis."— Paley's " Moral and Political Philosophy," book 3, chap. 16.

Against the practice of administering oaths as demoralizing, we may instance two authorities. "The effect," says Dymond, " of instituting oaths is to diminish the practical obligation of simple affirmation. The law says you must speak the truth when you are upon your oath, which is the same thing as to say that it is less harm to violate truth when you are not on your oath. The court sometimes reminds a witness that he is upon oath, which is equivalent to saying, If you were not we should think less of your mendacity. The same lesson is inculcated by the as signation of penalties to perjury and not to falsehood." " There is," says Godwin, in his "Political Justice," book 6, c. 5, "no cause of insincerity, prevarication, and falsehood more powerful than the practice of admin istering oaths in a court of justice. All attempts to strengthen the obli gations of morality, by fictitious and spurious motives, will, in the sequel, be found to have no tendency but to relax them."

CHAP. xrr. CICERO'S OFFICES. 25 even to the lowest of mankind ; and nothing can be lower than the condition and fortune of a slave. And yet those prescribe wisely who enjoin us to put them upon the same footing as hired laborers, obliging them to do their work, but giving them their dues. Now, as injustice may be done two ways> by force or fraud ; fraud being the property of a fox, force that of a lion ; both are utterly repugnant to society, but fraud is the more detestable. But in the whole system of villainy, none is more capital than that of the men, who, when they most deceive, so manage as that they may seem to be virtuous men. Thus much, then, on the subject of justice.

XIV. L'.t me now, as I proposed, speak of beneficence and liberality, virtues that are the most agreeable to the nature of man, bub which involve many precautionary con siderations. For, in the first place, we are to take care lest our kindness should hurt both those whom it is meant to assist, and others. In the next place, it ought not to exceed our abilities ; and it ought to be rendered to each in proportion to his worth. This is the fundamental standard of justice to which all these things should be referred. For they who do kindnesses which prove of disservice to the person they pre tend to oblige, should not be esteemed beneficent nor generous, but injurious sycophants. And they who injure one party in order to be liberal to another, are guilty of the same dishones ty as if they should appropriate to themselves what belongs to another.1

Now many, and they especially who are the most ambitious after grandeur and glory, rob one party to enrich another ; and account themselves generous to their friends if they enrich them by whatever means. This is so far from being consistent with, that nothing can be more contrary to, our duty. We should therefore take care to practice that kind of generosity that is serviceable to our friends, but hurtful to

1 " Liberality in princes is regarded as a mark of beneficence. But when it occurs that the homely bread of the honest and industrious is often thereby converted into delicious cakes for the idle and the prodigal, we soon retract our heedless praises. The regrets of a prince for having lost a day were noble and generous, but had he intended to have spent it in acts of generosity to his greedy courtiers, it was better lost than, misemployed after that manner. " — Hume's " Dissertation on the Pas sions, "'section 2. 0 none. Upon this principle, when Lucius Sylla and Caius Caesar took propeity from its just owners and transferred it to stranger.*, in so doing they ought not to be accounted generous ; for nothing can be generous that is not at the same time just.

Our next part of circumspection is, that our generosity never should exceed our abilities. For they who are more generous then their circumstances admit of are, first, guilty in this, that they wrong their relations ; because they bestow upon strangers those means which they might, with greater justice, give or leave to those who are nearest to them. Now a generosity of this kind is generally attended with a lust to ravish and to plunder, in order to be furnished with the means to give away. For it is easy to observe, that most of them are not so much by nature generous, as they are misled by a kind of pride to do a great many things in order that they may seem to be generous ; which things seem to spring not so much from good will as from ostentation. Now such a simula tion is more nearly allied to duplicity than to generosity or virtue.

The third head proposed was, that in our generosity we should have regard to merit ; and, consequently, examine both the morals of the party to whom we are generous, and his dis position toward us, together with the general good of society, and how far he may have already contributed to our own in terest. Could all those considerations be united, it were the more desirable ; but the object in whom is united the most numerous and the most important of them, ought to have the greatest weight with us.

XV. But as we live not with men who are absolutely perfect and completely wise, but with men who have great merit if they possess the outlines of worth, we are, I think, from thence to infer, that no man is to be neglected in whom there appears any indication of virtue ; and that each should be regarded in proportion as he is adorned with the milder virtues of modesty, temperance, and that very justice of which I have so largely treated. For fortitude and greatness of spirit is commonly too violent in a man who is not completely wise and perfect ; but the aforesaid virtues seem to belong more to a good man.

Having said thus much of morals ; with regard to the

CHAP. ZYI. CICERO'S OFFICES. 2 7 kindness which a person expresses for us, our first duty is, to perform the most for him by whom we are most beloved. Now we are to judge of kindness, not like children, by a sort of ardor of affection, but by its stability and constancy. But if its merits are such that we are not to court but to requite the kindness, the greater ought our care to be ; for there is no duty more indispensable than that of returning a kind ness. Now if, as Hesiod enjoins, we ought, if it is in our power, to repay what we have received for mere use with interest, how ought we to act when called upon by kindness ? Are we not to imitate those fertile fields which yield far more than they have received ? For, if we readily oblige those who we are in hopes will serve us, how ought we to behave toward those who have served us already ? For as generosity is of two kinds, the one conferring a favor, the other repaying it, whether we confer it or not is at our own option, but the not repaying it is not allowable in a good man, provided he can do so without injury to any. Now there are distinctions to be made as to the benefits received j and it is clear that the greatest return is due in each case to the greatest obligation. Meanwhile, we are above all things to consider the spirit, the zeal, and the meaning with which a favor is conferred. For many confer numerous favors with a sort of recklessness, without any judgment or prin ciple, upon all mankind promiscuously, or influenced by sudden perturbation of mind, as if by a hurricane : such favors are not to be esteemed so highly as those which result from judg ment, consideration, and consistency. But in conferring or re quiting kindness, the chief rule of our duty ought to be, if all other circumstances are equal, to confer most upon the man who stands in greatest need of assistance. The reverse of this is practiced by the generality, who direct their greatest services to the man from whom they hope the most, though he may stand in no need of them.

XVI. Now society and alliances among men would be best preserved if the greatest kindness should be manifested where there is the nearest relation. But we ought to go higher, if we are to investigate the natural principles of intercourse and community among men. The first is, that which is perceived in the society of the whole human race, / and of this the bond is speech and reason, which by/

; teaching, learning, communicating, debating, and judging, /conciliate men together, and bind them into a kind of natural society. There is nothing in which we differ more from the nature of brutes than in this ; for we very often allow them to have courage, as for instance, horses and lions ; but we never admit that they possess justice, equity, ; and goodness •, because they are void of reason and speech. Now this is the kind of society that is most extensive with mankind among themselves, and it goes through all ; for here a community of all things that nature has produced for the common use of mankind is preserved, so that they may be possessed in the manner proscribed by laws and civil statutes : of which laws themselves some are to be observed in accordance with the Greek proverb, "that all things among friends are to be in common." Now this community consists of things which are of that nature which, though placed byEnnius under one head, may be applied to many. "He (says that author) who kindly shows the bewildered traveler the right road, does as it were light his lamp by his own ; which affords none the less light to himself after it has lighted the other."

By this single example he sufficiently enjoins on us to perform, even to a stranger, all the service we can do without detriment to ourselves. Of which service the following are common illustrations : " That we are to debar no man from the running stream ;" " That we are to suffer any who desire it to kindle fire at our fire ;" " That we are to give faithful counsel to a person who is in doubt :" all which are par ticulars that are serviceable to the receiver without being det rimental to the bestower. We are therefore to practice them, and be constantly contributing somewhat to the common good. As the means, however, of each particular person are very confined and the numbers of the indigent are boundless, our distributive generosity ought still to be bounded by the princi ple of Ennius — "it nevertheless gives light to one's self" — that we may still be possessed of the means to be generous to our friends.

XVII. Now the degrees of human society are many. For, 1o quit the foregoing unbounded kin-], there h one more confined, which consists of men of the same r;cc, nation, and language, by which people are more intimately connected

CHAP. xvir. CICERO'S OFFICES, 29 among themselves. A. more contracted society than that con sists of men inhabiting the same city ; for many things are in common among fellow-citizens, such as their forum, their tem ples, their porticos, their streets, their laws, their rites, their courts of justice, their trials, not to mention their customs, and intimacies, with a great number of particular dealings and inter courses of numbers with numbers. There is a still more con tracted degree of society, which is that of relatives ; and this closes, in a narrow point, the unbounded general association of the human race.

For, as it is a common natural principle among all animated beings that they have a desire to propagate their own species, the first principles of society consists i:i the marriage tie, the next in children, the next in a family within one roof, where every thing is in common. This society gives rise to the city, and is, as it were, the nursery of the commonwealth. Next fol lows the connection of brotherhood, next that of cousins, in their different degrees ; and, when they grow too numerous to be contained under one roof, they are transplanted to different dwellings, as it wTere to so many colonies. Then follow mar riages and alliances, whence spring more numerous relationships. The descendants, by this propagation, form the origin of com monwealths ; but the ties and affections of blood bind mankind by affection.1

For there is something very powerful in having tne monu-

1 " Families are so many centers of attraction, which preserve man kind from being scattered and dissipated by the repulsive powers of self ishness. The order of nature is evermore from particulars to generals. As in the operations of intellect we proceed from the contemplation of individuals to the formation of general abstractions, so in the develop ment of the passions, in like manner we advance from private to public affections ; from the love of parents, brothers, and sisters, to those more expanded regards which embrace the immense society of human kind." — Robert Hall's " Sermon on Modern Infidelity." In apparent opposi tion to this view stands the theory of President Edwards, which was afterward extensively adopted in an aggravated form. " True virtue, according to him (says Sir James Mackintosh, " Progress of Ethical Phi losophy"), consists in benevolence, or love to being 'in general,' which he afterward limits to 'intelligent bein;r,' though sentient would have involved a more reasonable limitation. This good will is felt toward a particular being, first in proportion to his degr> e of existence (' for,' says ho, that which is great has more existence, and is further from nothing than that which is little),' and secondly, in proj>ortioii to the degree in which that particular being feels benevolence to others." Perhaps the ablest ments of our ancestors the same, in practicing the same religious rites, and in having the same places of interment. But among a!l the degrees of society, none is more excelrefutation of these principles, in a brief compass, is found in the following note by the Rev. Robert Hall in the Sermon above quoted.

"It is somewhat singular that many of the fashionable infidels have hit upon a definition of virtue which perfectly coincides with that of cer tain metaphysical divines in America, first invented and defended by that most acute reasoner, JONATHAN EDWARDS. They both place virtue ex clusively in a passion for the general good ; or, as Mr. Edwards expresses it, love to being in general ; so that our lovo is always to be proportioned to the magnitude of its object in the scale of being: which is liable to the objections. I have already stated, as well as to many others which the limits of this note will not permit me to enumerate. Let it suffice to remark, (1.) That virtue, on these principles, is an utter impossibility; for the system of being, comprehending the great Supreme, is infinite: and, therefore, to maintain the proper proportion, the force of particular attachment must be infinitely less than the passion for the general good; but the limits of the human mind are not capable of any emotion so infinitely different in degree, (2.) Since our vieivs of the extent of the universe are capable of perpetual enlargement, admitting the sum of ex istence is ever the same, we must return back at each step to diminish the strength of particular affections, or they will become disproportionate, and consequently, on these principles, vicious ; so that the balance must be continually fluctuating, by the weights being taken out of one scale and put into the other. (3.) If virtue consists exclusively in love to being in general, or attachment to the general good, the particular affections are, to every purpose of virtue, useless, and even pernicious ; for their im mediate, nay, their necessary tendency is to attract to their objects a pro portion of attention whinh far exceeds their comparative value in thegeneral scale. To allege chat the general good is promoted by them, will be of no advantage to the defense of this system, bat the contrary, by confessing that a greater sum of happiness is attained by a deviation from, than an adherence to, its principles ; unless its advocates mean by the love of being in general the same thing as the private affections, which is to confound all the distinctions of language, as well as all the operations of mind. Let it be remembered, we have no dispute respect ing what is the ultimate end of virtue, which is allowed on both sides to be the greatest sum of happiness in the universe. The question is mere ly, what is virtue itself? or, in other words, what are the means appointed for the attainment of that end ?

"There is little doubt, from some parts of Mr. Godwin's work, entitled 'Political Justice,' as well as from his early habits of reading, that he was indebted to Mr. Edwards for his principal arguments against the private affections ; though, with a daring consistency, he has pursued his principles to an extreme from which that most excellent man would have revolted with horror. The fundamental error of the whole system arose, as I conceive, from a mistaken pursuit of simplicity : from a wish to construct a moral system, without leaving sufficient scope for the infi-

CHAP. rm. CICERO'S OFFICES. 31 lent, none more stable, than when worthy men, through a sim ilarity of manners, are intimately connected together ; for, as I have often said, even when we discern the honestum in another it touches us, and makes us friends to the man in whom it resides. Now, though virtue of every kind attracts and charms us to the love of those who possess it, yet that love is strongest that is effected by justice and generosity. For nothing is more lovely, nothing is more binding, than a similarity of good dis positions;1 because among those whose pursuits and pleasures are the same, every man is pleased as much with another as he is with himself, and that is effected which Pythagoras chiefly contemplates in friendship, " that many become one." A strong community is likewise effected by good offices mutually confer red and received ; and, provided these be reciprocal and agreenite variety of moral phenomena and mental combination ; in consequence of which its advocates were induced to place virtue exclusively in some one disposition of mind : and, since the passion for the general good is undeniably the noblest and most extensive of all others, when it was once resolved to place virtue in any one thing, there remained little room to hesitate which should be preferred. It might have been worth while to reflect, that in the natural world there are two kinds of attraction ; one, which holds the several parts of individual bodies in contact ; an other, which maintains the union of bodies themselves with the general system : and that, though the union in the former case is much more intimate than in the latter, each is equally essential to the order of the world. Similar to this is the relation which the public and private affec tions bear to each other, and their use in the moral system.

1 "Friendship, founded on the principles of worldly morality, recog' nized by virtuous heathens, such as that which subsisted between Atticus and Cicero — which the last of these illustrious men had rendered immortal — is fitted to survive through all the vicissitudes of life ; but it belongs only to a union founded on religion, to continue through an end less duration. The former of these stood the shock of conflicting opin ions, and of a revolution that shook the world; the latter is destined to survive when the heavens are no more, and to spring fresh from the ashes of the universe. The former possessed all the stability which is possible to sublunary things; the latter partakes of the eternity of God. Friendship, founded on worldly principles, is natural, and, though com posed of the best elements of nature, is not exempt from its mutability and frailty ; the latter is spiritual, and, therefore, unchanging and im perishable. The friendship which is founded on kindred tastes and congenial habits, apart from piety, is permitted by the benignity of Providence to embellish a world, which, with all its magnificence- and beauty, will shortly pass away; that which has religion for its basis, will ere long be transplanted, in order to adorn the paradise of God." — Robert Hall's " Sermon on the death of Dr. Ryland."

able, those among \vliom they happen arc bound together in close association.

But when you view every thing with reason and reflection, of all connections none is more weighty, none is more dear, than that between every individual and his country. Our parents are dear to us ; our children, our kinsmen, our friends, are dear to us ; but our country comprehends alone all the endearments of us all. For which what good man would hesitate to die if he could do her service ? The more execrably unnatural, therefore, are they who wound their country by every species of guilt, and who are now, and have been, em ployed in her utter destruction. But wfcere a computation or comparison set up, of those objects to which our chief duty should be paid, the principal are our country and our parents, by whose services we are laid under the s rongest obligations ; the next are our children and entire family, who depend upon us alone, without having any other refuge ; the next our agree able kinsmen, who generally share our fortune in common. The necessary supports of life, therefore, are due chiefly to those I have already mentioned ; but the mutual intercourses of life, counsels, discourses, exhortations, consultations, and even sometimes re proofs, flourish chiefly in friendships, and those friendships are the most agreeable that are cemented by a similarity of manners.

XVIII. But in performing all these duties we are care fully to consider what is most necessary to each, and what every one of them could or could not attain even without us. Thus the relative claims of relationship and of circumstances will not always be identical. Some duties are owing to some more than to others. For instance, you are sooner to help your neighbor to house his corn, than your brother or your friend ; but if a cause be on trial, you are to take part with your kinsman, or your friend, rather than with your neigh bor. These considerations, therefore, and the like, ought to be carefully observed in every duty ; and custom and practice should be attained, that we may be able to be correct assessors of our duties, and, by adding or subtracting, to strike the balance, by which we may see the proportion to which every party is entitled.

But as neither physicians, nor generals, nor orators, how ever perfect they may bo in the theory of their a"t, c:.n ever perform any thing that i.s highly praiseworthy, without expe rience and practice, so rules have indeed been laid down for the

CHAP. xix. CICERO'S OFFICES. 33 observation of duties, as, I myself am doing ; but the import ance of the matter demands experience and practice. I have now, I think, sufficiently treated of tlie manner in which the honestum, which gives the fitness to our duties, arises from those matters that come within the rights of human society.

It must be understood, however, at the same time, that when the four springs from which virtue and honesty arise are laid open, that which is done with a lofty spirit, and one which scorns ordinary interests, appears the most noble. Therefore the most natural of all reproaches is somewhat of the following kind : —

Young men, ye carry but the souls of women ; That woman of a man.

Or somewhat of the following kind : —

Salmacis, give me spoils without toil or danger.

On the other hand, in our praises, I know not how it is, but actions performed with magnanimity, with fortitude, and virtue, we eulogize in a loftier style. From hence Marathon, SaUnnis, Plat sea, Thermopylae, Leuctra, have become the field of rhetoricians ; and among ourselves, Codes, the Decii, the two Scipios, Cneius and Publius, Marcus Marcellus, and a great many others. Indeed, the Roman people in general are distinguished above all by elevation of spirit ; and their fondness for military glory is shown by the fact that we genernlly see their statues dressed in warlike habits.

XIX. But that magnanimity which is discovered in toils and dangers, if it be devoid of justice, and contend not for the public good, but for selfish interest, is blarnable ; for, so far from being a mark of virtue, it is rather that of a barbarity which is repulsive to all humanity. By the Stoics, therefore, fortitude is .rightly defined, when they call it "valor fighting on the side of justice." No man, there fore, who has acquired the reputation of fortitude, attained his glory by deceit and malice ; for nothing that is devoid of justice can be a virtue.

It is, therefore, finely said by Plato, that not only the knowledge that is apart from justice deserves the sppellatiou of cunning rather than wisdom, but also a mind that is ready to encounter danger, if it is animated by private interest, an<J not public utility, deserves the character of audaciousness rather than of fortitude. We, therefore, require that all men of courage and magnanimity should be at the same time men of virtue and of simplicity, lovers of truth, and by no means deceitful ; for these qualities are the main glory of justice.

But there is one painful consideration, that obstinacy, and an undue ambition for power, naturally spring up from this elevation and greatness of spirit ; for, as Plato tells us, the entire character of the Lacedaemonians was inflamed with the desire of conquest. Thus the man who is most distin guished by his magnanimity, is most desirous of being the leading, or rather the only potentate of all. Now, it is a difficult matter, when you desire to be superior to all others, to preserve that equability which is the characteristic of justice. Hence it is that such men will not suffer themselves to be thwartel in a debate, nor by any public and lawful authority ; and in public matters they are commonly guilty of corruption and faction, in order to grasp at as great power as possible ; and they choose to be superior by means of force, rather than equals by justice. But the more diffi cult the matter is, it is the more glorious; for there is no conjuncture which ought to be unconnected with justice.

They, therefore, who oppose, not they who commit, in justice are to be deemed brave and magnanimous. Now, genuine and well-considered magnanimity judges that the honestum, which is nature's chief aim, consists in realities and not in mere glory, and rather chooses to be than to seem pre-eminent : for the man who is swayed by the prej udices of an ignorant rabble is not to be reckoned among the great ; but the man of a spirit the most elevated, through the desire of glory, is the most easily impelled into acts of injustice. This is, indeed, a slippery situation ; for scarcely can there be found a man who, after enduring trials and encountering dangers, does not pant for popularity as the reward of his exploits.1

1 " It must be strongly impressed upon our minds." says Dr. Johnson, "that virtue is not to be pursued as one of the means to fame, but faino to be accepted as the o.ily recompense which mortals can bestow on virtue — to be accepted with complacency, but not sought with eager ness. The true satisfaction which, is to be drawn from the consciousness

CHAP. zx. CICERO'S OFFICES. 35

XX. A spirit altogether brave and elevated is chiefly dis cernible by two characters. The first consists in a low estimate of mere outward circumstances, since it is convinced that a man ought to admire, desire, or court nothing but what is virtuous and becoming ; and that he ought to succumb to no man, nor to any perturbation either of spirit or fortune.1 The other thing is, that possessed of such a spirit as I have just mentioned, you should perform actions which are great and of the greatest utility, but extremely arduous, full of difficulties and danger both to life and the many things which pertain to life.

In the latter of those two characters consist all the glory, the majesty, and, I add, the utility ; but the causes and the efficient means that form great men is in the former, which contains the principles that elevate the soul, and gives it a contempt for temporary considerations. Now, this very excel lence consists in two particulars : you are to deem that only to be good that is virtuous ; and that you be free from all mental irregularity. For we are to look upon it as the character of a noble and an elevated soul, to slight all those considerations that the generality of mankind account great and glorious, and to despise them, upon firm and durable principles ; while strength of mind, arid greatness of resolution, are discerned in bearing those calamities which, in the course of man's life, are many and various, so as not to be driven from your nat ural disposition, nor from the dignity of a wise man : for it is not consistent that he who is not subdued by fear should be subjugated by passion ; nor that he who has shown him self invincible by toil, should be conquered by pleasure.8 Wherefore, we ought to watch and avoid the love of money :

that we shall share the attention of future times, must arise from the hope that with our name our virtues will be propagated, and that those whom we can not benefit iu our lives may receive instruction from our examples, and incitement from our renown." — Rambler.

1 '-It is the business of moralists to detect the frauds of fortune, and to show that she imposes upon the careless eye by a quick succession of shadows, which will sink to nothing in the gripe ; that she disguises life in extrinsic ornaments, which serve only for show, and are laid aside in the hours of solitude and of pleasure ; and that when greatness aspires either to felicity or to wisdom, it shakes off those distinctions which dazzle tL? gazer and awe the suppliant." — Dr. Johnson.

2 " I3e not a Hercules furens abroad, and a poltroon within thyself. To chaso our enemies out of the field, and be led captive by our vices;

for nothing so truly characterizes a narrow, groveling dispo sition as to love riches ;' and nothing is more noble and more exalted than to despise riches if you have them not, and if you have them, to employ them in beneficence and liber ality.2

An inordinate passion for glory, as I have already ob served, is likewise to be guarded against ; for it deprives us of liberty, the only prize for which men of elevated senti ments ought to contend. Power is so for from being desirable in itself, that it sometimes ought to be refused, and some times to be resigned. We should likewise be free from all disorders of the mind, from all violent passion and fear, as well as languor, voluptuousness, and anger, that we may possess that tranquillity and security which confer alike consistency and dignity, Now, many there are, and have been, who, courting that tranquillity which I have mentioned here, have withdrawn themselves from public affairs and taken refuge in retirement. Among these, some of the noblest and most leading of our philosophers ;3 and some persons, of strict and grave dispositions, were unable to bear with the manners either of the people or their rulers ; and some have lived in the country, amusing themselves with the management of their private affairs. Their aim was the same as that of the powerful, that they might enjoy their liberty, without wanting any thing or obeying any person ; for the essence of liberty is to live just as you please.

to beat down our foes, and fall down to our concupiscences, are solecisms in moral schools, and no laurel attends them." — Sir Thomas Browne's " Christian Morals."

1 " To me avarice seems not so much a vice as a deplorable piece of madness. To conceive ourselves urinals, or be persuaded that we are dead, is not so ridiculous, nor so many degrees beyond the power of hellebore, as this. The opinions of theory, and positions of men, are not so void of reason as their practiced conclusions. Some have held that snow is black, that the earth moves, that the soul is air, fire, water; but all this is philosophy, and there is no delirium if we do but speculate the folly and indisputable dotage of avarice to that subterraneous idol and god of the earth." — Sir Thomas Browne's " Relido Medici."

2 "A reader, of very ordinary erudition," says Guthrie, " may easily perceive how greatly the best historians and poets among the Romans were indebted to this and the foregoing chapter, which have served as a commonplace for their finest sentiments."

3 Such are Pythagoras, Democritus, Anaxagoras, Socrates, Plato, Aristotle, Zeno, Epicurus, etc.

CHAP. rxi. CICERO'S OFFICES. 37

XXI. Therefore, as the object of those who are ambitious for power, and of those who court retirement, and wrhom I have just now described, is the same, the former imagine that they can attain it if they are possessed of great resources, and the latter, if they can be contented with their own, and with little. In this matter the sentiments of neither are to be absolutely rejected. But a life of retirement is more easy, more safe, less tiresome, and less troublesome than any other ; while the life of those who apply themselves to the affairs of government, and to the management of a state, is more beneficial to mankind, and more conducive to glory and renown.

Allowances, therefore, are to be made for those who having no management in public matters, with an excellent genius, give themselves up to learning; and to those who being hindere I by feebleness of health, or for some very weighty reason, retire from affairs of government, and leave to others the power and the honor of the administration ; but when men, wlio have no such excuses, say that they despise that power and those offices which most admire, such* men are so far from deserving praise that they incur censure. It is difficult to condemn their judgment in despising and under valuing popularity; but then they seem to dread the toils and troubles of affronts and repulses as involving ignominy and infamy. For some there are who, in opposite matters, are very inconsistent with themselves; they spurn most rigidly at pleasure, but they droop in pain ; they despise glory, but sink under unpopularity ; and that, too, with no little inconsistency.

But the men who inherit from nature appliances for government ought, laying aside all excuses, to undertake the discharge of all public offices and the management of state affairs ; for neither can a state be governed, nor can magnan imity display itself, by any other means. I am not, however, sure whether those who undertake the management of public affairs ought not to be equally distinguished by magnanimity as philosophers, if not more so, and impresssd with a con tempt of common affairs and to possess that tranquillity, th:it calm of min.l, I have so much recommended ; I mean, if they wish to live without anxiety, with dignity and consistency.

This may be the more easily practiced by philosophers, because in their lives there is less exposed for fortune to strike at ; because their necessities are more contracted ; and because, if any thing adverse should happen, they can not foil so heavily. It is not, therefore, without reason, that in the mind of those who undertake the management of public affairs, more violent passions are excited, and mightier mat ters are to be attempted, than by those who are retired ; they, therefore, ought to possess greater elevation of spirit, and freedom from disquiets. But, whoever enters upon public life ought to take care that the question, how far the measure is virtuous, be not his sole consideration, but also how far he may have the means of carrying it into execution. In this he is chiefly to take care that through indolence he do not meanly despond, nor through eagerness too much pre sume. Thus, in all affairs, before you undertake them, a diligent preparation should be entered into.

XXII. But, since most persons are of opinion that the achievements of war are more glorious than civil "affairs, this judgment needs to be restricted ; for many, as generally is the case with high minds and enterprising spirits, espe cially if they are adapted to military life and are fond of warlike achievements, have often sought opportunities of war from their fondness for glory ; but if we are willing to judge truly, many are the civil employments of greater im portance, and of more renown, than the military.

For though Tkemistocles is justly prated — his name is now more illustrious than that of Solon, and his glorious victory at Salamis is mentioned preferably to the policy of Solon, by which he first confirmed the power of the Areopagus — the one should not be considered more illustrious than the other ; for the one availed his country only for once — the other is lastingly advantageous ; because by it the laws of the Athenians, and the institutions of their ancestors, are preserved. Now, Themistocles could not have stated any respect in which he benefited the Areopagus, but the former might with truth declare that Themistocles had been advan taged by him ; for the war was carried on by the counsels of that senate which was constituted by Solon.

We may make the same observation with regard to Pausanias and Lysander among the Lacedaemonians ; for all

CHAP. xxn. CICERO'S OFFICES. 39 the addition of empire which their conquests are supposed to have brought to their country is not to be compared to the laws and economy of Lycuigus ; for indeed, owing to these very causes they had armies more subordinate and courageous. In my eyes, Marcus Scaurus (who flourished when I was but a boy) was not inferior to Gains Marius ; nor, after I came to have a concern in the government, Quintus Catulus to Cneius Pompcy. An army abroad is but of small service unless there be a wise administration at home. Nor did that good man and great general, Africanus, perform a more important service to his country when he razed Numantia, than did that private citizen, P. Nasica, when at the same period he killed Tiberius Gracchus. An action which it is true was not merely of a civil nature ; for it approaches to a military character, as being the result of force and courage ; but it was an action performed without an army, and from political considerations.

That st-ite described by the following line is best for a country, for which I understand that I am abused by the wicked and malicious :

Arms to the gown, and laurels yield to lore.1

For, not to mention other persons, when I was at the helm cf government did not " arms yield to the gown ?" For never did our country know a time of more threatening danger or more profound tranquillity ; so quickly, through my counsel and my diligence, did the arms of our most prof ligate fellow citizens drop of themselves out of their hands. What so great exploit as this was ever performed in war, or what triumph can be compared with it ?

The inheritance of my glory and the imitation of my actions are to descend to you, my son Marcus, therefore it is allowable for me to boast in writing to you. It is, how ever, certain that Pompey, who was possessed of much military glory, paid this tribute to me, in the hearing of many, that in vain would he have returned to his third triumph, had not my public services preserved the place in which he was to celebrate it. The examples cf civil

1 Orig. Cedant arma togce, concedat laurea linguae. The author ia here speaking of his conduct in suppressing Catiline's conspiracy.

courage are therefore no less meritorious than those of mili tary ; and they require a greater share of zeal and labor than the latter.

XXIII. Now all that excellence which springs from a lofty and noble nature is altogether produced by the mental and not by the corporeal powers.1 Meanwhile, the body ought to be kept in such action and order, as that it may be always rca !y to obey the dictates of reason and wisdom, in carrying them into execution, and in persevering under hardship?. But with regard to that honestum we are treating of, it consists wholly in the thoughtful application of the mind ; by which the civilians who preside over public affairs are equally serviceable to their country as they who wage wars. For it often happens that by such counsels wars are either not entered into, or they are brought to a termination ; sometimes they are even undertaken, as the third Punic war was by the advice of Marcus Cato, whose authority was powerful, even after he was dead.

Wisdom in determining is therefore preferable to courage in fighting ; but in this we are to take care that we

1 " As a previous observation, it is beyond all doubt that very much depends on the constitution of the body. It would be for physiologists to explain, if it were explicable, the manner in which corporeal organ ization affects the mind. I only assume it as a fact, that there is iu the material construction of some persons, much more than of others, some quality which augments, if it do not create, both the stability of their resolution and the energy of their active tendencies. There is some thing that, like the ligatures which one class of the Olympic combatants bound on their hands and wrists, braces round, if I may so describe it, and compresses the powers of the mind, giving them a steady forcible spring and reaction, which they would presently lose if they could be transferred into a constitution of soft, yielding, treacherous debility. The action of strong character seems to demand something firm in its material basis, as massive engines require, for their weight and for their working, to be fixed on a solid foundation. Accordingly, I believe it would be found that a majority of the persons most remarkable for decisive char acter have possessed great constitutional physical firmness. I do not mean an exemption from disease and pain, nor any certain measure of mechanical strength, but a tone of vigor, the opposite to lassitude, and adapted to great exertion and endurance. This is clearly evinced in re spect to many of them, by the prodigious labors and deprivations which they have borne in prosecuting their designs. The physical nature Ins seemed a proud ally of the moral one, and, with a hardness that would never shrink, has sustained the energy that could never remit."-— Foster's Essays "On Decision of Character," Letter 2.

CHAP. xxm. CICERO'S OFFICES. 41 are not swayed by an aversion to fighting rather than by a consideration of expediency.1 Now in engaging in war we ought to make it appear that we have no other view but peace. But the character of a brave and resolute man is not to be ruffled with adversity, and not to be in such confusion as to quit his post, as we say, but to preserve a presence of mind, and the exercise of reason, without departing from his purpose. And while this is the charac teristic of a lofty spirit, so this also is that of a powerful intellect, namely, to anticipate futurity in thought, and to conclude beforehand what may happen on either side, and, upon that, what measures to pursue, and never be surprised so as to say, " I had not thought of that." Such are the operations of a genius, capacious and elevated ; of such a one as relies on its own prudence and counsel ;2 but to rush

1 See Paley's broad statement, that expediency is the fundamental test of all morality. — Book 2, chap. 6.

2 The rarity of self-reliance, notwithstanding the commonness of the weakness that stimulates it, is thus strikingly shown by the great essayist above quoted : " The first prominent mental characteristic of the person whom I describe, is a complete confidence in his own judgment. It will, perhaps, be said that this is not so uncommon a qualification. I, how ever, think it is uncommon. It is, indeed, obvious enough that almost all men have a flattering estimate of their own understanding, and that as long as this understanding has no harder task than to form opinions which are not to bo tried in action, they have a most self-complacent as surance of being right. This assurance extends to the judgments which they pass on the proceedings of others. But let them be brought into the necessity of adopting actual measures in an untried situation, where, unassisted by any previous example or practice, they are reduced to de pend on the bare resources of judgment alone, and you will see in many cases this confidence of opinion vanish away. The mind seems all at once placed in a misty vacuity, where it reaches round on all sides, but can find nothing to take hold of. Or if not lost in vacuity, it is over whelmed in confusion ; and feels as if its faculties were annihilated in the attempt to think of schemes and calculations among the possibilities, chances, and hazards which overspread a wide untrodden field ; and this conscious imbecility becomes severe distress, when it is believed that con< sequences, of serious or unknown good or evil, are depending on the de cisions which are to be formed amid so much uncertainty. The thought painfully recurs at each step and turn, I may by chance be right, but it is fully as probable I am wrong. It is like the case of a rustic walking in London, who, having no certain direction through the vast confusion of streets to the place where ho wishes to be, advances, and hesitates, and turns, and inquires, and becomes, at each corner, still more inextric ably perplexed. A man in this situation feels ho shall be very unfortun* precipitately into the field, and to encounter an enemy with mere physical force has somewhat in it that is -barbarous and brutal. When the occasion, however, and its necessity compel it, we should resist with force, and prefer death to slavery or dishonor.

XXIV. But with regard to overthrowing and plundering of cities, great consideration is required that nothing be done rashly, nothing cruelly.1 And this is the part of a great man, after he has maturely weighed all circumstances, to punish the guilty, to spare the many ; and in every state of fortune not to depart from an upright, virtuous conduct. For, as you find (as I have already observe ") men who prefer military to civil duties, so will you find many of that cast who look upon dangerous and violent resolutions to be more splendid and more dignified than calm and digested measures. We should never so entirely avoid danger as to appear irresolute and cowardly; but, at the same time, we should ate if he can not accomplish more than he can understand. Is not this frequently, when brought to the practical test, the state of a mind not disposed in general to undervalue its own judgment ?" — Foster's Essay " On Decision of Character," Letter 2.

1 "If," says Paley, "the cause and end of war be justifiable, all the means that appear necessary to the end are justifiable also. This is the principle which defends those extremities to which the violence of war usually proceeds ; for, since war is a contest by force between parties who acknowledge no common superior, and since it includes not in its idea the supposition of any convention which should place limits to the operations of force, it has naturally no boundary but that in which force terminates — the destruction of the life against which the force is direct ed. Let it be observed, however, that the license of war authorizes no acts of hostility but what are necessary or conducive to the end and ob ject of the war. Gratuitous barbarities borrow no excuse from this plea : of which kind is every cruelty and every insult that serves only to exas perate the sufferings, or to incense the hatred, of an enemy, without weakening his strength, or in any manner tending to procure his submis sion ; such as the slaughter of captives, the subjecting of them to indig nities or torture, the violation of women, the profanation of temples, the demolition of public buildings, libraries, statues, and in general the de struction or defacing of works that conduce nothing to annoyance or de fense. These enormities are prohibited not only by the practice of civil ized nations, but by the law of nature itself as having no proper tend ency to accelerate the termination, or accomplish the object of the war, and as containing that which in peace and war is equally unj:.stifiable — ultimate and gratuitous mischief." — " Moral and Political Philosophy," book G, chap. 12.

CHAP. XXIY. CICERO'S OFFICES. 43 avoid unnecessarily exposing ourselves to danger, than which nothing can be more foolish.

In encountering dangers, therefore, we arc to imitate the practice of the physicians who apply to gentle illnesses gentle medicines, but are forced to apply more desperate and more doubtful cures to more dangerous diseases. It is the part of a madman to wish for an adverse tempest in a calm, but of a wise man to find relief against the tempest by what ever means ; and the rather if one incurs more advantage by accomplishing the matter than disadvantage by keeping it in suspense. Now the conducting of enterprises is dangerous sometimes to the undertakers, and sometimes to the state ; and hence some are in danger of losing their lives, some their reputation, and some their popularity. But we ought to be more forward to expose our own persons than the general interests to danger, and to be more ready to fight for honor and reputation than for other advantages.

Though many have been known cheerfully to venture not only their money but their lives for the public ; yet those very men have refused to suffer the smallest loss of glory even at the request of their country. For instance, Callicratidas, who, after performing many gallant actions at the head of the Lacedaemonian armies, during the Peloponnesian war, at last threw every thing into confusion by refusing to obey the directions of those who were for removing the fleet from Arginusse, and not for fighting the Athenians ; to whom his answer was, that if the Lacedaemonians lost that fleet they could fit out another, but that he could not turn his back without dishonor to himself. 'Tis true, the blow that followed upon this was not very severe to the Lacedaemonians ; but it was a deadly one, when, from a fear of public odium, Cleombrotus fought with Epamonidas, and the power of the Lacedaemonians perished. How preferable was the conduct of Quiutus Maximus, of whom Ennius says : —

" The man1 who saved his country by delay, No tales could move him, and no envy sway j And thus the laurels on his honored brow, In age shall flourish, and with time shall grow."

1 The verses quoted here by Ennius seem to have been in high repu tation with the Romans ; for Virgil has borrowed the first of them, and applied it, as our author does, to tho conduct of Fabius Maximus against Hannibal.

This is a species of fault which ought also to be avoided in civil matters ; for there are some men who, from a dread of unpopularity, dare not express their opinions however excellent they may be.

XXV. All who hope to rise in a state ought strictly to observe two rules of Plato. The fr.'st is, that they so keep in view the advantage of their fellow-citizens as to have reference to it in whatever they do, regardless of their indi vidual interest.1 The second is, that their cares be applied to the whole of the state, lest while they are cherishing one part they abandon the others. For the administration of government, like a guardianship, ought to be directed to the good of those who confer, and not of those who receive the trust.3 Now, they who consult the interests of one part of

1 " Political power is rightly exercised only when it subserves the wel fare of the community. The community, which has the right to with hold power, delegates it of course for its own advantage. If in any case its advantage is not consulted, then the object for which it was delegated is frustrated ; or, in simple words, the measure which does not promote the public welfare is not right. It matters nothing whether the commun ity have delegated specifically so much power for such and such purposes ; the power, being possessed, entails the obligation. Whether a sovereign derives absolute authority b> inheritance, or whether a president is in trusted with limited authority for a year, the principles of their duty aro the same. The obligation to employ it only for the public good is just as real and just as great in one case as in the other. The Russian and the Turk have the same right to require that the power of their rulers shall be so employed as the Englishman or American. They may not be able to assert this right, but that does not affect its existence, nor the ruler's duty, nor his responsibility to that Almighty Being before whom he must give an account of his stewardship. These reasonings, if they needed confirmation, derive it from the fact that the Deity imperatively requires us, according to our opportunities to do good to man." — Eymond's Essay 3, cap. 2

2 " Political powers (says Dymond) is rightlr possessed only when it is possessed by the consent of the community." — Ibid.

The doctrine of the essential sovereignty of the people, and the dele gated power of all governors is thus laid down by Milton : " It is thus manifest that the power of kings and magistrates is nothing else but what is only derivative, transferred, and committed to them in trust from the people to the common good of them all, in whom the power yet re mains fundamentally, and can not be taken from them without a viola tion of their natural birthright ; and from hence Aristotle, and the best of political writers, have defined a king, ' him who governs to the good rmd profit of his poonle, and not for his own ends.' "—Milton's "Tenure of Kings and Magistrates." And again : " It follows that since the king or magistrate holds his authority of the people, both originally and nat-

CHAP. xxv. CICERO'S OFFICES. 45 a community and neglect another, introduce into the state the greatest of all evils, sedition and discord. From this partiality some seem to court the people, some each great man, but few the whole. Hence the great discords among the Athenians, and in our government not only seditions but the most destructive wars, which every worthy and brave citizen who deserves to rise in the state Avill avoid and de test ; he will give himself entirely up to the service of his country, without regard to riches or to power, and he will watch over the whole so as to consult the good of all. He will even be far from bringing any man into hatred or disgrace, by ill-grounded charges, and he will so closely attach himself to the rules of justice and virtue, that how ever he may give offense he will preserve them, and incur death itself rather than swerve from the principles I have laid down.

Of all evils, ambition and the disputes for public posts are the most deplorable. Plato, likewise, on this subject, says very admirably, " that they who dispute for the management of a state, resemble mariners wrangling about who should di rect the helm." He then lays down as a rule that we ought to look upon those as our enemies who take arms against the public, and not those who want to have public affairs di rected by their judgment. For instance, Publius Africanus and Quintus Metellus differed in opinion, but without animosity.

Nor, indeed, are those to be listened to who consider that we ought to cherish a bitter resentment against our enemies, and that this is characteristic of a high-minded and brave man ; for nothing is more noble, nothing more worthy of a great and a good man, than placability and moderation.1 urally, for their good in the first place, and not his own, then may the people, as oft as they shall judge it for the best, either choose him or re ject him, retain him or depose him, though no tyrant, merely by the lib erty and right of free-born men to be governed as seems to them best This, though it can not but stand with plain reason, shall be made good also by Scripture: 'When thou art come into the land which the Lord thy God giveth thee, arid shalt say, I will set a king over me, like as all the nations about me.' — Dent. xvii. 14. These words confirm us that the right of choosing, yea of changing their own government, is by the grants of God himself in the people." — Ibid.

1 Tt is impossible not to remark how far the popular standard of duty, and the modern laws of honor, fali below this high and almost Christian morality of Cicero.

Nay, amid free nations and equality of rights, an equability and loftiness of temper is necessary, to prevent our falling into an idle, disagreeable peevishness, when we are irritated by persons approaching us unseasonably, or p eferring to us unreasonable requests. Yet this politeness and moderation ought to be so tempered, that for the sake of the interesls of the state severity should be employed, otherwise public busi ness could not be carried on. Meanwhile, all reprimands and punishments ought to be inflicted without abuse, without re gard to the party so punishing or reprimanding, but to the good of the state.

We ought, likewise, to take care that the punishment be proportioned to the offense,1 and that some be not punished for doing things for which others are not so much as called to account. Above all things, in punishing we ought to guard against passion ; for the man who is to pronounce a sentence of punishment in a passion, never can preserve that mean between what is too much and too little, which is so justly recommended by the Peripatetics, did they not too much commend the passion of anger, by asserting it to be a useful property of our nature. For my part, I think that it ought to be checked under all circumstances ;a and it were to be wished that they who preside in government were like

1 " A slight perusal of the laws by which the measures of vindictive and coercive justice are established, will discover so many disproportions between crimes and punishments, such capricious distinctions of guilt, and such confusion of remissness and severity, as can scarcely be believed to have been produced by public wisdom, sincerely and studious of public happiness." — Dr. Johnson.

a " Be ye angry, and sin not ;" therefore, all anger is not sinful ; I suppose because some degree of it, and upon some occasions, is inevitable. It becomes sinful, or contradicts, however, the rule of Scripture, when it is conceived upon slight and inadequate provocation, and when it continues long. — Paley's "Moral and Political Philosophy," book 3, chap. 7.

"From anger in its full import, protracted into malevolence, and exert ed in revenge, arise, indeed, many of the evils to which the life of man is exposed. By anger operating upon power are produced the subver sion of cities, the desolation of countries, the massacre of nations, and all those dreadful and astonishing calamities which fill the histories of the world, and which could not be read at any distant point of time, when the passions stand neutral, and every motive and principle are left to its natural force, without some doubt of the truth of the relation, did we not see the same causes still tending to the same effects, and only acting with less vigor for want of the same concurrent opportunities." — Dr. Johnson.

CHAP. xxvi. CICERO'S OFFICES. 47 the laws, which in punishing are not directed by resentments but by equity.

XXVI. Now, during our prosperity, and while things flow agreeably to our desire, we ought with great care to avoid pride and arrogance ; for, as it discovers weakness not to bear adversity with equanimity, so also with prosperity. That equanimity in every condition of life is a noble attribute, and that unL'onn expression of countenance and appearance which we find recorded of Socrates, and also of Caius Lgelius. Though Philip of Macedon was excelled by. his son in his achievements and his renown, yet I find him superior to him in politeness and goodness of nature ; the one, therefore, al ways appeared great, while the other often became detestable. So that they appear to teach rightly, who admonish us that the more advanced we are in our fortune the more affable ought we to be in our behavior. Panaetius tells us his scholar and friend, Africanus, used to say, that as horses, grown unruly by being in frequent engagements, are deliv ered over to be tamed by horse-breakers, thus men, who grow riotous and self-sufficient by prosperity, ought, as it were, to be exercised in the traverse of reason and philosophy, that they may learn the inconstancy of human affairs and the uncertainty of fortune.

In the time of our greatest prosperity we should also have the greatest recourse to the advice of our friends, and greater authority should be conceded to them than before. At such a time we are to take care not to lend our ears to flatterers, or to suffer ourselves to be imposed upon by adulation, by which it is easy to be misled : for we then think ourselves such as may be justly praised, an opinion that gives rise to a thousand eiTors in conduct ; because, when men are once blown up with idle conceits, they are exposed to ignominious rid icule and led into the greatest mistakes. So much for this subject.

One thing you are to understand, that they who regulate public affairs perform the greatest exploits, and such as require the highest style of mind, because their business is most extensive and concerns the greatest number. Yet there are, and have been, many men of great capacities, who in private life have planned out or attempted mighty matters, and yet have confined themselves to the limits of their own affairs ; or, being thrown into a middle state, between philoso phers and those who govern the state, have amused themselves with the management of their private foitune, without swelling it by all m inner of means, not debarring their friends from the benefit of it, but rather, when occasion calls upon them, shar ing it both with their fiieuds and their country. This should be originally acquired with honesty, without any scandalous or oppressive practices ; it should then be made serviceable to as many as possible, provided they be worthy ; it should next be augmented by prudence, by industry, and frugality, without serving the purposes of pleasure and luxury rather than of gen erosity and humanity. The man who observes those rules may live with magnificence, with dignity, and with spirit, yet with simplicity and honor, and agreeably to (the economy of ) hu man life.

