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HARPER'S CLASSICAL LIBRARY.

C I C E R O'S
THREE BOOKS OF OFFICES,

OTHER MORAL WORKS.

II

.

CICERO'S
THREE BOOKS OF OFFICES,

OE MOEAL DUTIES;

CATO MAJOE, AN ESSAY ON OLD AGE; L^ELIUS, AN ESSAY

ON FRIENDSHIP; PARADOXES; SCIPIO'S DREAM;

AND LETTER TO QUINTUS ON THE

DUTIES OF A MAGISTRATE.

fflnnuhtd,

VJTB XOTES, DESIGNED TO EXHIBIT A COMPARATIVE VIEW OF THE OPINIONS
OF CIOEEO, AND THOSE OF MODERN MORALISTS AND ETHICAL

BY CYKUS K: EDMONDS.

NEW YORK:

HARPER & BROTHERS,

329 & 831 PEARL STREET.
1860.

pft

ft*

Harper's New Classical Library.

Comprising Literal Translations of

OESAR. JUVENAL.

VIRGIL. XENOPHON.

HORACE. HOMER'S ILIAD.

SALLUST. THUCYDIDES. 2 vol&

CICERO'S ORATIONS. HERODOTUS.

CICERO'S OFFICES, &c. EURIPIDES. 2 vols.

CICERO ON ORATORY, &C. SOPHOCLES.

TACITUS. 2 vols. .JESCHYLUS.

TERENCE. DEMOSTHENES. 2 voli.

12mo, Muslin, 75 cents a Volume.

PREFACE.

THE present volume comprises the most popular moral treatises
of Cicero. In preparing an edition adapted to the wants of the
student, the editor has addressed himself to two principal objects.
The first, to produce a close and faithful translation, avoiding on
the one hand, the freedom of Melmoth's elegant paraphrase, and
on the other, the crudeness and inaccuracy of the so-called literal
translation of Cockman ; the second, to present the opinions of
modern moralists, chiefly of our own country, in juxtaposition
with those of Cicero, that the reader may be enabled to estimate
the changes which have passed over the human mind in relation
to these subjects, and perceive how far these changes have been
occasioned by the promulgation of the Christian religion.

A subsidiary design has been to show, by parallel passages, to
what extent the writings of modern moralists have been tinctured
with the thoughts of the Roman philosopher ; and to point out
particular instances in which their arguments and illustrations are
identical.

In briefly sketching the subjects of the following treatises, we
shall for the most part adopt the observations of Dunlop, in his
*' History of Roman Literature." The first, and most important
treatise, is

THE OFFICES, or three books of " Moral Duties." Of these the
first two are supposed to be chiefly derived from a lost work of
Pansotius, a Greek philosopher, who resided at Rome in the second
century before Christ. In the first book he treats of what i&
virtuous in itself, and shows in what manner our duties are

vi PREFACE.

founded in morality and virtue, in the right perception of truth,
justice, fortitude, and decorum, which four qualities are referred
to as the constituent parts of virtue, and the sources from which
all our duties are derived. In the second book, the author en
larges on those duties which relates to utility, the improvement
of life, and the means of attaining wealth and power. This divi
sion of the work relates principally to political advancement, and
the honorahle means of gaining popularity, among which are
enumerated generosity, courtesy, and eloquence. Thus far Cicero
had, in all probability, closely followed the steps of Pan£etius.
Garve, in his commentary on Moral Duties, remarks that, when
Cicero comes to the more subtle and philosophic parts of his sub
ject, he evidently translates from the Greek, and that he has not
always found words in his own language to express the nicer dis
tinctions of the Greek schools. The work of Pana3tius, however,
was left imperfect, and did not comprise the third part of the
subject, namely, the choice and distinction to be made when
virtue and utility were opposed to each other. On this topic, ac
cordingly, Cicero, in the third book, was left to his own resources ;
the discussion, of course, relates only to the subordinate duties, as
the true and undoubted honestum can never be put in competition
with private advantage, or be violated for its sake. As to the
minor duties the great maxim inculcated is, that nothing should
be accounted useful or profitable but what is strictly virtuous ;
and that, in fact, there ought to be no separation of the principles
of virtue and utility. Cicero enters into some discussion how
ever, and lays down certain rules to enable us to form a just
estimate of both in cases of doubt, where seeming utility comes
into competition with virtue.

The author has addressed the work to his son, and has repre
sented it as written for his instruction. "It is," says Kelsall,
" the noblest present ever made by a parent to a child." Cicerc
declares that he intended to treat in it of all the duties, but it is
generally considered to have been chiefly drawn up as a manual
of political morality, and as a guide to young Romans of his son's
age and rank, which might enable them to attain political emi-'
nence, and tread with innocence and safety " the slippery steeps'
of power,'

PREFACE. vii

The DIALOGUE ON FKIENDSHIP is addressed with peculiar pro
priety to Atticus, who, as Cicero tells him in his dedication, can
not fail to discover his own portrait in the delineation of a perfect
friend. Here, as elsewhere, Cicero has most judiciously selected
the persons of the dialogue. They were men of eminence in the
state, and, though deceased, the Romans had such veneration for
their ancestors, that they would listen with the utmost interest
even to the imaginary conversation of a Sca3vola or a Lselius.
The memorable and hereditary friendship which subsisted between
Leelius and the younger Scipio Africanus, rendered the former a
suitable example. To support a conversation on this delightful
topic, Fannius the historian, and Mucius Scaavola the augur, both
sons-in-law of Laelius, are supposed to pay a visit to their father
immediately after the sudden and suspicious death of Scipio
Africanus. The recent loss which Lselius had thus sustained,
leads to an eulogy on the inimitable virtues of the departed hero,
and to a discussion on the true nature of that tie by which they
had been so long connected. Cicero, in early youth, had been
introduced by his father to Mucius Scsevola, and, among other in
teresting conversations which he thus enjoyed an opportunity of
hearing, he was one day present while Scsavola related the sub
stance of the conference on Friendship, which he and Fannius
had held with Leelius a few days after the death of Scipio. Many
of the ideas and sentiments which Lselius uttered are declared by
Scaavola to have originally flowed from Scipio, with whom the
nature and laws of friendship formed a favorite topic This, per
haps, is not entirely a fiction, or merely asserted to give the stamp
of authenticity to the dialogue.

The TREATISE ON OLD AGE is not properly a dialogue, but a
continued discourse delivered by Cato the censor at the request of
Scipio and La3lius. It is undoubtedly one of the most interesting
pieces of the kind which have descended to us from antiquity ;
and no reader can wonder that the pleasure experienced in its
composition, not only, as he says, made him forget the infirmities
of old age, but even rendered that portion of existence agreeable.
In consequence of the years to which Cicero had attained at the
time of its composition, and the circumstances in which he was
then placed, it must indeed have been composed with peculiar

viii PREFACE.

interest and feeling. It was written by him when he was sixty-three,
and is addressed to his friend Atticus (who had nearly reached the
same age), with a view of rendering their accumulating burdens
as light as possible. In order to give his precepts the greater
force, he represents them as delivered by the elder Oato, in the
eighty-fourth year of a vigorous and useful old age, on the occa
sion of Lsslius and the younger Scipio expressing their admiration
at the wonderful ease with which he still bore the weight of
years. This affords the author an opportunity of entering into a
full explanation of his ideas on the subject, his great object being
to show that by internal resources of happiness the closing period
may be rendered not only supportable but comfortable. He enu
merates those causes which are commonly supposed to constitute
the infelicity of advanced age under four general heads : that it
incapacitates from mingling in the affairs of the world ; that it
produces infirmities of the body • that it disqualifies for the en
joyment of sensual gratifications ; and that it brings us to the
verge of death. Some of these disadvantages he maintains are
imaginary, and for any real pleasures of which old men are de
prived, he shows that many others more refined and elevated may
be substituted. The whole work is agreeably diversified, and
illustrated by examples.

The PARADOXES contain a defense of six peculiar opinions or
paradoxes of the Stoics, something in the manner of those which
Cato was wont to promulgate in the senate. These are, that what
is morally right (honestum) is alone good ; that the virtuous can
want nothing for complete happiness ; that there are no degrees
either in crimes or good actions ; that every fool is mad ; that the
wise alone are wealthy and free ; and that every fool is a slave.
The Paradoxes, indeed, seem to have been written as an exercise
of rhetorical wit, rather than as a serious disquisition in philoso
phy, and each is personally applied to some individual.

The narrative, entitled SCIPIO^S DREAM is put into the mouth
of the younger Scipio A-fricanus, who relates that, in his youth,
when he first served in Africa, he visited the court of Massinissa,
the steady friend of the Romans, and particularly of the Corne
lian family. During the feasts and entertainments of the day, the
conversation turned on the words and actions of the first great

PREFACE. ix

Scipio. His adopted son having retired to rest, the shade of the
departed hero appeared to him in a vision, and darkly foretelling
the future events of his life, encouraged him to tread in the paths
of patriotism and true glory; announcing the'reward provided in
heaven for those who have deserved well of their country.

The circumstances of time and place selected for this dream, as
well as the characters introduced, have been most felicitously
chosen ; and Cicero has nowhere more happily united sublimity
of thought with brilliant imagination.

The letter, ON THE DUTIES OF A MAGISTRATE, is one of the most
remarkable of the kind that has ever been penned. It was ad
dressed by Cicero to his brother Quintus, on the occasion of his
government in Asia being prolonged to a third year. Availing
himself of the rights of an elder brother, as well as of the
authority derived from his superior dignity and talents, Cicero
counsels and exhorts him concerning the due administration of his
province, particularly with regard to the choice of his subordinate
officers, and the degree of trust to be reposed in them. He
earnestly reproves him, but with much fraternal tenderness and
affection, for his irritability of temper ; and concludes with a beau
tiful exhortation to strive in all respects to merit the praise of hia
cotemporaries, and bequeath to posterity an unsullied name.

CONTENTS.

PAGE

PREFACE v

OFFICES, OR MORAL DUTIES, BOOK I. 1

OFFICES, OR MORAL DUTIES, BOOK II 7t

OFFICES, OR MORAL DUTIES, BOOK III 115

L^LIUS, AN ESSAY ON FRIENDSHIP 169

CATO MAJOR, AN ESSAY ON OLD AGE 216

PARADOXES 263

SCIPIO'S DREAM 288

LETTER TO QUINTUS ON THE DUTIES OF A MAGISTRATE . . 306

INDEX 329

CICEEO DE OFFICIIS :

A
TREATISE CONCERNING THE MORAL DUTIES OF MANKIND.

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 pro-

1

2 CICERO'S OFFICES. BOOK i.

priety, 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-

4 CICERO'S OFFICES. BOOK L

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,

6 CICERO'S OFFICES. BOOK L

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 per-

appeared 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."

8 CICERO'S OFFICES. BOOK i.

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.

10 CICERO'S OFFICES. BOOKL

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.

12 CICERO'S OFFICES. BOOK i.

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.

14 CICERO'S OFFICES. BOO&I.

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

16 CICERO'S OFFICES. BOOK i.

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 forgetful-
ness 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 considera-
rations 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

18 CICERO'S OFFICES. BOOK i.

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 longin-
quitas 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

20 CICERO'S OFFICES. BOOK i.

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 Nu-
mantia. 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.

22 CICERO'S OFFICES. BOOK L

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

24 CICERO'S OFFICES. BOOK i

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 impon-
entis."— 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

26 CICERO'S OFFICES. . BOOK i.

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/

28 CICERO'S OFFICES. BOOK L

; 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

30 CICERO'S OFFICES. BOOK i.

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 excel-

refutation 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 the-
general 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 agree-

nite 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 Atti-
cus 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."

32 CICERO'S OFFICES. BOOK L

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

2*

34 CICERO'S OFFICES. BOOK i.

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;

36 CICERO'S OFFICES. BOOK i.

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.

38 CICERO'S OFFICES. BOOK I.

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.

40 CICERO'S OFFICES. BOOK i.

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*

42 CICERO'S OFFICES. BOOS I.

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, Calli-
cratidas, 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.

44 CICERO'S OFFICES. BOOK i.

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.

I

46 CICERO'S OFFICES. BOOK I,

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 be-
lieved 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 sup-
pose 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.

,

be be- i
calmly .j(

c/V/i
; I sup-* ^

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

48 CICERO'S OFFICES. BOOK i.

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

3

50 CICERO'S OFFICES. BOOK I.

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 pu-
dore 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 verecun-
dia 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 promul-
gator, 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."

52 CICERO'S OFFICES. BOOKI.

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 dis-
dinction, 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

54 CICERO'S OFFICES. BOOKL

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 Themis-
tocles, 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 blam-
able, 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

56 CICERO'S OFFICES. BOOK i.

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

CHAP. TTTT. CICERO'S OFFICES. 5f

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.

3*

58 CICERO'S OFFICES. BOOK I.

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, Timo-
theus, 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

CHAP. TTTTTT. CICERO'S OFFICES. 59

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 Jove-
begotten 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.

60 CICERO'S OFFICES. BOOK i.

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 listless-
ness 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.

62 CICERO'S OFFICES. BOOKL

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

64 CICERO'S OFFICES. BOOK i.

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 sloven-
ness. 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 good-
humored, 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 self-
conceit, 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 ex-

66 CICERO'S OFFICES. BOOK i.

greatest 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 re-
later 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.

68 CICERO'S OFFICES. BOOK. I.

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 prsetoi-
ship 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 dis-
tingnishing times.

But those actions that are in wide discrepancy with good-
breeding, 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 ;

72 CICERO'S OFFICES. BOOK i.

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."

4

74 CICERO'S OFFICES. BOOK I.

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 contrib-
uto 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 coin-
try ; 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

76 CICERO'S OFFICES. BOOK i.

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

78 CICERO'S OFFICES, BOOK n.

to do when our government existed, have employed my labors in
action rather than in writing ; and in the next place, in my wi it-
ings 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

80 CICERO'S OFFICES. BOOK H.

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.

4*

82 CICERO'S OFFICES BOOK n.

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 pro-
ordered 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 do-
sire 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.

84 CICERO'S OFFICES. BOOK n.

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.

86 CICERO'S OFFICES. BOOK n.

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.

88 CICERO'S OFFICES. BOOK u.

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 fellow-
citizens ; 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 im-

90 CICERO'S OFFICES. BOOK n.

plies that a man maybe just but not at the SSIIK> tim? p:u-
dent ; 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 un-
measurably 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

92 CICERO'S OFFICES. BOOK n.

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 char-

94 CICERO'S OFFICES. BOOK n.

amples 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

96 CICERO'S OFFICES. BOOK n.

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. The-
ferity 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

98 CICERO'S OFFICES. BOOK u.

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 Amer-
inus, 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

100 CICERO'S OFFICES. BOOK n.

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.

102 CICERO'S OFFICES. BOOK n.

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.

104 CICERO'S OFFICES. BOOK n.

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 Theo-
phrastus. 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 pve-
sumption. 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 bestow-
ing 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

106 CICERO'S OFFICES. BOOK n.

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 estab-

108 CICERO'S OFFICES. BOOK n.

lished 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 self-
denying. 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.

112 CICERO'S OFFICES. BOOK n.

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

114 CICERO'S OFFICES. BOOKIL

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 senate-
house 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 <

116 CICERO'S OFFICES BOOK in.

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

118 CICERO'S OFFICES. BOOK m.

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 Greece-

120 CICERO'S OFFICES. BOOK m.

regarding 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 ex-

seded, 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.

6

122 CICERO'S OFFICES. BOOK 111.

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.

CHAP.V. CICERO'S OFFICES. 123

(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.

124 CICERO'S OFFICES. BOOK in.

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 fellow-
citizens, 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-for-
nothing 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.

126 CICERO'S OFFICES. BOOK in.

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 Tele-
machus, 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.

128 CICERO'S OFFICES. BOOK in.

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.

130 CICERO'S OFFICES. BOOK nr.

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.

132 CICERO'S OFFICES. BOOK m.

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 ^Egi-
netans, 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

134 CICERO'S OFFICES. BOOK in.

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 ;

136 CICERO'S OFFICES. BOOK m.

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 corn-
merchant'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 watering-
place ; 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 corn-
merchant, absolves him also from any offense against the laws of benev
olence and humanity. In this opinion his ingenious commentator, Bar-
beyrac, 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 En-
nius 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.

140 CICERO'S OFFICES. BOOK in.

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."

142 CICERO'S OFFICES. BOOK m.

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

144 CICERO'S OFFICES. BOOK irr.

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.

7

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 recor-
dari. Nee vero fieri ullo modo posse ut a pueris tot rerum atque tanta-
rum 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.

148 CICERO'S OFFICE^; BOOK m

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 father-
in-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 Phoe-
nissse,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

150 CICERO'S OFFICES. BOOK in.

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

152 CICERO'S OFFICES. BOOK m.

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 be-
stower 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.

154 CICERO'S OFFICES. BOOK in.

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

158 CICERO'S OFFICES. BOOK ra.

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

160 CICERO'S OFFICES. BOOK in.

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,

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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

164 CICERO'S OFFICES. BOOK m:

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

166 CICERO'S OFFICES. BOOK in.

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.

168 CICERO'S OFFICES. BOOK in.

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.

8

170 CICERO ON FRIENDSHIP. CHAP. r.

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

172 CICERO ON FRIENDSHIP. CHAP. n.

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.

174 CICERO ON FRIENDSHIP. CHAP. m.

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 extin-
guisheth 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 unsuit-
ablenesa 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."

176 CICERO ON FRIENDSHIP. CHAP. IY.

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." — Re-
ligio 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.

8*

178 CICERO ON FRIENDSHIP. CHAP. v.

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.

180 CICERO ON FRIENDSHIP. CHAP. vi.

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 thing-
better 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.

182 CICERO ON FRIENDSHIP. CHAP.YII.

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 de-

184 CICERO ON FRIENDSHIP. CHAP. ix.

stroyed 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

186 CICERO OX FRIENDSHIP. CHAP. xi.

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 covet-
ousness 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 Grac-

188 CICERO ON FRIENDSHIP. CHAP. xn.

elms, 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.

190 CICERO ON FRIENDSHIP. CHAP. XIIL

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

192 CICERO ON FRIENDSHIP. CHAP. xiv.

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.

9

194 CICERO ON FRIENDSHIP. CHAP. rn.

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 penu-
riously, 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.

196 CICERO ON FRIENDSHIP. CHAP. rrn.

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 fellow-
countrymen 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.

198 CICERO ON FBIENDSHIP. CHAP, m

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

200 CICERO ON FRIENDSHIP. CHAP. xx.

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 Numan-
tines, 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.

202 CICERO ON" FRIENDSHIP. CHAP. xxii.

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.

204 CICERO ON FRIENDSHIP. CHAP. zxm.

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 ill-
nature. 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 in-
cubat 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.

208 CICERO ON FRIENDSHIP. CHAP. xxir.

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.

210 CICERO ON FRIENDSHIP. CHAP. xxv.

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. Ex-
c«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 per-

with 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
it is not employed — a reserve of strength, ready to be called into action
when most needed — a fountain of sweets, to which we may continually
repair, whose waters are inexhaustible." — Robert Hall's Funeral Sermon
for Dr. Ryland.

ON OLD AGE.

" O TITUS, 1 if I sliall have assisted you at all, or alleviated
tlie anxiety which now fevers, and, fixed in your heart, distracts
you, shall I have any reward ?"

I. For I may address you, Atticus, in the same lines in
which he addresses Flaminius,

"That man, not of great property, but rich in integrity."
And yet I am very sure that not, as Flaminius,

" Are you, 0 Titus, so racked by anxiety night and day :"

for I know the regularity and even temperament of your
mind ; and I am well aware that you have derived not only
your surname from Athens, but also refinement and wisdom ;
and yet I suspect that you are sometimes too deeply affected
by the same causes by which I myself am ; the consolation of
which is of a higher kind, and requires to be put off to
another occasion.2 But at present I have thought it good to

1 Titus Pomponius Atticus, to whom this treatise is addressed, was a
celebrated Roman knight. Cicero wrote to him a number of letters which
still survive. He was surnamed Atticus from his perfect knowledge of
the Greek language and literature. A minute account of his life has
been written by Cornelius Nepos, one of his intimate friends.

2 " This alludes to the disordered state of the commonwealth occasion
ed by Julius Caesar's usurpation, and the commotion consequent on his
death ; the present treatise having been written soon after he was assas
sinated in the senate. No man had more at stake in these public con
vulsions than Cicero ; and nothing sets the power of his mind in a moro
striking point of view than his being able, at such an alarming crisis,
sufficiently to compose his thoughts to meditations of this kind. For
not only this treatise, but his Essay on Friendship, his dialogues on the
Nature of the Gods, together with those concerning Divination, as also
his book of Offices, and some other of the most considerable of his philo
sophical writings, were drawn up within the same turbulent and dis
tracted period." — Melmoth.

CHAP. IL CICERO ON OLD AGE. 217

write to you something on Old Age ; for of this burden which
I have in common with you of old age, either now weighing
upon, or at any rate approaching us, I wish both you and
myself to be relieved, although I am very sure that you
indeed bear it, and will bear it, with temper and wisdom (as
you do all things). But to my mind, when I was about to
write an essay on old age, you occurred as worthy of a gift,
which each of us might enjoy in common. For my part I
have found the composition of this book so delightful, that it
has not only wiped off all the annoyance of old age, but has
rendered old age even easy and delightful. Never, therefore,
can philosophy be praised in a manner sufficiently worthy,
inasmuch as he who obeys philosophy is able to pass every
period of life without irksomeness. But upon other subjects
we both have discoursed much, and often shall discourse : this
book, on the subject of old age, I have sent to you. And all
the discourse we have assigned not to Tithonus,1 as Aristo2 the
Chian did, lest there should be too little of authority in the
tale ; but to Marcus Cato,3 when an old man, that the dis
course might carry with it the greater weight ; at whose house
we introduce Lselius* and Scipio, expressing their wonder that
he so patiently bears old age, and him replying to them. And
if he shall appear to discourse more learnedl}' than he himself
was accustomed to do in his own books, ascribe it to Greek
literature, of which it is well known that he was very studious
in old age. But what need is there to say more ? for now the
conversation of Cato himself shall unfold all my sentiments on
old age.

II. SCIPIO. I am very often accustomed with my friend
here, C. Laelius, to admire as well your surpassing and ac
complished wisdom in all other matters, O Marcus Cato, as
also especially that I have never perceived old age to be

1 Tithonus, son of Laomedon, king of Troy. He was carried away by
Aurora, who made him immortal.

2 Aristo, a philosopher of Chios, a pupil of Zeno the Stoic.

3 M. Cato. M. Porcius Cato was a Roman censor, famed for the strict
ness of his morals. He died at an advanced age, about B.C. 151. He
wrote a work called " Origines," «'. e., antiquities, some fragments of
which are still extant.

4 Lodium. C. Lselius, a Roman consul, A.U.C. 614. He was the inti
mate friend of Africanua the younger, and is the principal character in
Cicero's treatise, " De Ainicitia."

10

218 CICERO ON OLD AGE. CHAP. n.

burdensome to you ; which to most old men is so disagree
able, that they say they support a burden heavier than JEtna.
CATO. It is not a very difficult matter, Scipio, and Lselius,
which you seem to be surprised at; for to those who have
no resource in themselves for living well and happily, every
age is burdensome ; but to those who seek all good things
from themselves, nothing can appear evil which the necessity
of nature entails ; in which class particularly is old age, which
all men wish to attain, and yet they complain of it when they
have attained it ; so great is the inconsistency and wayward
ness of folly. They say that it steals over them more quickly
than they had supposed. Now, first of all, who compelled
them to form a false estimate of its progress ? for how does
old age more quickly steal upon youth, than youth upon boy
hood ? Then, again, how would old age be less burdensome to
them, if they were in their 800th year than in their 80th ? for
the past time, however long, when it had flowed away, would
not be able to soothe with any consolation an old age of folly.
"Wherefore, if you are accustomed to admire my wisdom —
and I would that it were worthy of your high opinion and
my surname — in this I am wise that I follow nature, that
1 -ost guide, as a god, and am obedient to her ; a by whom it
).L not likely, when the other parts of life have been well
s\ presented, that the last act should have been ill done, as it
vere, by an indolent poet. But yet it was necessary that there
-lould be something final, and, as in the berries of trees and
i he fruits of the earth, something withered and falling through
reasonable ripeness ; which must be taken quietly by a wise
man : for what else is it, to war with nature, than, after the
manner of the giants, to fight with the gods ? LSELIUS. But,
Gato, you will do a very great favor to us, as I may also
engage on behalf of Scipio, if inasmuch as we hope, or at

1 " The acknowledgment of the intention of the Creator as the proper
rule of man's actions, has sometimes been expressed by saying that men
ought to live according to nature, and that virtue and duty are according
to nature, vice and moral transgression contrary to nature ; for man's
nature is ^constitution in which reason and desire are elements, but of
these elements it was plainly intended that reason should control desire,
not that desire should overmaster reason." — Whewell's Elements of
Morality, book iv. cap. 10.

Seneca also has a similar idea: "Quid enim aliud est natura quam
deus et divina ratio toti mundo et partibus ejus inserta." — De Benef. iv. 7.

CHAP.ra. CICEEO ON OLD AGE. 219

least desire, to become old men, we shall have learned long
before from you by what methods we may most easily be
able to bear the increasing -burden of age. CATO. Well, I
will do so, Lselius ; especially if, as you say, it is likely to be
pleasant to each of you. SCIPIO. In truth we wish, unless
it be irksome, Cato, just as if you had completed some long
journey, on which we also must enter, to see of what nature
that spot is at which you have arrived.

III. CATO. I will do it as well as I shall be able, Lselius ;
for I have often been present at the complaints of men of my
own age (and equals with equals, according to the old proverb,
most easily flock together), and have heard the things which
Caius Salinator and Spurious Albinus, men of consular rank,
and nearly of my age, were wont to deplore : on the one hand,
that they had no pleasures, without which they thought life
was valueless ; on the other, that they were neglected by those
by whom they had been accustomed to be courted, in which
they appeared to me not to accuse that which deserved ac
cusation ; for if that happened from the fault of old age, the
same things would be experienced by me and all others
advanced in years : and yet the old age of many of them I
have remarked to be without complaint, who were not
grieved to be let free from the thralldom of the passions, and
were not looked down upon by their friends ; but of all com
plaints of this kind, the fault lies in the character of the man,
not in his age. For old men of regulated minds, and neither
testy nor ill-natured, pass a very tolerable old age. But a
discontented and ill-natured disposition is irksome in every
age.1 LSELIUS. It is as you say, Cato. But perhaps some

1 "It may very reasonably be suspected that the old draw upon them
selves the great part of those insults which they so much lament ; and
that age is rarely despised but when it is contemptible. If men imagine
that excess of debauchery can be made reverend by tune ; that knowledge
is the consequence of long life, however idly and thoughtlessly employ
ed ; 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 ?

"He that would pass the latter part of life with honor and decency,
must, when he is young, consider that he shall one day be old ; and re
member, when he is old, that he has once been young. In youth he must
lay up knowledge for his support, when his powers of acting shall forsake
him ; and in age forbear to animadvert with rigor on faults which expe
rience only can correct."— Johnson's Rambler, No. 60.

220 CICERO ON OLD AGE. CHAP. IT.

one may say, that to you, on account of your wealth, and
resources, and dignity, old age appears better to endure, but
that this can not be the lot of many. CATO. That to be sure,
Lselius, is something, but all things are by no means involved
in it : as Theinistoeles is said to have replied to a certain man
of Seriphus1 in a dispute, when the other had said that he had
gained distinction, not by his own glory, but by that of his
country ; neither, by Hercules, said he, if I had been a man
of Seriphus, should I ever have been eminent, nor if you
had been an Athenian, would you ever have been renowned.
Which, in like manner, can be said about old age. For
neither can old age be easy in extreme poverty, not even to
a wise man ; nor to a foolish man, even in the greatest
plenty, otherwise than burdensome. The fittest arms of old
age, Scipio and Lselius, are the attainment and practice of
the virtues ; which, if cultivated at every period of life, pro
duce wonderful fruits when you have lived to a great age ;
not only, inasmuch as they never fail, not even in the last
period of life — and yet that is a very great point — but also
because the consciousness of a life well spent, and the recol
lection of many virtuous actions, is most delightful.2

IV. I, when a young man, was as fond of Quintus Maxi-
inus,3 the same who recovered Tarentum, though an old
man, as if he had been one of my own age. For there

1 Seriphus was a barren island, or rock, in the JEgean Sea, used by
the Romans as a place of banishment for criminals :

"Cui vix in Cyclada mitti
Contigit, et parva tandem caruisse Seripho."

Juvenal, 6th Sat. 56. lib. iii.

2 "As ±o all the rational and worthy pleasures of our being, the con
science of a good fame, the contemplation of another life, the respect and
commerce of honest men ; our capacities for such enjoyments are enlarged
by years. While health endures, the latter part of life, in the eye of
reason, is certainly the more eligible. The memory of a well-spent youth
gives a peaceable, unmixed, and elegant pleasure to the mind ; and to
such who are so unfortunate as not to be able to look back on youth
with satisfaction, they may give themselves no little consolation that
they are under no temptation to repeat their follies, and that they at
present despise them."— -Spectator, No. 153.

3 Quintus Maximus, a Roman general of the Fabian family, who re
ceived the surname of Cunctator from his harassing Hannibal by delays.
After the battle of Cannae, he retook Tarentum from the Carthaginians.
Virgil alludes to him in a passage quoted from Ennius, in tho JBneid,
Book vi. 846, "Unus qui nobis cunctando restituit rem."

CHAP. iv. CICERO ON OLD AGE. 221

was in that man dignity refined by courtesy ; nor had old
age changed his character. And yet I began to cultivate
his acquaintance when he was not a very old man, but still
when somewhat advanced in age. For he had been consul
for the first time in the year after I was born, and in his
fourth consulship I, then a stripling, marched with him as
a soldier to Capua, and in the fifth year after, as quaestor to
Tarentum ; I was next made sedile, and four years afterward
praetor, an office which I held in the consulship of Tudi-
tanus1 and Cethegus, when he, a very old man, was the
promoter of the Cincian3 law, about fees and presents. He
both carried on campaigns like a young man when he was
quite old, and by his temper cooled Hannibal when im
petuous from the fire of youth, about whom our friend
Ennius has admirably spoken : — " Who alone, by delay re
trieved our state ; for he did not value rumor above our
safety, therefore brighter and brighter is now the glory of
that man." And with what vigilance, with what talent did
he recover Tarentum ? When too, in my hearing, as Sali-
nator, who, after losing the town, had taken refuge in the
citadel, was boasting and speaking thus : " It was owing to my
exertions, Quintus Fabius, that you recovered Tarentum."
" Unquestionably," said he, laughing, " for unless you had lost
it, I should never have regained it." Nor in truth was he more
excellent in arms than in civil affairs; for, in his second
consulship, when Spurius Carvilius, his colleague, was neuter,
he made a stand to the utmost of his power against Caius
Flaminius, tribune of the commons, when he was for dis
tributing the Picenian and Gallic land to individuals, con
trary to the authority of the senate ; and when he was augur,
he had the spirit to say that those things were performed
with the best auspices which were performed for the welfare
of the commonwealth ; that those things which were un
dertaken against the commonwealth were undertaken in
opposition to the auspices.3 Many excellent points have I

1 Consulilus Tuditano, etc. A.u.C. 550.

2 A law enacted by M. Cincius, tribune of the people, A.tr.c. 549. By
this law no one was allowed to receive a present for pleading a cause.

3 "Homer," says Melmoth, "puts a sentiment of the same spirited
kind into the mouth of Hector. That gallant prince, endeavoring to
force the Grecian intrenchmeuts, is exhorted by Polydamas to discon
tinue the attack, on occasion of an unfavorable omen which appears on

222 CICERO ON OLD AGE. CHAP.Y.

remarked in that man : but there is nothing more deserving
of admiration than the way in which he bore the death of
his son Marcus, an illustrious man, and one of consular rank.
The panegyric he pronounced is still in our hands ; which
when we read, what philosopher do we not despise ? nor,
in truth, was he great only in public and in the eyes of
his fellow-citizens, but still more admirable in private and
at home. What conversation ! what maxims ! what deep
acquaintance with ancient history! what knowledge of the
law of augury ! his learning too, for a Roman, was extensive.
He retained in memory all, not only domestic but foreign
wars; and I at that time enjoyed his conversation with as
much avidity as if I was already divining that which came
to pass, that when he was gone, there would be none other
for me to learn from.

V. To what end then do I say so much about Maximus 1
because doubtless you see that it is quite wrong to say that
such an old age was miserable. Still, all men can not be
Scipios or Maximi, so as to remember the stormings of cities,
battles by land and sea, wars conducted and triumphs gained
by themselves. The old age also of a life past in peace and
innocence and elegance is a gentle and mild one, such as we
have heard that of Plato to have been, who, in his eighty-
first year, died while writing ; such as that of Isocrates, who
says that he wrote that book which is entitled the Panathe-
naican in his ninety-fourth year, and he lived five years
after : whose master, Gorgias, the Leontine, completed one
hundred and seven years, nor did he ever loiter in his pur
suit and labor ; who, when it was asked of him why he
liked to be so long in life, said : " I have no cause for
blaming old age." An admirable answer, and worthy of a
man of learning : for the foolish lay their own vices and

the left side of the Trojan army. Hector treats both the advice and the
adviser with much contempt ; and among other sentiments equally just
and animated, nobly replies (as the lines are finely translated by Mr.
Pope):—

' Ye vagrants of the sky I your wings extend,
Or where the sun arise, or where descend ;
To right, to left, unheeded take your way' —
* "Without a sign his sword the brave man draws,
And asks no omen but his country's cause.' "

Pope's Homer, IL xii 279.

CHAP. TL CICERO ON OLD AGE. 223

their own faults to the charge of old age, which that Ennius,
of whom I lately made mention, was not disposed to do : "As
the gallant steed, who often at the close of the race won the
Olympic prizes, now worn out with old age, takes his rest."
He compares his own old age to that of a mettled and victo
rious steed, and that indeed you can very well remember ;
for it was in the nineteenth year after his death that the
present consuls, Titus Flaminius1 and Marcus Acilius, were
elected, and he died in the second consulship of Coepio and
Philip; when I too, at the age of sixty-five, had supported
the Voconian law2 with a powerful voice and unimpaired
lungs. At the age of seventy, for so many years Ennius
lived, he in such a manner endured two burdens, which are
deemed the greatest, poverty and old age, that he almost
seemed to take pleasure in them. For when I consider it in
my mind, I find four causes why old age is thought miserable :
one, that it calls us away from the transaction of affairs ; the
second, that it renders the body more feeble ; the third, that
it deprives us of almost all pleasures ; the fourth, that it is
not very far from death. Of these causes let us see, if you
please, how great and how reasonable each of them is.

VI. Does old age draw us away from active duties ?
From which ? from those which are performed by youth
and strength ? Are there, then, no concerns of old age,
which even when our bodies are feeble, are yet carried
on by the mind? Was Q. Maximus, then, unemployed?
Was L. Paulus, your father, Scipio, unemployed, the father-
in-law of that most excellent man, my son ? Those other old
men, the Fabricii, the Curii, the Coruncanii, when they sup
ported the commonwealth by wisdom and authority, were
they unemployed ? It was an aggravation of the old age of
Appius Claudius that he was blind, and yet he, when the
opinion of the senate was inclined to peace, and the con
clusion of a treaty with Pyrrus, did not hesitate to utter
these words, which Ennius has expressed in verse : —
" Whither have your minds, which used to stand upright
before, in folly turned away ?" And all the rest with the
Utmost dignity, for the poem is well known to you, and yet

1 A.U.C. 604.

2 The Yoconian law enacted that no one should make a woman his heir.

224 CICERO ON OLD AGE. CHAP. n.

the speech of Appius himself still exists : and he delivered
this speech seventeen years after his second consulship,
when ten years had intervened between the two consulships,
and he had been censor before his former consulship ; from
which it is concluded that in the war with Pyrrhus, he
was a very old man, and yet we have been thus informed
by our fathers. Therefore they advance no argument who
say that old age is not engaged in active duty, and resemble
those who should say that the pilot in navigation is unem
ployed, for that while some climb the mast, others run up
and down the decks, others empty the bilge-water, he,
holding the helm, sits at the stern at his ease. He does not
do those things that the young men do, but in truth he does
much greater and better things. Great actions are not
achieved by exertions of strength, or speed, or by quick
movement of bodies, but by talent, authority, judgment ; of
which faculties old age is usually so far from being deprived,
that it is even improved in them : unless, indeed, I, who
both as a soldier and tribune, and lieutenant-general, and
consul, have been employed in various kinds of wars, now
seem to you to be idle when I am not engaged in wars.
But I counsel the senate as to what wars are to be engaged
in, and in what manner; against Carthage,1 which has now
for a long time been meditating mischief, I have long been
denouncing war ; about which I shall not cease to fear until
I shall know that it has been razed to the ground ; which
victory I wish the immortal gods may reserve for you,
Scipio, that you may consummate the unfinished exploits of
your grandfather; since whose death this is the thirty-third
year: but all succeeding years will cherish the momory of
that man. He died in the year before I was censor, nine
years after my consulship, when he had been in my consul
ship created consul a second time. Would he, therefore, if
he had lived to one hundred years old, ever have regretted
his old age ? for he would not exercise himself, either in
running a race, or in leaping, or at a distance with spears,
or in close quarters with swords, but in counsel, reflection,
and judgment. Now, unless those faculties existed in old

1 " Delenda est Carthago" was so common an expression of Cato's as
to have become proverbial.

CHAP. vi. CICERO ON OLD AGE. 225

men, our ancestors would never have called the supreme
council by the name of senate.1 Among the Lacedaemo
nians, those who hold the highest office, as they are, so also
are they styled, elders. But if you shall be inclined to read
or hear of foreign matters, you will find the greatest com
monwealths have been overthrown by young men, and
supported and restored by the old. " Pray, how lost you your
commonwealth, so great as it was, in so short a time !" For
such is the appeal as it is in the play of the poet Naevius ;2
both other answers are given, and these especially : " There
came forward orators inexperienced, foolish young men."
Kashness, beyond a doubt, belongs to life when in its bloom ;
wisdom to it in old age.

