f 
 
BOHN'S CLASSICAL LIBRARY. 
 
 CICERO'S 
 
 THKEE BOOKS OF OFFICES. 
 AND OTHER MORAL WORKS 
 

 i€ Finden. 
 
 II C 2 
 
O'S -^ 
 
 THEEf-^atrtS OF OFFICES, 
 
 OR MOEAL DUTIES: 
 
 CATO MAJOR, AN ESSAY ON OLD AGE; LtELH^S, AN 
 ESSAY ON FEIENDSHIP ; PARADOXES ; SCIPIO'S 
 DKEAM ; AND LETTER TO QUINTUS ON THE 
 DUTIES OF A MAGISTRATE. 
 
 WTTB NOTES, DESIGNED TO EXHIBIT A COMPABATIVE VIEW OP THE OPINIONS 
 
 OF CICEKO, AND THOSE OF MODEEN MORALISTS 
 
 AND ETHICAL PHILOSOPHERS. 
 
 BY CYRUS R. EDMONDS. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 BELL & DALDY, YORK STREET, COVENT GARDEN. 
 
 1873. 
 

 LONDON . PRINTEO BY WrLr-rAM CLOWES ABTD SONS, STAMFORD STREET 
 AND CHAEma CK03S. 
 
PREFACE 
 
 v^. 
 
 i ^ 
 
 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 inac- 
 curacy of the so called literal translation of Cockman ; 
 the second, to present the opinions of modern mo- 
 ralists, 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 per- 
 eive how far these changes have been occasioned by 
 the promulgation of the Christian religion. 
 
 A subsidiary design has been to show, by parallel pas- 
 sages, to what extent the writings of modern moralists 
 have been tinctured with the thoughts of the lioman 
 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 observa- 
 tions 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 Panaetius, a Greek philosopher, who 
 resided at Rome in the second century before Christ. 
 In the first book he treats of what is virtuous in itself, 
 and shows in what manner our duties are founded in 
 morality and virtue, in the right perception of truth, 
 iustice, 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 enlarges on those duties which 
 relate to utility, the irocrovement of life, and the means 
 
IV PREFACE. 
 
 of attaining wealth and power. This division of the 
 work relates principally to political advancement, and 
 the honourable means of gaining popularity, among 
 which are enumerated generosity, courtesy, and elo- 
 quence. Thus far Cicero had, in all probability, closely 
 followed the steps of P^naetius. Garve, in his commen- 
 tary on Moral Duties, remarks that, when Cicero comes 
 to the more subtle and philosophic parts of his subject, 
 he evidently translates from the Greek, and that he has 
 not always found words in his own language to express 
 the nicer distinctions of the Greek schools. The work oi 
 Pansetius, however, was left imperfect, and did not com- 
 prise 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, accordingly, 
 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 however, 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 represented it as written for his instruction. "It 
 is," says Kelsall, " the noblest present ever made by 
 a parent to a child." Cicero declares that he intended 
 to treat in it of all the duties, but it is generally con- 
 sidered to have been chiefly drawn up as a manual 
 of political morality, and as a guide to young Romane 
 of his son's age and rank, which might enable them 
 to attain political eminence, and tread with innocence 
 and safety " the slippery steeps of power." 
 
 The Dialogue on Friendship is addressed with 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 V 
 
 peculiar propriety to Atticus, who, as Cicero tells him in 
 his dedication, cannot 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 Scaevola or a Leelius. The memorable and hereditary 
 friendship which subsisted between Lselius and the 
 younger Scipio Africanus, rendered the former a suit- 
 able example. To support a conversation on this de- 
 lightful topic, Fannius the historian, and Mucins Scae- 
 vola the augur, both sons-in-law of Laelius, are supposed 
 to pay a visit to their father immediately after the sud- 
 den and suspicious death of Scipio Africanus. The re- 
 cent loss which Laelius 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 
 Mucins Scaevola, and, among other interesting conversa- 
 tions which he thus enjoyed an opportunity of hearing, 
 he was one day present while Scaevola related the sub- 
 stance of the conference on Friendship, which he and 
 Fannius had held with Laelius a few days after the 
 death of Scipio. Many of the ideas and sentiments 
 which Laelius uttered are declared by Scaevola to have 
 originally flowed from Scipio, with whom the nature 
 and laws of friendship formed a favourite topic. This, 
 perhaps, 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 dia- 
 logue, but a continued discourse delivered by Cato the 
 censor at the request of Scipio and Laelius. It is un- 
 doubtedly 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 
 
VI PREFACE. 
 
 the infirmities of old age, but even rendered that por 
 tion 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 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 Cato, in the eighty-fourth year of a vigorous and 
 useful old age, on the occasion of Laelius and the younger 
 Scipio expressing their admiration at the wonderful ease 
 with which he still bore the weight of years. This 
 aflPords 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 support- 
 able but comfortable. He enumerates those causes 
 which are commonly supposed to constitute the infeli- 
 city 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 enjoyment 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 deprived, 
 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 defence 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 
 Qionestum) is alone good; that the virtuous can want 
 nothing for complete happiness ; that there are no de- 
 grees either in crimes or good actions ; that every fool 
 is mad; that the wise alone are wealthy and free ; 
 
PKEFACE. Vll 
 
 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 philosophy, 
 and each is personally applied to some individual. 
 
 The narrative, entitled SciPio's Dream is put into 
 the mouth of the younger Scipio Afiicanus, who relates 
 that, in his youth, when he first served in Africa, he 
 visited the court of Massinissa, the steady friend of the 
 t^omans, and particularly of the Cornelian family. 
 During the feasts and entertainments of the day, the 
 conversation turned on the words and actions of the 
 first great 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 sublimitv of thought with brilliant ima- 
 gination. 
 
 The letter, On the Duties of a. Magistrate, 
 is one of the most remarkable of the kind that has 
 ever been penned. It was addressed by Cicero to his 
 brother Quintus, on the occasion of his government in 
 Asia being prolonged to a third year. Availing himself 
 ot the rights or 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 (5f 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 his contemporaries, and bequeath to posterity 
 an unsullied name 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 Page, 
 
 Preface v 
 
 Offices, or Moral Duties, Book I I 
 
 „ „ Book II 77 
 
 ., , Book III , 115 
 
 L.ELIUS, AN Essay on Friendship 169 
 
 Cato Major, an Essay on Old Age . 216 
 
 Paradoxes 263 
 
 SciPio's Dream 238 
 
 Letter to Quintus on the Duties of a Mag»<4Trate 306 
 
 Index 329 
 
CICERO 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 
 furnished with the rules and principles of philosophy, on 
 account of the pre-eminent reputation botli 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 feven in the practice of speak- 
 ing, I recommend to you the same method, that you may 
 excel equally in both kinds of composition. 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 pro- 
 fited somewhat by me both in speaking and reasoning. 
 
 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- 
 
 ^ B 
 
2 CIOERO'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 equalled them 
 in extent ; for there is in the former the greater force of 
 language, but you ought to cultivate, at the same time, the 
 equable 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 laboured 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 delivered them with gracefulness and 
 beauty. I form the same judgment of Aristotle and Iso- 
 crates, 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, amidst 
 public or private affairs, abroad or at home — whether you 
 transact anything with yourself or contract anything with 
 another — that is without its obligations. In the due discharge 
 of that consists all the dignity, and in its neglect all the 
 disgrace, of life. 
 
 This is an inquiry common to all philosophers ; for where 
 is the man who will presume to style himself a philosopher, 
 and lav dow" no rules of duty? But there are certain 
 
CHAP. n.J CICEKO'S OFFICES. 3 
 
 schools which pervert all dutj by the ultimate objects of 
 good and evil which thej propose. For if a man shoultl* 
 lay down as the chief good, that which has no connexion 
 with virtue, and measure it by his own interests, and not 
 according to its moral merit ; if such a man shall act con- 
 sistently -w^th his own principles, and is not sometimes influ- 
 enced 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.* 
 
 * 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 floui-ished in the 17th century. 
 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 himself, 
 in his treatise, " De Legibus:" — " The impulse," he 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 natm-e of things. It did not begin to be 
 law when it was first written but when it originated, and it is coeval with 
 the Divine Mind itself." 
 
 The most noted contemporary opponents of these views were Cudworth 
 and Dr. Clarke; the sum of whose moral doctrine is thus stated in Mac- 
 kintosh's " Progress of Ethical Philosophy:" — " Man can conceive nothing 
 ■without, at the same time, conceiving its relations to other things. He 
 must ascribe the same law of perception to every being to whom he ascribes 
 thought. He caimot, 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 between 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 xmfitness in the application of things ore to 
 
4 CICEKO'S OFFICES. [UOOK I. 
 
 Though these truths are so self-evident that they require 
 no philosophical discussion, jet they have been treated by 
 me elsewhere. I say, therefore, that if these schools are 
 
 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 God, 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 Mac- 
 kintosh 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 belief of the tendency ol 
 that remedy to preserve life, which is another relation 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 relations 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 
 Avhich we are a part, over the passions pointing to our individual welfare; 
 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 refine- 
 ment of the selfish system, by considering the pleasure connected with the 
 exercise of this virtuous benevolence as the object in the view of the bene- 
 volent man. 
 
 Malebranche places all virtue in " the love" of the universal order, as it 
 eternally existed in the Divine reason, where every created reason contem- 
 plates it. 
 