XXVII. The next thing is, to treat of that remaining part of virtue in which consist chastity and those (as we may term them) ornaments of life, temperance, moderation, and all that allays the perturbations of the mind. Under this head is comprehended what in Latin we may call decorum (or the graceful), for the Greeks term it the nQenov. Now, its quality is such that it is indiscernible from the honestum ; for what ever is graceful is virtuous, and whatever is virtuous is grace ful.

But it is more easy to conceive than to express the differ ence between what is virtuous and what is graceful (or between the honestum and the decorum) ; for whatever is graceful appears such, when virtue is its antecedent. What is graceful, therefore, appears not only in that division of virtue which is here treated of, but in the three foregoing ones ; for it is graceful in a man to think and to spenk with propriety, to act with deliberation, and in every occurrence of life to find out and persevere in the truth. On the other hand, to be imposed upon, to mistake, to falter, and to be deceived, is as ungraceful as to rave or to be insane. Thus, whatever is just is graceful ; whatever is unjust is as un graceful as it is criminal. The same principle applies to courage ; for every manly and magnanimous action is worthy of a man, and graceful ; the reverse, as being unworthy, is un graceful.

This, therefore, which I call gracefulness, is a universal

CHAP. xxnn. CICERO'S OFFICES. 49 property of virtue, and a property that is self-evident, and not discerned by any profundity of reasoning ; for there is a cer tain gracefulness that is implied in every virtue, and which may exist distinctly from virtue, rather in thought than in fact : as grace and beauty of person, for example, can not be separated from health, so the whole of that gracefulness which I here speak of is blended with virtue, but may exist separately in the mind and in idea.

Now, the definition of this is twofojd : for there is a general gracefulness that is the property of all virtue, and that includes another, which is fitted to the particular divisions of virtue. The former is commonly defined to be that gracefulness that is conformable to that excellence of man, in which he differs from other sentient beings ; but the special, which is comprised un der the general, is defined to be a gracefulness so adapted to nature as to exhibit propriety and sweetness under a certain elegant appearance.

XXVIII. We may perceive that these things are so understood from that gracefulness which is aimed at by the poets, and of which elsewhere more is wont to be said ; for we say that the poets observe that gracefulness to be when a person speaks and acts in that manner which is most becoming his character. Thus if JEacus or Minus should say :

Let them hate me, so they fear me; Or—

The father's belly is his children's grave, it would seem unsuitable, because we know them to have been just persons ; but when said by an Atreus, they are received with applause, because the speech is worthy of the character. Now, poets will form their judgment of what is becoming in each individual according to his character ; but nature herself has stamped on us a character in excellence greatly surpassing the rest of the animal creation.

Poets, therefore, in their vast variety of characters, consider what is proper and what is becoming, even in the vicious : but as nature herself has cast to us our parts in constancy, modera tion, temperance, and modesty ; as she, at the same time, in structs us not to be unmindful how we should behave to man kind, the effect is, that the extent both of that gracefulness which is the general property of all virtue, and of that par ticular gracefulness that is adapted to every species of it, is discovered. For as personal beauty, by the symmetrical dis position of the limbs, attracts our attention and pleases the eye, by the harmony and elegance with which each part cor responds to another, so that gracefulness which manifests itself in life, attracts the approbation of those among whom we live, by the order, consistency, and modesty of all our words and deeds. There is, therefore, a degree of respect due from us, suited to every man's character, from the best to the worst : for it is not only arrogant, but it is profligate, for a man to disre gard the world's opinion of himself; but, in our estimate of human life, we are to make a difference between justice and moral susceptibility.1 The dictate of justice is to do no

1 Justice and moral susceptibility. ,] Orig. JiLsticiam et verecundiam. This is a very fine passage, and deserves to bo explained. Verecundia is commonly translated bashfulness or modesty ; but in the sense of our au thor here, neither of these two words will do ; nor am I sure that the word decency, or any word in the English tongue, comes fully up to his meaning, which is, an inborn reverence for what is right, and which sup plies the place of, and sometimes controls, the law. Many actions may be agreeable to law, and yet disagreeable to this inborn principle. The tragedian Seneca has distinguished them very finely. He brings in Pyrrhus, saying,

Pyr. Lex nulla capto parcit aut poenam impedit. To this Agamemnon replies,

Ag. Quod non vetat lex, hoc vetat fieri pudor.

Pyr. " No law exempts a captive from the sword."

Ag. " Where the law does not, moral duties bind." Our author inculcates the same principles in many other parts of his works ; and it was afterward admitted by Justinian into his Institutes. "Fide commissa appellata sunt, quia nullo vinculo juris, sed tantum pudore eorum qui rogabantur, continebantur. " " Deeds of trust were EO called, because the party intrusted was not obligated by law, but by con science or morality." Ovid has a very noble sentiment, which he seems to have taken from our author and from Plato.

Nondum justiciam facinus mortale fugarat,

Ultima de superis ilia reliquit humum ; Proque metu, populum, sine vi, pudor ipse regebat. 11 NOT justice yet had fled from human crimes, Of all their godheads she the last remained ; For awful conscience, in those happy times, Ruled without fear, and without force restrained." Verecundia or pudor, therefore, is properly an inward abhorrence of

CHAP, xrvnr. CICERO'S OFFICES. 51 wrong ; that of moral susceptibility is to give no offense to mankind, and in tins the force of the graceful is most percept ible. By these explanations I conceive that what we mean by the graceful and becoming may be understood.

Now the duty resulting from this has a primary tendency to and agreement with and conservation of our nature ; and if we follow it as a guide we never shall err, but shall attain moral turpitude, through which the conscience is awed, and may be said to blush. Plato, and from him Plutarch, makes justice and this verecundia to be inseparable companions. " God (says the former), being afraid lest the human race should entirely perish upon earth, gave to mankind justice and moral susceptibility, those ornaments of states and the bonds of society."

It is on the possession of this moral susceptibility, anterior to and in dependent of human laws, that Bishop Butler founds his ethical sj'Stem. Thus he says of man, that " from his make, constitution, or nature, he is, in the strictest and most proper sense, a law to himself;" that (lho hath the rule of right within," and that ''what is wanting is only that he honestly attend to it;" and, in enforcing the authority of this natural monitor, "your obligation to obey this law is its being the law of your nature. That your conscience approves of and attests to such a course of action is itself alone an obligation. Conscience does not only offer itself to show us the way we should walk in, but it likewise carries its own authority with it, that it is our natural guide — the guide assigned us by the Author of our nature. It, therefore, belongs to our condition of being ; it is our duty to walk in that path, and to follow this guide, without looking about to see whether we may not possibly forsake them with impunity." It is with a like reference that Lord Bacon says : — " The light of nature not only shines upon the human mind through the medium of a rational faculty, but by an internal instinct, according to the law of conscience, which is a sparkle of the purity of man's first estate." But a parallel passage from the pen of Cicero himself, affords a still fuller and loftier enunciation of this principle: — "There is, indeed, one true and original law, conformable to reason and to nature, diffused over all, invariable, eternal, which calls to the fulfillment of duty and to abstinence from injustice, and which calls with that irresistible voice which is felt in all its authority wherever it is heard. This law can not be abolished or curtailed, nor affected in its sanctions by any law of man. A whole senate, a whole people, can not dispense from its paramount obligation. It requires no commentator to render it distinctly intelligible, nor is it different at Rome, and at Athens, at the present, and in ages to come ; but in all times and in all nations, it is, and has been, and will be, one and everlasting — one as that God, its great Author and promulgator, who is the common sovereign of all mankind, is himself one. No man can disobey it without flying, as it were, from his own bosom and repudiating his nature, and in this very act will inflict on himself the severest of retributions, even, though he escape what is commonly re garded as punishment."

to that natural excellence which consists in acuteness and sagacity, to that which is best adapted to human society, and to that which is energetic and manly.1 But the chief force of the fraceful lies in that suitableness of which I am now treating, or not only those emotions of a physical kind, but still more those of the mind are to be approved as they are comformable to nature. For the nature and powers of the mind are two fold ; one consists in appetite, by the Greeks called OQ^ (i. e. impulse), which hurries man hither and thither ; the other in reason, which teaches and explains what we are to do, and what we are to avoid. The result is, that reason should direct and appetite obey.

XXIX. Now every human action ought to be free from precipitancy and negligence, nor indeed ought we to do any thing for which we can not give a justifiable reason. This indeed almost amounts to a definition of duty. Now we must manage so as to keep the appetites subservient to reason, that they may neither outstrip it nor fall behind through sloth and cowardice. Let them be ever composed and free from all -perturbation of spirit; and thus entire consistency and moderation will display themselves. For those appetites that are too vagrant and rampant as it were, either through desire or aversion, are not sufficiently under the command of reason ; such, I say, undoubtedly transgress bounds and moderation. For they abandon and disclaim that subordination to reason, to which by the law of nature they are subjected, and thereby not only the mind but the body is thrown into disturbance. Let any one observe the very looks of men who are in a rage, of those who are agitated by desire or fear, or who exult in an excess of joy; all whose countenances, voices, motions, and attitudes, are changed.

But to return to my description of duty. From these par ticulars we learn that all our appetites ought to be contracted and mitigated ; that all our attention and diligence ought to be awake, so that we do nothing in a rash, random, thought less, and inconsiderate manner. For nature has not formed us to sport and merriment, but rather to seriousness, and studies that are important and sublime. Sport and merriment

1 In other words, to wisdom, justice, and fortitude.

CHAP. xxx. CICERO'S OFFICES. 53 are not always disallowable : but we are to use them as we do sleep and other kinds of repose, when we have dispatched our weighty and important affairs. Nay, our very manner of jok ing should be neither wanton nor indecent, but genteel and good-humored. For as we indulge boys not in an unlimited license of sport, but only in that which is not inconsistent with virtuous conduct, so in our very jokes there should appear some gleam of a virtuous nature.

The manner of joking is reduceable under two denomina tions ; — one that is ill-bred, insolent, profligate, and obscene ; another that is elegant, polite, witty, and good-humored. We have abundance of this last, not only in our Plautus, and the authors of the old Greek comedy, but in the writings of the Socratic philosophers. Many collections have likewise been made by various writers, of humorous sayings, such as that made by Cato, and called his Apopthegms. The disdinction, therefore, between a genteel and an ill-mannered joke is a very ready one. The former, if seasonably made, and when the attention is relaxed, is worthy of a virtuous man; the other, if it exhibit immorality in its subject, or obscenity in the expression, is unworthy even of a man. There is likewise a certain limit to be observed, even in our amusements, that we do not give up every thing to amusement, and that, after being elevated by pleasure, we do not sink into some immorality. Our Campus Martius, and the sport of hunting, supply creditable examples of amusement.

XXX. But in all our disquisitions concerning the nature of a duty, it is material that we keep in our eye the great excel lence of man's nature above that of the brutes and all other crea tures. They are insensible to every thing but pleasure, and are hurried to it by every impulse. Whereas the mind of man is nourished by study and reflection, and, being charmed by the pleasure of seeing and hearing, it is ever either inquiring or acting. But if there is a man who has a small bias to pleasure, provided he is not of the brute kind (for there are some who are men only in name) ; but, I say, if he is more high-minded even in a small degree, though he may be smitten with pleas ure, he yet, through a principle of shame, hides and disguises his inclination for it.

From this we aro to conclude that mere corporeal pleasure is unworthy the excellence of man's nature ; and that it ought therefore to be despised and rejected; but that if a man shall have any delight in pleasure, he ought to be extremely observant of limits in its indulgence. Therefore the nourish ment and dress of our bodies should be with a view not to our pleasure, but to our health and our strength ; and should we examine the excellence and dignity of our nature, we should then be made sensible how shameful it is to melt away in pleas ure, and to live in voluptuousness and effeminacy ; and how noble it is to live with abstinence, with modesty, with strict ness, and sobriety.

"We are likewise to observe that nature has, as it were, en dowed us with two characters. The first is in common to all mankind, because all of us partake in that excellency of reason, which places us above the brutes ; from which is derived all that is virtuous, all that is graceful, and by which we trace our connections with our several duties. The other character is peculiar to individuals. For, as there are great dissimilarities in our persons — some for instance are swift in running, others strong in wrestling; and in style of beauty some have a dignity, and others a sweetness of aspect — so are there still greater varieties in our minds.

Lucius Crassus and Lucius Philippus had a great deal of wit; but in Caius Caesar, the son of Lucius, it was greater in degree, and more elaborate. In their cotemporaries, Marcus Scaurus, and young Marcus Drusus, there was a remarkable seriousness ; in Caius Lselius great hilarity ; but in his friend Scipio greater ambition, and a graver style of life. As to the Greeks, we are told of Socrates that he was agreeable and witty ; his conversation jocose, and in all his discourse a feigner of opinions whom the Greeks called si'qwv. On the other hand, Pythagoras and Pericles, without any gayety, attained the highest authority. Among the Carthaginian generals, Hannibal, we learn, was crafty, and Quintus Maximus among our own generals was apt at con cealment, secrecy, dissimulation, plotting, and anticipating the designs of enemies. In this class the Greeks rank Themistocles, and lason of Pherse, above all others ; and place among the very first, that cunning and artful device of Solon, when, to secure his own life, and that he might be of greater service to his country, he counterfeited madness. In opposition to

CHAP. TYXT. CICERO'S OFFICES. 55 those characters, the tempers of many others are plain and open. Lovers of truth and haters of deceit, they think that nothing should be done by stealth, nothing by stratagem; while others care not what they suffer themselves, or whom fhey stoop to, provided they accomplish their ends; as we have seen Sylla and Marcus Crassus. In which class Lysander the Lacedaemonian, we are told, had the greatest art and per severance, and that Callicratides, who succeeded to Lysander in the command of the fleet, was the reverse. We have known some others, who though very powerful in conversation, always make themselves appear undistinguished individuals among many ; such were the Catuli, father and son, and Quintus Mucius Mancia. I have heard from men older than myself, that Publius Scipio Nasica was of the same cast, but that his father, the same who punished the pernicious designs of Tiberius Gracchus, was void of all politeness in conver sation : and the same of Xenocrates, the most austere of philosophers, and from that very circumstance a distinguished and celebrated man. Innjumerable, but far from being blamable, are the other differences in the natures and manners of men.

XXXI. Every man, however, ought carefully to follow out his peculiar character, provided it is only peculiar, and not vicious, that he may the more easily attain that gracefulness of which we are inquiring. For we ought to manage so as never to counteract the general system of nature ; but having taken care of that, we are to follow our natural bias ; insomuch, that though other studies may be of greater weight and excellence, yet we are to regulate our pursuits by the disposition of our nature. It is to no purpose to thwart nature, or to aim at what you can not attain. We therefore may have a still clearer conception of the graceful I am recommending, from this consideration, that nothing is graceful that goes (as the saying is) against the grain, that is, in contradiction and oppo sition to nature.

If any thing at all is graceful, nothing surely is more so than a uniformity through the course of all your life, as well as through every particular action of it; and you never can preserve this uniformity, if, aping another man's nature, you forsake your own. For as we ought to converse in the language we are best acquainted with, for fear of making ourselves justly ridiculous, as those do who cram in Greek expressions ; so there ought to be no incongruity in our actions, and none in all the tenor of our lives.1

Now so powerful is this difference of natures, that it may be the duty of one man to put himself to death, and yet not of another, though in the same predicament. For was the pre dicament of Marcus Cato different from that of those who sur rendered themselves to Caesar in Africa ? Yet it had been perhaps blamable in the latter, had they put themselves to death, because their lives were less severe, and their moral natures more pliable. But it became Cato, who had by per petual perseverance strengthened that inflexibility which nature had given him, and had never departed from the purpose and resolution he had once formed, to die rather than to look upon the face of a tyrant.2

1 " Decency, or a proper regard to age, sex, character, and station in the world, may be ranked among the qualities which are immediately agreeable to others, and which by that means acquire praise and appro bation. An effeminate behavior in a man, a rough manner in a woman, these are ugly because unsuitable to each character, and different from the qualities which we expect in the sexes. It is as if a tragedy abound ed in comic beauties, or a comedy in tragic. The disproportions hurt the eye, and convey a disagreeable sentiment to the spectators, the source of blame and disapprobation. This is that indecorum which is explained so much at large by Cicero in his Offices." — Hume's "Principles of Morals," sec. 8.

2 The guilt of suicide has been palliated by Godwin, and utterly de nied by Hume. The following remarks emanated from a sounder moral ist than either :

" The lesson which the self-destroyer teaches to his connections, of sinking in despair under the evils of life, is one of the most pernicious which a man can bequeath. The power of the example is also great. Every act of suicide tacitly conveys the sanction of one more judgment in its favor ; frequency of repetition diminishes the sensation of abhor rence, and makes succeeding sufferers resort to it with less reluctance." "Besides which general reasons," says Dr. Paley, (" Moral and Political Philosophy," book 4, c. 3), " each case will be aggravated by its own proper and particular consequences; by the duties that are deserted ; by the claims that are defrauded ; by the loss, affliction, or disgrace, which our death, or the manner of it, causes our family, kindred, or friends ; by the occasion we give to many to suspect the sincerity of our moral and religious professions, and together with ours those of all others;" and lastly by the scandal which we bring upon religion itself, by declaring practically that it is not able to support man under the-calamities of life. Some men say that the New Testament contains no prohibition of suicide. If this were true it would avail nothing, because there are many things

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How various were those sufferings of Ulysses, in his long continued wanderings, when he became the slave of women (if you consider Circe and Calypso as such) : and in all he said he sought to be complaisant and agreeable to every body, nay, put up with abuses from slaves and handmaidens at home, that he might at length compass what he desired ; but with the spirit with which he is represented, Ajax would have preferred a thousand deaths to suffering such indignities.

In the contemplation of which each ought to consider what is peculiar to himself, and to regulate those peculiarities, with out making any experiments how another man's become them ; for that manner which is most peculiarly a man's own always becomes him best.

Every man ought, therefore, to study his own genius, so as to become an impartial judge of his own good and bad qualities, otherwise the players will discover better sense than we ; for they don't choose for themselves those parts that are the most excellent, but those which are best adapted to them. Those who rely on their voices choose the part of Epigonas or Medus ; the best actors that of Menalippa or Clytemnestra. Rupilius, who I remember, always selected that of Antiopa ; Esopus seldom chose that of Ajax. Shall a player, then, observe this upon the stage, and shall a wise man not observe it in the conduct of life ? Let us, there fore, most earnestly apply to those parts for which we are best fitted ; but should necessity degrade us into characters which it does not forbid, but which every one knows to be wicked. But in reality it does forbid it. Every exhortation which it gives to be pa tient, every encouragement to trust in God, every consideration which it urges as a support under affliction and distress, is a virtual prohibition of suicide ; because if a man commits suicide he rejects every such ad vice and encouragement, and disregards every such motive.

" To him who believes either in revealed or natural religion, there is a certain folly in the commission of suicide ; for from what does he fly ? from his present sufferings, while death, for aught that he has reason to expect, or at any rate for aught that he knows, may only be the portal to sufferings more intense. Natural religion, I think, gives no counten ance to the supposition that suicide can be approved by the Deity, be cause it proceeds upon the belief that, in another state of existence, he will compensate good men for the sufferings of the present. At the best, and under either religion, it is a desperate stake. He that commits murder may repent, and, we hope, be forgiven ; but he that destroys himself, while he incurs a load of guilt, cuts off by the act the power of repentance."— Dymond's Essays, Essay ii. chap. 16.

unsuitable to our genius, let us employ all our care, attention, and industry, in endeavoring to perform them, if not with pro priety, with as little impropriety as possible : nor should we strive so much to attain excellencies which have not been con ferred on us, as to avoid defects.

XXXII. To the two characters above described is added a third, which either accident or occasion imposes on us ; and even a fourth, which we accommodate to ourselves by our own judgment and choice. Now kingdoms, governments, honors, dignities, riches, interest, and whatever are the qualities con trary to them, happen through accident, and are directed by occasions ; but what part we ourselves should wish to act, originates from our own will. Some, therefore, apply to philos ophy, to the civil law, and some to eloquence ; and of the virtues themselves some endeavor to shine in one, and some in another.

Men generally are ambitious of distinguishing themselves in that kind of excellence in which their fathers or their an cestors were most famous : for instance, Quintus, the son of Publius Mucius, in the civil law ; Africanus, the son of Paulus, in the art of war. Some, however, increase, by merits of their own, that glory which they have received from their fathers; for the same Africanus crowned his military glory with the practice of eloquence. In like manner, Timotheus, the son of Conon, who equaled his father in the duties of the field, but added to them the glory of genius and learn ing. Sometimes, however, it happens that men, laying aside the imitation of their ancestors, follow a purpose of their own ; and this is most commonly the case with such men who, though de scended from obscure ancestors, purpose to themselves great aims.

In our search, then, after what is graceful, all those particu lars ought to be embraced in our contemplation and study. In the first place, we are to determine who and what manner of men we are to be, and what mode of life we are to adopt — a consideration which is the most difficult of all ; for, in our early youth, there is the greatest weakness of judgment, every one chooses to himself that kind of life which he has most fancied. He, therefore, is trepanned into some fixed and settled course of living before he is capable to judge what is the most proper.1

1 " I have often thought those happy that have been fixed, from the first

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For the Hercules of Prodicus, as we learn from Xenophon, in his early puberty (an age appointed by nature for every man's choosing his scheme of life) is said to have gone into a solitude, and there sitting down, to have deliberated within himself much, and for a long time, whether of two paths that he saw before him it was better to enter on, the one of pleasure, the other of virtue. This might, indeed, happen to a Jovebegotten Hercules ; but not so with us, who imitate those whom we have an opinion of, and are thereby drawn into their pursuits and purposes : for generally prepossessed by the principles of our parents, we are drawn away to their customs and habits. Others, swayed by the judgment of the multitude,' are passionately fond of those things which seem best to the majority. A few, however, either through some good fortune, or a certain excellency of nature, or through the training of their parents, pursue the right path of life.

XXXIII. The rarest class is composed of those who, en dowed with an exalted genius, or with excellent education and learning, or possessing both, have had scope enough for deliber ating as to what course of life they would be most willing to adopt. Every design, in such a deliberation, ought to be re ferred to the natural powers of the individual ; for since, as I said before, we discover this propriety in every act which is per formed, by reference to the qualities with which a man is born, so, in fixing the plan of our future life, we ought to be still much more careful in that respect, that we may be consistent throughout the duration of life with ourselves, and not deficient in any one duty.

But because nature in this possesses the chief power, and dawn of thought, in a determination to some state of life, by the choice of one whose authority may preclude caprice, and whose influence may prej udice them in favor of his opinion. The general precept of consulting the genius is of little use, unless we are told how the genius can be known. If it is to be discovered only by experiment, life will be lost before the resolution can be fixed ; if any other indications are to be found, they may, perhaps, be very early discerned. At least, if to mis carry in an attempt be a proof of having mistaken the direction of the genius, men appear not less frequently deceived with regard to themselves than to others ;" and therefore no one has much reason to complain that his life was planned out by his friends, or to be confident that he should have had either more honor or happiness, by being abandoned to th» chance of his own fancy." — Dr, Johnson's " Rambler," No. 19.

fortune the next, we ought to pay regard to both in fixing our scheme of life ; but chiefly to nature, as she is much more firm and constant, insomuch that the struggle some times between nature and fortune, seems to be between a mortal and an immortal being. The man, therefore, who adapts his whole system of living to his undepraved nature, let him maintain his constancy ; for that, above all things, be comes a man, provided he come not to learn that he has been mistaken in his choice of a mode of life. Should that occur, as it possibly may, a change must be made in all his habits and purposes which, if circumstances shall be favorable, we shall more easily and readily effect ; but, should it happen otherwise, it must be done slowly and gradually. Thus men of sense think it more suitable that friendships which are disagreeable or not approved should be gradually detached, rather than sud denly cut off. Still, upon altering our scheme of life, we ought to take the utmost care to make it appear that we have done it upon good grounds.

But if, as I said above, we are to imitate our ancestors, this should be first excepted that their bad qualities must not be imitated. In the next place, if nature does not qualify us to imitate them in some things, we are not to attempt it : for instance, the son of the elder Africanus, who adopted the younger son of Paulus, could not, from infirmity of health, resemble his father so much as his father did his grand father. If, therefore, a man is unable to defend causes, to entertain the people, by haranguing, or to wage war, yet still he ought to do what is in his power ; he ought to practice jus tice, honor, generosity, modesty, and temperance, that what is wanting may be the less required of him. Now, the best inheritance a parent can leave a child — more excellent than any patrimony — is the glory of his virtue and his deeds ; to bring disgrace on which ought to be regarded as wicked and monstrous.

XXXIV. And as the same moral duties are not suited to the different periods of life, some belonging to the young, others to the old, we must likewise say somewhat on this distinc tion. It is the duty of a young man to reverence his elders, and among them to select the best and the worthiest, on whose advice and authority to rely. For the inexperience of youth ought to be instructed and conducted by the wisdom

CHAP, xxxiv. CICERO'S OFFICES. 61 of the aged. Above all things, the young man ought to be restrained from lawless desires, and exercised in endurance and labor both of body and mind, that by persevering in them, he may be efficient in the duties both of war and peace. Nay, when they even unbend their minds and give themselves up to mirth, they ought to avoid intemperance, and never lose sight of morality ; and this will be the more easy if even upon such oc casions they desire that their elders should be associated with them.1

As to old men, their bodily labors seem to require diminution, but the exercises of their mind ought even to be increased. Their care should be to assist their friends, the youth, and above all their country, to the utmost of their ability by their advice and experience. Now there is nothing that old age ought more carefully to guard against, than giving itself up to listlessness and indolence. As to luxury, though it is shameful in every stage of life, in old age it is detestable ; but if to that is added intemperance in lawless desires, the evil is doubled ; be cause old age itself thereby incurs disgrace ; and makes the excesses of the young more shameless.2

Neither is it foreign to my purpose to touch upon the duties of magistrates, of private citizens, and of strangers. It is then the peculiar duty of a magistrate to bear in mind that he rep resents the state, and that he ought, therefore, to maintain its dignity and glory, to preserve its constitution, to act by its laws, and to remember that these things are committed to his fidel-

1 So Dr. South describes joy as exhibited by Adam in the state of inno cence, in the most remarkable of his productions, the sermon entitled "Man created in God's image." "It was (says he) refreshing, but com posed, like the gayety of youth tempered with the gravity of age, or the mirth of a festival managed with the silence of contemplation." The course here prescribed was adopted in the institutions of Lycurgus, and recommended by Plato.

2 " It may very reasonably be suspected that the old draw upon them selves the greatest parts of those insults which they so much lament, and that age is rarely despised but when it is contemptible. If men imagine that excessive debauchery can be made reverend by time, that knowl edge is the consequence of long life, however idly and thoughtlessly em ployed, that priority of birth will supply the want of steadiness or honesty, can it raise much wonder that their hopes are disappointed, and that they see their posterity rather willing to trust their own eyes in their progress into life, than enlist themselves under guides who have lost their way ?" — Dr. Johnson.

ity.1 As to a private man and citizen, his duty is to live upon a just and equal footing with his fellow-citizens, neither subor dinate and subservient nor domineering. In his sentiments of the public to be always for peaceful and virtuous measures ; for such we are accustomed to imagine and describe a virtuous citizen.

Now the duty of a stranger and an alien is, to mind nothing but his own business, not to intermeddle with another, and least of all to be curious about the affairs of a foreign government. Thus we shall generally succeed in the practice of the moral duties, when we inquire after what is most becoming and best fitted to persons, occasions, and ages ; and nothing is more be coming than in all our actions and in all our deliberations to preserve consistency.

XXXV. But, because the graceful or becoming character we treat of appears in all our words and actions, nay, in every motion and disposition of our person, and consists of three par ticulars, beauty, regularity, and appointment suited to action (ideas which indeed are difficult to be expressed, but it is suffi cient if they are understood) ; and as in these three heads is comprehended our care to be approved by those among whom and with whom we live, on them also a few observations must be made. In the first place nature seems to have paid a great regard to the form of our bodies, by exposing to the sight all that part of our figure that has a beautiful appearance, while she has covered and concealed those parts which were given for the necessities of nature, and which would have been offen sive and disagreeable to the sight.

This careful contrivance of nature has been imitated by the modesty of mankind ; for all men in their senses conceal from the eye the parts which nature has hid ; and they take

1 Respecting the ultimate possession of political power by the govern ed, and the consequently delegated power of rulers, we have the follow ing striking passage in "Hall's Liberty of the Press:" "With the enemies of freedom it is a usual artifice to represent the sovereignty of the people as a license to anarchy and disorder. But the tracing of civil power to that source will not diminish our obligation to obey ; it only ex plains its reasons, and settles it on clear determinate principles. It turns blind submission into rational obedience, tempers the passion for liberty with the love of order, and places mankind in a happy medium, between the extremes of anarchy on the on$ side, and oppression on the other. It is the polar star that will conduct us safe over the ocean of political debate and speculation, the law of laws, the legislator of legislators."

CHAP. XXXYI. CICERO'S OFFICES. 63 care that they should discharge as privately as possible even the necessities of nature. And those parts which serve those necessities, and the necessities themselves, are not called by their real names ; because that which is not shameful it* privately performed, it is still obscene to describe. There fore neither the public commission of those things, nor tho obscene expression of them, is free from immodesty.

Neither are we to regard the Cynics or the Stoics, who are next to Cynics, who abuse and ridicule us for deeming things that are not shameful in their own nature, to become vicious through names and expressions. Now, we give every thing that is disgraceful in its own nature its proper term. Theft, fraud, adultery, are disgraceful in their own nature, but not obscene in the expression. The act of be getting children is virtuous, but the expression obscene. Thus, a great many arguments to the same purpose are maintained by these philosophers in subversion of delicacy. Let us, for our parts, follow nature, and avoid whatever is offensive to the eyes or ears ; let us aim at the graceful or becoming, whether we stand or walk, whether we sit or lie down, in every motion of our features, our eyes, or our hands.

In those matters two things are chiefly to be avoided ; that there be nothing effeminate and foppish, nor any thing coarse and clownish. Neither are we to admit, that those considerations are proper for actors and orators, but not binding upon us. The manners at least of the actors, from the morality of our ancestors, are so decent that none of them appear upon the stage without an under-covering ; being afraid lest if by any accident certain parts of the body should be exposed, they should make an indecent appearance. According to our customs, sons grown up to manhood do not bathe along with their fathers, nor sons-in-law with their fathers-in-law. Modesty of this kind, therefore, is to be cherished, especially as nature herself is our instructor and guide.

XXXVI. Now as beauty is of two kinds, one that consists in loveliness, and the other in dignity ; loveliness we should regard as the characteristic of women, dignity of men : therefore, let a man remove from his person every ornament that is unbecoming a man, and let him take the same care of every similar fault with regard to his gesture or motion. For very often the movements learned in the Palaestra are offens ive, and not a few impertinent gestures among the players are productive of disgust, while in both whatever is unaffected and simple is received with applause. Now, comeliness in the person is preserved by the freshness of the complexion, and that freshness by the exercises of the body. To this we are to add, a neatness that is neither troublesome nor too much studied, but which just avoids all clownish, ill-bred slovenness. The same rules are to be observed with regard to ornaments of dress, in which, as in all other matters, a mean is preferable.

We must likewise avoid a drawling solemn pace in walk ing, so as to seem like bearers in a procession ; and likewise in matters that require dispatch, quick, hurried motions ; which, when they occur, occasion a shortness of breathing, an alteration in the looks, and a convulsion in the features, all which strongly indicate an inconstant character. But still greater should be our care that the movements of our mind never depart from nature ; in which we shall succeed if we guard against falling into any flurry and disorder of spirit, and keep our faculties intent on the preservation of propriety. Now the motions of the mind are of two kinds, the one of reflection and the other of appetite. Reflection chiefly applies itself in the search of truth. Appetite prompts us to action. We are therefore to take care to employ our reflection upon the best subjects, and to render our appetite obedient to our reason.

XXXVII. And since the influence of speech is very great and that of two kinds — one proper for disputing, the other for discoursing — the former should be employed in plead ings at trials, in assemblies of the people, and meetings of the senate ; the latter in social circles, disquisitions, the meetings of our friends, and should likewise attend upon entertainments. Rhetoricians lay down rules for disputing, but none for dis coursing, though I am not sure but that likewise may be done. Masters are to be found in all pursuits in which there are learners, and all places are filled with crowds of rhetori cians ; but there are none who study this, and yet all the rules that are laid down for words and sentiments (in debate) are likewise applicable to conversation.

CHAP, xxx. vii. CICERO'S OFFICES. 65

But, as we have a voice as the organ of speech, we ought to aim at two properties in it : first that it be clear, and secondly that it be agreeable ; both are unquestionably to be sought from nature ; and yet practice may improve the one, and imitating those who speak nervously and distinctly, the other. There was, in the Catuli, nothing by which you could conclude them possessed of any exquisite judgment in language, though learned to be sure they were ; and so have others been. But the Catuli were thought to excel in the Latin tongue ; their pronunciation was harmonious, their words were neither mouthed nor minced ; so that their ex pression was distinct, without being unpleasant; while their voice, without strain, was neither faint nor shrill. The manner of Lucius Crassus was more flowing, and equally elegant ; though the opinion concerning the Catuli, as good speakers, was not less. But Csesar, brother to the elder Catulus, exceeded all in wit and humor ; insomuch that even in the forensic style of speaking, he with his conversational manner, surpassed the energetic eloquence of others. There fore, in all those matters, we must labor diligently if we would discover what is the point of propriety in every instance.

Let our common discourse therefore (and this is the great excellence of the followers of Socrates) be smooth and goodhumored, without the least arrogance. Let there be pleas antry in it. Nor let any one speaker exclude all others as if he were entering on a province of his own, but consider that in conversation, as in other things, alternate participa tion is but fair.1 But more especially let him consider on what subjects he should speak. If serious, let him use grav ity; if merry, good-humor. But a man ought to take the

1 " As the mutual shocks in society and the opposition of interest and self-love, have constrained mankind to establish the laws of justice, in order to preserve the advantages of mutual assistance and protection ; in like manner, the eternal contrarieties in company of men's pride and selfconceit, have introduced the rules of good manners or politeness, in order to facilitate the intercourse of minds and an undisturbed commerce and conversation. Among well-bred people, a mutual deference is effected, contempt of others disguised, authority concealed, attention given to each in his time, and an easy stream of conversation maintained, without vehemence, without interruption, without eagerness for victory, and with out any airs of superiority. These attentions and regards are immedi ately agreeablo to others, abstracted from any consideration of utility or beneficial tendencies; they conciliate affection, promote esteem, and exgreatest care that his discourse betray no defect in his mo rals ; and this generally is the case when for the sake of de traction we eagerly speak of the absent in a malicious, ridic ulous, harsh, bitter, and contemptuous manner.

Now conversation generally turns upon private concerns, or politics, or the pursuits of art and learning. We are, therefore, to study, whenever our conversation begins to ramble to other subjects, to recall it : and whatever subjects may present themselves (for we are not at all pleased with the same subjects and that similarly and at all times) we should observe how far our conversation maintains its interest ; and as there was a reason for beginning so there should be a limit at which to conclude.

XXXVIII. But as we are very properly enjoined, in all the course of our life, to avoid all fits of passion, that is, ex cessive emotions of the mind uncontrolled by reason ; in like manner, our conversation ought to be free from all such emo tions; so that neither resentment manifest itself, nor undue desire, nor slovenness, nor indolence, nor any thing of that kind ; and, above all things, we should endeavor to indicate both esteem and love for those we converse with. Re proaches may sometimes be necessary, in which we may per haps be obliged to employ a higher strain of voice and a harsher turn of language. Even in that case, we ought only to seem to do these things in anger ; but as, in the cases of cautery and amputations, so with this kind of correction we should have recourse to it seldom and unwillingly ; and in deed, never but when no other remedy can be discovered ; but still, let all passion be avoided ; for with that nothing can be done with rectitude, nothing with discretion.

In general it is allowable to adopt a mild style of rebuke, combining it with seriousness, so that severity may be indi cated but abusive language avoided. Nay, even what of bitterness there is in the reproach should be shown to have tremely enhance the merit of the person who regulates his behavior by them.

" In conversation, the lively spirit of dialogue is agreeable even to those who desire not to have any share in the discourse. Hence the relater of long stories, or the pompous declaimer is very little approved of; But most men desire likewise their time in the conversation, and regard with a very evil eye that loquacity which deprives them of a right they are naturally so zealous of." — Hume's "Principles of Morals," sec. viii.

CHAP, xxxix CICERO'S OFFICES. 67 been adopted for the sake of the party reproved. Now, it is advisable, even in those disputes which take place with our bitterest enemies, if we hear any that is insulting to ourselves to maintain our equanimity, and repress passion ; for what ever is done under such excitement can never be either con sistently performed, or approved of by those who are present.1 It is likewise indecent for a man to be loud in his own praise (and the more so if it be false), and so to imitate the swagger ing soldier (in the play) amidst the derision of the auditors.

XXXIX. Now, as I touch, at least wish to touch, upon every matter of duty, I shall likewise treat of the kind of house which I think suited to a man of high rank and office ; the end of this being utility, to it the design of the building must be adapted, but still regard must be paid to magnifi cence and elegance. We learn that it was to the honor of Cneius Octavius, the first of that family who was raised to the consulship, that he built upon the Palatine, a house of a noble and majestic appearance, which, as it was visited as a spectacle by the common people, was supposed to have voted its proprietor, though but a new man, into the consulship. Scaurus demolished this house, and took the ground into his own palace. But though the one first brought a consulship into his family, yet the other, though the son of a man of the greatest rank and distinction, carried into this, his enlarged palace, not only repulse but disgrace, nay ruin.

1 " The command of anger appears, upon many occasions, not less gener ous and noble than that of fear. The proper expression of just indig nation composes many of the most splendid and admired passages both of ancient and modern eloquence. The Philippics of Demosthenes, the Catilinarians of Cicero derive their whole beauty from the noble propri ety with which this passion is expressed. But this just indignation is nothing but anger restrained and properly attempered to what the im partial spectator can enter into. The blustering and noisy passion which goes beyond this is always odious and offensive, and interests us, not for the angry man but the man with whom he is angry. The noble ness of pardoning appears, upon many occasions, superior even to the most perfect propriety of resenting, when either proper acknowledg ments have been made by the offending party, or, even without any such acknowledgments, when the public interest requires that the most mortal enemies should unite for the discharge of some important duty. The man who can cast away all animosity, and act with confidence and cordiality toward the person who had most grievously offended him, seems justly to merit our highest admiration." — Smith's " Moral Senti ments," part vi. section iii.

For dignity should be adorned by a palace, but not be wholly sought from it : — the house ought to be ennobled by the master, and not the master by the house. And, as in other matters a man should have regard to others and not to his own concerns alone, so in the house of a man of rank, who is to entertain a great many guests and to admit a multitude of all denominations, attention should be paid to spaciousness ; but a great house often reflects discredit upon its master, if there is solitude in it, especially if, under a former proprietor, it has been accustomed to be well filled. It is a mortifying thing when passengers exclaim, " Ah ! ancient dwelling ! by how degenerate a master art thou occupied !" which may well be said at the present time of a great many houses.

But you are to take care, especially if you build for yourself, not to go beyond bounds in grandeur and costliness. Even the example of an excess of this kind does much mischief. For most people, particularly in this respect, studiously imitate the example of their leaders. For instance, who imitates the virtue of the excellent Lucius Lucullus ? But how many there are who have imitated the magnificence of his villas. To which certainly a bound ought to be set, and it reduced to moderation, and the same spirit of moderation ought to be extended to all the practice and economy of life. But of this enough.

Now in undertaking every action we are to regard three things. First, that appetite be subservient to reason, than which there is no condition better fitted for preserving the moral duties. We are, secondly, to examine how important the object in which we desire to accomplish, that our atten tion or labor may be neither more nor less than the occasion requires. Thirdly, we are to take care that every thing that comes under the head of magnificence and dignity should be well regulated. Now, the best regulation is, to observe that some graceful propriety which I have recommended, and to go no further. But of those three heads, the most excellent is, that of making our appetites subservient to our reason.

XL. I am now to speak concerning the order and the timing of things. In this science is comprehended what the Greek call eftmi/a, not that which we Romans call mode ration, an expression that implies keeping within bounds ; whereas that is EvTu£icc, in which the preservation of order is

CHAP. XL. CICERO'S OFFICES. 69 involved. This duty, which we will denominate moderation, is defined by the Stoics as those things which are either said or done in their appropriate places of ranging. Therefore, the signification of order and of arrangement seems to be the same. For they define order to be the disposing of things into fitting and convenient places. Now they tell us that the appropriate place of an action is the oppor tunity of doing it. The proper opportunity for action being called by the Greeks stxnQtu, and by the Latins, occasio, or occasion. Thus, as I have already observed, that modestia which we have thus explained is the knowledge of acting according to the fitness of a conjuncture.

But prudence, of which we have treated in the beginning of this book, may admit of the same definition. Under this head, however, I speak of moderation and temperance, and the like virtues. Therefore, the considerations which belong to prudence have been treated in their proper place. But at present I am to treat of those virtues I have been so long speaking of, which relate to morality, and the approbation of those with whom we live.

Such then should be the regularity of all our actions, that in the economy of life, as in a connected discourse, all things may agree and correspond. For it would be unbecoming and highly blamable, should we, when upon a serious subject, introduce the language of the jovial or the effemi nate. When Pericles had for his colleague in the prsetoiship Sophocles the poet, and as they were discoursing upon their joint official duty, a beautiful boy by chance passed by, Sophocles exclaimed, " What a charming boy, Pericles !" but Pericles very properly told him, "A magistrate ought to keep not only his hands, but his eyes under restraint." Now Sophocles, had he said the same thing at a trial of athletic performers would not have been liable to this just reprimand, such importance there is in the time and place. So, too, a man, who is going to plead a cause, if on a journey or in a walk he should muse or appear to himself more thoughtful than ordinary, he is not blamed: but should he do this at an entertainment, he would seem ill-bred for not distingnishing times.

But those actions that are in wide discrepancy with goodbreeding, such, for instance, as singing in the forum, or

70 CICEEO'S OFFICES. BOOK i.

any such absurdity, are so easily discernible, that they re quire no great degree of reprehension or advice. But faults that seem to be inconsiderable, and such as are discernible only by a few, are to be more carefully avoided. As in lutes or pipes, however little they be out of tune, it is per ceived by a practiced ear ; so in life we are to guard against all discrepancy, and the rather as the harmony of morals is greater and much more valuable than that of sounds.

XLI. Thus, as the ear is sensible to the smallest discord in musical instruments, so we, if we desire to be accurate and attentive observers of faults, may make great discoveries from very trifling circumstances. The cast of the eye, the bending or unbending of the brow, an air of dejection or cheerfulness, laughter, the tone of words, silence, the raising or falling of the voice, and the like circumstances, we may easily form a judgment which of them are in their pro per state, and which of them are in discord with duty and nature. Now in this case, it is advisable to judge from others, of the condition and properties of every one of those, so that we ourselves may avoid those things that are unbecoming in others. For it happens, I know not how, that we perceive what is defective more readily in others than we do in ourselves. Therefore, when masters mimic the faults of boys that they may amend them, those boys are most easily corrected.

Neither is it improper, in order to fix our choice in matters which involve a doubt, if we apply to men of learning and also of experience, and learn what they think of the several kinds of duty ; for the greatest part of such men are usually led to that conclusion to which nature herself directs ; and in these cases, we are to examine not only what a man says, but what he thinks, and upon what ground he thinks it. For as painters, statuaries, and even poets, want to have their works canvassed by the public in order to correct any thing that is generally condemned, and examine both by themselves and with others where the defect lies ; thus we ought to make use of the judgment of others to do, and not to do, to alter and correct, a great many things.

As to actions resulting from the customs or civil institu tions of a people, no precepts can be laid down ; for those very institutions are precepts in themselves. Nor ought men

CHAP. ILL CICERO'S OFFICES. 71 to be under the mistake to imagine that if Socrates or Aristippus acted or spoke in opposition to the manners and civil constitutions of their country, they themselves have a similar license.1 For this was a right they acquired by their

1 There are two things in this passage which must excite surprise ; the first, that Cicero should regard those actions as immoral in the general ity of society which he justifies in the case of two individuals on tho sole ground of their intellectual pre-eminence. For this must be the sole ground of the distinction ; inasmuch as, if a moral superiority bo admitted as a justifying consideration in the case of Socrates, it can scarcely be denied to any other individual who might be led to the adop tion of a similar course. Tho second is, that the customs and institu tions of a country should be invested by Cicero with the powers of moral obligation ; nor, considering the general tenor of Cicero's ethics, is this the less surprising, from the fact that in modern times the same principle was carried by Ilobbes to a far greater extent. "According to him," says Sir James Mackintosh, " the perfect state of a community is where law prescribes the religion and morality of the people, and where the will of an absolute sovereign is the sole fountain of law." The insuf ficiency both of the law of the land, and of that conventional influence which in modern times has been designated the law of honor as a code of morality is admirably shown by Paley in the following passage : —

" The Law of Honor is a sj-stem of rules constructed by people of fashion, and calculated to facilitate their intercourse with one another ; and for no other purpose. Consequently, nothing is adverted to by the law of honor, but what tends to incommode this intercourse. Hence this law only prescribes and regulates the duties betwixt equals; omitting such as relate to tho Supreme Being, as well as those which we owe to our inferiors. For which reason, profaneness, neglect of public worship or private devotion, cruelty to servants, rigorous treatment of tenants or other dependents, want of charity to the poor, injuries done to trades men by insolvency or delay of payment, with numberless examples of the same kind, are accounted no breaches of honor ; because a man is not a less agreeable companion for these vices, nor the worse to deal with in thoso concerns which are usually transacted between one gentle man and another. Again, the law of honor, being constituted by men occupied iu the pursuit of pleasure, and for the mutual conveniency of such men, will be found, as might be expected from the character and design of the law-makers, to be, in most instances, favorable to the licentious indulgence of the natural passions. Thus, it allows of forni cation, adultery, drunkenness, prodigality, duelling, and of revenge in he extreme ; and lays no stress upon the virtues opposite to these.

" That part of mankind, who are beneath the law of honor, often make the Law of the Land their rules of life ; that is, they are satisfied with themselves, so long as they do or omit nothing, for the doing or omitting of which the law can punish them. Whereas every system of human laws, considered as a rule of life, labors under the two following de fects: — 1. Human laws omit many duties, as not objects of compulsion ;

great and superhuman endowments. But as to the whole system of the Cynics ; we are absolutely to reject it, because it is inconsistent with moral susceptibility without which nothing can be honest, nothing can be virtuous.