VII. But the memory is impaired. I believe it, unless
you keep it in practice, or if you are by nature rather dull.
Themistocles had learned by heart the names of all his
fellow-citizens. Do you suppose, therefore, when he ad
vanced in age, he was accustomed to address him as Lysi-
machus who was Aristides ? For my part, I know not only
those persons who are alive, but their fathers also, and
grandfathers; nor in reading tombstones am I afraid, as
they say, lest I should lose my memory; for by reading
these very tombstones, I regain my recollection of the dead.3

1 So called from the Latin word senex. The members of this august
assembly were originally distinguished by the title of fathers. " Vel
setate," says Sallust, "vel curse similitudine." Ovid has some pretty
lines in allusion to the same etymology :

" Magna fuit capitis quondam reverentia cani,

Inque suo pretio rugo senilis erat,
Nee nisi post annos patuit tune curia seros

Nomen et setatis mite senatus habet,
Jura dabat Populo senior finitaque certis,

Legibus est setas inde petatur honor."
" Time was when reverend years observance found,
And silver hairs with honor's meed was crowned.
In those good days the venerably old
In Rome's sage synod stood alone enrolled.
Experienced old she gave her laws to frame,
And from the seniors rose the senate's name." — Melmoth.

2 Cneius Naevius was a Latin poet, who lived during the first Punic
war, which he made the subject of an epic poem. He also wrote com
edies, now lost. He died about B.C. 203.

8 " It was a prevailing superstition," says Melmoth, in his annotation
upon this passage, " among the Romans, that to read the inscriptions on

10*

226 CICERO ON OLD AGE. CHAP. vn.

Nor indeed have I heard of any old man having forgotten in
what place he had buried a treasure ; they remember all
things which they care about : appointments of bail ; 1 who
are indebted to them, and to whom they are indebted.2 What
do lawyers ? what do pontiffs ? what do augurs ? what do phi
losophers, when old men ? how many things they remember !
The intellectual powers remain in the old, provided study
and application be kept up ; and that not only in men illus
trious and of high rank, but also in private and peaceful life.
Sophocles wrote tragedies up to the period of extreme old age ;
and when on account of that pursuit he seems to be neglect
ing the family property, he was summoned by his sons into
a court of justice, that, as according to our practice, fathers
mismanaging their property are wont to be interdicted their
possessions,3 so in his case the judges might remove him

the monuments of the dead, weakened the memory. Of this very singular
and unaccountable notion, no other trace I believe is to be found among
the Roman authors but what appears in the present passage. Possibly
it might take its rise from the popular notion that the spirits of malevolent
and wicked men, after their decease, delighted to haunt the places where
their bodies or ashes were deposited, and there were certain annual rites
celebrated at these sepulchers for appeasing the ghosts." — Vid. Platon.
Phaed. No. 3. Ovid, Fast. II. 533.

1 Vadimonia, "vades," or tl vadimonium dare," to give bail or recog
nizances; "deserere vadimonium," to forfeit his recognizances.

2 " We generally find that tin's inaptitude at recollection is most ap
parent with reference to subjects which are uninteresting or distasteful
to the individual ; and this for an obvious reason. To such subjects the
mind gives little or no attention, and consequently few or no associations
are connected with the facts observed. Hence these facts never become
the property of the mind, and of course can never be recalled. On the
other hand, on what subjects do we find that the faculty of recollection
is the most susceptible ? Unquestionably on those, on which the indi
vidual is most deeply interested, either from taste, habit, or professional
pursuit. Its apparent defects are clearly traceable to voluntary habits
of inactivity and neglect ; while like every other faculty of the intellect
ual nature, it is capable of receiving from practice an indefinite measure
of susceptibility and power. In short,' in the degree of perfection at
which it may arrive, it is one of the most commanding and dignified
faculties of an intelligent being. It extends the very limit of our exist
ence back from the present to the past ; so that the stream of by-gone
years, with all the rich freight of knowledge and experience which it
bears upon its bosom, does not merge and lose itself in an unknown
ocean, but only winds itself out of sight in the recesses of our own do
mains." — Edmonds's Philosophy of Memory.

3 Interdici bonis. The praetor was said " interdicere" when he took
from any one the management of his property, as in cases of lunacy, etc.

CHAP. vm. CICERO Oltf OLD AG-E. 227

from the management of the state as being imbecile. Then
the old man is related to have read aloud to the judges that
play which he held in his hands and had most recently
written, the (Edipus Coloneus, and to have asked whether
that appeared the poem of a dotard ; on the recital of which,
he was acquitted by the sentences of the judges. Did, then,
old age compel this man, or Homer, or Hesiod,1 or Simoni-
des,2 or Stesichorus,3 or those men whom I mentioned
before Isocrates, Georgias, or the chiefs of the philosophers,
Pythagoras, Democritus, or Plato, or Xenocrates, or after
ward Zeno, Cleanthes, or him whom you have also seen at
Rome, Diogenes the Stoic, to falter in their pursuits ? Was not
the vigorous pursuit of their studies commensurate with
their life in all these men ? Come, to pass over these sublime
pursuits, I can mention in the Sabine district, country gen
tlemen at Rome, neighbors and acquintances of mine, in
whose absence scarcely ever are any important works done
in the farm, either in sowing, or in reaping, or in storing the
produce ; and yet in those men this is less to be wondered
at ; for no man is so old as not to think he may live a
year. But they also take pains in those matters, which they
know do not at all concern themselves. " He plants trees to
benefit another generation," as our friend Statius4 says in
his Synephebi. Nor, in truth, let the husbandman, however
old, hesitate to reply to any one who asks him " for whom he
is sowing:" "For the immortal gods, who intended that I
should not only receive these possessions from my ancestors,
but also transmit them to my descendants."

VIII. Ccecilius speaks more wisely about an old man look
ing forward to another generation, than the following: —
"In truth,5 old age, if thou bringest with thee no other

1 Hesiod, a poet of Ascra in Boeotia, supposed by some to have lived
about the time of Homer. His principal poem is the "Works and
Days," a sort of shepherd's calendar.

2 Simonides, a poet of Cos, who flourished B.C. 538.

3 Stesichorus, a lyric Greek poet of Himera, in Sicily, B.C. 556.

4 Statius, a comic poet in the days of Ennius. He was a native of
Gaul. His surname was Caecilius. — Vid. Chap. viii. at the beginning.

5 JEdepol. Per cedem Pollucis, by the temple of Pollux : a form of
swearing common both to men and women. Mecastor, or Ecastor, " by
Castor," was used by women only : Herde, or Meherck, was the form
used by men.

228 CICEEO ON OLD AGE. CHAP. ix.

fault when thou arrivest, this one is enough, that by living
long, one sees many things which he does not like :" — and
many things, perhaps, which he does like; and youth also
often meets with things which he does not like. But the
same Csecilus makes the following assertion, which is still
more objectionable: — "Then, for my part, I reckon this
circumstance connected with old age the most wretched,
to be censcious at that age that one is disagreeable to
others." Pleasant rather than disagreeable. For as wise
old men take pleasure in young men possessed of good
disposition, and the old age of those persons becomes
lighter who are courted and loved by youth ; so young men
take pleasure in the lessons of the old, by which they are led
on to the pursuits of virtue. Nor am I aware that I am less
agreeable to you than you are to me. But you see that old
age is so far from being feeble and inactive, that it is even
industrious, and always doing and devising something ;
namely, such pursuits as have belonged to each man in
former life. Nay, they even learn something new ; as we see
Solon in his verses boasting, who says that he was becoming
an old man, daily learning something new, as I have done,
who, when an old man, learned the Greek language ;*
which too I so greedily grasped, as if I were desirous of
satisfying a long protracted thirst, that those very things
became known to me which you now see me use as illus
trations. And when I heard that Socrates had done this
on the lyre, for my part I should like to do that also, — for
the ancients used to learn the lyre : but with their literature,
at any rate, I have taken pains.

IX. Nor even now do I feel the want of the strength of a
young man — for that was the second topic about the faults
of old age — no more than when a young man I felt the want
of the strength of the bull or of the elephant. What one has,
that one ought to use ; and whatever you do, you should do

1 Referring to this fact in the life of Cato, Lord Bacon says, " As to the
judgment of Cato the censor, he was well punished for his blasphemy
against learning, in the same kind wherein he offended ; for when he was
past threescore years old, he was taken with an extreme desire to go to
school again and to learn the Greek tongue to the end to peruse the Greek
authors, which doth well demonstrate, that his former censure of the
Grecian learning was rather an affected gravity than according to the in
ward sense of his own opinion." — " Advancement of Learning," book i.

CHAP. ix. CICERO ON OLD AG-E. 229

it with, all your strength. For what expression can be more
contemptible than that of Milo l of Crotona, who, when he
was now an old man, and was looking at the prize-fighters
exercising themselves on the course, is reported to have
looked at his arms, and, weeping over them, to have said,
" But these, indeed, are now dead." 3 Nay, foolish man, not
these arms so much as yourself ; for you never derived your
nobility from yourself, but from your chest and you arms.
Nothing of the kind did Sextus JElius ever say, nothing of
the kind many years before did Titus Coruncanius, nothing
lately did Publius Crassus; by whom instructions in juris
prudence were given to their fellow-citizens, and whose
wisdom was progressive even to their latest breath. For
the orator, I fear lest he be enfeebled by old age ; for elo
quence is a gift not of mind only, but also of lungs and
strength. On the whole, that melodiousness in the voice is
graceful, I know not how, even in old age ; which, indeed, I
have not lost, and you see my years. Yet there is a grace
ful style of eloquence in an old man, unimpassioned and
subdued, and very often the elegant and gentle discourse of
an eloquent old man wins for itself a hearing ; and if you
have not yourself the power to produce this eflect, yet you

1 Milo. A famous Athlete, of Crotona, in Italy. He is Baid to' have
carried on his shoulders a young bullock. He was seven times crowned
at the Pythian games, and six times at the Olympian.

2 " "When an old man bewails the loss of such gratifications as aro
passed, he discovers a monstrous inclination to that which it is not in the
course of Providence to recall. The state of an old man, who is dissat
isfied merely for his being such, is the most out of all measures of reason
and good sense of any being we have any account of, from the highest
angel to the lowest worm. How miserable is the contemplation, to con
sider a libidinous old man fretting at the course of things, and being al
most the sole malcontent in the creation. But let us a little reflect upon
what he has lost by the number of years ; the passions which he had in
youth are not to be obeyed as they were then, but reason is more power
ful now without the disturbance of them. One would think it should
be no small satisfaction to have gone so far in our journey that the heat
of the day is over with us. "When life itself is a fever, as it is in licen
tious youth, the pleasures of it are no other than the dreams of a man
in that distemper ; and it is as absurd to wish the return of that season
of life, as for a man in health to be sorry for the loss of gilded palaces,
fairy walks, and flowery pastures, with which he remembers he was en
tertained in the troubled slumbers of a fit of sickness." — The Spectator,
No. 153.

230 CICERO ON OLD AGE. CHAP. x.

may be able to teach it to Scipio and Laelius. For what
is more delightful than old age surrounded with the stud
ious attention of youth? Shall we not leave even such a
resource to old age, as to teach young men, instruct them,
train them to every department of duty? an employment,
indeed, than which what can be more noble ? But, for
my part, I thought the Cneius and Publius Scipios, and
your two grandfathers, L. ^Emilius and P. Africanus, quite
happy in the attendance of noble youths ; nor are any pre
ceptors of liberal accomplishment to be deemed otherwise
than happy, though their strength hath Mien into old age
and failed ; although that very failure of strength is more
frequently caused by the follies' of youth than by those of
old age; for a lustful and intemperate youth transmits to
old age an exhausted body.1 Cyrus too, in Xenophon, in
that discourse which he delivered on his death-bed when he
was a very old man, said that he never felt that his old
age had become feebler than his youth had been. I recol
lect when a boy, that Lucius Metellus, who, when four
years after his second consulship he had been made " pon-
tifex rnaximus," and for twenty-two years held that sacer
dotal office, enjoyed such good strength at the latter period
of his life, that he felt no want of youth. There is no need
for me to speak about myself, and yet that is the privilege
of old age, and conceded to my time of life.

X. Do you see how, in Homer, Nestor very often pro
claims his own virtues ? for he was now living in the third
generation of men ; nor had he occasion to fear lest, when
stating the truth about himself, he should appear either too
arrogant or too talkative ; for, as Homer says,2 from his
tongue speech flowed sweeter than honey ; for which charm
he stood in need of no strength of body : and yet the famous
chief of Greece nowhere wishes to have ten men like Ajax,
but like Nestor;3 and he does not doubt if that should

1 " When young men in public places betray in their deportment an
abandoned resignation to their appetites, they give to sober minds a pros
pect of a despicable age, which, if not interrupted by death in the midst
of then* follies, must certainly come." — The Spectator, No. 153.

2 Toy KO.I UTTO yhuaariz //e/Urof JAVKIUV fieev avdrj.

Oh ! would the gods, in love to Greece, decree
But ten such sages as they grant in thee I

CHAP. x. CICEEO ON OLD AG-E. 231

happen, Troy would in a short time perish. But I return to
myself. I am in my eighty-fourth year. In truth I should
like to be able to make the same boast that Cyrus did : but
one thing I can say, that although I have not, to be sure, that
strength which I had either as a soldier in the Punic war, or
as quaestor in the same war, or as consul in Spain, or, four
years afterward, when as military tribune J fought a battle at
Thermopylae, in the consulship of ^tSfoufr Acilius Glabrio :
yet, as you see, old age has not quite enfeebled me nor broken
me down : the senate-house does not miss my strength, nor
the rostra,1 nor my friends, nor my clients, nor my guests ;
for I have never agreed to that old and much-praised
proverb, which advises you to become an old man early, if
you wish to be an old man long. I for my part would rather
be an old man for a shorter length of time than be an old
man before I was one. And, therefore, no one as yet has
wished to have an interview with me, to whom I have been
denied as engaged. But I have less strength than either of
you two. Neither even do you possess the strength of Titus
Pontius the centurion : is he, therefore, the more excellent
man ? Only let there be a moderate degree of strength, and
let every man exert himself as much as he can ; and in truth
that man will not be absorbed in regretting the want of
strength. Milo, at Olympia, is said to have gone over the course
while supporting on his shoulders a live ox. Whether, then,
would you rather have this strength of body, or Pythagoras'!
strength of intellect, bestowed upon you ? In a word, enjoy
that blessing while you have it : when it is gone, do not
lament it ; unless, indeed, young men ought to lament the
loss of boyhood, and those a little advanced in age the loss
of adolescence. There is a definite career in life, and one
way of nature, and that a simple one ; and to every part of
life its own peculiar period has been assigned : so that both
the feebleness of boys, and the high spirit of young men, and
the steadiness of our fixed manhood, and the maturity of old
age, have something natural, which ought to be enjoyed in

Such wisdom soon should Priam's force destroy ;

And soon should fall the haughty towers of Troy.

Illiad, Pope's Translation.

- l Rostra : a pulpit from which the orators used to harangue the people
at the comitia or public assemblies. It was so called, because it was
adorned with the beaks of the ships taken from the Antiates.

232 CICERO ON OLD AGE. CHAP. XL

their own time. I suppose that you hear, Scipio, what your
grandfather's host, Masinissa,1 is doing at this day, at the age
of ninety: when he has commenced journey on foot, he
never mounts at all ; when on horseback, he never dismounts :
by no rain, by no cold, is he prevailed upon to have his
head covered ; that there is in him the greatest hardiness
of frame ; and therefore he performs all the duties and
functions of a king. Exercise, therefore, and temperance,
even in old age, can preserve some remnant of our pristine
vigor.

XL Is there no strength in old age? neither is strength
exacted from old age. Therefore, by our laws and insti
tutions, our time of life is relieved from those tasks which
can not be supported without strength. Accordingly, so far
are we from being compelled to do what we can not do, that
we are not even compelled to do as much as we can. But so
feeble are many old men, that they can not execute any task of
duty, or any function of life whatever ; but that in truth is
not the peculiar fault of old age, but, belongs in common to
bad health. How feeble was the son of Publius Africanus,
he who adopted you? What feeble health, or rather no
health at all, had he ! and had that not been so, he would
have been the second luminary of the state ; for to his pater
nal greatness of soul a richer store of learning had been
added.2 What wonder, therefore, in old men, if they are

' l Masinissa, son of Gala, king of a small part of Northern Africa: he
assisted the Carthaginians in their wars against Rome. He afterward
became a firm ally of the Romans. He died after a reign of sixty years,
about B.C. 149.

2 " There are perhaps," says Dr. Johnson, " very few conditions more
to be pitied than that of an active and elevated mind laboring under the
weight of a distempered body. The time of such a man is always spent
in forming schemes which a change of wind hinders him from executing,
his powers fume away in projects and in hope, and the day of action
never arrives. He lies down delighted with the thoughts of to-morrow,
pleases his ambition with the fame he shall acquire, or his benevolence
with the good he shall confer. But in the night the skies are overcast,
the temper of the air is changed, he wakes in languor, impatience, and
distraction, and has no longer any wish but for ease, nor any attention
but to misery. It may be said that disease generally begins that equality
which death completes ; the distinctions which set one man so much
above another are very little perceived in the gloom of a sick chamber,
where it will be vain to expect entertainment from the gay, or instruc
tion from the wise ; where all human glory is obliterated, the wit is

CHAP. XL CICERO ON OLD AGrE. 233

sometimes weak, when even young men can not escape that.
We must make a stand, Scipio, and Laelius, against old age,
and its faults must be atoned for by activity ; we must
fight, as it were, against disease, and in like manner against
old age. Regard must be paid to health ; moderate exer
cises must be adopted ; so much of meat and drink must be
taken that the strength may be recruited, not oppressed.
Nor, indeed, must the body alone be supported, but the
mind and the soul much more ; for these also, unless you
drop oil on them as on a lamp, are extinguished by old age.
And our bodies, indeed, by weariness and exercise, become
oppressed ; but our minds are rendered buoyant by exercise.
For as to those, of whom CaBcilius speaks, " foolish old men,"
fit characters for comedy, by these he denotes the credulous,
the forgetful, the dissolute ; which are the faults not of old
age, but of inactive, indolent, drowsy old age. As petu
lance and lust belong to the young more than to the old, yet
not to all young men, but to those who are not virtuous ; so
that senile folly which is commonly called dotage, belongs
to weak old men, and not to all. Four stout sons, five
daughters, so great a family, and such numerous dependents,
did Appius manage, although both old and blind ; for he
kept his mind intent like a bow, nor did he languidly sink
under the weight of old age. He retained not only author
ity, but also command, over his family : the slaves feared
him ; the children respected him ; all held him dear : there
prevailed in that house the manners and good discipline of
our fathers. For on this condition is old age honored if it
maintains itself, if it keeps up its own right, if it is subserv
ient to no one, if even to its last breath it exercises control
over its dependents. For, as I like a young man in whom
there is something of the old, so I like an old man in whom
there is something of the young; and he who follows this
maxim, in body will possibly be an old man, but he will
never be an old man in mind. I have in hand my seventh
book of Antiquities ; I am collecting all the materials of our
early history ; of all the famous causes which I have de-
clouded, the reasoner perplexed, and the hero subdued; where the
highest and brightest of mortal beings finds nothing left him but the
consciousness of innocence." — Dr. Johnson's Rambler, No. 48.

234 CICERO ON OLD AGE. CHAP. XL

fended, I am now completing the pleadings ; 1 I am employed
on the law of augurs, of pontiffs, of citizens. I am much en
gaged also in Greek literature, and, after the manner of the
Pythagoreans, for the purpose of exercising my memory,
I call to mind in the evening what I have said, heard,
and done on each day.2 These are the exercises of the
understanding; these are the race-courses of the mind;
while I am perspiring and toiling over these, I do not greatly
miss my strength of body. I attend my friends, I come into
the senate very often, and spontaneously bring forward things
much and long thought of, and I maintain them by strength
of mind, not of body ; and if I were unable to perform these
duties, yet my couch would afford no amusement, when re
flecting on those matters which I was no longer able to do —
but that I am able, is owing to my past life : for, by a person

1 The speeches here referred to, which Cato collected and published,
amounted to about 150, in which, as we are assured by one of the
greatest masters of eloquence that Rome ever produced, Cato displayed
all the powers of a consummate orator. Accordingly he was styled by
his cotemporaries " The Roman Demosthenes," and he is frequently
mentioned by subsequent writers under the designation of " Cato the
Orator."

3 "It was not," says Melmoth, and that with great propriety, "in order
to exercise and improve the memory, that Pythagoras enjoined his dis
ciples the practice of this nightly recollection ; it was for a much more
useful and important purpose. The object of the philosopher's precept
is indeed wholly of a moral nature, as appears from that noble summary
of his Ethics, supposed to be drawn up by one of his disciples, and
known by the name of the ' Golden Verses of Pythagoras :'

" ' M?;(5' VTTVOV fta^aKoiai sir' o/a/j.a'JL^ etc.
' Nightly forbear to close thine eyes to rest
Ere thou hast questioned well thy conscious breast
What sapred duty thou hast left undone —
What act committed which thou oughtest to shun.
And as fair truth or error marks the deed,
Let sweet applause, or sharp reproach succeed :
So shall thy steps, while this great rule is thine,
TJndevious lead in Yirtue's path divine.'

" It is not a little surprising that Cicero should have considered this
great precept merely in its mechanical operation upon one of the faculties
of the human mind, and have passed over unnoticed its most important
intent and efficacy ; especially as he had so fair an occasion of pointing
out its nobler purpose. Perhaps there never was a rule of conduct de
livered by any uninspired moralist which hath so powerful a tendency to
promote the interests of virtue as the present precept."

CHAP. HL CICERO ON OLD AGE. 235

who always lives in these pursuits and labors, it is not per
ceived when old age steals on. Thus gradually and uncon
sciously life declines into old age ; nor is its thread suddenly
broken, but the vital principle is consumed by length of
time.

XII. Then follows the third topic of blame against old
age, that they say it has no pleasures. Oh, noble privi
lege of age ! if indeed it takes from us that which is in
youth the greatest defect. For listen, most excellent young
men, to the ancient speech of Archytas of Tarentum, a man
eminently great and illustrious, which was reported to me
when I, a young man, was at Tarentum with Quintus Maxi-
mus. He said that no more deadly plague than the pleasure
of the body was inflicted on men by nature ; for the pas
sions, greedy of that pleasure, were in a rash and unbridled
manner incited to possess it ; that hence arose treasons against
one's country, hence the ruining of states, hence clan
destine conferences with enemies : in short, that there
was no crime, no wicked act, to the undertaking of which
the lust of pleasure did not impel ; but that fornications
and adulteries and every such crime were provoked by
no other allurements than those of pleasure. And whereas
either nature or some god had given to man nothing
more excellent than his mind ; that to this divine func
tion and gift, nothing was so hostile as pleasure : since
where lust bore sway, there was no room for self-restraint ;
and in the realm of pleasure, virtue could by no possi
bility exist. And that this might be the better understood,
he begged you to imagine in your mind any one actuated
by the greatest pleasure of the body that could be enjoyed ;
he believed no one would doubt, but that so long as the person
was in that state of delight, he would be able to consider
nothing in his mind, to attain nothing by reason, nothing by
reflection : wherefore that there was nothing so detestable
and so destructive as pleasure, inasmuch as that when it was
excessive and very prolonged, it extinguished all the light of
the soul. Nearchus of Tarentum, our host,1 who had re-

1 The title of fevof, or public host of a nation or city, is exceedingly
common in the classic writers. The duty of the person on whom it was
conferred, was to receive embassadors from the state with which he was
thus connected, into his own house, if they had been sent on public

236 CICERO ON OLD AG-E. CHAP. xm.

mained throughout in friendship with the Roman people, said
he had heard from older men, that Archytas held this con
versation with Caius Pontius the Samnite, the father of him
by whom, in the Caudian battle,1 Spurius Postumius and
Titus Veturiu^ the consuls, were overcome, on which occa
sion Plato the Athenian had been present at that discourse ;
and I find that he came to Tarentum in the consulship of
Lucius Camillus and Appius Claudius.2 Wherefore do I
adduce this ? that we may understand that if we could not
by reason and wisdom despise pleasure, great gratitude
would be due to old age for bringing it to pass that that
should not be a matter of pleasure which is not a matter of
duty. For pleasure is hostile to reason, hinders deliberation,
and, so to speak, closes the eyes of the mind, nor does it hold
any intercourse with virtue. I indeed acted reluctantly in ex
pelling from the senate Lucius Flaminius, brother of that very
brave man, Titus Flaminius, seven years after he had been
consul ; but I thought that his licentiousness should be stig
matized. For that man, when he was consul in Gaul, was pre
vailed on at a banquet, by a courtezan, to behead one of those
who were in chains, condemned on a capital charge. He es
caped in the censorship of his brother Titus, who had immedi
ately preceded me : but so profligate and abandoned an act of
lust could by no means be allowed to pass by me and Flaccus,
since with private infamy it combined the disgrace of the em
pire.

XIII. I have often heard from my elders, who said that,
in like manner, they, when boys, had heard from old men,
that Caius Fabricius was wont to wonder that when he was
embassador to king Pyrrhus, he had heard from Cineas the
Thessalian, that there was a certain person at Athens, who
professed himself a wise man, and that he was accustomed to
say that all things which we did were to be referred to
pleasure : and that hearing him say so, Manius Curius and
Titus Coruncanius were accustomed to wish that that might

business to the city in winch he resided, and to use all the interest he
possessed in furthering the purpose of their mission.

1 Prcelio Caudino. Caudi and Caudium, a town of the Samnites, near
which, in a place called Caudinse Furculse or Fauces, the Romans were
defeated and made to pass under the yoke of Pontius Herenniua.

2 Consulibw L. Camilla, etc. A.U.C. 330.

CHAP. xm. CICERO ON OLD AGE. 237

be the persuasion of the Samnites and Pyrrhus himself, that
they might the more easily be conquered when they had
given themselves up to pleasure. Manius Curius had lived
with Publius Decius, who, five years before the consulship
of the former, had devoted himself for the commonwealth in
his fourth consulship. Fabricius had been acquainted with
him, and Coruncanius had also known him ; who, as well
from his own conduct in life, as from the great action of
him whom I mention, Publius Decius, judged that there was
doubtless something in its own nature excellent and glorious,
which should be followed for its own sake, and which, scorn
ing and despising pleasure, all the worthiest men pursued.
To what end then have I said so many things about pleas
ure ? Because it is so far from being any disparagement,
that it is even the highest praise to old age, that it has no
great desire for any pleasures. It lacks banquets, and piled-
up boards, and fast-coming goblets ; it is therefore also free
from drunkenness and indigestion and sleeplessness. But if
something must be conceded to pleasure (since we do not
easily withstand its allurements, for Plato beautifully calls
pleasure the bait of evils, inasmuch as, by it, in fact, men
are caught as fishes with a hook), although old age has
nothing to do with extravagant banquets, yet in reasonable
entertainments it can experience pleasure. I, when a boy,
often saw Caius Duilius,1 son of Marcus, the first man who
had conquered the Carthaginians by sea, returning from
dinner, when an old man : he took delight in numerous
torches and musicians, things which he, as a private person,
had assumed to himself without any precedent : so much
indulgence did his glory give him. But why do I refer to
others ? let me now return to myself. First of all, I always
had associates in clubs; and clubs were established when
I was quaestor, on the Id«an worship of the great mother
being adopted. Therefore I feasted with my associates3
altogether in a moderate way; but there was a kind of
fervor peculiar to that time of life, and as that advances, all
things will become every day more subdued. For I did not
calculate the gratification of those banquets by the pleasures

1 G. Duilitis, surnamed Nepos, obtained a naval victory over the Car
thaginians, B.C. 260.

2 SodaMtia were club-feasts, corporation dinners, etc.

238 CICERO ON OLD AGE. CHAP. xrv.

of the body, so much as by the meetings of friends and con
versations. For well did our ancestors style the reclining
of friends at an entertainment, because it carried with it a
union of life, by the name " convivium" 1 better than the
Greeks do, who call this same thing as well by the name of
" compotatio " as " concoenatio :" so that what in that kind
(of pleasure) is of the least value, that they appear most to
approve of.

XIV. For my part, on account of the pleasure of conver
sation, I am delighted also with seasonable entertainments,
not only with those of my own age, of whom very few sur
vive, but with those of your age, and with you ; and I give
great thanks to old age, which has increased my desire for
conversation, and taken away that of eating and drinking.
But even if 'such things delight any person (that I may not
appear altogether to have declared war against pleasure, of
which perhaps a certain limited degree is even natural), I
am not aware that even in these pleasures themselves old age
is without enjoyment. For my part, the presidencies2 estab
lished by our ancestors delight me ; and that conversation,
which after the manner of our ancestors, is kept up over our
cups from the top of the table ; and the cups, as in the Sym
posium of Xenophon, small and dewy, and the cooling of
the wine in summer, and in turn either the sun, or the fire
in winter : practices which I am accustomed to follow among
the Sabines also, and I daily join a party of neighbors,
which we prolong with various conversation till late at
night, as far as we can. But there is not, as it were, so
ticklish a sensibility of pleasures in old men. I believe it:
but then neither is there the desire. But nothing is irksome,
.unless you long for it. Well did Sophocles, when a certain
man inquired of him advanced in age, whether he enjoyed
venereal pleasures, reply, "The gods give me something
better ; nay, I have run away from them with gladness, as
from a wild and furious tyrant." For to men fond of such
things, it is perhaps disagreeable and irksome to be without
them ; but to the contented and satisfied it is more delightful
to want them than to enjoy them : and yet he does not want
who feels no desire; therefore I say that this freedom from

1 Convivium, which the Greeks call OV/J-TTOOLOV.

2 " Nee regna vini sortiere tails." — Horace, Book I. Ode 4.

CHAP. nv. CICERO ON OLD AGE. 239

desire is more delightful than enjoyment. But if the prime
of life has more cheerful enjoyment of those very pleasures,
in the first place they are but petty objects wich it en
joys, as I have said before; then they are those of which
old age, if it does not abundantly possess them, is not
altogether destitute. As he is more delighted with Turpio
Ambivius, who is spectator on the foremost bench,1 yet
he also is delighted who is in the hindmost; so youth
having a close view of pleasure, is perhaps more grati
fied; but old age is as much delighted as is necessary in
viewing them at a distance. But of what high value are the
following circumstances, that the soul, after it has served out,
as it were, its time under lust, ambition, contention, enmities,
and all the passions, shall retire within itself, and, as the
phrase is, live with itself ? But if it has, as it were, food for
study and learning, nothing is more delightful than an old age
of leisure. I saw Caius Gallus, the intimate friend of your
father, Scipio, almost expiring in the employment of calcu
lating the sky and the earth. How often did daylight over
take him when he had begun to draw some figure by night,
how Often did night when he had begun in the morning?
How it did delight him to predict to us the eclipses of the sun
and the moon long before their occurrence ! What shall we
say in the case of pursuits less dignified, yet, notwithstanding,
requiring acute ness ! How Nsevius did delight in his Punic
war ! how Plautius in his Truculentus ! how in his Pseudolus !
I saw also the old man Livy,2 who, though he had brought a
play upon the stage six years before I was born, in the consul
ship of Cento and Tuditanus, yet advanced in age even to the
time of my youth. Why should I speak of Publius Licinius
CrassUs's study both of pontifical and civil law? or of the
present Publius Scipio, who within these few days was cre
ated chief pontiff ? Yet we have seen all these persons whom
I have mentioned, ardent in these pursuits when old men.
But as to Marcus Cethegus, whom Ennius rightly called the

1 Prima caved. The theater was of a semicircular form : the foremost
rows next the stage were called orchestra : fourteen rows behind them
were assigned to the knights, the rest to the people. The whole was
frequently called cavea.

2 Livius Andronicus flourished at Rome about 240 years before the
Christian era.

240 CICEKO ON OLD AGE, CHAP. zv.

" marrow of persuasion,'1 with what great zeal did we see him
engage in the practice of oratory, even when an old man !
What pleasures, therefore, arising from banquets, or plays,
or harlots, are to be compared with these pleasures? And
these, indeed, are the pursuits of learning, which too, with
the sensible and well educated, increase along with their age :
so that is a noble saying of Solon, when he says in a certain
verse, as I observed before, that he grew old learning many
things every day — than which pleasure of the mind, certainly,
none can be greater.

XV. I come now to the pleasures of husbandmen, with
which I am excessively delighted ; which are not checked
by any old age, and appear in my mind to make the
nearest approach to the life of a wise man.1 For they have
relation to the earth, which never refuses command, and
never returns without interest that which it hath received;
but sometimes with less, generally with very great interest.
And yet for my part it is not only the product, but the virtue
and nature of the earth itself delights me ; which, when in
its softened and subdued bosom it has received the scattered
seed, first of all confines what is hidden within it, from which
harrowing, which produces that effect, derives its name
(occatio) ; then, when it is warmed by heat and its own com
pression, it spreads it out, and elicits from it the verdant
blade, which, supported by the fibers of the roots, gradually
grows up, and, rising on a jointed stalk, is now inclosed in a
sheath, as if it were of tender age, out of which, when it
hath shot up, it then pours forth the fruit of the ear, piled in
due order, and is guarded by a rampart of beards against the
pecking of the smaller birds. Why should I, in the case
of vines, tell of the plantings, the risings, the stages of
growth ? That you may know the repose and amusement of
my old age, I assure you that I can never have enough of
that gratification. For I pass over the peculiar nature of all
things which are produced from the earth : which generates

1 " God Almighty first planted a garden ; and indeed it is the purest
of human pleasures : it is the greatest refreshment to the spirits of man ;
without which buildings and palaces are but gross handy-works, and a
man shall ever see, that, when ages grow to civility and elegancy, men
come to build stately sooner than to garden finely ; as if gardening were
the greater perfection." — Lord Bacon, Essay 46.

CHAP. xv. CICERO ON OLD AGE. 241

such great trunks and branches from so small a grain of the
fig or from the grape-stone, or from the minutest seeds of
other fruits and roots : shoots, plants, twigs, quicksets, layers,
do not these produce the effect of delighting any one even to
admiration ? The vine, indeed, which by nature is prone to
fall, and is borne down to the ground, unless it be propped,
in order to raise itself up, embraces with its tendrils, as it
were with hands, whatever it meets with ; which, as it creeps
with manifold and wandering course, the skill of the hus
bandmen, pruning with the knife, restrains from running
into a forest of twigs, and spreading too far in all directions.
Accordingly, in the beginning of spring, in those twigs
which are left, there rises up as it were at the joints of the
branches that which is called a bud, from which the nascent
grape shows itself; which, increasing in size by the moisture
of the earth and the heat of the sun, is at first very acid to
the taste, and then as it ripens grows sweet, and being
clothed with its large leaves does not want moderate warmth,
and yet keeps off the excessive heat of the sun ; than which
•what can be in fruit on the one hand more rich, or on the
other hand more beautiful in appearance ? Of which not
oqjy the advantage, as I said before, but also the cultivation
and the nature itself delights me : the rows of props, the
joining of the heads, the tying up and propagation of vines,
and the pruning of some twigs, and the grafting of others,
which I have mentioned. Why should I allude to irriga
tions, why to the diggings of the ground, why to the trenching
by which the ground is made much more productive ? Why
should I speak of the advantage of manuring ? I have treated
of it in that book which I wrote respecting rural affairs,
concerning which the learned Hesiod has not said a single
word, though he has written about the cultivation of the
land. But Homer, who, as appears to me, lived many ages
before, introduces Laertes soothing the regret which he felt
for his son, by tilling the land and manuring it. Nor in
deed is rural life delightful by reason of corn-fields only
and meadows and vineyards and groves, but also for its
gardens and orchards ; also for the feeding of cattle, the
swarms of bees, and the variety of all kinds of flowers.1 Nor

1 " I look upon the pleasure which we take in a garden, as one of the
most innocent delights in human life. A garden was the habitation of

11

242 CICERO ON OLD AGE. CHAP. XYI.

do plantings1 only give me delight, but also engraftings;
than which agriculture has invented nothing more inge
nious.

XVI. I can enumerate many amusements of rustic life ;
but even those things which I have mentioned, I perceive to
have been rather long. But you will forgive me; for both
from my love of rural life I have been carried away, and old
age is by nature rather talkative, that I may not appear to
vindicate it from all failings. In such a life then as this,
Marcus Curius,3 after he had triumphed over the Samnites,
over the Sabines, over Pyrrhus, spent the closing period of
his existence. In contemplating whose country seat, too
(for it is not far distant from my house), I can not sufficiently
admire either the continence of the man himself, or the moral
character of the times.

When the Samnites had brought a great quantity of gold to
Curius as he sat by his fire-side, they were repelled wilh dis
dain by him ; for he said that it did not appear to him glorious
to possess gold, but to have power over those who possessed
gold. Could so great a soul fail in rendering old age pleasant ?
But I come to husbandmen, that I may not digress from my
self. In the country at that time there were senators, and
they too old men : inasmuch as Lucius Quintus Cincinnatus
was at the plow when it was announced to him that he was
made dictator : by whose command when dictator, Caius
Servilius Ahala, the master of the horse, arrested and put
to death Spurius Melius, who was aspiring to kingly power.
From their country house, Curius and other old men were
summoned to the senate, from which cause they who sum
moned them were termed "viatores." Was then their old
age to be pitied, who amused themselves in the cultivation
of land? In my opinion, indeed, I know not whether any
other can be more happy : and not only in the discharge of

our first parents before the fall. It is naturally apt to fill the mind with
calmness and tranquillity, and to lay all its turbulent passions at rest.
It gives us a great insight into the contrivance and wisdom of Prov
idence, and suggests innumerable subjects for meditation." — Spectator,
No. 477.

1 Consitio, sowing or planting; insitio, grafting; repastinatio, trench

ng.
2

Curius Dentatus Marcus Annius, celebrated for his fortitude and
frugality. Ho was thrice consul, and twice honored with a triumph.

CHAP. xvir. CICEBO ON OLD AGE. 243

duty, because to the whole race of mankind the cultivation
of the land is beneficial ; but also from the amusement, which
I have mentioned, and that fullness and abundance of all
things which are connected with the food of men, and also
with the worship of the gods; so that, since some have a
desire for these things, we may again put ourselves on good
terms with pleasure. For the wine-cellar of a good and
diligent master is always well stored ; the oil-casks, the
pantry also, the whole farm-house is richly supplied ; it
abounds in pigs, kids, lambs, hens, milk, cheese, honey.
Then, too, the countrymen themselves call the garden a
second dessert. And then what gives a greater relish to
these things is that kind of leisure labor, fowling and hunt
ing. Why should I speak of the greenness of meadows, or
the rows of trees, or the handsome appearance of vineyards
and olive grounds ? Let me cut the matter short. Nothing
can be either more rich in use, or more elegant in appear
ance than ground well tilled ; to the enjoyment of which
old age is so far from being an obstacle, that it is even
an invitation and allurement. For where can that age
be better warmed either by basking in the sun or by the
fire, or again be more healthfully refreshed by shades or
waters ? Let the young, therefore, keep to themselves their
arms, horses, spears, clubs, tennis-ball, swimmings, and
races : to us old men let them leave out of many amuse
ments the tali and tesserae;^ and even in that matter it may
be as they please, since old age can be happy without these
amusements.