 The metaphysician of America, designated by Robert Hall, " that pro- 
 digy of metaphysical acumen," Jonathan Edwards, places moral excellence 
 in the love to being (that is, sentient being) in general. This good will 
 should be felt towards a particular being — first, in proportion to his degree 
 of existence (" for," says he, *' that which is great has more existence, and is 
 farther from nothing, than that which is little'") ; and, secondly, in pro- 
 portion to the degree in Avhich 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 is that he 
 honestly attend to it. Conscience does not only ofier itself to show us the 
 way we should walk in, but it likewise carries its own authority with it, that 
 
CHAP. IT.] CICEKOS OFFICES. 5 
 
 self-consistent, they can saj 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, 
 
 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 contemporary with Butler, the principle 
 against which Cicero protests assumes a systematic character. The doc- 
 trine 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 Himie, 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 cha- 
 racter to actions, will reveal the grand defects 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 superstruc- 
 ture of practical morals is built, chieHy on the foxmdation of Dr. Butle . 
 The former of the passages referred to is as follows: — " We conclude that 
 God wills and wishes the happiness of his creatiues; 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 God, 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 accord- 
 ing to their tendency ; the agent is virtuous or vicious according to his 
 design.'''' — " Paley's Moral Philosophy," book 1, chaps. 5 and 6. 
 
 A still later philosopher, Jeremy Bentham, however, is the great 
 apostle of the principle of expediency as the foundation of ethics. His 
 theory, also, as to the basis of moral obligation, may be learned by two 
 characteristic passages: — ^" Nature has placed mankind under the govern- 
 ance of two sovereign masters, pain and 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." — " Bentham's Introd. 
 of Morals," vol.1, c. 1. And again: — "But is it never, then, from any 
 other consideration than that of utility that we derive our notions of right 
 ^nd 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 matters 
 not, comparatively, how they are decided." — Id. vol. 1, c. 2. 
 
 In conclusion, the two most enlightened philosophers of modem times. 
 Dugald Stewart and Dr. Thomas Brown, have returned to the principle 
 
G CICERO's OFFICES. [BOOK I. 
 
 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.* 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 
 
 thus simply laid down by Cicero, in repudiation of the Epicurean theory, 
 that expediency, or its tendency to produce happiness, is the moral cri- 
 terion of actions, and have supported it by an unexam<pled array of pro- 
 found and ingenious argument and eloquent illustration. A single re- 
 conciling principle may be 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 inten- 
 tions 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 language, 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 coincide, that utility can be 
 aflnrmed 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. 
 
 * Cicero, though generally adopting the principles of the Stoics, still 
 professes himself an Eclectic philosopher, culling from all systems what 
 appeared to bear most distinctly the stamp of truth, but not submitting 
 
CHAP, in.l 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 
 discussion. 
 
 in. 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.* Examples of the former are as follow : — Whether 
 all duties are perfect in themselves ? Whether one duty is 
 of more importance than another ? 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 1 mistake not, the 
 complete or perfect duty is the same with what we call a 
 direct one, and by the Greeks is called y.a,r6pQoj[ji.ac. As to 
 that duty which is mean they call it >ca9;jH0v, and they thus 
 define those terms. Whatever duty is absolute, that they 
 call a perfect duty; and they call that duty, for the per- 
 
 to the authority of any. Horace makes a similar profession respecting 
 himself — 
 
 " Iffullius addictus jurare in verba 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 deeply interested, followed the severest sect of philosophy, and became 
 almost a Stoic. — " Progress of Ethical Philosophy." 
 
 * 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 term ethics is derived from the Greek 
 rjjhiKi), 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 eSrog, 
 " habit, xise, or custom," since it is from habitua' experience, and the 
 routine of customary conduct, that moral dispositions and principles are 
 gradually formed atid changed. Perhaps the definition of Dr. Thomas 
 Brown cannot be improved : " Ethics is the science vrhich relates to our 
 mutual aifections, not simply as phenomena, but as they are virtuous or 
 vicious, right or wrong." 
 
8 CICERO*S OFFICES. [BOOK /. 
 
 formance of which a probable reason can be assigned, a 
 mean duty.* 
 
 In the opinion, therefore, of Panaetius, 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 o 
 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 recti- 
 tude ; 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 deliberation. 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 two things that are virtuous, which is the more excellent ? 
 And, in like manner, 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 comparatively. 
 
 ly. 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 
 
 * " 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 KaOrjKov, 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 mtin, is KaropGcufia, or perfect observance 
 of rectitude, which consisted onlv 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 Etlncal Philosoph-".*' 
 
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 
 
 * " 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 
 obvi'^us properties of external objects, and gradually, from thdr birth, 
 treasure up a knowledge of the nature of fire, water, earth, stones, heights, 
 depths, &c., and of the effects which result from their operation. The 
 ig-norance and inexperience of the young are here plainly distinguishable 
 from the cunning and sagacity of the old, who have learned by long obser- 
 vation to avoid what hm-t them, and to pursue what gave ease or pleasure. 
 This is still more evident from the effects of discipline 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 renders a dog apprehensive 
 of pain when you menace him, or 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 is 
 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 original 
 hand of INature, which much exceed the share of capacity they possess, 
 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 inexplicable by all 
 the disquisitions of human understanding. But our wonder wiW. perhaps 
 cease or 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, and 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 mstinct be different, yet 
 still it is an instinct which teaches a man to avoid the 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 " Enquiry concerning 
 the Himian Understanding," sec. 9. 
 
10 Cicero's offices. [book i 
 
 man, because endowed with reason, by which he discerns 
 consequences, 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 
 whatever is necessary for passing 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 
 affection 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 tilings 
 either obscure or wonderful to be the indispensable means 
 of living happily.* From this we understand that truth, 
 simplicity, and candour, 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 
 
 * " Nature has made it delightful to man to know, disquieting to him 
 to know only imperfectly, while anything 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 sufficient that 
 there is something unknown which has a relation to something 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 everything which we are capable of 
 knowing, and not to realities merely but to all the extravagancies of 
 fiction." — Dr. Thomas Brown's "Lectures on the Philosophy of the Human 
 Mind." 
 
CHAP V.J OIOEKO'S OFFICES. 11 
 
 proceeds loftiness of mind, and contempt for worldly inte- 
 rests.* 
 
 Neither is it a mean privilege of nature and reason, tli&t 
 man is the onlj animal who is sensible of order, of decencj, 
 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. An 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 indecent 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 honourable 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,| 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. 
 
 * The same sentiment, with reference to the love of knowledge, is more 
 beautifully expressed by Vu-gil : — 
 
 " Felix qui potuit rerum cognoscere causas ; 
 Atque metus omnes et inexorabile fatum 
 Subjecit pedibus, strepitumque Acherontis avari." 
 
 Georg. II. lines 490-492. 
 
 t Our bodily eyes.'] " This is a fine and a celebrated sentiment of Plato. 
 '0-^l.Q (says he, in his Phedro) iji^ilv o^vrdrr} tCjv did tov owjxaToq ipxsrai 
 aicr6f](T6<jJVj T] <pp6vr] eig ovk opaTat, otivovg yap av Traptixtiv epuirag, ti 
 roiovTov iavr-qp kvapykg e'iSwXov Trapdxero elg 6-ipig I6v: ' Our eyesight 
 (says he) is the most exqxiisite of our senses, yet it does not serve us to 
 discern -vnsdom; if it did, what a glow of love would she kindle within us.' 
 The reader m .y, perhaps, observe with what propriety Cicero applies to 
 virtue what Plato says of wisdom." — Guthrie. 
 
12 Cicero's offices. [book l 
 
 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 comprehend 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 
 acquiring 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 conspicuously, in prop rly 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 gnd moderation in those 
 things which constitute the objects of active life, that we 
 shall preserve virtue and decency. 
 
 YI. 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 aiFects the nature of man. 
 For all of us are impelled and carried along to the love of 
 knowledge and learning, in which Ave 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.* And he that wishes, as every 
 man ought to wish, to avoid this error, must devote both 
 his time and nis industry to the study of things. The other 
 fault is, that some people bestow too much study and pains 
 
 * " The highest perfection of human reason is to know that there is an 
 infinity of truth beyond its reach." — Pascal. 
 
CHAP, vn.] Cicero's offices. 13 
 
 upon things that are obscure,* 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 
 themselves, and worthy of his knowledge, will be deservedly 
 commended. Thus we have heard how Caius Sulpiciust ex- 
 celled in astronomy, and Sextus Pompeius, to my own know- 
 ledge, 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 activity. Yet this is often intermitted, 
 and frequent are our returns 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 a 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 lustre, 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- 
 
 * " The emperor Antoninus very finely thanks the gods, that when he 
 applied to the study of philosophy he was taught by Junius Rusticus to 
 avoid this error. Tbv tig kavrov ottcoq kriQvfirjffa (pi\o(TO(piag, fir/ 
 kfiirecTHv dg riva <ro(pi(TTrjv firjdt diroKaOiaai iwi rovg avyypa^tlg j) 
 (JvWoyiaiiovg dvaXveiv, rj Trepl to. neretvpoXoyiKd KarayiveaOai : ' 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 useless studies of astrology.*' — 
 Guthrie, 
 
 f " We have, in the Roman history, a remarkable story of this noble- 
 man, by which we may see the excellent eifects of learning in a man oi 
 consideration, who knows how to time it well. For we are told, that 
 while he served against the Macedonians, under Julius ^milius, 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."— 
 Gtithri&> 
 
14 Cicero's offices. [book i. 
 
 voked* by suffering wrong; next, that public property be 
 appropriated 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 unoccupied territories); or victory (as when they have 
 taken possession 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.f 
 
 But (as has been strikingly said by Plato) we are not 
 born for ourselves alone, and our country claim,'5 her share, 
 and our friends their share of us ; and, as the Stoics hold, 
 
 * "Dictat autem ratio homini (says Grotius, de Jure Belli ac Pads, lib. 2, 
 cap. 20, §5) nihil agendum quod noceatur homini alteriy nisi id bonum 
 habeat aliquid proposiium. In solo autem inimici dohre, 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." — Vid plura in loo. cit. 
 