Now it is our duty to esteem and to honor, in the same manner as if they were dignified with titles or vested with command, those men whose lives have been conspicuous for great and glorious actions, who feel rightly toward the state and deserve well or have deserved well of their country. We are likewise to have a great regard for old age, to pay a deference to magistrates; to distinguish between (what we owe to) a fellow-citizen and a foreigner, and to consider whether that foreigner comes in a public or a private capacity. In short, not to dwell on particulars, we ought to regard, to cultivate, and to promote the good will and the social welfare of all mankind.

XLII. Now with regard to what arts and means of ac quiring wealth are to be regarded as worthy and what dis reputable, we have been taught as follows. In the first place, those sources of emolument are condemned that incur the public hatred ; such as those of tax-gatherers and usurers. We are likewise to account as ungenteel and mean the gains of all hired workmen, whose source of profit is not their art but their labor ; for their very wages are the consideration of their servitude. We are likewise to despise all who retail from merchants goods for prompt sale ; for they never can suc ceed unless they lie most abominably. Now nothing is more disgraceful than insincerity. All mechanical laborers are by their profession mean. For a workshop can contain nothing befitting a gentleman. Least of all are those trades such as pictj to God, bounty to the poor, forgiveness of injuries, educa tion of children, gratitude to benefactors. The law never speaks but to command, nor commands but where it can compel ; consequently those duties, which by their nature must be voluntary, are left out of the statute-book, as lying beyond the reach of its operation and authority. 2. Human laws permit, or, which is the same thing, suffer to go un punished, many crimes, because they are incapable of being defined by any previous description. Of which nature are luxury, prodigality, par tiality in voting at those elections in which the qualifications of the candidate ought to determine the success, caprice in the disposition of men's fortunes at their death, disrespect to parents, and a multitude of similar examples." — " Moral and Political Philosophy," book i. caps. 2 & 3.

CHAP. xun. CICERO'S OFFICES, ?g to be approved that serve the purposes of sensuality, such as (to speak after Terence) fishmongers, butchers, cooks, pastry-cooks, and fishermen ; to whom we shall add, if you please, perfumers, dancers, and the whole tribe of gamesters.1

But those professions that involve a higher degree of in telligence or a greater amount of utility, such as medicine, architecture, the teaching the liberal arts, are honorable in those to whose rank in life they are suited. As to merchandizing,, if on a small scale it is mean • but if it is extensive and rich, bring numerous commodities from all parts of the world, and giving bread to numbers without fraud, it is not so despicable. But if a merchant, satiated, or rather satisfied with his profits, as he sometimes used to leave the open sea and make the harbor, shall from the harbor step into an estate and lands ; such a man seems most justly deserving of praise. For of all gainful profes sions, nothing is better, nothing more pleasing, nothing^ more delightful, nothing better becomes a well-bred man' than agriculture. But as I have handled that subject at large in my Cato Major, you can draw from thence all that falls under this head.

XLIII. I have I think sufficiently explained in what manner the duties are derived from the constituent parts of virtue. Now it often may happen that an emulation and a contest may arise among things that are in themselves virtuous*, — of two virtuous actions wrhich is preferable. A division that Pauretius has ovelooked. For as all virtue is the result of four qualities, prudence, justice, magnanimity

* There is, perhaps, no passage in this work more short-sighted and ridiculous than the above, and none which more clearly indicates the practical fallaciousness of all systems of morals framed in ignorance of those views of human nature which are derived from Christianity alone. To stigmatize as morally base those occupations which are necessary to the comfort of society, is to maintain the very opposite of his own fun damental principle, by affirming that immorality and not morality is necessary to the happiness of mankind. Indeed, the attribution of any moral character to mere industrial pursuits, is an absurdity which Cicero would probably not have incurred had he lived but a few years later, and become acquainted as he might, without leaving Rome, with those fishermen and that tent-maker ''of whom the world was not worthy," and through them with that Being in whose sight, amid all the irregu larities of time, " the rich and the poor meet together."

and moderation; so in the choice of a duty, those qualities must necessarily corns in competition with one another.

I am therefore of opinion that the duties arising from the social relations are mo^e agreeable to nature than those that are merely notional. This may be confirmed from the fol lowing argument. Supposing that this kind of life should befall a wise man, that in an affluence of all things he might be able with great leisure to contemplate and attend to every object that is worthy his knowledge ; yet if his condition be so solitary as to have no company with mankind, he would prefer death to it. Of all virtues, the most leading is that wisdom which the Greeks call aoqpt«, for by that sagacity which they term cpgovrjau; we understand quite another thing, as it implies the knowledge of what things are to be de sired, and what to be avoided. But that wisdom which I have stated to be the chief, is the knowledge of things divine and huin'in, which comprehends the fellowship of gods and men, and their society within themselves. If that be, as it certainly is, the highest of all objects, it follows of course that the duty resulting from this fellowship is the highest of all duties. For the knowledge and contem plation of nature is in a manner lame and unfinished, if it is followed by no activity ; now activity is most perspic uous when it is exerted in protecting the rights of mankind.

It therefore has reference to the social interests of the human race, and is for that reason preferable to knowledge ; and this every virtuous man maintains and exhibits in prac tice. For who is so eager in pursuing and examining the nature of things, that if, while he is handling and con templating the noblest objects of knowledge, the peril and crisis of his country is made known to him, and that it is in his power to assist and relieve her, would not instantly aban don and fling from him all those studies, even though he thought he would be enabled to number the stars, or measure the dimensions of the world ? And he would do the same were the safety of a friend or a parent concerned or endan gered. From this consideration I infer, that the duties of justice are preferable to the studies and duties of knowledge, relating as they do to the interests of the human race, to which no anterior consideration ought to exist in the mind of man.

XLIV. But some have employed their whole lives in the

CHAP. XLIY. CICERO'S OFFICES. 75 pursuits of knowledge, and yet have not declined to contributo to the utility and advantage of men. For they Irivo even instructed nirmy how they ought to be better citizens nnd more useful to their country. Thus Lysis, the Pythagorean edu cated Epaminondas of Thebes, as did Plato Dion of Syracuse, and so of many others ; anl as to whatever services I have per formed, if I have performed any to the state, I came to it aJter being furnished and adorned with knowledge by teachers and learning.

Nor do those philosophers only instruct and educate those who are desirous of learning while alive and present among us ; but they continue to do the same after death, by the monu ments of their learning ; for they neglect no point that relates to the constitution, the manne:s and the morals of their cointry ; so that it appears as if they had dedicated all their leisure to our advantage. Thus while they ave themselves devoted to the studies of learning and wisdom, they make their under standing and their skill chiefly available to the service of man kind. It is therefore more serviceable to the public for a man to discourse copiously, provided it is to the purpose, than for a man to think ever so accurately without the power of expres sion ; the reason is, because thought terminates in itself alone, but discourse atfects those with whom we are connected in a community.

Now as the swarms of bees do not assemble in order to form the honey-comb, but form the honey-comb because they are by nature gregarious ; so, and in a far greater degree, men being associated by nature, manifest their skill in thinking and acting. Therefore, unless knowledge is connected with that virtue which consists in doing service to mankind, that is, in improving human society, it would seem to be but solitary and barren.

In like manner greatness of soul, when utterly disunited from the company and society of men, becomes a kind of un couth ferocity. Hence it follows that the company and the community of men are preferable to mere speculative knowledge.

Neither is that maxim true which is affirmed by some, that human communities and societies were instituted from the necessity of our condition, because we can not without the help of others supply what our nature requires ; and that if we could be furnishedj as by a kind of magic wand, with everything that relates to food and raiment, that then every man of excel ling genius, laying aside all other occupations, would apply him self to knowledge and learning. The fact is not so ; for he would fly from solitude and look out for a companion in his pur suits ; and would desire sometimes to teach and sometimes to learn, sometimes to listen and sometimes to speak. Every duty therefore that operates for the good of human community and society, is preferable to that duty which is limited to speculation and knowledge.

XLV. Here perhaps it should be inquired, whether the duties of that society which is most suitable to nature are preferable to moderation and decency ? By no means. For some things are partly so disgraceful, and partly so criminal in their nature, that a wise man would not commit them, even to save his country. Posidonius has collected very many such ; but they are so obscene and so shocking that it would be scandalous even to name them. A wise man would not un dertake such things, even to serve his country, nor would his countiy undertake them to serve herself. But it fortunately happens, that there never can be a conjuncture, when the public interest shall require from a wise man the performance of such actions.

Hence it follows, that in the choice of our duties we are to prefer that kind of duty that contributes to the good of society. For well-directed action is always the result of knowledge and prudence. And therefore it is of more con sequence to act properly, than to deliberate justly. Thus much then may suffice on this subject ; for this topic has now been so fully laid open, that it is easy for every man in the study of his duties, to see which is preferable. Now in society there are degrees of duties by which every man may understand what belongs to himself. The first is owing to the immortal gods, the second to our country, the third to our parents, and lastly to others through different gradations.

From these arguments thus briefly stated we perceive that men are sometimes not only in doubt, whether a thing is vir tuous or disgraceful ; but likewise when two virtuous things are proposed, which is more so. This head, as I said before, was omitted by Panrctius. Let us now proceed to what remains of our subject.

CHAP. L CICERO'S OFFICES, 77

BOOK II.

MARCUS, MY SON,

I THINK I have in the former Book sufficiently explained in what manner our duties are derived from morality, and every kind of virtue. It now remains that I treat of those kinds of duties that relate to the improvement of life, and to the acquirement of those means which men employ for the attainment of wealth and interest. In this inquiry, as I have already observed, I will treat of what is useful, and what is not so. Of several utilities, I shall speak of that which is more useful, or most so. Of all this I shall treat, after pre mising a few words concerning my own plan of life and choice of pursuits.

Although my works have prompted a great many to the exercise not only of reading but of writing, yet I sometimes am apprehensive that the name of philosophy is offensive to some worthy men, and that they are surprised at my having employed so much of my pains and time in that study. For my part, as long as the state was under the management of those into whose hands she had committed herself, I applied to it all my attention and thought. But when the government was engrossed by one person, when there was an end of all public deliberation and authority ; when I in short had lost those excellent patriots who were my associates in the protection of my country, I neither abandoned myself to that anguish of spirit which had I given way to it, must have consumed me, nor did I indulge those pleasures that are disgraceful to a man of learning.

Would that the constitution had remained in its original state ; and that it had not fallen into the hands of men whose aim was not to alter but to destroy it ! For then I would first, as I was wont to do when our government existed, have employed my labors in action rather than in writing ; and in the next place, in my wi itings I should have recorded my own pleadings as I had frequent ly done, and not such subjects as the present. , But when the constitution, to which all my care, thoughts, and labor used to be devoted, ceased to exist, then those public and senatorial studies were silenced.

But as my mind could not be inactive, and as my early life had been employed in these studies, I thought that they might most honorably be laid aside by betaking myself anew <"O philosophy, having, when young, spent a great deal of my time in its study, with a view to improvement. When I afterward began to court public offices and devoted myself entirely to the service of my country, I had so much room for philosophy as the time that remained over from the business of my friends and the public. But I spent it all in reading, having no leisure for writing.

II. In the midst of the greatest calamities, therefore, I seem to have realized the advantage that I have reduced into writing, matters in which my countrymen were not sufficiently instructed, and which were most worthy their attention. For in the name of the gods, what is more desirable, what is more excellent, than wisdom ? What is better for man ? what more worthy of him ? They therefore who court her are termed philosophers ; for philosophy, if it is to be interpreted, implies nothing but the love of wisdom.

Now the ancient philosophers defined wisdom to be the knowledge of things divine and human, and of the causes by which these things are regulated ; a study that if any man despises, I now not what he can think deserving of es teem.

For if we seek the entertainment of the mind, or a respite from cares, which is comparable to those pursuits that are always searching out somewhat that relates to and secures the welfare and happiness of life ? Or if we regard the principles of self-consistency and virtue, either this is the art, or there is absolutely no art by which we can attain them. And to say that there is no art for the attainment of the highest objects, when \ve see that none of the most inconsiderable are without it, is the language of men who speak without consideration, and who mistake in the most important matters. Now if there is any

CHAP. in. CICERO'S OFFICES. 79 school of virtue, where can it be found, if you abandon this method of study ? But it is usual to treat these subjects more particularly when we exhort to philosophy, which I have done in another book. At this time iny intention was only to explain the reasons why, being divested of all offices of state, I chose to apply myself to this study preferable to all others.

Now an objection is brought against me, and indeed by some men of learning and knowledge, who inquire whether I act con- / sistently with myself, when, though I affirm that nothing can be \ certainly known, I treat upon different subjects, and when, as ] now, I am investigating the principles of moral duty. I could wish such persons were thoroughly acquainted with my way of thinking. I am not one of those whose reason is always wander ing in the midst of uncertainty and never has any thing to pur sue. For if we abolish all the rules, not only olf reasoning but of living, Avhat must become of reason, nay of life itself? For my own part, while others mention some things to be certain, and others uncertain, I say, on the other side, that some things/ are probable, and others not so.

What, therefore, hinders me from following whatever appears to me to be most probable, and from rejecting what is otherwise ; and, while I avoid the arrogance of dogmatizing, from escaping that recklessness which is most inconsistent with wisdom ? ISTo\v all subjects are disputed by our sect, because this very probability can not appear, unless there be a com parison of the arguments on both sides. But, if I mistake not, I have with sufficient accuracy explained these points in my Academics. As to you, my dear Cicero, though you are now employe! in the study of the oldest and noblest philo sophy under Cratippus, who greatly resembles those who have propounded those noble principles, yet I was unwilling that these my sentiments, which are so corresponding with your sys tem, should be known to you. But to proceed in what I propose.

III. Having laid down the five principles upon which we pursue our duty, two of which relate to propriety and virtue, two to the enjoyments of life, such as wealth, interest, and power, the fifrh to the forming of a right judgment in any case, if there should appear to be any clashing between the principles I have mentioned, the part assigned to virtue is concluded, and with that I desire you should be thoroughly acquainted. Now the subject I am now to treat of is neither more nor less than what we call expediency ; in which matter custom has so declined and gradually deviated from the right path, that, separating virtue from expediency, it has determined that some things may be virtuous that are not expedient, and some expedient which are not virtuous ; than which doctrine nothing more pernicious can be introduced into human life.

It is indeed with strictness and honesty that philosophers, and those of the highest reputation, distinguish in idea those three principles which really are blended together. For they give it as their opinion that whatever is just is expedient; and in like manner whatever is virtuous is just ; from whence it follows that whatever is virtuous is also expedient. Those who do not perceive this distinction often admire crafty and cunning men, and mistake knavery for wisdom. The error of such ought to be eradicated ; and every notion ought to be re duced to this hope, that men may attain the ends tiiey propose, by virtuous designs and just actions, and not by dishonesty and wickedness.

The things then that pertain to the preservation of human life are partly inanimate, such as gold, silver, the fruits of the earth, and the like ; and partly animal, which have their peculiar instincts and affections. Now of these some are void of, and some are endowed with, reason. The animals void of reason are horses, oxen, with other brute creatures, and bees, who by their labors contribute somewhat to the service and condition of mankind. As to the animals endowed with reason, they are of two kinds, one the gods, the other men. Piety and sanctity will render the gods propitious; and next to the gods mankind are most useful to men. (The same division holds as to things that are hurtful and prejudicial. But as we are not to suppose the goJs to be injurious to mankind, excluding them, man appears to be most hurtful to man). For even the very inanimate things I have mentioned, are generally procured through man's labor ; nor should we have had them but by his art and industry, nor can we apply them but by his management. For there could neither be the preservation of health, navi gation, nor the gathering and preserving the corn and other fruits, without the industry of mankind. And certainly

CHAP. v. CICERO'S OFFICES. 81 there could have been no exportation of things in which we abound, and importation of those which we want, had not mankind applied themselves to those employments. In like manner, neither could stones be hewn for our use, nor iron, nor brass, nor gold, nor silver, be dug from the earth, but by the toil and ait cf man.

IV. As to buildings, by which either the violence of the cold is repelled, or the inconveniences of the heat mitigated, how could they have originally been given to the human race, or afterward repaired when ruined by tempests, earth quakes, or time, had not community of life taught us to seek the aid of man against such influences ? Moreover, from whence but from the labor of man could we have had aqueducts, the cuts of rivers, the irrigation of the land, dams opposed to. streams, and artificial harbors ? From those and a great many other instances, it is plain that we could by no manner of means have, without the hand and industry of man, reaped the benefits and advantages arising from such things as are inanimate. In short, what advan tage and convenience could have been realized from the brute creation, had not men assisted ? Men, undoubted ly, were the first who discovered what useful result we might realize from every animal ; nor could we even at this time either feed, tame, preserve, or derive from them advantages suited to the occasion, without the help of man. And it is by the same that such as are hurtful are destroyed, and such as may be useful are taken. Why should I enume rate the variety of arts without which life could by no means be sustained ? For did not so many arts minister to us, what could succor the sick, or constitute the pleasure of the healthy, or supply food and clothing ?

Polished by those arts, the life of man is so different from the mode of life and habits of brutes. Cities, too, neither could have been built nor peopled but by the associa tion of men : hence were established laws and customs, the equitable definition of rights, and the regulated order of life. Then followed gentleness of disposition and love of morality ; and the result was that life was more protected, and that by giving and receiving, and by the exchange of resources and articles of wealth, we wanted for nothing.

V. We are more prolix than is necessary on this head.

For to whom is not that self-evident for which Panastius employs a great many words, that no man, whether he be a commander of an army, or a leader in the state, has ever been able to perform g%reat and salutary achievements without the zealous co-operation of men ? As instances of this, he mentions Themistocles, Pericles, Cyrns, Alexander, and Agesilaus, who, he says, without the aid of men never could have achieved such great exploits. Thus in a matter that is undoubted he brings evidences that are unnecessary. But as the assem blage or agreement. of men among themselves is productive of the greatest benefits, so is there no plague so direful that it may not arise to man from man. We have a treatise of Dicaearchus,1 an eminent and eloquent Peripatetic, con cerning the destruction of mankind; and after collecting together all the different causes, such as those of inundations, pestilence, devastation, and those sudden attacks of swarms of creatures, by which he tells us some tribes of men have been destroyed ; he then calculates how many more men have been destroyed by men, that is by wars and seditions, than by every other species of calamity.

As this point therefore admits of no doubt, that man can do the greatest good and the greatest injury to man, I lay it down as the peculiar property of virtue, that it recon ciles the affections of mankind, and employs them for her own purposes. So that all the application and management of inanimate things, and of brutes for the use of mankind, is effected by the industrial arts. But the quick and ready zeal of mankind for advancing and enlarging our conditions, is excited through the wisdom and virtue of the best of mankind.

For virtue in general consists of three properties. First, in discerning in every subject what is true and genuine ; what is consistent in every one ; what will be the con sequence of such or such a thing ; how one thing arises from another, and what is the cause of each. The next property of virtue is to calm those violent disorders of the mind which the Greek call -n &0rn and to render obedient to reason those appetites which they call dgitni. The third property is to treat with moderation and prudence those with

1 Dicaearchus, born in Sicily, and a disciple of Aristotle.

CHAP. TL CICERO'S OFFICES. 83 whom we are joined in society, that by their means we may have the complete and full enjoyment of all that nature stands in need of; and likewise by them repel every thing adverse that may befall us, and avenge ourselves of these who have endeavored to injure us, by inflicting on them as much punishment as equity and humanity permit

VI. I shall soon treat of the means to acquire this art of winning and retaining the affections of mankind, but first a few things must be premised. Who is insensible what great influence fortune has in both ways, either upon our prosperity or adversity ? r When we sail with her favoring breeze, we are carried to the most desirable landing-places : when she opposes us, we are reduced to distress. Some, however, of

1 '• All can not be happy at once ; for because the glory of one state depends upon the ruin of another, there is a revolution and vicissitude of their greatness, which must obey the spring of that wheel not proved by intelligences, but by the hand of God, whereby all estates rise to their zenith and vertical points, according to their predestinated periods,, For the lives not only of men but of commonweals, and the whole world, run not upon an helix that still enlargeth, but on a circle, where arising to their meridian, they decline in obscurity, and fall under the horizon again

" These must not, therefore, be named the effects of fortune, but in a relative way, and as we term the works of nature. It was the ignorance of man's reason that begat this very name, and by a careless term mis called the providence of God; for there is no liberty for causes to operate in a loose and straggling way, nor any effect whatsoever but hath its warrant from some universal or superior cause. 'Tis not a ridiculous devotion to say a prayer before a game at tables ; for even in sortileges and matters of greatest uncertainty, there is a settled and proordered course of effects. It is wo that are blind, not fortune ; because our eye is too dim to discover the mystery of her effects, wo foolishly paint her blind, and hoodwink the providence of the Almighty, I can not justify that contemptible proverb, that fools only are fortunate ; or that insolent paradox, that a wise man is out of the reach of fortune j much less those opprobrious epithets of poets, whore, bawd, strumpet. 'Tis, I confess, The common fate of men of singular gifts of mind to be destitute of those of fortune ; which doth not any way deject the spirit of wiser judgments, who thoroughly understand the justice of this pro ceeding, and being enriched with higher donatives, cast a more careless eye on these vulgar parts of felicity. . It is a most unjust ambition to dosire to engross the mercies of the Almighty, nor to be content with the goods of mind without a possession of those cf body or fortune ; and is an error worse than heresy to adore these complemental and circum stantial pieces of felicity, and undervalue those perfections and essential points of happiness wherein we resemble our Maker." — Sir Thomas Browne's " Religio Medici," cap. 17, 18.

the accidents of fortune herself are more unfrequent ; for instance, in the first place storms, tempests, shipwrecks, ruins, or burnings, which spring from inanimate things; in the next place, causes blows, bites, or attacks of biutes. Those accidents I say happen more seldom.

But of the destruction of armies, we have just row seen three different instances,1 and often we see more ; the de struction of generals, as was lately the case of a great and an eminent personage ; 2 together with unpopularity, whence frequently arises the expulsion, the fall, or the flight of the worthiest citizens ; and on the other hand, prosperous events, honors, commands, and victories ; though all those arc influenced by chance, yet they could not be brought about on either side without the concurring assistance and inclinations of mankind. This being premised, I am now to point out the manner in which we may invite and direct the incli nations of mankind, so as to serve our interests ; and should what I say on this head appear too long, let it be compared with the importance of the subject, and then, perhaps, it may even seem too short.

Whatever, therefore, people perform for any man, either to raise or to dignify him, is done either through kindness, when they have a motive of affection for him ; or to do him honor in admiration of his virtue, and when they think him worthy of the most exalted fortune ; or when they place confidence in him, and think that they are doing the best for their own interests; or when they are afraid of his power; or when they hope somewhat from him ; as when princes, or those who court the people, propose certain largesses ; or, lastly, when they are engaged by money and bribery ; a motive that of all other is the vilest and most sordid, both with regard to those who are influenced by it, and those who are compelled to resort to it.

For it is a bad state of things, when that is attempted by money which ought to be effected by virtue ; but as this re source is sometimes necessary, I will show in what manner it is to be employed, after I have treated of some things that are more connected with virtue. Now, mankind submit to the command and power of another for several reasons. For they

1 Meaning the defeat of Pompey at Pharsalia, of his sons at Munda in Spain, and of Scipio in Africa j all by Julius Caesar. a Pompey the Great.

CHAP. TIL CICERO'S OFFICES. 85 are induced by benevolence or by the greatness of his bene fits ; or by his transcendent worth, or by the hopes that their submission will turn to their own account, or from the fear of their being forced to submit, or from the hopes of reward, or the power of promises, or, lastly (which is often the case in our government), they arc hired by a bribe.

VII. Now, of all things there is none more adapted for supporting and retaining our influence than to be loved, nor more prejudicial than to be feared. Ennius says very truly, " People hate the man they fear, and to each the destruction of him whom he hates is expedient." It has been lately shown,1 if it was not well known before, that no power can resist the hatred of the many. Nor indeed is the destruction of that tyrant, who by arms forced his country to endure him, and whom it obeys still more after his death, the only proof how mighty to destroy is the hatred of mankind, but the similar deaths of other tyrants; few of whom have escaped a similar fate. For fear is but a bad guardian to permanency, whereas affec'ion is faithful even to perpetuity.

But the truth is, cruelty must be employed by those who keep others in subjection by force ; as by a master to his slaves, if they can not otherwise be managed. But of all mad men, they are the maddest who in a free state so conduct them selves as to be feared. However, under the power of a private man the laws may be depressed and the spirit of liberty in timidated, yet they occasionally emerge, either by the silent determinations of the people, or by their secret suffrages with relation to posts of honor.* For the inflictions of liberty, when it has been suspended, are more severe than if it had been retaine I. We ought therefore to follow this most ob vious principle, that dread should be removed and affection reconciled, which has the greatest influence not only on our security, but also on our interest and power ; and thus we shall most easily attain to the object of our wishes, both in private and political affairs. For it is a necessary consequence, that men fear those very persons by whom they wish to be feared.

For what judgment can we form of the elder Dionysius? *,

1 Cicero here alludes to the assassination of Caesar in the senate.

2 This elder Dionysius was tyrant of Syracuse about the year of Rome 447. His son and successor, of the same name, was expelled by Dione, the disciple of Plato.

With what pangs of dread was ho tortured, when, being fearful even of his barber's razor, he singed his beard with burning coals ? In what a state of mind may it not be sup posed Alexander the Pherean to have lived? Who (as we read), though he loved his wife Thebe excessively, yet when ever he carne into her bed-chamber from the banquet, ordered a barbarian, nay, one who we are told was scarred with the Thracian brands, to go before him with a drawn sword ; and sent certain of his attendants to search the chests of the ladies, and discover whether they had daggers concealed among their clothes. Miserable man ! to think a barbarous and branded slave could be more faithful to him than his wife ! Yet was he not deceived, for he was murdered by her on the suspicion of an illicit connection ; nor, indeed, can any power be so great as that, under the pressure of fear, it can be lasting.

Phalaris is another instance, whose cruelty was notorious above all other tyrants ; who did not, like the Alexander I have just mentioned, perish by secret treachery, nor by the hands of a few conspirators, like our own late tyrant, but was attacked by the collective body of the Agrigentines. Nay, did not the Macedonians abandon Demetrius, and with one consent betake themselves to Pyrrhus ? And did not the allies of the Lacedaemonians abandon them almost univers ally when they governed tyrannically, and show themselves unconcerned spectators of the disaster at Leuctra ?

VIII. Upon such a subject I more willingly record foreign than domestic examples ; as long, however, as the empire of the Roman people was supported by beneficence, and not in justice, their wars were undertaken either to defend their allies or to protect their empire, the issues of their wars were either merciful or unavoidable ; and the senate was the harbor and the refuge of kings, people, and nations.

Moreover, our magistrates and generals sought to derive their highest glory from this single fact, that they had upon the principles of equity and honor defended their provinces and their allies. This therefore might more justly be desig nated the patronage than the empire of the world ; for some time we have been gradually declining from this practice and these principles; but after the victory of Sylla, wo entirely lost them : for when such cruelties were exer-

;HAP. YIII. CICERO'S OFFICES. . 87 cised upon our fellow-citizens, we ceased to think any thing unjust toward our allies. In this case, therefore, a disgrace ful conquest crowned a glorious cause ;* for he had the pre sumption to declare, when the goods of worthy men, of men of fortune, and, to say the least, of citizens, were selling at public auction, that he was disposing of his own booty. He was followed by a man who, with an impious cause and a still more detestable victory, did not indeed sell the effects of private citizens, but involved in one state of calamity whole provinces and countries. Thus foreign nations being ha rassed and ruined, we saw Marseilles,2 the type of cur perished constitution, carried in triumph, without whose aid our generals who returned from Transalpine wars had never triumphed. Were not this the most flagiant indignity the sun ever beheld, I might recount a great many other atrocities against our allies. Deservedly, therefore, were we punished ; for had we not suffered the crimes of many to pass unpunished never could so much licentiousness have been concentrated in one, the inheritance of whose private estate descended in deed to but a few, but that of his ambition devolved upon many profligates.

Nor, indeed, will there ever be wanting a source and motive for civil war, while men of abandoned principles call to mind that bloody sale, and hope for it again. For when the spear3 under which it was made was set up for his kinsman the dic tator, by Publius Sylla, the same Sylla, thirty-six years after, was present at a still more detestable sale ; while another who in that dictatorship was only a clerk, in the latter one was city-quaestor. From all which we ought to learn, that while such rewards are presented, there never can be an end of our civil wars. Thus the walls of our city alone are standing, and even these awaiting the crimes that must destroy them ; but

1 Sylla's pretense for taking up arms was to defend the nobility against the encroachments of the commons, headed by Marius, whose party Caesar revived. — Guthrie.

2 This was a favorite state with the Roman republicans ; but having too inconsiderately shut their gates against and provoked Caesar, he treated it as is here described. — Guthrie.

3 Cicero here alludes to the sales of the estates of the Roman citizens made by Sylla; and which always were, among the Romans, carried on under a spear stuck into the ground. The like sales were afterward mado by some of Caesar's party. — Guthrie.

already we have utterly lost our constitution ; and to return to my subject, we have incurred all thoso miseries, because we chose rather to be feared than to endear ouselves and be beloved. It this was the case with the people of Romo when exercising their dominion unjustly, what consequence must private persons expect? Now, as it is plain that the force of kindness is so strong, and that of fear so weak, it remains for me to discant upon the means by which we mav most readily attain to that endearment which we desire, consistently with fidelity and honor.

But of this we do not all stand in the same need ; for it depends on the different purpose of life which each individual pursues, whether it be necessary for him to be beloved by the many, or whether the affections of the few be sufficient. Ono thing, however, may be considered as certain ; that it is chiefly and indispensably necessary, that we should possess the faith ful affections of those friends who love our persons and admire our qualities ; for this is the oaly particular in which men of the highest and middle stations of life agree, and is attainable by both in much the same manner. All, perhaps, are not equally desirous of honors and of the good-will of their fellowcitizens ; but the man who is possessed of them is greatly as sisted by them in acquiring other advantages as well as those of friendship.

IX. But I have in another book, which is entitled Lailius, treated of friendship. I am now to speak of fame, though I have already published two books upon that subject:1 let me, however, touch upon it, as it greatly conduces to the right management of the more important affairs. The highest and the most perfect popularity lies in three requisites ; first, when the public loves us ; secondly, when it regards us as trustworthy ; thirdly, when, with a certain degree of admi ration, it judges us to be worthy of preferment. Now, if I am to speak plainly and briefly, almost the same means by which those advantages are acquired from private persons procure them from the public. But there is another passage by which we may, as it were, glide into the affections of the many.

And first, let me touch upon those three maxims by which (as I have already said) good- will may be acquired. This is

1 This treatise is BOW lost.

CHAP. z. CICERO'S OFFICES. 89 chiefly acquired by benefits ; but next to that, good-will is won by a beneficent disposition, though we may be desti tute of means. Thirdly, the affections of the public are wonderfully excited by the mere reputation of generosity, beneficence, justice, honor, and of all those virtues that re gard politeness and affability of manners. For the very honestum and the graceful, as it is called, because it charms us by its own properties and touches the hearts of all by its qualities and its beauties, is chiefly resplendent through the medium of those virtues I have mentioned. We are there fore drawn, as it were, by nature herself to the love of those in whom we think those virtues reside. Now these are the strongest causes of affection, though some there may be which are less material.

The acquisition of public confidence or trust may be effected by two- considerations : by being supposed to be possessed of wisdom and of justice combined. For we have confidence in those who we think understand more than ourselves, and who we believe see further into the future, and, when business is actually in hand and matters come to trial, know how to pursue the wisest measures and act in the most expedient manner, as the exigency may require ; all mankind agreeing that this is real and useful wisdom. Such confidence, also, is placed in honest and honorable men, that is, in good men, as to exclude all suspicion of fraud or injury. We therefore think we act safely and properly in intrusting them with our persons, our fortunes, and our families.

But of the two virtues, honesty and wisdom, the former is the most powerful in winning the confidence of mankind. For honesty without wisdom has influence sufficient of itself; but wisdom without honesty is of no effect in inspiring confi dence ; because, when we have no opinion of a man's probity, the greater his craft and cunning the more hated and suspected he becomes ; honesty, therefore, joined to understanding, will have unbounded power in acquiring confidence ; honesty with out understanding can do a great deal ; but undersanding with out honesty can do nothing.

X. But lest any one should wonder why, as all philosophers are agreed in one maxim, which I myself have often main tained, that the man who possesses one of the virtues is in possession of them all, I here make a distinction which implies that a man maybe just but not at the SSIIK> tim? p:udent ; there is one kind of accuracy wlrL-li in <!ispui:;tion refines even upon truth, and another kind, when our whole discourse is accommodated to the. understanding of the public. Therefore There make use of the common terms of discourse, by calling some men brave, some good, otheis prudent. For when we treat of popular opinions, we should make use of popular terms, and Pansetius did the same. But to return to our subject.

Of the three requisites of perfect popularity, the third I mentioned was, " when the public with a certain degree of admiration judges us to be worthy of preferment." Now every thing that men observe to be great and above their comprehension they commonly admire ; and with regard to individuals, those in whom they can see any unexpected excellences. They therefore behold with reverence and extol with the greatest praise, those men in whom they think they can perceive some distinguished or singular vir tues ; whereas they despise those whom they think to possess no virtue, spirit, or manliness. Now, men do not despise all those of whom they think ill. For they by no means con temn rogues, slanderers, cheats, and those who are prepared to commit an injury, though they have a bad opinion of them. Therefore, as I have already said, those are despised who can neither serve themselves nor any one else, who have ho assiduity, no industry, and no concern about them ; but those men are the objects of admiration who are thought to surpass others in virtue, and to be free as well from every disgrace, as especially from those vices which others can not easily resist. For pleasures, those most charming mistressess, turn aside the greater number of minds from virtue, and most men, when the fires of affliction are applied to them, are unmeasurably terrified. Life and death, poverty and riches, make the deepest impressions upon all men. But as to those who, with a great and elevated mind, look clown on these in differently ; — men whom a lofty and noble object, when it is presented to them, draws and absorbs to itself; — in such cases, who does not admire the splendor and the beauty of virtue ?

XI. This sublimity of soul, therefore, produces the highest admiration ; and above all, justice, from which single virtue

CHAP. xi. CICERO'S OFFICES. 91 men are called good, appears to the multitude as something marvelous. And with good reason ; for no man can be just if he is afraid of death, pain, exile, or poverty, or prefers their contraries to justice. Men especially admire him who is incorruptible by money, and they consider every man in whom that quality is seen as ore purified by the fire. Justice, therefore, comprehends all the three means of acquir ing glory which have been laid down. The love of the pub lic, on account of its being a general benefit ; its confidence, for the same reason ; and its admiration, because it neglects and despises those objects to which most men are hurried on inflamed with avidity.

In my opinion, however, every scheme and purpose of life requires the assistance of men, especially that one should have some with whom he can familiary unbosom himself, which is hard for one to do, unless he maintain the appear ance of a good man. For this reason, were a man to live ever so lonely or ever so retired in the country, a reputation for justice would be indispensable to him, and so much the more, as those who do not possess it will be esteemed dis honest, and thus surrounded by no protection will be exposed to numerous injuries.

And with those likewise who buy or sell, who hire or let out, or who are engaged in the transaction of business, justice is necessary to the carrying of their pursuits, for its influ ence is so great, that without seme grains of it, even they who live by malpractices and villainy could not subsist. For among those who thieve in company, if any one of them cheat or rob another he is turned out of the gang ; and the captain of the band himself, unless he should distribute the spoils impartially, would either be murdered or deserted by his fellows. Indeed, robbers are even said to have their laws, which they obey and observe. By this impartiality in sharing the booty, Bardyllis, the Illyrian robber, mentioned by Theopompus, obtained great wealth ; and Viriathus, the Lusitanian, much greater ; to whom our armies and our gene rals yielded ; but whom the praetor Caius Latins, surnamed the wise, crushed and subdued, and so repressed his ferocity that he left an 'easy victory to his successors. If, therefore, the influence of justice is so forcible as to strengthen and enlarge the power of robbers, how great must we suppose it to be amid the laws and admiuist ration of a well-constituted government ?

XII. It appears to me, 1h.it not only among the Medes, as we are told by Herodotus, but by our own ancestors, men of the best principles were constituted kings, for the benefit of their just government. For when the helpless people were oppressed by those who had greater power, they betook themselves to some one man who was distinguished by his virtue, who not only protected the weakest from oppression, but by setting up an equitable system of government, united highest and lowest in equal rights. The cause of the institu tion of laws was the same as that of kings ; for equality of rights has ever been the object of desire ; nor otherwise can there be any riglxts at all.

When mankind could enjoy it under one just and good man, they were satisfied with that ; but when that was not the case, laws were invented, which perpetually spoke to all men with one and the same voice. It is therefore undeniable that the men whose reputation among the people was the highest for their justice, were commonly chosen to bear rule. But when the same were likewise regarded as wise men, there was nothing the people did not think themselves capable of attain ing under such authority. Justice, therefore, is by all manner of means to be reverenced and practiced ; both for its own sake (for otherwise it would not be justice), and for the enlargement of our own dignity and popularity. But as there is a system not only for the acquisition of money but also for its invest ment, so that it may supply ever-recurring expenses, not only the needful but the liberal ; so popularity must be both acquired and maintained by system.

It was finely said by Socrates that the shortest and most direct road to popularity, is " for a man to be the same that he wishes to be taken for." People are egregiously mistaken if they think they ever can attain to permanent popularity by hypocrisy, by mere outside appearances, and by disguising not only their language but their looks. True popularity takes deep root and spreads itself wide ; but the false falls away like blossoms ; for nothing that is false can be lasting. I could bring many instances of both kinds ; but for the sake of liberty, I will confine myself to one family. While there is a memorial of Roinau history remaining, the memory of

CHAP. xin. CICERO'S OFFICES. 93

Tiberius Gracchus, the son of Publius, will be held in honor ; but his sons even in life were not approved of by the good, and, being dead, they are ranked among those who were deservedly put to death.

XIII. Let the man therefore who aspires after true popularity, perform the duties of justice. What these are has been laid down in the former book. But although we may most easily seem to be just what we are (though in this of itself there is very great importance), yet some precepts require to be given as to how we ma)' be such men as we desire to be considered. For if any one from early youth has the elements of celebrity and reputation, either derived from his father (which I fancy, my dear Cicero has happened to you), or by some other cause or accident ; the eyes of all mankind are turned toward him, and they make it their business to inquire what he does and how he lives ; and, as if he were set up in the strongest point of light, no word or deed of his can be private.

Now those whose early life, through their mean and ob scure rank, is passed unnoticed by the public, when they come to be young men, ought to contemplate important pur poses, and pursue them by the most direct means, which they will do with a firmer resolution, because not only is no envy felt, but favor rather is shown toward that period of life. The chief recommendation then of a young man to fame is derived from military exploits.1 Of this we have many ex-

1 " Perhaps it will afford to some men new ideas, if we inquire what the real nature of the military virtues is. They receive more of applause than virtues of any other kind. How does this happen ? We must seek a solution in the seeming paradox that their pretensions to the charac ters of virtues are few and small. They receive much applause because they merit little. They could not subsist without it; and if men resolve to practice war, and consequently to require the conduct which gives success to war, they must decorate that conduct with glittering fictions, and extol the military virtues, though they be neither good nor great. Of every species of real excellence it is the general characteristic that it is not anxious for applause. The more elevated the virtue the less the desire, and the less is the public voice a motive to action. What should we say of that man's benevolence who would not relieve a neighbor in distress, unless the donation would be praised in a newspaper? What should we say of that man's piety, who prayed only when he was 'seen of men ?' But the military virtues live upon applause ; it is their vital clement and their food, their great pervading motive and reward. Are there, then, among the respective virtues such discordances of charamples among" our ancestors, for they were almost always waging wars. Your youth however has fallen upon the time of a war, in which one party incurred too much guilt f.n 1 the other too little success. But when in that wr.r Pompey gave you the command of a squadron, you gained the pia'se cf that great man and of his army by your horsemanship, your d :r',ing the javelin, and your tolerance of ail military labor. But this honor of yours ceased with the constitution of our country.

.j My discourse however has not been undertaken with reference

/ to you singly, but to the general suljcct. Let mo therefore proceed to what remainso

As in other matters the powers of the mind are far more im portant than those of the body, so the objects AVC pursue by intelligence and reason are more important than those we effect by bodily strength. The most early recommendation, therefore, is modesty, obedience to parents, and affection for relations. Young men are likewise most easily and best known, who at tach themselves to wise and illustrious men who benefit their country by their counsels. Their frequenting such company gives mankind a notion of their one day resembling those whom they choose for imitation.

The frequenting of the house of Publius Marcus commended the early life of Publius Rutilius to a reputation for integrity and knowledge of the law. Lucius Crassus indeed, when very young, was indebted to no extrinsic source, but by himself ac quired the highest honor from that noble and celebrated prosecution he undertook ; at an age wrhen even those who exercise themselves are highly applauded (ns we are told in the case of Demosthenes), Crassus, I say, at that age showed that he could already do that most successfully in the forum, which at that time he would have gained praise had he attempted at home.

XIV. But as there are two methods of speaking ; the one proper for conversation, the other for debate, there can be no doubt but the disputative style of speech is of the greatest efficacy with regard to fame ; for that is what we properly term eloquence. Yet it is difficult to describe how great acter, such total contrariety of nature and essence ? No, no. But how then do you account for the fact, that while all other great virtues are independent of public praise and stand aloof from it, the military virtues can scarcely exist without it ?" — Dymond's " Essay on Morals."

CHAP. xrr. CICERO'S OFFICES. 95 power, affability and politeness in conversation have to win the affections of mankind. The;e are extant letters from Philip, from Antipater, and from Antigonus, three of the wisest men we meet wLh in history, to their sons Alexander, Cassander, and Philip, recommending to them to draw the minds of the people to kindly sentiments by a geneious style of discourse, and to engage their soldiers by a winning nddress. But the speech which is pronounced in debate before a multitude often cariies away a whole assembly. For great is their admiration of an eloquent and sensible speaker, that when they hear him, they are convinced he has both greater abilities and more wis dom than the rest of mankind. But should this eloquence have in it dignity combined with modesty, nothing can be more admirable, especially should those properties meet in a young man.

Various are the causes that require the practice of elo quence ; and many young men in our state have attained distinction before the judges and in the senate ; but there is the greatest admiration for judicial harangues, the nature of which is twofold, for it consists of accusation and defense. Of those, though the latter is preferable in point of honor ; yet the other has often been approved. I have spoken a little before of Crassus ; Marcus Antonius when a youth did the same. An accusation also displayed the eloquence of Publius Sulpicius, when he brought to trial Caius Korbanus, a seditious and worthless citizen.

But in truth, we ought not to do this frequently nor ever, except for the sake of our country, as in the cases I have mentioned ; or for the purpose of revenge,1 as the two Lu-

1 The direct approbation and inculcation of revenge on the part of ancient moralists, constitutes the point at which the authorities on Christian ethics most widely diverge from them. Paley lays down the following principles on this subject: "It is highly probable, from the light of nature, that a passion, which seeks its gratification immediately and expressly in giving pain, is disagreeable to the benevolent will and counsels of the Creator. Other passions and pleasures may, and often do, produce pain to some one ; but then pain is not, as it is here, the object of the passion, and the direct cause of the pleasure This proba bility is converted into certainty, if we give credit to the authority which dictated the several passages of the Christian scriptures that condemn revenge, or, what is the same thing, which enjoins forgiveness The forgiveness of an enemy is not inconsistent with the proceedings against him as a public offender ; and that the discipline established in religious culli did ; or by way of patronage, as I did on behalf of the Sicilians, or as Julius did in the case of Albucius on behalf of the Sardians. The diligence of Lucius Fuiius was dis played in the impeachment of Manius Aquillius. For once therefore it may be done ; or at all events not often. But if a man should be under a necessity of doing it oftener, let him perform it as a duty to his country, for it is by no means blameworthy to carry on repeated prosecutions against her or civil societies, for the restraint or punishment of criminals, ought to be upholden. If the magistrate be rot tied down with these prohibitions from the execution of his office, neither is the prosecutor; for the office of the prosecutor is as necessary as that of the magistrate. Nor, by parity of reason, are private persons withholden from the correction of vice, when it ia in their power to exercise it, provided they be assured that it is the guilt which provokes them, and not the injury; and that their motives are pure from all mixture and every particle of that spirit which delights aud triumphs in the humiliation of an adversary." — Paley's Moral and Political Philosophy, book iii. ch. viii.

Sir Thomas Browne, in his " Christian Morals," has the following striking reflections on revenge : " Too many there be to whom a dead enemy smells well, and who find musk and amber in revenge. Theferity of such minds holds no rule in retaliations, requiring too often a head for a tooth, and the supreme revenge for trespasses which a night's rest should obliterate. But patient meekness takes injuries like pills, not chewing but swallowing them down, laconically suffering, and silently passing them over ; while angered pride makes a noise, like , Homerican Mars, at every scratch of offenses. Since women do most / delight in revenge, it may seem but feminine manhood to be vindictive. If thou must needs have thy revenge of thine enemy, with a soft tongue break his bones, heap coals of fire on his head, forgive him and enjoy it. To forgive our enemies is a charming way of revenge, and a short Caesarian conquest, overcoming without a blow; laying our enemies at our feet, under sorrow, shame, and repentance ; leaving our foes our friends, and solicitously inclined to grateful retaliations. Thus to return upon our adversaries is a healing way of revenge ; and to do good for evil a soft and melting ultion, a method taught from heaven to keep all smooth on earth. Common forcible wa}rs make not an end of evil, but leave hatred and malice behind them. An enemy thus reconciled is little to be trusted, as wanting the foundation of love and charity, and but for a time restrained by disadvantage or inability. If thou hast not mercy for others, yet be not cruel unto thyself. To ruminate upon evils, to make critical notes upon injuries, and be too acute in their apprehen sions, is to add unto our own tortures, to feather the arrows of our enemies, to lash ourselves with the scorpions of our foes, and to resolve to sleep no more. For injuries long dreamt on take away at last all rest, and he sleeps but like Regulus who busieth his head about them." — Christian Morals, chapter xii.

CHAP. nv. CICERO'S OFFICES 97 enemies. But still let moderation be observed. For it seems to be the part of a cruel man, or rather scarcely of a man at all, to endanger the lives of many. It is both dangerous to your person, and disgraceful to your character, so to act as to get the name of an accuser, as happened in the case of Marcus Brutus, a man sprung from a most noble family, and. son to the eminent adept in civil law.