XVII. For many purposes the books of Xenophon are
very useful ; which read, I pray you, with diligence, as you
are doing. At what length is agriculture praised by him in
that book, which treats of the management of private property,
and which is styled " CEconomicus." 3 And that you may
understand that nothing to him appears so kingly as the pur
suit of agriculture, Socrates in that book converses with Crito-

1 Tesserae, had six sides marked 1, 2, 3, etc., like our dice. The tali
had four sides longwise, the ends not being regarded. The lowest throw
(unio], the ace, was called canis : the highest (senio or sice), was called
Venus; the dice-box, Fritillus.

2 CEconomicus. A dialogue of Xenophon, in which he treats of tho
management of a farm, horses, etc.

244 CICERO ON OLD AGE. CHAP. xvii.

bulus, [and remarks] that Cyrus the younger,1 king of the
Persians, pre-eminent in talent and the glory of his empire,
when Lysander8 the Lacedaemonian, a man of the highest
valor, had come to him at Sardis, and had brought to him
presents from the allies, both in other respects was courteous
and kind toward Lysander, and in particular showed to him
an inclosed piece of ground planted with great care. And that
when Lysander admired both the tallness of the trees and the
lines arranged in a quincunx, and the ground well cultivated
and clear, and the sweetness of the perfumes which were
breathed from the flowers, he said that he admired not only the
diligence, but also the skillmlness of the man by whom these
grounds had been planned and measured out ; and that Cyrus
answered him, " Well, it was I who planned all these grounds ;
mine are the rows, mine the laying out ; many also of these
trees were planted by my own hand." That then Lysander,
beholding his purple robe and the elegance of his person, and
his Persian dress adorned with much gold and many jewels,
said, " O Cyrus, they truly report you as happy, since excel
lence is combined with your fortune !" This lot then old men
may enjoy ; nor does age hinder us from retaining the pursuit
both of other things, and especially of cultivating the land,
even to the last period of old age. In the case of Marcus
Valerius Corvus, we have heard that he continued to live to
his hundredth year, while, when his (active) life had been
spent, he lived in the country and tilled the land: between
whose first and sixth consulship forty-six years intervened.
Thus, as long a period of life as our ancestors considered to
reach to the beginning of old age, just so long was the career
of his honors : and the close of his life was happier on this
account than the middle, because it had more of authority
and less of toil. Now authority is the crown of old age. How
great was it in Lucius Csecilius Metellus ! how great in
Atilius Calatinus! on whom was that singular inscription —
" Many nations agree that he was the leading man of the
people." It is a well-known epitaph, inscribed on his tomb.
He therefore was justly dignified, about whose praises the

1 Cyrus tJie, younger. He attempted to dethrone his brother Arta-
xerxes, and was killed at the battle of Cynaxa, B.C. 401.

2 Lysander defeated the Athenian fleet at the battle of -<Egos Potamos,
B.C. 405, and put an end to the Peloponnesian war.

CHAP. XVIIL CICERO ON OLD AGE. 245

report of all men was concurrent. How great a man have
we seen in Publius Crassus, late pontifex maximus ; how
great a man subsequently in Marcus Lepidus, invested with
the same sacerdotal office ! Why should I speak of Paulus or
Africanus ? or, as I have already done, about Maximus ? men
not only in whose expressed judgment, but even in whose
acquiescence authority resided. Old age, especially an honored
old age, has so great authority, that this is of more value than
all the pleasures of youth.

XVIII. But in my whole discourse remember that I am
praising that old age which is established on the foundations
of youth : from which this is effected which I once asserted
with the great approbation of all present — that wretched
was the old age which had to defend itself by speaking.
Neither gray hairs nor wrinkles can suddenly catch respect ;
but the former part of life honorably spent, reaps the fruits
of authority at the close. For these very observances, which
seem light and common, are marks of honor — to be saluted, to
be sought after, to receive precedence, to have persons rising
up to you, to be attended on the way, to be escorted home, to
be consulted ; points which, both among us and in other states,
in proportion as they are the most excellent in their morals, are
the most scrupulously observed. They say that Lysander the
Lacedsemonian, whom I mentioned a little above, was accus
tomed to remark, that Lacedsemon was the most honorable
abode for old age ; for nowhere is so much conceded to that
time of life, nowhere is old age more respected. Nay, further,
it is recorded that when at Athens, during the games, a cer
tain elderly person had entered the theater, a place was
nowhere offered him in that large assembly by his own
townsmen ; but when he had approached the Lacedaemonians,
who, as they were embassadors, had taken their seats together
in a particular place, they all rose up and invited the old
man to a seat ; and when reiterated applause had been be
stowed upon them by the whole assembly, one of them
remarked, that the Athenians knew what was right, but
were unwilling to do it. There are many excellent rules in
our college,1 but this of which I am treating especially, that
in proportion as each man has the advantage in age, so he

1 In nostro collegia. The College of Augurs is here meant, which
Cicero calls " amplissimi sacerdotii collegium."

246 CICERO ON OLD AGE. CHAP. xix.

takes precedence in giving his opinion ; and older augurs are
preferred not only to those who are higher in office, but even
to such as are in actual command. What pleasures, then, of
the body can be compared with the privileges of authority ?
which they who have nobly employed seem to me to have
consummated the drama of life, and not like inexpert per
formers to have broken down in the last act. Still old men
are peevish, and fretful, and passionate, and unmanageable
— nay, if we seek for such, also covetous : but these are the
faults of their characters, not of their old age. And yet
that peevishness and those faults which I have mentioned
have some excuse, not quite satisfactory indeed, but such
as may be admitted. They fancy that they are neglected,
despised, made a jest of; besides, in a weak state of body
every offense is irritating. All which defects, however,
are extenuated by good dispositions and qualities ; and this
may be discovered not only in real life, but on the stage,
from the two brothers that are represented in the Brothers f
how much austerity in the one, and how much gentleness in
the other ! Such is the fact : for as it is not every wine, so
it is not every man's life, that grows sour from old age. I
approve of gravity in old age, but this in a moderate degree,
like every thing else ; harshness by no means.2 What avarice
in an old man can propose to itself I can not conceive : for
can any thing be more absurd than, in proportion as less of
our journey remains, to seek a greater supply of provisions ?

XIX. A fourth reason remains, which seems most of all
to distress and render anxious our time of life, namely, the
near approach of death, which certainly can not be far distant
from old age. O wretched old man, who in so long a time
of life hast not seen that death is a thing to be despised!
Which either ought altogether to be regarded with indiffer
ence, if it entirely annihilates the mind, or ought even to be

1 AdelpM. A play of Terence : Demea and Micio are the names of the
two old men alluded to here.

* "Nothing is more despicable or more miserable, than the old age of
a passionate man. When the vigor of youth fails him, and his amuse
ments pall with frequent repetition, his occasional rage sinks by decay
of strength into peevishness ; that peevishness, for want of novelty and
variety, becomes habitual ; the world falls off from around him, and he
is left, as Homer expresses it, ' Qoivv&uv tyihov KrjpJ to devour his own
heart in solitude and contempt." — Rambler, No. 11.

CHAP. six. CICERO ON OLD AGE. 247

desired, if it leads it to a place where it is destined to be im
mortal.1 Yet no third alternative certainly can be found.

What, therefore, should I fear, if after death I am sure
either not to be miserable or to be happy ? Although who is
so foolish, though he be young, as to be assured that he will
live even till the wtsakig ? Nay, that period of life has
many more probabilities of death than ours has : young
men more readily fall into diseases, suffer more severely, are
cured with more difficulty, and therefore few arrive at old
age. Did not this happen so, we should live better and more
wisely, for intelligence, and reflection, and judgment reside
in old men, and if there had been none of them, no states
could exist at all. But I return to the imminence of death.
What charge is that against old age, since you see it to be
common to youth also ? I experienced not only in the case
of my own excellent son, but also in that of your brothers,
Scipio, men plainly marked out for the highest distinction,

1 "I thank God I have not those straight ligaments or narrow obli
gations to the world as to dote on life, or be convulst and tremble at the
name of death : not that I am insensible of the dread and horror thereof
or by taking into the bowels of the deceased continual sight of anatomies,
skeletons, or cadaverous reliques like vespillores, or grave-makers ; I am
become stupid, or have forgot the apprehension of mortality, but that
marshaling all the honors, and contemplating the extremities thereof, I
find not any thing therein able to daunt my courage of a man, much less
a well resolved Christian ; and therefore am not angry at the error of
our first parents, or unwilling to bear a part of this common fall, and, like
the best of them, to die ; that is, to cease to breathe, to take a farewell
of the elements, to be a kind of nothing for a moment, to be within one
instant of a spirit. When I take a full view and circle of myself without
this reasonable moderator and equal piece of justice, I do conceive my
self the miserablest person extant ; were there not another life that I
hope for, all the vanities of this world should not intreat a moment's
breath from me ; could the devil work my belief to imagine I could never
die, I would not outlive that very thought ; I have so abject a conceit
of this common way of existence, this retaining to the sun and elements
— I can not think this is to be a man, or to live according to the dignity
of humanity : in expectation of a better, I can with patience embrace
this life ; yet in my best meditations do often defy death ; I honor any
man that contemns it, nor can highly love any that is afraid of it. This
makes me naturally love a soldier, and honor those tattered and con
temptible regiments that will die at the command of a sergeant. For a
pagan, there may be some motives to be in love with life ; but for a
Christian to be amazed at death, I see not how he can escape this dilem
ma, that he is too sensible of this life, or hopeless of the life to come." —
Sir Thomas Browne's Religio Medici, chap, xxxviii.

248 CICERO ON OLD AGE. CHAP. xix.

that death was common to every period of life. Yet a young
man hopes that he will live a long time, which expectation
an old man can not entertain. His hope is but a foolish one :
for what can be more foolish than to regard uncertainties as
certainties, delusions as truths ? An old man indeed has
nothing to hope for ; yet he is in so much the happier state
than a young one ; since he has already attained what the
other is only hoping for. The one is wishing to live long,
the other has lived long. And yet, good gods ! what is there
in man's life that can be called long ? For allow the latest
period: let us anticipate the age of the kings of the Tar-
tessii. For there dwelt, as I find it recorded, a man named
Arganthonius at Gades,1 who reigned for eighty years, and
lived 120. But to my mind, nothing whatever seems of long
duration, in which there is any end. For when that arrives,
then the time which has passed has flowed away ; that only
remains which you have secured by virtue and right conduct.
Hours indeed depart from us, and days and months and
years; nor does past time ever return, nor can it be dis
covered what is to follow. Whatever time is assigned to
each to live, with that he ought to be content : for neither
need the drama be performed entire by the actor, in order
to give satisfaction, provided he be approved in whatever
act he may be : nor need the wise man live till the
plaudite* For the short period of life is long enough
for living well and honorably;8 and if you should advance

1 Gades, a small island in the Atlantic, now Cadiz. It was anciently
called Tartessus and Erythia.

2 The last word of the play which invites the applause of the audience.
It is here equivalent to the phrase, 'the fall of the curtain.'

3 " Glory is the portion of virtue, the sweet reward of honorable toils,
the triumphant crown which covers the thoughtful head of the disinte
rested patriot, or the dusty brow of the victorious warrior. Elevated by
so sublime a prize, the man of virtue looks down with contempt on all
the allurements of pleasure, and all the menaces of danger. Death itself
loses its terrors when he considers that its dominion extends only over
a part of him, and that, in spite of death and time, the rage of the ele
ments, and the endless vicissitudes of human affairs, he is assured of an
immortal fame among all the sons of men. There surely is a Being who
presides- over the universe ; and who with infinite wisdom and power
lias reduced the jarring elements into just order and proportion. Let
speculative reasoners dispute how far this beneficent Being extends his
care, and whether he prolongs our existence beyond the grave, in order
to bestow on virtue its just reward, and render it fully triumphant. The

CHAP. six. CICERO ON OLD AGE. 249

further, you need no more grieve than farmers do when the
loveliness of spring-time hath passed, that summer and
autumn have come. /(For spring represents the time of youth,
and gives promise of the future fruits ; the remaining seasons
are intended for plucking and gathering in those fruits. Now
the harvest of old age, as I have often said, is the recollection
and abundance of blessings previously secured. In truth
every thing that happens agreeably to nature is to be reckoned
among blessings. What, however, is so agreeable to nature
as for an old man to die ? which even is the lot of the young,
though nature opposes and resists. And thus it is that
young men seem to me to die, just as when the violence of
flame is extinguished by a flood of water ; whereas old men
die, as the exhausted fire goes out, spontaneously, without
the exertion of any force : and as fruits when they are
green are plucked by force from the trees, but when ripe and
mellow drop off, so violence takes away their lives from
youths, maturity from old men ; a state which to me indeed
is so delightful that the nearer I approach to death, I seem
as it were to be getting sight of land, and at length, after a
long voyage, to be just coming into harbor.1, * %

man of morals, without deciding any thing on so aubious a subject, is
satisfied with the portion marked out to him by the supreme Disposer
of all things. Gratefully he accepts of that further reward prepared for
him ; but is disappointed, he thinks not virtue an empty name, but justly
esteeming it its own reward, he gratefully acknowledges the bounty of
his Creator, who, by calling him into existence, has thereby afforded him
an opportunity of once acquiring so • invaluable a possession." — Hume's
Essays, Essay 16.

1 " It is curious to observe the difference in the estimate formed by
Cicero and the great moralist of the last century on the condition of old
age and the proximity of death. A difference depending partly, no doubt,
upon the temperament of the two men, but still more on their religious
notions. The other miseries which waylay our passage through the
world, wisdom may escape, and fortitude may conquer ; by caution and
circumspection, we may steal along with very little to obstruct or incom
mode us ; by spirit and vigor we may force a way, and reward tho
vescalion by conquest, by the pleasures of victory. But a time must como
when our policy and bravery shall be equally useless ; when we shall
all sink into helplessness and sadness, without any power of receiving
solace from the pleasures that have formerly delighted us, or any pros
pect of emerging into a second possession of the blessings that we havo
lost However age may discourage us by its appearance from consider
ing it in prospect, we shall all by degrees certainly be old, and therefore
we ought to inquire what provision can be made against that time of

1J*

^50 CICERO ON OLD AGE. CHAP. xx.

XX. Of all the periods of life there is a definite limit ;
but of old age there is no limit fixed ; and life goes on very
well in it, so long as you are able to follow up and attend to
the duty of your situation, and, at the same time, to care
nothing about death ; whence it happens that old age is even
of higher spirit and bolder than youth. Agreeable to this
was the answer given to Pisistratus,1 the tyrant, by Solon ;
when on the former inquiring, "in reliance on what hope
he so boldly withstood him," the latter is said to have
answered, "on old age." The happiest end of life is this —
when the mind and the other senses being unimpaired, the
same nature, which put it together, takes asunder her own
work. As in the case of a ship or a house, he who built them
takes them down most easily ; so the same nature which has
compacted man, most easily breaks him up. Besides, every
fastening of glue, when fresh, is with difficulty torn asunder,
but easily when tried by time. Hence it is that that short rem
nant of life should be neither greedily coveted, nor without
reason given up : and Pythagoras forbids us to abandon the
station or post of life without the orders of our commander,
that is of God.2 There is indeed a saying of the wise Solon, in

distress ? what happiness can be stored up against the winter of life ?
and how we may pass our latter years with serenity and cheerfulness ?
If it has been found by the experience of mankind, that not even the best
seasons of life are able to supply sufficient gratifications without antici
pating uncertain felicities, it can not surely be supposed that old age,
worn with labors, harassed with anxieties, and tortured with diseases,
should have any gladness of its own, or feel any satisfaction from the
contemplation of the present. All the comfort that can now be expect
ed must be recalled from the past, or borrowed from the future ; the
past is very soon exhausted ; all the events or actions of which the
memory can afford pleasure, are quickly recollected ; and the future lies
beyond the grave, where it can be reached only by virtue and devotion.
Piety is the only proper and adequate relief of decaying man." — Ramb
ler, No. 69.

1 Pisistratus, tyrant of Athens, reigned thirty-three years, and died
about B.C. 527.

3 Upon this passage Melmoth has a note, of which the following is an
abstract: "Although the practice of suicide too generally prevailed among
the ancient Greeks and Romans, yet it was a practice condemned by the
best and wisest of their philosophers. Nothing can be more clear and
express than the prohibition of Pythagoras with respect to this act, as
cited by Cicero in the present passage ; and in this he was followed both
by Socrates and Plato, those noblest and most enlightened of the pagan
moralists, considered suicide as an act of rebellion against the authority

CHAP. xx. CICERO ON OLD AGE. 251

which he declares that he does not wish his own death to be
unattended by the grief and lamentation of friends. He

of the Supreme Being, who having placed man in his present post, hath
reserved to himself alone the right of determining the proper time for his
dismission. Agreeably to these principles, Cicero in his relation of
Scipio's dream, represents the departed spirit of Emilius as assuring his
son, who had expressed an impatience of joining him in the heavenly
mansions, that there wag no admittance into those regions of felicity for
the man who attempted to force his way into them by his own unau
thorized act. The Platonic poet, it is well known, places those unhappy
persons in a state of punishment, who not having the piety and the cour
age to support their misfortunes with due resignation, impiously endeav
ored to deliver themselves by venturing to be their own executioners."

Such were the sentiments of the most approved moralists among the
ancient philosophers ; the doctrine of the Stoics, it must be acknowledg
ed, was more relaxed upon this important article ; but although they did
not scruple to represent it even as a duty in some very particular circum
stances, they ought, if they had reasoned consequentially from their own
principles, to have held it forth as highly criminal in all. For there is
no precept of morality which they inculcate more frequently, nor in
stronger terms, than an unlimited submission to the dispensations of
Providence ; the truth is, the ancient writers of this sect are not more at
variance with reason than with themselves in what they have delivered
upon this subject. Inconsistency, indeed, is one of the characteristics!
marks of the Stoical system, as Plutarch has proved by a variety of in
stances drawn from the writings of Chrysippus. Those of Seneca and
Epictetus may equally be produced in support of the same charge, so
far at least as relates to their sentiments on the present question ; for
they sometimes contend for the lawfulness of suicide without any restric
tion, sometimes only under very peculiar circumstances, and sometimes
zealously press upon their disciples, as an indispensable obligation, tho
duty of a pious acquiescence under all the various calamities of human
life.

Agreeably to this last position, Seneca, in answer to a querulous letter
he had received from his friend Lucilius, writes thus: — "A wise and
good man," says he, " should stand prepared for all events, remembering
that he is destined to pass through a world where pain and sorrow, disease
and infirmity, are posted in his way. It is not in his power to change
these conditions upon which he receives his present existence ; but it
certainly is to submit to them with such fortitude and acquiescence in
the laws of nature as becomes a virtuous mind. It should be our con
stant endeavor, therefore, to reconcile our minds to these unalterable
laws of Providence, and to submit to them without murmur or com
plaint ; fully persuaded that every thing is as it ought to be, and that the
government of the world is in the hands of the Supreme Being. To de
liver himself up to that Being with an implicit and unreserved resigna
tion, is the merit of a truly great soul, as it is of a base and little mind
to entertain unworthy suspicions of the order established in the world,
to attempt to break through the laws of Providence ; and instead ©f cor-

252 CICERO ON OLD AGE. CHAP, xx

wishes, I suppose, that he should be dear to his friends. But
I know not whether Ennius does not say with more propriety,

" Let no one pay me honor with tears, nor celebrate my funeral
with mourning."

He conceives that a death ought not to be lamented which
an immortality follows. Besides a dying man may have
some degree of consciousness, but that for a short time, espe
cially in the case of an old man : after death, indeed, con
sciousness either does not exist, or it is a thing to be desired.
But this ought to be a subject of study from our youth to be
indifferent about death ; without which study no one can be
of tranquil mind. For die we certainly must, and it is
uncertain whether or not on this very day. He, therefore,
who at all hours dreads impending death, how can he be at
peace in his mind? concerning which there seems to be no
need of such long discussion, when I call to mind not only
Lucius Brutus, who was slain in liberating his country ; nor
the two Decii, who spurred on their steeds to a voluntary
death ; nor Marcus.. Atilius,1 who set out to execution, that
he might keep a promise pledged to the enemy ; nor the two

recting his own ways, impiously presume to correct the ways of God."
— Sen. Ess. 107.

To the same purpose, and with equal inconsistency, is the doctrine of
Epictetus ; on the one hand telling those who complain under the press
ure of any calamity that they have the remedy in their own power, and
on the other exhorting them to bear with a patient composure of mind
the evils that attend human life, and not presume to deliver themselves
by an unwarranted desertion of that post in which the Supreme Being
has thought proper to place them.

"With the exception of the cases of soldiers, suicide was not forbidden
"by the Roman law, nor was it discountenanced by public opinion. Vol
untary suicide, by the law of England is a crime ; and every suicide is
presumed to be voluntary until the contrary is made apparent. It is re
markable, however, that even English moralists are by no means unani
mous in condemning it ; both Hume and Godwin submit it to the test
of a mere calculation of expediency. The Code Penal of France contains
no legislation on the subject of suicide. Of the modern codes of Germany,
some adopt the silence of the French code, and others vary in their
particular provisions. In the Bavarian and Saxon codes, suicide is not
mentioned. The Prussian code forbids all mutilation of the dead body
of a self-murderer, under ordinary circumstances, but declares that it
shall be buried without any marks of respect, otherwise suitable to the
rank of the deceased.

1 Better known to the English reader by the name of Regulus.

CHAP. xxi. CICERO ON OLD AGE. 253

Scipios, who even with their very bodies sought to obstruct
the inarch of the Carthaginians ; nor your grandfather Lucius
Paulus,1 who by his death atoned for the temerity of his
colleague in the disgraceful defeat at Cannas; nor Marcus
Marcellus,2 whose corpse not even the most merciless foe
suffered to go without the honor of sepulcher : but that our
legions, as I have remarked in my Antiquities, have often
gone with cheerful and undaunted mind to that place from
which they believed that they should never return. Shall,
then, well-instructed old men be afraid of that which young
men, and they not only ignorant, but mere peasants, de
spise ? On the whole, as it seemed to me indeed, a satiety of
all pursuits causes a satiety of life. There are pursuits pe
culiar to boyhood ; do therefore young men regret the loss of
them ? There are also some of early youth ; does that now
settled age, which is called middle life, seek after these ?
There are also some of this period ; neither are they looked for
by old age. There are some final pursuits of old age ; accord
ingly, as the pursuits of the earlier parts of life fall into
disuse, so also do those of old age ; and when this has taken
place, satiety of life brings on the seasonable period of death.3

XXI. Indeed I do not see why I should not venture to
tell you what I myself think concerning death ; because I

1 Lucius Paulus fell at the battle of Cannae, which was brought on by
the rashness of his colleagues, Terentius Varro, B.C. 216: 40,000 Romans
were killed in this battle.

2 M. Marcellus, a Roman consul who fought against Hannibal. He
was killed in an ambuscade, A.u.c. 546.

3 " Confound not the distinctions of thy life which nature hath divided,
that is youth, adolescence, manhood, and old age ; nor, in these divided
periods, wherein thou art in a manner four, conceive thyself but one.
Let every division be happy in its proper virtues, nor one vice run through
all. Let each distinction have its salutary transition, and critically de
liver thee from the imperfections of the former, so ordering the whole that
prudence and virtue may have the largest section. Do as a child, but
when thou art a child, and ride not on a reed at twenty. He who hath
not taken leave of the follies of his youth, and in his maturer state scarce
got out of that division, disproportionately divideth his days, crowds up
the latter part of his life, and leaves too narrow a corner for the age of
wisdom, and so hath room to be a man scarce longer than he hath been
a youth. Rather than to make this confusion, anticipate the virtues of
age, and live long without the infirmities of it. So mayest thou count
up thy days, as some do Adam's, that is by anticipation. So mayest
thou be co-etaneous unto thy elders, and a father unto thy cotempora-
ries." — Sir T. Browne's " Christian Morals," part 3, ch. 8.

254 CICERO ON OLD AGE. CHAP. xzi.

fancy I see it so much the more clearly, in proportion as I
am less distant from it. I am persuaded that your fathers,
Publius Scipio, and Caius Lselius, men of the greatest
eminence and very dear friends of mine, are living ; and that
life too which alone deserves the name of life.1 For while

1 In another of his writings, "The Tusculan Questions," Cicero thus
expresses himself: "There is, I know not how, in minds, a certain pre
sage as it were, of a future existence. And this takes the deepest root,
and is most discoverable in the greatest geniuses and most exalted minds."
It was naturally to be expected that far more distinct and elevated views
should be entertained upon this subject subsequently to the dawn of the
Christian dispensation, and it is most interesting to observe both the
resemblances and the contrasts which obtain between the views of Cice
ro, the most enlightened of heathen advocates for the soul's immortality,
and of Christian moralists — the analogies doubtless arising from tho
universality and instinctivencss of the notion, and the differences being
readily explained by the fuller light shed upon the subject by the Chris
tian revelation. We will select Addison as one of the most charming,
if not one of the most profound of the latter school. In stating the argu
ments for the immortality of the soul, in one of his elegant essays, he has
the following observations: — "I consider these several proofs drawn:
First, from the nature of the soul itself, and particularly its immateriality,
which though not absolutely necessary to the eternity of its duration,
has, I think, been evinced to almost a demonstration. Secondly. From
its passions and sentiments. As particularly from its love of existence,
its horror of annihilation, and its hopes of immortality, with that secret
satisfaction winch it finds in the practice of virtue, and that uneasiness
which follows in it upon the commission of vice. Thirdly, From tho
nature of tho Supreme Being, whose justice, wisdom, goodness, and
veracity, are all concerned in this great point. But among these and
other excellent arguments for the immortality of the soul, there is one
drawn from the perpetual progress of the soul to its perfection, without
a possibility of its ever arriving at it, which is a hint that I do not remem
ber to have seen opened and improved by others who have written upon
this subject, though it seems to me to carry a great weight with it. How
can it enter into the thoughts of man, that the soul, which is capable of
such immense perfections, and of receiving new improvements to all
eternity, shall fall -away into nothing almost as soon as it is created ? Are
such abilities made for no purpose ? A brute arrives at a point of per
fection that ho can never pass in a few years ; he has all the endowments
he is capable of, and were ho to live ten thousand more, would be the
same thing he is at present. Were a human soul thus at a stand in her
accomplishments, were her faculties to be full blown and incapable of
further enlargements, I could imagine it might fall away insensibly, and
drop at once into a state of annihilation. But can we believe a thinking
being that is in a perpetual progress of improvements, and traveling on
from perfection to perfection, after having just looked abroad into tho
works of its Creator, and make a few discoveries of Ms infinite goodness,

/HAP. XXL CICERO ON OLD AGE. 255

we are shut up in this prison of the body, we are fulfilling as
it were the function and painful task of destiny: for the
heaven-born soul has been degraded from its dwelling-
place above, and as it were buried in the earth, a situation
uncongenial to its divine and immortal nature. But I believe
that the immortal gods have shed souls into human bodies
that beings might exist who might tend the earth, and by
contemplating the order of the heavenly bodies, might imitate
it in the manner and regularity of their lives.1 Nor have
reason and argument alone influenced me thus to believe, but
likewise the high name and authority of the greatest philo
sophers. I used to hear that Pythagoras and the Pytha
goreans,2 who were all but our neighbors, who were formerly
called the Italian philosophers, had no doubt that we possess
souls derived from the universal divine mind. Moreover,

•wisdom, and power, must perish at her first setting out, and in the be
ginning of her inquiries ?

" There is not, in my opinion, a more pleasing and triumphant conside
ration in religion than this, of the perpetual progress which the soul
makes toward the perfection of its nature, without ever arriving at a
period of it. To look upon the»soul as going on from strength to strength ;
to consider that she is to shine forever, with new accessions of glory,
and brighten to all eternity ; that she will be still adding virtue to virtue,
and knowledge to knowledge, carries in it something wonderfully agree
able to that ambition which is natural to the mind of man. Nay, it
must be a prospect pleasing to God himself, to see his creation forever
beautifying in his eyes, -and drawing nearer to him by greater degrees
of resemblance." — Spectator, No. 111.

1 The Pythagoreans, according to Aristotle (Eth. Magn. I.), were the
first who determined any thing in moral philosophy. Their ethics are of
the loftiest arid most spiritual description. Virtue was with them a har
mony, an unity, and an endeavor to resemble the Deity. The whole life
of man should be an attempt to represent on earth the beauty and har
mony displayed in the order of the universe. The mind should have the
body and the passions under perfect control ; the gods should be wor
shiped by simple purifications, offerings, and above all, by sincerity and
purity of the heart.

2 The Pythagoreans represented the souls of men as light particles of
the universal soul diffused through the whole world (Cic. do Nat. Deor.
i. 11). The souls of the gods were considered as proceeding directly
from the central fire, which was on this account designated " mother of
the gods," while the souls of men proceeded from the sun, which was a
mere reflux of the central fire. The soul of man was divided into three
parts, vovz, </>/)£-vcc, and dvfj.o';. The two former were considered as the-
rational half of the soul, and had their seat in the brain. The last, or
•&v[j,o£, was the animal half, and its seat was in the heart. Diog. Laert.
viii. 19. 30, Plut. de Plac. Phil. iv. 5.

256 CICERO ON OLD AGE. CHAP. xxi.

the arguments were conclusive to me, which Socrates de
livered on the last day of his life concerning the immortality
of the soul — he who was pronounced by the oracle of Apollo
the wisest of all men. But why say more ? I have thus per
suaded myself, such is my belief: that since such is the
activity of our souls, so tenacious their memory of things
past, and their sagacity regarding things future — so many
arts, so many sciences, so many discoveries, that the nature
which comprises these qualities can not be mortal j1 and since
the mind is ever in action and has no source of motion,
because it moves itself, I believe that it never will find any
end of motion, because it never will part from itself; and
that since the nature of the soul is uncompounded, and has
not in itself any admixture heterogeneous and dissimilar to it
self, I maintain that it can not undergo dissolution ; and if this
be not possible, it can not perish : and it is a strong argument,
that men know very many things before they are born, since
when mere boys, while they are learning difficult subjects, they
so quickly catch up numberless ideas, that they seem not to
be learning them for the first time, but to remember them,2 and
to be calling them to recollection.3 Thus did our Plato argue.

1 "The sublime attainments which man has been capable of making-
in science, and the wonders of his own creative art in that magnificent
scene to which he has known how to give new magnificence, have been
considered by many as themselves proofs of the immortality of a being
so richly endowed. When we view him, indeed, comprehending in his
single conception, the events of ages that have preceded him, and not
content with the past, anticipating events that are to begin only in ages
as remote in futurity as the origin of the universe is in the past, measur
ing the distance of the remotest planets, and naming in what year of
other centuries, the nations that are now gazing with astonishment on
some comet, are to gaze on it in its return, it is scarcely possible for us
to believe that a mind which seems equally capacious of what is infinite
in space and time, should only be a creature whose brief existence is
measurable by a few points of space, and a few moments of eternity." —
Brown's Moral Philosophy, lect. xcvii.

2 Reminisci et recordari. See Plato's dialogue called Meno, in which
it is attempted to be shown that all our knowledge is the reminiscence
of what has passed in some previous state of existence.

3 " That the soul had an existence prior to her connection with the
body, seems to have been an opinion of the highest antiquity ; as it may
be traced in the Chaldean, Egyptian, and Grecian theology, as far back
as there are any records remaining of their speculative tenets. This
general notion, however, was not maintained universally in the same
precise sense. Some considering the soul in its former state as subsist
ing only in the great soul of the universe, while others held its prior

CHAP. X23L CICERO ON OLD AGE, 257

XXII. Moreover, in Xenophon, Cyrus the elder,1 on his
death-bed, discourses thus : " Never imagine, O my dearest
sons, that when I have departed from you, I shall exist
nowhere, or cease to be : for while I was with you you
never saw my soul; though you concluded from the actions
which I performed that it was in this body. Believe,
therefore, that it still exists, though you will see nothing of
it. Nor, in truth, would the honors of illustrious men con
tinue after death, if their own spirits did not make us pre
serve a longer remembrance of them. I could never, indeed,
be persuaded that souls, while they were in mortal bodies,
lived ; and when they had quitted them, perished : nor, in
truth, that the soul became senseless when it made its escape
from a senseless body ; but that it then became wise when
freed from every corporeal admixture, it had become pure
and genuine. Besides, when the constitution of man is
broken up by death, it is clear whither each of its other parts
depart ; for they all return from the source from whence
they sprang : whereas, the soul alone, neither shows itself
when it is with us, nor when it departs. Further, you seo
there is nothing so like death as sleep. Yet the souls of per
sons asleep especially manifest their divine nature ; for when
they are disengaged and free, they foresee many future
events.2 From which we conclude in what state they will be

distinct and personal individuality. Those philosophers who maintained
the latter opinion, at least the generality of them, seem to have supposed
that the soul is sent down into this sublunary orb as into a place of pun
ishment for transgressions committed in a former state. And this theory
claims the greater attention, not only as it appears to have been adopted
both by the Pythagoric and Platonic schools, which undoubtedly produced
the most respectable philosophers that ever enlightened the Pagan world,
but as bearing strong marks of being primarily derived from the Mosaical
account of the fall of man." — (Melmoth, in loco). %

1 Cyrus Major. The character of this Cyrus is drawn by Xenophon
in his Cyropaedia. He was king of Persia, son of Cambyses and Man-
dane, daughter of Astyages, king of Media. He dethroned Astyages,
and transferred the Persian empire to the Medea. The Cyropaedia is not
to be looked upon as an authentic history, but as showing what a good
and virtuous prince ought to be.

2 " There is surely a nearer apprehension of any thing that delights us
in our dreams than in our waking senses, without this I were unhappy,
for my awakened judgment discontents me, ever whispering unto me that
I am from my friend, but my friendly dreams in night requite me and
make me think I am within his arms. I thank God for my happy
dreams, as I do for my good rest, for there is a satisfaction in them unto

258 CICERO ON OLD AGE. CHAP. xxn.

when they shall have altogether released themselves from the
fetters of the body. Wherefore, if this is the case, regard me

reasonable desires, and such as can be content with a fit of happiness.
And surely, it is not a melancholy conceit to think we are all asleep in
this world, and that the conceits of this life are as mere dreams to those
of the next, as the phantasms of the night to the conceits of the day.
There is an equal delusion in both, and the one doth but seem to be the
emblem or picture of the other ; we are somewhat more than ourselves
in our sleep, and the slumber of the body seems to be but the waking
of the soul. It is the ligation of sense, but the liberty of reason, and
our awakening conceptions do not match the fancies of our sleeps. I am
in no way facetious, not disposed for the mirth and galliardize of com
pany, yet in one dream I can compose a whole comedy, behold the ac
tion, apprehend the jests, and laugh myself awake at the conceits thereof.
Were my memory as faithful as my reason is then fruitful, I could never
study but in my dreams, and this time also would I choose for my devo
tions ; but our grosser memories have then so little hold of our abstracted
understandings that they forget the story, and can only relate to our
awakened souls, a confused and broken tale of that that hath passed.
Aristotle, who hath written a singular tract on sleep, hath not, methinks,
thoroughly defined it ; nor yet Galen, though he seem to have corrected
it ; for those noctambuloes and night-walkers, though in their sleep, do
yet enjoy the action of their senses, we must therefore say that there is
something in us that is not in the jurisdiction of Morpheus, and that
those abstracted and ecstatic souls do wa]k about in their own corps, as
spirits with the bodies they assume wherein they seem to hear, see, and
feel, though indeed, the organs are destitute of sense, and their natures
of those faculties that should inform them. Thus it is observed that men
sometimes upon the hour of their departure, do speak and reason above
themselves ; for then the soul, beginning to be freed from the ligaments
of the body, begins to reason like herself, and to discourse in a strain above
mortality." — Sir Thomas Browne's Religio Medici, part ii. chap. 11.

" Dreams," says Addison, " are an instance of that agility and perfection
which is natural to the faculties of the mind when they are disengaged
from the body. The soul is clogged and retarded in her operations when
she acts in conjunction with a companion, that is so heavy and unwieldy
in its motion. But in dreams it is wonderful to observe with what a
. sprightliness and alacrity she exerts herself. The slow of speech make
unpremeditated harangues, or converse readily in languages that they are
but little acquainted with. The grave abound in pleasantries, the dull
in repartees and points of wit. There is not a more painful action of the
mind than invention, yet in dreams it works with that ease and activity
that we are not sensible of when the faculty is employed. For instance,
I believe every one some time or other dreams that he is reading papers,
books, or letters, in which case the invention prompts so readily chat the
mind is imposed upon, and mistakes its own suggestions for the compo
sitions of another. I must not omit that argument for the excellency of
the soul which I have seen quoted out of Tertullian, namely, its power
of divining in dreams. That several such divinitions have been made,
none can question who believes the holy writings, or who has but the

CHAP. xxm. CICEEO OK' OLD AGE. 259

as a god, but if the soul is destined to perish along with the body,
yet you, reverencing the gods, who oversee and control all this
beautiful system, will affectionately and sacredly preserve my
memory." Such were the dying words of Cyrus.

XXTTT. Let me, if you please, revert to my own views.
No one will ever persuade me that either your father, Paulus,
or two gandfathers, Paulus and Africanus, or the father of
Africanus, or his uncle, or the many distinguished men whom
it is unnecessary to recount, aimed at such great exploits as
might reach to the recollection of posterity, had they not
perceived in their mind that posterity belonged to them. Do
you suppose, to boast a little of myself, after the manner of
old men, that I should have undergone such great toils,
by day and night, at home and in service, had I thought to
limit my glory by the same bounds as my life ? Would it not
have been far better to pass an easy and quiet life without
any toil or struggle ? But I know not how my soul, stretch
ing upward, has ever looked forward to posterity, as i^ when
it had departed from life, then at last it would begin to live.1

least degree of a common historical faith ; there being innumerable in
stances of this nature in several authors, both ancient and modern,
sacred and profane. Whether such dark presages, such visions of the
night, proceed from any latent power in the soul, during this her state
of abstraction, or from any communication with the Supreme Being, or
from any operation of subordinate spirits has been a great dispute among
the learned. The matter of fact is, I think, incontestible, and has been
looked upon as such by the greatest writers who have been never sus
pected either of superstition or enthusiasm. I do not suppose that the
soul in these instances is entirely loose and unfettered from the body : it
is sufficient if she is not so far sunk and immersed in matter, nor en
tangled and perplexed in her operations with such motions of blood and
spirits, as when she actuates the machine in its waking hours. The
corporeal union is slackened enough to give the mind more play. The
soul seems gathered within herself, and recovers that spring which is
broken and weakened when she operates more in concert with the body."
— Spectator, No. 487.