 t This subject has been extensively investigated by modern moralists 
 and jurists. Paley, in one of his chapters on property, adduces and 
 comments upon the principal theories that have been advanced. Those of 
 Mr. Locke, and of Paley himself, may be briefly given in the words of the 
 latter. " Each man's limbs and labour are his own exclusively ; by occu- 
 pying a piece of ground a man inseparably mixes his labour with it, by 
 which means the piece of ground becomes thenceforward his own, as you 
 cannot take it from him without depriving him at the same time of some- 
 thing 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 of the Land. It is the intention of God that the produce of 
 .he earth be applied to the use of man ; this intention cannot be fulfilled 
 without establishing property ; it is consistent, therefore, with his will that 
 property be established. The land cannot be divided into separate pro- 
 perty without leaving it to the law of the country to regulate 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. VIII. J 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 j ustice 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 Jides, or faith- 
 fulness, is no other than a performance of what we have 
 promised.* 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 anotlier 
 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 
 purpose of doing an injury, often proceed from fear ; as for 
 instance, when a man Avho 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 
 
 * Fides, qaiajiat quod dictmn est. 
 
lb Cicero's offices. [book i 
 
 mere desire to improve one's private fortune, v^ithout 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, honours, 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 cannot ob- 
 tain 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. Caesar, 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 honour, 
 empire^ power, and glory, is generally most prevalent in the 
 greatest soul and the most exalted genius ;* for which 
 reason every crime of that sort is the more carefully to be 
 guarded against. But in every species of injustice it is a 
 very material question, whether it is committed through some 
 agitation of passion, which commonly is short-lived and tem- 
 porary, 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 prepara- 
 tion. But enough has been said concerning inflicting injury. 
 IX. Various are the causes of men omitting the defence 
 of others, or neglecting their duty towards 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 
 pursuits, that they suffer those they ought to protect to be 
 neglected. Hence we must take care lest Plato's observa- 
 tion with respect to philosophers should be falsified : ** That 
 
 • 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 
 
CJIAP. IX.] CICEEO'J) OiFICES. 17 
 
 they are men of integrity, because they are solely engaged in 
 the pursuit of truth, and despise and neglect those con- 
 siderations which others value, and which mankind are wont 
 to contend for amongst 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 ; because, being entangled in the pursuits of learn- 
 ing, they abandon those they ought to protect. Some, 
 therefore, think 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.* There are others who, either from 
 a desire to improve their private fortune, or from some per- 
 sonal resentments, pretend that they mind their own affairs 
 only thi\t they may appear not to do wi'ong to another. No^\^ 
 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 labour, none 
 of their abihties. Having thus stated the two kinds of dis- 
 honesty 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 occasion. 
 
 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. "j* Meanwhile, because we 
 have the quicker perception and sensation of whatever 
 happens favourably or untowardly to ourselves than to 
 others, which we see as it were at a greater distance, tht 
 
 * 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 character 
 of conduct to depend on its essential utility ; — inasmuch as on the latter 
 showing a morally good action may not only be performed under com- 
 pulsion, but even with the dehberate and sole intention of producing the 
 opposite results, namely, those which are in every aspect the most 
 mischievous. 
 
 + Heautontimnrumenos, Act I., Scene 1 : Homo sura ; humani nihil 
 ?. me ahenum puto. Augustin, who was made bishop of Hippo, a.d. 293, 
 mentions the universal applause with which this admiT^ble sentiment was 
 
 O 
 
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 lustre, but doubt implies the entertainment of 
 injustice. 
 
 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, some- 
 times alter so, that it is just they should not be observed ; for 
 it is proper to have recourse to those fundamentals of honesty 
 which 1 laid down in the commencement : in the first place, 
 that of inj uring no person ; and, secondly, that of being sub- 
 servient to the public good. When these conditions are 
 altered by circumstances, the moral obligation, not being in- 
 variably 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 meantime, it would be no breach of duty 
 
 received in the theatre. He himself has left us an expansion of the same 
 idea in the following words : — 
 
 " Omnis homo est omni homini proximus, nee iilla cogitanda est longin- 
 quitas generis ubi est natura communis." 
 
 " Every inan is most closely connected with his every fellow man, nor 
 should any distance of relationship enter into consideration where there is a 
 common nature." 
 
CHAP. X.] CICEEO'S OFFICES. 19 
 
 in jou not to perform -vvliat you promise ; the oih<ir 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,* or seduced by deceit? 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 artfid but fraudulent construction of the law. Hence, 
 '•' the rigour of law is the rigour 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 had con- 
 cluded a truce mth 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, indee-^, if 
 it is true, is the conduct of our countrjTnan, 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 
 Nola and those of Naples, counselled each of those people 
 separately to do mothing covetously, 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 tlie boundary 
 to which they had confined themselves, 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.+ 
 
 * See concliision of Note, pp. 19, 20. 
 
 *j- With these imperfect, and in. some respects most faulty, notions touch- 
 ing the obligations of promises, it -vrill be instructive to compare the prin- 
 ciples of modem moralists. The following is a brief digest of these principles 
 as given by Paley (" Moral and Political Philosophy," book 3, chap. 5): — 
 ''' They who ai'gue from innate moral principles, suppose a sense of the 
 obhgation of promises to be one of them ; but without assuming this, or any- 
 thing else, without proof, the obligation to perform 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 impossible 
 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 
 eiisential to the intercourse of human Hfe; because without it the greatest 
 
 c 2 
 
20 Cicero's offices. Lbook i. 
 
 XL Certain duties are also to be observed, even towards 
 those who have wronged you; for there is a mean even in 
 revenge and punishments. Nay, I am not certain whether 
 
 part of our conduct would proceed upon chance. But there could be no 
 confidence in promises, if men were not obliged to perform them; the obli- 
 gation, 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 promisee 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 knomngly and voluntarily excite. Conse- 
 quently, any action or conduct towards 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 obligation 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 contradict a former promise. 4. Promises are not binding 
 before acceptance; that is, before notice given to the promisee. 5. Pro- 
 mises are not binding which are released by the promisee. And, 6. Erro- 
 neous promises 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 sup- 
 position, or when the promiser apprehended it to be so understood, and that 
 supposition txums out to be false; then the promise is not binding," It is 
 only necessary to cite another passage vdth reference to extorted promises. 
 It seems obvious here to remark, that in the case of promises, or even de- 
 clarations, unjustly extorted — as by the highwayman 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 fulfil the promise. This point 
 Dr. Paley leaves (unnecessarily, as I think) undecided. " It has," he says, 
 " long been controverted amongst moralists, whether promises be binding 
 which are extorted by violence or fear. The obligation of all promises re- 
 sults, we have seen, from the necessity or the use of that confidence which 
 mankind repose in them. The question, therefore, whether these promises 
 are bindiiig, will depend upon this : whether mankind, upon the whole, are 
 benefited by the confidence 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 
 <pare your life he shall find a purse of money left for him at a place ap- 
 pointed. Upon the faith of this promise he forbears from further violence. 
 NoAv, your life was saved by the confidence reposed in a prondse 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 in- 
 struments of almost unlimited extortion. This is a bad consequence; and 
 in the question between the importance of these opposite consequences, 
 resides the doubt concerning the obligations of such promises." 
 
CHAP. XI. J Cicero's offices. 21 
 
 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.* 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 characterises men, the latter, 
 brutes, if the former cannot 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 -3Lqui, the Volscians, the Sabines, 
 and the Hernici, but utterly destroyed Carthage and Nu- 
 mantia. I a'm 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 
 have conquered by force, so those should be received into our 
 protection who throw themselves upon the honour of our 
 
 * " The insolence and brutality of anger, when we indulge its fiirv 
 without check or restraint is, of all objects, the most detestable. But Ave 
 admire that noble and generous resentment which governs its pursuit of the 
 greatest injxiries, not by the rage which they axe apt to excite in the breast 
 of the sufferer, but by the indignation which they naturally call forth in 
 that cf the impartial spectator ; which allows no word, no gestxu-e, to 
 escape it beyond what this more equitable sentiment 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 acknow- 
 ledgments have been made by the offending party, or even without any 
 such acknowledgments, when the public interest requii-es 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 
 towards the person who had most grievously offended him, seems justly to 
 merit our highest admiration. — Id. part 6, section 3. 
 
22 CICERO S OFFICES. j_BOOK I. 
 
 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, became 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,* 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, enjoins 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, tliat 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 
 stranger. This the twelve tables demonstrate: as in the 
 
 * To reclaim property, S^cJ] " The formal and public declaration of war 
 was an indispensable preliminary to it among the Romans. This decla- 
 ration was either conditional or simple. The conditional was when it was 
 made cum rerum repetitioue, which sometimes not only implied satisfaction 
 for property but punishment upon tlie offender. A simple declaration 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, ^c. — Guthrie. 
 
CHAP. xTTT .j Cicero's offices. 23 
 
 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 
 against 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 rancour; 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 poAver, 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 Cartha- 
 ginians, 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 con(iuest 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 ^acid£B, 
 
 XIII. Nay, if even private persons should, induced by 
 circumstances, make a promise to the enemy, even in this 
 fidelity should be observed. Thus Pegulus, 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 senat*? 
 
24 Cicero's offices. [book i. 
 
 that the prisoners should not be restored; and after that, 
 when he was detained by his relations and friends, he chose 
 to deliver himself up to a cruel death rather than to falsify 
 his word to the enemy. 
 
 But in the second Punic war, after the battle of Canna?, 
 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, he 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 consi- 
 dered.* But our forefathers set us a most eminent example 
 of justice towards an enemy; for when a deserter from 
 Pyrrhus offered to the senate to despatch 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 aggressive war. 
 