Moreover, this precept of duty also must be carefully ob served, that you never arraign an innocent man on trial for his life, for this can by no means be done without heinous } guilt. For what can be so unnatural as to prostitute to the prosecution and the ruin of the good, that eloquence which nature has given us for the safety and preservation of man kind. AUhough, however, this is to be avoided, yet we are not to consider it a religious duty never to defend a guilty party, so that he be not abominable and impious. The people desire this, custom tolerates it, and humanity suffers it. The duty of a judge in all trials is to follow truth ; that of a pleader, sometimes to maintain the plausible though it may not be the truth,1 which I should not, especially as I am now

1 Two of the most eminent moralists of modern times have thus re corded their respective judgments on this point of casuistry. Archdeacon Paley says, "There are falsehoods which are not lies; that is, which are not criminal: as, where no one is deceived; which is the case in para bles, fables, novels, jests, tales to create mirth, ludicrous embellishments of a story, where the declared design of the speaker is not to inform, but to divert; compliments in the subscription of a letter, a servant's deny ing his master, a prisoner's pleading not guilty, an advocate asserting the justice, or his belief of the justice, of his client's cause. In such in stances, no confidence is destroyed, because none was reposed; no promise to speak the truth is violated, because none was given, or un derstood to be given." — Paley's Moral and Political Philosophy, book iii. chapter xv.

In refutation of this view, Dyruond suggests the following considera tions : — " This defense is not very credible, even if it were valid ; it de fends men from the imputation of falsehood, because their falsehoods are so habitual that no one gives them credit !

" But the defense is not valid. Of this the reader may satisfy himself by considering why, if no one ever believes what advocates say, they continue to speak. They would not, year after year, persist in uttering untruths in our courts, without attaining an object, and knowing that they would not attain it. If no one ever in fact believed them, they would cease to asseverate. They do not love falsehood for its own sake, and utter it gratuitously and for nothing. The custom itself, therefore, disproves the argument that is brought to defend it. Whenever that treating of philosophy, venture to write, were it not likewise the opinion of a man of the greatest weight among the Stoics, Panaetius. But it is by defenses that glory and favor also are acquired in the greatest degree ; and so much the greater, if at any time it happens that we come to the help of one who seems to be circumvented and oppressed by the influence of some powerful man, as I myself have done both in other cases fre quently, and when a youth in defense of Sextus Roscius Amerinus, against the influence of Lucius Sylla, then in power, which speech, as you know, is extant.

XV. But having explained the duties, of young men, which avail to the attainment of glory, we have next to speak about beneficence and liberality, the nature of which is twofold ; for a kindness is done to those who need it, by giving either our labor or our money. The latter is easier, defense becomes valid, whenever it is really true that ' no confidence is reposed' in advocates, they will cease to use falsehood, for it will have lost its motive. But the real practice is to mingle falsehood and truth together, and so to involve the one with the other that the jury can not easily separate them. The jury know that some of the pleader's state ments are true, and these they believe. Now he makes other statements with the same deliberate emphasis ; and how shall the jury know whether these are false or true ? How shall they discover the point at which they shall begin to ' repose no confidence ?' Knowing that a part is true, they can not always know that another part is not true. That it is the pleader's design to persuade them of the truth of all he affirms, is mani fest. Suppose an advocate, when he rose should say, ' Gentlemen, I am now going to speak the truth ;' and after narrating the facts of the case, should say, ' Gentlemen, I am now going to address you with fictions.' Why should not an advocate do this ? Because then no confidence would be reposed, which is the same thing as to say that he pursues his present plan because some confidence is reposed, and this decides the question. The decision should not be concealed — that the advocate who employs untruths in his pleadings, does really and most strictly lie.

" And even if no one ever did believe an advocate, his false declara* lions would still be lies, because he always ' professes to speak the truth.' This indeed is true upon the Archdeacon's own showing ; for he says, 1 Whoever seriously addresses his discourse to another, tacitly promises to speak the truth.' The case is very different from others which ho proposes as parallel — ' parables, fables, jests.' In these, the speaker docs not profess to state facts. But the pleader does profess to state facts. He intends and endeavors to mislead. His untruths, therefore, are lies to him, whether they are believed or not ; just as, in vulgar life, a man whose falsehoods are so notorious that no one gives him credit, is not the less a liar than if he were believed." — Dymond's Essay on the Prin ciples of Morals, Essay ii. chapter v.

CHAP. xv. CICERO'S OFFICES. 99 especially to a wealthy person; but tlie former is the more noble and splendid, and more worthy of a brave and illus trious man ; for although there exists in both a liberal incli nation to oblige, yet the one is a draft on our purse, the other on our virtue, and bounty which is given out of our income exhausts the very source of the munificence. Thus benignity is done away by benignity, and the greater the number you have exercised it upon, so much the less able are you to exercise it upon many. But they who will be beneficent and liberal of their labor, that is, of their virtue and in dustry, in the first place, will have by how much greater the number of persons they shall have serve..!, so much the. more coadjutors in their beneficence. And in the next place, by the habit of beneficence they will be the better prepared, and, as it were, better exercised to de serve well of many. Philip, in a certain letter, admirably reproves his son Alexander, because he sought to gain the goodwill of the Macedonians by largesses — " Pest !" he says, "what consideration led you into the hope that you could imagine that they whom you have corrupted with money would be faithful to you ? Are you aiming at this, that the Macedonians should expect you will be, not their king, but their agent and purveyor." He says well, " agent and purveyor," because that is undignified in a king ; and still better, because he designates a largess a corrupt bribe ; for he who receives becomes the worse for it, and more ready always to expect the same. He enjoined this on his son, but we may consider it a precept for all men. Wherefore, this indeed is not doubtful, that such beneficence as consists of labor and industry is both the more honorable, and ex tends more widely, and can serve a greater number. Some times, however, we must make presents — nor is this sort of beneficence to be altogether repudiated; and oftentimes we ought to communicate from our fortune to suitable persons, who are in need, but carefully and moderately. For many persons have squandered their patrimonies by unadvised gene rosity. Now, what is more absurd than to bring it to pass that you can no longer do that which you would willingly do ? And moreover, rapine follows profuseness. For when, by giving, they begin to be in want, they are forced to lay their hands upon other men's property. Thus, when, for the sake of procuring good-will, they mean to be beneficent, they ac quire not so much the affection of those to whom they give as the hatred of those from whom they take. Wherefore, our purse should neither be so closed up that our generosity can not open it, nor so unfastened that it lies open to all — a bound should be set, and it should bear reference to our means. We ought altogether to remember that saying which, from being very often used by our countrymen, has come into the usage of a proverb, that " bounty has no bottom." For what bounds can there be, when both they who have been accus tomed to receive, and other persons, are desiring the same thing? XVI. There are two kinds of men who give largely, of whom one kind is prodigal, the other liberal. The prodigal are those who with entertainments, and distributions of meat to the populace, and gladiatorial exhibitions, and the appa ratus of the stage and the chase, lavish their money upon those things of which they will leave behind either a tran sient memory, or none all. But the liberal are they who, with their fortunes, either redeem those captured by robbers, or take up the debts of their friends, or aid in the establish ing of their daughters, or assist them either in seeking or increasing their fortunes. Therefore, I am astonished what could come into the mind of Theophrastus, in that book which he wrote about riches, in which he has said many things well, but this most absurdly. For he is lavish in praise of magnificence, and of the furnishing of popular exhibitions, and he considers the means of supplying such expenses to be the grand advantage of wealth. Now, to me that enjoyment of liberality of which I have given a few examples, seems much greater and surer. With how much more weight and truth does Aristotle censure such of us as feel no astonishment at that profusion of wealth which is wasted in courting the people ; "if," says he, "they who are besieged by an enemy should be compelled to purchase a pint of water at a mina,1 this, on first hearing, would seem to us incredible, and all would be astonished, but when we reflect upon it, we excuse it for its necessity ; while in these pieces of immense extravagance and unbounded expense, we do not feel greatly astonished." And he censures us, especially, " because we are neither relieving necessity, nor is our dignity increased, and

1 About three pounds sterling.

CHAP. xvii. CICERO'S OFFICES. 101 the very delight or" the multitude is for a brief and little space, and o..iy felt by the most giddy, even in whom, how ever, at the sam • time with the satiety, the nn moiy of the pleasure likewise dies." He sums up well, too, th;d " ihese things are agreeable to boys and silly women, ; nd slaves, and freem -n very like slaves ; but that by a ruan ot sense, find one who ponders with sound judgment on such exhibi tions, they can in no way be approved." Though I know that in our state it is established by ancient usage, end even now in the good times, that the splendor of aedilesbips1 is expected even from the. most excellent men. Therefore, both Publius Crassus, wealthy as well in name as in fortune, dis charged the office of asdile with the most magnificent enter tainment ; and, a little while after, Lucius Crassus, with Quiii tus Mucius, the most moderate of all men, served a most magnificent BBdileship ; and next, Cains Claudius, son of Appius ; many subsequently — the Luculli, Hortensius, Silanus ; but Publius Lentulus, in my consulship, surpassed all his predecessors. Scaurus imitated him ; but the shows of my friend Pompey, in his second consulship, were the most mag nificent of all — concerning all of whom, you see what is my opinion.

XVII. Nevertheless, the suspicion of avarice should be avoided. The omitting of the aidileship caused the rejection of Mamercus, a very wealthy man, from the consulship., Wherefore it must be done if it be required by the people,and good men, if not desiring, at least approve it, but in proportion to our means, as I myself did it ; and again, if some object of greater magnitude and utility is acquired by popular largess, as lately the dinners in the streets, under pretext of a vow of a tenth,2 brought great honor to Orestes. Nor was ever any fault found with Marcus Seius, because in the scarcity he gave corn to the people at an as the bushel. For he delivered himself from a great and in veterate dislike by an expense neither disgraceful, since he was sedile at the time, nor excessive. But it lately brought the greatest honor to our friend Milo, that with gladiators,

1 The JEdiles, among other duties, had the care of the public shows, to which they were expected to contribute largely out of their private fortunes.

a To one of the gods.

hired for the sake of the republic, which was held together by my safety, he repressed all the attempts and madness of Publius Clodius. The justification, therefore, of profuse bounty is that it is either necessary or useful. Moreover, in these very cases the rule of mediocrity is the best. Lucius Philippus, indeed, the son of Quintus, a man in the highest degree illustrious for his great genius, used to boast that without any expense he had attained all the highest honors that could be obtained. Cotta said the same, and Curio. I myself, too, might in some degree boast on this subject ; for considering the amplitude of the honors which I attained with all. the votes in my own1 year, too — a thing that happened to none of those whom I have just named — the expense of my a3dileship was certainly trifling.

These expenses also are more justifiable on walls, docks, ports, aqueducts, and all things which pertain to the service of the state, though what is given as it were into our hands is more agreeable at present, yet these things are more acceptable to posterity. Theaters, porticos, new temples, I censure with more reserve for Pompey's sake, but the most learned men disapprove of them, as also this very Pansetius, whom in these books I have closely followed, though not trans lated ; and Demetrius Phalereus, who censures Pericles, the greatest man of Greece, because he lavished so much money on that glorious vestibule ; 2 but all this subject I have carefully discussed in these books which I have written upon Govern ment. The whole plan, then, of such largesses is vicious in its nature, but necessitated by particular occasions, and even then ought to be accommodated to our means, and regulated by moderation.

XVIII. But in that second kind of munificence which proceeds from liberality, we ought in different cases to be affected in different manners. The case is different of him who is oppressed with misfortune, and of him who seeks to butter his fortune without being in any adversity. Our

1 To be Quaestor, ^Edile, Praetor, and Consul, the respective ages were 31, 38, 41, and 44 years. The man who was elected to an office at the earliest age at which he was entitled to offer himself a candidate for it was said to get it in his own year. Cicero got each of them in his own year.

3 Of the Acropolis.

CHAP. XYIIL CICEKO'S OFFICES. 103 benignity will require to be more prompt toward the distressed, unless perhaps they merit their distress ; yet from those who desire to be assisted, uot that they may be relieved from afflic tion, but that they may ascend to a higher degree, we ought by no means to be altogether restricted, but to apply judgment and discretion in selecting proper persons. For Ennius observes well —

" Benefactions ill bestowed, I deem malefactions."

But in that which is bestowed upon a worthy and grateful man there is profit, as well from himself as also from others ; for liberality, when free from rashness, is most agreeable, and many applaud it the more earnestly on this account, because the bounty of every very exalted man is the common refuge of all. We should do our endeavor, then, that we may serve as many as possible with those benefits, the recol lection of which may be handed down to their children and posterity, that it may not be in their power to be ungrateful ; for all men detest one forgetful of a benefit, and they consider that an injury is done even to themselves by discouraging liberality, and that he who does so is the common enemy of the poor. And besides, that benignity is useful to the state by which captives are redeemed from slavery, and the poor are enriched. That it was indeed the common custom that this should be done by our order,1 we see copiously described in the speech of Crassus. This kind of bounty, therefore, I prefer far before the munificent exhibition of show's. That . is the part of dignified and great men — this of flatterers o£4 the populace, tickling, as it were, with pleasures the levity of the multitude. It will, moreover, be expedient that a man, as he should be munificent in giving, so that he should not be harsh in exacting ; and in every contract, in selling, buying, hiring, letting, to be just and good-natured to the vicinage and surrounding occupiers ; conceding to many much that is his own right, but shunning disputes as far as he can conveniently, and I know not but even a little more than he can conveniently. For, to abate at times a little from our rights, is not only generous, but sometimes profitable also. But of our property, which it is truly disgraceful to allow to

1 The senatorial.

get dilapidated, care must be taken, but in such a way that the suspicion of shabbiness and avarice be avoided. For to be able to practice liberality, not stripping ourselves of our •patrimony, is indeed the greatest enjoyment of wealth. Hospitality also has been justly recommended by Theophrastus. For, as it appears to me, indeed, it is very decorous that the houses of illustrious men should be open for illustrious guests. And that also brings credit to the state, that foreigners in our city should not fail of ex periencing this species of liberality. It is, moreover, exceed- / ingly useful to those who wish to be very powerful in an honorable way, to get the command over wealth and interest among foreign nations through their guests. Theophrastus, indeed, writes that Cymon at Athens practiced hospitality even toward his brethren of the Lacian tribe ; for that he so directed and commanded his stewards, that all Ihir.gs should be supplied to any of them that should turn aside into his villa.

XIX. Now, those benefits which are bestowed out of our labor, not our money, are conferred as well upon the entire commonwealth, as upon individual citizens. For to give legal opinions, to assist with counsel, and to serve as many as we can with this kind of knowledge, tends very much to increase both our means and our interest. This, therefore, as well as many things about our ancestors, was noble, that the knowledge and interpretation of our most excellently constituted civil law was always in the highest repute; which, indeed, before this confusion of the present times, the nobles retained in their own possession. Now, like honors — like all the degrees of rank, so the splendor of this science is extinguished ; and this is the more unmeet on this account, because it has happened at the very time when he1 was in existence who far surpassed in this science all who went before, to whom also he was equal in dignity. This labor, then, is acceptable to many, and suited to bind men to us by benefits. But the talent of speaking being very closely connected with this art, is more dignified, more agree able, and capable of higher ornament. For what is more excellent than eloquence, in the admiration of the hearers, or

1 Servius Sulpicius Rufus

CHAP. xx. CICERO'S OFFICES. 105 in the expectation of those in need of its assistance, or in the gratitude of those who have been defended ? To this, then, tho first rank of civil dignity was given by our ancestors. Of a • eloquent man, then, and one willingly laboring, and, what is ac cording to the customs of our forefathers, defending the causes of mmy, both ungrudgingly and gratuitously, the benefks and p itronage are very extensive.

Tiie subject would admonish me that at this opportunity I shoul I likewise deplore the discontinuance, not to €all it tlio extinction, of eloquence, did I not apprehend L>st I should appea-1 to be making some complaint upon my own account. However, we see what orators are extinct, ia how few there is proaiise, in how much fewer ability, in how ma-'.y pvesumption. But though all, or even many, can not be skill ful in the la\sr, or eloquent, yet it is in a ma t's power, by his exertions, to be of service to many, by asking benefits for them, commending them to judges and m igistratcs, watch ing the interests of others, entreaiing in their behalf those very advocates who either are consulted or defend causes. They who act thus, gain a great deal of influence, and their industry diffuses itself most extensively. Furthermore, they need not be a Imonished of this (for it is obvious), that they take care to offend none while they are wishing to serve others. For oftentime they offend either those whom it is their duty or whom it is their interest not to offend. If unwittingly they do it, it is a fault of negligence ; if knowingly, of rashness. It is necessary, too, that you make an apology, in whatever way you can, to those whom you unwillingly offend — how that which you did was of necessity, and that you could not do otherwise ; and it will be necessary to make compensation to them for what injury you have inflicted by other efforts and good offices.

XX. But since, in rendering services to men, it is usuai to look either to their character or their fortune, it is easy, indeed, to say, and so people commonly say, that in bestowing benefits they only attend to a man's character, not to his fortune. It is a fine speech ; but pray is there any one who in rendering a service would not prefer the thanks of a rich and powerful man before the cause of a poor, though most worthy man 1 For in general our good-will is more inclined toward him from whom it appears that remuneration would be easier and quicker. But we ought to consider more at tentively what the nature of things is : for of course that poor man, if he be a good man, though he can not requite a kindness, can at least have a sense of it. Now it was well said, whoever said it, " that he who hath the loan of money, hath not repaid; and he who hath repaid, hath not the loan. But both he who hath requited kindness hath a sense of it, "and he who hath a sense of it1 hath requited." But they who consider themselves wealthy, honored, pros perous, do not wish even to be bound by a benefit. More over, they consider that they have conferred a favor when they themselves have received one, however great ; and they also suspect that something is either sought or expected from them : but they think it like death to them that they should need patronage, and be called clients. But, on the other hand, that poor man, because in whatever is done for him he thinks it is himself and not his fortune that is regarded, is anxious that he may be seen to be grateful, not only by him who has merited it from him, but also by those from whom he expects the like (for he needs it from many). Nor indeed does he magnify with words any favor of his own doing, if by chance he confers one, but rather undervalues it. And this is to be considered, that if you defend a man of power and fortune, the gratitude is confined to himself alone, or per haps to his children ; but if you defend a poor but worthy and modest man, all poor men who are not worthless (which is a vast multitude among the people) see a pro tection offered to themselves : wherefore, I think it better that a favor should be bestowed upon worthy persons than upon persons of fortune. We should by all means endeavor to satisfy every description of people. But if the matter shall come to competition, undoubtedly Themistocles is to be re ceived as an authority, who, when he was consulted whether a man should marry his daughter to a worthy poor man, or to a rich man of less approved character, said, " I certainly would rather she married a man without money, than money without a man."

" A grateful mind,

By owing, owes not, but still pays — at once Indebted and discliarg'd." — Milton.

CHAP. XXL CICERO'S OFFICES. 107

But our morals are corrupted and depraved by the admira tion of other men's wealth. Though what concern is its amount to any of us ? Perhaps it is of use to him who owns it ; not always even that : but admit that it is of use to himself, to be sure he is able to spend more, but how is he an honester man ? But if he shall be a good man besides, let his riches not prevent him from getting our assistance — only let them not help him to get it, and let the entire consideration be not how wealthy, but how worthy each individual is. But the last pre cept about benefits and bestowing our labor is, do nothing hostile to equity — nothing in defense of injustice. For the found ation of lasting commendation and fame is justice — without which nothing can be laudable.

XXI. But since I have finished speaking about that kind of benefits which have regard to a single citizen, we have next to discourse about those which relate to all the citizens together, and which relate to the public good. But of those very ones, some are of that kind which relate to all the citizens collectively ; some are such that they reach to all individually, which are likewise the more agreeable. The effort is by all means to be made, if possible, to consult for both, and notwithstanding, to consult also for them individ ually ; but in such a manner that this may either serve, or at least should not oppose, the public interest. The grant of corn proposed by Caius Gracchus was large, and therefor;would have exhausted the treasury; that of Marcus Octaviu:. was moderate, both able to be borne by the state, and ne<\ .sary for the commons; therefore it was salutary both for tin: citizens and for the nation. But it is in the first place to 1 u considered by him who shall have the administration of llio government, that each may retain his own, and that no dimi nution of the property of individuals be made by public authority. For Philip acted destructively, in his tribuneship, when he proposed the agrarian law, which, however, he readily suffered to be thrown out, and in that respect showed him self to be exceeding moderate ; but when in courting popu larity he drove at many things, he uttered this besides im properly, " that there were not in the state two thousand persons who possessed property." A dangerous speech, and aiming at a leveling of property — than which mischief, what can be greater 2 For commonwealths and states were established principally for this cause, that men should hold what was their own. For although mankind were congregated together by the guidance of nature, yet it was with the hops of preserving their own property that they sought the pro tection of cities.

Care should also be taken, lest, as often was the case among our ancestors, on account of the poverty of the treasury and the continuity of wars, it may be necessary to impose taxation, and it will be needful to provide long before that this should not happen. But if any necessity for such a burden should be fall any state (for I would rather speak thus than speak omi nously of our own ;' nor am I discoursing about our own state only, but about all states in general), care should be taken that all may understand that they must submit to the necessity if they wish to be safe.

And also all who govern a nation are bound to provide that there be abundance of those things which are neces saries — of which, what kind of a provision it is usual and proper to make, it is not necessary to canvass. For all that is obvious ; and the topic only requires to be touched on. But the principal matter in every administration of public business and employments is, that even the least suspicion of avarice be repelled. " Would to heaven," said Caius Pontius, the Samnite, " that fortune had reserved me for those times, and I had been born then, whenever the Romans may have begun to accept bribes — I would not have suffered them to reign much longer." He surely would have had to wait many generations. For it is of late that this evil has invaded this state ; therefore I am well pleased that Pontius was in ex istence rather at that time, since so much power resided in him. It is not yet a hundred and ten years since a law about bribery was passed by Lucius Piso, when previously there had been no such law. But afterward there were so many laws, and each successive one more severe, so many persons arraigned, so many condemned, such an Italian war excited through fear of condemnations, such a rifling and robbing of our allies, those laws and judgments were sus-

1 Plutarch relates that ^milius Paullus, on the conquest of Persius, king of Macedonia, brought home such an immense treasure, that the Roman people were entirely relieved from taxes until the consulship of Ilirtius and Pansa, which was the year after Cicero wrote this work.

CHAP. xxii. CICERO'S OFFICES. 109 pended, that we are strong through the weakness of others, not through our own valor.

XXII. Panaetius applauds Africanus because he was selfdenying. Why not applaud him ? But in him there were other and greater characteristics ; the praise of self-restraint was not the praise of the man only, but also of those times. Paullus having possessed himself of the whole treasure of the Macedonians, which was most immense, brought so much wealth into the treasury, that the spoils of one commander put an end to taxes ; but to his own house he brought nothing except the eternal memory of his name. Africanus, imitating his father, was nothing the richer for having overthrown Carthage. What ! Lucius Memmius, who was his colleague in the censorship, was he the wealthier for having utterly de stroyed the wealthiest of cities ? He preferred ornamenting Italy rather than his own house — although by the adorn ment of Italy, his own house itself seems to me more adorned. No vice, then, is more foul (that my discourse may return to the point from whence it digressed) than avarice, especially in great men and such as administer the re public. For to make a gain of the republic is not only base, but wicked also, and abominable. Therefore, that which the Pythian Apollo delivered by his oracle, " that Sparta would perish by nothing but its avarice," he seems to have predicted not about the Lacedaemonians alone, but about all opulent na tions. Moreover, they who preside over the state can by no way more readily conciliate the good-will of the multitude than by abstinence and self-restraint.

But they who wish to be popular, and upon that account either attempt the agrarian affair, that the owners may be driven out of their possessions, or think that borrowed money should be released to the debtors, sap the foundations of the constitution ; namely, that concord, in the first place, which can not exist when money is exacted from some, and forgiven to others; and equity, in the next place, which is entirely subverted, if each be not permitted to possess his own. For, as I said before, this is the peculiar concern of a state and city, that every person's custody of his own property be free and undisturbed. And in this destructive course to the state they do not obtain even that popu larity which they expect ; for he whose property is taken is

HO CICERO'S OFFICES. BOOK ir.

hostile ; he also to whom it is given disguises his willingness to accept it, and especially in lent moneys he conceals his joy that he may not appear to have been insolvent ; but he, on the other hand, who receives the injury, both remembers and proclaims his indignation ; nor if there are more in number to whom it is dishonestly given than those from whom it has been unjustly taken, are they even for that cause more success ful. For these matters are not determined by number, but by weight. Now, what justice is it that lands which have been pre-occupied for many years, or even ages, he who was pos sessed of none should get, but he who was in possession should lose ?

XXIII. And on account of this kind of injustice, the Lacedaemonians expelled their Ephorus Lysander, and put to death their king Agis — a thing which never before had happened among them. And from that time such great dissensions ensued, that tyrants arose, and the nobles were exiled, and a constitution admirably established fell to pieces. Nor did it fall alone, but also overthrew the rest of Greece by the contagion of evil principles, which having sprung from the Lacedaemonians, flowed far and wide. What ! was it not the agrarian contentions that destroyed our own Gracchi, sons of that most illustrious man Tiberius Grac chus, and grandsons of Africanus? But, on the contrary, Aratus, the Sicyonian, is justly commended, who, when his native city had been held for fifty years by tyrants, having set out from Argos to Sicyon, by a secret entrance got possession of the city, and when on a sudden he had over thrown the tyrant Nicocles, he restored six hundred exiles, who had been the wealthiest men of that state, and restored freedom to the state by his coming. But when he perceived a great difficulty about the goods and possessions, because he considered it most unjust both that they whom he had restored, of whose property others had been in possession, should be in want, and he did not think it very fair that possessions of fifty years should be disturbed, because that after so long an interval many of those properties were got possession of without injustice, by inheritance, many by purchase, many by marriage portions ; he judged neither that the properties ought to be taken from the latter, nor that these to whom they had belonged should be without satis-

CHAP. xxiv. CICERO'S OFFICES. Ill faction. When, then, he had concluded that there was need of money to arrange that matter, he said that he would go to Alexandria, and ordered the matter to be undisturbed until his return. He quickly came to his friend Ptolemy, who was then reigning, the second after the building of Alexandria, and when he had explained to him that he was desirous to liberate his country, and informed him of the case, this most eminent man readily received consent from the opulent king that he should be assisted with a large sum of money. When he had brought this to Sicyon, he took to himself for his council fifteen noblemen, with whom he took cognizance of the cases, both of those who held other persons' possessions, and of those who had lost their own ; and by valuing the possessions, he so managed as to persuade some to prefer receiving the money, and yielding up the possessions ; others to think it more convenient that there should be paid down to them what was the price, rather than they should resume possession of their own. Thus it was brought about that all departed without a complaint, and concord was established. Admirable man, and worthy to have been born in our nation ! Thus it is right to act with citizens, not (as we have now seen twice)1 to fix up a spear in the forum, and subject the goods of the citizens to the voice of the auctioneer. But that Greek thought, as became a wise and superior man, that it was necessary to consult for all. And this is the highest reason and wisdom of a good citizen, not to make divisions in the interests of the citizens, but to govern all by the same equity. Should any dwell free of expense in another man's house 1 Why so ? Is it that when I shall have bought, built, repaired, expended, you, without my will, should enjoy what is mine ? What else is this but to take from some what is theirs ; to give to some what is another man's ? But what is the meaning of an abolition of debts, unless that you should buy an estate with iny money — that you should have the estate, and I should not have my money ?

XXIV. Wherefore, it ought to be provided that there be not such an amount of debt as may injure the state — a thing which may be guarded against in many ways ; not that if there shall be such debt the rich should lose their

1 Under Sylla, and under Caesar.

rights, and the debtors gain what is another's — for nothing holds the state more firmly together than public credit, which can not at all exist unless the payment of money Knt shall be compulsory. It never was more violently pgitated than in my consulship, that debts should not be paid ; the matter was tried in arms and camps, by every rank and description of men, whom I resisted in such a manner, that this mischief of such magnitude was removed from the state-. Never was debt either greater, or better and more easily paid. For the hope of defrauding being frustrated, the necessity of paying followed. But on the other hand, this man, now our victor,1 but who was vanquished then, has accomplished the things which he had in view, when it was now a matter of no importance to himself. So great was the desire in ' him of doing wrong, that the mere wrong doing delighted him, although there was not a motive for it. From this kind of liberality, then, to give to some, to take from others, they will keep aloof who would preserve the commonwealth, and will take particular care that each may hold his own in equity of right and judgments ; and neither that advantage be taken of the poorer class, on account of their humbleness, nor that envy be prejudicial to the rich, either in keeping or recovering their own. They will besides increase the power of the state in whatever way they can, either abroad or at home, in authority, territories, tributes. These are the duties of great men. These were practiced among our ancestors ; they who persevere in those kinds of duties, will, along with the highest advantage to the republic, themselves obtain both great popularity and glory.

Now, in these precepts about things profitable, Antipater the Tynan, a Stoic, who lately died at Athens, considers that two things are passed over by PanaBtius — the care of health and of property — which matters I fancy were passed over by that very eminent philosopher because they were obvious ; they certainly are useful. Now, health is supported by under standing one's own constitution, and by observing wrhat things are accustomed to do one good or injury ;2 and by temperance

1 Caesar, who was suspected of a share in Catiline's conspiracy, after ward, in the first year of his dictatorship, when he was himself no longer in debt, passed a law, abolishing the fourth part of all debts.

2 Lord Bacon might be supposed to have had this passage before him

CHAP. xxv. CICERO'S OFFICES. 113 in all food and manner of living, for the sake of preserving the body ; and by forbearance in pleasures ; and lastly, by the skill of those to whose profession these things belong. Wealth ought to be acquired by those means in which there is no disgrace, but preserved by diligence and fiugaliiy, and increased, too, by the same means. These matters Xenophon, the Socratic philosopher, has discussed very completely in that book which is entitled (Economics, which I, when I was about that age at which you are now, translated from the Greek into Latin,

XXV. But a comparison of profitable things, since this was the fourth head, but passed 'over by Pansetius, is often necessary. For it is usual to compare the good estate of the body with external advantages, and external with those of the body, and those of the body among themselves, and external with external. The good estate of the body is compared with external advantages in this manner, that you had rather be healthy than wealthy. External with those of the body in this manner, to be wealthy rather than of the greatest physical strength. Those of the body among them selves, thus, that good health should be preferred to pleasure, and strength to speed. But the comparison of external objects is thus, that glory should be preferred to wealth, a city income to a country one. Of which kind of comparison is that reply of Cato the elder, of whom, when inquiry was made, what wras the best policy in the management of one's property, he answered, " Good grazing." " What was next ?" "Tolerable grazing." "What third?" "Bad grazing." "What fourth?" "Tilling." -And when he who had interrogated him inquired, "What do you think of lending at usuiy ?" Then Cato answered, " What do you think of killing a man?"1 From which, and many other things, ifc when he wrote the first paragraph of his thirtieth Essay on " Regimen of Health." "There is a wisdom in this beyond the rules of physic ; a man's own observation, what he finds good of, and what he finds hurt of, is the best physic to preserve health ; but it is a safer conclusion to say ' This agreeth not well with me, therefore I will not continue it.' than this, ' I find no offense of this, therefore I may use it,' for strength of nature in youth passes over many excesses which are owing a man till his age. Discern of the coming on of years, and think not to do the same things still ; for age will not be defied." — Bacon's Essays, Thirtieth Essay. 1 "Many have made witty invectives against usury. They say that ought to be understood that it is usual to make comparisons of profitable things; and that this was rightly added as a fourth head of investigating our duties. But about this entire head, about gaining money, about letting it out, also about spending it, the matter is discussed to more advantage by certain most estimable persons1 sitting at the middle Janus, than by any philosophers in any school. Yet these things ought to be understood ; for they relate to utility, about which we have discoursed in this book. We will next pass to what remains.

it is a pity the devil should have God's part, which is the tithe ; that the usurer is the greatest Sabbath breaker, because his plow goeth every Sunday , that the usurer is the drone that Virgil speaketh of:

'Ignavum fucos pecus a praesepibus arcent:' that the usurer breaketh the first law that was made for mankind after the fall winch was, ' in sudore vultus tui comedes panem tuum' not ' in. sudore vultus ahem:' that usurers should have orange-tawny bonnets, because they do judaise ; that it is against nature for money to beget money, and the like. I say this only, that usury is a 'concessum propter duritiem cordis:' for since there must be borrowing and lending, and men are so hard of heart as they will not lend freely, usury must be permitted. Some others have made suspicious and cunning propositions of banks, discovery of men's estates, and other inventions ; but few have spoken of usury usefully.'' — Bacon's Essay, Essay 4i.

1 He is speaking ironically of the usurers, numbers of whom frequented the middle Janus in the forum.

END OF SECOND BOOK.

CHAP. L CICERO'S OFFICES. 115

BOOK III.

I. PUBLIUS SCIPIO, my son Marcus, he who first was surnamed Africanus, was accustomed, as Cato, who was nearly of the same age as he, has written, to say " that he was never less at leisure than when at leisure, nor less alone than when he was alone." A truly noble saying, and worthy of a great and wise man, which declares that both in his leisure he was accustomed to reflect on business, and in solitude to converse with himself; so that he never was idle, and sometimes was not in need of the conversation of an other. Thus, leisure and solitude, two things which cause languor to others, sharpened him. I could wish it were in my power to say the same. But if I can not quite attain to any intimation of so great an excellence of disposition, I come very near it, in will at least. For, being debarred by impious arms and force from public affairs and forensic business, I remain in retirement ; and on that account having left the city, wandering about the fields, I am often alone. But neither is this leisure to be compared with the leisure of Africanus, nor this solitude with that. For he, reposing from the most honorable employments of the state, sometimes took leisure to himself, and sometimes betook himself from the concourse and haunts of men into his soli tude as into a haven : but my retirement is occasioned by the want of business, not by the desire of repose. For, the senate being extinct, and courts of justice abolished, what is there that I could do worthy of myself, either in the senatehouse or in the forum ? Thus, I who formerly lived in the greatest celebrity,1 and before the eyes of the citizens, now shunning the sight of wicked men, with whom all places abound, conceal myself as for as it is possible, and ofte: am alone. But since we have been taught by learned men, ; that out of evils it is fit not only to choose the least, but alscu from those very evils to gather whatever is good in them, I < therefore am both enjoying rest — not such, indeed, as he ought who formerly procured rest for the state, — and I am not allowing that solitude which necessity, not inclination, brings me, to be spent in idleness. Although, in my judg ment, Afiieanus obtained greater praise. For there aie ex tant no monuments of his genius committed to writing — no work of his leisure — no employment of his solitude. From which it ought to be understood that he was never either idle or solitary, because of the activity of his mind, and the investigation of those things which he pursued in thought. But I who have not so much strength that I can be drawn away from solitude by silent thought, turn all my study and care to this labor of composition. And thus I have written more in a short time, since the overthrow of the republic, than in the many years while it stood.

II. But as all philosophy, my Cicero, is fruitful and pro fitable, and no part of it uncultivated and desert — so no part in it is more fruitful and profitable than that about duties, from which the rules of living consistently and virtuously are derived. Wherefore, although I trust you constantly hear and learn these matters from my friend Cratippus, the prince of the philosophers within our memory, yet I think it is beneficial that your ears should ring on ail sides with such discourse, and that they, if it were possible, should hear nothing else. Which, as it ought to be done by all who design to enter upon a virtuous life, so I know not but it ought by no one more than you ; for you stand under no small expectation of emulating my industry — under a great one of emulating my honors — under no small one, per haps, of my fame. Besides, you have incurred a heavy responsi bility both from Athens and Cratippus ; and since you have gone to these as to a mart for good qualities, it would be most scandalous to return empty, disgracing the reputation both of the city and of the master. Wherefore, try and ac complish as much as you can, labor with your mind and with your industry (if 'it be labor to learn rather than a pleasure), and do not permit that, when all things have been supplied by! me, you should seem to have been wanting to yourself. But let this suffice ; for we have often written much to you for the purpose of encouraging you. Now let us return to the remaining part of our proposed division.

CHAP. m. CICERO'S OFFICES. 117

Panaatius, then, who without controversy has discoursed most accurately about duties, and whom I, making some cor rection, have principally followed, having proposed three heads under which men were accustomed to deliberate and consult about duty — one, when they were in doubt whether that about which they were considering was virtuous or base ; another, whether useful or unprofitable; a third, when that which ha I the appearance of virtue was in opposition to that which seemed useful, how this ought to be determined ; he unfolded the two first heads in three* books, but on the third head he said that he would afterward write, but did not perform what he had promised. At which I am the more •surprised on this account, that it is recorded by his disciple Posidonius, that Panaetius lived thirty years after he had published those books. And I am surprised that this matter should bo only briefly touched on by Posidonius in some commentaries, especially when he writes that there is no subject in all philosophy so necessary. But by no means do I agree with those who deny that this subject was casually omitted by Panaetius, but that it was designedly abandoned, and that it ought not to have been written at all, because utility could never be in opposition to virtue. On which point is one thing that may admit a doubt ; whether this head which is third in the division of Panaetius, ought to have been taken up, or whether it ought to have been altogether omitted. The other thing can not be doubted, that it was undertaken by Panretius, but left unfinished. For he who has completed two parts out of a three fold division, must have a third remaining. Besides, in the end of the third book he promises that he will afterward write about this third part. To this is also added a sufficient witness, Posi donius, who in a certain letter writes that Publius Rutilius Rufus, who had been a disciple of Panietius, had been ac customed to say, that as no painter could be found who could fiuish that part of the Coan Venus which Apelles had left unfinished (for the beauty of the countenance left no hope of making the rest of the body correspond), so no one could go through with those things which Pansetius had omitted, on account of the excellence of those parts which he had com pleted.

III. Wherefore, there can not be a doubt about the opinion of Panaetius ; but whether it was right in him, or otherwise, to join this third part to the investigation of duty, about this, perhaps, there may be a question. For whether virtue be the only good, as is the opinion of the Stoics, or whether that which is virtuous be, as it appears to your Peripatetics, ; so much the greatest good, that all things placed on the other i side have scarcely the smallest weight ; it is not to be doubted but that utility never can compare with virtue. Therefore we have learned that Socrates used to execrate those who had first separated in theory those tilings cohering in nature. To whom, indeed, the Stoics have so far assented, that they considered that whatever is virtuous is useful, and that noth ing can be useful which is not virtuous. But if Panasiius was one who would say that virtue was to be cultivated only on this account, because it was a means of procuring profit, as they do who measure the desirableness of objects either by pleasure or by the absence of pain, it would be allowable for him to say that our interest sometimes is opposed to virtue. But as he was one who judged that alone to be good which is virtuous, but that of such things as oppose this with some appearance of utility, neither the accession can make life better, nor the loss make it worse, it appears that he ought not to have introduced a deliberation of this kind, in which what seems profitable could be compared with that which is virtuous. For what is called the summum bonum j by the Stoics, to live agreeably to nature, has, I conceive, : this meaning — always to conform to virtue ; and as to all other things which may be according to nature, to take them if they should not be repugnant to virtue. And since this is so, some think that this comparison is improperly in troduced, and that no principle should be laid down upon this head. And, indeed, that perfection of conduct which is properly and truly called so, exists in the wise alone, and can never be separated from virtue. But in those persons in whom there is not perfect wisdom, that perfection can indeed by no means exist; but the likeness of it can. For the Stoics call all those duties about which we are discours ing in these books, mean duties (media officia). These are common, and extend wid?ly, wrhich many attain by the good ness of natural disposition, and by progressive improvement. But that duty which the same philosophers call right (rec-

CHAP. iv. CICERO'S OFFICES. 119 turn), is perfect and absolute, and, as the same philosophers say, has all the parts perfect, and can not fall to the lot of any but the wise man. But when any thing is performed in which mean duties appear, it seems to be abundantly perfect, because the vulgar do not at all understand how far it falls short of the perfect ; but as far as they understand, they think there is nothing wanting. Which same thing comes to pass in poems, in pictures, and in many other matters, that those things which should not be commended, the un skillful are delighted with and commend ; on this account, I suppose, that there is in these things some merit which catches the unskillful, who indeed are unable to judge what deficiency there may be in each. Therefore, when they are apprised of it by the initiated, they readily abandon their opinion.

IV. These duties, then, of which we are discoursing inj these books, they1 say are virtuous in some secondary degree / — not peculiar to the wise alone, but common to every de-^ scription of men. By these, therefore, all are moved in whom there is a natural disposition toward virtue. Nor, indeed, when the two Decii or the two Scipios are commem orated as brave men, or when Fabricius and An slides are called just, is either an example of fortitude looked for from the former, or of justice from the latter, as from wise men. For neither of these was wise in such a sense as we wish the term wise man to be understood. Nor were these who were esteemed and named wise, Marcus Cato and Caius Lselius, wise men ; nor were even those famous seven,2 but from the frequent performance of mean duties they bore some simili tude and appearance of wise men. Wherefore, it is neither right to compare that which is truly virtuous with what is repugnant to utility, nor should that which we commonly call virtuous, which is cultivated by those who wish to be esteemed good men, ever be compared with profits. And that virtue which falls within our comprehension is as much to be maintained and preserved by us, as that which is properly called, and which truly is virtue, is by the wise. For otherwise, whatever advancement is made toward vir tue, it can not be maintained. But these remarks are made

1 The Stoics.

2 The seven wise men of Greeceregarding those who are considered good men, on account of their observance of duties ; but those who measure all things by profit and advantage, and who do not consider that those things are outweighed by virtue, are accustomed, in deliberating, to compare virtue with that which they think profitable ; good men are not so accustomed. There fore, I think that Pansetius, when he said that men were accustomed to deliberate on this comparison, meant this very thing which he expressed — only that it was their cus tom, not that it was also their duty. For not only to think more of what seems profitable than what is virtuous, but even to compare them one with the other, and to hesitate between them, is most shameful. What is it, then, that is accustomed at times to raise a doubt, and seems necessary to be considered? I believe, whenever a doubt arises, it is what the character of that action may be about which one is considering. For oftentimes it happens, that what il accustomed to be generally considered disreputable, may he , found ..not to be disreputable.! Fur the sake of ex ample, let a case be supposed which has a wide applica tion. What can be greater wickedness than to slay not only a man, "but even an intimate friend? Has he then in volved himself in guilt, who slays a tyrant, however inti mate ? He does not appear so to the Roman people at least, who of all great exploits deem that the most honorable.1

1 " Tyrannicide, or the assassination of usurpers and oppressive princes, Was highly extolled in ancient times, because it both freed mankind from many of these monsters, and seemed to keep the others in awe whom the sword and poniard could not reach. But history and experience having since convinced us that this practice increases the jealousy and cruelty of princes, a TIMOLEON and a BRUTUS, though treated with indulgence on account of the prejudices of their times, are now considered as very improper models for imitation." — Hume's " Dissertation on the Passions."

" The arguments in favor of tyrannicide are built upon a very obvious principle. ' Justice ought universally to be administered. Crimes of an inferior description are restrained, or pretended to be restrained, by the ordinary operations of jurisprudence. But criminals, by whom the wel fare of the whole is attacked, and who overturn the liberties of mankind, are out of the reach of this restraint. If justice be partially administered in subordinate cases, and the rich man be able to oppress the poor with impunity, it must be admitted that a few examples of this sort are insuf ficient to authorize the last appeal of human beings; but no man will deny that the case of the usurper and the despot is of the most atrocious nature. In this instance, all the provisions of civil policy being super-

CHAP. IT. CICERO'S OFFICES. 121

Has expediency, then, overcome virtue? Nay, rather, expe diency has followed virtue. WrireYefore, that we may be able to decide without any mistake, if ever that which we call expediency (utile) shall appear to be at variance with that which we understand to be virtuous (honestum), a certain rule ought to be established, which if we will fol low in comparing such cases, we shall never fail in our duty. But this rule will be one conformable to the reason ing and discipline of the Stoics chiefly, which, indeed, we are following in these books, because, though both by the ancient Academicians and by your Peripatetics, who form erly were the same sect, things which are virtuous are preferred to those which seem expedient; nevertheless, those subjects are more nobly treated of by those1 to whom whatever is virtuous seems also expedient, and nothing exseded, and justice poisoned at the source, every man is left to execute for himself the decrees of immutable equity.' It may, however, be doubted, whether the destruction of a tyrant be, in any respect, a case of excep tion from the rules proper to be observed upon ordinary occasions. The tyrant has, indeed, no particular security annexed to his person, and may be killed with as little scruple as any other man, when the object is that of repelling personal assault. In all other cases, the extirpation of the offender by self-appointed authority, does not appear to be the ap propriate mode of counteracting injustice. For, first, either the nation, whose tyrant you would destroy, is ripe for the assertion and mainten ance of its liberty, or it is not. If it be, the tyrant ought to be deposed with every appearance of publicity. Nothing can be more improper, than for an affair, interesting to the general weal, to be conducted as if it were an act of darkness and shame. It is an ill lesson we read to mankind, when a proceeding, built upon the broad basis of general jus tice, is permitted to shrink from public scrutiny. The pistol and the dagger may as easily be made the auxiliaries of vice as of virtue. To proscribe all violence, and neglect no means of information and impar tiality, is the most effectual security we can have for an issue conformable to reason and truth. If, on the other hand, the nation be not ripe for a state of freedom, the man who assumes to himself the right of interposing violence, may indeed show the fervor of his conception, and gain a cer tain notoriety ; but he will not fail to be the author of new calamities to his country. The consequences of tyrannicide are well known. If the attempt prove abortive, it renders the tyrant ten times more bloody, ferocious, and cruel than before. If it succeed, and the tyranny be res tored, it produces the same effect upon his successors. In the climate of despotism some solitary virtues may spring up ; but in the midst of plots and conspiracies, there is neither truth, nor confidence, nor love, nor humanity." — Godwin's "Political Justice," book iv. chap. iv. 1 The Stoics.

pedient which is not virtuous, than by those according to whom that may be virtuous which is not expedient, and that expedient which is not virtuous. But to us, our Academic sect gives this great license, that we, whatever may seem most probable, by our privilege are at liberty to maintain. But I return to my rule.

V. To take away wrongfully, then, from another, and for one man to advance his own interests by the disadvantage of another man, is more contrary to nature than death, than poverty, than pain, than any other evils which can befall either our bodies or external circumstances. For, in the first place, it destroys human intercourse and society; for if we will be so disposed that each for his own gain shall despoil or offer violence to another, the inevitable conse quence is, that the society of the human race, which is most consistent with nature, will be broken asunder. As, supposing each member of the body was so disposed as to think it could be well if it should draw to itself the health of the adjacent member, it is inevitable that the whole body would be debilitated and would perish ; so if each of us should seize for himself the interests of another, and wrest whatever he could from each for the sake of his own emolument, the necessary consequence is, that human society and community would be overturned. It is indeed allowed, nature not opposing, that each should rather acquire for himself than for another, whatever pertains to the enjoyment of life ; but nature does not allow this, that by the spoliation of others we should increase our own means, resources, and opulence. Nor indeed is this forbid den by nature alone — that is, by the law of nations — but it is also in the same manner enacted by the municipal laws of countries, by which government is supported in individual states, that it should not be lawful to injure another man for the sake of one's own advantage.1 For this the laws look to, this they require, that the union of the citizens should be unimpaired ; those who are for severing it .they coerce by death, by banishment, by imprisonment, by fine. But what declares this much more is our natural reason, which is a law divine and human, which he who is willing to obey

1 " La plus sublime vertu est negative ; elle nous instruit de ne jamais fair© du mal a personne." — Rousseau.