1 Dr. Thomas Brown attaches no value to the argument for the im
mortality of the soul, derived from the aspiration after it which is com
mon to all. "I am aware," he says, " that in judging from the mind it
self a considerable stress has often been laid on the existence of feelings
which admit of a very easy solution, without the necessity of ascribing
them to any instinctive foreknowledge of a state of immortal being.
Of this sort particularly seems to me an argument which, both in ancient
and modern times, has been brought forward as one of the most power
ful arguments for our continued existence, after life has seemed to close
upon us forever. I allude to the universal desire of this immortal exist-

260 CICEEO ON OLD AGE. CHAP. xxui.

And, indeed, unless this were the case, that souls were im
mortal, the souls of the noblest of men would not aspire
above all things to an immortality of glory.1 Why need I

ence. But surely, if life itself be pleasing, and even though there were
no existence beyond the grave — life might be still, by the benevolenco
of Him who conferred it, have been rendered a source of pleasure ; it is
not wonderful that we should desire futurity, since futurity is only pro
tracted life. It would, indeed, have been worthy of our astonishment if
man, loving his present life, and knowing that it was to terminate in the
space of a very few years, should not have regretted the termination of
what he loved ; that is to say, should not have wished the continuance
of it beyond the period of its melancholy close. The universal desiro
then, even if the desire were truly universal, would prove nothing, but
the goodness of Him who has made the realities of life — or if not tho
realities, the hopes of life — so pleasing that the mere loss of what 13
possessed, or hoped, appears like a positive evil of the most afflicting
kind," — Dr. Brown's Moral Philosophy, sec. 9t.

1 "I am fully persuaded that one of the best springs of generous and
worthy actions is having generous and worthy thoughts of ourselves.
"Whoever has a mean opinion of the dignity of his nature will act in no
higher a rank than he has allotted himself in his own estimation If ho
considers his being as circumscribed by the uncertain term of a few
years, his designs will be contracted into the same narrow space ho
imagines is to bound his existence. How can he exalt his thoughts to
any thing great and noble, who only believes that after a short turn on
the stage of this world, he is to sink into oblivion, and to lose his con
sciousness forever ? For this reason I am of opinion that so useful and
elevated a contemplation as that of the soul's immortality can not be re
sumed too often. There is not a more improving exercise to the human
mind than to be frequently reviewing its own great privileges and en
dowments, nor a more effectual means to awaken in us an ambition
raised above low objects and little pursuits, than to value ourselves as
heirs of eternity." — Hughes. Spectator, No. 210.

Upon the love of posthumous fame, Dr. Johnson has the following
observations : " If the love of fame is so far indulged by the mind as to
become independent and predominant ; it is dangerous and irregular,
but it may be usefully employed as an inferior and secondary motivej
and will serve sometimes to revive our activity, when we begh? to lan
guish and lose sight of that more certain, more valuable, and more dur
able reward, which ought always to be our first hope and our last But
it must be strongly impressed upon our minds that virtue is not to be
pursued as one of the means to fame ; but fame to be accepted as the
only recompense which mortals can bestow on virtue, to be accepted
with complacence, but not sought with eagerness Simply to be remem
bered is no advantage ; it is a privilege which satire as well as panegyric
can confer, and is not more enjoyed by Titus or Constantino than by Ti-
mocrean of Rhodes, of whom we only know from his epitaph, that he
had eaten many a meal, drank many a flagon, and uttered many a re
proach. The true satisfaction which is to be drawn from the conscious
ness that we shall share the attention of future tunes must arise from the

CHAP. xxin. CICERO ON OLD AGE. 261

adduce that the wisest man ever dies with the greatest equa
nimity, the most foolish with the least ? Does it not seem to
you that the soul, which sees more and further, sees that it
is passing to a better state, while that body, whose vision is
duller, does not see it ? I, indeed, am transported with eager
ness to see your fathers, whom I have respected and loved :
nor in truth is it those only I desire to meet whom I myself
have known ; but those also of whom I have heard or read,
and have myself written. Whither, indeed, as I proceed, no
one assuredly should easily force me back, nor, as they did
with Pelias, cook me again to youth. For if any god should
grant me, that from this period of life I should become a
child again and cry in the cradle, I should earnestly refuse
it:1 nor in truth should I like, after having run, as it were,
my course, to be called back to the starting-place2 from the
goal. For what comfort has life ? What trouble has it not,
rather? But grant that it has; yet it assuredly has either
satiety or limitation (of its pleasures). For I am not dis
posed to lament the loss of life, which many men, and those
learned men too, have often done ; neither do I regret that I
have lived since I have lived in such a way that I con
ceive I was not born in vain : and from this life I depart as
from a temporary lodging, not as from a home. For nature
has assigned it to us as an inn to sojourn in, not a place of
habitation. Oh, glorious day ! when I shall depart to that
divine company and assemblage of spirits, and quit this
troubled and polluted scene. For I shall go not only to those
great men of whom I have spoken before, but also to my
hope that with our name our virtues will be propagated, and that those
whom we can not benefit in our lives, may receive instruction from our
examples and incitement from our renown." — Rambler, No. 49.

1 " Though I think no man could live well once, but he that could live
twice, yet, for my own part I would not live over my hours past, or begin
again the thread of my days ; not upon Cicero's ground, because I have
lived them well, but for fear I should live them worse. I find my grow
ing judgment daily instruct me how to be better, but my untamed affec
tions and confirmed vitiosity make me daily do worse. I find in my
confirmed age the same sins I discovered in my youth ; I committed
many then, because I was a child ; and because I commit them still, I am
yet an infant ; therefore I perceive a man may be twice a child before
the days of dotage, and stand in need of Eson's bath before threescore."
— Sir Thomas Browne's Religio Medici, ch. 42.

2 Ad carceres a cake: carceres or repagula, from which the horses
started. A line called creta or calx was drawn, to mark the end of the

262 CICERO ON OLD AGE. CHAP.XXIII.

friend Cato,1 than whom never was better man born, nor
more distinguished for pious affection ; whose body was
burned by me, whereas, on the contrary, it was fitting that
mine should be burned by him. But his soul not deserting
me, but oft looking back, no doubt departed to those regions
whither it saw that I myself was destined to come. Which,
though a distress to me, I seemed patiently to endure : not that
I bore it with indifference, but I comforted myself with the
recollection that the separation and distance between us would
not continue long. For these reasons, O Scipio (since you
said that you with Loelius were accustomed to wonder at this),
old age is tolerable to me, and not only not irksome, but even
delightful. And if I am wrong in this, that I believe the
souls of men to be immortal, I willingly delude myself: nor
do I desire that this mistake, in which I take pleasure, should
be wrested from me as long as I live ; but if I, when dead,
shall have no consciousness, as some narrow-minded philoso
phers imagine, I do not fear lest dead philosophers should ridi
cule this my delusion. But if we are not destined to be immor
tal, yet it is a desirable thing for a man to expire at his fit time.
For, as nature prescribes a boundary to all other things, so does
she also to life. Now old age is the consummation of life, just
as of a play ; from the fatigue of which we ought to escape, es
pecially when satiety is superadded. This is what I had to say
on the subject of old age ; to which may you arrive ! that, after
having experienced the truth of those statements which you
have heard from me, you may be enabled to give them your ap
probation.

1 This apostrophe has suggested to the greatest of modern pulpit ora
tors one of his most eloquent perorations. "If," says Robert Hall, "the
mere conception of the reunion of good men in a future state infused a
momentary rapture into the mind of Tully ; if an airy speculation, for
there is reason to fear it had little hold on his convictions, could inspire
him with such delight, what may we be expected to feel who are assured
of such an event by the true sayings of God! How should we rejoice in
the prospect — the certainty, rather, of spending a blissful eternity with
those whom we loved on earth ; of seeing them emerge from the ruins
of the tomb, and the deeper ruins of the fall, not only uninjured, but
refined and perfected. What delight will it afford to renew the sweet
counsel we have taken together, to recount the toils of combat and the
labor of the way, and to approach not the house but the throne of God
in company, in order to join in the symphony of heavenly voices, and
lose ourselves amid the splendors and fruitions of the beatific vision." —
Funeral Sermon for Dr. Ryland.

PARADOXES.

ADDRESSED TO MARCUS BRUTUS.

I HAVE often observed, 0 Brutus, that your uncle,
Cato, when he delivered his opinion in the senate, was
accustomed to handle important points of philosophy, in
consistent with popular and forensic usage; but that yet,
in speaking, he managed them so that even these seemed
to the people worthy of approbation ; which was so
much the greater excellency in him, than either in you or
in me, because we are more conversant in that philosophy
which has produced a copiousness of expression, and in
which those things are propounded which do not widely
differ from the popular opinion. But Cato, in my opinion a
complete Stoic, both holds those notions which certainly do
not approve themselves to the common people ; and belongs
to that sect which aims at no embellishments, and does not
spin out an argument. He therefore succeeds in what he
has purposed, by certain pithy and, as it were, stimulating
questions. There is, however, nothing so incredible that it
may not be made plausible by eloquence ; nothing so rough
and uncultivated that it may not, in oratory, become brilliant
and polished.

As I have been accustomed to think thus, I have made a
bolder attempt than he himself did of whom I am speaking.
For Cato is accustomed to treat stoically of magnanimity, of
modesty, of death, and of all the glory of virtue, of the im
mortal gods, and of patriotism, with the addition of the orna
ments of eloquence. But I have, for amusement, digested
into common-places those topics which the Stoics scarcely
prove in their retirement and in their schools. Such
topics are termed, even by themselves, paradoxes, be
cause they are remarkable, and contrary to the opinion of
all men. I have been desirous of trying whether they
might not come into publicity, that is before the forum, and
be so expressed as to be approved; or whether learned

264 CICERO'S PARADOXES. PAR. i.

expressions were one thing, and a popular mode of address
another. I undertook this with the more pleasure, because
these very paradoxes, as they are termed, appear to me to
be the most Socratic, and by far the most true. Accept
therefore this little work, composed during these shorter
nights, since that work of my longer watchings appeared in
your name. You will have here a specimen of the manner
I have been accustomed to adopt when I accommodate those
things which in the schools are termed theses to our oratorical
manner of speaking. I do not, however, expect that you
will look upon yourself as indebted to me for this perform
ance which is not such as to be placed, like the Minerva of
Phidias, in a citadel, but still such as may appear to have
issued from the same studio.

PARADOX I.

THAT VIRTUE IS THE ONLY GOOD.

I AM apprehensive that this position may seem to some
among you to have been derived from the schools of the
Stoics,1 and not from my own sentiments. Yet I will tell
you my real opinion, and that too more briefly than so im
portant a matter requires to be discussed. By Hercules, I
never was one who reckoned among good and desirable

1 The ethical doctrines of the Stoics have attracted most attention, as
exhibited in the lives of distinguished Greeks and Romans. To live
according to nature was the basis of their ethical system ; but by this it
was not meant that a man should follow his own particular nature ; ho
must make his life conformable to the nature of the whole of things.
This principle is the foundation of all morality; and it follows that
morality is connected with philosophy. To know what is our relation
to the whole of things, is to know what we ought to be and to do. This
fundamental principle of the Stoics is indisputable, but its application is
not always easy, nor did they all agree in their exposition of it. Some
things were good, some bad, and some indifferent ; the only good things
were virtue, wisdom, justice, temperance, and the like. The truly wise
man possesses all knowledge ; he is perfect and sufficient in himself; he
despises all that subjects to its power the rest of mankind ; he feels pain,
but he is not conquered by it. But the morality of the Stoics, at least
in the later periods, though it rested on a basis apparently so sound,
permitted the wise man to do nearly every thing that he liked. Such a
system, it has been well observed, might do for the imaginary wise man
of the Stoics ; but it was not a system whose general adoption was com
patible with the existence of any actual society,

PAR. I. CICERO'S PARADOXES. 265

things, treasures, magnificent mansions, interest, power, oi
those pleasures to which mankind are most chiefly addicted.
For I have observed, that those to whom these things
abounded, still desired them most : for the thirst of cupidity
is never filled or satiated. They are tormented not only
with the lust of increasing, but with the fear of losing what
they have. I own that I often look in vain for the good
sense of our ancestors, those most continent men, who
affixed the appellation of good to those weak, fleeting, cir
cumstances of wealth, when in truth and fact their senti
ments were the very reverse.1 Can any bad man enjoy a
good thing? Or, is it possible for a man not to be good,
when he lives in the very abundance of good things?
And yet we see all those things so distributed that
wicked men possess them, and that they are inauspicious
to the good. Now let any man indulge his raillery, if he
please ; but right reason will ever have more weight with
me than the opinion of the multitude. Nor shall I ever
account a man, when he has lost his stock of cattle, or
furniture, to have lost his good things. Nor shall I seldom
speak in praise of Bias, who, if I mistake not, is reckoned
among the seven wise men. For when the enemy took pos
session of Priene, his native country, and when the rest so
managed their flight as to carry off with them their effects,
on his being recommended by a certain person to do the
same, " Why," answered he, " I do so, for I carry with me
all my possessions." He did not so much as esteem those
playthings of fortune, which we even term our blessings, to
be his own.3 But some one will ask, What then is a real
good ? Whatever is done uprightly, honestly, and virtuously,
is truly said to be done well ; and whatever is upright, honest,
and agreeable to virtue, that alone, as I think, is a good thing.
But these matters, when they are more loosely discussed,

1 " I can not call riches better than the baggage of virtue ; the Roman
word is better, "impedimenta;" for as the baggage is to an army, so ia
riches to virtue, it can not be spared nor left behind, but it hindereth the
march ; yea, and the care of it sometimes loseth or disturbeth the vic
tory ; of great riches there is no real use, except it be in the distribu
tion ; the rest is but conceit." — Lord Bacon, Essay 34.

2 Ovid expresses the same idea in the following passage:

"Et genus et proavos et quce non fecimua ipsi
Yix ea nostra voco,"
12

266 CICERO'S PARADOXES. PAR. i.

appear somewhat obscure ; but those things which seemed
to be discussed with more subtlety than is necessary in
words, may be illustrated by the lives and actions of the
greatest of men. I ask then of you, whether the men who
left to us this empire, founded upon so noble a system,
seem ever to have thought of gratifying avarice by money ;
delight by delicacy ; luxury by magnificence ; or pleasure
by feasting ? * Set before your eyes any one of our monarchs.
Shall I begin with Romulus? Or, after the state was free,
with those who liberated it? By what steps then did
Romulus ascend to heaven ? By those which these people
term good things? Or by his exploits and his virtues?
What ! are we to imagine, that the wooden or earthen dishes
of Numa Pompilius were less acceptable to the immortal
gods, than the embossed plate of others? I pass over our
other kings, for all of them, excepting Tarquin the Proud,
were equally excellent. Should any one ask, What did
Brutus perform when he delivered his country ? Or, as
to those who were the participators of that design, what was
their aim, and the object of their pursuit ? Lives there the
man who can regard as their object, riches, pleasure, or any
thing else than acting the part of a great and gallant man ?
What motive impelled Caius Mucius, without the least hope
of preservation, to attempt the death of Porsenna? What
impulse kept Codes to the bridge, singly opposed to the
whole force of the enemy ? What power devoted the elder
and the younger Decius, and impelled them against armed
battalions of enemies ? What was the object of the continence
of Caius Fabricius, or of the frugality of life of Manius
Curius ? What were the motives of those two thunderbolts
of the Punic war, Publius and Cneius Scipio, when they
proposed with their own bodies to intercept the progress of

i Horace develops the same thought. In commending decision of
character, he writes :

Hac arte Pollux et vagus Hercules
Enisus arces attigit igneas :
Quos inter Augustus recumbens

Purpureo bibit ore nectar.
Hac te merentem, Bacche pater, tuse
Vexere tigres indocili jugum
Collo trahentes : hac Quirinus

Martis equis Acheronta fugit. — Carm. lib. iii. carm. 3.

PAR.I. CICERO'S PARADOXES. 267

the Carthaginians ? What did the elder, what did the younger
Africanus propose ? What were the views of Cato, who lived
between the times of both ? What shall I say of innumerable
other instances ; for we abound in examples drawn from our
own history ; can we think that they proposed any other
object in life but what seemed glorious and noble ?

Now let the deriders of this sentiment and principle come
forward ; let even them take their choice, whether they would
rather resemble the man who is rich in marble palaces, adorned
with ivory, and shining with gold, in statues, in pictures, in
embossed gold and silver plate, in the workmanship of Corin
thian brass, or if they will resemble Fabricius, who had, and
who wished to have, none of these things. And yet they are
readily prevailed upon to admit that those things which a%
transferred, now hither, now thither, are not to be ranked
among good things, while at the same time they strongly
maintain, and eagerly dispute, that pleasure is the highest
good ; a sentiment that to me seems to be that of a brute,
rather than that of a man.1 Shall you, endowed as you are

1 That pleasure is man's chiefest good (because indeed it is the per
ception of good that is properly pleasure), is an assertion most certainly
true, though under the common acceptance of it not only false but odious :
for, according to this, pleasure and sensuality pass for terms equivalent ;
and therefore he that takes it in this sense alters the subject of the dis
course. Sensuality is indeed a part, or rather one kind of pleasure, such
an one as it is ; for pleasure in general is the consequent apprehension
of a suitable object, suitably applied to a rightly disposed faculty ; and
so must be conversant both about the faculties of the body and of the
soul respectively ; as being the result of the functions belonging to both.

"Since God never created any faculty either in soul or body, but
withal prepared for it a suitable object, and that in order to its gratifica
tion ; can we think that religion was designed only for a contradiction
to nature ? And, with the greatest and most irrational tyranny in the
world, to tantalize and tie men up from enjoyment, in the midst of all
the opportunies of enjoyment ? To place men with the furious affections
of hunger and thirst in the very bosom of plenty, and then to tell them
that the envy of Providence has sealed up every thing that is suitable
under the character of unlawful ? For certainly, first to frame appetites
fit to receive pleasure, and then to interdict them with a ' touch not,
taste not,' can be nothing else than only to give them occasion to devour
and prey upon themselves, and so to keep men under the perpetual tor
ment of an unsatisfied desire ; a thing hugely contrary to the natural
felicity of the creature, and consequently to the wisdom and goodness
of the great Creator. There is no doubt but a man, while he resigns
himself up to the brutish guidance of sense and appetite, haa no relish

268 CICERO'S PARADOXES- PAR. L

by God or by nature, whom we may term the mother of all
things, with a soul (than which there exists nothing more
excellent and more divine), so degrade and prostrate yourself
as to think there is no difference between yourself and any
quadruped ? Is there any real good that does not make him
who possesses it a better man ? For in proportion as every
man has the greatest amount of excellence, he is also in that
proportion most praiseworthy ; nor is there any excellence
on which the man who possesses it may not justly value
himself. But what of these qualities resides in pleasure ?
Does it make a man better, or more praiseworthy ? Does
any man extol himself in boasting or self-recommendation
for having enjoyed pleasures? Now if pleasure, which is
oefended by the advocacy of many, is not to be ranked
among good things, and if the greater it is the more it
dislodges the mind from its habitual and settled position ; 1
surely to live well and happily, is nothing else than to live
virtuously and rightly.2

at all for the spiritual, refined delights of a soul clarified by grace and
virtue. The pleasures of an angel can never be the pleasures of a hog.
But this is the thing that we contend for, that a man, having once ad
vanced himself to a state of superiority over the control of his inferior ap
petites, finds an infinitely more solid and sublime pleasure in the delights
proper to his reason, than the same person had ever conveyed to him by
the bare ministry of his senses." — South's Sermons, vol. i. sermon 1.

1 " All pleasures that affect the body must needs weary, because they
transport ; and all transportation is a violence, and no violence can bo
lasting, but determines upon the falling of the spirits, which are not able
to keep up that height of motion that the pleasures of the senses raise
them to ; and therefore, how inevitably does an immoderate laughter
end in a sigh ? which is only nature's recovering itself after a force done
to it. But the religious pleasure of a well-disposed mind moves gently,
and therefore constantly ; it does not affect by rapture and ecstasy ; but
is like the pleasure of health, which is still and sober, yet greater and
stronger than those that call up the senses with grosser and more affect
ing impressions. God has given no man a body as strong as his appe
tites ; but has corrected the boundlessness of his voluptuous desires by
stinting his strength and contracting his capacities." — Ibid.

2 "And now, upon the result of all, I suppose that to exhort men to
be religious is only in other words to exhort them to take their pleasure.
A pleasure high, rational, and angelical ; a pleasure, embased with no
appendent sting, no consequent loathing, no remorses, or bitter farewells;
but such an one as, being honey in the month, never turns to gall or
gravel in the belly. A pleasure made for the soul, and the soul for that ;
suitable to its spirituality, and equal to all its capacities. Such an one
as grows fresher upon enjoyment, and though continually fed upon, yet

PAR. ii. CICERO'S PARADOXES. 269

PARADOX II.

A MAN WHO IS VIRTUOUS IS DESTITUTE OF NO REQUISITE OF
A HAPPY LIFE.

NEVER, for my part, did I imagine Marcus Regulus to
have been distressed, or unhappy, or wretched; because his
magnanimity was not tortured by the Carthaginians; nor
was the weight of his authority ; nor was his honor ; nor
was his resolution ; nor was one of his virtues ; nor, in
short, did his soul suffer their torments, for a soul with the
guard and retinue of so many virtues, never surely could be
taken, though his body was made captive.1 We have seen

is never devoured. A pleasure that a man may call as properly his own
as his soul and his conscience ; neither liable to accident, nor exposed to
injury. It is the foretaste of heaven, and the earnest of eternity. In a
•word, it is such an one, as being begun in grace passes into glory, bless
edness, and immortality, and those pleasures that ' neither eye has seen,
nor ear heard, nor has it entered into the heart of man to conceive ' "—
South's Sermons, vol. i. sermon 1.

1 " The sect of ancient philosophers that boasted to have carried this
necessary science to the highest perfection were the Stoics, or scholars
of Zeno, whose wild enthusiastic virtue pretended to an exemption from
the sensibilities of unenlightened mortals, and who proclaimed them
selves exalted, by the doctrines of their sect, above the reach of those
miseries which embitter life to the rest of the world. They therefore
removed pain, poverty, loss of friends, exile, and violent death, from the
catalogue of evils; and passed, in their haughty style, a kind of irrever
sible decree, by which they forbade them to be counted any longer
among the objects of terror or anxiety, or to give any disturbance to the
tranquillity of a wise man.

" This edict was, I think, not universally observed ; for though one of
the more resolute, when he was tortured by a violent disease, cried out
that let pain harass him to its utmost power, it should never force him
to consider it as other than indifferent and neutral ; yet all had not stub
bornness to hold out against their senses ; for a weaker pupil of Zeno is
recorded to have confessed, in the anguish of the gout, that he now found
pain to be an evil.

" It may, however, be questioned, whether these philosophers can be
very properly numbered among the teachers of patience ; for if pain be
not an evil, there seems no instruction requisite how it may be borne ;
and, therefore, when they endeavor to arm their followers with arguments
against it, they may be thought to have given up their first position, j
But such inconsistencies are to be expected from the greatest under
standings, when they endeavor to grow eminent by singularity, and em
ploy their strength in establishing opinions opposite to nature. The
controversy about the reality of external evils is now at an end. That

270 CICERO'S PARADOXES. PAR. n.

Caius Marius ; he, in my opinion, was in prosperity one of
the happiest, and in adversity one of the greatest of men
than which man can have no happier lot. Thou knowest
not, foolish man, thou knowest not what power virtue
possesses ; thou only usurpest the name of virtue ; thou
art a stranger to her influence. No man who is wholly
consistent within himself, and who reposes all his interests
in himself alone, can be otherwise than completely happy.1
But the man whose every hope, and scheme, and design
depends upon fortune, such a man can have no certainty ; —
can possess nothing assured to him as destined to continue
for a single day. If you have any such man in your power,
you may terrify him by threats of death or exile ; but what
ever can happen to me in so ungrateful a country, will find
me not only not opposing, but even not refusing it. To
what purpose hav.e I toiled ? to what purpose have I acted ?
or on what have my cares and meditations been watchfully
employed, if I have produced and arrived at no such results,
as that neither the outrages of fortune nor the injuries of
enemies can shatter me. Do you threaten me with death 22
life has many miseries, and that those miseries are sometimes at least,
equal to all the powers of fortitude, is now universally confessed ; aod,
therefore, it is useful to consider not only how we may escape them, but
by what means those which either the accidents of affairs, or the infirm
ities of nature, must bring upon us, may be mitigated and lightened,
and how we may make those hours less wretched, which the condition
of our present existence will not allow to be very happy." — Dr. Johnson,
Eambler, No. 32.

1 " There is nothing that can raise a man to that generous absolute
ness of condition, as neither to cringe, to fawn, or to depend meanly ;
but that which gives him that happiness within himself for which men.
depend upon others. For surely I need salute no great man's threshold,
eneak to none of his friends or servants, to speak a good word for me to
my conscience. It is a noble and a sure defiance of a great malice,
backed with a great interest, which yet can have no advantage of a man,
but from his own expectations of something that is without himself.
But if I can make my duty my delight ; if I can feast, and please, and
caress my mind, with the pleasures of worthy speculations or virtuous
practices ; let greatness and malice vex and abridge me, if they can ; my
pleasures are as free as my will, no more to be controlled than my
choice, or the unlimited range of my thoughts and my desires." — South's
Sermons, Vol. i., Sermon I.

2 To be understood as addressed to Anthony. Yirgil has a similar
idea :—

"Breve et irreparabile tempus,
Omnibus est vita3, sed famam extendere factia
Hoc virtutia opus." — J&u. X. ver, 467-469.

PAB.ni. CICERO'S PARADOXES. 271

which is separating me from mankind ? Or with exile,
which is removing me from the wicked ? Death is dreadful
to the man whose all is extinguished with his life ; but not
to him whose glory never can die. Exile is terrible to
those who have, as it were, a circumscribed habitation ; but
not to those who look upon the whole globe but as one city.
Troubles and miseries oppress thee who thinkest thyself
happy and properous. Thy lusts torment thee, day and
night thou art upon the rack; for whom that which thou
possessest is not sufficient, and who art ever trembling lest even
that should not continue ; the consciousness of thy misdeeds
tortures thee ; the terrors of the laws and the dread of justice
appall thee ; look where thou wilt, thy crimes, like so many
furies, meet thy view and suffer thee not to breathe.1 There
fore, as no man can be happy if he is wicked, foolish, or indo
lent ; so no man can be wTetched, if he is virtuous, brave, and
wise. Glorious is the life of that man whose virtues and
practice are praiseworthy ; nor indeed ought that life to be
escaped from which is deserving of praise, though it might
well be if it were a wretched one. We are therefore to look
upon whatever is worthy of praise as at once happy, prosperous,
and desirable.

PARADOX III.

THAT ALL MISDEEDS ARE IN THEMSELVES EQUAL, AND GOOD
DEEDS THE SAME.

THE matter it may be said is a trifle, but the crime is
enormous ; for crimes are not to be measured by the issue of
events, but from the bad intentions of men.2 The fact in

1 "Though," says South, in the sermon from which we have several
times quoted, "company may reprieve a man from hia melancholy, yet it
can not secure him from his conscience, nor from sometimes being alone.
And what is all that a man enjoys from a week's, a month's, or a year's
converse, comparable to what he feelfs or one hour, when his conscience
shall take him aside and rate him by himself."

2 The ethical principle of Cicero, so far from having been improved
upon in modern times, shows in favorable contrast beside that of the
eminent Christian moralist, Paley. "The method," he says, "of coming
at the will of God, concerning any action, by the light of nature, is to
inquire into the tendency of that action to promote or diminish the gene
ral happiness.

"So then actions are to be estimated by their tendency. Whatever is

272 CICERO'S PARADOXES. PAE. m.

which the sin consists may be greater in one instance and
less in another, but guilt itself, in whatsoever light you be
hold it, is the same. A pilot oversets a ship laden with gold
or one laden with straw: in value there is some difference,
,but in the ignorance of the pilot there is none. Your illicit
Idesire has fallen upon an obscure female. The mortification
affects fewer persons than if it had broken out in the case of
some high-born and noble virgin; nevertheless it has been
guilty, if it be guilty to overstep the mark. When yon have
done this, a crime has been committed ; nor does it matter

expedient, is right. It is the utility of any moral rule alone which con
stitutes the obligation of it. But to all this there seems a plain objec
tion, viz., that many actions are useful, which no man in his senses will
allow to be right. There are occasions in which the hand of the assassin
would be very useful. The present possessor of some great estate em
ploys his influence and fortune, to annoy, corrupt, or oppress, all about
him. His estate would devolve, by his death, to a successor of an oppo
site character. It is useful, therefore, to dispatch such a one as soon as
possible out of the way ; as the neighborhood will exchange thereby a
pernicious tyrant for a wise and generous benefactor. It might be use
ful to rob a miser, and give the money to the poor ; as the money, no
doubt, would produce more happiness by being laid out in food and cloth
ing for half a dozen distressed families, than by continuing locked up in
a miser's chest. It may be useful to get possession of a place, a piece
of preferment, or of a seat in Parliament, by bribery or false swearing :
as by means of them we may serve the public more effectually than in
our private station. "What then shall we say ? Must we admit these
actions to be right, which would be to justify assassination, plunder, and
perjury ; or must we give up our principle, that the criterion of right is
utility? It is not necessary to do either. The true answer is this ; that
these actions, after all, are not useful, and for that reason, and that alone,
are not right. To see this point perfectly, it must be observed that the
bad consequences of actions are twofold, particular and general. The
particular bad consequences of an action, is the mischief which that single
action directly and immediately occasions. The general bad consequence
is, the violation of some necessary or useful general rule. Thus, the
particular bad consequence of the assassination above described, is the
fright and pain which the deceased underwent ; the loss he suffered of
life, which is as valuable to a bad man as to a good one, or more so ; the
prejudice and affliction, of which his death was the occasion, to his fam
ily, friends, and dependents. The general bad consequence is the viola
tion of this necessary general rule, that no man be put to death for his
crimes but by public authority. Although, therefore, such an action
have no particular bad consequence, or greater particular good conse
quences, yet it is not useful, by reason of the general consequence,
which is of more importance, and which is evil." — Moral and Political
Philosophy.

PAR. m. CICERO'S PARADOXES. 273

in aggravation of the fault how far you run afterward ;
certainly it is not lawful for any one to commit sin, and that
which is unlawful is limited by this sole condition, that it
is shown to be wrong. If this guilt can neither be made
greater nor less (because, if the thing was unlawful, therein
sin was committed), then the vicious acts which spring out
of that which is ever one and the same must necessarily be
equal. Now if virtues are equal among themselves, it
must necessarily follow that vices are so likewise ; and it is
most easy to be perceived that a man can not be better than
good, more temperate than temperate, braver than brave,
nor wiser than wise. Will any man call a person honest,
who, having a deposit of ten pounds of gold made to him
without any witness, so that he might take advantage of it
with impunity, shall restore it, and yet should not do the
same in the case of ten thousand pounds 1 J Can a man be
accounted temperate who checks one inordinate passion and
gives a loose to another ? Virtue is uniform, conformable to
reason, and of unvarying consistency ; nothing can be added
to it that can make it more than virtue ; nothing can be
taken from it, and the name of virtue be left. If good offices
are done with an upright intention, nothing can be more
upright than upright is ; and therfore it is impossible that any
thing should be better than what is good. It therefore follows
that all vices are equal ; for the obliquities of the mind are
properly termed vices. Now we may infer, that as all virtues
are equal, therefore all good actions, when they spring from
virtues, ought to be equal likewise ; and therefore it necessarily
follows, that evil actions springing from vices, should be also equal.
You borrow, says one, these views from philosophers. I
was afraid you would have told me that I borrowed it from
panders. But Socrates reasoned in the manner you do. —
By Hercules, you say well ; for it is recorded that he was a
learned and a wise person. Meanwhile as we are contending,
not with blows, but with words, I ask you whether good
men should inquire what was the opinion of porters and
laborers, or that of the wisest of mankind ? Especially too

1 The reader will probably be reminded by this passage of the words
of the Great Teacher: "He that is faithful in that which is least, is
faithful also in much. And he that is unjust ia the least, is unjust also
in much." — Luke, chap. xvi. 10.

12*

CICERO'S PARADOXES. PAR. nr.

as no truer sentiment than this can be found, nor one more
conducive to the interests of human life. For what influence
is there which can more deter men from the commission of
every kind of evil, than if they become sensible that there are
no degrees in sin 1 That the crime is the same, whether they
offer violence to private persons or to magistrates. That in
whatever families they have gratified their illicit desire, the
turpitude of their lust is the same.

But some one will say, what then ? does it make no differ
ence, whether a man murders his father or his slave ? If
you instance these acts abstractedly, it is difficult to decide
of what quality they are. If to deprive a parent of life is in
itself a most heinous crime, the Saguntines were then parri
cides, because they chose that their parents should die as
freemen rather than live as slaves. Thus a case may happen
in which there may be no guilt in depriving a parent of life,
and very often we can not without guilt put a slave to death.
The circumstances therefore attending this case,- and not the
nature of the thing, occasion the distinction : these circum
stances as they lean to either case, that case becomes the
more favorable ; but if they appertain alike to both, the
acts are then equal. There is this difference — that in killing
a slave, if wrong is done, it is a single sin that is committed ;
but many are involved in taking the life of a father. The
object of violence is the man who begat you, the man who
fed you, the man who brought you up, the man who gave
your position in your home, your family, and the state. This
offense is greater by reason of the number of sins (involved
in it), and is deserving of a proportionately greater punish
ment. But in life we are not to consider what should be the
punishment of each offense, but what is the rule of right to
each individual. "We are to consider every thing that is not
becoming as wicked, and every thing which is unlawful as
heinous. What ! even in the most trifling matters ? To be
sure ; for if we are unable to regulate the course of events,
yet we may place a bound to our passions. If a player
dances ever so little out of time, if a verse is pronounced by
him longer or shorter by a single syllable than it ought to
be, he is hooted and hissed off the stage. And shall you, who
ought to be better regulated than any gesture, and more regu
lar than any verse shall you be found faulty even in a syllable

PAR. IV. CICERO'S PARADOXES. 275

of conduct ? I overlook the trifling faults of a poet ; but shall
I approve my fellow-citizen's life while he is counting his mis
deeds with his fingers ? If some of these are trifling/ how can
it be regarded as more venial when whatever wrong is commit
ted, is committed to the violation of reason and order ? Now,
if reason and order are violated, nothing can be added by which
the offense can seem to be aggravated.

PARADOX IV.

THAT EVERY FOOL IS A MADMAN.

I WILL now convict you,2 by infallible considerations,
not as a fool, as I have often done, nor as a villain, as I
always do, but as insane and mad. Could the mind of
the wise man, fortified as with walls by depth of counsel,
by patient endurance of human ills, by contempt of for
tune; in short, by all the virtues — a mind that could not
be expelled out of this community — shall such a mind be
overpowered and taken by storm ? For what do we call
a community 1 Surely, not every assembly of thieves and
ruffians? Is it then the entire rabble of outlaws and
robbers assembled in one plaee ? No ; you will doubtless
reply. Then this was no community when its laws had no
force ; when its courts of justice were prostrated ; when the
custom of the country had fallen into contempt ; when, the
magistrates having been driven away by the sword, there was
not even the name of a senate in the state. Could that gang
of ruffians, that assembly of villains which you head in the
forum, could those remains of Catiline's frantic conspiracy,
diverted to your mad and guilty schemes, be termed a com
munity ? I could not therefore be expelled from a commu
nity, because no such then existed. I was summoned back
to a community when there was a consul in the state, which

1 The reference here is to beating time to the quantity of syllables in
a verse, and the term breviora, which is here rendered by the word
"trifling," indicates the short syllables in the metre.

2 This paradox takes for its illustration the life of Publius Clodius, a
Roman soldier of noble birth, but infamous for the corruption of hia
morals. He was ultimately slain by the retinue of Milo, in a renconter
which took place between the two as Milo was journeying toward Lanu-
vium, hia native place, and Clodius was on hia way to Rome.

276 CICEEO'S PAEADOXES. PAR. IT.

at the former time there was not ; when there was a senate,
which then had ceased to exist ; when the voice of the people
was free ; and when laws and equity, those bonds of a commu
nity, had been restored.

But see how much I despised the shafts of your villainy.
That you aimed your villainous wrongs at me, I was always
aware; but that they reached me I never thought. It is
true, you might 'think that somewhat belonging to me was
tumbling down or consuming, when you were demolishing my
walls, and applying your detestable torches to the roofs of my
houses. But neither I nor any man can call that our own
which can be taken away, plundered, or lost. Could you have
robbed me of my godlike constancy of mind, of my applica
tion, of my vigilance, and of those measures through which,
to your confusion, the republic now exists ; could you have
abolished the eternal memory of this lasting service ; far more,
had you robbed me of that soul from which these designs
emanated ; then, indeed, I should have confessed that I had
received an injury. But as you neither did nor could do
this, your persecution rendered my return glorious, but not
my departure miserable. I, therefore, was always a citizen
of Rome, but especially at the time when the senate charged
foreign nations with my preservation as the best of her citi
zens. As to you, you are at this time no citizen, unless the
same person can be at once a citizen and an enemy. Can you
distinguish a citizen from an enemy by the accidents of
nature and place, and not by its affections and actions ?
You have perpetrated a massacre in the forum, and occupied
the temples with bands of armed ruffians; you have set on
fire the temples of the gods and the houses of private citizens.
If you are a citizen, in what sense was Spartacus an enemy ?
Can you be a citizen, through whom, for a time, the state had
no existence ? And do you apply to me your own designa
tion, when all mankind thought that on my departure Rome
herself was gone into exile ? Thou most frantic of all mad
men, wilt thou never look around thee ? Wilt thou never con
sider what thou sayest, or what thou doest ? Dost thou not
know that exile is the penalty of guilt : but that the journey
I set out upon was undertaken by me in consequence of the
most illustrious exploits performed by me ? All the criminals,
all the profligates, of whom you avow yourself the leader, and

PAB.T. CICERO'S PABADOXES. 277

on whom our laws pronounce the sentence of banishment, are
exiles, even though they have not changed their locality. At
the time when all our laws doom thee to banishment, wilt
thou not be an exile ? Is not the man an enemy who carries
about him offensive weapons ? A cut-throat belonging to you
was taken near the senate-house. Who has murdered a man ?
You have murdered many. Who is an incendiary ? You ;
for with your own hand you set fire to the temple of the
nymphs. Who violated the temples ? You pitched your
camp in the forum. But what do I talk of well-known laws,
all which doom you to exile ; for your most intimate friend
carried through a bill with reference to you, by which you
were condemned to be banished, if it was found that you had
presented yourself at the mysteries of the goddess Bona ; and
you are even accustomed to boast that you did so.1 As there
fore you have by so many laws been doomed to banishment,
how is it that you do not shrink from the designation of exile ?
You say you are still at Rome, and that you were present at
the mysteries too : but a man will not be free of the place
where he may be, if he can not be there with the sanction of
the laws.