 Enough has now been said respecting the duties connected 
 with warfare : but we must bear in mind, that justice is due 
 
 * As oaths are designed tor the security of the imposer, it is manifest 
 that they must be interpreted and performed in the sense in which the 
 imposer intends them ; otherwise they afford no security to him. And this 
 is the meaning and reason of the rule, " jurare in animum imponentis." — 
 Paley's " Moral and Political Philosophy," book 3, chap. 16, 
 
 Against the practice of administering oaths as demoralizing, we may instance 
 two authorities. " The effect," says Dymond, " of instituting oaths is to 
 diminish the practical obligation of simple affirmation. The law says you 
 must speak the truth when you are upon your oath, which is the same 
 thing as to say that it is less harm to violate truth when you are not on 
 your oath. The court sometimes reminds a witness that he is upon oath, 
 which is equivalent to saying, If you were not we should think less of your 
 mendacity. The same lesson is inculcated by the assignation 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 administering oaths in a 
 court of justice. All attempts to strengthen the obligations of morality, 
 by fictitious and spurious motives, avlII, in the sequel, be found to have nc 
 tendency but to relax them." 
 
CHAP. XIV.] CICEEO'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 t© put them upon the same 
 footing as hired labourers, 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. Let me now, as I proposed, speak of beneficence 
 and liberality, virtues that are the most agreeable to the 
 nature of man, but 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 aU these things should be referred. And 
 they who do kindnesses which prove of disservice to the 
 person they pretend 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 dishonesty as if they should appropriate 
 to themselves what belongs to another.* 
 
 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 practise that 
 kind of generosity that is serviceable to our friends, but 
 
 * " 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 cates for the idle and the prodigal, we soon 
 retract our heedless prfilses. The regrets of a prince for having lost a day 
 were noble and generous, but had he intended to have spent it in acts oi 
 generosity to his greedy courtiers, it was better lost than misemployed aftef 
 that manner." — Hume's " Dissertation on the Passions," section 2. 
 
26 CICERO'S OFFICES. [bOOK 1 
 
 hurtful to none. Upon this principle, when Lucius Sylla 
 and Caius Caesar took property from its just owners and 
 transferred it to strangers, 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 than 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 osten- 
 tation. Now such a simulation 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 disposition towards us, together with the general good of 
 society, and how far he may have already contributed to our 
 own interest. 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 com- 
 pletely 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. XVI.] ClCERO's OFFICES. 27 
 
 kindness Tvhicli a person expresses for us, our first duty is, 
 to perform the most for liim by whom we are most beloved. 
 Now we are to judge of kindness, not like children, hj a sort of 
 ardour 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 
 inteiest, 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 
 towards those who have served us already ? For as 
 generosity is of two kinds, the one conferring a favour, 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 ; 
 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 A^dth which 
 a favour is conferred. For many confer numerous favours 
 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 hui'ricane : such favours are 
 not to be esteemed so highly as those which result from 
 judgment, consideration, and consistency. But in conferring 
 or requiting 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 practised by the generality, who direct their greatest 
 serA^ices to the man from whom they hope the most, though 
 he may stand in no need of them. 
 
 X^T. Now society and alliances amongst 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 amongst 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 i 
 
 teacliiDg, 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 verj 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 amongst 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 as that they 
 may be possessed in the manner prescribed by laws and civil 
 statutes: of which laws themselves some are to be observed in 
 accordance with the Greek proverb, " that all things amongst 
 friends are to be in common." Now this community consists 
 of things which are of that nature which, though placed 
 by Ennius under one head, may be applied to many. " He 
 (says that author) who kindly shows the bewildered traveller 
 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 particulars that are serviceable to the receiver without 
 being detrimental to the bestower. We are therefore to 
 practise them, and be constantly contributing somewhat to 
 the common good. As the means, however, of each par- 
 ticular person are very confined and the numbers of the 
 indigent are boundless, our distributive generosity ought still 
 to be bounded by the principle 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, to quit the foregoing unbounded kind, there is one more 
 confined, which consists of men of the same race, nation, 
 and language, by which people are more intimately connected 
 
CHAP. XVII. I Cicero's offices. 29 
 
 among themselves. A more contracted sociely than that 
 consists of men inhabiting the same city; for many things 
 are in common among fellow citizens, such as their forum, 
 their temples, their porticoes, 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 intercourses of numbers with numbers. There 
 is a still more contracted 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 principle of society consists in the marriage tie, the 
 next in children, the next in a family within one roof, where 
 everything is in common. This society gives rise to the 
 city, and is, as it were, the nursery of the commonwealth. 
 Next follows the connexion of brotherhood, next that of 
 cousins, in their different degrees; and, when they grow too 
 numerous to be contained under one roof, they are trans- 
 planted to different dwellings, as it were to so many colonies. 
 Then follow marriages and alliances, whence spring more 
 numerous relationships. The descendants, by this propa- 
 gation, form the origin of commonwealths; but the ties and 
 affections of blood bind mankind by affection.* 
 
 For there is something very powerful in having the monu- 
 
 * " Families are so many centres of attraction, which preserve mankind 
 from being scattered and dissipated by the repulsive powers of selfishness. 
 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 development 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 opposition to this view 
 stands the theory of President Edwards, which was afterwards extensively 
 adopted in an aggravated form. " True virtue, according to him, (says 
 Sir James Mackintosh, " Progress of Ethical Philosophy,") consists in 
 benevolence, or love to being ' in general,' which he afterwards limits to 
 ' intelligent being,' though sentient would have involved a more reasonable 
 limitation. This good will is felt towards a particular being, first in 
 proportion to his degree of existence, (' for,' says he, ' that which is great 
 has more existence, and is farther from nothing than that which is little,') 
 and secondly, in proportion to the degree in vMch that particular being 
 feels benevolence to others." Perhaps the ablest refutation of these 
 
30 Cicero's offices. [book l 
 
 meuts of our ancestors the same, in practising the same 
 religious rites, and in having the same places of interment 
 But amongst all the degrees of society, none is more excel- 
 
 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 certain 
 metaphysical divines in America, first invented and defended by that most 
 acute reasoner, Jonathan Edwards. They both place virtue exclusively 
 in a Jftission for the general good ; or, as Mr. Edwards expresses it, love to 
 being in general; so that our love is always to be pro])ortioned 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, 
 (I.) 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 attach- 
 ment 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 views of the extent of the universe 
 are capable of perpetual enlargement, admitting the sum of existence is 
 ever the same, we must return back at each step to diminish the strength of 
 particular aflfections, or they will become disproportionate, and conse- 
 quently, on these principles, vicious ; so that the balance must be con- 
 tinually fluctuating, by the weights being taken out of one scale and put 
 into the other. (3.) If virtue consist 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 immediate, 
 nay, their necessary tendency is to attract to their objects a proportion of 
 attention which far exceeds their comparative value in the general scale. 
 To allege that the general good is promoted by them, will be of no 
 advantage to the defence of this system, but 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 respecting 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 merely, 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, vnthout leaving sufficient scope for the infinite variety of 
 moral phenomena and mental combination j in consequence of which its 
 
CHAP. XVII. 
 
 ClCEliO S OFFICES. 31 
 
 lent, none more stable, than when worthy men, through a 
 similaiity 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 dispositions;* because amongst 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 conferred and received; and, provided 
 these be reciprocal and agreeable, those amongst whom they 
 happen are bound together in close association. 
 
 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 ; another, which maintains the union of 
 bodies themselves Avith 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 affections bear to each other, and their use in the 
 moral system. 
 
 * " Friendship, founded on the principles of worldly morality, recognised 
 by virtuous heathens, such as that which subsisted between Atticus and 
 Cicero — which the last of these illustrious men has 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 endless duration. The 
 former of these stood the shock of conflicting opinions, 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 composed of the best elements of nature, 
 is not exempt from its mutability and frailty ; the latter is spiritual, and, 
 therefore, unchanging and imperishable. The friendship which is fotmded 
 on kindred tastes and congenial habits, apart from piety, is permitted by 
 the benignity of Providence to embellish a world, which, with all its magni- 
 ficence 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." 
 
i}2 Cicero's offices. [book 
 
 But wlien you view everything 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, employed in her utter destruction. But were 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 
 strongest obligations; the next are our children and entire 
 family, who depend upon us alone, without having any other 
 refuge; the next our agreeable 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, ex- 
 hortations, consultations, and even sometimes reproofs, flourish 
 chiefly in friendships, and those friendships are the most 
 agreeable that are cemented by a similarity of manners. 
 
 XYIII. But in performing all those 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 neighbour 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- 
 bour. 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 be in the theory of their art, can ever 
 perform anything that is highly praiseworthy, without expe- 
 rience and practice, so rules have indeed been laid down for the 
 
CHAP. XIX. J CICERO'S OFFICES. 33 
 
 observation of duties, as I myself am doing ; but the import- 
 ance of the matter demands experience and practice. 1 have 
 now, I think, sufficiently treated of the 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, 
 Salamis, Plataea, Thermopylas, Leuctra, have become the field 
 of rhetoricians ; and amongst ourselves, Codes, the Decii, the 
 two Scipios, Cneius and PubUus, 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 
 generally 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 blameable ; 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 
 " valour 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 appellation 
 of cunning rather than wisdom, but also a mind that is ready 
 fcr» encounrer danger, if it is animated by private interest, and 
 
 D 
 
34 CICERO's OFFICES. [BOOK L 
 
 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 Lacedemonians 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 oi 
 justice. Hence it is that such men will not suffer themselves 
 to be thwarted 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 pre- 
 judices 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.* 
 
 * " It mxist be strongly impressed upon our minds," says Dr. Johnson, 
 " that virtue is not to be pursued as one of the means to fame, but fame to 
 be accepted as the only recompence which mortals can bestow on virtue — 
 to be accepted with complacence, but not sought with eagerness. The true 
 gatisfaction which is to be drawn from the consciousness that we shall shar^i 
 
CHAP. XS. 1 CICERO'S OFFICES. 3o 
 
 XX. A spirit altogetlier 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.* 
 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, and 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 na- 
 tural 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.^ 
 Wherefore, we ought to watch and avoid the love of money : 
 
 the attention of future times, must arise from the hope that with our name 
 our %-irtues will be propagated, and that those whom we cannot benefit in 
 our lives may receive instruction from our examples, and incitement from 
 our reno-vvn." — Rambler. 
 