(and all will obey it who are willing to live according to nature) never will suffer himself to covet what is another person's, and to assume to himself that which he shall have wrongfully taken from another.1 For loftiness and greatness of mind, and likewise community of feeling, justice and liber ality, are much more in accordance with nature, than pleas ure, than life, than riches — which things, even to contemn and count as nothing in comparison with the common good, is.ihe part of a great and lofty soul. Therefore, to take away wrongfully from another for the sake of one's own advan tage, is more contrary to nature than death, than pain, than other considerations of the same kind. And likewise, to undergo the greatest labors and inquietudes for the sake, if it were possible, of preserving or assisting all nations — . imitating that Hercules whom the report of men, mindful of his benefits, has placed in the council of the gods2 — is more in accordance with nature than to live in solitude, not only without any inquietudes, but even amid the greatest pleas ures, abounding in all manner of wealth, though you should also excel in beauty and strength. Wherefore, every man of the best and most noble disposition much prefers that life to this. From whence it is evinced that man, obeying nature, can not injure men. In the next place, he who injures another that he may himself attain some advantage, either thinks that he is doing nothing contrary to nature, or

1 " The word natural is commonly taken in so many senses, and is of so loose a signification, that it seems vain to dispute whether justice be natural or not If self-love, if benevolence, be natural to man — if reason and forethought be also natural — then may the same epithet be applied to justice, order, fidelity, property, society. Men's inclination, their ne cessities, lead them to combine ; their understanding and experience tell them that this combination is impossible, where each governs himself by no rule, and pays no regard to the possessions of others : and from these passions and reflections conjoined, as soon as we observe like passions and reflections in others, the sentiment of justice, throughout all ages, has infallibly and certainly had place in some degree or other, in every individual of the human species. In so sagacious an animal, what nec essarily arises from the exertion of his intellectual faculties, may justly be esteemed natural." — Hume's "Principles of Morals." Appendix III.

2 Horace adopts the same illustration in the following passage •

" Dignum laude virum Musa vetat mori : Ccelo Musa beat. Sic Jovis interest Optatia epulis impiger Hercules."

Lib. iv. Carm. 8, ver. 28-30.

thinks that death, poverty, pain, the loss of children, of kindred, and of friends, are more to be avoided than doing injury to another. If he thinks that nothing is done contrary to nature by injuring men, what use is there in disputing with him who would altogether take away from man what is human ? But if he thinks that indeed is to be shunned, but that those things, death, poverty, pain, are much worse, he errs in this, that he thinks any defect, either of body or fortune, more grievous than the defects of the mind.

VI. One thing, therefore, ought to be aimed at by all men ; that the interest of each individually, and of all collectively, should be the same ; for if each should grasp at his individual interest, all human society will be dissolved. And also, if nature enjoins this, that a man should desire to consult the in terest of a man, whoever he is, for the very reason that he is man, it necessarily follows that, as the nature, so the interest, of all mankind, is a common one. If that be so, we are all included under one and the same law of nature ; and if this too be true, we are certainly prohibited by the law of nature from injuring another. But the first is true ; therefore, the last is true. For that which some say, that they would take nothing wrongfully, for the sake of their own advantage, from a parent or brother, but that the case is different with other citizens, is indeed absur$> These establish the principle that they have nothing in the way of right, no society with their fellow-citizens, for the sake of the common interest — an opinion which tears asunder the whole social compact. They, again, who say that a regard ought to be had to fellowcitizens, but deny that it ought to foreigners, break up the com mon society of the human race, which, being withdrawn, bene ficence, liberality, goodness, justice, are utterly abolished. But they who tear up these things should be judged impious, even toward the immortal gods ; for they overturn the society es tablished by them among men, the closest bond of which so ciety is, the consideration that it is more contrary to nature that man, for the sake of his own gain, should wrongfully take from man, than that he should endure all such disadvantages, either external or in the person, or even in the mind itself, as are not the effects of injustice. For that one virtue, justice, is the mistress and queen of all virtues.1

1 There is no virtue so truly great and godlike as justice ; most of the

CHAP. vi. GICERO'S OFFICES. 125

Some person will perhaps say — should not the wise man, then, if himself famished with hunger, wrest food from another, some good-for-nothing fellow ? By no means ; for my life is not more useful to me than such a disposition of mind that I would do violence to no man for the sake of my own advantage. What ! If a worthy man could despoil Phalaris, a cruel and outrageous tyrant, of his gar ments, that he might not himself perish with cold, should he not do it ? These points are very easy to decide. For if you will wrongfully take away any thing from a good-fornothing man for the sake of your own interest, you will act unsociably and contrary to the law of nature. But if you be one who can bring much advantage to the state, and to human society if you remain in life, it may not deserve to be reprehended should you wrongfully take any thing upon that account from another. But if that be not the case, it is rather the duty of each to bear his own misfortune, than wrongfully to take from the comforts of another. Disease, then, or poverty, or any thing of this sort, is not more con trary to nature than is the wrongful taking or coveting what is another's. But the desertion of the common interest is other virtues are the virtues of created beings, or accommodated to our nature, as we are men. Justice is that which is practiced by God himself, and to be practiced in its perfection by none but him. Omniscience and omnipotence are requisite for the full exertion of it : the one to discover every degree of uprightness or iniquity in thoughts, words, and actions ; the other to measure out and impart suitable rewards and punishments. " As to be perfectly just is an attribute in the divine nature, to be so to the utmost of our abilities is the glory of a man. Such a one who has the public administration in his hands, acts like the representative of his Maker, in recompensing the virtuous and punishing the offender. By the extirpating of a criminal he averts the judgments of Heaven when ready to fall upon an impious people ; or, as my friend Cato expresses it much better in a sentiment conformable to his character: —

" ' When by just vengeance impious mortals perish,

The gods behold their punishment with pleasure,

And lay th' uplifted thunderbolt aside.'

"When a nation loses its regard to justice; when they do not look upon it as something venerable, holy, and inviolable ; when any of them dare presume to lessen affront, or verify those who have the distribution of it in their hands ; when a judge is capable of being influenced by any thing but law, or a cause may be recommended by any thing that is foreign to its own merits, we may venture to pronounce that such a nation is has tening to its ruin." — Guardian, JSo.. 99.

contrary to nature, for it is unjust. Therefore, the very law of nature which preserves and governs the interest of men, decrees undoubtedly that things necessary for living should be transferred from an inert and useless fellow to a wise, good, and brave man, who, if he should perish, would largely take away from the common good ; provided he do this1 in such a manner, that he do not, through thinking well of himself, and loving himself, make this an excuse for com mitting injustice. Thus will he always discharge his duty, advancing the interests of mankind, and that human so ciety of which I so often make mention.2 Now, as to what

1 That is, provided lie transfer to himself the necessaries of life from a worthless person.

2 "In a loose and general view," says Godwin, '• I and my neighbor are both of us men ; and of consequence entitled to equal attention. But, in reality, it is probable that one of us is a being of more worth and importance than the other. A man is of more worth than a beast, because, being possessed of higher faculties, he is capable of a more re fined and genuine happiness. In the same manner the illustrious Arch bishop of Cambray was of more worth than his valet, and there are few of us that would hesitate to pronounce, if his palace were in flames, and the life of only one of them could be preserved, which of the two ought to be preferred. But there is another ground of preference, besides the private consideration of one of them being further removed from the state of a mere animal. "We are not connected with one or two percipient beings, but with a society, a nation, and in some sense with the whole family of mankind. Of consequence that life ought to be preferred which will be most conducive to the general good. In saving the life of Feuelon, suppose at that moment he conceived the project of his immortal Telemachus, I should have been promoting the benefit of thousands who have been cured by the perusal of that work of some error, vice, and conse quent unhappiness. Nay, my benefit would extend further than this ; for every individual thus cured, has become a better member of society, and has contributed in his turn to the happiness, information, and improve ment of others Suppose I had been myself the valet, I ought to have chosen to die rather than Fenelon should have died : the life of Fenelon was really preferable to that of the valet. But understanding is the fac ulty that perceives the truth of this and similar propositions, and justice is the principle that regulates my conduct accordingly. It would have been just in the valet to have preferred the archbishop to himself; to have done otherwise would have been a breach of justice. Suppose the valet had been my brother, my father, or my benefactor, this would not alter the truth of the proposition. The life of Fenelon would still be more valuable than that of the valet ; and justice, pure and unadulterated justice, would still have preferred that which was most valuable. Justice would have taught me to save the life of Fenelon at the expense of the other."— Political Justice, book ii. chap. 2.

CHAP. vii. CICERO'S OFFICES. 127 relates to Phalaris, the decision is very easy ; for we have no society with tyrants, but rather the widest separation from them ; nor is it contrary to nature to despoil, if you can, him whom it is a virtue to slay — and this pestilential and impious class ought to be entirely exterminated from the community of mankind. For as certain limbs are amputated, both if they themselves have begun to be destitute of blood, and, as it were, of life, and if they injure the other parts of the body, so the brutality and ferocity of a beast in the figure of a man, ought to be cut off from the common body, as it were, of humanity.

Of this sort are all those questions in which our duty is sought out of the circumstances of the case.

VII. In this manner, then, I think Pansetius would have pursued these subjects, had not some accident or occupation interrupted his design ; for which same deliberations there are in his former books rules sufficiently numerous, by which it can be perceived what ought to be avoided on account of its baseness, and what therefore need not be avoided because it is not at all base. But since I am putting, as it were, the top upon a work incomplete, yet nearly finished, as it is the custom of geometers not to demonstrate every thing, but to require that some postulates be granted to them, that they may more readily explain what they intend, so I ask of you my Cicero, that you grant me, if you can, that nothing except what is virtuous is worthy to be sought for its own sake. But if this be not allowed you by Cratippus,1 still you will at least grant that what is virtuous is most worthy to be sought for its own sake. Whichever of the two you please is sufficient for me, and sometimes the one, sometimes the other, seems the more probable ; nor does any thing else seem probable.2

And in the first place, Pansetius is to be defended in this, that he did not say that the really expedient could ever be opposed to the virtuous (for it was not permitted to him3 to

1 Cratippus, as a Peripatetic, held that virtue was not the only good, but that other things, such as health, etc., were good, and therefore to be sought for their own sakes, though in a less degree than virtue ; or, in other words, the Peripatetics admitted natural as well as moral good — the Stoics did not.

'•* That is to say, he does not admit the probability of the correctness of such as Epicurus, or Hieronymus, etc., who held that pleasure, the absence of pain, etc., were worth seeking; on their own account

3 Because he was a Stoic.

say so), but only those things which seemed expedient. But he often bears testimony that nothing is expedient which is not likewise virtuous — nothing virtuous which is not likewise ex pedient ; and he denies that any greater mischief has ever at tacked the race of men than the opinion of those persons who would separate these things. It was not, therefore, in order that we should prefer the expedient to the virtuous, but in order that we should decide between them without error, if ever they should come in collision, that he introduced that opposition which seemed to have, not which has, existence. This part, therefore, thus abandoned, I will complete with no help, but, as it is said with my own forces. For there has not, since the time of Pansetius, been any thing delivered upon this subject, of all the works which have come to my hands, that meets my ap probation.

VIII. When, therefore, any appearance of expediency is presented to you, you - are necessarily affected by it ; but if, when you direct your attention to it, you see moral turpitude attached to that which offers the appearance of expediency, then you are under an obligation not to abandon expediency, but to understand that there can not be real expediency where there is moral turpitude; because, since nothing is so contrary to nature as moral turpitude (for nature desires the upright, the suitable and the consistent, and rejects the reverse), and nothing is so agreeable to nature as expe diency, surely expediency and turpitude can not co-exist in the same subject. And again, since we are born for virtue, and this either is the only thing to be desired, as it appeared to Zeno, or is at least to be considered weightier in its entire importance than all other things, as is the opinion of Aristotle, it is the necessary consequence, that whatever is virtuous either is the only, or it is the highest good ; but whatever is good is certainly useful — therefore, whatever is virtuous is useful.1 Wherefore, it is an error

1 The following parallel passage will not only show how nearly the ethics of Cicero approach to those of a Christian philosopher, but will also suggest the reason why they are not entirely coincident. " It is suffi ciently evident," says Dymond, upon the principles which have hitherto been advanced, a that considerations of utility are only so far obligatory, as they are in accordance with the moral law. Pursuing, however, the method which has been adopted in the two last chapters, it may be ob served that this subserviency to the Divine will, appears to be required

CHAP. IX. CICERO'S OFFICES. 129 of bad men, which, when it grasps at something which seems useful, separates it immediately from virtue. Hence spring stilettos, hence poisons, hence forgery of wills, hence thefts, embezzlements, hence robberies and extortions from allies and fellow-citizens, hence the intolerable oppressions of ex cessive opulence — hence, in fine, even in free states, the lust of sway, than which nothing darker or fouler can be con ceived. iFor men view the profits of transactions with false judgment, but they do not see the punishment — I do not say of the laws, which they often break through, but of moral turpitude itself, which is more severe. Wherefore, this class of skeptics should be put out of our consider ation (as being altogether wicked and impious), who hesitate whether they should follow that which they see is virtuous, or knowingly contaminate themselves with wicked ness.' For the guilty deed exists in the very hesitation, even though they shall not have carried it out. Therefore, such matters should not be at all deliberated about, in which the very deliberation is criminal ; and also from every delibera tion the hope and idea of secrecy and concealment ought to be removed. For we ought to be sufficiently convinced, if we have made any proficiency in philosophy, that even though we could conceal any transaction from all gods and men, yet that nothing avaricious should be done, nothing unjust, nothing licentious, nothing incontinent.

IX. To this purpose Plato introduces that celebrated by the written revelation. The habitual preference of futurity to the present time which Scripture exhibits, indicates that our interests here should be held in subordination to our interests hereafter ; and as these higher interests are to be consulted by the means which revelation pre scribes, it is manifest that those means are to be pursued, whatever wo may suppose to be their effects upon the present welfare of ourselves or of other men. ' If in this life only we have hope in God, then are we of ah1 men most miserable.' And why did they thus sacrifice expediency ? Because the communicated will of God required that course of life by which human interests were apparently sacrificed. It will be perceived that these considerations result from the truth (too little regarded in talking of 'expediency' and 'general benevolence'), that utility as res pects mankind can not be properly consulted without taking into account our interests in futurity. 'Let us eat and drink, for to-morrow we die,' is a maxim of which all would approve if we had no concerns with another life. That which might be very expedient if death were anni hilation, may be very inexpedient now." — Essay on Morality, Essay I. chap. iii.

Gyges, who, when the earth had opened, in consequence of certain heavy showers, descended into that chasm, and, as tradition goes, beheld a brazen horse, in whose side was a door, on opening which he beheld the body of a dead man of extraordinary size, and a gold ring upon his finger, which when he had drawn off, he himself put it on, and then betook himself to the assemby of the shepherds (for he was the king's shepherd). There, when he turned the stone of this ring to the palm of his hand, he was visible to no person, but himself saw every thing; and when he had turned the ring into its proper place, he again became visible. Having em ployed, then, this convenience of the ring, he committed adultery with the queen, and, with her assistance, slew the king, his master, and got rid of those whom he considered likely to oppose him. Nor could any one discover him in these crimes. So with the assistance of the ring he suddenly sprang up to be king of Lydia. Now, if a wise man had this ring itself, he would think that he was no more at liberty to commit crime than if he had it not. For virtue, not secrecy, is sought by good men. And here some philosophers, and they indeed by no means unworthy men, but not very acute, say that the story told by Plato is false and fabulous, just as if he indeed maintained either that it had happened or could have happened. The import of this ring and of this example is this — if nobody were to know, nobody even to suspect that you were doing any thing for. the sake of riches, power, domination, lust — if it would be for ever unknown to gods and men, would you do it ? They deny that the case is possible. But though indeed it be possible, I only inquire what they would do if that wrere possible' which they deny to be so. They argue very stupidly, for they simply deny that it is possible, and they persist in that answer. They do not perceive what is the force of that expression, " if it were possible." For when we ask what they would do if they possibly could conceal, we are not asking whether they really could conceal ; but we are putting them, as it were, to the torture, that if they answer that thev would do, if impunity were offered, what it was their interest to clo, they must confess that they are wicked ; if they deny that they would do so, they must admit that all base actions are to be shunned on their own account. But now let us return to our subject.

CHAP. x. CICERO'S OFFICES, 131

X. Many cases frequently occur, which disturb our minds by the appearance of expediency. Not when this is the subject of deliberation, whether virtue should be deserted on account of the magnitude of the profit (for on this, indeed, it is dishonest to deliberate), but this, whether or no that which seems profitable can be done without baseness. When Brutus deposed his colleague, Collatinus, from his command, he might seem to be acting with injustice; for Collatinus had been the associate and assistant in the councils of Brutus in expelling the kings. But when the rulers had taken this counsel, that the kindred of Superbus, and the name of the Tarquinii, and the memory of royalty were to be rooted out; that which was useful, namely, to consult for his country, was so virtuous that it ought to have pleased even Collatinus himself. Therefore the expediency of the measure prevailed with Brutus on account of its rectitude, without which expediency could not have even existed. But it was otherwise in that king who founded the city ; for the appear ance of expediency influenced his mind, since, when it seemed to him more profitable to reign alone than with another, he slew his brother. He disregarded both affection and humanity, that he might obtain that which seemed useful, but was not. And yet he set up the excuse about the wall — a pretense of virtue neither probable nor very suitable : therefore, with all due respect to Quirinus or Romulus,1 1 would say that he committed a crime.

Yet our own interests should not be neglected by us, nor given up to others when we ourselves want them ; but each should serve his own interest, as far as it can be done with out injustice to another: — Chrysippus has judiciously made this remark like many others : — " He, who runs a race, ought to make exertions, and struggle as much as he can to be victor ; but he ought by no means to trip up or push with his hand the person with whom he is contesting. Thus in life it is not unjust that each, should seek for himself what may pertain to his advantage — it is not just that he should take from another."

But our duties are principally confused in cases of friend ship ; for both not to bestow on them what you justly may, and to bestow what is not just, are contrary to duty. But the rule regarding this entire subject is short and easy. For

1 Romulus, when deified, waa called Quirinus.

those things which seem useful — honors, riches, pleasures, and other things of the same kind — should never be preferred to friendship. But, on the other hand, for the sake of a friend a good man will neither act against the state, nor against his oath and good faith — not even if he shall he judge in the case of his friend — for he lays aside the character of a friend when he puts on that of a judge. So much he will concede to friendship that he had rather the cause of his friend were just, and that he would accommo date him as to the time of pleading his cause as far as the laws permit. But when he must pronounce sentence on his oath, he will remember that he has called the divinity as witness — that is, as I conceive, his own conscience, than which the deity himself has given nothing more divine to man. Therefore we have received from our ancestors <i noble custom, if we would retain it, of entreating the judge for what he can do with safe conscience. This entreaty has reference to those things which, as I mentioned a little while ago, could be granted with propriety by a judge to his friend. For if all things were to be done which friends would wish, such intimacies can not be considered friendships, but rather conspiracies. But I am speaking of common friendships; for there could be no such thing as that among wise and perfect men. They tell us that Damon and Phintias, the Pythagoreans, felt such affection for each other, that when Dionysius, the tyrant, had appointed a day for the exe cution of one of them, and he who had been condemned to death had entreated a few days for himself, for the purpose of commending his family to the care of his friends, the other became security to have him forthcoming, so that if he had not returned, it would have been necessary for himself to die in his place. When he returned upon the day, the tyrant having admired their faith, entreated that they would admit him as a third to their friendship.

When, therefore, that which seems useful in friendship is compared with that which is virtuous, let the appearance of expediency be disregarded, let virtue prevail. Moreover, when in friendship, things which are not virtuous shall be required of us, religion and good faith should be preferred to friendship. Thus that distinction of duty which we are seeking will be preserved.

XI. But it is in state affairs that men most frequently

CHAP. XI. CICERO'S OFFICES. 133 commit crimes under the pretext of expediency — as did our countrymen in the demolition of Corinth : the Athenians still more -harshly, since they decreed that the thumbs of the ^Eginetans, who were skillful in naval matters, should be cut off. This seemed expedient ; for ^Egina, on account of its proxi mity, was too formidable to the Piraeus. But nothing which is cruel can be expedient ; for cruelty is most revolting to the nature of mankind, which we ought to follow. Those, too, do wrong who prohibit foreigners to inhabit their cities, and banish them, as Pennus did among our ancestors, and Papius did lately. For it is proper not to permit him to be as a citizen who is not a citizen — a law which the wisest of consuls, Crassus and Scsevola, introduced : but to prohibit foreigners from dwelling in a city is certainly inhuman. Those are noble actions in which the appearance of public expediency is treated with contempt in comparison with virtue. Our state is full of examples, as well frequently - on other occasions as especially in the second Punic war, when she, having suffered the disaster at Cannae, exhibited greater spirit than ever she did in her prosperity — no indication of fear, no mention of peace. So great is the power of virtue, that it throws the' sem blance of expediency into the shade. When the Athenians could by no means withstand the attack of the Persians, and determined that, having abandoned their city, and deposited their wives and children at Troezene, they should embark in their vessels, and with their fleet protect the liberties of Greece, they stoned one Cyrsilus, who was persuading them to remain in the city, and to receive Xerxes : though he seemed to pursue expediency ; but it was unreal, as being opposed to virtue. Thernistocles, after the victory in that war which took place with the Persians, said in the assembly, that he had a plan salutary for the state, but that it was necessary that it should not be publicly known. He demanded that the people should appoint somebody with whom he might communicate. Aristides was appointed. To him he disclosed that the fleet of the Lacedaemonians, which was in dock at Gytheum, could secretly be burned; of which act the necessary consequence would be, that the power of the Lacedaemonians would be broken; which, when Aristides had heard, he came into the assembly amid great expecta tions of the people, and said that the Dlan which Themistocles proposed was very expedient, but by no means honorable. Therefore, the Athenians were of opinion that what was not upright was not even expedient, and on the authority of Aristides, rejected that entire matter which they had not even heard. They acted better than we who have pirates free from tribute, and allies paying taxes.

XII. Let it be inferred, then, that what is base never is expedient, not even when you obtain what you think to be useful. For this very thinking what is base to be expedient, is mischievous. But, as I said before, cases often occur, when profit seems to be opposed to rectitude, so that it is ne cessary to consider whether it is plainly opposed, or "can be reconciled with rectitude. Of that sort are these questions. If, for example, an honest man has brought from Alexandria to Rhodes a great quantity of grain during the scarcity and famine of the Rhodians, and the very high prices of provi sions; if this same man should know that many merchants had sailed from Alexandria, and should have seen their ves sels on the way laden with corn, and bound for Rhodes, should he tell that to the Rhodians, or keeping silence, should he sell his own corn at as high a price as possible ? We are supposing a wise and honest man ; we are inquiring about the deliberation and consultation of one who would not conceal the matter from the Rhodians if he thought it dishonorable, but is in doubt whether it be dishonorable. In cases of this sort, one view was habitually taken by Diogenes, the Baby lonian, a great and approved Stoic; and a different view by Antipater, his pupil, a very acute man. It seems right to Antipater, that every thing should be disclosed, so that the buyer should not be ignorant of any thing at all that the seller knew. To Diogenes it appears that the seller ought, just as far as is established by the municipal law to declare the faults, to act in other respects without fraud ; but since he is selling, to wish to sell at as good a price as possible. I have brought my corn — I have set it up for sale — I am selling it, not at a higher rate than others, perhaps, he will even say for less, since the supply is increased ; to wrhom is there injustice done ? The argument of Antipater proceeds on the other side. What do you say ? When you ought to consult for the good of mankind, and to benefit human society, and were born under this law, and have these principles from

CHAP. xiii. CICERO'S OFFICES. 135 nature, which you ought to obey and comply with, that your interest should be the common interest, and reciprocally, the common interest yours — will you conceal from men what ad vantage and plenty is near them ? Diogenes will answer perhaps, in this manner. It is one thing to conceal from them, another thing to be silent on the subject : " I do not conceal from you now, if I do not tell you what is the nature of the gods, or what is the supreme good ; things, the know ledge of which would be more beneficial to you than the low price of wheat. But is there any necessity for me to tell you whatever is beneficial to you to know ?" " Yes, indeed," the other will say, " it is necessary,' that is, if you remember that there is a social tie established between men by nature." " I remember that," he will answer, " but is that social tie such that each has nothing of his own ? for if it be so, we should not even sell any thing, but make a present of it."

XIII. You see, throughout all this disputation, it is not said, although this act be base, yet since it is profitable I will do it ; but on the one side it is said it is profitable in so much as it is not a base act ; and on the other side, be cause it Js base,' on this account it should not be done. An honest man would dispose of a house on account of some faults which he himself knows, but others are ignorant of; it is unwholesome, though considered healthy ; it is not known that snakes make their appearance in all the bed chambers ; it is built of bad materials, ready to fall ; but nobody knows this except the master. I ask, if the seller should not tell these things to the buyer, and should sell the house for a great deal more than he thought he could sell it for, whether he would have acted unjustly or dishonestly? He surely would, says Antipate'r. For if suffering a purchaser to come to loss, arid to incur the greatest damage by mistake, be not that which is lorbidden at Athens with public execrations, namely, a not pointing out the road to one going astray, what else is ? It is even more than not showing the way ; for it is knowingly leading another astray. Diogenes argues on the other side. Has he forced you to purchase who did not even request you to do so ? He advertised for sale a house that did not please him ; you have purchased one that pleased you. But if they who advertised k' a, good and well built country house," are not thought to have prac ticed fraud, even though it be neither good nor well built ;

much less have they who have not praised their house. For where there is judgment in the buyer, what fraud can there be in the seller ? But if it be not necessary to make good all that is said, do you think, it necessary to make good that which is not said ? For what is more foolish than that the seller should relate the defects of that which he sells ? Or, what so absurd as that, by the command of the owner, the auctioneer should thus proclaim : " I am selling an unhealthy house." In some doubtful- cases, then, virtue is thus defended on the one side ; on the other side, it is said on the part of expediency, that it not only is virtuous to do that which seems profitable, but even disgraceful not to do it. This is that dissension which seems often to exist between the profitable and the virtuous. Which matters we must decide. For we have not proposed them that we might make a question of them, but that we might explain them. That corn merchant, then, seems to me to be bound not to practice concealment on the Rhodians, nor this house-seller on the purchasers. For it is not practicing concealment if you should be silent about any thing ; but when for the sake of your own emolument you wish those, whose interest it is to know that which you know, to remain in ignorance. Now, as to this sort of con cealment, who does not see what kind of thing it is, arid what kind of a man will practice it ? Certainly not an open, not a single-minded, not an ingenuous, not a just, not a good man ; but rather a wily, close, artful, deceitful, knavish, crafty, double-dealing, evasive -fellow.1 Is it not inexpedient to

1 On referring to the conclusion of the last chapter, it will be seen that neither does Diogenes prove, nor does Antipater admit, that by the cornmerchant's silence any rule of morality is infringed. On what ground and for what reason was it incumbent on him to disclose the fact which acci dentally came to his knowledge, that other cargoes of corn were at sea ? none is assigned, but that buyers and sellers are bound by the same social ties. But these do not, as Antipater observes, bind us to communicate to every body all we know. In withholding this information, which was wholly extrinsic to his bargain, no confidence was violated. Had he dis closed it, the price of the commodity in which he dealt would have been materially reduced. However noble-minded or liberal it might be in him to put the buyer in possession of all the intelligence on the subject within his power, no rules of justice were violated by his withholding it. And these are, as Adam Smith observes (Theory of Moral Sentiments, iv. 7), " the only rules which are precise and accurate ; those of other virtues are vague and indeterminate. The first may be compared to the rules of grammar; the others to the rules which the critics lay down for the

CHAP. XT?. CICERO'S OFFICES, 137 pose ourselves to the imputations of so many vices, and even more?

XIV. But if they are to be blamed who have kept silent, what ought to be thought of those who have practiced false hood in word ? Caius Canius, a Roman knight,, not without wit, and tolerably learned, when he had betaken himself to Syracuse, for the sake, as he was himself accustomed to say, of enjoyment, not of business, gave out that he wished to purchase some pleasure-grounds, whither he could invite his friends, and where he could amuse himself without intruders. When this had got abroad, one Pythius, who practiced dis counting at Syracuse, told him that he had pleasure-grounds, not indeed for sale, but that Canius was at liberty to use them as his own if he desired, and at the same time he in vited the gentleman to dinner at the pleasure-grounds on the following day. When he had promised to go, then Pythius, who, as a discounter, was well liked among all ranks, called some fishermen to him, and requested of them that upon the following day they should fish in front of his grounds, and told them what he wished them to do. In due time, Canius came to dinner — the entertainment was sumptuously pro vided by Pythius — a crowd of fishing-boati before their eyes. Each fisherman for himself brought what he had caught ; the fish were laid before the feet of Pythius. Then danius says, " What is this, pray, Pythius — so much fish — so many boats ?" And he answers, " What 's the wonder ? Whatever fish there are at Syracuse are taken at this place ; here is their wateringplace ; these men could not do without this villa." Canius, attainment of the sublime, which present us rather with a general idea of the perfection we ought to aim at, than afford us any certain and in fallible directions for acquiring it." Puffendorf, considering this very question, after deciding that no rule of justice was infringed by the cornmerchant, absolves him also from any offense against the laws of benev olence and humanity. In this opinion his ingenious commentator, Barbeyrac, fully agrees, and cites the opinion of a strict casuist, La Placette, to the same effect. Had the merchant, on his arrival, found the market forestalled by the importation of corn from some other quarter, or had he on the voyage lost ship or cargo, he could not have expected from the Rhodiaris the reimbursement of his loss. Why then should he not avail himself of a favorable state of the market? All concur, therefore, in de ciding that he was not bound in conscience to a disclosure, " provided merchants do not impose on us, we may easily dispense them," says Puffendorf, " from all acts of pure liberality."

138 CICEBO'S OFFICES. ' BOOK m.

inflamed with desire, presses Pythius to sell. He is unwill ing at first ; but, to be brief, he obtains his wish. The man, eager and wealthy, purchases the place at as much as Pythius demands, and purchases it furnished. He draws the articles and completes the transaction. Canius on the following day invites his friends. He comes early himself; he sees not a boat ; he asks of his next neighbor, was it any holiday with the fishermen, that he saw none of them. " None that I know," said he : " but none used to fish here, and there fore I was amazed at what happened yesterday." Canius got angry ; yet what could he do ? for my colleague and friend Aquillius had not yet brought out the forms about criminal devices ; in which very forms, when it was inquired of him, " What is a criminal device ?" he answered, " When one thing is pretended, and another thing done." Very clearly, indeed, was this laid down ; as by a man skilled in definition. Therefore, both Pythius, and all those who do one thing, while feigning another, are perfidious, base, knavish. No act of theirs, then, can be useful, when it is stained with so many vices. XV. But if the Aquillian definition is true, pretense and dissimulation ought to be banished from the whole of life ; so that neither to buy better, nor to sell, will a good man feign or disguise any thing. And this criminal device was punished both by the statute laws (as in the case of guardianship by the twelve tables, in that of the defrauding of minors, by the Plsetorian law), and by judicial decisions without legal enactment, in which is added " according to good faith" (EX FIDE BONA). Moreover, in other judgments, the following phrases are very excellent : in the arbitration of a cause matrimonial, the phrase, ** MELIUS ^EQUIUS ;" in a case of trust, the phrase, " UT INTER BONOS BENE AGIER." * What then ? Can there be any room for fraud either in that

1 The Prastor had an equitable jurisdiction. It is to his decrees the text refers ; and as the principal subjects that came before him were bona fide contracts, not binding in strict law, but in which he decided accord ing to conscience, and used in these decrees a set form of words, " ex fide bona agatur," the decisions on this and all other cases in equity came to be called judicia, bonce fidei. Two other set forms are mentioned in the text; one used in the case of divorce (as well as in all other cases of arbitration), where arbitrators, decreeing the restoration of the wife's property, employed the form QUANTUM JSQUIUS MELIUS. The other formula was usual in cases of trust ; it ran thus : INTER BONOS BEN&

AGIER ET SINE FRAUDATIONE.

CHAP. XT. CICERO'S OFFICES. 139 transaction which is decreed to be adjusted " better and fairer ?" Or can any thing be done deceitfully or knavishly, when it is pronounced " that among honest men there must be fair dealing ?" But criminal device, as Aquillius says, is comprised in pretense ; therefore all deceit should be excluded from contracts. The seller should not bring a person to bid over the value, nor the buyer one to bid under him. Each of the two, if he should come to name a price, should not name a price more than once. Quintus Scsevola, indeed, the son of Publius, when he re' quired that a price of a property of which he was about to become a purchaser should be named to him once for all, and the seller had done so, said that he valued it at more, and gave in addition a hundred sestertia. There is no person who can deny that this was the act of an hopest man ; they deny that it was of a prucjent man ; just as it would be if a man should sell a thing for less than he could get.) This, then, is the mischief — that persons think some men honest, , others prudent ; through which mistake Ennius remarks, " that the wise man is wise in vain, who can not be of use to himself." That indeed is true, if it be only agreed on between me and Ennius what " to be of use" means. I see, indeed, Hecaton of Rhodes, the scholar of Panaetius, saying, in those books about duties which he wrote to Quintus Tubero, "that it was the duty of a wise man, that doing nothing contrary to manners, laws, and institutions, he should have regard to improving his prop erty ; for we do not wish to be rich for ourselves alone, but for our children, kindred, friends, and especially for our country ; for the means and affluence of each individually constitute the riches of the state." To this philosopher the conduct of Scaevola, about which I spoke a little while ago, can by no means be pleasing ; for to him who disavows that he would do for the sake of his- own gain only just so much, as is not illegal, neither grea,t pains nor thanks are due. But if pretense and dissimulation are criminal de vices, there are few affairs in which that criminal device may not be employed ; or if a good man is he who serves whom he can, injures nobody — certainly we do not easily find such a good man ; to do wrong, then, is never profitable, because it is always base; and to be a good man is always profitable, because it is always virtuous.

XVI. And with respect to the law of landed estates, it is ordained among us by the civil law, that by selling them, the faults should be declared which were known to the seller. For though by the twelve tables it was sufficient to be answerable for those defects which were expressly men tioned, which he who denied suffered a penalty of double the value, yet a penalty for silence also was established by the lawyers. For they determined that, if the seller knew what ever defect there was in an estate, he ought to make it good, unless it was expressly mentioned. Thus, when the augurs were about to officiate on the augurs' hill,1 and had com manded Titus Claudius Centumalus, who had a house on the Cselian Mount, to take down those parts of it, the height of which obstructed their auspices, Claudius set up the house for sale, and he sold it ; Publius Calpurnius Lanarius pur chased it. That same notice was given to him by the augurs ; therefore, when Calpurnius had pulled it down, and had discovered that Claudius had advertised the house after he had been commanded by the augurs to pull it down, he brought him before an arbitrator, to decide " what he ought to give or do for him in good faith." Marcus Cato pro nounced the sentence ; the father of this our Cato (for as other men are to be named from their father, so he who begot that luminary ought to be named from his son). This judge, then, decreed as follows : — " Since in selling he had known that matter, and had not mentioned it, that he ought to make good the loss to the purchaser." There fore he established this principle, that it concerned good faith that a defect which the seller was aware of should be made known to the purchaser ; but if he decided with justice, then that corn-merchant did not with justice keep silent, nor that seller of the unhealthy house.2 However, all mental

1 The Capitoline.

2 A commentator on this passage very justly observes, that " the anal ogy is by no means perfect between the cases. Claudius withheld from the buyer information respecting that very house, by which its utility and its value were materially reduced. In fact the house which he sold was not the identical house, as he well knew, which in a short period would be standing on that spot ; it must be replaced by a house less lofty, and which would cost to the buyer no small sum to unroof, reduce, and alter. This information related, therefore, to the house itself which he sold and warranted. Not so with regard to the corn sold at Rhodes ; the quality of the corn was not there in question ; the intelligence which the mer-

CHAP. xvii. CICERO'S OFFICES, 141 reservations of this kind can not be comprehended in the civil law ; but those which can are carefully checked. Marcus Marius Gratidianus, our kinsman, sold to Cains Sergius Grata that house which he had himself purchased from the same man a few years before. This house was subject to a service ; * but Marius had not mentioned this in the con ditions of conveyance. The matter was brought to trial. Crassus was counsel for Grata ; Antonius defended Gratidi anus : Crassus relied on the law — whatever defect a seller who knows it had not disclosed, it is fit that he should make good : Antonius relied on the equity — that since that defect could not have been unknown to Sergius, who had formerly sold the house, there was no necessity that it should be disclosed ; neither could he be deceived, who was aware under what liability that which he had bought was placed. To what purpose these accounts ? That you may understand this, that cunning men were not approved by our ancestors.

XVII. But the laws abolish frauds in one way, philoso phers in another : the laws, as far as they can lay hold of them by their arm ; 2 philosophers, as far as they can check them by reason and wisdom. Reason, then, requires that nothing be done insidiously, nothing dissemblingly, nothing falsely. Is it not then an ensnaring to lay a net, even though you should not beat up the game, nor hunt them to it ? For the wild creatures often fall into it of themselves, no one pur suing them. So is it fit you should set up your house for sale, put up a bill like a net, sell the house because of its defects, and that somebody should rush into it unwittingly ?

chant withheld did not relate to that corn, but was completely extrinsic. Though he might be bound to satisfy the buyer's inquiry by giving a true account of that corn, he was not bound to furnish, unasked, an account of all other corn. Had he stated his corn to be merchantable, and of a given weight, and the buyer had found the corn on delivery to be of less weight and full of weevils, then the comparison would have been more just with a house, which, as the proprietor knew, must be reduced in height, and which he sold, concealing that important circumstance."

1 A property was said in law, " servire alicui," when some third per son had a right of way, or some other such right over it.

2 The duty of the laws is to punish fraud in such overt cases as it can lay hold of. The duty of philosophy is to expose by argument the turpi tude of fraud, even in those cases which, from their subtilty, or from the corruptness of morals, escape the hand of the law, since " reticentiae jure civili omnes comprehend! non possunt."

Though I see that this, on account of the corruption of man ners, is neither esteemed base in morals, nor forbidden either by statutable enactments or by civil law ; yet it is forbidden by the law of nature. For there is the social tie between man and man which is of the widest extent, which, though I have often mentioned it, yet needs to be mentioned oftener. There is a closer tie between those who are of the same nation ; a closer still between those who are of the same state. Our ancestors, therefore, were of opinion that the law of nations was one thing, the municipal law a different thing. What ever is civil law, the same is not, for that reason, necessarily the law of nations ; but whatever is the law of nations, the same ought to be civil law. But we possess no solid and express image of true right and its sister justice : we use .merely their shade and faint resemblances. Would that we followed even these, for they are taken from the best pat terns of nature and truth ! For how admirable are those words, " that I be not ensnared and defrauded on account of you and your honesty." What golden words those — "that among honest men there be fair dealing, and without fraud." But who are honest men, and what is fair dealing, is the great question. Quintus Scaevola, indeed, the high priest, used to say that there was the greatest weight in all those decisions in which was added the form " of good faith ;" and he thought the jurisdiction of good faith extended very widely, and that it was concerned in wardships, societies, trusts, commissions, buyings, sellings, hirings, lettings, in which the intercourse of life is comprised ; that in these it is the part of a great judge to determine (especially since there were contrary decisions in most cases) what each ought to be accountable for to each. Wherefore craftiness ought to be put away, and that knavery which would fain seem, indeed, to be prudence, but which is far from it, and differs most widely.1 For prudence consists in the distinguishing of

1 Addison carries out this distinction far more elaborately. " At the same time," he says, " that I think discretion the most useful talent a man can be master of, I look upon cunning to be the accomplishment of little, mean, ungenerous minds. Discretion points out the noblest ends to us, and pursues the most proper and laudable methods of attaining them. Cun ning has only private, selfish aims, and sticks at nothing which may make them succeed. Discretion has large and extended views, and, like a well-formed eye, commands a whole horizon. Cunning is a kind of short-

CHAP. xvn. CICERO'S OFFICES. 143 good and evil — knavery, if all things that are vicious are evil, prefers evil to good.

Nor is it, indeed, in landed property alone that the civil law deduced from ' nature punishes knavery and fraud, but also in the sale of slaves, all fraud of the seller is prevented. For he who ought to be aware of the health, the running away, the thefts of slaves, is accountable by the edict of the ^Ediles ; but the case of heirs is different.1 From which it will be understood, since nature is the fountain of right, that it is according' to nature that no one should act in such a manner, that he should prey on the ignorance of another.2 Nor can there be found in life any greater curse sightedness that discovers the minutest objects which are near at hand, but is not able to discern things at a distance. Discretion, the more it is discovered, gives a greater authority to the person who possesses it. Cunning, when it is once detected, loses its force, and makes a man in capable of bringing about even those events which he might have done had he passed only for a plain man. Discretion is the perfection of reason, and a guide to us in all the duties of life ; cunning is a kind of in stinct that only looks out after our immediate interest and welfare. Dis cretion is only found in men of strong sense and good understanding ; cunning is often to be met with in brutes themselves, and in persons who are but the fewest removes from them. In short, cunning is only the mimic of discretion, and may pass upon mean men in the same manner as vivacity is often mistaken for wit, and gravity for wisdom." — Spec tator, No. 225.

1 Because an heir, having only just come into possession of the proper ty, consisting of slaves, might fairly be considered ignorant of their evil qualities.

2 We have here a singular proof of the facility with which men, even when analyzing the nicest moral obligations, may be insensible to the grossest violations of moral fitness involved in the social institutions amid which they have been educated. In connectioi>with this nice casuistry touching the sale of a slave, it is curious to peruse the following descrip tion of the state of things which existed at the very time when Cicero penned his treatise :

" The custom of exposing old, useless, or sick slaves in an island of the Tyber, there to starve, seems to have been pretty common in Rome; and whoever recovered, after having been so exposed, had his liberty given him by an edict of the Emperor Claudius ; in which it was likewise forbidden to kill any slave merely for old age or sickness. But suppos ing that this edict was strictly obeyed, would it better the domestic treatment of slaves, or render their lives much more comfortable ? "We may imagine what others would practice, when it was the professed maxim of the elder Cato to sell his superannuated slaves for any price, rather than maintain what he esteemed a useless burden.

" The ergastula, or dungeons where slaves in chains were forced to than the pretense of wisdom in knavery ; from which those in numerable cases proceed, where the useful seems to be opposed to the virtuous. For how few will be found who, when prom ised perfect secrecy and impunity, can abstain from injustice ?

XVIII. Let us test the principle, if you please, in those ex amples in which, indeed, the mass of mankind do not think per haps that there is any crime. For it is not necessary in this place to treat of assassins, poisoners, will-forgers, robbers, embezzlers, who are to be kept down, not by means of words and the disputation of philosophers, but by chains and a dungeon. But let us consider these acts, which they who are esteemed honest men commit. Some persons brought from Greece to Rome a forged will of Lucius Minucius Basilus, a rich man. That they might the more easily obtain their object, they put down as legatees along with themselves, Marcus Crassus and Quinlus Hortensius, the most powerful men of that day ; who, though they suspected that it was a forgery, but were conscious of no crime in themselves, did work, were very common all over Italy. Columella advises that they be always built under ground, and recommends it as the duty of a careful overseer to call over every day the names of the slaves, like the muster ing of a regiment or ship's company, in order to know presently when any of them had deserted ; a proof of the frequency of these ergastula and of the great number of slaves usually confined in them.

" A chained slave for a porter was usual in Rome, as appears from Ovid and other authors. Had not these people shaken off all sense of com passion toward that unhappy part of their species, would they have presented their friends, at the first entrance, with such an image of the severity of the master and misery of the slave ? Nothing so common in all trials, even of civil causes, as to call for the evidence of slaves ; which was always extorted by the most exquisite torment. Demosthenes says that where it was possible to produce, for the same fact, either freemen or slaves, as witnesses, the judges always preferred the torturing of slaves as a more certain evidence.

" Seneca draws a picture of that disorderly luxury which changes day into night, and night into day, and inverts every stated hour of every office in life. Among other circumstances, such as displacing the meals and times of bathing, he mentions, that regularly, about the third hour of the night, the neighbors of one who indulges this false refinement, hear the noise of whips and lashes ; and, upon inquiry, find that he is then taking an account of the conduct of his servants, and giving them due correction and discipline.

" This is not remarked as an instance of cruelty, but only of disorder, which even in actions the most usual and methodical changes the fixed hours that an established custom had assigned for them." — Hume's Es says, Part ii. Essay 11.

CHAP. xix. CICERO'S OFFICES. 145 not reject the paltry gift of other men's villainy. What then ? Was this enough, that they should not be thought to have been culpable ? To me, indeed, it seems otherwise ; though I loved one of them when living, and do not hate the other, now that he is dead. But when Basilus had willed that Marcus Satrius, his sister's son, should bear his name, and had made him his heir (I am speaking of him who was patron of the Picene and Sabine districts ; oh ! foul stigma upon those times!1) was it fair that those noble citizens should have the property, and that nothing but the name should come down to Satrius ? For if he who does not keep off an injury, nor repel it if he can from another, acts unjustly, as I asserted in the first book, what is to be thought of him who not only does not repel, but even assists in the injury? To me, indeed, even true legacies do not seem honorable, if they are acquired by deceitful fawning — not by the reality, but by the semblance of kind offices. But in such matters the profitable is sometimes accustomed to be thought one thing, and the honest another thing. Falsely ; for the rule about profit is the same as that which obtains respecting honesty. To him who will not thoroughly perceive this, no fraud, no villainy will be wanting ; for, considering thus, " that, indeed, is honest, but this is expedient," he will dare erroneously to separate things united by nature — which is the fountain of all frauds, malpractices, and crimes.

XIX. If a good man, then, should have this power, that by snapping his fingers his name could creep by stealth into the wills of the wealthy, he would not use this power, not even if he had it for certain that no one at all would ever suspect it. But should you give this power to Mascus Orassus, that by the snapping of his fingers he could be in scribed heir, when he really was not heir; believe me, he would have danced in the forum. But the just man, and he whom we deem a good man, would take nothing from any man in order to transfer it wrongfully to himself. Let him who is surprised at this confess that he is ignorant of what

1 Marcus Satrius, having taken his uncle's name, Lucius Minucius Basilus, was chosen as patron by those districts — he was a partisan of Caesar in the civil war. In the eyes of Cicero it was, of course, a foul stain upon the times that a friend of Caesar should be chosen as patron, especially since, as he insinuates in the 2d Phillippic, it was through fear, not love, ho was selected for that honor.