PARADOX V.

THAT THE WISE MAN ALONE IS FREE, AND THAT EVERY FOOL
IS A SLAVE.

HERE let a general2 be celebrated, or let him be honored
with that title, or let him be thought worthy of it. But
how or over what free man will he exercise control who
can not command his own passions ?3 Let him in the first

1 " Among other offenses Clodius is said to have violated the myste
ries of the Bona Dea by penetrating into the house of Cassar during their
celebration, disguised in female attire. lie was led to the commission
of this act by a guilty attachment to Pompeia, Caesar's wife. Being tried
for this impiety, he managed to escape by bribing the judges." — Anthon's
Cicero: Historical Index.

2 Supposed to refer to Marcus Antonius.

3 On this principle ^actantius denies that Hercules was a man of real
courage, because he was unable to vanquish his own passions ; for, says
he, that man who overcomes a lion is not to be considered more brave
than he who quells his own anger, that raging monster that resides
within himself; nor the man who lays low the most rapacious winged
creatures than he who restrains his own craving desires ; nor the man

278 CICERO'S PARADOXES. PAR. v.

place bridle his lusts, let him despise pleasures, let him
subdue anger, let him get the better of avarice, let him
expunge the other stains on his character, and then when
he himself is no longer in subjection to disgrace and de
gradation, the most savage tyrants, let him then, I say,
begin to command others.1 But while he is subservient
to these, not <5nly is he not to be regarded as a general,
but he is by no means to be considered as even a free
man. This is -nobly laid down by the most learned men,
whose authority I should not make use of were I now
addressing myself to an assembly of rustics. But as I
speak to the wisest men, to whom these things are not new,
why should I falsely pretend that all the application I have

who conquers the warlike amazon, than he who subjugates his lust — that
victorious foe of modesty and reputation ; nor the man who casts out
the filth from a stable, than he who has expelled the vices from his heart,
which are the more destructive, inasmuch as evils that are internal and
part of ourselves, are worse than those which may be shunned and
avoided.

1 " Res* not in an ovation, but a triumph over thy passions. Let anger
walk hanging down the head, let malice go manacled, and envy fettered
after thee. Behold within thee the long train of thy trophies, not with
out thee. Make the quarreling Lapithytes sleep, and Centaurs within
lie quiet. Chain up the unruly legion of thy breast. Lead thine own
captivity captive, and be Cassar within thyself." — Sir Thomas Browne's
Christian Morals, Part I. chap. 2.

"Be not," says the same author, "a Horculeus fureus abroad, and a
poltroon within thyself. To chase our enemies out of the field, and be
led captive by our vices ; to beat down our foes, and fall down to our
concupiscences ; are solecisms in moral . schools, and no laurel attends
thereon. To well manage our affections, and wild horses of Plato, are
the highest circenses ; and the noblest digladiation is in the theater of
ourselves ; for therein our inward antagonists, not only like common
gladiators, with ordinary weapons and downright blows make at us, but
also like retiary and laqueary combatants with nets, frauds, and entang
lements, fall upon us. "Weapons for such combats are not to be forged
at Lipara ; Vulcan's art doth nothing in this internal militia ; wherein
not the armor of Achilles, but the armature of St. Paul, gives the glori
ous day, and triumphs, not leading up into capitols, but up into the
highest heavens. And, therefore, while so many think it the only valor
to command and master others, study thou the dominion of thyself, and
quiet thine own commotions. Let right reason be thy Lycurgus, and
lift up thy hand unto the law of it ; move by thy intelligences of the
superior faculties, not by the rapt of passion, nor merely by that of tem
per and constitution. They who are merely carried on by the wheel of
such inclinations, without the hand and guidance of sovereign reason,
are but the automatous part of mankind, rather lived than living, or at
least underliving themselves." — Ibid. chap. 24.

PAB.Y. CICERO'S PARADOXES. 279

bestowed upon this study has been lost ? It has been said,
then, by the most learned men, that none but the wise man
is free. For what is liberty? The power of living as you
please. Who, then, is he who lives as he pleases, but the
man surely who follows righteousness, who rejoices in ful
filling his duty, and whose path of life has been well
considered and preconcerted ; the man who obeys the
laws of his country, not out of dread, but pays them re
spect and reverence, because he thinks that course the most
salutary ; who neither does nor thinks any thing otherwise
than cheerfully and freely ; the man, all whose designs and
all the actions he performs arise from and are terminated in
his proper self;1 the man who is swayed by nothing so
much as by his own inclination and judgment ; the man
who is master of fortune herself, whose influence is said to
be sovereign, agreeably to what the sage poet says, "the
fortune of every man is molded by his character.2 To the

1 That is, his understanding, as distinct from his passions.

2 "The regulation of every man's plan," says John Poster, in. his cele
brated Essay on Decision of Character, " must greatly depend upon the
course of events, which come in an order not to be foreseen or prevented.
But in accommodating the plans of conduct to the train of events, the
difference between two men may be no less than that, in the one instance,
the man is subservient to the events, and in the other the events are
made subservient to the man. Some men seem to have been taken
along by a succession of events, and as it were handed forward in help
less passiveness from one to another ; having no determined principle in
their own characters by which they could constrain those events to serve
a design formed antecedently to them, or apparently in defiance of them.
The events seizeji them as a neutral material, not they the events.
Others, advancing through life with an internal, invincible determination,
have seemed to make the train of circumstances, whatever they were,
conduce as much to their chief design as if they had, by some directing
interposition, been brought about on purpose. It is wonderful how even
the casualties of life seem to bow to a spirit that will not bow to them,
and yield to subserve a design which they may in their first apparent
tendency threaten to frustrate."

Shakespeare develops a similar idea in the following passage :
" Men at some times are masters of their fate ;
The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars,
But in ourselves, that we are underlings." — Julius Cassar.
And a far earlier, and scarcely less skillful anatomist of human nature
tlius apostrophizes the imaginary goddess :

"Nullum numen habes, si sit prudentia; nos te,
Nos facimus, Fortuna, deam, coeloque locamus."

Juvenal, Sat. VI 365, 3G6.

X

280 CICERO'S PARADOXES. PAR. T.

wise man alone it happens, that he does nothing against his
will, nothing with pain, nothing by coercion. It would, it is
true, require a large discourse to prove that this is so,, but it is
a briefly stated and admitted principle, that no man but he who
is thus constituted can be free. All wicked men therefore are
slaves, and this is not so surprising and incredible in fact as it is
in words. For they are not slaves in the sense those bondmen
are who are the properties of their masters by purchase, or by
any law of the state ; but if obedience to a disordered, abject
mind, destitute of self-control be slavery (and such it is1), who
can deny that all the dishonest, all the covetous, in short, all
the wicked, are slaves ?

Can I call the men free whom a woman governs, to whom
she2 gives laws, lays down directions, orders and forbids
what to her seems fit ; while he can deny and dare refuse
nothing that she commands ? 3 Does she ask ? He must give.

Lord Bacon also sanctions the same proposition with his unvarying-
wisdom. " It can not be denied but outward accidents conduce much
to fortune; favor, opportunity, death of others, occasion fitting virtue,
but chiefly, the mold of a man's fortune is in his own hands : ' Faber
quisque fortunae suse,' saith the poet, and the most frequent of external
causes is, that the folly of one man is the fortune of another ; for no
man prospers so suddenly as by others' errors. ' Serpens nisi serpentem
comederit non fit draco.' Overt and apparent virtues bring forth praise ;
but there be secret and hidden virtues that bring forth fortune ; certain
deliveries of a man's self, which have no name. The Spanish name,
* disemboltura,' partly expresseth these when there be not stones nor
restiveness in a man's nature, but that the wheels of his mind keep way
with the wheels of his fortune ; for so Livy (after he had described Cato
Major in these words, ' In illo viro, tantum robur corporis et animi fuit,
ut quocunque loco natus esset, fortunam sibi facturus videretur),' falleth
upon that that he had, 'versatile ingenium;' therefore, if a man look
sharply and attentively, he shall see fortune ; for though she be blind,
yet she is not invisible. The way of fortune is like the milky way in
the sky ; which is a meeting, or a knot, of a number of small stars, not
seen asunder, but giving light together ; so are there a number of little
and scarce discerned virtues, or rather faculties and customs, that make
men fortunate."

1 The Apostle Paul lays down the same principle: "Know ye not
that to whom ye yield yourselves servants to obey, his servants ye are to
whom ye obey, whether of sin unto death, or of obedience unto right
eousness?" — Epist. Rom. chap. vi. ver. 16.

2 The reference is to Antony's amorous subserviency to Cleopatra.

3 " If Adam in the state of perfection, and Solomon the son of David,
God's chosen servant, and himself a man endued with the greatest wis
dom, did both of them disobey their Creator by the persuasion, and for

PAB.V. CICERO'S PARADOXES. 281

Does she call ? He must come. Does she order him off? He
must vanish. Does she threaten ? He must tremble. For my
part, I call such a fellow, though he may have been born in the
noblest family, not only a slave, but a most abject slave.
And as in a large household, some slaves look upon themselves
as more genteel than others, such as porters or gardeners, yet
still they are slaves ; in like manner, they who are inordinately
fond of statues, of pictures, of embossed plate, of works in
Corinthian brass, or magnificent palaces, are equally fools with
the others. " Nay, but (say they) we are the most eminent
men of the state." Nay ! you are not superior to your fellow-
slaves. But as in a household, they who handle the fur
niture, brush it, anoint their masters, who sweep, and water,
do not occupy the highest rank of servitude ; in like man
ner they who have abandoned themselves to their passions
for these things, occupy nearly the lowest grade of slavery
itself.

But you say, I have had the direction of important wars,
I have presided over great empires and provinces. Then

the love they bare to a woman, it is not so wonderful as lamentable, that
other men in succeeding ages have been allured to so many inconvenient
and wicked practices by the persuasion of their wives or other beloved
darlings, who cover over and shadow many malicious purposes with a
counterfeit passion of dissimulating sorrow and unquietness." — Sir "Walter
Raleigh.

"It is a most miserable slavery to submit to what you disapprove, and
give up a truth, for no other reason but that you had not the fortitude to
support you in asserting it. A man has enough to do to conquer his
own unreasonable wishes and desires ; but he does that in vain, if he has
those of another to gratify. But in all concessions of this kind, a man.
should consider whether the present he makes flows from his own love,
or the importunity of his beloved. If from the latter, he is her slave ;
if from the former, her friend. "We laugh it off, and do not weigh this
subjection to women with that seriousness which so important a circum
stance deserves. "Why was courage given to a man, if his wife's fears
are to frustrate it ? When this is once indulged, you are no longer her
guardian and protector, as you were designed by nature ; but in compli
ance to her weakness, you have disabled yourself from avoiding the mis
fortunes into which they will lead you both, and you are to see the hour
in which you are to be reproached by herself. It is indeed the most
difficult mastery over ourselves to resist the grief of her who charms us,
but the old argument, that ' you do not love me if you deny me this,'
which first was used to obtain a trifle, by habitual success will oblige
the unhappy man who gives way to it, to resign the cause even of hia
country and hia honor." — Addison, Spectator, No. 510.

282 CICERO'S PARADOXES. PAE. v.

carry about you a soul worthy of praise. A painting of
Echion, or some statue of Polycletus, holds you bereft of
your senses : I shall not mention from whom you took it, or
by what means you possess it : but when I see you staring,
gaping, and uttering cries, I look upon you to be the slave of
all these follies. You ask me, " Are not these, then, elegant
amusements ?" They are : for I too have a cultivated eye ;
but I beseech you, let these elegances be so regarded as
the playthings of boys, and not as the shackles of men.
What think you then? If Lucius Mummius, after he had
expressed his contempt for all Corinth, had seen one of these
men examining most eagerly a Corinthian vase, whether
would he have looked upon him as an excellent citizen, or
a busy appraiser ? If Manius Curius, or some of those
Romans who in their villas and their houses had nothing
that was costly, nothing besides themselves that was orna
mental, should come to life again, and see one who had re
ceived the highest honors from the people, taking out of his
tank his mullets or his carp, then handling them, and boasting
of the abundance of his lampreys, would not the old Eoman
think that such a man was so very a slave, that he was not
even fit for a very high employment in a household ? Is the
slavery of those men doubtful, who from their greediness for
wealth spurn no condition of the hardest servitude ? To what
meanness of slavery will not the hope of succeeding to an es
tate make a man stoop 2 * What gesture of the childless rich
old fellow does he not observe ? He frames his words to his
inclination ; he does whatever is commanded him ; he courts
him, he sits by him, he makes him presents. What of these is
the part of a ifree man ? What, indeed, is not the mark of an
abject slave.

Well ! how hard a mistress is that passion which seems
to be more characteristic of liberty, I mean that for public
preferment, for empire, for provinces ; how imperious ! how
irresistible ! It forced the men who thought themselves the

1 " Riches gotten by service, though it be of the best rise, yet when
they are gotten by flattery, feeding humors, and other servile conditions,
they may be placed among the worst. As for fishing for testaments and
executorships (as Tacitus saith of Seneca, ' Testamenta et orbos tam-
quam indagine capi), it is yet worse, by how much men submit them
selves to meaner persons than in service." — Lord Bacon, Essay 34.

PAR. vi. CICERO'S PARADOXES. 283

greatest men in Rome to be slaves to Cethegus, a person
not the most respectable, to send him presents, to wait upon
him at nights at his house, to turn suitors, nay, supplicants
to him. If this is to be regarded as freedom, what is
slavery ? But what shall I say when the sway of the
passions is over, and when fear, another tyrant, springs out
of the consciousness of their misdeeds ? What a hard, what
a wretched servitude is that, when they must be slaves to
chattering boys; when all who seem to know any thing
against them are feared as their masters. As to their judge,
how powerful is his sway over them, with what terrors does
he afflict the guilty. And is not all fear a slavery ? What
then is the meaning of that more eloquent than wise speech
delivered by the accomplished orator Crassus? "Snatch us
from slavery." What slavery could happen to so illustrious
and noble a man ? Every terror of a weak, a mean, and a das
tardly soul is slavery. He goes on — " Suffer us not to be
the slaves of any (you perhaps imagine that he is now about
to assert his liberty. Not at all, for what does he add ?) — but
of you all, to whom we are able and bound to be subservient."
He desires not to be free, but to change his master. Now
we whose souls are lofty, exalted, and intrenched in virtue,
neither can, nor ought to be slaves. Say that you can be a
slave, since indeed you can ; but say not that you are bound
to be one, for no man is bound to any service, unless it is
disgraceful not to render it. But enough of this. Now let
this man consider if he can be a general, when reason and
truth must convince him that he is not so much as a
freeman.

PARADOX VI.

THAT THE WISE MAN ALONE IS RICH.

WHAT means this unbecoming ostentation in making
mention of your money ? 1 You are the only rich man ! Im
mortal gods ! ought I not to rejoice that I have heard and
learned something ? You the only rich man ! What if you
are not rich at all ? What if you even are a beggar ? For
whom are we to understand to be a rich man? To what

1 This paradox is addressed to Marcus Crassus.

284 CICERO'S PARADOXES. PAE. vr.

kind of a man do we apply the term ? To the man as I sup
pose, whose possessions are such that he may be well con
tented to live liberally, who has no desire, no hankering
after, no wish for more. It is your own mind, and not the
talk of others, nor your possessions, that must pronounce
you to be rich ; for it ought to think that nothing is want
ing to it, and care for nothing beyond. Is it satiated, or
even contented with your money ? I admit that you are
rich ; but if for the greed of money you think no source of
profit disgraceful (though your order can not make any
honest profits), if you every day are cheating, deceiving,
craving, jobbing, poaching, and pilfering; if you rob the
allies and plunder the treasury ; if you are forever longing
for the bequests of friends, or not even waiting for them,
but forging them yourself, are such practices the indications
of a rich or a needy man? It is the mind, and not the
coffers of a man, that is to be accounted rich. For though
the latter be full, when I see yourself empty, I shall not
think you rich ; because men measure the amount of riches
by that which is sufficient for each individual. Has a man
a daughter ? then he has need of money. But he has two,
then he ought to have a greater fortune ; he has more, then
he ought to have more fortune still ; and if, as we are told
of Danaus, he has fifty daughters, so many fortunes require
a great estate. For, as I said before, the degree of wealth
is dependent on how much each individual has need of. He
therefore who has not a great many daughters, but innu
merable passions, which are enough to consume a very great
estate in a very short time, how can I call such a man rich,
when he himself is conscious that he is poor? Many have
heard you say, that no man is rich who can not with his in
come maintain an army ; a thing which the people of Rome
some time ago, with their so great revenues, could scarcely
do. Therefore, according to your maxim, you never can be
rich, until so much is brought in to you from your estates,
that out of it you can maintain six legions, and large auxil
iaries of horse and foot.1 You therefore, in fact, confess

1 " It will be found," says Dr. Johnson, "on a nearer view, that those
who extol the happiness of poverty, do not mean the same state with
those who deplore its miseries. Poets have their imaginations filled with
ideas of magnificence ; and, being accustomed to contemplate the down-

PAR. VL CICERO'S PARADOXES. 285

yourself not to be rich, who are so far short of fulfilling what
you desire ; you, therefore, have never concealed your poverty,
your neediness, and your beggary.

For as we see that they who make an honest livelihood by
commerce, by industry, by farming the public revenue, have
occasion for their earnings; so, whoever sees at your house
the crowds of accusers and judges together; whoever sees
rich and guilty criminals plotting the corruption of trials
with you as their adviser, and your bargainings for pay for
the distribution of patronage, your pecuniary interventions
in the contests of candidates, your dispatching your freed-
men to fleece and plunder the provinces; whoever calls to
mind your dispossessing your neighbors, your depopulating
the country by your oppressions, your confederacies with
slaves, with freedmen, and with clients; the vacating of es
tates ; the proscriptions of the wealthy ; the corporations mas
sacred, and the harvest of the times of Sylla; the wills you
have forged, and the many men you have made away with ;
in short, that all things were venal with you in your levies,
your decrees, your own votes, and the votes of others; the
forum, your house, your speaking, and your silence; who
must not think that such a man confesses he has occasion for
all he has acquired? But who can truly designate him as
a rich man who needs all his earnings 1 For the advantage
of riches consists in plenty, and this plenty declares the
overflow and abundance of the m6ans of life, which, as you
can never attain, you can never be rich. I shall say nothing
of myself, because as you (and that with reason) despise my
fortune — for it is in the opinion of the generality middli*--^
in yours next to nothing, and in mine sufficient — T
speak to the subject. Now if facts are to be we'
estimated by us, whether are we more to esteem- 4h«
of Pyrrhus which he sent to Fabricius, or th
Fabricius for refusing that money? — the :
nites, or the answer of Manius Curiur
Lucius Paulus, or the generosity

fall of empires, or to contrive forma of lameL sx-ha in dis
tress, rank all the classes of mankind in a stai ' ert v v. uo make no
approaches to the dignity of crowns. To be pc •• . epic language
is only not to command the wealth of nations, a. j have fleets and
armies to pay." — "Rambler, No. 202.

286 CICERO'S PARADOXES. PAR. vi.

to his brother Quintus his own part of that inheritance ?
Surely the latter evidences of consummate virtue are more
to be esteemed than the former, which are the evidences of
wealth. If, therefore, we are to rate every man rich only in
proportion to the valuable things he possesses, who can doubt
that riches consist in virtue, since no* possession, no amount of
gold and silver, is more to be valued than virtue ?

Immortal gods ! Men are not aware how great a revenue
is parsimony ; for I now proceed to speak of extravagant
men, I take my leave of the money-hunter. The revenue
one man receives from his estate is six hundred sestertia;
I receive one hundred from mine. To that man who has
gilded roofs and marble pavements in his villas, and who
unboundedly covets statues, pictures, vestments, and fur
niture, his income is insufficient, not only for his expenditure,
but even for the payment of his interest; while there will
be some surplus even from my slender income, through
cutting off the expenses of voluptuousness. Which, then, is
the richer, he who has a deficit, or he who has a surplus ?
— he who is in need, or he who abounds ? — the man whose
estate, the greater it is, requires the more to sustain it, or
whose estate maintains itself by its own resources ?*

But why do I talk of myself, who through the contagion

1 " Riches are of no value in themselves, their use is discovered only
in that which they procure. They are not coveted unless by narrow un
derstandings, which confound the means with the end, but for the sake
of power, influence, and esteem ; or by some of less elevated and re
fined sentiments as necessary to sensual enjoyment.

" The pleasures of luxury many have, without uncommon virtue, been
able to despise, even when affluence and idleness have concurred to
tempt them ; and therefore he who feels nothing from indigence, but the
want of gratifications which he could not in any other condition make
consistent with innocence, has given no proof of eminent patience.
Esteem and influence every man desires, but they are equally pleasing
and equally valuable, by whatever means they are obtained ; and who
ever has found the art of securing them without the help of money
ought in reality to be accounted rich, since he has all that riches can
purchase to a wise man. Cincinnatus, though he lived upon a few acres,
cultivated by his own hand, was sufficiently removed from all the evils
generally comprehended under the name of poverty, when his reputation
was such that the voice of his country called him from his farm to take
absolute command into his hand ; nor was Diogenes much mortified by
his residence in a tub, where he was honored with the visit of Alexander
the Great."— The Rambler, No. 202.

PAR vi. CICERO'S PARADOXES. 28*7

of fashion and of the times, am perhaps a little infected with
the fault of the age ? In the memory of our fathers, Manius
Manilius (not to mention continually the Curii and the Lus-
cinii) at length became poor ; for he had only a little house
at Carani and a farm near Labicum. Now are we, because
we have greater possessions, richer men ? I wish we were.
But the amount of wealth is not defined by the valuation of
the census, but by habit and mode of life ; not to be greedy
is wealth ; not to be extravagant is revenue. Above all
things, to be content with what we possess is the greatest
and most secure of riches. If therefore they who are the
most skillful valuers of property highly estimate fields and
certain sites, because such estates are the least liable to
injury, how much more valuable is virtue, which never
can be wrested, never can be filched from us, which can not
be lost by fire or by shipwreck, and which is not alienated
by the convulsions of tempest or of time, with which those
who are endowed alone are rich, for they alone possess re
sources which are profitable and eternal ; and they are the
only men who, being contented with what they possess, think
it sufficient, which is the criterion of riches : they hanker
after nothing, they are in need of nothing, they feel the want
of nothing, and they require nothing. • As to the unsatiable
and avaricious part of mankind, as they have possessions
liable to uncertainty, and at the mercy of chance, they who
are forever thirsting after more, and of whom there never was
a man for whom what he had sufficed ; they are so far from
being wealthy and rich, that they are to be regarded as neces
sitous and beggared.

THE

VISION OF SCIPIO.

SCIPIO SPEAKS.

WHEN I had arrived in Africa as military tribune of the
fourth legion, as you know, under the consul, Lucius Man-
lius, nothing was more delightful to me than having an in
terview with Massinissa, a prince who, for good reasons, was
most friendly to our family. When I arrived, the old man
shed tears as he embraced me. Soon after he raised his
eyes up to heaven and said, I thank thee, most glorious sun,
and ye the other inhaBitants of heaven, that before I depart
from this life, I see in my kingdom and under this roof,
Publius Cornelius Scipio, by whose very name I am re
freshed, for never does the memory of that greatest, that most
invincible of men, vanish from my mind. After this I informed
myself from him about his kingdom, and he from me about
our government ; and that day was consumed in much con
versation on both sides.

Afterward, having been entertained with royal magnifi
cence, we prolonged our conversation to a late hour of the
night ; while the old man talked of nothing but of Africanus,
and remembered not only all his actions, but all his sayings.
Then, when we departed to bed, owing to my journey and
my sitting up to a late hour, a sleep sounder than ordinary
came over me. In this (I suppose from the subject on
which we had been talking, for it commonly happens that
our thoughts and conversations beget something analogous
in our sleep, just as Ennius writes about Homer, of whom
assuredly, he was accustomed most frequently to think and

THE VISION OF SCIPIO. 289

talk when awake),1 Africanus presented himself to me in that
form which was more known from his statue than from his
own person.

No sooner did I know him than I shuddered. "Draw
near (said he), with confidence, lay aside your dread, and
commit what I say to your memory. You see that city,
which by me was forced to submit to the people of Rome,
but is now renewing its former wars, and can not remain at
peace (he spoke these words pointing to Carthage from an
eminence that was full of stars, bright and glorious), which
you are now come, before you are a complete soldier,2 to at
tack. Within two years you shall be consul, and shall over
throw it ; and you shall acquire for yourself that surname
that you now wear, as bequeathed by me.3 After you have

1 "I believe that dreams are uniformly the resuscitation or re-embodi
ment of thoughts which have formerly, in some shape or other, occupied
the mind. They are old ideas revived, either in an entire state, or hete-
rogeneously mingled together. I doubt if it be possible for a person to
have in a dream any idea whose elements did not in some form strike
him at a previous period. If these break loose from their connecting
chain, and become jumbled together incoherently, as is often the case,
they give rise to absurd combinations ; but the elements still subsist,
and only manifest themselves in a new and unconnected shape. Dreams
generally arise without any assignable cause, but sometimes we can very
readily discover their origin. "Whatever has much interested us during;
the day is apt to resolve itself into a dream, and this will generally be
pleasurable or the reverse, according to the nature of the exciting cause.
If, for instance, our reading or conversation be of horrible subjects, such
as specters, murders, or conflagrations, they will appear before us mag
nified and heightened in our dreams. Or if we have been previously
sailing upon a rough sea, we are apt to suppose ourselves undergoing
the perils of shipwreck. Pleasurable sensations during the day are also
apt to assume a still more pleasurable aspect in dreams. In like manner,
if we have a longing for anything, we are apt to suppose that we possess
it. Even objects altogether unattainable are placed within our reach :
we achieve impossibilities, and triumph with ease over the invincible
laws of nature." — Macnish's Philosophy of Sleep, chap. 3.

2 Soldier. The original is nunc venis pane Miles, because Scipio was
then only a young man and one of the military tribunes, which post was
looked upon as only a kind of cadetship which they went through before
they could be generals.

3 " Dreams have been looked upon by some as the occasional means
of giving us an insight into futurity. This opinion is so singularly un-
philosophical that I would not have noticed it, were it not advocated
even by persons of good sense and education. In ancient times it was
so common as to obtain universal belief; and the greatest men placed as

13

290 THE VISION OF SCIPIO.

destroyed Carthage, performed a triumph, and been censor ;
after, in the capacity of legate, you have visited Egypt, Syria,
Asia, and Greece, you shall, in your absence, be chosen a
second time consul ; then you shall finish a most dreadful
war, and utterly destroy Numantia. But when you shall be
borne into the capitol in your triumphal chariot, you shall find
the government thrown into confusion by the machinations
of my grandson ;* and here, my Africanus, you must display
to your country the luster of your spirit, genius, and wisdom.
" But at this period I perceive that the path of your destiny
is a doubtful one ; for when your life has passed through
seven times eight2 oblique journeys and returns of the sun ;

implicit faith in it as in any fact of which their own senses afforded them
cognizance. That it is wholly erroneous, however, can not be doubted ;
and any person who examines the nature of the human mind and the
manner in which it operates in dreams, must be convinced that under no
circumstances, except those of a miracle, in which the ordinary laws of
nature are triumphed over, can such an event ever take place. The sacred
writings testify that miracles were common in former times, but I believe
no man of sane mind will contend that they ever occur in the present
state of the world. In judging of things as now constituted, we must
discard supernatural influence altogether, and estimate events according
to the general laws which the great Euler of nature has appointed for
the guidance of the universe. If in the present day it were possible to
conceive a suspension of these laws, it must, as in former ages, be in
reference to some great event and to serve some mighty purpose con
nected with the general interests of the human race ; but if faith is to bo
placed in modern miracles, we must suppose that God suspended the
above laws for the most trivial and useless of purposes. At the same
time there can be no doubt that many circumstances occurring in our
dreams have been actually verified ; but this must be regarded as alto
gether the effect of chance ; and for one dream which turns out to bo
true, at least a thousand are false. In fact, it is only when they are of
the former description, that we take any notice of them, the latter are
looked upon as mere idle vagaries, and speedily forgotten." — Macnish'a
Philosophy of Sleep, chap. 4.

Speaking of uninspired prophecy, Lord Bacon says : " There are num
bers of the like kind ; especially if you include dreams and predictions
of astrology, but I have set down these few only of certain credit for ex
ample. My judgment is, that they ought all to be despised, and ought
to serve but for winter talk by the fireside."

1 "Grandson. Meaning Tiberius Gracchus or his brother ; their mother
was daughter to the elder Africanus. I can not help being of opinion
that Virgil took from this vision his first hint of the discourse which he
introduces in the sixth book of the ^Eneid, between ^Eneas and hia
father." — Guthrie.

2 " Seven times eight times. The critics and commentators have been

THE VISION OF SCIPIO. 291

and when these two numbers (each of which is regarded as
a complete one — one on one account and the other on
another) shall, in their natural circuit, have brought you to
the crisis of your fate, then will the whole state turn itself
toward thee and thy glory; the senate, all virtuous men,
our allies, and the Latins, shall look up to you. Upon your
single person the preservation of your country will depend ;
and, in short, it is your part, as dictator, to settle the gov
ernment, if you can but escape the impious hands of your
kinsmen."1 — Here, when Laelius uttered an exclamation,
and the rest groaned with great excitement, Scipio said, with
a gentle smile, " I beg that you will not waken me out of my
dream, give a little time and listen to the sequel.

" But that you may be more earnest in the defense of
your country, know from me, that a certain place in heaven
is assigned to all who have preserved, or assisted, or im
proved their country, where they are to enjoy an endless
duration of happiness.2 For there is nothing which takes

very profuse of their learning in explaining this passage. But since the
doctrine of numbers, and the motions of the heavenly bodies have been
so well understood, it is a learning of a very useless nature. The sum
of what they tell us is, that the numbers seven and eight are complete
numbers, and when multiplied into one another produce fifty-six, which
is one of the climacterics of human life. The reasons they give for all
this are so many aod so fanciful, that though they are strengthened with
the greatest names of antiquity, it can be of very little use for a modern
reader to know them." — G-uthrie.

1 "There scarce can be a doubt that this passage was in Yirgil's eye,
when he makes Anchises break out in that beautiful exclamation in the
sixth book of the ^Eneid concerning Marcellus.

' Heu miserande puer si qua fata aspera rumpas,
Tu Marcellus eris.' " — G-uthrie.

2 It seems to have strongly entered into the expectations of those
eminent sages of antiquity who embraced the doctrine of the soul's im
mortality, that the felicity of the next life will partly arise, not only from
a renewal of those virtuous connections which have been formed in the
present, but from conversing at large with that whole glorious assembly
whom the poet hath so justly brought together, in his description of the
mansions of the blessed : The —

"Manus ob patriam pugnando vulnera passi,
Quique sacerdotes casti, dum vita manebat,
Quique pii vates, et Phoebo digna locuti,
Inventas aut qui vitam excoluere per artes
Quique sui memores alios fecere merendo."

Yirg. J3n. vi. 664.

292 THE VISION OF SCIPIO.

place on earth more acceptable to that Supreme Deity who
governs all this world, than those councils and assemblies of
men bound together by law, which are termed states ; the
governors and preservers of these go from hence,1 and hither
do they return." Here, frightened as I was, not so much
from the dread of death as of the treachery of my friends, I
nevertheless asked him whether my father Paulus, and others,
whom we thought to be dead, were yet alive ? " To be sure
they are alive (replied Africanus), for they have escaped
from the fetters of the body as from a prison ; that which is
called your life is really death. But behold your father
Paulus approaching you." — No sooner did I see him than I
pouivd for.h a flood of tears ; hut he, embracing and kissing
me, forbade me to weep. And when, having suppressed my
tears, I began first to be able to speak, " why (said I), thou
most sacred and excellent father, since this is life, as I hear
Africanus affirm, why do I terry on earth, and not hasten to
come to you ?"

"Patriots who perished for tneir country's right, -
Or nobly triumphed in the field of light,
There holy priests and sacred poets stood,
"Who sung with all the raptures of a god ;
Worthies, who life by useful arts refined,
With those who leave a deathless name behind,
Friends of the world, and fathers of mankind." — Pitt's translation.
1 " Plato, in the dialogue entitled ' Phcedo,' represents Socrates on the
morning of his execution, as holding a conversation with his friends, on
the soul's immortality, in which, among other arguments, he endeavors
to establish the doctrine of the soul's future existence, upon the principle
of its having existed before its union with the body. This was attempt
ing to support the truth of the hypothesis in question, by resting it on
another altogether conjectural and precarious. But these two proposi
tions, though totally distinct from, and unconnected with each other, were
held by all the ancient philosophers who maintained the future perman
ency of the soul, to have a mutual dependence, and necessarily to stand
or fall together. For, as they raised their arguments for the soul's im
mortality chiefly on metaphysical ground ; they clearly perceive, as the
very learned Cudworth observes, " If it were once granted that the soul
was generated, it could never be proved but it might also be corrupted.'
Keasonings of this kind, indeed, are generally more specious than satisfac
tory; and perhaps, every sensible reader, after perusing what the most
acute metaphysicians have written on this important article, will find him
self not very far from the same state of mind as Cicero's Tusculan disciple
was after reading Plato ; ' nescio quomodo,' says he, ' dum lego assenti-
or ; cum posui librum, assensio omnis ilia elabitur.' " — Melmoth.

THE VISION OF SCIPIO. 293

" Not so, my son (he replied) ; unless that God, whose
temple is all this which you behold, shall free you from this
imprisonment in the body, you can have no admission to this
place ; for men have been created under this condition, that
they should keep that globe which you see in the middle of
this temple, and which is called the earth. And a soul has
been supplied to them from those eternal fires which you
call constellations and stars, and which, being globular and
round, are animated with divine spirit, and complete their
cycles and revolutions with amazing rapidity. Therefore you,
my Publius, and all good men, must preserve your souls
in the keeping of your bodies ; nor are you, without the
order of that Being who bestowed them upon you, to depart
from mundane life, lest you seem to desert the duty of a
man, which has been assigned you by God.1 Therefore,
Scipio, like your grandfather here, and me who begot you,
cultivate justice and piety ; which, while it should be great
toward your parents and relations, should be greatest to
ward your country.2 Such a life is the path to heaven and
the assembly of those who have lived before, and who,
having been released from their bodies, inhabit that place
which thou beholdest." 3

1 This sentiment, in reprehension of the practice of suicide, has been
previously noticed in the notes on Cicero's Treatises on Friendship and
Old Age, where he states that this particular illustration is taken from
Pythagoras. It has in it far more of Christian philosophy than is to be
found in the reasonings of many modern moralists.

2 " The love of our country has often been found to be a deceitful
principle, as its direct tendency is to set the interests of one division of
mankind in opposition to another, and to establish a preference built upon
accidental relations and not upon reason. Much of what has been un
derstood by the appellation is excellent ; but, perhaps, nothing that can
be brought within the strict interpretation of the phrase. A wise and
well-informed man will not fail to bo the votary of liberty and justice.
He will be ready to exert himself in their defense wherever they exist.
It can not be a matter of indifference to him when his own liberty and
that of other men, with whose merits and capacities ho has the best op
portunity of being acquainted, are involved in the event of the struggle
to be made ; but his attachment will be to the cause, as the cause of
man and not to the country. Wherever there are individuals who un
derstand the value of political justice, and are prepared to assert it, that
is his country ; wherever he can most contribute to the diffusion of thoso
principles, and the real happiness of mankind, that is his country. Nor
does he desire for any country, any other benefit than justice."
win's Political Justice, book v. chap. 16.

8 So Yirgil, " Macto tua virtute, puer, sic itur ad astra."

294 THE VISION OF SCIPIO.

Now the place my father spoke of was a radiant circle of
dazzling brightness amid the flaming bodies, which you, as
you have learned from the Greeks, term the Milky Way ;
from which position all other objects seemed to me, as I sur
veyed them, marvelous and glorious. There were stars
which we never saw from this place, and their magnitudes
were such as we never imagined ; the smallest of which was
that which, placed upon the extremity of the heavens, but
nearest to the earth, shone with borrowed light. But the
globular bodies of the stars greatly exceeded the magnitude
of the earth, which now to me appeared so small, that I was
grieved to see our empire contracted, as it were, into a very
point.1

Which, while I was too eagerly gazing on, Africanus said,
" How long will your attention be fixed upon the earth ?
Do you not see into what temples you have entered ? All
things are connected by nine circles, or rather spheres ; one
of which (which is the outermost) is heaven, and compre
hends all the rest, (inhabited by) that all-powerful God,
who bounds and controls the others ; and in this sphere
reside the original principles of those endless revolutions
which the planets perform. Within this are contained seven
other spheres, that turn round backward, that is, in a con
trary direction to that of the heaven. Of these, that planet
which on earth you call Saturn, occupies one sphere. That
shining body which you see next is called Jupiter, and is
friendly and salutary to mankind. Next the lucid one, ter
rible to the earth, which you call Mars. The Sun holds the
next place, almost under the middle region ; he is the chief,
the leader, and the director of the other luminaries ; he is
the soul and guide of the world, and of such immense bulk,
that he illuminates and fills all other objects with his light.
He is followed by the orbit of Venus, and that of Mercury,
as attendants ; and the Moon rolls in the lowest sphere, en
lightened by the rays of the Sun. Below this there is
nothing but what is mortal and transitory, excepting those

1 If we compare this passage with the fortieth chapter of the Prophe
sies of Isaiah, and also the fourth eclogue of Virgil, with other parts of
the same prophesy, we shall find it difficult to believe that that inspired
book had not in part or wholly come to the knowledge of the Romans
as early as the age of Cicero.

THE VISION OF SOIPIO. 295

souls which, are given to the human race by the goodness of
the gods. Whatever lies above the Moon is eternal. For
the earth, which is the ninth sphere, and is placed in the
center of the whole system, is immovable and below all the
rest; and all bodies, by their natural gravitation, tend to
ward it."