 * " 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 gi-eainess aspfres either to 
 felicity or to wisdom, it shakes off those distinctions which dazzle the gazer 
 and awe the suppliant." — Dr. Johnson. 
 
 t " Be not a Reicvdes fur ens abroad, and a poltroon -within thyself. To 
 chase our enemies out of the field, and be led captive by our vices; to hen*- 
 
 D 2 
 
36 Cicero's offices [book l 
 
 for nothing so truly characterizes a narrow, grovelling 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 libe- 
 rality. I 
 
 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 far 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. Amongst these, some of the noblest 
 and most leading of our philosophers 4 and some persons, 
 of strict and grave dispositions, were ujiable 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 anything or obeying any person ; 
 for the essence of liberty is to live just as you please. 
 
 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." 
 
 * " 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 practised conclusions. Some have held that snow is black, 
 that the earth moves, that the soul is air, fire, water; but all this is phi- 
 losophy, and there is no delirium if we do but speculate the folly and indis- 
 putable dotage of avarice to that subterraneous idol and goi of the earth." — 
 Sir Thomas Browne's " Religio Medici." 
 
 f " A reader, of very ordinary erudition," says Guthrie, " may easily per- 
 ceive how greatly the best historians and poets amongst the Romans were 
 indebted to this and the foregoing chapter, which have served as a common- 
 place for their finest sentiments." 
 
 Z Such as Pythagoras, Democritus, Anaxagoras, Socrates, Plato, Ariar 
 totie, Zeno, Epicurus, &c. 
 
CHAP xxi.j Cicero's offices. 37 
 
 XXI. Therefore, as the object of those who are ambitious 
 for power, and of those who court retirement, and whom 1 
 have just now described, is the same, the former imagine 
 thej can attain it if thej 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, Avith an excellent genius, 
 give themselves up to learning; and to those who being 
 hindered by feebleness of health, or for some very weighty 
 reason, retire from affairs of government, and. leave to others 
 the power and the honour of the administration: but when 
 men, who 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 
 affiiirs; for neither can a state be governed, nor can magna- 
 nimity 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 
 us philosophers, if not more so, and impressed with a con- 
 tempt of common affairs and to possess that tranquillity, 
 that calm of mind, I have so much recommended; I mean, 
 if they wish to live Tvdthout anxiety, with dignity and 
 jousistency. 
 
38 Cicero's offices. [kook i. 
 
 This may be the more easily practised by philosophers, 
 because in their lives there is less exposed for fortune to 
 strike at; because their necessities are more contracted; and 
 because, if anything adverse should happen, they cannot fall 
 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 oplsiion 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 Themistocles is justly praised — 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 
 J*ausanias and Lysander amongst the Lacedemonians ; for all 
 
CHAP. XXII.] 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 
 laAvs and economy of Lycurgus ; for indeed, owing to these 
 very causes they had armies more subordinate and courageous. 
 In my eyes, iMarcus Scaurus (who flourished when I was but 
 a boy) was not inferior to Caius Marius ; nor, after I came 
 to have a concern in the government, Quintus Catulus to 
 Cneius Pompey. 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 state 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.* 
 
 For, not to mention other persons, when I was at the 
 helm of 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 pro- 
 fligate fellow citizens drop of themselves out of their hands. 
 What so great exploit as this was ever performed in wai, 
 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 
 
 • Orig. Ccdant arma togce, concedat laurea lingiice. The author is 
 here speaking of his conduct in suppressing Catiline's conspiracy. 
 
40 CICERO's OFFICES. [liOOK T. 
 
 triumph, had not mj public services preserved the place 
 in which he was to celebrate it. The examples of civil 
 courage are therefore no less meritorious than those of mili- 
 tary ; and they require a greater share of zeal and labour 
 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.* Meanwhile, the body 
 ought to be kept in such action and order, as that it may be 
 always ready to obey the dictates of reason and wisdom, in 
 carrying them into execution, and in persevering under 
 hardships. 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 M'^ho 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. 
 
 * " 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 organization 
 affects the mind. I only assume it as a fact, that there is in 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 something 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 corn-presses 
 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 consti- 
 tution 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 foun- 
 dation. Accordingly, I believe it would be found that a majority of the 
 persons most remarkable for decisive character have possessed great consti- 
 tutional physical firmness. I do not mean an exemption from disease aud 
 pain, nor any certain measure of mechanical strength, but a tone of vigour, 
 the opposite to lassitude, and adapted to great exertion and endurance. 
 This is clearly evinced in respect to many of them, by the prodigious labours 
 and deprivations which they have borne in prosecuting their designs. The 
 physical natiure has seemed a proud ally of the moral one, and, Avith a 
 hardness that would never shrink, has sustained the energy that could nevei 
 remit." — Foster's Essays " On Decision of Character," Letter 2. 
 
CUAP. XXUI.] CICERO'S OFFICES. 41 
 
 Wisdom in determining is therefore preferable to 
 courage in fighting ; but in this we are to take care that we 
 are not swayed bv an aversion to fighting rather than by a 
 consideration of expediency.* 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, witliout 
 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 
 con'^lude 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 ;■]* but to rush 
 
 * See Paley's broad statement, that expediency is the fundamental test 
 of all morality. — Book 2, chap. b". 
 
 + The rarity of self-reliance, notwithstanding the commonness of the 
 weakness that siniiilates it, is thus strikingly sho^vn 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 however 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 un- 
 derstanding has no harder task than to form opinions which are not to be 
 tried in action, they have a most self-complacent assurance of being right. 
 This assurance extends to the judgments which they pass on the proceed- 
 ings 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 depend on the bare resources (^f 
 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 overwhelmed in confusii)u ; and feels as if its 
 faculties were annihilated in the attempt to think of schemes and calcu- 
 lations among the possibilities, chances, and hazards which overspread a 
 wide untrodden field ; and this conscious imbecility becomes severe distress, 
 when it is believed that consequences, of serious or unkno^^'n good or evil, 
 are depending on the decisions which are to be formed amidst 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 he wishes to be, advances, and 
 h&iitates, and turns, and inquires, and becomes, at each corner, still more 
 
42 (TrCERO's OFFICES. [bOOK I. 
 
 precipitately into the field, and to encounter an enemy witb 
 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 dishonour. 
 
 XXIY. But with regard to overthrowing and plundering 
 of cities, great consideration is required that nothing be done 
 rashly, nothing cruelly.* 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 observed) men who prefer 
 military to civil duties, so will you find many of that cast wlic 
 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 
 
 inextricably perplexed. A man in this situation feels he shall be very 
 unfortunate if he cannot 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 V — Foster's Essay " On 
 Decision of Character," Letter '2. 
 
 • "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 or 
 force, it has naturally no boundary but that in which force terminates — the 
 destruction of the life against which the force is directed. Let it be ob- 
 served, however, that the licence of war authorizes no acts of hostihty but 
 what are necessary or conducive to the end and object of the war. Gra- 
 tuitous barbarities borrow no excuse from this plea : of which kind is every 
 cruelty and every insult that serves only to exasperate the sufferings, or to 
 incense the hatred, of an enemy, without weakening his strength, or in any 
 manner tending to procure his submission; such as the slaughter of captives, 
 the subjecting of them to indignities or torture, the violation of women, the 
 profanation of temples, the demolition of public buildings, libraries, statues, 
 and in general the destruction or defacing of works that conduce nothing 
 to annoyance or defence. These enormities are prohibited not only by the 
 practice of civilized nations, but by the law of nature itself, as having no 
 proper tendency to accelerate the termination, or accomplish the object of 
 the war, and as containing that which in peace and war is equally unjus- 
 tifiable—ultimate and gratuitous mischief." — "Moral and Political Phi- 
 losophy," book 6, chap. 12. 
 
CHAP. XXIV. J CICERO'S OFi^lGES. 43 
 
 avoid unnecessarily exposing ourselves to danger, than which 
 nothing can be more foolish. 
 
 In encountering dangers, therefore, we are 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 honour 
 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 Lacedemonian armies, during the Peloponesian 
 war, at last threw everything into confusion by refusing to 
 obey the directions of those who were for removing the fleet 
 from Arginusie, and not for fighting the Athenians ; to 
 whom his answer was, that if the Lacedemonians lost that 
 fleet they could fit out another, but that he could not turn his 
 back wdthout dishonour to himself. 'Tis true, the blow that 
 followed upon this was not very severe to the Lacedemonians ; 
 but it was a deadly one, when, from a fear of public odium, 
 Oleombrotus fought with Epamonidas, and the power of the 
 Lacedemonians perished. How preferable was the conduct 
 of Quintus Maximus, of whom Ennius says : — 
 
 " The man* who saved his country by delay. 
 No tales could move him, and no envy sway; 
 And thus the laurels on his honoured brow. 
 In age shall flourish, and with time shall grow." 
 
 * The verses quoted here by Ennius seem to ha-\'e been in high repu- 
 tation with the Romans; for Virgil has borrowed the first of them, and 
 applied it, as our author does, to the conduct of f'abius Maximus agahist 
 ilaunibah 
 
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 first 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.* 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, f Now, they who consult the interests of one part of 
 
 • " Political power is rightly exercised only when it subserves the welfare 
 of the community. The community, which has the right to withhold 
 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 conmiunity have 
 delegated specifically so much power for such and such purposes ; the 
 power, being possessed, entails the obligation. Whether a sovereign derives 
 absolute authority by inheritance, or whether a president is entrusted with 
 limited authority for a year, the principles of their duty are the same. 
 The obligation to employ it only for the public good, is just as real and 
 iust 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 fiom the fact that the Deity imperatively requires us, according to our 
 opportunities to do good to man." — Dymond's Essay 3, cap. 2. 
 
 t " Political power (says Dymond) is rightly possessed only when it is 
 possessed by the consent of the community." — Ibid. 
 