146 CICEEO'S OFFICES. BOOK IIL constitutes a good man. But if any one would be willing to develop the idea involved in his own mind,1 he would at once convince himself that a good man is he who serves whom he can, and injures none except when provoked by injury. What then? Does he hurt none, who, as if by some enchantment,' accomplishes the exclusion of the true heirs, and the substitution of himself in their place ? Should he not do, then, somebody will say, what is useful, what is expedient \ Yes, but he should understand that nothing is either expedient or useful which is unjust. He who has not learned this, can not be a good man.

When a boy, I learned from my father that Fimbria, the consular,2 was judge in the case of Marcus Lutatius Pinthia, Roman knight, a truly honest man, when he had given security,3 (which he was to forfeit) " unless he was a good man;" and that Fimbria thereupon told him that he never would decide that matter, lest he should either de prive a worthy man of his character, if he decided against him, or should be seen to have established that any one was a good man, when this matter was comprised in in numerable duties and praiseworthy actions. To this good man, then, whom even Fimbria, not Socrates alone had

1 The commentator, from whom I have already quoted, gives the fol lowing explanation of this passage. From the Platonic school Cicero seems to have imbibed a persuasion, not merely that ideas are innate, but that they were acquired during a pre-existent state of the mind or soul. "Habet primum (se animus hominis) memoriam et earn infinitam, rerum innumerabilium quam quidem Plato recordationem esse vult superioris vitjE. Ex quo effici vult Socrates, ut discere nihil aliud sit quam recordari. Nee vero fieri ullo modo posse ut a pueris tot rerum atque tantarum insitas, et quasi consignatas in animis, notiones, quas £vvoia<; vocant, haberemus, nisi animus, antequam in corpus intrasset, in rerum cognitione viquisset." Tull. Q. I. 24. He states also, Tull. Q. IV. c. 24., " Notionem quam habemus omnes de fortitudine, tactam et involutam." In tho present passage he appears to speak in the same tone, of developing tho notion we have, though indistinctly, in our minds of perfection of moral character.

2 So called to distinguish him from Caius Fimbria, who having by his intrigues occasioned the death of Lucius Flaccus, the proconsul of Asia (eighty-five years B.C.), was subsequently conquered by Sylla, and termin ated his career by suicide.

3 The "sponsio" was a sum deposited in court, or promised with the usual formula — ni veram causam haberet. If the party who thus gave security was defeated, the money was forfeited to the treasury.

CHAP. xx. CICERO'S OFFICES. 147 known, any thing which is not morally right can by no means seem to be expedient. Such a man, then, not only will not venture to do, but not even to think, what he would not venture openly to proclaim. Is it hdt disgraceful that philosophers should hesitate about this, which not even rustics doubt — from whom is derived this proverb, which has now become trite through antiquity ; for when they commend the integrity and worthiness of any person, they say " he is one with whom you might play odd and even in the dark."1 What meaning has this proverb but this, that nothing is ex pedient which is not morally right, even though you could obtain it without any body proving you guilty. Do you not see *that, according to that proverb, no excuse can be offered either to the aforesaid Gyges, nor to this man whom I have just now supposed able to sweep to himself the inheritances of all by a snap of the ringers ? For as, how much soever that which is base may be concealed, vet ' it can by no means become morally right (honestum), so it can not be made out that whatever is morally wrong can be expedient, since nature is adverse and repugnant.

XX. But when the prizes are very great, there is a tempta tion to do wrong. When Caius Marius was far from the hope of the consulship, and was now in the seventh year of his torpor, after obtaining the prsetorship, and did not seem likely ever to stand for the consulship, he accused Quintus Metellus, a very eminent man and citizen, whose lieutenant he was, be fore the Roman people of a charge that he was protracting the war, when he had been sent to Rome by him — his own com mander ; — stating that if they would make himself consul, that he would in a short time deliver Jugurtha, either alive <5r dead, into the power of the Roman people. Upon this he was indeed made consul, but he deviated from good faith and justice, since, by a false charge, he brought obloquy upon a most excellent and respectable citizen, whose lieutenant he was, and by whom he had been sent. Even my relative Gratidianus did not discharge the duty of a good man at the time when he was

1 This play, retained among modern Italians under the name of La Mora, is thus played : — A and B are the players ; A suddenly raises, we will suppose, three fingers, and B two ; A at a guess, cries, six ; B, five. B, having named the number, wins. Parties, to play it in the dark, must have reliance on each other's word ; hence the proverb.

praetor, and the tribunes of the people had called in the college of the praetors, in order that the matter of the coinage might be settled by a joint resolution. For at that period the coinage was in a state of uncertainty, so that no man could know how much he was worth. They drew up in common an edict, with a fine and conviction annexed, and agreed that they should all go up together to the rostra, in the afternoon. And while the rest of them, indeed, went off each a different way, Marius, from the judgment seats, went straight to the rostra, and singly published that which had been arranged in common. And this proceeding, if you inquire into the result, brought him great honor. In every street statues of him were erected, and at these incense and tapers were burned. What need of many words ? No man ever became a greater favorite with the multitude. These are the things which sometimes perplex our deliberations, when that in which equity is violated seems not • a very great crime, but that which is procured by it appears a very great advan tage. Thus to *Marius it seemed not a very base act- to snatch away the popular favor from his colleagues and the tribunes of the people, but it' appeared a very expedient thing by means of that act to become consul, which at that time he had proposed to himself. But there is for all, the one rule which I wish to be- thoroughly known to you ; either let not that which seems expedient be base, or if it be base let it not seem expedient. What then ? Can we judge either the former Marius or the latter,1 a good man ? Unfold and examine your understanding, that you may see what in it is the idea, form, and notion of a good man. Does it then fall under the notion of a good man to lie for the sake of his own advantage, to make false charges, to overreach, to deceive ? Nothing, indeed, less so. Is there, then, any thing of such value, or any advantage so desirable, that for it you would forfeit the splendor and name of a good man ? What is there which that expediency, as it is called, can bring, so valuable as that which it takes away, if it deprive you of the name of a good man, if it rob you of your integrity and justice? Now, what difference does it make, whether from a man one transform himself into a beast, or under the form of a man, bear the savage nature of a beast ?

1 Namely, Marcus Marius Gratidianus.

CHAP. xxi. CICERO'S OFFICES. 149

XXI. "What ? Are not they who disregard all things up right and virtuous, provided they can attain power, doing the same as he 1 who was willing to have even for his fatherin-law, that man2 by whose audacity he might himself be come as powerful ? It seemed expedient to him to become as powerful as possible by the unpopularity of the other. He did not see how unjust that was toward his country, and how base and how useless. But the father-in-law himself always had in his mouth the Greek verses from the Phoenissse,3 which I will translate as well as I can — inelegantly, perhaps, yet so that the meaning can be understood : — " For if justice ought ever to be violated, it is to be violated for the sake of ruling ; in other cases cherish the love of country."

Eteocles, or rather Euripides, deserved death for making an exception of that one crime, which is the most accursed of all. Why, then, do we repress petty villainies, or fraud ulent inheritances, trades, and sales ? Here is a man for you, who aspired to be king of the Roman people, and master of all nations, and accomplished it — if any one says this desire is an honest one, he is a madman.4 For he ap-

1 Pompey.

8 Caesar, whose daughter Julia was sought and obtained in marriage "by Pompey, who being, from his great power, suspected of ambitious designs by the people, with whom Caesar was a favorite, wished by the alliance to bring a share of the suspicion under which himself labored upon his rival, and thus to diminish his popularity. 3 Wnrcp yap ddiKEtv xPVi rvpavvidoc Kept Ktt/l/Udrov ddiKeiv T' aA/La 6' evoefielv xpeuv.

4 " "Wo may, indeed, agree, by a sacrifice of truth, to call that purple which we see to be yellow, as we may agree by a still more profligate sacrifice of every noble feeling, to offer to tyranny the homage of our adulation ; to say to the murderer of Thrasea Paetus, ' Thou hast done well;' to the parricide who murdered Agrippina, 'Thou hast done more than well.' As every new victim falls, we may lift our voice in still louder flattery. "We may fall at the proud feet, we may beg, as a boon, the honor of kissing that bloody hand which has been lifted against the helpless ; we may do more ; we may bring the altar, and the sacrifice, and implore the god not to ascend too soon to heaven. This we may do, for this we have the sad remembrance that beings of a human form and soul have done. But this is all we can do. We can constrain our tongues to be false, our features to bend themselves to the semblance of that passionate adoration which we wish to express ; our knees to fall prostrate ; but our heart we can not constrain. There virtue must still have a voice which is not to be drowned by hymns and acclamations ; there the crimes which we laud as virtues, are Crimea still; and he proves of the murder of our laws and liberty ; the foul and abominable oppression of these he thinks glorious. But by what reproof, or rather by what reproach, should I attempt to tear away from so great an error the man who admits that to usurp kingly power in that state which was free, and which ought to be so, is not a virtuous act, but is expedient for him who can accomplish it ? For, immortal gods ! can the most foul and horrible parricide of his country be expedient for any man, though he who shall have brought upon himself that guilt be named by the oppressed citizens a parent ?

Expediency, then, should be guided by virtue, and in deed so that these two may seem to differ from each other in name, but to signify the same in reality. In vulgar opinion I know not what advantage can be greater than that of sov ereign sway, but, on the contrary, when I begin to recall rny reason to the truth, I find nothing more disadvantageous to him who shall have attained it unjustly. Can torments, cares, daily and nightly fears, a life full of snares and perils, be ex pedient for any man I1 — " The enemies and traitors to sove reignty are many, its friends few," says Accius. But to what sovereignty ? That which was justly obtained, having been transmitted by descent from Tantalus and Pelops ? Now, whom we have made a god is the most contemptible of mankind ; if} in deed, we do not feel, perhaps, that we are ourselves still more contempt ible." — Brown's " Moral Philosophy," Lecture Ixxviii.

1 " Do we think that God has reserved all punishment for another world, and that wickedness has no feelings but those of triumph in the years of earthly sway which consummate its atrocities ? There are hours in which the tyrant is not seen, the very remembrance of which, in the hours in which he is seen, darkens to his gloomy gaze that pomp which is splendor to every eye but his ; and that even on earth, avenge with awful retribution, the wrongs of the virtuous. The victim of his jealous dread, who, with a frame wasted by disease and almost about to release his spirit to a liberty that is immortal, is slumbering and dreaming of heaven on the straw that scarcely covers the damp earth of his dungeon • — if he could know at that very hour what thoughts are present to the conscience of him who doomed him to this sepulcher, and who is lying sleepless on his bed of state, though for a moment the knowledge of the vengeance might be gratifying, would almost shrink the very moment after from the contemplation of honor so hopeless, and wish that the vengeance were less severe. ' Think not,' says Cicero, ' that guilt requires the burning torches of the Furies to agitate and torment it. Their own frauds, their crimes, their remembrances of the past, their terrors of the future, those are the domestic Furies that are ever present to the mind of the impious.' " — Dr. Brown's "Moral Philosophy," Lecture Ixiv.

CHAP. xxii. CICERO'S OFFICES. 151 how many more do you think are enemies to that king, who with the military force of the Roman people crushed that very Roman people, and compelled a state that was not only free, but also the ruler of the nations, to be slaves to him ? What stains, what stings of conscience do you conceive that man to have upon his soul ? Moreover, could his life be a beneficial one to himself, when the condition of that life was this, that he who deprived him of it would be held in the high est esteem and glory ? But if these things be not useful, which seem so in the highest degree, because they are full of disgrace and turpitude, we ought to be quite convinced that there is nothing expedient which is not virtuous.

XXII. But this indeed was decided, as well on other oc casions frequently, as by Caius Fabricius, in his second con sulship, and by our senate in the war with Pyrrhus. For when king Pyrrhus had made aggressive war upon the Roman people, and when the contest was maintained for empire with a generous and potent monarch, a deserter from him came into the camp of Fabricius, and promised him, if he would propose a reward for him, that as he had come secretly, so he would return secretly into the camp of Pyrrhus, and dispatch him with poison. Fabricius took care that this man should be sent back in custody to Pyrrhus, and this conduct of his was applauded by the senate. And yet if we pursue the appearance and notion of advantage, one deserter would have rid us of that great war, and of that formidable adversary ; but it would have been a great dis grace and scandal, that he, with whom the contest was for glory, had been conquered, not by valor, but by villainy. Whether was it then more expedient, for Fabricius, who was sugh a person in our state as Aristides was at Athens, or for our senate, which never separated expedi ency from dignity, to fight against an enemy with arms or with poison ? If empire is to be sought for the sake of glory, away with guilt in which there can not be glory ; but if power itself is to be sought by any^ means what ever, it can not be expedient when allied to infamy. That proposition, therefore, of Lucius Philippus, the son of Quintus, was not expedient that those states, which, by a decree of the senate, Lucius Sylla, on receiving a sum of money, had made free, should again be subject to tribute, and that we should not return the money which they had given for their freedom. To this the senate agreed. Disgrace to the em pire ! For the faith of pirates is better than was the senate's. But our revenues have been increased by it — therefore it was expedient. How long will people venture to say that any thing is expedient which is not virtuous ? Now, can odium and infamy be useful to any empire which ought to be supported by glory and the good-will of its allies? I often disagreed in opinion even with my friend Cato. For he seemed to me too rigidly to defend the treasury and tributes ; to deny all concessions to the farmers of the revenue ; and many to our allies, when we ought to have been munificent toward the latter, and to have treated the former as we were accustomed to do our colonists, and so much the more, because such a harmony between the orders1 conduced to the safety of the republic. Curio was also in error when he admitted that the cause of the Transpadani was just, but always added, " let expediency prevail." He should rather have said that it was not just, because not expedient, for the republic, than to say it was not expedient, when he confessed that it was just. - XXm. The 6th book of Hecaton, " De Officiis," is full of such questions — whether it be the part of a good man, in an exceedingly great scarcity of provisions, not to feed his slaves ; he argues on either side, but still in the end he guides our duty rather by utility than humanity. He inquires, if goods must needs be thrown into the sea in a storm, whether ought one to throw overboard a valuable horse or a worthless slave. Here pecuniary interest would incline us one way, humanity another. If a fool should snatch a plank from a wreck, shall a wise man wrest it from him if he is able ? He says no, because it is an injustice. What will the master of the ship do ? Will he seize the plank as his own ? By no means — no more than he would be willing to toss into the sea one sailing in his ship, because it is his own. For until they are come to the place to which the vessel was chartered, the vessel is not the property of the master, but

1 The equestrian order, who were the farmers of the revenue, and the senators, who exacted too rigidly the full amount of the contracts, not withstanding any event that might render the taxes less valuable to the farmers. This disgusted the knights with the senate, and threw them into the arms of Caesar, who procured for them a remission of part of their liabilities.

CHAP. xxnL CICERO'S OFFICES. 153 of the passengers. What, if there be only one plank, two shipwrecked men, and both wise ? Should neither seize it, or one yield to the other1? One, indeed, should yield to the other, namely, to him whose life was of more consequence either for his own sake or that of the commonwealth. But if these considerations be equal in both cases? There will be no dispute ; but one, conquered, as it were, by lot, or by playing at odd or even, should yield to the other. What, if a father should rob temples, or carry a subterraneous passage into the treasury ; should his son inform of it to the magistrates ? To do that indeed would be impiety. Nay, he ought even to defend his father if he were accused of it.1 Is

1 The most noted opponent of this crude and indefensible dogma, which would set up a claim on the score of personal relationship paramount to all the claims of justice, has been answered, as we have already seen, by two ethical philosophers of no mean reputation, Jonathan Edwards, in his " Essay on the Nature of True Virtue," and William Godwin, in his " Inquiry concerning Political Justice." It is the latter who has carried these principles to the greatest extent. Indeed, he appears so far to equalize the relative obligations of mankind as to make gratitude an injustice, and to destroy all peculiarity of claims arising from the closest relationship. Perhaps, however, it is safe to affirm that he has not erred so widely on the one side, as Cicero in the above sentence has erred on the other. The following passage contains the strongest statement of Godwin's views on this point : —

" "What magic is there in the pronoun ' my' that should justify us in overturning the decisions of impartial truth ? My brother, or my father, may be a fool, or a profligate, malicious, lying, or dishonest. If they be, of what consequence is it that they are mine ? 'But through my father I am indebted for existence, he supported me in the helplessness of in fancy.' When he first subjected himself to the necessity of these cares, he was probably influenced by no particular motives of benevolence to his future offspring. Every voluntary benefit, however, entitles the bestower to some kindness and retribution. Why ? because a voluntary benefit is an evidence of benevolent intention, that is, in a certain degree of virtue. It is the disposition of the mind, not the external action sepa rately taken, that entitles to respect. But the merit of this disposition is equal, whether the benefit 1 e bestowed upon me or upon another. I and another man can not both be light in preferring our respective bene factors, for my benefactor can not be at the same time both better and worse than his neighbor. My benefactor ought to be esteemed, not be cause he bestowed a benefit upon me, but because he bestowed it upon a human being. His desert will be in exact proportion to the degree in which that human being was worthy of the distinction preferred.

"Thus every view of the ..subject brings us back to the consideration of my neighbor's moral worth, and his importance to the general weal, as the only standard to determine the treatment to which he is entitled.

not our country then paramount to all duties ? Yes, indeed, but it is advantageous to our country itself to have its citizens affection ate toward their parents, What, if a father should endeavor to usurp tyrannic power, or to betray his country ? Shall the son be silent ? Nay, but he should implore his father not to do it. If he prevail not, he should reproach — he should even threaten. If at last the matter should tend to the ruin of his country, he should prefer the safety of his country to that of his father.

He also asks, if a wise man should receive base money unawares for good, shall he, when he shall have come to know it, pay it instead of good, if he owes money to any person ? Diogenes affirms this ; Antipater denies it — and with him I rather agree. Ought he who knowingly sells wine that will not keep, to acquaint the buyer ? Diogenes thinks it unnecessary ; Antipater thinks it the characteristic of an honest man. These are, as it were, the controverted laws of the Stoics. In selling a slave, are his faults to be told — not those which, unless you tell, the slave would be returned by the civil law ; but these, that he is a liar, a gambler, a pilferer, a drunkard ? These things to the one seem necessary to be told ; to the other not. If any person selling gold should suppose he was selling brass, should an honest man acquaint him that it was gold, or should he buy for a denarius what was worth a thousand de- Gratitude, therefore, if by gratitude we understand a sentiment of prefer ence which I entertain toward another, upon the ground of my having been the subject of his benefits, is no part either of justice or virtue.

" It may be objected, ' that my relation, my companion, or my bene factor, will of course in many instances obtain an uncommon portion of my regard : for not being universally capable of discriminating the com parative worth of different men, I shall inevitably judge most favorably of him of whose virtues I have received the most unquestionable proofs ; and thus shall be compelled to prefer the man of moral worth whom I know, to another who may possess, unknown to me, an essential superi ority.'

" Thia compulsion, however, is founded in the imperfection of human nature. It may serve as an apology for my error, but can never change error into truth. It will always remain contrary to the strict and uni versal decisions of justice. The difficulty of conceiving this, is owing merely to our confounding the disposition from which an action is chosen with the action itself. The disposition, that would prefer virtue to vice, and a greater degree of virtue to a less, is undoubtedly a subject of ap probation ; the erroneous exercise of this disposition, by which a wrong object is selected, if unavoidable, is to be deplored, but can by no color ing, and under no denomination, be converted into right." — Godwin's "Political Justice," voL i. book ii. chap. ii.

CHAP. xxiv. CICERO'S OFFICES. 155 narii ? It is plain now, both what is my view, and what is the controversy between those philosophers whom I have mentioned. XXIV. Are compacts and promises always to be kept,1 which are made neither by means of force, nor with crimin al intent (as the praetors are accustomed to say) ? If any one should give some person a cure for the dropsy, and should covenant with him that he should never afterward use that cure — if by that cure he became well, and in some years afterward fell into the same disease, and could not obtain from him with whom he had covenanted, leave to use it again — what ought to be done ? Since he is an in human fellow, who would not give him leave, and no in jury would be done to that person by using it, he ought to consult for his life and health. What ? If a wise man, being required, by one who would make him his heir, when he would be left by him a large fortune in his will, that be fore he entered upon the inheritance he should dance openly by daylight in the forum — should promise him that he would do it, because otherwise he would not have made him his heir; should he do what he promised, or not? I

1 Promises are not binding1 if performance is unlawful. Sometimes men promise to commit a wicked act, even to assassination ; but a man is not required to commit murder because he has promised to commit it. Thus, in the Christian scriptures, the son who has said, "I will not work" in the vineyard, and "afterward repented and went," is spoken of with approbation, his promise was not binding, because fulfillment would have been wrong. Cranmer, whose religious firmness was overcome in the prospect of the stake, recanted; that is, he promised to abandon the Protestant faith. Neither was his promise binding ; to have regarded it would have been a crime. The offense both of Cranmer and of the son in the parable, consisted not in violating their promises but in making them. Respecting the often discussed question, whether extorted prom ises are binding, there has been, I suspect, a general want of advertence to one important point — what is an extorted promise ? If by an extort ed promise is meant a promise that is made involuntarily, without the concurrence of the will ; if it is the effect of any ungovernable impulse, and made without the consciousness of the party, then it is not a promise. This may happen. Fear or agitation may be so great that a person really does not know what he says or does, and in such a case a man's promi ses do not bind him any more than the promises of a man in a fit of in sanity. But if by an " extorted" promise it is only meant that very powerful inducements were held out to making it, inducements, how ever, which did not take away the power of choice — then these promises are in strictness voluntary, and like all other voluntary engagements they ought to be fulfilled. — Dymond's "Principles of Morality," chap. 6.

156 CICEEO'S OFFICES. BOOK in.

would wish that he had not promised, and I think that this would have been the part suitable to his dignity. Since he has promised, if he considers it disgraceful to dance in the forum, he will with greater propriety break his word, provided he should not take any thing out of the inheritance, than if he did so ; unless, perhaps, he will contribute that money to some great occasion of the state — so that it would not be disgraceful even to dance, since he was about to con sult for the interests of his country.1

XXV. But even those promises ought not to be kept, which are hurtful to those very persons to whom you have made them.

To revert to fictitious tales, Sol promised to Phaeton, his son, to do whatever he would desire. He desired to be taken up in his father's chariot. He was taken up. But before he was well settled, he was burned with the stroke of lightning. How much better would it have been in this case, that the promise of the father had not been kept ? Why should I mention the promise which Theseus exacted from Neptune, to whom when Neptune gave three wishes he wished for the death of his son Hippolytus, when he was suspected by his father concerning his step-mother; by ob taining which promise, Theseus was involved in the greatest affliction ? Why, that Agamemnon, when he had vowed to Diana the loveliest thing that should be born that year in his kingdom, sacrificed Iphigenia, than whom, indeed, nothing lovelier was born that year ? Better that the promise should not be performed, than that a horrible crime should be committed. Therefore, promises are sometimes not to be performed, and deposits are not always to be restored. If any man in sound mind should have intrusted a sword to you, and having gone mad, should ask it back, to restore would be a crime ; not to restore, a duty. What, if he who may have deposited money with you, should levy war against his country, ought you to re-

1 The following is Cockman's note upon this passage : " Dancing was esteemed but a scandalous practice, and unbecoming a sober and prudent person among the Romans ; wherefore our author tells us in his oration for Murena (chap. 6), nobody almost dances, unless he be drunk or mad, and calls it omnium vitiorum extremum, a vice that no one would bo guilty of till he had utterly abandoned all virtue ; and umbram luxurice, that which follows riot and debauchery, as the shadow follows the body. The meaning, therefore, of this place is, that Crassus would not stick a(. the basest actions if he could but fill his coifers by them."

CHAP. xxvi. CICERO'S OFFICES. 157 store the deposit ? I think not. For you would be acting against your country, which ought to be most dear to you. So, many things which are right by nature become wrong by occasions. To perform promises, to stand to agreements, to restore deposits, the expediency being altered, become contrary to virtue.

Now, indeed, of those things which seem to be profitable, contrary to justice, but with the semblance of prudence, I think enough has been said. But since in the first book we derived duties from the four sources of virtue, we shall be engaged with those same, while we show that those things which seem to be useful are not so as long as they are hostile to virtue. And indeed of prudence, which craft is apt to imitate, and likewise of justice, which is always expedient, we have already treated. Two parts of virtue remain, of which the one is discerned in the greatness and pre-eminence of an elevated mind; the other in the habit and regulation of continence and temperance.

XXVI. It seemed to Ulysses to be expedient (to act], as the tragic poets, indeed, have represented — for in Homer, the best authority, there is no such suspicion of Ulysses — but the tragedians accused him of wishing to escape from military service by the affectation of insanity. A dishonorable de vice. But it was advantageous, some persons, perhaps, will say, to reign and live at ease in Ithaca, with his parents, with his wife, with his son. They may ask, do you ihink any glory arising from daily toils and perils to be compared with this tranquillity ? I think, indeed, this tranquillity is to be despised and rejected, because I think tranquillity which was not honorable, was not even advantageous. For what reproach do you think Ulysses would have heard if he had per severed in that dissembling, when though he performed the greatest achievements in the war, he yet heard this from Ajax ? —

" Of the oath, of which he was the originator, as you all know, he alone disregarded the obligation. Madness he feigned ; persisted in not joining the army ; and had not the clear-sighted wisdom of Palamedes seen through the knavish audacity of the fellow, he would have forever evaded the obligation of his sacred oath."

It was really better for him to buffet, not only with the foe, but also with the waves, as he did, than to desert Greece, when combining to wage war against the barbarians. But let us leave both fables and foreign scenes — let us come to real history, and that our own. *Marcus Atilius Rcgulus, when in his second consulship taken in Africa by stratagem by Xanthippus, the Lacedaemonian general — but when Hamilcar, the father of Hannibal, was the commander-in-chief — was sent to the senate, bound by an oath, that unless some noble captives were restored to the Carthaginians, he should himself return to Carthage. When he arrived at Rome, he saw the semblance of advantage, but, as the event declares, judged it a fallacious appearance, which was this — to remain in his country, to stay at home with his wife and his chil dren ; and, regarding the calamity which he had experienced as incident to the fortune of war, to retain the rank of con sular dignity. Who can deny these things to be profitable ? Whom do you think ? Greatness of mind and fortitude deny it.

XXVII. Can you require more creditable authorities? For it is characteristic of these virtues to fear nothing, to despise all human concerns, to think nothing that can happen to a man intolerable, i What, then, did he do ? He came into the senate — he disclosed his commission — he refused to declare his own sentiments — he said that as long as he was bound by an oath to the enemy he was not a senator. And this, too (oh, foolish man ! some person will exclaim, an enemy to his own interests!) he denied to be expedient, namely, that the captives should be restored, for that they were young men and good generals, that he himself was already worn out with years. /When his authority had pre vailed, the captives were retained, and he returned to Carthage ; nor did the love of his country or of his family withhold him. Nor was he then ignorant that he was return ing to a most cruel enemy, and to exquisite tortures. But he considered that his oath ought to be. observed. Therefore, at the very time when he was undergoing death by want of sleep, he was in a better condition than if he had remained at home an aged captive, and a perjured consular. But he acted foolishly, since he not only did not advise the sending back the captives, but even spoke against the measure. How foolishly ? What, even if it was advantageous to his country ? Can that now which is inexpedient for our country be expedient for any citizen ?

CHAP. xxix. CICERO'S OFFICES. 159

XXVIII. Men -pervert those things which are the founda tions of nature, when they separate expediency from virtue. For we all desire our own interest — we are carried along to it ; nor~ can we by any means do otherwise. For who is there that shuns his own advantage ? or rather, who is there that does not most eagerly pursue it ? But because we never can find real advantage except in good report, honor, virtue ; therefore we esteem these things first and chief; we consider the name of utility not so much noble as necessary.^ What is there, then, somebody will say, in an oath ? Are we afraid of angry Jove ? But it is a common principle with all philosophers, indeed — not of those only who say that the deity has no labor himself, and imposes none on others — but of those also who are of opinion that the deity is always acting and planning something, that the deity never is angry, nor injurious. But what greater harm could angry Jupiter do to Regulus, than Regulus did to himself? It was, then, no force of religion which prevented so great an advantage. Was it that he might act basely ? In the first place, choose the least among evils. Would, then, this trifling turpitude bring as much evil as that great torture ? In the next place, that saying in Accius — " Hast thou broken faith 1 I neither have plighted nor do plight faith with any of the faithless" — though it is spoken by an impious king, yet is well spoken. They add, also, that just as we say that some acts seem useful which are not; so they say that some acts seem virtuous which are not so ; as for instance, this very act seems virtuous, to return to torture for the sake of observ ing an oath, but it is really not virtuous, because whatever is extorted by the violence of Enemies, ought not to be fulfilled. They add also tlikt whatever is very advantageous becomes virtuous, even though it did not seem so before. These things are usually urged against Regulus. But let us consider the first objection.

XXIX. We need not dread Jupiter, lest in his wrath he might do us harm, who neither is accustomed to be wroth, nor to do harm. This reasoning, indeed, applies not more against Regulus than against every oath ; but in an oath it ought to be considered, not what is the fear, but what is the force. For an oath is a religious affirmation ; but what you solemnly promise, as if the deity were witness, to that you ought to adhere.1 For it pertains now not to the anger of the gods, which exists not, but to justice and fidelity. For well has Ennius said —

" 0 holy Faith, winged, and the very oath of Jove."

He, then, who violates an oath, violates Faith, .which our ancestors, as is recorded in Cato's speech, wished to be in the Capitol, next to Jupiter Greatest and Best. But they argue that even angry Jupiter could not have done more harm to Eegulus than Regulus did to himself. Certainly not, if nothing but pain be an evil. But philosophers of the highest authority assert, not only that it is not the greatest evil, but that it is not an evil at all. I pray you not to despise a witness of theirs, of no slight weight — I know not, indeed, but that he is the weightiest — namely, Regulus. For, whom do we require more creditable than the chief of the Roman people — who, for the sake of adhering to duty, underwent voluntary torture ? But as to what they say, choose the least of evils — that is^baseness rather than calamity — can there be any evil greater than baseness ? And if this implies some thing of disgust in the deformity of person, how much worse should appear the depravity and foulness of a debased mind ? •They,2 therefore, who treat of these subjects more boldly,

1 " An oath is that whereby we call God to witness the truth of what we say ; with a curse upon ourselves, either implied or expressed, should it prove false." — Milton on Christian Doctrine.

While the sacredness of oaths is still held as a principle of morals, the lawfulness of their administration is doubted by many, and their efficacy perhaps by the majority of modern society. The increased security for the veracity of him who takes them, which they are supposed to afford, is in the case of an honest man unnecessary, and of a dishonest man valueless. The argument of Godwin with relation to oaths of duty and office, appears to admit of a universal application ; the same arguments that prove the injustice of tests, may be applied universally to all oaths of duty and office. " If I entered upon the office without an oath, what would be my duty ? Can the oath that is imposed upon me make any alteration in my duty ? if not, does not the very act of imposing it, by implication, assert a falsehood ? "Will this falsehood have no injurious effect upon a majority of the persons concerned ? "What is the true cri terion that I shall faithfully discharge the office that is conferred upon me ? Surely my past life, not any protestations I may be compelled to make. If my life have been unimpeachable, this compulsion is an un merited insult ; if it have been otherwise, it is something worse." — God win's " Political Justice," book vi. chap. v.

2 Cicero here obviously refers to the Stoics who regarded pleasure and

CHAP. xxix. CICERO'S OFFICES. 161 venture to say that that which is base is the only evil ; but they1 who treat of them more timidly, yet do not hesitate to call it the greatest evil. Now, that saying indeed — " I neither have plighted, nor do plight faith with any of the faithless" — was well imagined by the poet, on this account, because when Atreus was being delineated, it was necessary to sus tain the character. But if they take this to themselves, that there is no faith which is plighted to the faithless, let them see to it lest it be sought as a subterfuge for perjury.

There are also rights of war, and the faith of an oath is often to be kept with an enemy. For that, which is so sworn that the mind conceives it ought to be done, that should be observed. What is otherwise, if you perform it not, pain as indifferent. This theory is thus refuted by that most ingenious metaphysician and moralist, Dr. Thomas Browne. " Between mere pleasure and mere virtue there is a competition, in short, of the less with the greater ; but though virtue be the greater, and the greater in every case in which it can be opposed to mere pleasure, pleasure is still good in itself, and would be covetable by the virtuous in every case in which the greater good of virtue is not inconsistent with it. It is, indeed, be cause pleasure and pain are not in themselves absolutely indifferent that man is virtuous in resisting the solicitations of the one and the threats of the other. And there is thus a self-confutation in the principles of stoicism, which it is truly astonishing that the founder of the system, or some one of the ancient and modern commentators on it, should not have discovered. We may praise, indeed, the magnanimity of him who dares to suffer every external evil which men can suffer rather than give his conscience one guilty remembrance ; but it is because there is evil to be endured that we may praise him for his magnanimity in bearing the evil, and if there be no ill to be endured, there is no magnanimity that can be called forth to endure it. The bed of roses differs from the burning bull ; not merely as a square differs from a circle, or as flint differs from clay, but as that which is physically evil ; and if they do not so differ as good and evil, there could be as little merit in consenting when virtue required the sacrifice to suffer all the bodily pain which the instrument of torturo could inflict, rather than to rest in guilty indolence on that luxurious couch of flowers, as there could be in the mere preference for any physi cal purpose of a circular to an angular form, or of the softness of clay to the hardness of flint. Moral excellence is, indeed, in every case, prefer able to mere physical enjoyment : and there is no enjoyment worthy of the choice of man when virtue forbids the desire. But virtue is the superior only, not the sole power; she has imperial sway, but her sway is imperial only because there are forms of inferior good over which it is her glory to preside." — Moral Philosophy, Lect. xcix. i The Peripatetics, involves no perjury. Thus, if you should not pay a price for your life, agreed on with robbers, it is no fraud if you should not perform it, though bound by an oath.1 For a pirate is not comprehended in the number of lawful enemies, but is the common foe of all men. With such a man, neither

1 " Grotius," says an anonymous commentator (de Jure Belli et Pads,

II, 13, § 15), "citing this passage, admits that a person extorting a promise by force, can have no right to demand its performance ; but thinks that an oath accompanying it makes it binding in conscience." Hobbes, de Civ. ii. 16, maintains that a promise, because extorted by fear, is not the less obligatory in cases where the promiser receives from it some benefit. On this it is remarked by Puffendorf, that merely abstain ing from injury can not be reckoned among benefits ; that a highway man, for instance, who does not murder you, can not be called your bene factor. Hobbes's doctrine is, therefore, thus qualified by Puffendorf, pro vided that the promiser can legitimately exact the performance of that promise. To this Barbeyrac, the learned and acute commentator on both Grotius and Puffendorf, fully accedes, and pronounces that every act of violence, every sort of menace, by which the promises, against his will, is induced to make an engagement into which he otherwise would not have entered, deprives him of the liberty necessary to form a valid engagement, and, consequently, annuls all such promises and convocations. He adds, that the performance of an engagement made under such circumstances is injurious to society, as it leads to the encouragement of robbers. Adam Smith has treated this question much at length, Theory of Mor. Sent. vii. 4. "With some exceptions, and guardedly, he leans to the opposite opin ion. Some regard, he thinks, should be paid to promises of this kind, but how much it is not possible to determine by any general rule. If the sum promised was very great, such for example as would ruin by its payment the family of the pa}rer, or sufficient to effect the most useful purposes, it would appear comical, at least extremely improper, to throw it into such worthless hands, but in general it may be said that exact propriety requires the observance of such promises where not inconsist ent with other duties, when violated it is always with some degree of dis honor to the person who made them. It is observable that Paley ap pears to have changed his opinion on the subject of such promises. In the first edition of his valuable work on Moral and Political Philosophy,

III. part 1, 5, he states their obligation to depend on the question wheth er mankind are benefited or not by their observance, concluding that lives are saved by it, he treats such promises as in general binding. But in subsequent editions he observes, that they may be made the instru ment of almost unlimited extortion, and therefore in the question be tween the importance of these opposite consequences resides the doubt concerning the obligation of such promises. The noble-minded Mon taigne remarks on this subject: "Co que la crainte m'a fait une fois vouloir, je suis tenu de la vouloir encore sans crainte ; et quand elle n'aura force que ma langue sans la voloute, encore, suis je tenu de faire la maille bonne de ma parole."

CHAP. xxx. CICERO'S OFFICES. 163 should faith nor an oath be in common. For to swear what is false is not always perjury ; but not to do that which you swear according to the sentiment of your mind, "ex animi tui sententia," as it it expressed in words in our law form, is per jury. For Euripides says well — " With my tongue have I sworn ; I bear an unsworn conscience."

But Regulus was under obligation not to disturb by perjury the conditions and covenants of war and of the enemy ; for the affair was transacted with a just and lawful foe, in regard to whom both the entire Fecial law and many other laws are binding in common. Had not this been so, the senate would never have delivered up eminent men bound to the enemy.

XXX. But Titus Veturius and Spurius Postumius, when they were consuls the second time, were given up to the Samnites because they had made a peace with them, after having fought with ill success at Caudium, when our legions were sent under the yoke ; for they had made it without the command of the people and senate. And at the same time, Titus Numicius, and Quintus MaBlius, who were then tri bunes of the people, because the peace was made by their authority, were given up, that the peace with the Samnites might be rejected. And of this surrender, Postumius himself, who was given up, was the advocate and author. Which same thing Caius Mancinus did, many years after ward, who advocated .that bill which Lucius Furius and Sextus Atilius, by a decree of the senate, brought in, that he himself should be delivered up to the Numantines, with whom he had made a league without the authority of the senate ; which bill being passed by the people, he was given up to the enemy. He acted more worthily than Quintus Pompeius, through whose petitioning against such a measure, when he wras in similar circumstances, the law was not passed. With this man, that which seemed his interest had more weight than virtue had ; in the former instances, the false semblance of expediency was overcome by the authority of virtue. But, say they, that which was extorted by force ought not to be ratified ; as if, indeed, force could be ' used to a man of fortitude. Why, then, you say, did Regulus go to the senate, if he was about to dissuade them concerning the captives? You are reprehending that which was the noblest thing in that transaction; for he did not rely upon his own judgment, but he undertook the cause that there might be a decision of the senate ; by whom, had not he him self been the adviser of the measure, the prisoners, indeed, would have been restored to the Carthaginians. Thus Regulus would have remained in safety in his country; which, because he thought inexpedient for his country, therefore he believed it virtuous in himself, both to think and to suffer these things. Now, as to what they say, that whatever is very useful becomes virtuous, I say, Nay, it is so really, and does not merely become so ; for nothing is expedient which is not likewise virtuous ; and it is not because it is ex pedient that it is virtuous, but because it is virtuous it is expe dient. Wherefore out of many admirable examples, one could not easily mention one either more laudable or more excellent than this.

XXXI. But- out of all this laudable conduct of Regulus, this alone is worthy of admiration, that he was of opinion that the prisoners ought to be retained. For that he re turned seems wonderful to us now, though at that time he could not do otherwise. Therefore, that was not the merit of the man, but of the times. For our ancestors were of opinion that there was no tie closer than an oath to bind our faith. This the laws of the twelve tables indicate — this the leges sacratie1 indicate, this the leagues indicate, by which our faith is pledged even with enemies. The opinions and animadversions of the Censors indicate it, who passed sentence on no subject more strictly than on such as concerned oaths. Marcus Pomponius, tribune of the people, fixed a day for Lucius Manlius, the son of Aulus, when he had been Dictator, to stand his trial, because he had taken to himself a few days in addition for holding the dictator ship. He accused him also because he had banished from intercourse with men, his son Titus, who was afterward called Torquatus, and had commanded him to reside in the country. When the young man, the son, had heard this, that trouble was brought upon his father, he is said -to have hastened to Rome, and to have come with the first dawn to

1 The laws concerning liberty and the tribunitial power, so called, be cause he who violated them was to be held devoted (sacer) to the re sentment of the deity.

CHAP. xxziL CICERO'S OFFICES. 165 the house of Pomponius, who, when it was announced to him, supposing that the son, being enraged, was about to bring to him some accusation against his father, arose from his bed, and, the bystanders having been dismissed, ordered the youth to come to him. But he, when he entered, hastily drew his sword, and swore that he would intantly slay him unless he gave his oath that he would suffer his father to be discharged. Pomponius, forced by fear, swore this ; he subse quently brought the matter before the people, and informed them why it was necessary for him to abandon the prosecution, and then suffered Manlius to be discharged. So much force had an oath in those times. And this is that Titus Manlius who ac quired the surname of Torquatus, at the Anio, for taking the collar from the Gaul, whom he, having been challenged by him, bad slain ; in whose third consulship the Latins were routed and put to flight at the Veseris. A most eminently great man, but though very indulgent to his father, was again cruelly severe to his son.

XXXII. But as Regulus is to be commended for observ ing his oath, so these ten are to be condemned whom Hanni bal, after the battle of Cannae, sent to the senate under an oath that they would return to that camp which the Cartha ginians had got possession of, unless they succeeded about redeeming the prisoners ; if it be true that they did not re turn — about whom, all historians do not relate the story in the same manner. For Polybius, an eminently good author, writes, that out of ten very noble persons who were then sent, nine returned, the request not having been granted by the senate ; that one of the ten, who, a short time after he had gone out of the camp, had returned, as if he had forgotten something, remained at Rome. For, by his return into the camp, he construed it that he was freed from his oath — not rightly, for fraud does but fasten, not absolve perjury. It was, then, silly cunning, perversely imitating prudence. The senate, therefore, decreed, that this double-dealing and artful fellow should be brought fettered to Hannibal. But the greatest act of the senate was this. Hannibal had eight thousand men prisoners ; not those whom he had taken in battle, or who had fled from the peril of death, but who had been left in the camp by the Consuls, Paullus and Varro. The senate decreed that these should not be redeemed, though it might have been done at a small expense, that it might be impressed upon our soldiers that they were either to con quer or die — which circumstance, indeed, having become known, the same author writes that the courage of Hannibal fell, because the Roman senate and people possessed so lofty a spirit in their depressed condition. Thus those things which seem expedient, are overpowered by a comparison with virtue.

But Acilius, who wrote his history in Greek, says that there were more than one who returned into the camp with the same fraudulent design, that they might be freed from their oath, and that they were branded by the censors with every ignominy.

Let this now be the end of this subject. For it is plain that those acts which are done with a timid, humble, abject, and broken spirit (such as would have been the conduct of Regulus, if, respecting the prisoners, he had either advised what seemed to be needful for himself, not what he considered beneficial to the commonwealth, or had desired to remain at home), are inexpedient, because they are scandalous, foul, and base.

XXXIII. The fourth part remains, which is compre hended in propriety, moderation, modesty, continence, temper ance. Can any thing, then, be expedient, which is contrary to this train of such virtues ? However, the Cyrenseans, fol lowers of Aristippus, and the Annicerians, misnamed philo sophers, have made all good consist in pleasure, and have thought virtue to be commended on this account, because it is productive of pleasure ; but, as they are antiquated, Epicurus flourishes, the advocate and author of nearly the same opinion. Against these we must fight with man and horse, as it is said, if it is our intention to defend and retain virtue. For if not only expediency, but all the happiness of life, be contained in a strong bodily constitution, and in the certain hope of that constitution, as it is written by Methrodorus ; certainly this ex pediency, and that the greatest (as they think), will stand in opposition to virtue. For, in the first place, where will room be given for prudence ? Is it that it may seek on all sides after sweets? How miserable the servitude of virtue, when the slave of pleasure ? Moreover, what would be the office of Prudence ? Is it to select pleasures ingeniously ? Admit that nothing could be more delightful than this; what can be

CHAP. TTTTTT. CICERO'S OFFICES. 167 imagined more base? Now, what room can Fortitude, which is the contemning of pain and labor, have in his system, who calls pain the greatest of evils ? For though Epicurus may speak, as he does in many places, with suffi cient fortitude regarding pain ; nevertheless, we are not to regard what he may say, but what it is consistent in him to say, as he would confine good to pleasure, evil to pain ; so if I would listen to him on the subject of continence and tem perance, he says, indeed, many things in many places ; but there is an impedient in the stream,1 as they say. For how can he commend temperance who places the chief good in pleasure ? For temperance is hostile to irregular passions ; but irregular passions are the companions of pleasure. And yet, in these three classes of virtue, they make a shift, in what ever manner they can, not without cleverness. They introduce prudence as the science which supplies pleasures and repels pain. Fortitude, too, they explain in some man ner, when they teach that it is the means of disregarding death, and enduring pain. Even temperance they introduce — not very easily, indeed — but yet in whatever way they can. For they say that the height of pleasure is limited to the absence of pain.2 Justice staggers, or rather falls to the ground, and all those virtues which are discerned in society, and the association of mankind. For neither kind ness, nor liberality, nor courtesy can exist, any more than friendship, if they are not sought for there own sakes, but are referred to pleasure and interest. Let us, therefore, sum up the subject in a few words. For as we have taught that there is no expediency which can be contrary to virtue : so we say that all bodily pleasure is opposed to virtue. On which account I think Callipho and Dinomachus the more deserving of censure, for they thought they would put an end to the controversy if they should couple pleasure with virtue ; as if they should couple a human being with a brute. Virtue does not admit that combination — it spurns, it repels it. Nor can, indeed, the ultimate principle of good and evil, which ought to be simple, be compounded of, and tempered with these most dissimilar ingredients. But about this (for

1 Meaning that the system of Epicurus presents impediments to the flowing of the virtues, like obstructions in a water-course.

2 That is, that the greatest pleasure consists in the absence of pain.

it is an important subject), I have said more in another place. Now to my original proposition. How, then, if ever that which seems expedient is opposed to virtue, the matter is to be decided, has been sufficiently treated of above. But if pleasure be said to have even the semblance of expedi ence, there can be no union of it with virtue. For though we may concede something to pleasure, perhaps it has some thing of a relish, but certainly it has in it nothing of utility. You have a present from your father, my son Marcus; in my opinion, indeed, an important one — but it will be just as you will receive it. Hewever, these three books will de serve to be received by you as guests among the commenta ries of Cratippus. But as, if I myself had gone to Athens (which would indeed have been the case had not my country, with loud voice, called me back from the middle of my jour ney), you would sometimes have listened to me also : so, since my voice has reached you in these volumes, you will bestow upon them as much time as you can ; and you can bestow as much as you wish. But when I shall understand that you take delight in this department of science, then will I converse with you both when present, which will be in a short time, as I expect — and while you will be far away, I will talk with you, though absent. Farewell, then, my Cicero, and be assured that you are indeed very dear to me, but that you will be much more dear if you shall take delight in such memorials and precepts.