Which as I was gazing at in amazement I said, as I
recovered myself, from whence proceed these sounds so
strong, and yet so sweet, that fill my ears ? " The melody
(replies he) which you hear, and which, though composed
in unequal time, is nevertheless divided into regular har
mony, is effected by the impulse and motion of the spheres
themselves, which, by a happy temper of sharp and grave
notes, regularly produces various harmonic effects. Now it
is impossible that such prodigious movements should pass in
silence ; and nature teaches that the sounds which the
spheres at one extremity utter must be sharp, and those on
the other extremity must be grave ; on which account, that
highest revolution of the star-studded heaven, whose motion
is more rapid, is carried on with a sharp and quick sound ;
whereas this of the moon, which is situated the lowest, and
at the other extremity, moves with the gravest sound. For
the earth, the ninth sphere, remaining motionless, abides in
variably in the innermost position, occupying the central
spot in the universe.

" Now these eight directions, two of which1 have the same
powers, effect seven sounds, differing in their modulations,
which number is the connecting principle of almost all
things. Some learned men, by imitating this harmony with
strings and vocal melodies, have opened a way for their re
turn to this place ; as all others have done, who, endued
with pre-eminent qualities, have cultivated in their mortal
life the pursuits of heaven.

"The ears of mankind, filled with these sounds, have be
come deaf, for of all your senses it is the most blunted.2 Thus,

1 Mercury and Venus are the planets here referred to.

2 The idea of the music of the spheres has embellished the composi
tions of many poets, both ancient and modern. One passage, however,
in the pages of Shakespeare appears to have been suggested by this part
of the writings of Cicero. It is as follows : —

" Sit, Jessica, see how the floor of heaven
Is thick inlaid with patines of bright gold;

296 THE VISION OF SCIPIO.

the people who live near the place where the Nile rushes
down from very high mountains to the parts which are
called Catadupa, are destitute of the sense of hearing, by
reason of the greatness of the noise. Now this sound, which
is effected by the rapid rotation of the whole system of
nature, is so powerful that human hearing can not compre
hend it, just as you cannot look directly upon the sun, because
your sight and sense are overcome by his beams."

Though admiring these scenes, yet I still continued direct
ing my eyes in the same direction toward the earth. On
this Africanus said, " I perceive that even now you are con
templating the abode and home of the human race.1 And
as this appears to you diminutive, as it really is,3 fix your
regard upon these celestial scenes, and despise those abodes

There is not a single star which thou beholdest
But in its motion like an angel sings,
Still quiring to the young-eyed cherubim.
Such harmony is in immortal souls :
But while this muddy vesture of decay
Doth grossly close us in, we can not hear it."

Merchant of Yenice.

1 " If minds in general are not made to be strongly affected by the
phenomena of the earth and heavens ; they are, however, all subject to
be powerfully influenced by the appearances and character of the human
world. I suppose a child in Switzerland, growing up to a man, would
have acquired incomparably more of the cast of his mind from the events,
manners, and actions of the next village, though its inhabitants were but
his occasional companions, than from all the mountain scenes, the cata
racts, and every circumstance of beauty or sublimity in nature around
him. "We are all true to our species, and very soon feel its importance
to us (though benevolence be not the basis of the interest), far beyond
the importance of any thing that we can see beside. Beginning your
observation with children, you may have noted how instantly they will
turn their attention away from any of the aspects of nature, however
rare or striking, if human objects present themselves to view in any act
ive manner."— John Foster, Essay I.

9 " Is it for no purpose that the human eye is permitted to traverse
the immensity of space ? or is it with no moral intention that now at
length, and after five thousand years of labor and conjecture, a true no
tion of the material universe has been attained and has become diffused
among all ranks in every civilized community? At last, and in these
times, man knows his place in the heavens, and is taught to think justly
of the relative importance of the planet which has given him birth.
During a long course of centuries, it was to little purpose, or to little in
relation to man, that the emanations of light had passed and re-passed
from side to side of the universe j for until of late, that is to say, the last

THE VISION OF SCIPIO.

of men. What celebrity are you able to attain to in the dis
course of men, or what glory that ought to be desired ? You
perceive that men dwell on but few and scanty portions of
the earth, and that amid these spots, as it were, vast soli
tudes are interposed ! As to those who inhabit the earth,
not only are they so separated that no communication can
circulate among them from the one to the other, but part lie
upon one side, part upon another, and part are diametrically
opposite to you, from whom you assuredly can expect no
glory.

You are now to observe that the same earth is encircled
and encompassed as it were by certain zones, of which the
two that are most distant from one another, and lie as it
were toward the vortexes of the heavens in both directions,
are rigid as you see with frost, while the middle and the
largest zone is burned up with the heat of the sun. Two of
these are habitable; of which the southern, whose inhabit
ants imprint their footsteps in an opposite direction to you,
have no relation to your race. As to this other, lying to
ward the north, which you inhabit, observe what a small
portion of it falls to your share ; for all that part of the
earth which is inhabited by you, which narrows toward the
south and north,1 but widens from east to west, is no other
than a little island surrounded by that sea which on earth
you call the Atlantic, sometimes the great sea, and some
times the ocean ; and yet with so grand a name, you see how
diminutive it is ! Now do you think it possible for your re
nown, or that of any one of us, to move from those cultivated
and inhabited spots of ground, and pass beyond that Cau
casus, or swim across yonder Ganges ?a What inhabitant of

three centuries, it was not certainly known whether this earth (itself
unexplored), were not the only scene of life, and whether the sun, the
stars, and the planets were any thing more than brilliants floating in an
upper ether." — Taylor's Physical Theory of Another Life, chap. 15.

1 Which narrows toward the south and north, etc. This is a very curi
ous passage, and if our author's interpreters are to be believed, he was
acquainted with the true figure of the earth, a discovery which is gene
rally thought to have been reserved for Sir Isaac Newton, and to have
been confirmed by some late experiments ; but I own I am not without
some doubts as to our author's meaning, whether he does not here speak,
not of the whole face of the earth, but of that part of it which was pos
sessed or conquered by the Romans. — Guthrie.

2 " What might be," says Dr. Johnson, after quoting this passage,

13*

298 THE VISION OP SCIPIO.

the other parts of the east, or of the extreme regions of the
setting sun, of those tracts that run toward the south or
toward the north, shall ever hear of your name ? Now sup
posing them cut off, you see at once within what narrow
limits your glory would fain expand itself. As to those who
speak of you, how long will they speak ?

Let me even suppose that a future race of men shall be
desirous of transmitting to their posterity your renown or
mine, as they received it from their fathers ; yet when we
consider the convulsions and conflagrations that must neces
sarily happen at some definite period, we are unable to attain
not only to an eternal, but even to a lasting fame.1 Now of

"the effect of these observations conveyed in Ciceronian eloquence to
Boman understandings, can not be determined ; but few of those, who
shall in the present age read my humble version will find themselves
much depressed in their hopes or retarded in their design ; for I am not
inclined to believe that they who among us pass their lives in the culti
vation of knowledge or acquisition of power, have very anxiously inquired
what opinions prevail on the further banks of the G-anges, or invigorated
any effort by the desire of spreading their renown among the clans of
Caucasus. The hopes and fears of modern minds are content to rango
in a narrower compass ; a single nation and a few years, have generally
sufficient amplitude to fill our imaginations. A little consideration will
indeed teach us that fame has other limits than mountains and oceans,
and that he who places happiness in the frequent repetition of his name,
may spend his life in propagating it, without any danger of weeping for
new worlds, or necessity of passing the Atlantic sea.

"IfJ therefore, he that imagines the world filled with his actions and
praises, shall subduct from the number of his encomiast, all those who
are placed below the flight of fame, and who hear in the valleys of life
no voice but that of necessity ; all those who imagine themselves too
important to regard him, and consider the mention of his name as a
usurpation of their time ; all who are too much or too little pleased with
themselves to attend to any thing external ; all who are attracted by
pleasure, or chained down by pain to unvaried ideas ; all who are with
held from attending his triumph by different pursuits ; and all who slum
ber in universal negligence, he will find his renown straitened by nearer
bounds than the rocks of Caucasus, and perceive that no man can bo
venerable, or formidable, but to a small part of his fellow-creatures.

" That we may not languish in our endeavors after excellence, it is
necessary that, as Africanus counsels his descendants, ' we raise our eyes
to higher prospects, and contemplate our future and eternal state, with
out giving up our hearts to the praise of crowds, or fixing our hopes on
such rewards as human power can bestow." — Rambler, No. 118.

1 " Lastly, leaving the vulgar arguments that by learning man excell-
eth man in that wherein man excelleth beasts ; that by learning man
ascendeth to the heavens, and their motions, where in body he can not

THE VISION OF SCIPIO. 299

what consequence is it to you to be talked of by those who
are born after you, and not by those who were born before
you, who certainly were as numerous and more virtuous;
especially, as among the very men who are thus to
celebrate our renown, not a single one can preserve the
recollections of a single year ? For mankind ordinarily
measure their year by the revolution of the sun, that is of a
single heavenly body. But when all the planets shall return
to the same position which they once had, and bring back
after a long rotation the same aspect of the entire heavens,
then the year may be said to be truly completed ; in which I
do not venture to say how many ages of mankind will be
contained. For, as of old, when the spirit of Romulus

come, and the like ; let us conclude with the dignity and excellency of
knowledge and learning in that whereunto man's nature doth most as
pire, which is immortality or continuance. For to this tendeth genera
tion, and raising of houses and families ; to this buildings, foundations,
and monuments ; to this tendeth the desire of memory, fame and cele
bration, and in effect the strength of all other human desires. "We see,
then, how far the monuments of wit and learning are more durable than,
the monuments of power, or of the hands. For have not the verses of
Homer continued twenty-five hundred years or more, without the loss
of a syllable or letter, during which time infinite palaces, temples, castles,
cities, have been decayed and demolished ? It is not possible to have
the true pictures of statues of Cyrus, Alexander, Cassar, no, nor of tho
kings or great personages of much later years ; for the originals can not
last, and the copies can not but lose of the life and truth. But the im
ages of men's wits and knowledge remain in books exempted from the
wrong of time, and capable of perpetual renovation. Neither are they
fitly to be called images, because they generate still, and cast their seeds
in the minds of others, provoking and causing infinite actions and opin
ions in succeeding ages ; so that if the invention of the ship was thought
so noble, which carrieth riches and commodities from place to place, and
consociateth the most remote regions in participation of their fruits, how
much more are letters to be magnified, which, as ships, pass through the
vast seas of time, and make ages so distant to participate of the wisdom,
illuminations, and inventions, the one of the other? Nay, further, we
see some of the philosophers, which were least divine and most immersed
in the senses, and denied generally the immortality of tho soul, yet came
to this point, that whatsoever motions the spirit of man could act and
perform without the organs of the body, they thought might remain after
death, which were only those of the understanding, and not of the affec
tions ; so immortal and incorruptible a thing did knowledge seem unto
them to be. But we that know by divine revelation that not only the
understanding but the affections purified, not only the spirit but the body
changed, shall be advanced to immortality, to disclaim these rudiments
of the senses." — Lord Bacon's Advancement of Learning, Book I,

300 THE YISION OF SCIPIO.

entered these temples, the sun disappeared to mortals and
seemed to be extinguished ; so whenever the sun be eclipsed
at the same time with all the stars, and constellations, brought
back to the same starting-point, shall again disappear, then
you are to reckon the year to be complete. But be assured
that the twentieth part of such a year is not yet elapsed.

IfJ therefore, you hope to return to this place, toward
which all the aspirations of great and good men are tending,
what must be the value of that human fame that endures for
but a little part of a single year I1 If, then, you would fain
direct your regards on high, and aspire to this mansion and
eternal abode, you neither will devote yourself to the
rumors of the vulgar, nor will you rest your hopes and
your interest on human rewards. Virtue herself ought to
attract you by her own charms to true glory; what others
may talk of you, for talk they will, let themselves consider.
But' all such talk is confined to the narrow limits of those
regions which you see. None respecting any man was ever
lasting. It is both extinguished by the death of the individual
and perishes altogether in the oblivion of posterity.2

1 " Le cygne qui s'envole aux voutes eternelles,
Amis, s'informe-t-il si 1'ombre de ses ailes.
Motto encore sur un vil gazon ?"

Lamartine. Le Poete Mourant.

The contrast between the vanity of posthumous fame and the glories
of a future state of happiness, is represented by Dr. South in the follow
ing majestic passage :

" Tune, like a river, carries them all away with a rapid course ; they
swim above the stream for a while, but are quickly swallowed up, and
seen no more. The very monuments men raise to perpetuate their names
consume and molder away themselves, and proclaim their own mortality,
as well as testify that of others. But now on the other side, the enjoy
ments above and the treasures proposed to us by our Saviour are inde
fectible in their nature and endless in their duration. They are still full,
fresh, and entire, like the stars and orbs above, which shine with the
same undiminished luster, and move with the same unwearied motion
with which they did from the first date of their creation. Nay, the joys
of heaven will abide when these lights of heaven will be put out, and
when sun and moon, and nature itself shall be discharged their stations,
and be employed by Providence no more ; the righteous shall then ap
pear in their full glory, and, being fixed in the Divine presence, enjoy
one perpetual and everlasting day : a day commensurate to the unlimited
eternity of God himself, the great Sun of Righteousness, who is always
rising and never sets.1' — South's Sermons, vol. L Sermon 48.

2 This ia another of the instances in which the sentiments of Cicero

THE VISION OF SCIPIO. 301

Which when he had said, I replied, " Truly, 0 Africanus,
since the path to heaven lies open to those who have
deserved well of their country, though from my childhood I
have ever trod in your and my father's footsteps without
disgracing your glory, yet now, with so noble a prize set
before me, I shall strive with much more diligence."

" Do so strive," replied he, " and do not consider yourself
but your body, to be mortal. For you are not the being
which this corporeal figure evinces ; but the mind of every
man is the man, and not that form which may be delineated1

coincide as nearly as possible with Scripture in the Book of Ecclesiastes,
chap. ii. ver. 14-22. "The wise man's eyes are in his head; but the
fool walketh in darkness. And I myself perceived also that one event
happeneth to them all. Then said I in my heart, As it happeneth to the
fool, so it happeneth even to me ; and why was I then more wise ?
Then I said in my heart, that this also is vanity. For there is no re
membrance of the wise more than of the fool forever; seeing that which
now is, in the days to come shall all be forgotten. And how dieth the
wise man ? As the fool. Therefore, I hated life ; because the work that
is wrought under the sun is grievous unto me ; for all is vanity and vex
ation of spirit. Yea, I hated all my labor which I had taken under the
sun ; because I should leave it unto the man that shall be after me.
And who knoweth whether he shall»be a wise man or a fool ? Yet shall
he have rule over all my labor wherein I have labored, and wherein I
have showed myself wise under the sun. This is also vanity. There
fore I went about to cause my heart to despair of all the labor which I
took under the sun. For there is a man whose labor is in wisdom, and
in knowledge, and in equity ; yet to a man that hath not labored therein
shall he leave it for his portion. This also is vanity and a great eviL
For what hath man of all his labor, and of the vexation of his heart,
wherein he hath labored under the sun ?"

1 The principle here enunciated by Cicero is thus expanded by Bishop
Butler into an argument for the soul's immortality:

" From our being so nearly related to and interested in certain systems
of matter, suppose our flesh and bones, and afterward ceasing to be at all
related to them, the living agents, ourselves, remaining all this while un-
destroyed, notwithstanding such alienation ; and consequently these sys
tems of matter not being ourselves ; it follows further, that we have no
ground to conclude any other supposed interval system of matter to be
the living agents ourselves ; because we can have no ground to conclude
this, but BO form our relation to and interest in such other system of
matter at death, to be the destruction of the living agents. We have
already several times over lost a great part or perhaps the whole of our
body, according to certain common established laws of nature, yet we
remain the same living agents ; when we shall lose as great a part, or
the whole, by another common established law of nature, death, why
may we not also remain the same?

£02 THE VISION OP SCIPIO.

with a finger. Know therefore * that you are a divine person.
Since it is divinity2 that has consciousness, sensation, memory,
and foresight ; — that governs, regulates, and moves that body
over which it has been appointed, just as the Supreme Deity
rules this world; and in like manner, as an eternal God
guides this world, which in some respect is perishable, so an
eternal spirit animates your frail body.

For that which is ever moving3 is eternal ; now that which
communicates to another object a motion which it received

" That the alienation has been gradual in one case, and in the other
will be more at once, does not prove any thing to the contrary. We
have passed undestroyed through those many and great revolutions of
matter so peculiarly appropriated to us ourselves ; why should we ima
gine death will be so fatal to us ? Nor can it be objected, that what is
thus alienated or lost is no part of our original solid body, but only ad
ventitious matter ; because we may lose entire limbs, which must have
contained many solid parts and vessels of the original body ; or if this
be not admitted, we have no proof that any of these solid parts are dis
solved or alienated by death. Though, by the way, we are very nearly
related to that extraneous or adventitious matter while it continues
united to, and distending the several parts of, our solid body. But after
all the relation a person bears to those parts of his body to which he is
the most nearly related, what does ;t appear to amount to but this, that
the living agent and those parts of the body mutually affect each other ?
And the same thing, the same thing in kind though not in degree, may be
said of all foreign matter which gives us ideas, and which we have any
power over. From these observations the whole ground of the imagin
ation is removed, that the dissolution of any matter is the destruction of
a living agent, from the interest he once had in such matter."

1 " It was the common opinion of all the ancient philosophers who fol
lowed the system of Pythagoras, that the souls of men, and even of
beasts, were portions of divinity. What opinion our author had of the
properties and immortality of the soul is difficult to determine. For we
are not to imagine that in the passage before us, and in many others in
which he mentions the subject, he gives his own sentiments, but those
of others ; accordingly, in his first book, JDe Natura Deorum, he makes
Veleius, one of his prolocutors, absolutely destroy the doctrine which is
advanced here." — Guthrie.

" 'T is the Divinity that stirs within us,
'T is heaven itself that points out an hereafter,
And intimates eternity to man 1" — Addison's Cato.

3 " All this doctrine is taken almost word for word from the Phoedrug
of Plato, and Macrobius has reduced it to the following syllogism. The
soul is self-motive; now self-motion contains the principle of motion, thu
principle of motion is not created, therefore the soul is not created." —
Guthrie.

THE VISION OF SCIPIO. 303

elsewhere, must necessarily cease to live as soon as its motion
is at an end. Thus the being which is self-motive is the
only being that is eternal, because it never is abandoned by
its own properties, neither is this self-motion ever at an end ;
nay, this is the fountain, this is the beginning of motion to
all things that are thus subjects of motion. Now there can
be no commencement of what is aboriginal, for all things
proceed from a beginning ; therefore a beginning can rise
from no other cause, for if it proceeded from another cause it
would not be aboriginal, which, if it have no commencement,
certainly never has an end ; for the primeval principle, if
extinct, can neither be re-produced from any other source nor
produce any thing else from itself, because it is necessary
that all things should spring from some original source. The
principle of motion, therefore, can only exist in a self-motive
being, and it is impossible that such a being should be born
or that it should die, otherwise all heaven must go to wreck,
and the whole system of nature must stop ; nor can it come
under any other force, should it be removed from its original
impulsion.1

Since therefore it is plain that whatever is self-motive
must be eternal, who can deny that this natural property is

1 It only remains then to bring this idea of the material word into
connection with the principle that motion, in all cases, originates from
mind ; or in other words, in the effect of will — either the supreme will,
or the will of created minds. Motion is either constant and uniform,
obeying what we call a law, or it is incidental. The visible and palpable
world then, according to this theory, is MOTION, constant and uniform,
emanating from infinite centers, and spreading during every instant of
its continuance from the creative energy. The instantaneous cessation
of this energy, at any period, is therefore abstractedly quite as easily
conceived of as is its continuance ; and whether, in the next instant, it
shall continue, or shall cease — whether the material universe shall stand
or shall vanish — is an alternative of which, irrespective of other reasons,
the one member may be as easily taken as the other ; jnst as the moving
of the hand, or the not moving it, in the next moment depends upon
nothing but our volition. The annihilation of the solid spheres — the
planets, and the suns, that occupy the celestial spaces, would not on this
supposition be an act of irresistible force crushing that which resists
compression, or dissipating and reducing to an ether that which firmly
coheres ; but it would simply be the non-exertion in the next instant of
a power which has been exerted in this instant ; it would be, not a de
struction, but a rest ; not a crash and ruin, but a pause. — Taylor's Physi
cal Theory of another Life, chap, xviii.

304 THE VISION OF SCIPIO.

bestowed upon our minds ?* For every thing that is moved
by a foreign impulse is inanimate, but that which is animate
is impelled by an inward and peculiar principle of motion ;
and in that consists the nature and property of the soul.
Now if it alone of all things is self-motive, assuredly it never
was originated, and is eternal. Do thou therefore employ it
in the noblest of pursuits, and the noblest of cares are those

1 "It is motion that measures duration, and time is duration, measur
ed into equal parts by the equable motion of bodies through space. But
as motion belongs to matter, of which it is a condition, and is that where
in duration and extension combine to form a common product, so mind
must become related to extension, in order to its having any knowledge
of motion, or to its being able to avail itself of the measurement of dura
tion ; in other words, it is only in connection with matter that it can
know any thing of time.

"Minds embodied, not only learn to measure out their own existence
equally, and to correct the illusions of which otherwise they would be
the sport, but also, by an insensible habit, they came to exist at a more
even velocity, if we may so speak, than could else be possible, and learn,
unconsciously to put a curb upon the excessive and dangerous rapidity
of thought ; while in other cases a spur is supplied for the sluggishness
of the mind, or a remedy found for its undue fixedness ; and thus all
minds are brought to move together at nearly the same rate, or at least
as nearly so as is essential for securing the order and harmony of the
social system.

" But then, this same intimate connection between mind and matter,
while it exposes the mind, passively, to the influence of the inferior ele
ment, becomes in return the means of its exerting a power — and how
extensive and mysterious a power is it — over the solid matter around it.
Mind, embodied, by a simple act or volition, originates motion. That
is to say, its will or desire, through the instrumentality of muscular con
tractions, as applied to the body itself, or to other bodies, puts it or them
in movement. This power of the mind in overcoming the vis inertice of
matter and the force of gravitation, ia the only active influence in rela
tion to the material world which we have a certain knowledge of its
possessing ; for, as is obvious, the various combinations of substances
that are brought about by the skill of man, are all indirectly effected
through the instrumentality of the muscular system ; nor can it be ascer
tained, whether the chemical changes and assimilations that are carried
on in the secreting glands and the viscera are effected by an unconsious
involuntary mental operation. This organic influence excepted, suppos
ing it to exist, the mechanical power of the mind is the only one it en.
joys; but this it enjoys in no mean degree. It may, without much
hazard, bo assumed, that motion in all instances originates in an imme
diate volition, either of the supreme or of some created mind, and that
this power is exerted by the latter through the means of a corporeal
structure." — Taylor's Physical Theory of Another Life, chap. ii.

THE YISION OF SCIPIO. 305

for the safety of thy country. The soul that is stirred and
agitated by these will fly the more quickly to this mansion/
even to its own home,1 and this will be the more rapid, if
even now, while it is imprisoned within the body it sallies
abroad, and, contemplating those objects that are without it,
abstracts itself as much as possible from the body. For the
souls of those men who are devoted to corporeal pleasures
themselves, and who having yielded themselves as it were
as their servants, enslaved to pleasures under the impulse
of their passions, have violated the laws of gods and men ;
such souls, having escaped from their bodies, hover round the
earth, nor do they return to this place, till they have been
tossed about for many ages." He vanished, and I awoke from
my sleep.

1 "We can not better conclude our notes on this interesting fragment,
than by the peroration of that sermon of the late Robert Hall which
was possibly suggested by this passage, and indeed some of the greatest
beauties of that discourse seem to have been, by passages from the fore
going treatises of Cicero : —

"To that state all the pious on earth are tending, and if there is a law
from whose operation none are exempt, which inevitably conveys their
bodies to darkness and to dust, there is another not less certain, or less
powerful, which conducts their spirits to the abodes of bliss, to the bosom
of their father and their God. The wheels of nature are not made to roll
backward. Every thing presses on to eternity. From the birth of time
an impetuous current has set in, which bears all the sons of men toward
that interminable ocean. Meanwhile, heaven is attracting to itself,
whatever is congenial to its nature, is enriching itself by the spoils of the
earth, and collecting within its capacious bosom whatever is pure, per
manent, and divine, leaving nothing for the last fire to consume but the
objects and slaves of concupiscence ; while every thing which grace has
prepared and beautified, shall be gathered and selected from the ruins of
the world to adorn that eternal city.

"Let us obey the voice that calls us thither; let us seek the things
that are above, and no longer cleave to a world which must shortly
perish, and which we must shortly quit, while we neglect to prepare for
that in which we are invited to dwell forever. While every thing
within us and around us reminds us of the approach of death, and con
curs to teach us that this is not our rest, let us hasten our preparations
for another world, and earnestly implore that grace which alone can put
an end to that fatal war which our desires have too long waged with
our destiny. "When these move in the same direction, and that which
the will of heaven renders unavoidable, shall become our choice, all
things will be ours ; life will be divested of its vanity, and death disarm'
ed of its terrors." — Hall's Funeral Sermon for Dr. Ryland.

306 CICERO ON THE

ON THE

DUTIES OF A MAGISTRATE.

ADDRESSED TO HIS BROTHER QUINTUS.1

THOUGH I doubt not2 that many messengers and indeed
that rumor itself with characteristic rapidity will have out
stripped this letter, and that you will already have heard
that a third year has been added to your labors, and to our
impatience, yet I have thought that the announcement of this
annoyance should be made to you by me also. For while
every one else despaired of the success, I still, by repeated
letters, gave you hopes of an early return, not only that I
might amuse you as long as possible with that pleasing-
expectation, but because I did not doubt that through the
strong interest made both by me and the praetors the object
might be accomplished. Now as it has so happened that
neither the praetors by their interest, nor I by my zeal, were
able to effect any thing, it is certainly difficult not to feel
mortification at it, but yet we ought never to suffer our
minds which are employed in managing and supporting the
arduous affairs of government to be crushed or dejected by
misfortune. And because men ought to be most annoyed by
those ills which are incurred by their own faults, there is in
this transaction somewhat more afflicting to me than ought to
be to you, for it happened by my misconduct contrary to
your understanding with me when parting, and subsequently

1 Quintus Cicero was at this time propraetor of Asia Minor.

3 In the original " non dubitabam" The Roman idiom in epistolary
writing, is that the verbs by which the writer expresses a present action
or state, are put in the past tense ; that is, as it will appear, to the per-
Bon who subsequently reads the letter.

DUTIES OF A MAGISTRATE. 307

by letters, that your successor was not named last year. This I
did unwisely, with a view of consulting the welfare of our allies,
of crushing the presumptuousness of certain traders,1 and with
the desire of increasing my own glory through your merits ; es
pecially as I effected the result of a third year being added to
that second.

Having thus frankly acknowledged that it was my fault, it
is the part of your wisdom and kindness to take care and
manage that this which has been unwisely schemed by me
may be corrected by your diligence ; and surely, if you exert
yourself in all the duties of government so as to seem to vie
not only with others but with yourself, if you call in use all
your faculties, all your attention, all your thought, to that
love of glory, which is so powerfully prevalent in all trans
actions, believe me, that one year added to your toil will
bring many years of pleasure to us, and even glory to our pos
terity. Wherefore, I in the first place beg of you, that
you will not suffer your spirit to be damped or diminished,
nor yourself to be overwhelmed, as with a flood, by the
multitude of business ; but that, on the contrary, you will
arouse yourself, and make a firm stand, even if you spon
taneously incur it ; for you do not bear a part in such a
government as is governed by fortune, but one in which
discretion and diligence has the greatest influence. Had I
seen your command prolonged at a time when you were
involved in the management of some great and dangerous
war, then I should have been disquieted in my mind, because
I should have been sensible that the power of fortune over
us was prolonged at the same time. But since that depart
ment of the state has been committed to you in which
fortune has very little or no part, it seems to me to
depend entirely on your own virtue and wisdom. We
apprehend, I think, no treachery of enemies ; no revolt of
our allies ; no want of money or scarcity of provisions, and
no mutiny in the army. Yet these have often happened to
the wisest of men, who are forced to yield to the assaults of

1 Traders. " Several complaints had been carried to Rome against
Quintus, and Cicero thought that his brother remaining another year in
his government might have stifled them. The reader is to observe that
this government was the province of Asia Minor, one of the best the
Romans had, and that a great many merchants resided there for the
benefit of commerce." — Guthrie.

308 CICERO ON THE

fortune, as the best of pilots sometimes are to the violence of a
tempest.

The most profound peace and perfect tranquillity has
fallen to your lot ; but though those are circumstances that
may well give pleasure to a vigilant steersman, yet they may
be fatal to a sleeping one. For your province is composed,
first of that kind of allies, who of all the human race are the
most humanized ; and in the next place of those Roman
citizens, who either as farmers of the public revenues, are
most intimately connected with me,1 or, having so traded as
to have become rich, consider they possess their fortunes in
security through the beneficial influence of my consular
administration. Yet even among these very men serious dis
putes exist, many injustices are committed, and great con
tentions are the consequence ; and, thinking thus, I am
sensible that you have not a little business upon your
hands. I know that this business is very important, and
requires great wisdom. But still remember that I main
tain that this is a business which rather requires wisdom
than good fortune. If you restrain yourself, how easy
is it to restrain those you govern. This may indeed be
a great and difficult matter to others, as indeed it is a most
difficult achievement ; but the practice of it was ever easy to
you ; and well it might be, as your disposition is such that it
seems capable of moderation even without harming; while
such an education has been enjoyed by you as would be
capable of correcting the most vicious nature. When you
check, as you do, the passion for money, for pleasure, and
for all other things, can there be forsooth any danger of
your being unable to restrain a dishonest trader, or a too
rapacious publican ? For even the Greeks, when they
behold your living in this manner, will think that some one

1 So Cicero in his speech in support of the Manilian Law, says, in
speaking of this same class : — " Equitibus Romanis honestissimis viris,
afferuntur ex Asia quotidie literse quorum magnae res aguntur, in vestris
vectigalibus exercendis occupatee ; qui ad me, pro neccessitudine, quge
mihi est cum illo ordine, causam rei publicae periculaque rerum suarum
detulerunt."

"Letters are daily brought from Asia, from Roman knights, most
honorable men largely engaged in the farming of your revenues, who, in
consideration of the close relationship which subsists between me and
that order, have laid before me the cause of the state and the jeopardy
of their own interests."

DUTIES OF A MAGISTRATE. 309

from the records of their ancient history, or some divine person
from heaven has descended upon that province.1

I write to you in this strain, not that you might practice
these things, but that you may rejoice that you do practice
them, and that you have ever done so. For it is a glorious
thing for a man to have been invested with a three years'
sovereign power in Asia, in such a manner that no statue, no
picture, no plate, no garment, no slave, no beauty, no hoard
of money, in which things this province abounds, ever caused
him to swerve from his continence and moderation ! 2 Again

1 We have a striking parallel passage to this in Cicero's oration, " Pro
Lege Manilia." In eulogizing the continence of Pompey in Asia Minor,
he says, " Non avaritia ab institute cursu ad prsedam aliquam devocavit,
non libido ad voluptatem, non amoenitas ad delectationem, non nobilitas
urbis ad cognitionem, non denique labor ipse ad quietem Postremo signa,
et tabulas, ceteraque ornamenta Grascorum oppidorum, quee ceteri tollen-
da esse arbitrantur, ea sibi ille no visenda quidem existimavit. Itaque
omnes quidem, nunc in his locis On. Pompeium, sicut aliquem non ex
hac urbe missum, sed de coelo delapsum, intuentur."

" Neither did avarice call him away from the course he had laid down,
to the acquisition of any gain, nor his passions to any pleasure, nor the
magnificence of a city to acquaint himself with it, nor fatigue itself to
repose. Moreover those statues and paintings and other ornaments of
Greek towns, which others consider as things to be carried away, he did
not-even regard as objects to be visited, and thus indeed all men now in
these regions look upon Cneius Pompey, not as a certain individual dis
patched from this city, but as one descended from heaven."

2 " Statues and paintings, and works of art in general, were favorite
objects of rapacity with the Roman commanders, and were carried off
without any scruple. The statues and pictures which MarceUus trans
ported from Syracuse to Rome, first excited that cupidity which led the
Roman provincial magistrates to pillage without scruple or distinction,
the houses of private individuals, and the temples of the gods. Marcellua
and Mummius, however, despoiled only hostile and conquered countries.
They had made over their plunder to the public, and after it was con
veyed to Rome, devoted to the embellishment of the capital ; but subse
quent governors of provinces, having acquired a taste for works of art,
began to appropriate to themselves those masterpieces of Greece, which,
they had formerly neither known nor esteemed. Some contrived plausi
ble pretexts for borrowing valuable works of art from cities and private
persons, without any intention of restoring them, while others, less cau
tious or more shameless, seized whatever pleased them, whether public
or private property, without excuse or remuneration. But though thia
passion was common to most provincial governors, none of them ever
came up to the full measure of the rapacity of Verree, when praetor of
Sicily. He seized tapestry, pictures, gold and silver, plate, vases, gems,
and Corinthian bronzes, till he literally did not leave a single article of

310 CICERO ON THE

what can be a more distinguished, a more desirable circumstance,
than that this virtue, this moderation, this purity of mind, should
not be buried or concealed in darkness, but displayed in the
sight of Asia, to the eyes of the noblest of our provinces, and to
the ears of all people and nations. That the inhabitants are
not alarmed at your journeys ! — that they are not impoverished
by your expenses ! — that they are not frightened by your ap
proach ! — that there is the utmost rejoicing, both public and
private, wherever you go ? — that every town seems to receive
you as its guardian, not as its tyrant !— every house as a guest,
not as a robber ! 1

But upon this subject, experience by this time must have
instructed you that it is not sufficient for you alone to
practice these virtues, but you are to give careful attention,
that invested as you are with this government, not only you,
but all officers subordinate to your authority, are to act for
the good of our allies, of our fellow-citizens, and of our
country. You have, it is true, lieutenants under you, who
will themselves have regard to their own dignity ; and of
these the chief in preferment, in dignity, and in experience,
is Tubero, who, I make no doubt, especially while he is
writing his history, will be able to choose from his own
annals such models of conduct, as he both can and will
imitate ; and Allienus, too, attached to us as well in affec
tion and inclination, as in imitation of our lives. Need I to
mention Gratidius, who, I know for a certainty, labors for
his own fame, so as, with a brotherly affection for us, to
labor equally for ours. You have a quaestor,* whom lot, and

value of these descriptions in the whole island." — Dunlop's Roman Lite
rature, vol. ii. page 284.

1 Ejusmodi in provinciam homines cum imperio mittimus, ut, etiam si
ah hoste defendant, tamen ipsorum adventus in urbes sociorum non
multum ab hostili expugnatione differant. Hunc audiebant antea, nunc
prsesentem vident, tanta temperantia, tanta mansuetudine, tanta human-
itate, ut is beatissimi esse videantur, apud quos ille diutissime commo-
ratur.*

" We send out into that province such men with military command,
that even if they defend them from the enemy, yet their own entrance
into the cities of our allies differs but little from a hostile invasion ; but
this man, they had heard of before, and now see him present among them
distinguished by so much self-control, so much gentleness, so much hu
manity, that those seem to be the most fortunate with whom he makes
the longest stay." — Cicero's Oration for the Manilian Law.

3 Qucestor. This officer had the charge of the public money, and it

DUTIES OF A MAGISTRATE. 311

not your own choice, appointed to you. It is necessary that he
should both be moderate by his own inclination, and conform
himself to your arrangements and directions.

Should any of your officers appear of a more selfish dis
position, you should bear with him, so long as he only
neglects the laws by which he is bound in his own person,
but not if he should prostitute for interest that power which
you have annexed to his office. It does not however seem
desirable to me, especially as our manners have lately leaned so
much to laxity and ambition, that you should (scrutinize and
dissect out every instance of corruption;1 but to proportion
the trust you repose in every one, according to the degree of
honesty he possesses. In like manner you should be answerable
for those whom our government has given you as assessors and
assistants, only under the restrictions which I have already laid
down.

As to those whom you have chosen to belong to your
domestic establishment, or to be with you as your necessary
retinue, and who are accustomed to be designated as of the
praetor's cohort, you are answerable, not only for all their
actions, but for all their sayings. But you have about your
person those whom you may easily love while they act
rightly ; and such as but slightly consult your reputation you
can most easily coerce. Meanwhile it is natural to suppose
that, while you were inexperienced, your generosity might
have been imposed upon ; for the more virtuous any man is in
himself, the less easily does he suspect others to be vicious.2

was determined by lot in what province he should serve. He likewise
paid the soldiers, and acted as contractor for the army.

1 Shakespeare seems to have had this passage in his recollection when
he wrote that passage in his play of Julius Caesar :

" At such a time as this it is not meet
That every nice offense should bear its comment."

2 This principle of morals has been confirmed by the experience of
mankind until it has almost become proverbial ; it is asserted by Dr.
Johnson in the following passage : " Suspicion, however necessary it may
be to our safe passage through ways beset on all sides, by fraud and,
malice, has been always considered, when it exceeds the common meas
ures, as a token of depravity and corruption ; and a Greek writer of
sentences has laid down, as a standing maxim, that he who believes not
another on his oath, knows himself to be perjured.

"We can form our opinions of that which we know not, only by plac
ing it in comparison with some thing that we know : whoever, therefore,

312 CICERO ON THE

But now let this third year be distinguished by the same
purity which marked the two former, and even by more
caution and diligence. Let your ears be such as are
suppoesd to hear what they listen to, but not into which
things may be falsely and dishonestly whispered for the sake
of gain, without being the receptacles of false and malicious
whispers, insinuations, and complaints. Suffer not your seal
to be a common chattel, but as your very self ; let it not be
the tool of another's pleasure, but the evidence of your own.
Let your pursuivant keep the rank which our ancestors
assigned to him, who did not rashly intrust that office to any
but freed men, over whom they exercised pretty much the
same command, as they did over their slaves, and that not as
a post of advantage but of labor and service. Let the lictor
be the agent of your lenity rather than of his own, and let
his ax and his rods be stronger evidences of his post than of
his power.

is overrun with suspicion, and detects artifice and stratagem in every
proposal, must either have learned by experience or observation the
wickedness of mankind, and been taught to avoid fraud by having often
suffered or seen treachery, or he must derive his judgment from the con
sciousness of his own disposition, and impute to others the same inclina
tions, which he feels predominant in himself.

"When therefore a young man, not distinguished by vigor of intel
lect, comes into the world full of scruples and diffidence, makes a bargain
with many provisional limitations ; hesitates in his answer to a common
question lest more should be intended than he can immediately discover ;
has a long reach in detecting the projects of his acquaintance ; considers
every caress as an act of hypocrisy, and feels neither gratitude nor affec
tion from the tenderness of his friends, because he believes no one to
have any real tenderness, but for himself; whatever expectations this
early sagacity may raise of his future eminence or riches, I can seldom
ferbear to consider him as a wretch incapable of generosity or benevo
lence ; as a villain early completed beyond the need of common opportu
nities and gradual temptations.