 The doctrine of the essential sovereignty of the people, and the delegated 
 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 remains funda- 
 mentally, and cannot be taken from them without a violation of their natural 
 birthright ; and from hence Aristotle, and the best of political writers, have 
 defined a king, * him who governs to the good and profit of his people, 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 naturally, for their good in the lirst place, 
 and not his own, then may the people, as oft as they shall judge it for the 
 
CHAP, XXV.] Cicero's offices. 45 
 
 a cominunitj 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 amongst 
 the Athenians, and in our government not only seditions 
 but the most destructive wars, which every worthy and brave 
 oitiz(;n who deserves to rise in the state will 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 oi 
 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 offence 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 
 direct 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 directed 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.* 
 
 best, either choose him or reject him, retain him or depose him, though 
 no tyrant, merely by the liberty and right of free-born men to be governed 
 as seems to them best. This, though it cannot 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, and shalt say, I will set a king over 
 me, like as all the nations about me.' — Deut. xvii. 14. These words confirm 
 us that the right of choosing, yea of changing their own government, is by 
 the grant of God hunself in the people." — Ibid. 
 
 * It is impossible not to remark how far the popular standard of duty, 
 and the modem laws of honour, fall below this high and almost Christian 
 morality of Cicero. 
 
46 Cicero's offices. Fbook i 
 
 Nay, amidst 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 preferring to us 
 unreasonable requests. Yet this politeness and moderation 
 ought to be so tempered, that for the sake of the interests of 
 the state severity should be employed, otherwise public 
 business could not be carried on. Meanwhile, all reprimands 
 and punishments ought to be inflicted without abuse, without 
 regard 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 offence,* 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 ;■]• and it were 
 to be wished that they who preside in government were like 
 
 * " 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 con- 
 fusion of remissness and severity, as can scarcely be believed to have been 
 produced by public wisdom, sincerely and calmly studious of public 
 happiness." — Dr. Johnson. 
 
 + "Be ye angry, and sin not;" therefore, all anger is not sinful ; I 
 suppose because some degree of it, and upon some occasions, is inevitable. 
 It becomes sinful, or contradicts, however, the rule of scripture, when it ia 
 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 exerted 
 in revenge, arise, indeed, many of the evils to which the life of man ia 
 exposed. By anger operating upon power are produced the subversion oi 
 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 vigour foi 
 want of the same concurrent opportunities." — Dr. Johnson. 
 
THAT. XXVI.J CICERO'S OFFICES. i7 
 
 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 attri- 
 bute, and that uniform expression of countenance and appear- 
 anc3 which we find recorded of Socrates, and also of Caius 
 Laelius. Though Philip of Macedon was excelled by his sou 
 in his achievements and his renown, yet I find him superior 
 to him in politeness and goodness of nature ; the one, there- 
 fore, always appeared great, while the other often became 
 detestable. So that they appear to teach rightly, who admo- 
 nish us that the more advanced we are in our fortune the 
 more affable ought we to be in our behaviour. Panaetius 
 tells us his scholar and friend, Africanus, used to say, that 
 as horses, grown unruly by being in frequent engagements, 
 are delivered 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 phi- 
 losophy, 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 errors in conduct; because, when men are 
 once blown up with idle conceits, they are exposed to igno- 
 minious ridicule and led into the greatest mistakes. So mucli 
 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 f. 
 
 affairs ; or, being thrown into a middle state, between phi 
 losophers and those who govern the state, have amused 
 themselves with the management of their private fortune, 
 without swelling it by all manner of means, not debarring 
 their friends from the benefit of it, but rather, when occasion 
 calls upon them, sharing it both with their friends 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 generosity and humanity. 
 The man who observes those rules may live with magni- 
 ficence, with dignity, and with spirit, yet with simplicity 
 and honour, and agreeably to (the economy of) human 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 -^jtov. Now, its quality 
 is such that it is indiscernible from the lionestum ; for what- 
 ever is graceful is virtuous, and whatever is virtuous is 
 graceful. 
 
 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 speak 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 faulter, 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 ungraceful. 
 
 This, therefore, which I call gracefulness, is a universal 
 
CHAP. XXVail.] CICERO S OFFICES. 49 
 
 property of virtue, and a property that is self-evident, and 
 not discerned bj any profundity of reasoning ; for there is a 
 certain 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, 
 cannot be separated from health, so the whole of that grace- 
 fulness 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 twofold : for there is a general 
 gracefulness that is the property of all virtue, and that in- 
 cludes another, which is fitted to the particular divisions of 
 virtue. The former is commonly defined to be that grace- 
 fulness that is conformable to that excellence of man, in 
 which he differs from other sentient beings ; but the special, 
 which is comprised under 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 Obbtrve that gracefulness to be when 
 a person speaks and acts in that manner which is most 
 becoming his character. Thus if JEacus or Minos should 
 say : — 
 
 Or- 
 
 Let them hate me, so they fear me 
 
 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, con- 
 sider what is proper and what is becoming, even in the vicious: 
 but as nature herself has cast to us our parts in constancy, 
 moderation, temperance, and modesty; as she, at the same 
 time, instructs us not to be unmindful how we should 
 
 E 
 
50 Cicero's offices. [kook i. 
 
 behave to mankind, the effect is, that the extent both of that 
 gracefulness which is the general property of all virtue, and 
 of that particular gracefulness that is adapted to every species 
 of it, is discovered. For as personal beauty, by the sym- 
 metrical disposition of the limbs, attracts our attention and 
 pleases the eye, by the harmony and elegance with which 
 each part corresponds 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 
 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.* The dictate of justice is to do no 
 
 * Justice and moral susceptibility.'] Orig. Justiciam et verecundlam. 
 This is a very fine passage, and deserves to be explained. Verecundia is com- 
 monly translated bash fulness or modesty ; but in the sense of our author here, 
 neither of those two words will do ; nor am 1 sure tliat 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 supplies the place of, 
 and sometimes controls, the law. i\Iany 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 pcenam impedit. 
 To this Agamemnon replies, 
 
 Ag. Quod non vetat lex, hoc vetat fieri pudor. 
 Pijr. " No law exempts a captive from the sword." 
 Ag. " Where the law does not, moral duties bind." 
 Our author inculcates the same principle in many other parts of his works ; 
 and it was afterwards admitted by Justinian into his Institutes. " Fide com- 
 missa appellata sunt, quia nuUo vinculo juris, sed tantum pudore eorum qui 
 rogabantur,continebantur." "Deeds of trust were so called, because the party 
 entrusted was not obligated by law, but by conscience 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. 
 " Nor justice yet had fled from human crimes, 
 Of all their godheads she the last remained ; 
 For awful conscience, in those hai)py times, 
 Ruled without fear, and without force restrained." 
 
CHAP. XXVIII.] CICERO S OFFICES. 61 
 
 wrong; that of moral susceptibility is to give no offence to 
 mankind, and in this the force of the graceful is most per- 
 ceptible. 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 an agreement with and conservation of our nature ; and 
 if we follow it as a guide we never shall err, but shall attain 
 
 Verecundia or pudor, therefore, is properly an inward abhorrence of 
 moral turpitude, through which the conscience is awed, and may be said to 
 blush. Plato, and from him Plutarch, makes justice and this verecundia 
 to be inseparable companions, " God (says the former) being afraid lest 
 the human race should entu-ely perish upon earth, gave to mankind jus- 
 tice and moral susceptibility, those ornaments of states and the bonds of 
 society." 
 
 It is on the possession of this moral susceptibility, anterior to and inde- 
 pendent of human laws, that Bishop Butler founds his ethical system. 
 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 " he 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, '^ yoior obligation to obey this law is its being the law of yoiu" 
 nature. That your conscience apjoroves of and attests to such a course of 
 action is itself alone an obligation. Conscis:;nce does not only offer itself to 
 show us the way we should Avalk in, but it likewise carries its own authority 
 with it, that it is oiu: 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, ^vithout 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 originallaw, conformable 
 to reason and to nature, diffused over all, invariable, eternal, Avhich calls to 
 the fulfilment 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 cannot be abolished or curtailed, nor affected in its sanc- 
 tions by any law of man. A whole senate, a whole people, cannot 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 pre- 
 sent, and in ages to come; but in all times and in all nations, it is, and has 
 been, and will be, one and everlasting — one as that God, its great Author 
 and promulgator, who is the common sovereign of all mankind, is himself 
 one. No man can disobey it without flying, as it were, from his own bosom 
 and repudiating his nature, and in this very act will inflict on himself the 
 severest of retributions, even though he escape what is commonly regaa-ded 
 as punishment." 
 
 E 2 
 
52 Cicero's offices. |_book i. 
 
 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.* But the chief force 
 of the graceful lies in that suitableness of which I am now 
 treating. For not only those emotions of a physical kind, 
 but stiU more those of the mind are to be approved as they 
 are conformable to nature. For the nature and powers of 
 the mind are two-fold ; one consists in appetite, by the 
 Greeks called Of/xrj, (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 
 anything for which we cannot 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 wiU 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, 1 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 loolis 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 
 gtudies that are important and sublime. Sport and merriment 
 
 * 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 despatched 
 our weighty and important affairs. Nay, our very manner 
 of joking should be neither wanton nor indecent, but genteel 
 and good-humoured. For as we indulge boys not in an 
 unlimited licence 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-humoured. 
 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- 
 tinction, 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 everything to 
 amusement, and that, after being elevated by pleasure, we 
 do not sink into some immorality. Our Campus Martins, 
 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 
 excellence of man's nature above that of the brutes and all 
 other creatures. They are insensible to everything 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 pleasure, he yet, through a principle 
 of shame, hides and disguises his inclination for it. 
 