ON FRIENDSHIP.

I. QUINTUS Mucius, the augur,1 used to relate many things of Caius Laelius, his father-in-law, from memory, and in a pleasant manner, and did not scruple in every discourse to call him a wise man. Moreover I myself, after assuming the manly toga,2 was introduced by my father to Scsevola, in such a way that, as far as I could and it was permitted me, I never quitted the old man's side. Accordingly, many sagacious discussions of his, and many short and apt sayings, I committed to memory, and desired to become better in formed by his wisdom. When he died, I betook myself to Scsevola the pontiff, who is the only man in our country that I venture to pronounce the most distinguished for talent and for integrity. But of him elsewhere. I now return to the augur. Among many other circumstances, I remember that once being seated at home in his arm-chair (as was his custom), when I was in his company, and a very few of his intimate friends, he fell by chance upon that subject of dis course which at the time was in the mouth of nearly every one : for you of course remember, Atticus, and the more so because you were very intimate with Publius Sulpicius (when he, as tribune of the people,3 was estranged by a

1 Augur is often put for any one who predicted future events. Auspex denoted a person who observed and interpreted omens. Augurium and auspicium are commonly used interchangeably, but they are sometimes distinguished. Auspicium was properly the foretelling of futute events from the inspection of birds ; Augurium from any omen or prodigies whatever. Fifteen augurs constituted the college.

2 The toga prcetexta, a robe bordered with purple, was worn by young people, male and female, and by the superior magistrates. The toga pura, or white gown, was worn by men after the age of about seventeen, and by women after marriage.

3 Tribuni plebis, magistrates created for the maintenance of popular rights, in the year u.c. 261. Their number was originally two, which was raised to five, and afterward to ten. Their office was annual.

deadly hatred from Quiritus Pompey, who was then consul, with whom up to that time he had lived on terms of the closest union and affection), how great was the surprise and even regret of the people. Accordingly, when Scsevola had incidentally mentioned that very subject, he laid before us the discourse of Lselius on Friendship, which had been ad dressed by the latter to himself and to the other son-in-law of Laelius, Caius Fannius, the son of Marcus, a few days after the death of Africanus. The opinions of that disquisition I committed to memory, and in this book I have set them forth according to my own judgment. For I have introduced the individuals as if actually speaking, lest " said I " and " said he" should be .too frequently interposed; and that the dialogue might seem to be held by persons face to face. For when you were frequently urging me to write something on the subject of friendship, it seemed to me a matter worthy as well of the consideration of all as of our intimacy. I have therefore willingly done so, that I might confer a benefit on many in consequence of your request. But as in the Cato Major, which was addressed to you on the subject of old age, I have introduced Cato when an old man conversing, because there seemed no person better adapted to speak of that period of life than he, who had been an old man for so long a time, and in that old age had been pre-eminently prosperous ; so when I had heard from our ancestors that the attachment of Caius La3lius and Publius Scipio was especially worthy of record, the character of Laelius seemed to me a suitable one to deliver these very observations on friendship which Scaevola remembered, to have been spoken by him. Now this description of discourses, resting on the authority of men of old, and of those of high rank, seems, I know not on what principle, to carry with it the greater weight.1 Accordingly,

1 " We continue to think and feel as our ancestors have thought and felt ; so true in innumerable cases is the observation that ' men make up their principles by inheritance, and defend them as they would their estates, because they are born heirs to them.' It has been justly said that it is difficult to regard that as an evil which has been long done, and that there are many great and excellent things which we never think of doing, merely because no one has done them before us. ' The preju dice for antiquity is itself very ancient,' says La Motte; and it is amus ing, at the distance of so many hundred years, to find the same com plaint of undue partiality to the writers of other agea brought forward

CHAP. ii. CICERO ON FRIENDSHIP. m while I am reading my own writing, I am sometimes so much affected as to suppose that it is Cato, and not myself that is speaking. But as then I, an old man, wrote to you, who are an old man, on the subject of old age ; so in this book I myself, a most sincere friend, have written to a friend on the subject of friendship. On that occasion Cato was the speaker, than whom there was no one at that time older or wiser. On this, LaBlius, not only a wise man (for so he has been con sidered), and one pre-eminent in reputation for friendship, speaks on that subject. I would wish you to withdraw your thoughts a little while from me, and fancy that Lrelius him self is speaking. Caius Fannius and Quintus Mucius come to their father-in-law after the death of Africanus. With these the discourse begins. Laelius replies ; and the whole of his dissertation regards friendship, which in reading you will discover for yourself.

II. FANNIUS. Such is the case, dear Laelius, nor was there ever a better or more distinguished man than Africanus. But you ought to consider that the eyes of all are now turned upon you, LaBlius : you alone they both denominate and believe to be wise. This character was lately bestowed on M. Cato : we know that Lucius Atilius, among our fathers, was entitled a wise man; but each on a different and pev culiar account : Atilius, because he was considered versed in the civil law ; Cato, because he had experience in a variety of subjects; both in the senate and in the forum many in stances are recorded either of his shrewd forethought, or persevering action, or pointed reply: wherefore he already had, as it were, the surname of wise in his old age. While of you it is remarked that you are wise in a different sense, not only by nature and character, but further, by application and learning; and not as the vulgar, but as the learned designate a wise man, such as was none in all Greece. For as to those who are called the seven wise men, persons who inquire into such things with great nicety do not consider them in the class of wise men. We learn that at Athens there was one peculiarly so, and that he was even pronounced against their cotemporaries by those authors whom we are now dis posed to consider as too highly estimated by our own cotemporaries on that very account." — Dr. Brown's Lectures on the Philosophy of the Mind, lecture xliv by the oracle of Apollo the wisest of men.1 This is the kind of wisdom they conceive to be in you, that you consider every thing connected with you to rest upon yourself, and consider the events of life as subordinate to virtue :2 therefore they inquire of me (I believe of you also, Scsevola) in what manner you bear the death of Africanus. And the rather so, because on the last nones, when we had come into the gardens of Decius Brutus the augur, for the purpose of dis cussion, as our practice is, you were not present ; although you were accustomed most punctually to observe that day and that engagement.

SCSEVOLA. It is true, many are inquiring, Caius Lselius, as has been asserted by Fannius. But for my part I answer them according to what I have remarked, that you bear with patience the grief which you have suffered, by the death of one who was at once a very distinguished man, and a very dear friend ; yet that you could not forbear being distressed, nor would that have been consistent with your feelings as a man. And with regard to your not having attended last nones at our assembly, ill health was the cause, and not affliction.

LJELIUS. You certainly said what was right, Scsevola, and agreeable to truth : for neither ought I to have absented my self through any inconvenience of mine from that duty which I have always fulfilled when I was well ; nor by any chance do I conceive it can happen to a man of firmness of character, that any interruption should take place in his duty. And as for you, Fannius, who say there is attributed to me so much merit, as I am neither conscious of nor lay claim to, you act therein like a friend : but, as it seems to me, you do not form a right estimate of Cato; for either there never has been a wise man, which I rather think, or if there ever was one, he was the man. For (to omit other cases'i consider how

1 Socrates. See Plato's defense of Socrates.

2 " If thou must needs rule, be Zeno's king and enjoy that empire which every man gives himself. He who is thus his own monarch contentedly sways the scepter of himself, not envying the glory of crowned heads and Elohims of the earth. Could the world unite in the practice of that de spised train of virtues which the divine ethics of our Saviour have so in culcated unto us, the furious face of things must disappear ; Eden would be yet to be found, and the angels might look down, not with pity but joy upon us." — Sir Thomas Browne's Christian Morals, chap. xix.

CHAP. in. CICERO ON FRIENDSHIP. 173 he endured the loss of his son ! I remember the instance of Paullus, and witnessed that of Gallus : but theirs was in the case of children ; but Cato's is that of a mature and respected man. Wherefore pause before you prefer to Cato, even him whom Apollo, as you say, pronounced the wisest of men : for the deeds of the one are praised, but only the say ings of the other. Concerning myself, however (for I would now address you both), entertain the following sentiments.

III. Should I say that I am not distressed by the loss of Scipio, philosophers may determine with what propriety I should do so ; but assuredly I should be guilty of falsehood. For I am distressed at being bereaved of such a friend, as no one, I consider, will ever be to me again, and, as I can con fidently assert, no one ever was : but I am not destitute of a remedy. I comfort myself, and especially with this consola tion, that I am free from that error by which most men, on the decease of friends, are wont to be tormented : for I feel that no evil has happened to Scipio ; it has befallen myself, if indeed it has happened to any. Now to be above measure distressed at one's own troubles, is characteristic of the man who loves not his friend, but himself. In truth, as far as he is concerned, who can deny that his end was glorious ? for unless he had chosen to wish for immortality, of which he had not the slightest thought, what did he fail to obtain which it was lawful for a man to wish for ? A man who, as soon as he grew up, by his transcendent merit far surpassed those sanguine hopes of his countrymen which they had con ceived regarding him when a mere boy, who never stood for the consulship, yet was made consul twice ; on the first occasion before his time ; on the second, at the proper age as regarded himself, though for the commonwealth almost too late ; who, by overthrowing two cities,1 most hostile to our empire, put an end, not only to all present, but all future wars. What shall I say of his most engaging manners ; of his dutiful conduct to his mother j his generosity to his sisters ; his kindness to his friends ; his uprightness toward all ? These are known to you : and how dear he was to the state, was displayed by its mourning at his death. How, therefore, could the accession

1 Carthage was destroyed by Scipio, the second Africanus, B.C. 147 ; and Numantia, a town of Spain, B.C. 133. From the latter exploit ho obtained the surname of Numantinus.

of a few years have benefited such a man? For although old age is not burdensome (as I recollect Cato asserted, in con versation with myself and Scipio the year before he died), yet it takes away that freshness which Scipio even yet pos sessed. Wherefore his life was such that nothing could be added to it, either in respect of good fortune or of glory : moreover, the very suddenness of his death took away the consciousness of it. On which kind of death it is difficult to pronounce : what men conjecture, you yourselves know.1 However, this we may assert with truth, that of the many most glorious and joyous days which P. Scipio witnessed in the course of his life, that day was the most glorious when, on the breaking up of the senate, he was escorted home in the evening by the conscript fathers, by the allies of the Roman people, and the Latins, the day before he died ; so that from so high a position of dignity he may seem to have passed to the gods above rather than to those below. Nor do I agree with those who have lately begun to assert this opinion, that the soul also dies simultaneously with the body, and that all things are annihilated by death.2

1 ".Certainly the stoics bestowed too much cost upon death, and by their great preparations made it appear more fearful. Better, saith he, qui finem vitas extremum inter munera ponat nature.' It is as natural to die as to be born, and to a little infant, perhaps, the one is as painful as the other. He that dies in an earnest pursuit is like one that is wounded in hot blood, who for the time scarce feels the hurt ; and there fore a mind fixed and bent upon something that is good doth avert the dolors of death ; but above all believe it the sweetest canticle is, ' nunc dimittis,' when a man hath obtained worth, ends, and expectations. Death hath this also, that it openeth the gate to good fame and extinguisheth envy ; ' extinctus amahitur idem.' " — Lord Bacon, Essay ii.

2 Ever since the time of Cicero the subject of the immortality of the soul has been incessantly discussed ; by some as a conclusion of natural religion, by others as a doctrine of revelation. The following summary of the argument is given by Dugald Stewart in the second part of his Outlines of Moral Philosophy, cap. ii. sec. 1. The reasons he here states without any illustration for believing the doctrine of a future state, are the following:

" 1. The natural desire of immortality, and the anticipations of futurity inspired by hope.

" 2. The natural apprehensions of the mind when under the influence of remorse.

" 3. The exact accommodation of the condition of the lower animals to their instincts and to their sensitive powers, contrasted with the unsuitablenesa of the present state of things to the intellectual faculties of man ;

CHAP. iv. CICERO OX FRIENDSHIP. 175

IV. The authority of the ancients has more weight with me, either that of our own ancestors, who paid such sacred honors to the dead which surely they would not have done if they thought these honors did in no way affect them ; or that of those who once lived in this country, and enlightened, by their institutions and instructions, Magna Gra?cia (which now indeed is entirely destroyed, but then was flourishing); or of him who was pronounced by the oracle of Apollo to be the wisest of men, who did not say first one thing and then another, as is generally done, but always the same ; namely, to his capacities of enjoyment, and to the conceptions of happiness ami, of perfection which he is able to form.

" 4. The foundation which is laid in the principles of our constitution for a progressive and an unlimited improvement.

" 5. The information we are rendered capable of acquiring concerning the more remote parts of the universe ; the unlimited range which is opened to the human imagination through the immensity of space and of time, and the ideas, however imperfect, which philosophy affords us of the existence and attributes'of an overruling mind — acquisitions for which an obvious final cause may be traced on the supposition of a future state, but which if that supposition be rejected, could have no other effect than to make the business of life appear unworthy of our regard.

" 6. The tendency of the infirmities of age, and of the pains of disease to strengthen and confirm our moral habits, and the difficulty of account ing upon the hypothesis of annihilation for those sufferings which com monly put a period to the existence of man.

" 7. The discordance between our moral judgments and feelings and the course of human affairs.

" 8. The analogy of the material world, in some parts of which the most complete and the most systematical order may be traced ; and of which our views always become the more satisfactory the wider our knowledge extends. I* is the supposition of a future state alone that can furnish a key to the present disorders of the moral world ; and with out it many of the most striking phenomena of human life must remain forever inexplicable.

" 9. The inconsistency of supposing that the moral laws which regulate the course of human affairs have no reference to any thing beyond the limits of the present scene ; when all the bodies which compose the vis ible universe appear to be related to each other, as parts of one great physical system.

" Of the different considerations now mentioned, there is not one per haps which, taken singly, would be sufficient to establish the truth they are brought to prove, but taken in conjunction, their force appears irre sistible. They not only all terminate in the same conclusion, but they mutually reflect light on each other ; and they have that sort of con sistency and connection among themselves which could hardly be sup posed to take place among a series of false propositions."

that the souls of men are divine, and that when they have de parted from the body, a return to heaven is opened to them, and the speediest to the most virtuous and just.1 Which same opinion was also held by Scipio ; for he indeed, a very few days before his death, as if he had a presentiment of it, when Philus and Manilius were present, and many others, and you also,

1 So striking is the resemblance between the religious tenets of Cicero and those of modern philosophy, corrected by a divine revelation, that it is difficult to suppose that they should have originated in his own re flections, unaided by any light derived through the medium of tradition or report. The idea contained in this passage we find reproduced, with little modification, in the seventeenth and nineteenth centuries, by a moralist and ethical philosopher, neither of whom was at all likely to derive his opinions on such a subject from the writings of Cicero. By giving the former passage entire, I may perhaps lead the reader to be lieve that Sir Thomas Browne has added nothing to the conceptions of Cicero touching the immortality of the soul but superstition and folly. "I believe," he says, " that the whole frame of a beast doth perish, and is left in the same state after death as before it was materialed into life ; that the souls of men know neither contrary or corruption ; that they subsist beyond the body, and outlive death by the privilege of their proper natures, and without a miracle ; that the souls of the faithful, as they leave earth, take possession of heaven ; that thos 3 apparitions and ghosts of departed persons are not the wandering souls of men, but the unquiet walks of devils, prompting and suggesting us unto mischief, blood and villainy instilling, and stealing into our hearts; that the bless ed spirits are not at rest in their graves, but wander solicitous of the af fairs of the world ; that these phantasms appear often, and do frequent cemeteries, charnel-houses, and churches; it is because these are the dormitories of the dead where the devil, like an insolent champion, be holds with pride the spoils and trophies of his victory in Adam." — Religio Medici, chap, xxxvii.

" "We have," says Dr. Thomas Brown, "therefore to conceive the mind at death matured by experience, and nobler than it was when the Deity permitted it to exist ; and the Deity himself; with all those gracious feel ings of love to man which the adaption of human nature to its human scene displays, and in these very circumstances, if we affirm without any other proof the annihilation of the mind, we are to find a reason for this annihilation. If even we in such a moment, abstracting from all selfish considerations, would feel it a sort of crime to destroy, with no other view than that of the mere destruction what was more worthy of love than in years of earlier being, are we to believe that he who loves what is noble in man more than our frail heart can love it, will regard the im provements only as a signal of destruction ? Is it not more consonant to the goodness of him who has rendered improvement progressive here, that in separating the mind from its bodily frame, he separates it to ad mit it into scenes in which the progress begun on earth may be con tinued with increasing facility."— Lecture xcvi.

CHAP. ir. CICERO ON" FRIENDSHIP. 177

Scaevola, had gone with me, for three days descanted en the subject of government : of which discussion the last was almost entirely on the immortality of souls, which he said lie had learned in sleep through a vision from Afiicanus. If this be the fact, that the spirit of the best man most easily flies away in death, as from the prison-house and chains of the body; whose passage to the gods can we conceive to have been readier than that of Scipio ? Wherefore, to be afflicted at this his departure, I fear, would be the part rather of an envious person than of a friend. But if, on the other hand, this be rather the truth, that the death of the soul and of the body is one and the same, and that no consciousness remains ; as there is no advantage in death, so certainly there is no evil. For when consciousness is lost, it becomes the same as if he had never been born at all ; yet, both we ourselves are glad, and this state, as long as it shall exist, will rejoice that he was born. Wherefore (as I said above) with him indeed all ended well : with myself, less happily ; for it had been more equitable that, as I entered upon life first, I should likewise first depart from it. But yet I so enjoy the recollec tion of our friendship, that I seem to have lived happily be cause I lived with Scipio ; with whom I had a common anxiety on public and private affairs, and with whom my life both at home and abroad was associated, and there existed that, wherein consists the entire strength of friendship, an entire agreement of inclinations, pursuits, and sentiments.1 That character for wisdom, therefore, which Fannius a little while ago mentioned, does not so delight me, especially since it is undeserved, as the hope that the recollection of our friendship will last forever. And it is the more gratifying to me, because scarcely in the history of the world are three or four pairs of friends men tioned by name ; 3 and I indulge in the hope that the friendship of Scipio and Lselius will be known to posterity in this class. — FANNIUS. Indeed, Lselius, that must be so. But since you

1 " The consideration of moral worth will always enter deeply into the motives which actuate wise and good men in their choice of friends ; but it is far from constituting the only one ; a certain congeniality of mind and manners, aided by the operation of adventitious circumstances, con tributes a principal share to ward the formation of such unions." — Robert Hall's Funeral Sermon for Dr. Ryland.

2 Orestes and Pylades, Damon and Pythias, Nisus and Eurvalus, aro the most famous pairs of friends recorded in ancient history.

have made mention of friendship, and as we have leisure, you will do what is very agreeable to me (I hope also to Scaevola), if, as your custom is concerning other matters when your opinion of them is asked, so you would descant on friendship, [telling us] what is your opinion, of what nature you consider it to be, and what direction you would lay down. — SCAEVOLA. To me it will be exceedingly agreeable ; and in fact, when I was endeavoring to prevail with you, Fannius anticipated me : wherefore you will confer a very great favor on both of us.

V. L^ELIUS. I indeed should not object, if I could feel confidence in myself; for not only is the subject a splendid one, but we, as Fannius said, have nothing to do. But who am I ? or what ability is there in me for this ? This is the practice of scholars, and of Grecian scholars, that a subject be given them on which they are to dispute, however suddenly. It is a great undertaking, and requires no little practice. Wherefore, as to what may be said on the subject of friendship, I recommend you to seek it from those who pro fess such things.1 I can only urge you to prefer friendship to all human possessions ; for there is nothing so suited to our nature, so well adapted to prosperity or adversity. But first of all, I am of opinion, that except among the virtuous, friendship can not exist : I do not analyze this principle too closely, as they do who inquire with too great nicety into those things, perhaps with truth on their side, but with little gen eral advantage ; for they maintain that there is no good man but the wise man. Be it so ; yet they define wisdom to be such as no mortal has ever attained to : whereas we ought to contemplate those things which exist in practice and in common life, and not the subjects of fictions or of our own wishes. I would never pretend to say that Caius Fabricius, Marius Curius, and Titus Coruncanius, whom our ancestors esteemed wise, were wise according to the standard of these moralists. AVherefore let them keep to themselves the name of wisdom, both invidious and unintelligible ; and let them allow that these were good men — nay, they will not even do that ; they will declare that this can not be granted except to a wise man. Let us therefore proceed with all our dull genius, as they say. Those who so conduct themselves, and so live

1 The Greek sophists, like the modern Italians, professed to improvise on any given subject. See Plato's Gorgias, Protagoras, etc.

CHAP. v. CICERO ON" FRIENDSHIP. lYg that their honor, their integrity, their justice, and liberality are approved ; so that there is not in them any covetousness, or licentiousness, or boldness ; and that they are of great consistency, as those men whom I have mentioned above ; — let us consider these worthy of the appellation of good men, as they have been accounted such, because they follow (as far as men arc able) nature, which is the best guide of a good life.1 For I seem to myself to have this view, that we are

1 " A person when he speaks of Nature, should know distinctly what he means. The word carries with it a sort of intermediate authority; and he who uses it amiss, may connect that authority with rules and actions which are little entitled to it. There are few senses in which the word is used that do not refer, however obscurely, to God ; and it is for that reason that the notion of authority is connected with the word. ' The very name of Nature implies that it must owe its birth to some prior agent, or, to speak properly, signifies iu itself nothing.' Milton, Christ. Doct. p. 14. Yet, unmeaning as the term is, it is one of which many persons are very fond, whether it be that their notions are really Indistinct, or that some purposes are answered by referring to the obscu rity of Nature rather than to God. ' Nature has decorated the earth with beauty and magnificence,' ' Nature has furnished us with joints and limbs,' are phrases sufficiently unmeaning, and yet I know not that they are likely to do any other harm than to give currency to the common fiction. But when it is said that ' Nature teaches us to adhere to truth,' 'Nature condemns us for dishonesty or deceit,' 'Men are taught by Nature that they are responsible beings,' there is considerable danger that we have both fallacious and injurious notions of the authority which thus teaches or condemns us upon this subject, it were well to take the advice of Boyle : — 'Nature,' he says, 'is sometimes indeed commonly taken for a kind of semi-deity. In this sense it is best not to use it at all.' (See Inquiry into the vulgarly received notions of Nature). It is dangerous to induce confusion into our ideas respecting our relationship with God.

" A law of nature is a very imposing phrase ; and it might be suppos ed, from the language of some persons, that nature was an independent legislatress, who had sat and framed laws for the government of man kind. Nature is nothing ; yet it would seem that men do sometimes practically imagine that a 'lav/ of nature' possesses proper and independ ent authority ; and it may be suspected that with some, the notion is so palpable and strong that they set up the authority of ' the law of nature' without reference to the will of God, or perhaps in opposition to it. Even if notions like these float in the mind only with vapory indis tinctness,, a correspondent indistinctness of moral notions is likely to en sue. Every man should make to himself the rule never to employ tho word nature when he speaks of ultimate moral authority. A law possesses no authority ; the authority rests only in the legislator, and as nature makes no laws, a law of nature involves no obligation but that which is imposed by the Divine will." — Dymond'a Essays, Essay I. chapter ii.

so formed by nature, that there should be a certain social tie among all ; stronger, however, as each approaches nearer to us. Accordingly, citizens are preferable to foreigners, and relations to strangers ; for with the latter, nature her self has created a friendly feeling, though this has not suf ficient strength. For in this respect friendship is superior to relationship, because from relationship benevolence can be withdrawn, and from friendship it can not : for with the with drawal of benevolence the very name of friendship is done away, while that of relationship remains. Now how great the power of friendship is, may be best gathered from this consid eration, that out of the boundless society of the human race, which nature herself has joined together, friendship is a matter so contracted, and brought into so narrow a compass, that the whole of affection is confined to two, or at any rate to very few.

VI. Now friendship is nothing else than a complete union of feeling on all subjects, divine and human, accompanied by kindly feeling and attachment ; than which, indeed, I am not aware whether, with the exception of wisdom, any thingbetter has been bestowed on man by the immortal gods. Some men prefer riches, others good health, others influence, others again honors, many prefer even pleasures : the last, indeed, is the characteristic of beasts ; while the former are fleeting and uncertain, depending not so much on our own purpose, as on the fickleness of fortune. Whereas those who place the supreme good in virtue, therein do admirably ; but this very virtue itself both begets and constitutes friendship ; nor without this virtue can friendship exist at all. Now let us define this virtue according to the usage of life, and of our common language ; and let us not measure it, as certain learned persons do, by pomp of language ; and let us include among the good those who are so accounted — the Paulli, the Catos, the Galli, the Scipios, and the Phili ; with these men ordinaiy life is content: and let us pass over those who are nowhere found to exist. Among men of this kind, therefore, friendship finds facilities so great that I can scarcely describe them. In the first place — to whom can life be " worth living," as' Ennius says, who does not repose on the mutual kind feeling of some friend ? What can be more delightful than to have one to whom you can speak on

CHAP. Til. CICERO ON FRIENDSHIP. 181 all subjects just as to yourself ? Where would be the great enjoyment in prosperity, if you had not one to rejoice in it equally with yourself? And adversity would indeed be difficult to endure, without some one who would bear it even with greater regret than yourself. In short, all other objects that are sought after, are severally suited to some one single purpose : riches, that you may spend them ; power, that you may be courted; honors, that you may be extolled; pleasures, that you may enjoy them ; good health that you may be exempt from harm, and perform the functions of the body. Whereas friendship comprises the greatest number of objects possible : wherever you turn yourself, it is at hand ; shut out of no place, never out of season, never irksome ; and therefore we do not use fire and water, as they say, on more occasions than we do friendship. And I am not now speaking of common-place or ordinary friendship (though even that brings delight and benefit), but of real and true friendship, such as belonged to those of whom very few are recorded ; for prosperity friendship renders more brilliant ; and adversity more supportable, by dividing and communi cating it." 1

VII. And while friendship embraces very many and great advantages, she undoubtedly surpasses all in this, that she shines with a brilliant hope over the future, and never suffers the spirit to be weakened or to sink. Besides, he who looks on a true friend, looks as it were upon a kind of image of himself: wherefore friends, though absent, are still present;

1 " The sympathies of virtuous minds when not warmed by the breath of friendship, are too faint and cold to satisfy the social cravings of our nature, their compassion is too much dissipated by the multiplicity of its objects and the varieties of distress to suffer it to flow long in one channel, while the sentiments of congratulation are still more slight and superfi cial. A transient tear of pity, or a smile of complacency equally transient, is all we can usually bestow on the scenes of happiness or of misery which we meet with in the paths of life. But man naturally seeks for a closer union, a more permanent conjunction of interests, a more intense reciprocation of feeling ; he finds the want of one or more with whom he can trust the secrets of his heart, and relieve himself by imparting tho interior joys and sorrows with which every human breast is fraught. Ho seeks, in short, another self, a kindred spirit whose interest in his welfare bears some proportion to his own, with whom he may lessen his cares by sympathy, and multiply his pleasures by participation." — Hall's Fu neral Sermon for Dr. Ryland.

though in poverty, they are rich ; though weak, yet in the enjoyment of health ; and, what is still more difficult to assert, though dead they are alive ; so entirely does the honor, the memory, the regret of friends attend them ; from which circumstance, the death of the one seems to be happy, and the life of the other praiseworthy; nay, should you remove from nature the cement of kind feelings, neither a house nor a city will be able to stand ; even the cultivation of the land "will not continue. If it be not clearly perceived how great is the power of friendship and concord, it can be dis tinctly inferred from quarrels and dissensions ; for what house is there so established, or what state so firmly settled, that may not utterly be overthrown by hatred and dissension? from which it may be determined how much advantage there is in friendship. They relate, indeed, that a certain learned man of Agrigentum 1 promulgated in Greek verses the doctrine, that all things which cohere throughout the whole world, and all things that are the subjects of motion, are brought together by friendship, and are dispelled by discord; and this principle all men understand, and illustrate by their conduct. Therefore, if at any time any act of a friend has been exhibited, either in undergoing or in sharing dangers, who is there that does not extol such an act with the highest praise ? What shouts of applause were lately heard through the whole theater, on the occasion of a new play by my guest and friend, Marcus Pacuvius, when the king, being ignorant which of them was Orestes, Pylades said he was Orestes, that he might be put to death instead of him ; but Orestes, as was the fact, solemnly maintained that he was the man ? They stood up and applauded in an imaginary case ; what must we suppose they would have done in a real one. Xature herself excellently asserted her rightful power, when men pronounced that to be rightly done in another, which they could not do themselves. Thus far I seem to have been able to lay down what are my sentiments concerning friend ship. If any thing remains (and I fancy there is much), ask of those, if you please, who practice such discussions.

FANNIUS. But we would rather hear it from you ; although

1 Empedocles, a philosopher, poet, and historian of Agrigentum in Sicily, who flourished, B.C. 444. He wrote a poem on the doctrines of Pythagoras.

CHAP. Tin. CICERO ON FRIENDSHIP. 183

L have often asked such questions, and heard their opinions, and that not without satisfaction, yet what we desire is the somewhat different thread of your discourse. — SC^EVOLA. You would say so still more, Famiius, if you had been present lately in the gardens of Scipio, when the subject of Govern ment was discussed. What an able pleader was he then on the side of justice against the subtle argument of Philus ! — FANNIUS. Nay, it was an easy task for the most just of men to uphold the cause of justice. — SC^EVOLA. What shall wo say then of friendship? Would it not be easy for him to eulogize it, who, for maintaining it with the utmost fidelity, steadiness and integrity, has gained the highest glory ?

VIII. L^ELIUS. Why, this. is using force against one: for what matters it by what kind of request you compel me 2 You certainly do compel me. For to oppose the wishes of one's sons-in-law, especially in a good matter, is not only hard, but it is not even just. After very often, then, reflect ing on the subject of friendship, this question seems to me especially worthy of consideration, whether friendship has become an object of desire, on account of weakness or want, so that by giving and receiving favors, each may receive from another, and mutually repay, what he is himself in capable of acquiring. Or whether this is only a property of friendship ; while there is another cause, higher and nobler and^ more directly derived from nature herself? For love (from which friendship takes its name) is the main motive for the union of kind feelings : for advantages truly are often derived from those who are courted under a pretense of friendship, and have attention paid them for a temporary purpose. In friendship there is nothing false, and nothing pretended; and whatever belongs to it is sincere and spon taneous. Wherefore friendship seems to me to have sprung rather from nature than from a sense of want, and more from an attachment of the mind with a certain feeling of affection, than from a calculation how much advantage it would afford. And of what nature indeed it is, may be observed in the case of certain beasts ; for they love their offspring up to a certain time, and are loved by them in such a way that their emotions are easily discovered. And this is much more evi dent in man. In the first place, from that affection which subsists between children and parents, which can not be destroyed without detestable wickedness : next, where a similar feeling of love has existed, if we have met with any one with whose character and disposition we sympathize, because we appear to discover in him a certain effulgence as it were of integrity and virtue. For nothing is more amiable than virtue, nothing which more strongly allures us to love it, seeing that because of their virtue and integrity we can in a certain degree love those whom we have never seen. Who can mention the name of Caius Fabricius, and Marius Curius, otherwise than with love and affection, though he never saw them ? Who can forbear hating Tarquinius Superbus, Spurius Cassius, and Spurius Mselius ? Against two generals we had a struggle for empire in Italy, I mean Pyrrhus and Hannibal ; toward the former, on account of his honorable conduct, we bear not a very hostile disposition ; while this state will always detest the latter for his cruelty.

IX. Now if such be the influence of integrity, that we love it even in those whom we have never seen, and, what is much more, even in an enemy, what wonder if men's feelings are affected when they seem to discover the goodness and virtue of those with whom they may become connected by intercourse ? although love is confirmed by the reception of kindness, and by the discovery of an earnest sympathy, and by close familiarity ; which things being added to the first emotion of the mind and the affections, there is kindled a large amount of kindly feeling. And if any imagine that this proceeds from a sense of weakness, so that there shall be secured a friend, by whom a man may obtain that which he wants, they leave to friendship a mean indeed, and, if I may so speak, any thing but respectable origin, when they make her to be born of indigence and want; were this the case, then in proportion as a man judged that there were the least resources in himself, precisely in that degree would he be best qualified for friendship : whereas the fact is far otherwise. For just as a man has most confidence in himself, and as he is most completely fortified by worth and wisdom, so that he needs no one's assistance, and feels that all his resources reside in himself; in the same proportion he is most highly distinguished for seeking out and forming friendships. For what did Africanus want of me? nothing whatever; nor indeed did I need aught from him : but I loved him from

CHAP. X. CICERO ON FRIENDSHIP. 185 admiration of his excellence; he in turn perhaps was at tached to me from some high opinion which he entertained of my character, and association fostered our affection. But although many and great advantages ensued, yet it was not from any hope of these that the cause of our attachment sprang : for as we are beneficent and liberal, not to exact favor in return (for we are not usurers in kind actions), but by nature are inclined to liberality, thus I think that friend ship is to be desired, not attracted by the hope of reward, but because the whole of its profit consists in love only. From such opinions, they who, after the fashion of beasts, refer every thing to pleasure, widely differ : and no great wonder, since they can not look up to any thing lofty, magnificent, or divine who cast all their thoughts on an object so mean and contemptible. Therefore let us exclude such persons altogether from our discourse ; and let us ourselves hold this opinion, that the sentiment of loving, and the attachment of kind feelings, are produced by nature, when the evidence of virtue has been established ; and they who have eagerly sought the latter, draw nigh and attach themselves to it, that they may enjoy the friendship and character of the individual they have begun to love, and that they may be commensurate and equal in affection, and more inclined to confer a favor than to claim any return. And let this honorable struggle be maintained between them : so not only will the greatest advantages be derived from friendship, but its origin from nature rather than from a sense of weakness, will be at once more impressive and more true. For if it were expediency that cemented friendships, the same when changed would dissolve them ; but because nature can never change, there fore true friendships are eternal. Thus you see the origin of friendship, unless you wish to make some reply to these views. — FANNIUS. Nay, go on, Laelius, for I answer for Scsevola here (who is my junior) on my own authority. — SC^EVOLA. You do right ; wherefore let us attend.

X. LAELIUS. Listen, then, my excellent friends, to the dis cussion which was very frequently held by me and Scipio on the subject of friendship ; although he indeed used to say that nothing was more difficult than that friendship should continue to the end of life ; for it often happened, either that the same course was not expedient to both parties, or that they held different views of politics : he also remarked that the characters of men often changed; in some cases by adversity, in others by old age becoming oppressive ; and he derived an authority for such notions from a comparison with early life, because the strongest attachment of boys are con stantly laid aside with the praetexta jj even if they should main tain it to manhood, yet sometimes it is broken off by rivalry, for a dowried wife, or some other advantage, which they can not both attain. , And even if men should be carried on still further in their friendship, yet that feeling is often undermined, should they fall into rivalry for preferments; for there is no greater enemy to friendship than covetousness of money, in most men, and even in the best, an . emulous desire of high offices and glory ; in consequence of which the most bitter enmities have often arisen between the dearest friends. For great dissensions, and those in most instances, justifiable, arise, when some request is made of friends which is improper ; as, for instance, that they should become either the ministers of their lust or their supporters in the perpetration of wrong ; and they wrho refuse to do so, it matters not however virtuously, yet are accused of dis carding the claims of friendship by those persons whom they are unwilling to oblige ; but they who dare to ask any thing of a friend, by their very request seem to imply that they would do any thing for the sake of that friend ; by the com plaining of such persons, not only are long-established intimacies put an end to, but endless animosities are engen dered. All these many causes, like so many fatalities, are ever threatening friendship, so that he said, to escape them all, seemed to him a proof not merely of wisdom, but even of good fortune.

XI. Wherefore let us first consider if you please, how far love ought to proceed in friendship. If Coriolanus had friends, were they bound to carry arms against their country with Coriolanus ? Were their friends bound to support Viscellinus or Spurius Mselius when they aimed at the sovereignty? Nay, in the case of Tiberius Gracchus, when disturbing the commonwealth, we saw him totally abandoned by Quintus Tubero, and other friends of his own standing. But in the case of Caius Blossius, of Cumse, the friend of our family, Sca3vola, when he had come to me (then attend-

CHAP. XL CICERO ON FRIENDSHIP. 187 ing upon the consuls Lsenas and Rupilius in their council) to sue for pardon, he brought forward his plea, that he es teemed Tiberius Gracchus so highly that he thought it his duty to do whatever he wished. So I said, " What, even if he wished you to set fire to the capitol ?" " He never would have thought of that," he replied. "But what if he had?" " Then I would have complied." You see what an abominable speech : and, by Hercules, he did so, and even worse than he said ; for - he did not follow the mad schemes of Tiberius Gracchus, but in fact headed them, and did not act as the accomplice of his violence, but even as the captain. There fore in consequence of such rashness, being terrified by a new prosecution, he fled precipitately into Asia, joined the enemy, and atoned to the commowealth by a punishment just and severe. It is no excuse therefore for a fault, that you committed it for a friend's sake ; for since the belief in another's excellence was that which conciliated friendship, it is hard for friendship to continue when you have apostatized from virtue. Now if we shall lay it down as right, either to concede to friends whatever they wish, or to obtain from them whatever we wish, we must have indeed consummate wisdom, if such a course leads to no vice. But we are speak ing of those friends who are before our eyes, whom we see around us, or else whom we know by report, and with whom every-day life is familiar : from that class we must take our instances, and above all, from those who make the nearest approaches to wisdom. We see that Papus JEinilius was the intimate friend of Caius Luscinus (so we have learned from our fathers) ; that they were twice consuls together, and col leagues in the censorship ; and that at the same time Marcus Curius and Titus Coruncariius were most intimate with them and with each other, is a matter of history, and there fore we can not even suspect that any one of these ever asked his friend any thing that was contrary to their honor, their oath, and the interest of the state : for what reason is there for making such a remark about men like them ? I am convinced, had any of them made the request, he would not have obtained it, for they were men of the purest prin ciple; besides, it would be equally as wrong to agree to and such request when made, as to make it. And yet Caius Carbo and Caius Cato both took the part of Tiberius Gracelms, as did his brother Cains, at that time by no means an agitator, but now one of the most violent.

XII. Let this law therefore be established in friendship, viz., that we should neither ask things that are improper, nor grant them when asked ; for it is a disgraceful apology, and by no means to be admitted, as well in the case of other offenses, as when any one avows he has acted against the state for the sake of a friend.1 For we are placed, O Fannius and Scsevola, in such a position that we ought to see from a distance the future calamities of the commonwealth ; for the practice of our ancestors has already in some respect swerved from its career and course. Tiberius Gracchus has endeavored to obtain the sovereignty, or rather he reigned for a few months. Had the Roman people ever heard or witnessed any thing similar ? Even after his death, his friends and relations maintained his cause; and what malice they exer cised against Publius Scipio, I can not relate without tears ; for, owing to the recent punishment of Tiberius Gracchus, we withstood Carbo by whatever means we could. And con cerning the tribuneship of Cnius Gracchus, what we have to expect I have no disposition to anticipate ; still the movement is creeping on, and when once it has begun, it rushes with increasing precipitation to destruction : for already you have seen with regard to the ballot, what great mischief has been

1 " The knowledge concerning good respecting society, doth handle it also, not simply alone, but comparatively ; whereunto belongeth the weighing of duties between person and person, case and case, particular and public ; as we see in the proceeding of Lucius Brutus against his own sons, which was so much extolled ; yet what was said ?

' Infelix utcunque ferent ea facta minores.'

So the case was doubtful, and had opinion on both sides. Again, we see when M. Brutus and Cassius invited to a supper certain whose opin ions they meant to feel whether they were fit to be made their associates, and cast forth the question touching the killing of a tyrant being a usurp er, they were divided in opinion ; some holding that servitude was the extreme of evils, and others that tyranny was better than civil war ; and a number of the like cases there are of comparative duty, among which, that of all others is the most frequent, where the question is of a great deal of good to ensue of a small injustice which Jason of Thessalia de termined against truth. ' Aliqua sunt injuste facienda ut multa juste fieri possint.' But the reply is good : ' Auctorem pragsentis justitiae habes sponsorem futurse non habes.' Men must pursue things which are just at present, and leave the future to a divine Providence."— Bacon's Adv. of Learning, book II.

CHAP. xiii. CICERO ON FRIENDSHIP. 189 caused — first, by the Gabinian law,1 and two years after by the Cassian: for already I fancy I see the people separated from the senate, and the most important measures carried at the caprice of the mob ; far more people will learn how such things may be done, than how they may be resisted. Wherefore do I say this ? Because without allies no one attempts any thing of the kind ; therefore this" should be pressed on all good men, that if inadvertently they should have fallen unawares into friendships of that character, they must think themselves bound in such a manner that they must not desert their friends when doing wrong in any import ant matter : at the same time, punishment should be enacted against the wicked ; and not less severe for those who have followed another, than for those who have been themselves the leaders of the wickedness. Who was more illustrious in Greece than Themistocles ? who more powerful ? And when he, as general in the Persian war, had freed Greece from slavery, and through unpopularity had been driven into exile, he could not endure the injustice of his ungrateful country, which he ought to have borne ; he acted the same part as Coriolanus had done among us twenty years before. No one was found to support these men against their coun try; accordingly, they both committed suicide. Wherefore such a combination with wicked men not only must not be sheltered under the excuse of friendship, but should rather be visited with every kind of punishments : so that no one may think it permitted to him to follow a friend, even when waging war against his country. And as matters have begun to proceed, I know not whether that will not some day occur. To me, however, it is no less a cause of anxiety in what state the republic shall be after my death, than in what state it is at this day.

XIII. Let this, therefore, be established as a primary law /concerning friendship, that we expect from our friends only what is honorable, and for our friends' sake do what is honorable ; that we should not wait till we are asked ; that zeal be ever ready, and reluctance far from us ; but that we

1 Lex Gabinia de Comitiis, by Aulus Gabinius, the tribune, A.TT.C. 614. It required that, in the public assemblies for electing magistrates, the votes should be given by tablets, and not viva voce. Cassius was tribune of the people, and competitor with Cicero for the consulship.

take pleasure in freely giving our advice ; that in our friendship, the influence of our friends, when they give good advice, should have great weight ; and that this be em ployed to admonish not only candidly, but even severely, if the case shall require, and that we give heed to it when so employed ; for, as to certain persons, whom I understand to have been esteemed wise men in Greece, I am of opinion that some strange notions were entertained by them ; but there is nothing which they do not follow up with too great subtlety : among the rest, that excessive friendships should be avoided, lest it should be necessary for one to feel anxiety for many ; that every one has enough, and more than enough, of his own affairs ; that to be needlessly impli cated in those of other people is vexatious ; that it was most convenient to hold the reins of friendship as loose as pos sible, so as either to tighten or slacken them when you please ; for they argue, that the main point toward a happy life is freedom from care, which the mind can not enjoy if one man be, as it were, in travail for others. Nay, they tell us that some are accustomed to declare, still more unfeelingly (a topic which I have briefly touched upon just above), that friendships should be cultivated for the purpose of protection and assistance, and not for kind feeling or affection; and therefore the less a man possesses of in dependence, and of strength, in the same degree he most earnestly desires friendships; that thence it arises that women seek the support of friendship more than men, and the poor more than the rich, and persons in distress,1 rather than those wrho are considered prosperous. Admirable phi losophy ! for they seem to take away the sun from the world who withdraw friendship from life ; for we receive nothing better from the immortal gods, nothing more delightful : for what is this freedom from care ? — in appearances, indeed, flattering ; but, in many cases in reality to be disdained. Nor is it reasonable to refuse to undertake any honorable matter or action lest you should be anxious, or to lay it aside when undertaken ; for if we fly from care, we must fly from virtue also; for it is impossible that she can, without some degree of distress, feel contempt and detestation for

1 Calamitosi, the ruined ; from calamitas, a hail-storm, which breaks the calamus or stalk of plants.

CHAP. 3TT. CICERO ON FRIENDSHIP. 191 qualities opposed to herself; just as kind-heartedness for malice, temperance for profligacy, and bravery for cowardice. Accordingly you see that upright men are most distressed by unjust actions ; the brave with the cowardly ; the virtu ous with the profligate : and, therefore, this is the character istic of a well-regulated mind, both to be well pleased with what is excellent, and to be distressed with what is contrary. Wherefore, if trouble of mind befall a wise man (and as suredly it will, unless we suppose that all humanity is extirpated from his mind), what reason is there why we should altogether remove friendship from life, lest because of it we should take upon ourselves some troubles ? for what difference is there (setting the emotions of the mind aside), I do not say between a man and a beast, but between a man and a stone, or log, or any thing of that kind ? For they do not deserve to be listened to, who would have virtue to be callous, and made of iron, as it were ; which indeed is, as in other mat ters, so in friendship also, tender and susceptible ; so that friends are loosened, as it were, by happy events, and drawn together by distresses.

XIV. Wherefore the anxiety which has often to be felt for a friend, is not of such force that it should remove friendship from the world, any more than that the virtues, because they bring with them certain cares and troubles, should therefore be discarded.. For when it produces friendship (as I said above), should any indication of virtue shine forth, to which a congenial mind may attach and unite itself — when this happens, affection must necessarily arise. For what is so unmeaning as to take delight in many vain things, such as preferments, glory, magnificent buildings, clothing and adornment of the body; and not to take an extreme delight in a soul endued with virtue, in such a soul as can either love, or (so to speak) love in return 3 for there is nothing more delightful than the repayment of kindness, and the interchange of devotedness and good offices. Now if we add this, which may with propriety be added, that there is nothing which so allures and draws any object to itself as congeniality does friendship ; it will of course be .admitted as true that the good must love the good, and unite them to themselves, just as if connected by relationship and nature ; for nothing is more apt to seek and seize on its like than nature. Wherefore this certainly is clear, Fannius and Scsevola, (in my opinion), that among the good a likiDg for the good is, as it were, inevitable; and this indeed is ap pointed by nature herself as the very fountain of friendship.1 But the same kind disposition belongs also to the multitude ; for virtue is not inhuman, or cruel, or haughty, since she is accustomed to protect even whole nations, and to adopt the best measures for their welfare, which assuredly she would not do did she shrink from the affection of the vulgar. And to myself, indeed, those who form friendships with a view to advantage, seem to do away with its most endearing bond ; for it is not so much the advantage obtained through a friend, as the mere love of that friend, which delights ; and then only what has proceeded from a friend becomes de lightful, if it has proceeded from zealous affection : and that friendship should be cultivated from a sense of necessity, is so far from being the case, that those who, being endowed with power and wealth, and especially with virtue (in which is the strongest support of friendship), have least need of another, are most liberal and generous. Yet I am not sure whether it is requisite that friends should never stand in any need; for wherein would any devotedness of mine to him have been exerted, if Scipio had never stood in need of my advice or assistance at home or abroad?