" Suspicion is indeed a temper so uneasy and restless, that it is very
justly appointed the concomitant of guilt. It is said, that no torture is
equal to the inhibition of sleep long continued ; a pain to which the state
of that man bears a very exact analogy, who dares never give rest to
his vigilance and circumspection, but considers himself as surrounded by
secret foes, and fears to intrust his children or his friend with the secret
that throbs in his breast and the anxieties that break into his face. To
avoid, at this expense, those evils to which easiness and friendship might
have exposed him, is surely to buy safety at too dear a rate, and in the
language of the Roman satirist, to save life by losing all for which a wise
man would live."— Rambler, No. 79.

DUTIES OF A MAGISTRATE. 313

In short, let all the province be sensible how dearly you
prize the welfare, the children, the fame, and the fortunes of all
who are under your command. Let it be notorious that you
will be equally the enemy of the man who gives, as of him
who receives a present, if you shall know it ; for no one will
give them, when it shall be clearly perceived that those who
pretend to have the greatest interest with you are accustomed
to obtain nothing from you.

Yet this address, of mine to you is not because I would
have you treat your dependents in a too severe or suspicious
manner. For if any of them for two years have never fallen
under suspicion of avarice, as I hear Ceesius, Chaerippus,
and Labeo, have done, and I believe it because I know them
well ; there is nothing which I should not think may be
most properly committed to them and to men of their
character. But if there is a man from whom you have
already received offense, or of whom you have known any
thing ill, never intrust any thing to him, nor commit to him
any portion of your reputation. But if within your province
you have got any person who has been thoroughly admitted
to your intimacy, and who is unknown to me, consider how far
you ought to trust him. Not but that there may be many
worthy men among the provincials ; but this it is lawful to
hope, but dangerous to determine. For every man's nature is
concealed with many folds of disguise, and covered as it were
with various vails. His nature, his brows, his eyes, and very
often his countenance are deceitful, and his speed is most com
monly a lie.

Wherefore, out of that class of men who, being devoted to
the love of money, are destitute of all those qualities from
which we can not be separated, where can you find one who
will sincerely love you, a mere stranger to them, and not pre
tend to do so for the sake of advantage ? It would seem to me
very extraordinary, especially as those very men pay seldom
any regard to any private man, while they are all invariably
attached themselves to the praetors. However, if among such
kind of men you should find one (for the thing is not impos
sible), who loves you more than he does his own interest, eagerly
enroll such a man in the number of your friends ; hut if you do
perceive this, there will be no class in your acquaintance more
to be avoided: because they know all the arts of getting

14

314 CICEKO ON THE

money, they do nothing but for money, and they are indifferent
about the opinion of any man with whom they are not to con
tinue to live.

Certain connections too with the Greeks themselves are to be
most carefully guarded against, except with a very few men,
who, if any, are worthy of ancient Greece. For truly, in
general they are deceitful and treacherous, and trained up by
perpetual subjection, in the art of sycophancy.1 All of these I
would say should be liberally treated, and jhe best of them re
ceived into hospitality and friendship ; but too close intimacies
with them are not very safe, for though they dare not oppose
our wishes, yet they are jealous not only of our countrymen
but even of their own. Though they dare not fly in the face
of a Roman magistrate, yet at the bottom they hate not only
us but their own countrymen.

Now, as in matters of this kind, as I wish to be cautious
and diligent (though I fear I may seem too rigid), what do
you think is my feeling with respect to slaves, whom we
ought to keep under the strictest command in all places,
but especially in the provinces ? Concerning this class many
directions might be given ; but the shortest and plainest
method I can recommend is, that in all your Asiatic
journeys, they should behave as if you were traveling over
the Appian way, and that they think there is not the least
difference whether they were entering Tralles2 or Formise.3
But if any of your slaves should distinguish himself by his
fidelity, let him be employed in your domestic and private
affairs, but not let him have the smallest thing to do with
an}r public concern, or any thing relating to the business of
your government. For though many things may properly

1 Juvenal alludes to the same characteristic vice of the Greeks in the
following passages : —

Quae mine divitibus gens acceptissima nostris,
Et quos prsecipue fugiam, properabo fateri ;
Nee pudor obstabit. Non possum ferre, Quirites,
Grsecam urbem, quamvis quota portion fsecis AchaeL
* * * « *

Natio comoeda est : rides ? majore cachinno
Concutitur : flet si lachrymas conspexit amici.
Noc dolet. Igniculum brumse si tempore poscas,
A*ccipit endromidem : si dixeris, sestuo, sudat.

2 A city in Caria under the government of Quintus.

3 A cicy of Campania in Italy.

DUTIES OF A MAGISTRATE. 315

be intrusted to our faithful slaves, yet for the sake of avoiding
observation and animadversion, they ought not to be committed
to them.

But I know not how my discourse has deviated into a style
of dictation, though that was not my intention at the com
mencement. For why should I dictate to a man not inferior
to me in knowledge, especially in all matters of this kind,
and even superior in experience ? but I thought it would be
very agreeable, if my sanction were added to what you are
doing. Wherefore let these be the foundations of your
dignity. In the first place, your own integrity and modera
tion ; in the next place, the modest behavior of all who are
about you, joined to a very cautious and circumspect choice
of your acquaintance, whether they be provincials or Greeks ;
and the orderly and consistent regulation of your household.
All which particulars are commendable in our piivate and
daily concerns, but they must appear divine amid such
great power, such depraved manners, and so corrupting a
province.

Such a plan, and such regulations, will be sufficient to sup
port that severity in all your resolutions, and all your decrees,
which you exercised in those matters, and by which, to my
great pleasure, we have incurred some enmities, unless, indeed,
you imagine that I was influenced by the complaints of an in
dividual — I know not whom — of the name of Paconius, who
is not even a Greek, but is some Mysian, or rather Phrygian ;
or that I was moved by the vociferations of Tuscenius, that
frantic, mean-spirited wretch, from whose polluted maw you,
with the utmost equity, rescued a dishonest prey. Wherefore
we could not easily maintain those and the other instances of
severity which you have practiced in that province, without the
most perfect integrity.

There should therefore be the utmost rigor in your ad
ministration of justice, so that it should not be affected by
favor, but maintained without variation.1 It is, however,

1 So impressed was Godwin with the supreme importance of uniformi
ty and certainty in the awards and inflictions of the law, that he thus
treats of the subject of pardons as interfering with this certainty. "The
very word pardon, to a reflecting mind, is fraught with absurdity. "What
is the rule that ought in all cases to direct my conduct ? What then is
clemency ? It can be nothing but the pitiable egotism of him who im
agines he can do some thing better than justice." Is it right that I

316 CICERO ON THE

of no great consequence that justice should be impartially and
diligently administered by yourself, unless the same is done
by those to whom you have delegated some part of your
functions. Now it appears to me that in the government of
Asia there is no great variety of business, but that it is chiefly
employed in judicial administration, the method of which
especially in provinces is simple. Constancy and gravity
must indeed be exercise, which may be not only above
partiality, but even above the suspicion of it. To this
must be added affability in hearing, calmness in determining,
and carefulness in discussing the case and making restitution.
By reason of these qualities, Octavius1 lately became most

should suffer constraint for a certain offense ? The reasonableness of my
suffering must be founded in its consonance with the general welfare.
He, therefore, that pardons me, iniquitously prefers the supposed interest
of an individual, and utterly neglects what he owes to the whole. He
bestows that which I ought not to receive, and which he has no right to
give. Is it right, on the contrary, that I should not undergo the suffer
ing m question ? Will he by rescuing me from suffering, confer a benefit
on me, and inflict no injury on others ? He will then be a notorious
delinquent if he allow me to suffer. There is indeed a considerable de
fect in this last supposition. If, while he benefits me, he inflicts no
injury upon others, he is infallibly performing a public service. If I
suffered in the arbitrary manner which the supposition includes, the pub
lic would sustain an unquestionable injury in the injustice that was per
petrated : and yet the man who prevents this serious injustice, has been
accustomed to arrogate to himself the attribute of clement, and the ap
parently sublime, but in reality tyrannical, name of forgiveness. For if
he do, man has been here described instead of glory ; he ought to take
shame to himself as an enemy to human kind. If every action, and
especially every action in which the happiness of a rational being is con
cerned, be susceptible of a certain rule, mere caprice must be in all cases
excluded. There can be no action which, if I neglect, I shall have dis
charged my duty, and if I perform, I shall be entitled to applause. From
the manner in which pardons are dispensed, inevitably flows the uncer
tainty of punishment. It is too evident that punishment is inflicted by
no certain rules, and, therefore, creates no uniformity of expectation.
Uniformity of treatment, and constancy of expectation, form the solo
basis of a genuine morality. In a just form of society, this would never
go beyond the sober expression of those sentiments of approbation or
disapprobation, with which different modes of conduct inevitably impress
us But if we at present exceed this line, it is surely an execrable re
finement of injustice that should exhibit the perpetual menace of suffer
ing unaccompanied with any certain rule for telling its application." —
Godwin's Political Justice, book vii. ch. ix.

1 Octavius. He was father to Augustus Cassar, and had been about
this time governor of Macedonia.

DUTIES OP A MAGISTRATE.

popular, before whom, for the first time, the lictor had
nothing to do, and the crier had nothing to say ; for every
one spoke when he pleased and as long as he pleased. In
this matter he might, perhaps, seem too compliant, were it not
that this gentleness was the warrant of his inflexibility. The
men of Sylla's party were compelled to restore what they had
seized by force and terror. Such of the magistrates as had
made unjust decisions were obliged themselves to submit, as
private men, to similar inflictions. Now this severity on his
part would have seemed cruel, had it not been tempered
with many ingredients of humanity.

If this gentleness is agreeable at Eome, where there is so
much arrogance, such unbounded liberty, such unrestrained
licentiousness, where there are such numerous magistracies,
so many auxiliaries, so great force, and so much authority in
the senate, how agreeable must the affability of a praetor be
in Asia, where so great a number of our countrymen and
allies, where so many cities and so many states, are observant
of one man's nod ? where they have no resource, no tribunal,
no senate, and no assembly of the people ? It belongs there
fore to the character of a great man, and of a man as well
humane by nature, as improved by learning and the study
of the noblest arts, so to conduct himself in the use of such
great power as that no other authority should be desired by
those over whom he rules.

The great Cyrus is represented by Xenophon (not accord
ing to the truth of history, but as the ideal model of right
government)1, whose extreme gravity is combined by that
philosopher with singular sweetness of manners ; which books
our countryman, Scipio Africanus, was accustomed, and not
without reason, always to have in his hands, for in them no
duty of active, well-tempered government has been passed
over ; and if Cyrus, who could never be reduced to a private
station, so diligently cultivated those duties, what ought they
to be held by those to whom power has been given on con
dition of their surrendering it, and given by those laws to
which they must be amenable ?

Now it seems to me that all the considerations of those
who rule over others should be referred to this object, that
those who are under their government should be as happy a?
1 See note, p. 25T.

318 CICERO ON THE

possible ; and by constant report, and the acknowledgment
of all, it has become no honor that this both is, and
ever has been your most settled principle ever since you
first landed in Asia; nay, that it is the duty, not only
of those who govern the allies and the subjects of Rome, but
of those who have the care of slaves and dumb cattle, to con
tribute to the interests and welfare of all committed to their
charge. In this respect I perceive it is universally allowed
that the utmost diligence has been used by you ; that no new
debts have been contracted by the states ; that you have dis
charged many old ones with which many of the cities were
burdened and oppressed ; that you have repaired many ruin
ous and almost abandoned towns; among others Samus
the capital of Ionia, and Halicarnassus the capital of Caria;
that there are no seditions, no discords in your towns ; that
it has been seen to by you that the states are governed by
the councils of the best men ; that you have suppressed
rapine in Mysia, and bloodshed in many places; that peace
has been established all over your province ; that you have
chased thieves and robbers, not only from the highways and
country places, but from towns and temples, where they
were more numerous and more dangerous ; that calumny,
that most cruel minister to the avarice of prsetors, has been
removed from the reputation, the fortunes, and the retire
ment of the rich ; that the funds and taxas of the states are
equally borne by all who inhabit the borders of those states ;
that access to you is most easy ; that your ears are open to
the complaints of all men ; that the poor and the helpless
always find admittance, not only to your public audiences
and tribunals, but even to your house and your bed-chamber ;
and that in short, in the whole of your government there is
nothing that is spiteful, nothing that is merciless, but that it
is filled with clemency, gentleness, and humanity.

How important was that public sendee you performed
when you freed Asia from the unjust and burdensome tax
imposed upon them by the aediles, with great odium to us ;
for if one man of quality publicly complains that you have
deprived him of almost £100,000, by ordering that money
should not be levied for public exhibitions, what vast sums
must have been raised, had the custom continued for raising
money in the name of all who exhibited public shows at

DUTIES OF A MAGISTKATE. 319

Rome. I stifled these complaints of our people, by a method
which, however it may be regarded in Asia, is highly ap
plauded at Rome ; for when the states of my province had
voted a sum of money for erecting a temple and a monument
to me, and when on account of my great deserts and your
extraordinary services, they did it voluntarily and cheer
fully, and though the law has expressly provided, " That
governors may receive money for erecting a temple or a
monument," nay, though the money which was granted was
not to perish, but to be laid out upon the ornaments of a
temple, that was to appear to future times, not more a pres
ent to me than to the people of Rome, and to the immortal
gods ; and yet I thought that the offer should be rejected
though warranted by dignity, by law, and by the good will
of those who made it ; and this I did for this reason, among
others, that those magistrates to whom such sums are not
due, nor permitted by law, might bear (the refusal of them)
with a more resigned temper.

Apply yourself, therefore, with all your spirit and all your
zeal, to that plan which you have already practiced, that of
loving the people which your country has committed and en
trusted to your faithful care ; protecting them in every way,
and desiring that they should be as happy as possible.1

But if fortune had set you over the Africans, the
Spaniards, or the Gauls, those fierce and barbarous nations,
yet still it would have been the dictate of your humanity to
study their interests, and to have promoted their advantage
and welfare. But when we govern a set of men, among
whom civilization not only exists, but from whom it may be
supposed even to have extended to others, surely we are
most especially bound to repay them what we have received
from them ; for I am not ashamed to acknowledge, especially

1 "The only legitimate object of political institution, is the advantage
of individuals. All that can not be brought home to them, national
wealth, prosperity, and glory, can be advantageous only to those self-
interested impostors who from the earliest accounts of time have con
founded the understandings of mankind, the more securely to sink them
in debasement and misery. The desire to gain a more extensive terri
tory, to conquer or to hold in awe our neighboring states, to surpass them
in arts or arms, is a desire founded in prejudice and error. Usurped
authority is a spurious and unsubstantial medium of happiness ; security
and peace are more to be desired than a national splendor that should
terrify the world," — Godwin's Political Justice, book v. chap. 22.

320 CICERO ON THE

in my position in life, and with the deeds which I have per
formed, which can involve no suspicion of indolence or un
steadiness ; that I have arrived at all those accomplishments
to which I have attained, by means of those studies and arts
which have been handed down to us in the remains and sys
tems of Greece. Therefore, besides the common faith
which we owe to all mankind, we seem to be especially in
debted to this race of men,1 so that we should be desirous of
offering to those, by whose precepts we have been instructed,
that which we learned from them. Plato, that philosopher,
so distinguished by his genius and learning, thought that
states would then at length be happy, when either wise and
learned men should begin to be their rulers, or when their
governors should apply themselves wholly to the study of
learning and wisdom ; that is, he thought that this union of
power and wisdom would constitute the safety of states.
This may possibly, at some time, be the case of our whole
empire, but at present it is the case of one province, that an
individual possesses the supreme power in it, who has de
voted, from his childhood, the largest amount of time and
study to the pursuit of learning, of virtue, and humanity.

Take care, therefore, my Quintus, that this year which is
added to your government, prove to be a year that is added
to the welfare of Asia ; and because Asia has been more
successful in detaining you than I was in procuring your
recall, do you behave so as that my regret may receive some
mitigation from the joy of the province. For if you have so
indefatigably applied yourself to deserve greater honors
than perhaps ever man did, you ought to exert much greater
diligence in maintaining them. I have already given you my
sentiments concerning that kind of honors. I have always
been of opinion, that if they are commonly accessible they
are worthless ; if bestowed to serve a purpose, they are con
temptible ; but if they are offered (as has been done) as a
tribute to your merits, I think you can not bestow too much
pains upon their preservation.

As, therefore, you are invested with the highest command
1 Horace tacitly acknowledges the same obligations to Greek litera
ture:

" Vos exemplaria Graeca
Nocturna versate manu, versate diurna."

Epist. ad Pisones, v. 268, 269.

DUTIES OF A MAGISTRATE. 321

and power in those cities where you sue your virtues are
consecrated and deified, think, in all that you urrange, and
decree, and perform, what you owe to such opinions on the
part of mankind, to such flattering decisions, and such ex
alted honors. The result of this will be that you will pro
vide for all, that you will remedy the ills of your subjects,
provide for their welfare, and desire to be designated and
regarded as the parent of Asia.

To this zeal and assiduity the farmers of the revenue offer
a great obstruction. If we oppose them we shall separate
from ourselves and from the state an order of men who have
the highest claims upon us, and who by me were attached
to the service of our government. If, on the other hand, we
should indulge them in every respect, we must suffer those
to be utterly ruined, whose welfare, nay, whose convenience,
we are bound to consult. This, if we will view the case
aright, is the sole difficulty in all your administration. For
to practice self-control, to subdue all inordinate desires, to
regulate your family, to practice the impartial administra
tion of justice, to show yourself ready to acquaint yourself
with cases, and to admit and grant a hearing to individuals,
are things more glorious than difficult, for they consist not
in any laborious application, but in the bent of the mind and
of the affections.

We learned how much bitterness of feeling this matter of
the farmers of the revenue occasioned to our allies from our
own fellow-countrymen ; who, when the tolls of Italy were
lately abolished, complained not so much of the heaviness of
the tolls as of the insolence of the toll-gatherers, from which
I am sensible of what must befall our allies in remote coun
tries, when I have heard such complaints from our fellow-
citizens in Italy. It seems to require a superhuman virtue,
that is, one like your own, in this situation of things, to give
satisfaction to the farmers of the public revenue, especially
when the taxes have been disadvantageously contracted for,
and at the same time not to suffer our allies to be ruined.

But, in the first place, as to the Greeks, the hardship
which they most bitterly complain of, that of their being
taxed, is, in my opinion, no great hardship, because by their
own constitutions, apart from the government of the Roman
people, they were in the same condition with their own con-

14*

322 CIOEEO ON THE

sent. As to the name of a farmer of the revenue, the Greeks
ought not to hold it in such contempt, because, without their
assistanoe, they could not have paid the tax indiscriminately
imposed upon them by Sylla. Now that the Greeks are fully
as severe as our farmers are, in the collection of the public
revenue, may be concluded from this, that the Caunians1
some time ago, who inhabit the islands that were annexed
by Sylla to the division of Rhodes, petitioned the senate that
they might pay their taxes to us, rather than to the Rho-
dians. They therefore who always have been taxed, ought
not to hold the name of a tax-gatherer with horror, nor
ought they to despise him, without whom they can not pay
their taxes ; nor ought they who have petitioned for him to
reject him. The Asiatics ought at the same time to reflect,
that were they not under our government, no calamity of
foreign war and domestic discussion would ever have been
absent from them. And since this government can not be
supported "without taxes, they ought cheerfully to purchase
for themselves, with some part of their incomes, an uninter
rupted peace and tranquillity. When once they come to en
dure with patience the profession and name of a farmer of
the revenue, your prudent measures and conduct will be able
to make other annoyances seem lighter to them. They will
come, not to reflect so much in making their compositions
upon the Censorian Law, but rather upon the advantage of
settling the business, and upon their freedom from molesta
tion. You can likewise continue what you have always so
admirably done, to put them in mind how much dignity
there is in the office of a farmer of the revenue, and how
much we owe to that order. So that, apart from force and
the influence of authority, and of the fasces, you will bring
the publicans into favor and credit with the Greeks. You
may even entreat those whom you have so highly obliged,
and who owe their all to you, that by their compliance they
will suffer us to cherish and continue those intimate con
nections that subsist between us and the farmers of the
revenue.

But why do I exhort you to those measures which you are
not only able to do of your own accord without the in-

1 The Caunians were subjects of the government of Quintus, inhabit
ing n part of Caria in Asia Minor.

DUTIES OF A MAGISTRATE. 323

structions of any one, but which in a great degree you
already have happily executed. For the most honorable
and considerable bodies of our empire never cease to "pay me
their daily thanks, which are the more agreeable, because
the Greeks do the same. Now it is a matter of great
difficulty to bring together in good will those whose in
terests, whose advantages, and whose natures, I had almost
said, are repugnant. But what I have here written, I have
written not for your instruction (for wisdom such as yours
stands in need of no man's instructions), but the recording of
your merits delights me as I write. In this letter, how
ever, I have been longer than I intended or supposed that I
should be.

There is one thing which I shall not cease to recommend
to you, for so far as in me lies I will not suffer an exception
to your praises. All who come from that region, while they
praise your virtue, your integrity, and your humanity, even in
their highest commendations make one exception, your
anger ; a vice, which in private and every day life seems to
be the defect of an inconstant and weak mind ; but when a
passionate behavior is joined to sovereign power, nothing
can be more monstrous.1 I shall not, however, endeavor to

1 " Anger is so uneasy a guest in the heart, that he may be said to be
born unhappy who is of a rough and choleric disposition. The moralists
have defined it to be a desire of revenge for some injury offered. Men
of hot and heady tempers are eagerly desirous of vengeance, the very
moment they apprehend themselves injured ; whereas the cool and sedate
watch proper opportunities to return grief for grief to their enemies. By
this means it often happens that the choleric inflicts disproportionate
punishments upon slight and sometimes imaginary offenses, but the tem
perately revengeful, have leisure to weigh the merits of the case, and
thereby either to smother their secret resentments or to seek proper and
adequate reparations for the damages they have sustained. "Weak minds
are apt to speak well of the man of fury, because when the storm is over
he is full of sorrow and repentance, but the truth is, he is apt to commit
such ravages during his madness, that when he comes to himself, he be
comes tame, then for the same reason that he ran wild before, ' only to
give himself ease,' and is a friend only to himself in both extremities.
Men of this unhappy make, more frequently than any others, expect
that their friends should bear with their infirmities. Then* friends should
in return desire them to correct their infirmities. The common excuses
that they can not help it, that it was soon over, that they harbor no
malice in their hearts, are arguments for pardoning a bull or a mastiff,
but shall never reconcile me to an intellectual savage. Why indeed
should any one imagine, that persona independent upon, him should

324 CICERO ON THE

give you the sentiments of the best instructed men, concern
ing the passion of anger, both because I am unwilling that
this letter should be too long, and because you can easily
learn them from the writings of many men. Still I do not
think that one thing which is proper to a letter should be
neglected, namely, that he to whom we write should be
made acquainted with those things of which he is ignorant.
Now I am told almost by every body, that when you are
free from anger, nothing can be more agreeable than you
are ; but when the impudence or perverseness of another has
excited you, you are under such violent agitations that your
kindly disposition is sought for in vain.

As, therefore, a certain desire of glory as well as interest,
and fortune, have concurred to lead us into that walk of life,
by which we become the perpetual subject of conversation
among mankind, we ought to do and to strive all we can
that no conspicuous vice may be said to attach to us.1 I do

venture into his society who hath not yet so far subdued his boiling
blood, but that he is ready to do some thing the next minute which he
can never repair, and hath nothing to plead in his own behalf but that
he is apt to do mischief as fast as he can 1 Such a man may be feared,
he may be pitied, but he can not be loved." — Dr, Johnson, Rambler,
No. 129.

1 " It is methinks an unreasonable thing, that heroic virtue should, as
it seems to be at present, be confined to a certain order of men and be
attainable by none but those whom fortune has elevated to the most
conspicuous stations. I would have every thing to be esteemed as heroic
which is great and uncommon in the circumstances of the man who per
forms it. Thus there would be no virtue in human life, which every one
of the species would not have a pretense to arrive at, and an ardency to
exert. Since fortune is not in our power, let us be as little as possible
in hers. Why should it be necessary that a man should be rich to be
generous ? If we measured by the quality and not the quantity of things,
the particulars which accompany an action is what should denominate it
mean or great.

" The highest station of human life is to be attained by each man that
pretends to it ; for every man can be as valiant, as generous, as wise,
and as merciful, as the faculties and opportunities which he has from
Heaven and fortune will permit. He that can say to himself, I do as
much good, and am as virtuous as my most earnest endeavors will allow
me, whatever is his station in the world, is to himself possessed of the
highest honor.

"If ambition is not thus turned, it is no other than a continual suc
cession of anxiety and vexation. But when it has this cast, it invigo
rates the mind and the consciousness of its own worth is a reward, which
it is not in the power of envy, reproach, or detraction, to take from it.

DUTIES OF A MAGISTRATE. 325

not now insist on this consideration, that in human nature at
large, and especially at our time of life, it is very difficult for
a man to alter his disposition, or suddenly to pluck out a fail
ing that has settled into a habit. But my advice to you is
this, if you can not altogether avoid this, but passion takes
possession of your mind before reason can take precautions
that it should not invade it, you should undergo a course of
preparation, and be every day meditating that resistance
must be offered to anger, and the more violently it affects
the mind, the more diligently must you restrain your tongue ;
which merit sometimes appears to me not less than that of
never being angry at all 5 because the latter virtue is not
solely the proof of self-respect, but sometimes of a lethargic
temperament. But when you are touched with anger, to
control both your temper and your language, even to hold
your peace, and to keep under command all excitement and
irritation of mind ; these are the properties, if not of consum
mate wisdom, yet of extraordinaay understanding.

They say that in this respect you are become much more
pliable and gentle. None of your violent emotions of passion
are stated to me ; none of your imprecating expressions,
and opprobrious behavior, all which are as repugnant to
authority and dignity as they are reproachful to learning
and good breeding. For if angry passions are implacable,
the utmost cruelty is involved, and if placable,1 an excess of
weakness ; which, however, as a comparison of evils, is prefer
able to the cruelty.

Thus the seat of solid honor is in a man's own bosom, and no one can
want support who is in possession of an honest conscience, but he who
would suffer the reproaches of it for other greatness." — The Tatler, No.
202.

1 " Another form of a passionate disposition arising indeed from the
same cause, is that which involves the next error which I have stated
with respect to resentment — the disproportion of the anger and the of
fense. He who does not pause even to weigh the circumstances, can
not be supposed to pause to measure the extent of injury. He feels that
he is injured, and all his anger bursts out instantly on the offender. It
is this disproportion, indeed, which is the chief evil of what is commonly
termed passion. Some cause of slight displeasure there may be even
where anger in its violence would be immoral and absurd. Yet such
is the infirmity of our nature, that it is often no slight triumph over our
weakness to forgive a trifle with as much magnanimity as that with
which we have forgiven greater injuries." — Dr. Brown's Moral Phi
losophy, Lect. 63.

326 CICERO ON THE

That the first year of your government gave rise to a
great deal of talk upon this subject might be owing to your un
expectedly encountering that injustice, avarice, and insolence
of individuals, which seemed intolerable. The second year,
however, was more gentle ; because both habit and reason,
and, if I mistake not, my letters rendered you more mild
and patient. Now your third year ought to admit of such
amendment, as that no person may be able to utter the
slightest reproach.

And on this subject I address you in the terms neither of
exhortation nor precept, but of brotherly entreaty, that you
employ your whole abilities, care, and concern, in accumu
lating praise from all quarters.1 If our situation were one
of mediocrity as to public conversation and discourse,
nothing pre-eminent would be required of you, nothing
beyond the ordinary conduct of others. But by reason of
the splendor and magnitude of the concerns in which we
are engaged, unless we derive the highest glory from these
functions, we seem scarcely capable of avoiding the deepest
condemnation. We are so situated, that while all good men
are our friends, they also require and expect from us,
all application and virtue ; in the mean while, all the repro
bate part of mankind, because with them we have declared
eternal war, seem to be satisfied with the slightest ground for
condemning us.

Wherefore, since such a theater as Asia has been assigned
you for the display of your virtues, a theater most celebrated
by fame, most ample in extent, most distinguished by dis
cernment, but naturally so noisy that its expressions and
intimations reach even to Rome, I pray you to strive and
labor to appear, not only adequate to these conditions, but
by your merits to have surpassed them all ; and as fortune
has fixed my share of the public administration in Rome, and

1 " Make not the consequence of virtue the ends thereof. Be not
beneficent for a name or cymbal of applause, nor exact and just in com
merce for the advantages of trust and credit, which attend the reputation
of true and punctual dealing. For these rewards, though unsought for,
plain virtue will bring with her. To have other objects in good actions
sours laudable performances, which must have deeper roots, motives, and
instigations, to give them the stamp of virtues." — Sir Thomas Browne's
Christian Morals, Book i. chap. 10.

DUTIES OF A MAGISTRATE. 327

yours in Asia, while I yield to none in my conduct, do you
excel all in yours.

At the same time reflect that we are not now laboring
for a glory that is in expectation and reversion ; but we are
struggling for what has been attained, a glory that we are
not so much to covet as to preserve. Indeed, had I any
interest that is distinct from yours, I could desire nothing
more than that situation of life which has actually been
assigned to me ; but as the case is, that unless all your words
and actions are answerable to my conduct here, I shall think
that I have gained nothing by all. those mighty toils and
dangers in all which you have been a sharer. Now if you
were my chief fellow laborer in working my way to this
splendid reputation, you ought to labor beyond others that
I may maintain it.

You are not to regard the opinion and the judgment of
those who are now living, but also of those who shall here
after exist, whose verdict will be the more just as it will be
free from detraction and malevolence. In the next place,
you are to reflect, that you are not seeking glory for yourself
alone ; and, if you were, you would not be indifferent about
it, especially as you have thought proper to consecrate the
memory of your name by the noblest memorials, but you are
to share it with me, and it is to descend to our posterity.
You are therefore to beware, lest if you should be careless
you should seem not only to have neglected your own
interests, but to have acted grudgingly even to your de
scendants.

And these things are said, not that my words may seem to
have aroused you when slumbering, but that they may en
courage you in your career ; for you will continually act as
you have acted, so that all may praise your equity, your
moderation, your inflexibility, and your integrity. But
through my excessive affection for you, I am possessed with
an insatiable passion for your glory. In the mean while I
am of opinion, that as you must be now as well acquainted
with Asia as any man is with his own house ; 1 and as so

1 This would seem to have been a proverbial simile. Juvenal has the
same : —

" Nota magis nulli domus est qua, quam mihi lucus
Martis," etc., Sat. I. v. 7.

328 DUTIES OF A MAGISTRATE.

great experience has been added to your great wisdom, there
is nothing that pertains to glory of which you are not fully
sensible, and which does not daily occur to your mind,
without the exhortation of any. But I who, when I read
your letters, think I hear you, and when I write to you
think I converse with you, am more delighted with your
letters the longer they are, and for the same reason I myself
also am more prolix in writing.

In conclusion I exhort and entreat you, that just as good
poets and skillful actors are wont to do, so you will redouble
your attention at this the latter part and conclusion of your
business and office ; that this last year of your government,
like the last act of a play, may appear the most elaborate and
perfect. This you will most easily do, if you think that I,
whom individually you have endeavored to please more than
all the world besides, am ever present with you, and take an
interest in all that you do or say. Lastly, I entreat you, as
you value my welfare, and that of all your friends, that you
will most carefully attend to your health.

INDEX.

ACADEMICS little differing from the
Peripatetics, 2, 6, 8 ; have a right
to treat about duties, 2 ; how dif
fering from the Skeptics, and why
they dispute against everything,
79 ; are not tied to a set of opin
ions, 120; formerly the same
with the Peripatetics, 121.

Accusing, how far allowable, 96.

Acilius, the historian, 166.

Acknowledgment, a sufficient re
turn for a kindness, 106.

Acropolis, its entrance, 102.

Action gives a true value to virtue,
13 ; to take place of speculation,
13, 74, 76; not to be ventured
on, if we doubt of its honesty,
18 ; should be free from rashness,
etc., 52 ; three rules to be ob
served for keeping decorum in
our actions, 68 ; order and reg
ularity to be observed in our
actions, 69 ; these depend upon
time and place, 69 ; good actions
ill applied become bad ones, 103.

Actors choose the parts fittest for
their humors, 57 ; respect mod
esty, 67.

Addison, Joseph, quoted, 142, 254,
255, 258, 281, 300.

Admiration, how moved in men,
90, 91.

Advantages tempt men to be
rogues, 131.

Advice of friends to be asked in
prosperity, 47 ; of experienced
men, in doubt, 70 ; rules about
taking this advice, 72.

Advocates may plead for what is
not really true, 97.

^Ediles, who, and their magnifi
cence, 100.

Affability wins people's love, 95.

Affectation odious, 64.

Africanus, his saying that men
grown proud, etc., 47 ; his retire
ment and saying that he was
never less idle, etc., 115; Afric.
the younger razes Carthage, and
Numantia, 39; sonofPaulus, 60;
not to be corrupted by money, 109.

Agamemnon sacrificed his daugh
ter, 156.

Agreement between the several
orders the support of a state, 151.

Agriculture commended, 73 ; its va
rious pleasures described, 240, etc.

Ajax, his character, 57.

Alexander Pherseus the tyrant, 86.

Alexander the Great, often guilty
of great vices, 47 ; reproved by
his father for giving money, 99.

Ambition, a great cause of in
justice, 16, 34; is generally in
men of the greatest souls, ib. ; is
contrary to true courage, 34, 36 ;
robs a man of his liberty, 36 ; is
destructive to a state, 45, 149.

Anger against adversaries to be
avoided, 46 ; especially in pun
ishing, ib. ; also in common dis
course ; in chiding, and in
quarrels, 66, 319.

Annicerian philosophers, 166.

Antipater the stoic, 112, 135.

Antonius Marcus, the subject of
.Padox V., 277; subservient to
Cleopatra, 280.

Antoninus quoted, 13.

Appelles's Venus, 117.

Applause, the desire of it to be
avoided, 34, 36.

Aquillius's Formulas, 138.

Arates the Sicyonian, 110.

330

INDEX.

Archytas, saying ofj 206, 235.

Aristippus, 71, 166.

Aristo, 6.

Aristotle, neglected eloquence, 2 ;
his opinion about shows to the
people, eta, 100 ; makes honesty
far outweigh all other goods, 128 ;
quoted, 7.

Armies of little use abroad, with
out prudence at home, etc., 39.

Assent not to be given nastily, 12.

Athens, a famous university, 1, 116.

Athenians make a cruel edict, 132 ;
forsake their city for fear of the
Persians, ib. ; reject a dishonest
proposal, etc., 134.

Atilius, L., 171.

Avarice, one great cause of injustice,
15, 16 1 ; a sign of a narrow and
sordid spirit, 36 ; magistrates
should be free 'from suspicion of
it, 108 ; is destructive to a state,
109.

Augustine quoted, 17.

BACON, LORD, quoted, 113, 174,
188, 204, 228, 240, 265, 280,
282, 289, 296.

Bardylis the Illyrian, 91.

Bargains should be made at a
word, 139.

Beauty of two sorts, 63 ; how to
be gotten, ib.

Becoming; see Decency.

Benefits ; how we should judge of
their value, 27 ; done either by
our money or industry, 98; re
late either to the republic, or
to individuals, 104, etc.; upon
whom best bestowed, 105, 106.

Bentham, Jeremy, quoted, 5.

Bias of Priene, saying of, 265.

Body should be inured to labor, 40.
The care nature has taken in its
fabric 62.

Bounty ; see Liberality.

Boys not aUowed all sorts of plays,
53.

Bragging very unbecoming, 67.

Bribery in magistrates, the ruin of
a republic, 108, 109 ; laws made
against it by the Romans, 109.

Browne, Sir Thomas, quoted, 6, 35,

36, 83, 96, 172, 176, 207, 247,

253, 257, 261, 277, 278, 321.
Brown, Dr. T., 7, 10, 149, 150, 161,

170, 176, 208, 212, 256, 259, 321.
Brutes, how differing from men, 9 ;

we often talk of their courage,

but not justice, etc., 28.
Brutus deposed Collatinus, 131;

decrees the augur, 172.
Building ; its extent and object, 68.
Butler, Bishop, quoted, 4, 51, 299.
Buyers should not use arts to bate

down the prices, 139.

C.ESAR, brother of Catulus, a face
tious man, 65.

Cassar broke through the most
sacred ties for the sake of em
pire, 16; robbed some that he
might be generous to others, 26 ;
was murdered for his tyranny,
triumphs over Marseilles, etc.,
loved villainy, though he got
nothing by it, 112; makes him
self king of the Romans, etc.,
150.

Callicratidas, too careful of his own
honor, 43 ; a lover of simplicity,
55.

Calling ; see Life.

Callipho and Dinomachus join pleas
ure and virtue, 167.

Ka'&r/Kov, what, 7.

Cannius's bargain, 137.

Carriage toward all men to be
taken care of, 15, 63.

Carthaginians treacherous, 23.

Cato Censorius, his letter to Po-
pilius, 22 ; caused the third
Carthaginian war, 40 ; his ap
ophthegms, 53 ; his answer
about managing an estate, 113.

Cato, father to Uticensis, his de
termination of a case, 140.

Cato Uticensis's genius, 56; too
headstrong in standing up for
the interest of the republic, 152.

Kar6p</>«//a, what, 7.

Catulus not inferior to Pompey,
39; Catuli counted the best
speaker, 65.

INDEX.

331

Chiding sometimes necessary, 66;
rules to be observed in it, 67.

Children naturaDy loved, 10.

Chrysippus's excellent saying, 131.

Cicero's service to his countrymen
by writing, 1 ; assumes to him
self the virtue of an orator, etc.,
ib. ; his prudent management of
the republic, 112; got his prefer
ments by all the votes, 102 ; be
takes himself to retirement, 115 ;
designed to have gone to Athens,
168 ; quoted, 3, 254, 397, 308.

Oimbers and Celtibers, 23.

Cimon of Athens's hospitality, 104.

Circumstances of men to be re
garded in giving, 15, 103 ; make
that not to be a crime, which
usually is one, 120.

Cities, in taking them, nothing to
to be done cruelly, etc., 43 ; the
great use of them, 81 ; why at
first built, 107, 109.

Citizens' duties, 62.

Clarendon, Lord, quoted, 214.

Claudius Centumalus, 140.