 From this we are to conclude that mere corporeal pleasure 
 
54 (CICERO'S OFFICES. [bOOK L 
 
 is unworthy the excellency 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 excellency and dignity of our nature, we 
 should then be made sensible how shameful it is to melt 
 away in pleasure, and to live in voluptuousness and effemi- 
 nacy ; and how noble it is to live with abstinence, with 
 modesty, with strictness, and sobriety. 
 
 We are likewise to observe, that nature has, as it were, 
 endowed us with two characters. The first is in common to all 
 mankind, because all of us partake in that excellency of 
 reas«^n, 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 contemporaries, 
 Marcus Scaurus, and young Marcus Drusus, there was a 
 remarkable seriousness ; in Caius Laelius 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 
 s7§ojv. On the other hand, Pythagoras and Pericles, without 
 any gaiety, attained the highest authority. Amongst the 
 Carthaginian generals, Hannibal, we learn, was crafty, and 
 Quiutus Maximus amongst 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 Pherae, 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 
 
OHAP. XXXI.] Cicero's offices. 55 
 
 those characters, the tempers of many others are plain and 
 open. Lovers of truth and haters of deceit, thej think that 
 nothing should be done by stealth, nothing by stratagem ; 
 while others care not what they suffer themselves, or whom 
 they stoop to, provided they accomplish their ends ; as we 
 have seen Sylla and Marcus Crassus. In which class Lysander 
 the Lacedemonian, we are told, had the greatest art and per- 
 severance, and that Callicratides, who succeeded to Lysander i ii 
 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 Mucins Mancia. I have heard from men older tlian 
 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. Innumerable, but far from being blame- 
 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 grace- 
 fulness 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 thw^art 
 nature, or to aim at what you cannot attain. We therefore 
 may have a still clearer conception of the graceful I am 
 recommending, from this consideration, that nothing is grace- 
 ful that goes (as the saying is) against the grain, that is, iii 
 contradiction and opposition to nature. 
 
 If anything 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.* 
 
 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 tlie same predicament. For was the 
 predicament of Marcus Cato different from that of those 
 who surrendered themselves to Caesar in Africa? Yet it 
 had been perhaps blameable in the latter, had they put them- 
 selves to death, because their lives were less severe, and their 
 moral natures more pliable. But it became Cato, who had 
 by perpetual 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 .f 
 
 * " Decency, or a proper regard to age, sex, character, and station in the 
 world, maybe ranked among the qualities which are immediately agreeable 
 to others, and which by that means acquire praise and approbation. An 
 effeminate behaviour 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 abounded in comic beauties, 
 or a comedy in tragic. The disproportions hurt the eye, and convey a dis- 
 agreeable sentiment to the spectators, the source of blame and disappro- 
 bation. This is that indecorum which is explained so much at large by 
 Cicero in his Offices." — Hume's " Principles of Morals," sec. 8. 
 
 f The guilt of suicide has been palliated by Godwin, and utterly denied 
 by Hume. The following remarks emanated from a sounder moralist 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 favour ; 
 frequency of repetition diminishes the sensation of abhorrence, and makes 
 succeeding sufferers resort to it with less reluctance." " Besides which 
 general reasons, says Dr. Paley, (' Moral and Political Philosophy,' b. 4, 
 c. 3,) each case will be aggravated by its own proper and particular conse- 
 quences ; 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 tnere are many things which it does not forbid, but which every one 
 knows to be wicked. But in reality it does forbid it. Every exhortation 
 
CHAP. XXXI. "] CICEKO'S OFFICES. 57 
 
 How various were those sufferings of Ulysses, in liis 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 indig- 
 nities. 
 
 In the contemplation of which each ought to consider 
 what is peculiar to himself, and to regulate those peculiari- 
 ties, without making any experiments how another man's 
 become them ; for that manner winch 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 
 unsuitable to our genius, let us employ all our care, attention, 
 
 which it gives to be patient, 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 reject* 
 every such advice 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 sufi^erings, whilst 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, 1 think, gives no countenance to the suppo- 
 sition that suicide can be approved by the Deity, because 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, whilst he incurs a load of guilt, 
 cuts off by the act the power of repentance." — Dymond's Essays, Essay ii. 
 chap. 16. 
 
58 CICERO's OFFICES. [BOOK 'l. 
 
 and industry, in endeavouring to perform them, if not with 
 propriety, with as little impropriety as possible : nor should 
 we strive so much to attain excellencies which have not been 
 conferred 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, 
 honours, dignities, riches, interest, and whatever are the 
 qualities contrary 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 philosophy, some to the civil law, and some to elo- 
 quence ; and of the virtues themselves some endeavour 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 Mucins, 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 equalled his father in the duties 
 of the field, but added to them the glory of genius and 
 learning. 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 descended from obscure ancestors, purpose to them- 
 selves great aims. 
 
 In our search, then, after what is graceful, all those parti- 
 culars 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, when 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.* 
 
 * " I have often thought those happy that have been fixed, from the first 
 
CHAP. XXXni.] CICEKO'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 di-awn 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 thi'ough 
 some good fortune, or a certain excellency of nature, or 
 through the trainins: of their parents, pursue the right path 
 of Kfe^ 
 
 XXXIH. The rarest class is composed of those who, 
 endowed with an exalted genius, or with excellent educa- 
 tion and learning, or possessing both, have had scope enough 
 for deliberating as to what course of life they would be 
 most willing to adopt. Every design, in such a delibera- 
 tion, ought to be referred to the natural powers of the indi- 
 vidual ; for since, as I said before, we discover this propriety 
 in every act which is performed, 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 Kfe 
 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 oi 
 one Tvhose authority may preclude caprice, and whose influence may pre- 
 judice them in favom- 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 re- 
 solution can be fixed ; if any other indications are to be found, they may, 
 perhaps, be very early discerned. At least, if to miscarry in an attempt be 
 a proof of ha\ing mistaken the direction of the genius, men appear not less 
 frequently deceived with regard to themselves than to others ; and there- 
 fore 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 honour 
 or happiness, by being abandoned to the 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 
 tilings, becomes 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 ■ 
 favourable, 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 suddenly 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 African us, 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 practise 
 justice, honour, generosity, modesty, and temperance, that 
 what is wanting may be the less required of him. Now, the 
 bf;st 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. 
 
 XXXIY. 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 amongst 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. J Cicero's offices. 61 
 
 of the aged. Above all things, the young man ought to ha 
 restrained from lawless desires, and exercised in endurance 
 and labour 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 them- 
 selves up to mirth, they ought to avoide intemperance, and 
 never lose sight of morality ; and this will be the more easy 
 if even upon such occasions they desire that their elders 
 should be associated wdth them.* 
 
 As to old men, their bodily labours seem to require diminu- 
 tion, but the exercises of their mind ought even to be increased. 
 Their care should be to assist their friends, the youth, and 
 above all their country, to the utmost of their ability by their 
 advice and experience. Now there is nothing that old age 
 ought more carefully to guard against, than giving itself up 
 to listlessness and indolence. As to luxury, though it is 
 shameful in every stage of life , in old age it is detestable ; 
 but if to that is added intemperance in lawless desires, the 
 evil is doubled ; because old age itself thereby incurs dis- 
 grace ; and makes the excesses of the young more shameless. f 
 
 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 represents 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 
 
 * 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 gaiety 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. 
 
 t " 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 knowledge 
 is the consequence of long life, however idly and thoughtlessly employed, 
 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 V' — 
 Dr. Johnson. 
 
62 ClCERO's OFFICES. [bOOK I. 
 
 committed to his fidelity.* As to a privater man and citi- 
 zen, his duty is to live upon a just and equal footing with 
 his fellow citizens, neither subordinate and subservient nor 
 domineering. In his sentiments of the public to be always 
 for peaceful and virtuous measures ; for such we are ac- 
 customed to imagine and describe a virtuous citizen. 
 
 Now the duty of a stranger and an alien is, to mind no- 
 thing 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 prac- 
 tice of the moral duties, when we inquire after what is most 
 becoming and best fitted to persons, occasions, and ages ; and 
 nothing is more becoming 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 an.d actions, nay, in 
 every motion and disposition of our person, and consists of 
 three particulars, beauty, regularity, and appointment suited 
 to action (ideas which indeed are difficult to be expressed, 
 but it is sutlicientif they are understood); and as in these three 
 heads is comprehended our care to be approved by those 
 amongst 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 ex- 
 posing to the sight all that part of our figure that has a beauti- 
 ful appearance, while she has covered and concealed those parts 
 which were given for the necessities of nature, and which 
 would have been offensive 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 
 
 * Respecting the ultimate possession of political power by the governed, 
 and the consequently delegated power of rulers, we have the following 
 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 
 licence to anarchy and disorder. But the tracing of civil power to that 
 source will not diminish our obligation to obey; it only explains 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 one side, and oppression on the other. It is the polar star 
 that will conduct us safe over the ocean of political debate and specu 
 lation, the law of laws, the legislator of legislators." 
 
xxx\^.] Cicero's offices. 63 
 
 care tliat 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 w^hich is not shameful if 
 privately performed, it is still obscene to describe. There- 
 fore neither the public commission of those things, nor the 
 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, w^e give 
 everything 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 w^alk, 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 wdth 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 r 
 therefore, let a man remove from his person every ornameni 
 that is unbecoming a man, and let him take the same care 0/ 
 
4 CICERO'S OJP'FICES. [bOOK I 
 
 every similar laalt with regard to his gesture or motion. For 
 very often the movements learned in the Palaestra are offen- 
 sive, 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 likev/ise avoid a drawling solemn pace in walk- 
 ing, so as to seem like bearers in a procession ; and likewise 
 in matters that require despatch, 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 o^' 
 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 ail pursuits in which there 
 are learners, and all places are fllied 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. XXXVII.] Cicero's offices. Oo 
 
 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 Cassar, brother to the elder 
 Catulus, exceeded all in wit and humour; 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 labour 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- 
 humoured, without the least arrogance. Let there be plea- 
 santry 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.* But more especially let him consider on 
 what subjects he should speak. If serious, let him use gra- 
 vity ; if merry, good-humour. But a man ought to take the 
 
 * *' As the mutual shocks in society and the oppositions of interest and 
 self-love, have constrained mankind to establish tlie 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-con- 
 ceit, have introduced the rules of good manners or politeness, in order to 
 facilitate the intercourse of minds and an undisturbed commerce and con- 
 versation. Among well-bred people, a mutual deference is affected, contempt 
 of others disguised, authority concealed, attention given to each in his time, 
 and an easy stream of conversation maintained, vpithout vehemence, withovit 
 inteiTuption, without eagerness for victory, and without any airs of superi- 
 ority. These attentions and regards are immediately agreeable to others, 
 ii.bstracted from any consideration of utility or beneficial tendencies ; they 
 
 F 
 
66 Cicero's offices. |_book i. 
 
 greatest care that his discourse betraj 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, ridi- 
 culous, 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 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 propely 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 endeavour to indicate 
 both esteem and love for those we converse with. Re- 
 proaches may sometimes be necessary, in whicli we may per- 
 liaps 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 
 
 conciliate affection, promote esteem, and extremely enhance the merit of 
 the person who regulates his behaviour by them. 
 