1 " Of all attachments to an individual, that which is founded alto gether upon esteem and approbation of his good conduct and behavior, confirmed by much experience and long acquaintance, is by far the most respectable. Such friendship arising, not from a constrained sympathy, not from a sympathy which has been assumed and rendered habitual for the sake of convenience and accommodation, but from a natural sympa thy, from an involuntary feeling that the persons to whom we attach ourselves are the natural and proper objects of esteem and approbation, can exist only among men of virtue. Men of virtue only can feel that entire confidence in the conduct and behavior of one another which can at all times assure them that they can never either offend or be offended by one another : vice is .always capricious ; virtue only is regular and orderly. The attachment which is founded upon the love of virtue, as it is certainly of all attachments the most virtuous, so it is likewise the happiest, as well as the most permanent and serene. Such friendships need not be confined to a single person, but may safely embrace all the wise and virtuous with whom we have been long and intimately ac quainted, and upon whose wisdom and virtue we can upon that account entirely depend." — Smith's Moral Sentiments, Part YI.

CHAP. xv. CICERO ON FRIENDSHIP. 193

Wherefore friendship has not followed upon advantage, but advantage on friendship.

XV. Persons, therefore, who are wallowing in indulgence, will not need to be listened to if ever they shall descant upon friendship, which they have known neither by ex perience nor by theory. For who is there, by the faith of gods and men, who would desire, on the couditon of his loving no one, and himself being loved by none, to roll in affluence, and live in a superfluity of all things ? For this is the life of tyrants, in which undoubtedly there can be no confidence, no affection, no steady dependence on attach ment; all is perpetually mistrust and disquietude — there is no room for friendship. For who can love either him whom he fears, or him by whom he thinks he himself is feared ? Yet are they courted, solely in hypocrisy, for a time ; because, if perchance (as it frequently happens) they have been brought low, then it is perceived how desti tute they were of friends. And this, they say, Tarquin1 expressed; that when going into exile,*~he found out whom he had as faithful friends, and whom unfaithful ones, since then he could no longer show gratitude to either party; although I wonder that, with such haughtiness and im patience of temper, he could find one at all. And as the character of the individual whom I have mentioned could not obtain true friends, so the riches of many men of rank exclude all faithful friendship; for not only is fortune blind herself, but she commonly renders blind those whom she embraces. Accordingly such persons are commonly puffed up with pride and insolence, nor can any thing be found more intolerable than a fortunate fool. And thus, indeed, one may observe, that those who before were of agreeable character, by military command, by preferment, by pros perity, are changed, and old friendships are despised by them, and new ones cherished. For what can be more foolish than, when men are possessed of great influence by their wealth, power, and resources, to procure other things which are procured by money — horses, slaves, rich apparel,

1 Tarquinius, surnamed Superbus, the seventh and last king of Rome. After reigning twenty-five years, he was banished, about B.C. 509, ia consequence of the rape of Lucretia. The republican form of government was established at Rome after the expulsion of Tarquin.

costly vases — and not to procure friends, the most valuable and fairest furniture of life, if I may so speak ; for while they are procuring those things, they know not for whom they are procuring them, nor for whose sake they are laboring.1 For every one of these things belongs to him who is most powerful, whereas the possession of his friendships is preserved to every one steadfast and secure ; so that if those things are preserved which are, as it were, the gifts of fortune, yet a life un adorned and abandoned by friends can not possibly be happy. But on this head enough

XVI. But it is required to lay down what limits there are in friendship, and, as it were, what bounds of loving, con cerning which I see three opinions held, of none of which I approve : — the first, that we should be affected toward a friend in the same manner as toward ourselves ; the second, that our good-will toward our friends should exactly and equally answer to their good-will toward us ; the third, that at whatever value a man sets himself, at the same he should be estimated by his friends. To none of these three opinions do I entirely assent. For the first one is not true, that as a man feels toward himself so he should be disposed toward his friend. For how many things, which for our own sake we should never do, do we perform for the sake of our friends ? To ask favors of unworthy persons, to supplicate them, to inveigh bitterly against any one, and to accuse him with great vehemence, which in our own cases can not be done creditably, in the case of our friends are most honorably done ; and there are many cases in which good men subtract many things from their own interests, or allow them to be subtracted, that their friends, rather than themselves, may enjoy them. The second opinion is that which limits friend ship to an equality of kind actions and kind wishes : this is indeed to reduce friendship to figures too minutely and penuriously, so that there may be a balance of received and paid. True friendship seems to be far too rich and affluent for that, and not to observe, narrowly, lest it should pay more than it receives : nor need it be feared lest any thing should be lost

1 In this, as in many other passages, Cicero has written the sentiment and almost the language of the Scriptures : "He heapeth up riches, and knoweth not who shall gather them."

CHAP. xvn. CICERO ON FRIENDSHIP. 195 or fall to the ground, or lest more than what is fair should be accumulated on the side of friendship. But the third limitation is most detestable, that at whatever value a man sets on himself, at that value he should be estimated by his friends; for often, in certain persons, either their spirit is too humble, or their hope of improving their condition too desponding; it is not, therefore, the part of a friend to be toward him what he is to himself; but rather to use every effort, and to contrive to cheer the prostrate spirit of his friend, and to encourage better hopes and thoughts. There fore I must lay down some other limit of true friendship, as soon as I shall have stated what Scipio was accustomed above all things to reprehend. He used to declare that no speech could be found more hostile to friendship, than his who had said that a man ought so to love as if one day he would come to hate.1 Nor, indeed, could he be induced to believe that this, as was supposed, was said by Bias,2 who was considered one of the seven wise men ; but that it was the opinion of some wicked or « ambitious man, or one who sought to bring every thing under his own power. For in what manner can any one be a friend to him to whom he thinks he may possibly become an enemy ? Moreover, it will follow that he desires and wishes his friend to do wrong as often as possible, that he may afford him, as it were, so many handles for reproach. And, again, at the right conduct and advantage of his friends he will necessarily be tormented, grieved, and jealous. Wherefore this precept, to whomso ever it belongs, is powerful only for the destruction of friend ship. This, rather, should have been the precept, that we should employ such carefulness in forming our friendships, that we should not any time begin to love the man whom we could ever possibly hate. Moreover, if we have been but unfortunate in our selection, Scipio was of opinion that this should be submitted to, rather than that a time of alienation should ever be contemplated.

XVII. I think, therefore, we must adopt these limitations, that when the character of friends is correct, then there

1 Si aliquando esset osnrus. This sentiment 4s taken from the Ajax of Sophocles.

2 Bias, one of the seven wise men of Greece ; born at Prieiie. He flourished about B.C. 5tO.

should be a community between them of all things, of pur pose and of will, without any exception ; so that, even if by any chance it has happened that the less honorable wishes of our friends have to be forwarded, in which either their life is concerned, or their reputation, then you may decline a little from the straight path,1 provided only extreme infamy do not follow ; for there is a point to which indulgence may be granted to friendship : yet reputation must not be disre garded ; nor ought we to esteem the good-will of our fellowcountrymen as an engine of small value in .the administration of the state, although to seek it by fawning and flattering is mean indeed ; yet virtue, on which affection is consequent, should by no means be rejected. But frequently (for I return to Scipio, the whole of whose discourse was concern ing friendship) he used to complain, that in all other things men were comparatively careful ; so that every man could tell how many goats or how many sheep he possessed, yet how many friends he had he could not tell ; and in procuring the former, men employed carefulness, while in selecting their friends they were negligent, nor had they, as it were, any signs or marks by which they determined who were suited Ifor friendship. The steadfast, then, and the steady, and the consistent are to be selected, of which class of persons there is a great scarcity ; and, in truth, it is difficult for any one to judge, unless after he is expeiienced. Now the trial must be made in actual friendship ; thus friendship outstrips judgment, and removes the power of making ex periments. It is the part, therefore, of a prudent man, to check the impetus of his kindly feeling as he would his chariot, that we may have our friendships, like our horses,

1 " Something indeed, not unlike the doctrine of the casuists, seems to have been attempted by several philosophers. There is something of this kind in the third book of Cicero's Offices, where he endeavors, like a casuist, to give rules for our conduct in many nice cases in which it is difficult to determine whereabouts the point of propriety may lie. It appears too from many passages in the same book, that several other philosophers had attempted something of the same kind before him. Neither he nor they, however, appeared to have aimed at giving a com plete system of this sorlj but only meant to show how situations may occur in which it is doubtful whether the highest propriety of conduct consists in observing or in receding from what in ordinary cases are the rules of duty." — Smith's " Moral Philosophy," Part vii.

CHAP. xvm. CICERO ON" FRIENDSHIP. 197 fully proved, when the character of our friends has been in some measure tested.*— Of some, it is often discovered in small sums of money how void of worth they are. Some, whom a small sum could not influence, are discovered in the case of a large one. But, even if some shall be found who think it sordid to prefer money to friendship, where should we find those who do not place above friendship high digni ties, magistracies, military command, civil authorities, and influence ? so that, when on the one side these objects have been proposed, and the claim of friendship on the other, they would not far prefer the former. For nature is too weak to despise the possession of power ; for, even if they have attained it by the slighting of friendship, they think the act will be thrown into the shade, because friendship was not overlooked without strong grounds. Therefore real friend ships are found with most difficulty among those who are in vested with high offices, or in business of the state. For where can you find the man who would prefer his friend's advancement to his own ? And why ? For to pass over these matters, how grievous, how impracticable to most men does participation in afflictions appear ! to which it is not easy to find the man who will descend. Although Ennius1 truly says, " A sure friend is discerned in an unsure matter." Yet these two charges of inconstancy and of weakness con demn most men : either in their prosperity they despise a friend, or in his troubles they desert him.

XVIII. He who, therefore, shall have shown himself in both cases as regards friendship, worthy, consistent, and steadfast ; such a one we ought to esteem of a class of persons ex tremely rare, nay, almost godlike. Now, the foundation of that steadfastness and constancy, which we seek in friendship, is sincerity. For nothing is steadfast which is insincere. Besides, it is right that one should be chosen who is frank, and good-natured, and congenial in his sentiments ; one, in fact, who is influenced by the same motives ; all which qualities have a tendency to create sincerity. For it is impossible for a wily and

1 Ennius, a Latin poet, born at Rudii, in Calabria. He wrote, in heroic verse, eighteen books of the Annals of the Roman Republic, which are frequently quoted by Cicero. He was the intimate friend of Cato and Scipio ; the former of whom he accompanied when qaestor of Sardinia. His death took place about 170 years before the Christian era.

tortuous disposition to be sincere. Nor in truth can the man who has no sympathy from nature, and who is not moved by the same considerations, be either attached or steady. To the same requisites must be added, that he shall neither take delight in bringing forward charges, nor believe them when they arise ; all which causes -belong to that consistent principle, of which now for some time I have been treating. Thus the remark is true, which I made at first, that friendship can only exist among the good : for it is the part of a good man (whom at the same time we may call a wfse man) to observe these two rules in friendship : first, that there shall be nothing pre tended or simulated (for even to hate openly better becomes the ingenuous man, than by his looks to conceal his sen timents) ; in the next place, that not only does he repel charges when brought (against his friends) by any one, but is not himself suspicious, ever fancying that some infidelity has been committed by his friend. To all this there should be added a certain suavity of conversation and manners, affording as it does no inconsiderable zest to friendship. Now solemnity and gravity on all occasions, certainly, carry with them dignity; but friendship ought to be easier and more free and more pleasant, and tending more to every kind of politeness and good nature.

XIX. But there arises on this subject a somewhat difficult question; whether ever new friends, if deseving friendship, are to be preferred to old ones, just as we are wont to prefer young colts to old horses ? a perplexity unworthy of a man ; for there ought to be no satiety of friendship as of other things : every thing which is oldest (as those wines which bear age well) ought to be sweetest ; and that is true which is sometimes said, " many bushels of salt must be eaten together," before the duty of friendship can be fulfilled. But new friendships, if they afford a hope that, as in the case of plants which never disappoint, fruits shall appear, such are not to be rejected ; yet the old one must be preserved in its proper place, for the power of age and custom is exceedingly great ; besides, in the very case of the horse, .which I just mentioned, if there is no impediment, there is no one who does not more pleasurably use that to which he is accustomed than one unbroken and strange to him ; and habitl asserts its power, and habit prevails, not only in the case of this, which

CHAP. xx. CICERO ON FRIENDSHIP. 199 is animate, but also in the cases of those things which are inanimate, since we take delight in the very mountainous or woody scenery among which we have long dwelt. "But it is of the greatest importance in friendship that the superior should be on an equality with the inferior. For there often are instances of superiority, as was the case with Scipio, one, so to speak, of our own herd. He never ranked himself above Philus, or Rupilius, or Mummius, or other friends of an inferior grade. But his brother, Quintus Maximus, a distinguished man, though bysno means equal to himself, simply because he was the elder, he treated as his superior, and he wished all his friends should receive additional dignity through him. And this conduct should be adopted and imitated by all, so that if they have attained to any excellence in worth, genius, or fortune, they should communicate them with their friends, and share them with their connections ; so that if men have been born of humble parentage, or if they have kinsmen less powerful than themselves, either in mind or in fortune, they should increase the consequence of such persons, and be to them a source of credit and of dignity ; as in works of fiction, they who for some time, through igno rance of their origin and descent, have been in a state of servitude, when they have been discovered and found out to be the sons of gods or kings, yet retain their affection for the shepherds, whom for many years they looked upon as their parents. And this assuredly is much rather to be observed in the case of parents that are real and undoubted. For the fruit of talent, and worth, and eveiy excellence, is gathered most fully when it is bestowed on every one most nearly connected with us.

XX. As therefore those who are superior in the con nection of friendship and of union, ought to put themselves on a level with their inferiors ; so ought the inferiors not to grieve that they are surpassed by their friends either in genius, or fortune, or rank : whereas most of them are always either complaining of something, or even breaking out into reproaches ; and so much the more if they think they have any thing which they can say was done by them in an obliging and friendly manner with some exertion on their part. A disgusting set of people assuredly they are who are ever reproaching you with their services ; which the man on whom they are conferred ought indeed to remember, but he who conferred them ought not to call them to mind. Where fore, as those who are superior ought in the exercise of friendship to condescend ; so, in a measure, they ought to raise up their inferiors. For there are some persons who render friendships with them annoying, while they fancy they are slighted : this does not commonly happen except to those who think themselves liable to be slighted; and from this belief they require to be relieved, not only by your pro fessions but by your actionm Now, first of all, so much advantage is to be bestowed on each as you yourself can pro duce ; and in the next place, as much as he whom you love and assist can bear ; for you could not, however eminent you might be, bring all your friends to the very highest honor ; just as Scipio had power to make Publius Rutulius consul, but could not do the same for his brother Lucius: indeed, even if you have the power to confer what you please on another, yet you must consider what he can bear. lOn the whole, those connections only can be considered as* friend ships, when both the dispositions and age have been es tablished and matured. Nor, when persons have been in early life attached to hunting or tennis, are they bound to make intimates of those whom at that time they loved, as being endowed with the same taste : for on that principle, our nurses and the tutors of our childhood, by right of priority, will claim the greatest part of our affection ; who, indeed, should not be neglected, but possess our regard in some other manner : otherwise friendships could not continue steadfast. For dissimilar habits and dissimilar pursuits ensue ; the dissimilarity of which severs friendships : it is for no other cause that the good can not be friends of the worthless, or the worthless of the good ; but that there is between them the greatest difference that can subsist of char acters and pursuits. For in friendships this precept may be properly laid down, not to let ill-regulated affection (as often is the case) thwart and impede the great usefulness of friends : nor in truth (to revert to fiction) could Neoptolemus1 1 Neoptolemus, a surname of Pyrrhus, the son of Achilles. He was so called because he came to the Trojan war in the last year of the siege of Troy. According to the fates, Troy could not be taken without his assistance. His mother, Deidamia, was the daughter of Lycomedes, long of the isknd of Scyros.

CHAP. ZXL CICERO ON" FRIENDSHIP. 201 have taken Troy if lie had been inclined to listen to Lycoinedes, with whom he had been brought up, when with many tears he sought to prevent his journey : and often important occasions arise, so that you must bid farewell to your friends ; and he who would hinder them, because he can not easily bear the regret for their loss, such an one is both weak and effeminate by nature, and on that ground unjust in his friendship. And in every case it is necessary to consider, both what you would ask of a friend, and what favor you would permit to be obtained from yourself.

XXI. There is a kind of calamity also, sometimes inevi table, in the discarding of friendships. For at length our discourse descends, from the intimacies of the wise, to ordinary friendships. The faults of friends often break out as well on the friends themselves as on strangers ; and yet the disgrace of such persons must redound to their friends : such friend ships therefore must be dissolved by the intermission of intercourse, and (as I have heard Cato say) should be ripped rather than rent ; unless some intolerable sense of wrong has been kindled, so that it is neither right, nor cred itable, nor possible that an estrangement and separation should not take place immediately. But if any change of character or pursuits (as commonly happens) shall have taken place, or quarrel arisen with respect to political parties (for I speak now, as I observed a little before, not of the friend ships of the wise but of such as are ordinary), we should have to be cautious, lest not only friendships be found to be laid aside, but even animosity to have been incurred ; for nothing can be more disgraceful than to be at war with him with whom you have lived on terms of friendship. From his friendship with Quintus Pompey,1 Scipio had withdrawn himself on my account2 (as you know) ; moreover, on account of the dissension which existed in the republic, he was estranged from my colleague Metellus ;3 on both occasions he

1 Quintus Pompeius a consul, who carried on war against the Numantines, and made an ignominious treaty. He is the first of that noble family of whom mention is made.

2 Meo nomine, on my account; desiderium expresses a "feeling of want," or " regret for the loss of any one."

3 Metellus, a Roman general, who defeated the Achaeans, and invaded Macedonia.

acted with dignity and decision, and with an offended but not bitter feeling. Wherefore, in the first place, pains must be taken that there be no alienation of friends ; but if aught of the kind shall have occurred, that that friendship should seem rather to have died away than to have been violently destroyed. In truth we must take care lest friendship turn into bitter hostilities ; from which quarrels, hard language, and insults are produced, and yet if they shall be bearable, they must be borne ; and thus much honor should be paid to an old friendship, that he shall be in fault who inflicts the injury, and not he who suffers it. On the whole, against all such faults and inconveniences there is one precaution and one provision, that we should not begin to love too hastily, nor love unworthy persons. Now they are worthy of friend ship in whom there exists a reason why they should be loved ; a rare class (for in truth all that is excellent is rare) ; nor is aught more difficult than to find any thing which in every respect is perfect of its kind : but most men recognize noth ing as good in human affairs but what is profitable ; and with their friends, as with cattle, they love those most espe cially from whom they hope they will receive most ad vantage ; and thus they are destitute of that most beautiful and most natural friendship, which is desirable for itself and of itself; nor do they exemplify to themselves what and how powerful this quality of friendship is. For every one loves himself, not that he may exact from himself some reward of his affection, but that, for his own sake, every one is dear to himself. And unless this same principle be transferred to friend ship, a true friend will never be found ; for such an one is, as it were, a second self. Now, if this is apparent in beasts, birds, fishes, creatures of the field, tame and wild, that first they love themselves (for the principle is alike born with every living thing); in the next place, that they seek out and desire some creatures of the same species to which they may unite them selves, and do this with desire, and with a kind of resemblance to human love ; how much more naturally does this take place in man by nature, who not only loves himself, but seeks for another whose soul he may so mingle with his own, as almost to create one person out of two ?

XXII. Yet most men, perversely, not to say shamelessly, desire to have a friend, such as they themselves are unable

CHAP.xxrr. CICERO ON FRIENDSHIP. 203 to be ; and allowances which they themselves make not for their friends, they require from them. Now, the fair thing is, first that a man himself should be good, and then that he should seek another like to himself. Among such persons, there may be established that solidity of friendship which I have long been treating on; when men are united by benevolent feeling, they will first of all master those passions to which others are slaves ; next, they will take pleasure in equity and justice, and the one will undertake every thing for the other ; nor will the one ever ask of the other any thing but what is honorable and right : nor will they only mutually regard and love each other, but even have a feeling of respect ; for he removes the greatest ornament of friendship, who takes away from it respect. Accordingly, there is a pernicious error in those who think that a free in dulgence in all lusts and sins is extended in friendship. Friendship was given us by nature as the handmaid of virtues, and not as the companion of our vices : that since, alone and unaided, virtue could not arrive at the highest attainments, she might be able to do so when united and associated with another;1 and if such a society between any persons either exists or has existed, or is likely to do so, their companionship is to be esteemed, in respect of the chief good in life, most excellent and most happy. This, I say, is that association in which all things exist which men deem worthy the pursuit — reputation, high esteem, peace of mind, and cheerfulness ; so that where these blessings are present, life is happy, and without these can not be so. And whereas

1 " But it is not merely as a source of pleasure, or as a relief from pain, that virtuous friendship is to be coveted, it is as much recommended by its utility. He who has made the acquisition of a judicious and sympa thizing friend, may be said to have doubled his mental resources : by as sociating an equal, perhaps a supreme mind with his own, he has pro vided the means of strengthening his reason, of perfecting his counsels, of discerning and correcting his errors. He can have recourse at all times to the judgment and assistance of one who, with the same power of discernment with himself, comes to the decision of a question with a mind neither harassed with the perplexities, nor heated with the passions which so frequently obscure the perception of our true interests. Next to the immediate guidance of God by his Spirit, the counsel and encour agement of virtuous and enlightened friends afford the most powerful aid in the encounter of temptation and in the career of duty."— Hall's Funeral Sermon for Dr. Ryland.

this is the best and highest of objects, if we would gain it, attention must be paid to virtue ; without which we can neither obtain friendship nor any thing worthy of pursuit: indeed, should this be disregarded, they who think they pos sess friends, too late find that they are mistaken, when some grievous misfortune compels them to make the trial. Where fore (for I must say it again and again) when you have formed your judgment, then it behooves you to give your affections ; and not when you have given your affections, then to form the judgment ; but while in many cases we suffer for our care lessness, so especially in choosing and cultivating friends ; for we adopt a preposterous plan, and set about doing what has been already done, which we are forbidden by the old proverb to do. For, being entangled on every side, either by daily in tercourse or else by kind offices, suddenly, in the middle of our course, on some offense arising, we break off our friendships altogether.

XXIII. Wherefore so much the more is this great negli gence to be blamed in a matter of the highest necessity. For friendship is the only point in human affairs, concerning the benefit of which, all with one voice agree ; although by many virtue herself is despised, and is said to be a mere bragging and ostentation. Many persons despise riches; for, being content with a little, moderate food and a moderate st}Tle of living delights them; as to high offices, in truth, with the ambitious desire of which some men are inflamed, how many men so completely disregard them that they think nothing is more vain and more trifling: and likewise there are those who reckon as nothing other things which to some men seem worthy of admiration :l concerning friend-

1 Among these may be mentioned Lord Bacon, not only as one of those to whom Cicero here is especially referring, but as one who himself held the highest office to which the ambition of a subject could aspire. In his eleventh essay, entitled, " Of great place," he makes the following observations : " Men in great place are thrice servants ; servants of the sovereign or state, servants of fame, and servants of business, so as they have no freedom neither in their persons, nor in their actions, nor in their times. It is a strange desire to seek power and lose liberty, or to seek power over others and to lose power over a man's self The rising unto place is laborious, and by pains men come to greater pains, and it is sometimes base and by indignities men come to dignities. The standing is slippery, and the regress is either a downfall or at least an eclipse, which is a melancholy thing ; ' cum non sis qui fueris non esse cur veils

CHAP. xxni. CICERO ON FRIENDSHIP. 205 ship, all to a man have the same opinion. Those who have devoted themselves to political affairs, and those who find pleasure in knowledge and learning, and those who transact their own affairs at their leisure, and lastly, those who have given themselves wholly up to pleasure, feel that with out friendship life is nothing, at least if they are inclined in any degree to live respectably* for somehow or other, friendship entwines itself with the life of all men, nor does it suffer any mode of spending our life to be independent of itself. Moreover, if there is any one of such ferocity and brutality of nature that he shuns and hates the intercourse of mankind, such as we have heard that one Timon1 was at Athens ; yet even he can not possibly help looking out for some one on whom he may disgorge the venom of his illnature. And this would be most clearly decided if something of this kind could happen — that some god should remove us from the crowded society of men, and place us somewhere in solitude, and there supplying us w±^ abundance and plenty of all things which nature requires, yet should take from us altogether the opportunity of seeing a human being ; who would then be so insensible that he could endure such a life, and from whom would not solitude take away the enjoyment of all pleasure? Accordingly, there is truth in that which I have heard our old men relate to have been commonly said by Archytas of Tarentum,2 and vivere." Nay, retire men can not when they would, neither will they when it were reason, but are impatient of privateness, even in age and sickness which require the shadow ; like old townsmen that will be still sitting at their street door, though thereby they offer age to scorn. Cer tainly, great persons had need to borrow other men'a opinions to think themselves happy, for if they judge by their own feeling they can not find it, but if they think with themselves what other men think of them, and that other men would fain be as they are, then they are happy as it were by report, when perhaps they find the contrary within ; for they are the first that find their own griefs, though they be the last that find their own faults. Certainly, men in great fortunes are strangers to them selves, and while they are in the puzzle of business, they have no time to tend their own health, either of body or mind. ' Illi mora gravis incubat qui notus nimis omnibus, igaotus moritur sibi.' " — Bacon's Essays, Essay xi.

1 Timon, an Athenian, called the Misanthrope, from his hatred of so ciety. He forms the subject of one of Shakespeare's plays, and-of one of Lucian's dialogues.

a Archytas of Tarentum, a Pythagorean philosopher, an able astrono-

206 CICEKO ON FRIENDSHIP. CHAP. xxnL

I think heard by them from others their elders, that if any one could have ascended to the sky, and surveyed the structure of universe, and the beauty of the stars, that -such admiration would be insipid to him ; and yet it would be most deligtful if he had some one to whom he might describe it.1 Thus nature mer and geometrician. He perished by shipwreck, about B.C. 394. See Horace, Book I. Ode 28.

1 Dugald Stewart classes this feeling among the natural and universal principles of our constitution. " Abstracting," he says, "from those af fections which interest us in the happiness of others, and from all the advantages which we ourselves derive from the social union we are led by a natural and instinctive desire to associate with our own species. This principle is easily discernible in the minds of children, and it is com mon to man with many of the brutes. After experiencing, indeed, the pleasures of social life, the influence of habit, and a knowledge of the comforts inseparable from society, contribute greatly to strengthen the instinctive desire, and hence some authors have been induced to display their ingenuity by disputing its existence. Whatever opinion we form on this speculative question, the desire of society is equally entitled to be ranked among the natural and universal principles of our constitution. How very powerfully this principle of action operates, appears from the effects of solitude upon the mind. "We feel ourselves in an unnatural state, and by making companions of the lower animals, or by attaching our selves to inanimate objects, strive to fill up the void of which we are conscious." — Stewart's Outlines of Moral Philosophy, part ii. chap. 1.

But while admitting the natural yearning of the human mind for com panionship, some modern philosophers, especially those of a graver and more reflective character, have insisted on the importance of retirement and frequent solitude. Thus, Dr. Johnson, the great moralist of the last generation, observes: "The love of retirement has in all ages adhered closely to those minds which have been most enlarged by knowledge, or elevated by genius. Those who enjoyed every thing generally supposed to confer happiness, have been forced to seek it in the shades of privacy. Though they possessed both power and riches, and were therefore sur rounded by men who considered it as their chief interest to remove from them everything that might offend their ease, or interrupt their pleasure, they have soon felt the languor of satiety, and found themselves unable to pursue the race of life without frequent respirations of intermediate solitude. To produce this disposition, nothing appears requisite but quick sensibility and active imagination ; for though not devoted to virtue or science, the man whose faculties enable him to make ready compar isons of the present with the past will find such a constant recurrence of the same pleasure and troubles, the same expectations and disap pointments, that he will gladly snateh an hour of retreat to let his thoughts expatiate at large, and seek for that variety in his own ideas which the objects of sense can not afford him. These are some of the motives which have had power to sequester kings and heroes from the crowds that soothed them with flatteries, or inspirited them with ac clamations. But their efficacy seems confined to the higher mind, and

CHAP. xxiv. CICERO ON FRIENDSHIP. 207 loves nothing solitary, and always reaches out to something, as a support, which ever in the sincerest friend is most delightful. XXIV. But while nature declares by so many indications what she likes, seeks after, and requires ; yet we turn, 1 know not how, a deaf ear, nor do we listen to those admon itions which we receive from her. For the intercourse of friendship is various and manifold, and many occasions are presented of suspicion and offense, which it is the part of a wise man sometimes to wink at, sometimes to make light of, or at others to endure. This one ground of offense must be mitigated in order that truth and sincerity in friendship may be preserved; for friends require to be advised and to be' reproved : and such treatment ought to be taken in a friendly spirit, when it is kindly meant. But somehow or other it is very true, what my dear friend Terence says in his Andria I1 " Complaisance begets friends, but truth ill-will." Truth is grievous, if indeed ill-will arises from it, which is the bane of friendship. But complaisance is much more grievous, because it allows a friend to be precipitated into ruin, by to operate little upon the common classes of mankind, to whose concep tions the present assemblage of things is adequate, and who seldom range beyond those entertainments and vexation which solicit their attention by pressing on their senses." — Rambler, No. 7.

Sir Thomas Browne, also, has a quaint but beautiful passage to the same effect: " Unthinking heads who have not learned to be alone are in a prison to themselves, if they be not also with others ; whereas, on the contrary, they whose thoughts are in a fair and hurry within, are sometimes fain to retire into company to be out of the crowd of them selves. He who must needs have company, must needs have sometimes bad company. Be able to be alone ; lose not the advantage of solitude and the society of thyself; nor be only content but delight to be alone and single with Omnipresency. He who is thus prepared, the day is not uneasy, nor the night black unto him. Darkness may bound his eyes, not his imagination. In his bed he may lie, like Pompey and his sons, in all quarters of the earth ; may speculate the universe, and enjoy the whole world in the hermitage of himself. Thus, the old ascetic Chris tians found a paradise in a desert, and with little converse on earth, held a conversation in heaven ; thus they astronomized in caves, and though they beheld not the stars, had the glory of heaven before them." — Christian Morals, part iii. sec. 9.

1 Andria, a play of Terence, who was a native of Carthage, and sold as a slave to Terentius Lucanus, a Roman senator. He was on terms of intimacy with Scipio, the elder Africanus, and Laelius. He is said to have translated 108 of the comedies of the poet Menander, six only of which are extant. Ho died about B.C. 159.

yielding to his faults.1 But the greatest of all faults is chargeable on him who disregards truth, and thus by com plaisance is led into dishonesty. Accordingly, in managing this whole matter, carefulness and diligence must be employed : first, that our advice may be free from bitterness, anl next, that reproof may be unattended by insult : in our complai sance, however (since I gladly adopt the saying of Terence), let there be a kindness of manner, let flattery, however, the handmaid of vices, be far removed, since it is not only unworthy of a friend, but even of a free man : for you live after one fashion with a tyrant, after another with a friend. *Now where a man's ears are shut against the truth, so that he can not hear the truth from a friend, the welfare of such a one is to be despaired of: for the following remark of Cato is shrewd, as many of his are, " that bitter enemies deserve better at the hands of some, than those friends who seem agreeable : that the former often speak the truth, the latter never." And it is an absurd thing, that those who receive advice, do not experience that annoyance which they ought to

1 " The duty which leads us to seek the moral reformation of our friend wherever we perceive an imperfection that requires to be removed, is, as I have said, the highest duty of friendship, because it is a duty that has for its object the highest good which it is in our power to confer ; and he who refrains from the necessary endeavor, because he fears to give pain to one whom he loves, is guilty of the same weakness which in a case of bodily accident or disease would withhold the salutary potion because it is nauseous, or the surgical operation which is to preserve life, and to preserve it with comfort, because the use of the instrument which is to be attended with relief and happiness implies a little momentary ad dition of suffering. To abstain from every moral effort of this sort in the mere fear of offending, is, from the selfishness of the motive, a still greater breach of duty, and almost, too, a still greater weakness. He whom we truly offend by such gentle admonitions as friendship dictates, admonitions of which the chief authority is sought in the very excel lence of him whom we wish to make still more excellent, is not worthy of the friendship which we have wasted on him ; and if we thus lose his friendship we are delivered from one who could not be sincere in his past professions of regard, and whose treachery therefore we might afterward have had reason to lament. If he be worthy of us he win not love us less, but love us more ; he will feel that we have done that which it was our duty to do, and we shall have the double gratification of witnessing the amendment which we desired, and of knowing that we have con tributed to an effect which was almost like the removal of a vice from ourselves, or a virtue added to our own moral character."— Dr. Brown's " Moral Philosophy," lecture

CHAP. XXY. CICEEO ON FRIENDSHIP. 209 feel, but feel that from which they ought to be free ; for they are not distressed because they have done wrong ; but take it amiss that they are rebuked : whereas, on the contrary, they ought to be sorry for their misconduct, and to be glad at its correction. XXV. As, therefore, both to give and to receive advice is the characteristic of true friendship, and that the one should perform his part with freedom but not harshly, and the other should receive it patiently and not with recrimination ; so it should be considered , that there is no greater bane to friendship than adulation, fawning, and flattery.1 For this vice should be branded under as many names as possible, being that of worthless and designing men, who say every thing with a view of pleasing, and nothing with regard to truth. Now while hypocrisy in all things is blamable (for it does away with all judgment of truth, and adulterates truth itself), so especially is it repugnant to friendship, for it destroys all truth, without which the name of friendship can avail nothing. For since the power of friendship consists in this, that one soul is as it were made of many, how could that take place if there should not be in any one a soul, one and the same always, but fickle, changeable, and manifold? For what can be so pliant, so inconsistent, as the soul of that man, who veers not only to the feelings and wishes, but even to the look and very nod of another. " Does any one say, * No ?' so do I ; says any, ' Yes ?' so do I : in a word, I have

1 " He that is too desirous to be loved," says Dr. Johnson, " will soon learn to flatter ; and when he has exhausted all the variations of honest praise, and can delight no longer with the civility of truth, he will invent new topics of panegyric, and break out into raptures at virtues and beauties conferred by himself. It is scarcely credible to what degree discernment may be dazzled by the mist of pride, and wisdom infatuated by the intoxication of flattery ; or how low the genius may descend by successive gradations of servility, and how swiftly it may fall down the precipice of falsehood. No man can indeed observe without indignation on what names, both of ancient and modern times, the utmost exube rance of praise has been lavished, and by what hands it has been be stowed. It has never yet been found that the tyrant, the plunderer, the oppressor, the most hateful of the hateful, the most profligate of the profligate, have been denied any celebrations which they were willing to purchase, or that wickedness and folly have not found correspondent flatterers through all their subordinations, except when they have been associated with avarice or poverty, and have wanted either inclination or ability to hire a panegyrist." — Rambler, No. 104.

charged myself to assent to every thing,"1 as the same Terence says ; but he speaks in the character of Gnatho,3 and to select a friend of this character is an act of down right folly. And there are many like Gnatho, though his superiors in rank, fortune, and character ; the flattery of such people is offensive indeed, since respectability is associ ated with duplicity. Now, a fawning friend may be distin guished from a true one, and discerned by the employment of diligence, just as every thing which is falsely colored and counterfeit, from what is genuine arid true. The assembly of the people, which consists of the most ignorant persons, yet can decide what difference there is between the seeker after popular applause, the flatterer and the worthless citizen, and one who is consistent, digoified, and worthy. With what flatteries did Curius Papirius lately insinuate himself into the ears of the assembly, when he sought to pass an act to re-elect the tribunes of the people ? I opposed it. But I say nothing of myself ; I speak with greater pleasure con cerning Scipio. 0 immortal gods ! what dignity was his ! what majesty in his speech ! so that you might readily pro nounce him the leader of the Roman people, and not their associate : but you were present, and the speech is still extant : accordingly, this act, meant to please the people, was rejected by the votes of the people. But, to return to myself, you remember when Quintus Maximus, brother of Scipio, and Lucius Mancius were consuls, how popular the sacerdotal act of Caius Licinius Crassus seem to be ; for

1 Shakespeare has exhibited a precisely similar character in the follow ing dialogue between Hamlet and Osrick : —

" Ham. Your bonnet to its right use ; 't is for the head. — Os. I thank your lordship, 't is very hot. — Ham. No, believe me, 't is very cold ; the wind is northerly. — Os. It is indifferent cold, my lord, indeed. — Ham. But yet, methiuks, it is very sultry hot ; or my complexion — Os. Exc«edingly, my lord, it is very sultry, as it were — I can not tell how."— Hamlet, V., Scene 2. So Juvenal too : —

': Natio comosda est. Rides ? Major cachinno Concutitur. Flet, si lachrymas conspexit amici Nee dolet ; igniculum brumae si tempore poscas Accipit endromidem : si dixeris, aestuo, sudat."

Sat. in. Ver. 100-103.

2 Gnatho, a parasite in the Eunuch of Terence

CHAP. XXVL CICERO ON FRIENDSHIP. 211 the election1 of the college was thereby transferred to the presentation of the people. And he first commenced the practice of turning toward the forum, and addressing the people." And yet regard for the immortal gods, under my advocacy, gained an easy triumph over his plausible3 address. Now this occurred in my prsetorship, five years before I was consul ; so that that cause was supported rather by its own importance than by supreme influence.

XXVI. Now, if upon the stage, that is, before the as sembly, where every advantage is given to fictions and imitations, yet the truth prevails (if only it be set forth and illustrated), what ought to be the case in friendship, which is measured according to simple truth ? for in it (as the say ing is) ye see an open heart and show your own also ; you can have nothing faithful, nothing certain ; and you can not love or be loved, since you are uncertain how far it is sin cerely done. And yet that flattery, however pernicious it be, can hurt no one but the man who receives it and is most delighted with himself. Hence it happens that he opens his ears widest to flatteries Avho is a flatterer of him self, and takes the highest delight in himself: no doubt virtue loves herself, for she is best acquainted with herselt* and is conscious how amiable she is : but I am not speaking of virtue, but of a conceit of virtue ; for not so many desire to be endowed with virtue itself, as to seem to be so. Flat- t tery delights such men : when conversation formed to their wishes is addressed to such persons, they think those deceit ful addresses to be the evidence of their merits. This, therefore, is not friendship at all, when one party is unwilling to hear the truth, and the other prepared to speak falsely. Nor would the flattery of parasites in comedies seem to us facetious, unless there were swaggering soldiers also. " Does then Thais pay me many thanks ? It was enough to answer 1 yes, many ;' but he says ' infinite.' " The flatterer always exaggerates that which he, for whose pleasure he speaks, wishes to be great. Although the flattering falsehood may

1 Cooptatio, the election of new members into the priesthood. The different orders of priests were self-elected, so that the proposed law of Cassuus was an infringement of vested rights and privileges.

3 Agere cum populo, to tamper with, or to curry favor with the people.

* Vendibilis, plausible, popular.

212 CICEKO ON FRIENDSHIP. CHAP, xxvu have influence with those who themselves allure and invite it; yet more steady and consistent persons require to be warned that they take care lest they are entrapped by such crafty flattery ; for every one, except the man who is extremely obtuse, observes the person who openly employs adulation. But lest the crafty and insidious man should insinuate him self, you mut be studiously on your guard ; for he is not very easily recognized, seeing that he often flatters by opposing ; and pretending that he quarrels, is fawning all the time, and at last surrenders himself, and allows himself to be beaten : so that he who has been deluded may fancy that he has seen further than the other; for what can be more disgraceful than to be deluded ? And lest this happen, we must be more cautious, as it is said in the Epiclerus, "To-day, above all the foolish old fellows of the comedy, you will have deceived me and played upon me in a most amusing manner." For this is the most foolish character of all in the plays, that of un thinking and credulous old men. But I know not how it is that my address, passing from the friendship of perfect men, that is of the wise (for I speak of that wisdom which seems within the reach of man), has digressed into frivo lous friendships. Wherefore, let me return to that from which I set out, and bring these remarks at length to a con clusion.

XXVII. It is virtue, virtue I say, Caius Fannius, and you, Quintus Mucius that both wins friendship and preserves it ; for in it is found the power of adapting one's self to circum stances, and also steadfastness and consistency ;* and when

1 The necessity of virtue, then, in every bosom of which we resolve to share the feelings, would be sufficiently evident, though we were to con sider those feelings only ; but all the participation is not to be on our part. We are to place confidence, as well as to receive it ; we are not to be comforters only, but sometimes too the comforted ; and our own conduct may require the defense which we are sufficiently ready to afford to the conduct of our friend. Even with respect to the pleasure of the friendship itself, if it be a pleasure on which we set a high value, it is not a slight consideration whether it be fixed on one whose regard is likelr to be as stable as ours, or on one who may in a few months, or perhaps even in a few weeks, withhold from us the very pleasure of that intimacy which before had been profusely lavished on us. In every one of these respects I need not point out to you the manifest superiority of virtue over vice. Virtue only is stable, because virtue only is consistent and the caprice which, under a momentary impulse, begins in eager intimacy

CHAP. XXYIL CICERO ON" FRIENDSHIP. 213 she has exalted herself and displayed her own effulgence, and hath beheld the same and recognized it in another, she moves toward it, and in her turn receives that which is in the other ; from which is kindled love or friendship, for both derive their name from loving ; for to love is nothing else than to be attached to the person whom you love, without any sense of want, without any advantage being sought ; and yet advan tage springs up of itself from friendship, even though you may not have pursued it. f It was with kind feelings of this de scription that I, when young, was attached to those old men, Lucius Paullus, Marcus Cato, Caius Gallus, Publius Nasica* and Tiberius Gracchus,1 the father-in-law of our friend Scipio. This is even more strikingly obvious between perwith one, as it began it from an impulse as momentary with another, will soon find a third, with whom it may again begin it with the same exclusion, for the moment, of every previous attachment. Nothing can be juster than the observation of Rousseau on these hasty starts of kind ness, that, ' he who treats us at first sight like a friend of twenty years' standing, will very probably at the end of twenty years treat us as a stranger if we have any important service to request of him.'

"If without virtue we have little to hope in stability, have we even, while the semblance of friendship lasts, much more to hope as to those services of kindness which we may need from our friends ? The secrets which it may be of no importance to divulge, all may keep with equal fidelity ; because nothing is to be gained by circulating what no man would take sufficient interest in hearing, to remember after it was heard; but if the secret be of a kind which, if made known, would gain the favor of some one whose favor it would be more profitable to gain than retain ours, can we expect fidelity from a mind that thinks only of what is to be gained by vice, in the great social market of moral feelings, not of What it is right to do ? Can we expect consolation in our affliction from xme who regards our adversity only as a sign that there is nothing more to be hoped from our intimacy ; or trust our virtues to the defense of him who defends or assails, as interest prompts, and who may see his interest in representing us as guilty of the very crimes with which slander has loaded us ? In such cases we have no title to complain of the treacheries of friendship; for it was not friendship in which we trusted : the treachery is as much the fault of the deceived as of the de ceiver ; we have ourselves violated some of the most important duties of friendship; the duties which relate to its commencement." — Moral Philosophy, Lect. Ixxxix.

1 7! Gracchus, who with his brother, C. Gracchus, excited great tu mults about the Agrarian law. He was slain for his seditious conduct by P. Nasica. His name has passed into a by-word for a factious dema gogue. It is thus applied by Juvenal : —

" Quis tulerit Gracchos de seditione querentes !"

2H CICEEO ON FRIENDSHIP. CHAP. xxvn.

sons of the same age, as between me and Scipio, Lucius Furius, Publius Rupilius, and Spurius Mumrnius: and now in turn, in my old age I repose in the attachment of younger men, as in yours and that of Quintus Tubero ; nay, I even take delight in the familiarity of some that are very young, o£ Publius Rutilius and Aulius Virginius, And since the course of our life and nature is so directed that a new period is ever arising, it is especially to be wished that with those comrades with whom you set out, as it were, from the start ing, with the same you may, as they say, arrive at the goal. pBut, since human affairs are frail and fleeting, some persons must ever be sought for whom we may love, and by whom we may be loved ; for when affection and kind feeling are done away with, all cheerfulness likewise is banished from existence. To me, indeed, though he was suddenly snatched away, Scipio still lives, and will always live ; for I love the virtue of that man, and that worth is not yet extinguished : and not before my eyes only is it presented, who ever had it in possession, but even with posterity it will be illustrious and renowned ; for never shall any undertake any high achievements with spirit and hope, without feeling that. the memory and the character of that man should be placed before him. Assuredly, of all things that either fortune or nature has bestowed on me, I have none which I can compare with the friendship of Scipio.1 In' it I had concurrence in politics, and in it advice for my private affairs. In it also,

1 This confession is not confined to Cicero or his age. Lord Clarendon was often heard to say, " that next to the immediate blessing and provi dence of God Almighty, which had preserved him throughout the whole course of this life from many dangers and disadvantages, in which many other young men were lost, he owed all the little he knew, and the little good that was in him, to the friendship and conversation he still had been used to, of the most excellent men in their several kinds that lived in that age, by whose learning and information and instruction he form ed his studies and mended his understanding, and by whose example he formed his manners, subdued that pride, and suppressed that heat and passion he was naturally inclined to be transported with: and always charged his children to follow his example in that point, protesting, that in the whole course of his life he never knew one man, of what condition soever, arrive to any degree of reputation in the world, who made choice or delighted in the company or conversation of those who, in their quali ties and their parts were not much superior to himself." — Clarendon's Memoirs of his own Life.

CHAP, rrvif CICERO ON FRIENDSHIP.. 215

I possessed a repose replete with pleasure. Never in the slightest degree did I offend him, at least so far as I was aware ; never did I myself hear a word from him that I was unwilling to hear : we had one house between us, the same food, and that common to both ; and not only service abroad, but even our traveling and visits to the country were in com mon. *For what need I say of our constant pursuits of knowl edge and learning, in which, retired from the eyes of the world, we spent all our leisure time ? Now, if the recollection and memory of these things had died along with him, I could in no wise have borne the loss of that most intimate and affec tionate friend ; but these things have not perished, yea, they are rather cherished and improved by reflection and memory ; * and even if I were altogether bereft of them, yet would age itself bring me much comfort, for I can not now very long suf fer these regrets. Now all afflictions, if brief, ought to be tolerable, howsoever great they may be. Such are the remarks I had to make on friendship. But as for you, I exhort you to lay the foundations of virtue, without which friendship can not exist, in such a manner that, with this one exception, you may consider that nothing in the world is more excellent than friendship.

1 " The pleasures resulting from the mutual attachment of kindred spirits are by no means confined to the moments of personal intercourse ; they diffuse their odors, though more faintly, through the seasons of absence, refreshing and exhilarating the mind by the remembrance of the past and the anticipation of the future. It is a treasure possessed when