Clemency, how far laudable, 45.

Cleombrotus beaten by Epaminon-
das, 43.

Clodius proved to be amadman, 275.

Clothes, only health to be regarded
in them, 54 ; moderation to be
observed in the fineness of them,
64.

Clownishness to be avoided, 62, 64.

Cockman, Dr. quoted, 156.

Common ; all things at first were
so, 14 ; what things are common
to all, 25.

Company ; a man would be weary
of his life without it, 74 ; to keep
company with good and wise
men recommends young people,
94.

Conceal, how differing from not to
tell, 135; what it is, 136.

Concord, a pillar of any state, 109.

Confidence ; see Trust.

Constantly what it is, 35.

Corinth razed by the Romans, 21,
133.

Coriolanus, 186.

Correction; see Chiding, Punish
ment.

Coruncanius, T., 187.
Covetousness ; see Avarice.

Countenance to be kept always the
same, without dejection, 47.

Counterfeit; nothing can be last
ing that is such, 92.

Country claims a share in us, 15 ;
the love we have for it swallows
up all other loves, 32; their
wickedness who injure it, ib.;
every one that is able ought to
serve it, 35 ; should be preferred
even before parents, 32, 76, 153.

Courage is a virtue contending for
honesty, 34 ; an enemy to treach
ery, etc., ib. ; to desire of ap
plause, 35; consists in two things,
ib. ; is obtained by the mind, not
the body, 40 ; in war, recom
mends young men, 93 ; teaches
us to fear nothing, etc., 158;
nothing profitable that is con
trary to it, ib.

Craft ; see Cunning.

Crassus, Marc., his saying about
riches, 15 ; made heir by a ffe-lse
will, 144 ; a bad man, 145.

Crassus, Luc., an orator, 65 ; got
honor by an accusation, 94.

Crassus the wealthy, sedile, 95.

Cratippus, who he was, 179.

Cruelty most contrary to nature, 91.

Cunning far from true wisdom, 33,
80, 143 ; the great mischief of
it, ib. ; doth not excuse from
perjury, but rather aggravates it,
165.

Curius, Marcus, 187, 242 ; Manius,
282, 285.

Custom and civil constitutions to
be followed, 70 ; some may act
against them, and others not, 71.

Cynics argue against modesty, 63 ;
to be wholly rejected, 72.

Cyrenaic philosophers, 166.

Cyrus, anecdote of, 244 ; dying ad
dress of, 257.

DANCING- in the streets scandalous,
145, 156,

332

INDEX.

Danger, how far to be undertaken.
43 ; we should endanger our
selves rather than the public, ib.

Death not terrible to the great and
good, 271.

Debts forgiven, etc., 109, 110 ; gov
ernors should hinder people from
running into debt, 112.

Deceit frees a man from being
bound by his promise, 18.

Decency (or gracefulness) observed
by a man only, 9 ; inseparable
from honesty, 48 ; is seen in all
the parts of honesty, ib. ; two
sorts of it universal and particu
lar, 49; draws tho approbation
of all, 50 ; relates both to body
and mind, ib. ; nothing decent
that is contrary to a man's
genius, 51 ; decency of living
according to universal nature,
50, 52 ; according to each man's
particular one, 55 ; according to
one's place or station in the
world, 58 ; is seen in our words,
actions, etc., 62 ; in our eyes,
hands, etc., 63.

Decorum of the poets, 49.

Defending more laudable than to
accuse, 96 ; to defend a guilty
person lawful, 97.

Define ; the subject of a discourse
ought to be defined at the be
ginning, 7.

Deliberation, five heads of it, 8 ; in
some cases sinful, 120, 129.

Demet. Phalereus, who he was, 2 ;
blames Pericles, 102.

Demetrius forsaken by the Mace
donians, 86.

Demosthenes, a hearer of Plato, 2 ;
at what age he began his study,
94.

Desire of riches, etc. ; see Avarice,
Ambition.

Despising different from having a
bad opinion of, 91.

Dicaearchus's book about tho De
struction of Men, 82.

Difficult subjects ; see Study. Diffi
culty makes a thing more honor
able, 34.

Diogenes and Antipater dispute,
134.

Dion taught by Plato, 75.

Dionysius, the Sicilian tyrant, 85.

Direct a wandering traveler, 28.

Discourse: variety in men's ways
of it, 55 ; not to be dressed up
with Greek expressions, 56 ; of
two sorts, 65, 95 ; common dis
course should be easy, etc., ib. ;
free from passion, etc., 67 ; should
be agreeable to the subject we
discourse upon, 65, 69.

Disputing of two sorts, by reason
and by force, 21.

Dissimulation should be excluded,
138.

Dolus mains, what, 137 ; punished
by the civil laws, 139.

Donations to the people, when al
lowable, 101, 102.

Doubt : we should do nothing of
which we doubt whether it is
honest or not, 18; in cases of
doubt ask experienced men's ad
vice, 70.

Dunlop, John, quoted, 307.

Dreams evince the immortality of
the soul, 257 ; not prophetic,
289.

Duties : the whole subject of them
consists of two parts, 7 ; middle
and perfect ones, ib., 119, 120;
incumbent on us in every part
of our lives, 3 ; greater ones to
take place before less, 18 ; duty
to parents adorns a young man,
94.

Dymond, Jonathan, quoted, 24, 44,
66, 93, 97, 128, 154, 179.

EARTH, the, its diminutiveness in
the universe, 292 ; too wide to
be pervaded by fame, 296.

Edmonds, C. R., quoted, 226.

Education of youth a laudable em
ployment, 73 ; makes many use
ful men, etc., 75.

Edwards, Jonathan, quoted, 4.

Effeminacy to be avoided, 143 ;
see Niceness. Its signification,
54.

INDEX,

333

Eloquence preferable to acute
thinking, 75 ; its great force,
etc., 80; its downfall in Rome,
105 ; gives one opportunities of
obliging many, 106.

Empedocles, 182.

Enemies, by the old Romans called
strangers, 22 ; justice to be kept
toward them, 20, 23, 160; dif
ference of carriage to be observ
ed toward them, 23 ; none to be
reckoned enemies, but who take
up arms against the state, 44.

Ennius, quoted, 16, 28.

Epicurus ruins all virtue, 3, 166;
makes happiness consist in pleas
ure, 167 ; endeavors to explain
this away, but in vain, ib.

Estate, how to be gotten, bettered,
etc., 43, 112, 113 ; it is a scandal
to ruin it by neglect, 103 ; what
the best that can be left to a
son, 60.

Evenness of temper, a part of cou
rage, 47.

Evils: the least to be chosen, 115,
158, 160; those of body and
fortune less than those of the
soul, 122.

Euripides, quoted, 149, 163.

Et»ra£i'a, what it signifies, 68.

Exacting to be avoided in dealings
with others, 103.

Exercise requisite to make men
perfect, 32.

Extraordinary things move admira
tion, 90.

FABIUS LABEO'S (Q.) trick, 19;
Fab. Maximus's wise delaying,
43 ; his subtilty and cunning, 54.

Fabricius's justice, 24, 119, 151.

Faith the foundation of justice, 15 ;
set up in the capitol next to
Jupiter, 160; to be kept with
enemies, 161 ; see Oaths.

Fame, its transiency, 298.

Fannius, C. and Scsevola and C.
Lelius, interlocutor in the dia
logue on Friendship, 171, etc.

Fathers often followed in course of
life by their sons, 58 ; rules to

be observed in imitating them,
66; whether to be accused by
their sons, should they plot
against the state, 153.

Fear, one cause of injustice, 15 ;
promises made through fear not
binding, 19 ; an improper way
of getting men to be of our side,
and the ill consequences of it,
85, 87.

Fecial law of the Romans, 22, 163.

Fides derived by the Stoics, 15 ; ex
fide bona, a form in law, 142.

Fighting, when laudable, 41.

Fimbria judge in a case, 146.

Flatterers to be avoided, 47 ; estates
got by flattery, scandalous, 145.

Flattery condemned, 211.

Force and fraud, the two ways of
injuring men, the latter more
odious, 32; a courageous man
can not be forced, 165.

Forms in judgment, 138; the gen
eral form or rule, 122.

Fortune must yield to nature, 60 ;
her influence upon the good or
ill success of actions, 83 ; blind
and blinds her votaries, 193;
every man master of his own,
279; seditions will never be
wanting while men hope to
make their fortunes by them,
88 ; to be transported with good
or ill fortune shows a mean
spirit, 61.

Foster, John, quoted, 40, 279, 295.

Freedom, wherein it consists, 35.

Fretfulness upon unseasonable
visits, etc., to be avoided, 46.

Friends necessary for all, 88; all
common among friends, 28 ; the
counsel of friends should be
asked, 47 ; men are born for
their friends, as well as them
selves, ib.; corrections, counsel,
etc., due among friends, 32 ; how
much may be done for the sake
or a friend, 132; Damon and
Phinthias two friends, ib. ; close
ness of union between friends,
31.

Friendship makes many become

334

INDEX.

one, 31; is cemented by likeness
of manners, ib. ; to be broken off
by little and little, 60 ; of C.
Laelius and P. Scipio, 170, 214;
superior to relationship, 180 ;
exists between but few, ib. ; a
union of sentiment, 180 ; adorns
prosperity, and solaces adversity,
181 ; of Orestes and Py lades,
182 ; founded on virtue, 184,
185, 204 ; and sincerity, 197 ;
subverted by avarice and ambi
tion, 186; does not excuse in
justice, 188, 189 ; the greatest of
blessings, 190; this universally
admitted, 204 ; care to be em
ployed in contracting it, 195 ;
old friendship better than new,
198; description of, 201; ruined
by flattery, 208.

GAIT should not be too slow, etc., 63.

Generals of the Romans delivered
to their enemies, 163.

Genius; see Nature.

Geometricians' method, 127.

Genteel jests, 53; carriage, 63.

Glory made up of three ingredients,
89; Cicero wrote two books
about it, 88 ; must be used with
discretion, and what the shortest
cut to it, 92, 94; not to be gotten
by counterfeit, 92 ; but by just
ice, 93 ; can not be durable un
less founded upon virtue, 107 ;
inconsistent with wickedness,
151.

Gods; duties to them to be per
formed first, 76; how their favor
may be procured, 80; they never
hurt, ib. ; are never angry, 160.

Godwin, William, quoted, 24, 120,
126, 153, 160, 292, 313.

Good fortune, it is the sign of a
low spirit to be transported with
it, 61.

Good men, so called from justice,
13, 91; who, 139, 145; very
hard to be found, ib. ; it is al
ways profitable to be one, ib. ;
good men desire honesty, not
secresy, 130.

Good-will ; see Love.

Government of a state like the
office of a guardian, 44 ; the
several duties of those that gov
ern, 108.

Gownsmen as useful as soldiers,
39, 40.

Gracchus, father of the two Gracchi,
93; his sons justly slain, ib.;
ruined by their leveling princi-
ciples, 110; Tiberius, 187, 188.

Gratidianus, 141.

Gratitude a most necessary duty,
in which we should imitate fruit
ful fields, 27; all people hate
one that is not grateful, 103.

Greatness of soul natural to man,
• 11; what it appears in, 10; in
clines men to ambition, 34; is
often too hot, 27 ; usually made
most account of in the world,
33; necessary for statesmen
more than philosophers, 36; its
description, and how it differs
from greatness of understanding,
41 ; seen even in a retired life,
48 ; is savageness if not accom
panied with justice, 75; see
Courage.

Greek and Latin to be joined, 1 ;
to bring Greek into discourse
ridiculous, 56; Greeks deceitful
and treacherous, 311.

Grotius, quoted, 14, 22.

Guardian, the, quoted, 124.

Guthrie, Win., quoted, 13, 36, 87,
289, 296, 300, 305.

Guilty persons may sometimes be
defended, 97.

Gyge's ring, 19, 130, 147.

Hall, Robert, quoted, 29, 30, 31,

62, 177, 184, 203, 215, 261, 302.
Hannibal cruel, 21: sends ten to

Rome after the fight at Cannae,

23, 166.
Hastiness, the passion should not

through haste outrun reason, 52.
Hate able to ruin the greatest

power, 85, 87.
Haughtiness in prosperity to be

avoided, 47.

INDEX.

335

Health, how to be preserved, 112.

Heaven ; a certain place in it as
signed to patriots, 290; magni
tude of, 292 ; what constitutes a
cycle of the heavens, 298.

Hecaton the Rhodian, 139, 152.

Help ; not to help the injured, if
we can, is injustice, 15.

Hercules sees too ways, 59 ; is
placed among the gods, 123.

Herillus exploded, 6.

Herodotus the historian, 92.

Hesiod's rule, 27.

Hire ; the worst means of winning
men to our side, 84.

Honestum, whence it results, 11 ;
laudable in itself, ib. ; would
make the world in love with it,
could it be seen, ib. ; shows it
self by its own brightness, 18;
entitles a man to our liberality,
26, 27, 106; more especially de
serves our study, 80 ; naturally
pleases men, 89 ; is the same
with profit, 118, 128, etc. ; hon
est man, who, 146.

Honor ; the desire of it tempts men
to injustice, 147.

Horace, quoted, 7, 123, 238, 266, I
316.

Hortensius, sedile, 101 ; uses a false |
will, 144.

Hospitality to be kept by great
men, 68 ; praised deservedly by
Theophrastus, 104.

Hostis, its signification among the
old Romans, 22.

Hot counsels and designs preferred
by some, 42.

House ; of what sort becomes a
great man, 68 ; the master should
be an honor to his house, ib.

Humility requisite in prosperity, 47.

Hume, David, quoted, 9, 25, 56,
65, 120, 123, 143, 248.

Hunting ; a manly recreation, 53.

Hypocrisy should be banished out
of the world, 138; repugnant to
friendship, 209.

JESTING, in what kind and degree
allowable, 53.

Immortality of the soul asserted,
174, 175; its return to heaven
the most ready in the case of the
virtuous and the just, 176, 302;
if the doctrine is false, death ia
no evil, 177, 262; argued from
the uncompounded nature of the
soul, 256 ; from the phenomena
of sleep, 257 ; held by the Italian
philosophers, 255 ; aspired after
by the greatest men, 260 ; glori
ous hopes connected with it,
brings about the re-union of the
good in heaven, 261.

Improvising; the practice of the
Greeks, 178.

Individuals ; nothing to be done
for them that is a damage to the
public, 107 ; should not have
interests separate from the pub
lic, 124.

Inheritance ; the best a father can
leave to his son, ia the fame of
his virtues, 60.

Injuries ; two ways of doing them,
25 ; injuring others most con
trary to nature, 122.

Injustice of two sorts, and the
causes of each, 15-17 ; the
greatest, which is done under
the mask of honesty, 25.

Innocent persons, never to be ac
cused, 97.

Interest draws ono way, and hon
esty another, 8 ; no base thing
can be any man's interest, 146 ;
should be measured by justice,
150.

Isocrates, contrary to Aristotle, 2.

JOHNSON", Dr. Samuel, quoted, 34,
35, 46. 58, 61, 206, 209, 219,
232, 246, 249, 266, 269, 284,
286, 296, 322, 369.

Judges' duty, 97.

Justice, the most splendid virtue,
13 ; makes men be called good,
»&., 91 ; the duties of it, 13 ; is
altered upon an alteration of
the circumstances, 18 ; to be
kept toward those that have in
jured us, and enemies, 21; to-

336

INDEX.

ward the meanest, such as
slaves, 25 ; is the only way of
obtaining our ends, 80; makes
men trust us more than pru
dence, 89 ; no man just who is
afraid of death, etc., 91 ; justice
gets us all the three ingredients
of glory, ib. ; is necessary for all
men, even pirates, ib.; kings
were at first chosen, and laws
made for the sake of it, 92 ; no
credit can be lasting that is not
built upon it, 106 ; is the queen
of all virtues, 124; nothing prof
itable that is contrary to it, 152,
etc.

Juvenal, quoted, 210, 220, 279,
311, 334.

KINDNESSES should be done to
honest rather than great men,
106 ; not to be done to one, by
injuring another, ib. ; see Bene
fits.

Kings formerly chosen for their
justice, 92 ; no faith in case of a
kingdom, 16 ; justice violated for
a kingdom, 150; many treacher
ous, and but few faithful to
kings, ib.

Knowledge, how desired, etc., by
men, 10, 12 ; must give place to
action, 74; is a barren accom
plishment, without justice, 75 ;
that of honesty best, 78, 80, 118.

Knavery to be avoided, 80 ; few
actions wholly free from it, 139.
See Dolus mains.

LACEDEMONIANS, Plato's observ
ation of them, 33 ; ruined by
Epaminondas, 43 ; forsaken by
their allies, 86 ; murder their
king Agis, etc., 110.

Lselius, C., chief speaker in the
dialogue on Friendship, 172, etc.

Laetorius's law, 138.

Lamartine, A. de, quoted, 298.

Language ; see Discourse.

Largi, of two sorts, 100.

Latin to be joined with Greek, 1.

Laws, a malicious interpretation

of them a means of roguery, 19 ;
punish offenders according to
justice, 46 ; why first invented,
92 ; use the same language to
all conditions, ib. ; the knowl
edge of them creditable at Rome,
104; give a man opportunities
of obliging, ib. ; the end and de
sign of them, 122; how they
root out frauds, 142 ; the law of
nations different from that of
particular cities, ib. ; Roman law
taken from nature, and its ex
cellence, ib. ; law of nature taken
in all men, 124; laW'Suits to bo
avoided, 103.

Learners, how best corrected, 70.

Learning, who may be allowed to
give themselves up to the study
of it, 36; is a pleasure, not a
labor, 116.

Letters, how to be expressed, 65.

Leveling estates destructive, etc.,
107.

Liberality, three cautions to be ob
served in it, 25 ; must be govern
ed by justice, ib. ; to give to one
what is taken from another not
liberality, ib. ; to whom it should
be most shown, 26, 32, 104, 106,
moves the people's love, 98 ; con
sists in doing kindnesses either
by money or labor ; the latter
preferable, 15 ; has got no bot
tom, ib. ; how the liberal dis
pose of their money, 16.

Liberty ought to be most of all
contended for, 35; wherein it
consists, ib.; bites deeper after
it has been chained, 85.

Life of retirement, and that of pub
lic business compared, 37 ; seve
ral men take several ways of
life, 58 ; the difficulty of choosing
a way of life ; and what chiefly
to be regarded in it, 58, 59 ;
should not easily be change d,
60 ; how such change should be
made, ib.

Little indecencies especially to be
avoided, 70 ; in the least things
we observe what is becoming, ib.

INDEX.

337

Locke, John, quoted, 14.

Love of themselves and offspring
in all animals, 10 ; love a stronger
motive to obedience than fear,
85, 86 ; how to be gained of the
people, 89 ; by what we are to
judge of men's love to us, 27;
we should do most for those by
whom we are loved most, ib.;
general love, and that of friend
ship, how far necessary, 86.

Lucullus magnificent in building,
68.

Lycurgus the lawgiver of Sparta,
39.

Lying abominable, 72, 137; should
be banished from all commerce,
138 ; is inconsistent with the
character of a good man, 148.

Lysander enlarged the Spartan em
pire, 38; crafty, 55; the Ephori
banished, 110.

Lysis, master of Epaminondas, 75.

MACEDONIANS desert Demetrius,
86 ; Paulus took the treasure of
Macedon, 109.

Mackintosh, Sir James, quoted, 3,
4, 7, 8, 29, 71.

Macknish, .Dr. 288.

Magistrates' duties, 43, 44, 60, 108 ;
responsible for the acts of their
subordinates, 309 ; should prac
tice rigor and impartiality, 313;
and discountenance calumny,
314.

Mamercus put by the consulship,
101.

Man, how different from brutes, 9,
53 ; not born for himself alone,
14 ; all things on earth made for
him, say the Stoics, ib. ; we
should show a respect for all
men, 50 ; and desire to be
thought well of by them, ib. ;
some are men in name only, 53 ;
men may be allowed some orna
ments ; but must avoid niceness,
63 ; naturally love society, 74,
75; do the most good and harm
to one another, 80-82 ; to pro
cure their love the chief of virtue,
15

82; by what means they are
drawn to be for us, 84; every
man should help any other be
cause he is a man, 124.
Manilius, 176, 286.
Manlius, Luc. and Titus, 164, 165.
Marius made consul, etc., 147;

Marius Gratidianus, 141, 147.
Marriage the closest bond of society,

29.
Medes chose the justest men kings,

92.
Melmoth, William, quoted, 216,

221, 225, 234, 250, 256, 291.
Memmius took Corinth, etc., 109.
Merchandise, how far creditable,

73.

Merchant of corn's case, 134, 136.
Merits of the receiver to be con
sidered in giving ; of four sorts,
25.
Metellus accused by Marius ; and

Africanus's dissent, 45.
Metrodorus's opinion about happi
ness, 166.
Milo got great honor, 101.
Milton, John, quoted, 16, 106, 160,

179.

Mind of man always in motion, 13 ;
consists in reason and appetite,
52, 64; decency to be kept in its
motions, 63 ; filthiness of the
mind more loathsome than of the
body, 160.
Moderation, what, 69; is best in

most things, 64.

Modesty, bashfulness, etc., 48 ; the
duties of them different from
those of justice, 50 ; forbids to
do or name some things, 63 ; the
Cynics argue against it, ib.'
nothing virtuous or becoming
without it, 72 ; sets off elo
quence, especially in young men,
95.

Money ; see Hire, Riches, etc. ;
those tried with fire, who have
withstood its temptations, 91 ;
how best laid out, 100, 102, 103 ;
bad money should not be put
away, 154.
Montaigne, quoted, 162.

338

INDEX.

Moral duties, a most useful and

comprehensive subject, 2, 116;

who have a right to discourse

about them, 2.

Motion, philosophy of, 300, etc.
Motives drawing men to favor us,

etc., 83.
Musicians discover the least faults

in music, 10.

N ASIC A murdered T. Gracchus, 39.

Nature should be taken for a guide,
and then we can not err, 49,
218; pleasures, etc., unworthy
man's nature, 53 • variety of
men's particular natures, 54 ;
every one should follow his own
nature, and how far, 55 ; nothing
becoming that is contrary to it,
ib. ; its great influence on our
actions, ib. ; lias greater sway
than fortune, GO ; directs to
modesty, 62 ; is both a human
and divine law, 122; enjoins
each man to help another, 124;
always desires what is becom
ing, 128; to live according to
nature the Stoical chief good,
118.

Nature, the best guide, 1*79 ; the
mother of all things, 267.

Necessity not the motive to society
among men, 75.

Niceness in carriage, 62 ; dress,
etc., 63.

Nola and Naples quarrel about
their bounds, 19.

Nan putaram, a fool's shift, 41.

Numa Pompilius, 266.

OATHS given to soldiers, 22 ; what
is to be considered in oaths, 24,
161 ; I am not tied by oath to a
deceiver, 159, 161 ; oath is a re
ligious affirmation, etc., ib. ; the
sacredness of them among the
old Romans, 164 ; not eluded by
shifts, 24, 165.

Obscene jesting, 53 ; talking dis
covers bad inclinations, etc., 63.

Obscure subjects to be neglected,
13.

Offense ; a fear of giving offense, a
cause of injustice, 16 ; a cause of
mismanagement in civil and mili
tary affairs, 43 ; it is the duty of
modesty not to give offense, 51 ,
nothing to be done that may of
fend the eyes and ears, 63.

Old age to be reverenced, 60, 72;
the duties of it, 61 ; the, of Cicero
beguiled by writing a treatise on
that subject, 217 ; tolerable to
men of regulated minds, 219; of
Quintus Maximus, 221 ; of Plato,
Isocrates, and Gorgias, 222; of
Ennius, 223 ; four causes why it
is thought miserable, 223 ; has
its appropriate employments,
224; does not necessarily im
pair memory, 225, nor intellect,
226, nor studies, 227 ; does not
require the strength of youth,
228, 232 ; mellows the voice,
229 ; its vigor preserved by
temperance, 232 ; can enjoy
modern conviviality, 237, 238;
the last act of a play, 262.

Opinion of the world concerning us
not to be neglected, 50.

Oratory and philosophy to be join
ed, 1.

Order in our words and actions, 69.

Orestes gives a dinner to the people,
101.

Op/aal, 82.

Other men's affairs appear small to
us as things at a distance, 17 ;
we should mind by others what
is becoming, 70 ; we can soonest
see faults in others, ib.

Ovid, quoted, 50, 225, 265.

Own : every one to be kept in the
enjoyment of his own, 109; own
interest how far to be regarded,
122, 131.

Pain racks and torments us, 90;

not the greatest evil, 160.
Pains should be proportioned to

what we are about, 68.
Painters set their works out to be

viewed, 70.

INDEX.

339

Paley, Dr., quoted, 5, 14, 19, 24,
32, 46, 71, 95, 97, 271.

Panaetiua, 7 ; left his work about
duties unfinished, 117, 127.

Paradoxes,- why so called, 263.

Parts; men have several parts to
be acted, 54, 58 ; parts of the
body well fitted by nature, 62.

Pascal, Blaise, quoted, 12.

Passion ; injuries done in a passion
less heinous than in cold blood,
16 ; should be governed by rea
son, 52, 64, 68, 82 ; disturb both
body and mind, 52 ; to be shun
ned in discourse, 67 ; nothing
can be like that is done in a
passion, 66.

Pausanias, Spartan general, 38.

Paulus had all the riches of Mace-
don, 109.

Paulus ^Emilius appears in vision
to his son Scipio Africanus the
younger, 291.

Pericles's answer to Sophocles, 69 ;
is blamed by Palerius, 102.

People caressed, etc., 100.

Peripatetics differ little from the
Academics, 2, 121 ; 'have a right
to treat about duties, 2 ; require
a mediocrity, and say anger was
given us to good purposes, 46 ;
theirs a most noble and ancient
philosophy, 79.

Perjury, when a man is guilty of
it, 162.

Phaeton, 156.

Phalaris, 86, 125.

Philip of Macedon, above his son
in good-nature, 47 ; advises his
son to speak kindly to the people,
95 ; rebukes him for giving
them money, 99.

Philip's harangues in his tribune-
ship, 107 ; his ill counsel, 151.

Philosophers, unjust in minding
only their studies, 17; relinquish
the public, ib. ; their method of
rooting out frauds, 141 ; none
may assume that name without
giving rules about duty, 2 ; their
study commended, 78 ; philos
ophy a comfort in affliction, 77 ;

a rich and plentiful soil, 116 ; the
meaning of the word, 78.

Phulus, 176.

Pirates ought to have no faith kept
with them, 162 ; can not be
without justice, 91.

Place, its influence on our actions,
69.

Plato might have made an excel
lent orator, 2 ; his saying, that
men are not born for themselves
only, 14 ; his mistake about the
philosophers, 17 ; his two rules
about government, 44 ; his say
ing about ambition, ib. ; his ex
cellent saying about prudence,
33 ; his fable of Gyges, 130 ;
quoted, 11, 51; his arguments
for the pre-existence of the
human soul, 256.

Plays and recreations, how far al
lowable, 53 ; play at even and
odd, etc., 147.

Players choose the parts fittest for
them, 57 ; their respect to mod
esty, 63.

Pleasures of body beneath a man,
54.

Pleasures are alluring mistresses,
90 ; are contrary to honesty,
168 ; may serve to give a relish
to actions, ib. ; should not be re
garded in eating, etc., 54; con
sist in virtue, 268.

Plutarch, quoted, 106.

Poetical decorum, 49; poets set
their works out to be viewed, 70.

Polybius the historian, 165.

Pompey Sextus, a geometrician,
13.

Pompey the Great ; his party un
successful, 94 ; his magnificent
shows to the people, 101.

Pomponius the tribune, 164.

Pontius, C., the Samnite, 108.

Pope Alexander, quoted, 230.

Popilius, a Roman commander, 22.

Popular expressions to be used, 90.

Posterity, impartiality of their ver
dict, 323.

Power ; the desire of it draws men
to injustice, 149.

340

INDEX,

Practice necessary to perfect a man
in virtue, 33.

Precepts insufficient without exer
cise, ib.

Present things more acceptable for
a time, 102.

Pride in prosperity to be avoided,
47.

Private men should be kept in their
estates, 38.

Procreation ; the love of it natural
to all animals, 9.

Prodigal, who, 100.

Profit, the same with honesty, 80,
121, 128, 134; moves all men,
128, 159 , the appearance of it
makes men act contrary to duty,
133; ought to be rejected, ib.;
every thing honest profitable,
and every thing profitable hon
est, 128.

Promises not always binding, 18,
155, 156.

Property, its original, 14.

Prudence ; the duties resulting
from, 12 ; consists in the knowl
edge of truth, and is most natu
ral to man, ib. ; of but little
worth without justice, 74 ; differ
ent from craft, 33, 80, 143 ; a
definition of it, 74 ; makes men
confide in us, if joined, etc., 89.

Public officers should be free from
passion, etc., 36, 45, 319; should
see that what they undertake
be honest, 44 ; remember Plato's
two rules, ib. ; a description of a
good one, 44, 313 ; should be
courteous, affable, etc., ib. ; do
the bravest actions, 47 ; should
guard their eyes as well as hands,
69, 307; not to be resisted, 72;
public and private life compared,
37.

Puffendorf, quoted, 137.

Punishment ; rules to be observed
about them, 46.

Pyrrho can give no rules about
duty, 6, 79.

Pyrrhus, his speech upon giving
up the prisoners, 23 ; a deserter
offers to poison him, 24, 151.

Pythagoras, 31. 54; maxims of.

234.
Pythias, a banker, 137.

RALEIGH, SIR WALTER, quoted,
280. '

Rashness in giving up our assent,
to be avoided, 12, 79 ; in our ac
tions, 52.

Reason ought to be the governing
faculty in man, 52.

Rebukes in friendship, 32. Seo
Chiding.

Regularity ; see Uniformity.

Regulus taken by the Carthagini
ans, etc., 158, 252, etc. ; not
really unhappy, 269.

Relations should be considered be
fore other people, 25, 27.

Republic ; Cicero wrote six Lcol;a
about it, 102.

Respect should bo had for all men,
51 ; especially those we converse
with, 63, 64, 67.

Retired people do very noble things,
47. Seo Life.

Revenge must be kept within
bounds, 20.

Rhetoricians omit some subjects,
64.

Riches, why desired, 15 ; neither
to be kept too close nor too open,
99 ; the best fruit of them, 100 ;
are too much respected, 107 ; to
be got not for ourselves alone,
139; are not profitable, if ac
companied with infamy, 151 ;
the baggage of virtue, 265; of no
value in themselves, 286 ; a com
parative term, 284. See Avarice,
Liberality.

Romans famous for courage, 33 ;
their ancient justice and kind
ness to allies when changed, 86 ;
ruined by tyranny and oppres
sion, 87.

Romulus did wrong in killing Re
mus, 131 ; praised, 266; the sun
eclipsed at his death, 297.

Roscius Ainerinus, defended by
Cicero, 98.

Rousseau, J. J., quoted, 122.

INDEX,

341

Rule ; the desire of it natural to
men, 10 ; general rule or meas
ure, 123,

Hutilius had the name of an hon
est man, etc., 94; scholar of
Pansetius, 117.

SAL AMIS famous for a victory, 33,

Saguntines, not parricides, 274.

Salmacis, 33.

Scsevola gives more than was asked
for an estate, 139; Pontifex
Max., 142, 169, 176.

Scipio, Africanus, his history and
glorious end, 173, 174.

Secrecy, nothing to be committed
out of hopes of it, 129, 130.

Self-love prevents men from seeing
their duty, 16 ; nature allows a
man to love himself first, 131,
122 ; but not to injure others for
the sake of self, 122, 124.

Seller, bound to tell the faults of
his goods, 134, 135, etc. ; should
use no arts to enhance their
price, 139.

Seneca, quoted, 50, 218, 251.

Serious things to be handled seri
ously, 65, 69.

Shakespeare, Wm., quoted, 210,
279, 294, 309.

Shows to the people how far al
lowable, 100, 102.

Sincerity agreeable to man's na
ture, 10.

Singing openly a great rudeness,
69.

Skeptics ; their opinion, 79.

Slaves, how to be dealt with, 25,
86 ; tricks in selling them pun
ished, 143 ; not to be trusted
with public concerns, 312.

Smith, Adam, quoted, 21, 67, 136,
192, 196.

Society: the principles, sorts, and
degrees of it, 28, 29 ; nothing
that men should be more con
cerned for, 74 ; man by nature
sociable, 75 ; necessity not the
motive to society, ib. ; duties of
it of several degrees, in what
order to be performed, 74; uni

versal society, of what nature,
134.

Socrates facetious and droll, 54;
of extraordinary virtues, 72; his
shortest cut to glory, 92; used
to curse those that separate pro
fit and honesty, 118 ; pronounc
ed by the oracle the wisest of
men, 172, 173, 255 ; remark of,
244.

Solon, Athenian lawgiver, 38; his
craft, 54.

Sons should live as becomes tho
name of their ansestors, 39 ; do
not bathe with their fathers, 63.

2o£>/a, 74.

Sophocles the tragedian, 69, 238.

Soul's functions more noble than
the body's, 94; pre-existed, 256;
an emanation of the divine es
sence, 255 ; immortal (see Im
mortality), nothing more excel
lent and divine, 268, 300 ; souls
of the wicked hover round the
earth for ages after death, 303.

South, Dr., quoted, 61, 267, 268,
270, 271, 280.

Spectator, the, quoted, 220, 229,
230, 241, 260.

Speech. See Discourse.

Spheres, the description of, 293 ;
music of, 294.

State, how to be supported, 85, 87,
152.

Stewart, Dugald, quoted, 6, 174,
206.

Styles of eloquence and philosophy
to be both cultivated, 1.

Stoics ; Cicero follows them in this
book, 6 ; great admirers of deri
vations, 15; their chief good,
etc., 118; aim at no embellish
ment, 263.

Strangers' duties in a place, 62;
a difference to be made between*
them, 72; should not be forbid
a city, 133.

Study not to be spent upon obscure
and difficult subjects, 13; the
end of it. ib. ; should give place
to action, 13, 74, 76.

Suicide forbidden, 250, 292.

342

INDEX.

Subject of a discourse must be first
explained, 7 ; different subjects
require different ways of expres
sion, 90.

Subjects of common discourse, 65.

Sulpitius, an astronomer, 13, 169 ;
an orator, accuses Norbanus, 95.

Sumumjus, suma injuria, 19.

Swearing upon one's conscience,
146 ; my tongue swore, but, etc.,
163.

Syla, Lucius's inhuman victory, 87.

Sylla, Pub., kinsman to the former,
f&.

TAKING away what is another's, a
breach of justice, 14; most con
trary to nature, 122, 124; taking
away from one and giving to
another no liberality, 25, no
* good man will take from another
to enrich himself, 145.

Talk; see Discourse.

Tatler, the, quoted, 320.

Taylor, Isaac, quoted, 295, 301.

Taxes, the people not to be burden
ed witli them, 108 ; tax-gatherers
hated, 72, 317.

Ten men sent by Hannibal to
Home, etc., 24, 165.

Temperance, 12; the duties of it
must not always give place to
those of justice, 76 ; nothing prof
itable that is contrary to it, 167.

Tenths paid to the gods, 101.

Terence's Chromes, 17 ; Andria,
207; Eunuch, 209.

Thebe, wife of tyrant Alexander, 86.

Themistocles, 38 ; his opinion about
marrying a daughter, 106 ; his
proposal to the Athenians, 133 ;
illustrations, 189 ; sayings of,
220.

Theophrastus, 2 ; his book about
riches, 100 ; praises hospitality,
104.

Theseus's wish granted by Nep
tune, 18, 156.

Thieves can not submit without
justice, 91.

Thinking; the end of it, 13; a
good man will not think what

he is ashamed should be known,

145.

Thracians branded, 86.
Time and place make actions good

or bad, 69.
Trades, which creditable, etc., 72;

tradesmen should avoid lying,

ib.; be just, 91.
Treachery, etc., contrary to reason,

142.

Truce for thirty days, 19.
Trust; how men are induced to

trust us, 89 ; trust not always to

be restored, 156.
Truth, the love of it natural to

man, 10, 55; two faults in search

of it to be avoided, 12.
Tyrants generally come to a bad

end, 86; to kill them counted

glorious among the Romans, 120 ;

are enemies of human society,

125 ; lead miserable lives, 149.

ULYSSES of a temper to undergo
any thing, 57 ; would have avoid
ed the war, 157.

Unable ; those who are unable to
exercise some virtues, should
take the more care to get others,
60.

Ungrateful men hated by all, 103.

Uniformity, of life, whence it arises,
55, 69; is most becoming, ib.

Unjust ; those who spend their
lives in contemplation are so,
17; and those who mind no
body's business but their own, ib.

Usurers hated, 72 ; Gate's opinion
of usury, 113.

VICTUALS ; pleasure should not be
regarded in it, 54.

Vine, cultivation of, 241.

Yiriathus, the Lusitanian robber,
11.

Virgil, quoted, 11, 270, 290.

Virtue alone, or at least chiefly
desirable, 5, 12; virtues all con
nected, 12, 89; forces us to lovo
the persons that possess it, 31,
89 ; its principal office to pro
cure the love of men, 82 ; con-

INDEX.

343

sists in three things, ib. ; moves
men's admiration, 89; when it
appears with greatest splendor,
ib.; scorns affinity with pleas
ure, 167; the only good, 264;
conformable to reason, 273; all
virtues equal, ib. See Honesty.

Voice should be clear and har
monious, etc., 65.

Voluntary : no true virtue, that is
not so, 17.

WANT ; we should be most liberal
to those that want most, etc., 27,
103.

"War; laws of it to be observed,
21, 161 ; may be undertaken,
but it must be for the sake of
peace, 21, 41 ; the management
of it less glorious than civil pru
dence, 38 ; courage in it recom
mends a young man, 93.

"Ways, two, of pleasure and virtue,
59.

Whewell, Dr., quoted, 218.

"Wicked ; to be so, never profitable,
139; wicked men slaves, 280.

Will forged of Minutius Basilius,
etc., 144.

Wing of horse, 94.

Wisdom, which the chief, 74; the
definition and commendation of
it, 78 ; to be often with wise
men recommends a young man,
94; a wise man not wise for
himself, good for nothing, 139.

Work-shop can have nothing gen
teel in it, 72.

World ; we should endeavor to be
well thought of by all the world,
50.

XANTIPPUS the Lacedaemonian,
158.

Xenocrates the severest philoso
pher, 55.

Xenophon's (Economics, translated
by Cicero, 113.

YOUNG men ; the duties of them»
60 ; how they should mako
themselves taken notice of in
the world, 93 ; are not envied,
but rather encouraged, ib.

ZENO holds virtue to be the only
good, 128.

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