 '' In conversation, the lively spirit of dialogue is agreeable even to those 
 who desu-e not to have any share in the discourse. Hence the relater of 
 long stories, or the pompous deelaimer is very little approved of. liut 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,*' Bection viii. 
 
 I 
 
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 
 "^ 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.* 
 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 magni- 
 ficence and elegance. We learn that it was to the honour 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. 
 
 * " The command of anger appears, upon many occasions, not less ge- 
 nerous 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 Phillippics of Demosthenes, the 
 catilinnarians of Cicero derive their \vhole beauty from the noble propriety 
 with which this passion is expressed. But this just indignation is nothing 
 but anger restnJned and properly attempered to what the impatient spec- 
 tator 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 angrv. The nobleness of pardoning appears, 
 upon many occasions, superior even to the most perfect propriety of resent- 
 ing, when either proper acknowledgements have been made by the offending 
 party, or, even Avithout any such acknowledgments, when the public in- 
 terest requires that the most mortal enemies should vmite for the discharge 
 of some important duty. The man who can cast away all animosity, and act 
 with confidence and cordiality towards the person who had most grievously 
 offended him, seems justly to merit om- highest admiration. — Smith's " iloral 
 Sentiments," part vi. section iii. 
 
 F 2 
 
6S CICEKO*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 LucuUus ? 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 labour 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 same 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 svra^ia, not that which we Romans call mode- 
 ration, an expression that implies keeping within bounds ; 
 whereas that is suraj/a, in which the preservation of order is 
 
CHAP. XL.] Cicero's of^-ices. 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 evycapioc, 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 conjecture. 
 
 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 blameable, 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 pr^etor- 
 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- 
 tinguishing times. 
 
 But those actions that are in wide discrepancy with good- 
 breeding, such, for instance, as singing in the forum, or 
 
70 CICERO'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 descernible 
 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 practised 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 of 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 grounds 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, xll] Cicero's offices. 71 
 
 to be under tlie mistake to imagine tliat if Socrates or 
 Aristippus acted or spoke in opposition to tlie manners and 
 civil constitutions of their country, they themselves have a 
 similar licence.* For this was a right they acquired by their 
 
 * There are tivo things in this passage which must excite surprise ; Jhe 
 first, that Cicero should regard those actions as immoral in the generalLj of 
 society which he justifies in the case of two individuals on the sole ground 
 of their intellectual pre-eminence. For this must be the sole ground of the 
 distinction ; inasmuch as, if a moral superiority he 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 adoption of a similar course. The second 
 is, that the customs and institutions of a country should be invested by 
 Cicero with the powers of moral obligation ; nor, considerirjg the general tenor 
 of Cicero's ethics, is this the less surprising, from the fact that in modem 
 times the same pi-inciple was carried by Hobbes 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 insufficiency both of the law of the land, and of that conventional in- 
 fluence which in modern times has been designated the law of honour as a 
 code of morality is admirably shown by Paley in the following passage : — 
 
 " The Law of Honour is a system 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 
 honour, but what tends to incommode this intercourse. Hence this law 
 only prescribes and regulates the duties betwixt equals ; omitting such as 
 relate to the Supreme Being, as well as those which we owe to om- inferiors. 
 For which reason, profaneness, neglect of public worship or private devo- 
 tion, cruelty to servants, rigorous treatment of tenants or other dependents, 
 want of charity to the poor, injuries done to tradesmen by insolvency or 
 delay of payment, with numberless examples of the same kind, are ac- 
 counted no breaches of honour ; because a man is not a less agreeable com- 
 panion for these vices, nor the worse to deal with in those concerns which 
 are usually transacted between one gentleman and another. Again ; the 
 law of honour, being constituted by men occupied in the pursuit of plea- 
 sure, 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, favourable to the licentious indulgence of the natural passions. 
 Thus it allows of fornication, adultery, drunkenness, prodigality, duelling, 
 and of revenge in the extreme; and lays no stress upon the virtues opposite 
 to these. 
 
 " That part of mankind, who are beneath the law of honour, often make 
 the Law of the Land their rule of life; that is, they are satisfied with them- 
 selves, 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, labours under the two following defects : — 1. Human laws 
 omit many duties, as not objects of compulsion; such as piety to God, bounty 
 to the poor, forgiveness of injuries, education of children, gratitude to bene- 
 factors. The law never speaks but to command, nor commands but where 
 
72 Cicero's offices. ' LBOOK 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 honour, 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 towards 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 labour; 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 labourers 
 are by their profession mean. For a workshop can contain 
 nothing befitting a gentleman. Least of all are those trades 
 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 
 
 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 unpunished, many crimes, because they are incapable of 
 being defined by any previous description. Of which nature are luxury, 
 prodigality, partiality in voting at those elections in which the qualifications 
 ?f the candidate ought to determine the success, caprice in the disposition 
 jf men's fortunes at their death, disrespect to parents, and a multitude ''" 
 -limilar examples." — " Moral and Political Philosophy," book i. caps. 2&3. 
 
 I 
 
CHAP. XLin.J CICEEO'S OFFICES 73 
 
 please, perfumers, dancers, and the whole tribe of games- 
 ters.* 
 
 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 honourable 
 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 harbour, shall from 
 the harbour 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 consituent parts of 
 virtue., Now it often may happen that an emulation and 
 a contest may arise amongst things that are in themselves 
 virtuous ; — of two virtuous actions which is preferable. A 
 division that Panaetius has overlooked. For as all virtue is 
 the result of four qualities, prudence, justice, magnanimity 
 and moderation; so in the choice of a duty, those qualities 
 must necessarily come in competition with one another. 
 
 I am therefore of opinion that the duties arising from thb 
 social relations are more agreeable to nature than those that 
 
 * There is perhaps no passage in this Avork more short-sighted and ridi- 
 culous 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 natm-e 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 OAvn fundamental principle, by affirm- 
 ing that immorality and not morality is necessary to the happiness of man- 
 kind. 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, Avithout 
 leaving Rome, with those fishennen and that tent-maker "of whom the 
 world was not worthy," and through them with that Being in whose sight, 
 amidst all the irregularities of time, " the rich and the poor meet together." 
 
74 ClCERO'S OFFICES. [bOOK I. 
 
 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 cro^ia, for by that sagacity 
 which they term (ppovrjo-is we understand quite another things 
 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 human, 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 perspi- 
 cuous 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 perferable 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. 
 
 XLIY. But some have employed their whole lives in the 
 pursuits of knowledge, and yet have not declined to contri- 
 bute to the utility and advantage of men. For they have 
 even instructed many how they ought be better citizens and 
 
CHAP. XLIV.] CICERO*S OFFICES. 75 
 
 more useful to their country. Thus Lysis the Pythagorean 
 educated Epaminondas of Thebes, as did Plato Dion of 
 Syracuse, and so of many others ; and as to whatever ser- 
 vices I have performed, if I have performed any to the state, 
 I came to it after being furnished and adorned with know- 
 ledge by teachers and learning. 
 
 Nor do those philosophers only instruct and educate those 
 who are desirous of learning while alive and present amongst 
 us ; but they continue to do the same after death, by the 
 monuments of their learning ; for they neglect no point that 
 relates to the constitution, the manners and the morals of 
 their country; so that it appears as if they had dedicated all 
 their leisure to our advantage. Thus while they are them- 
 selves devoted to the studies of learning and wisdom, they 
 make their understanding and their skill chiefly available to 
 the service of mankind. 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 expression ; the reason is, because 
 thought terminates in itself alone, but discourse affects 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 tliink- 
 ing 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 know- 
 ledge. 
 
 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 cannot without the 
 help of others supply what our nature requires; and that if we 
 could be furnished, as by a kind of magic wand, with every 
 thing that relates to food and raiment, that then every man 
 of excelling genius, laying aside all other occupations, would 
 
76 Cicero's offices. [book i. 
 
 apply himself to knowledge and learning. The fact is not 
 so ; for he would fly from solitude and look out for a com- 
 panion in his pursuits ; 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. 
 
 XLY. 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 undertake such things, even to serve his country, nor 
 would his country undertake them to serve herself. But 
 it fortunately happens, that there never can be a conjunc- 
 ture, 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 grada- 
 tions. 
 
 From these arguments thus briefly stated we perceive 
 that men are sometimes not only in doubt, whether a thing 
 is virtuous or disgraceful ; but likewise when two virtuous 
 things are proposed, which is more so. This head, as I said 
 before, was omitted by Pan£etius. Let us now proceed to 
 v/hat remains of our subject. 
 
 I 
 
CHAP. Ll 
 
 BOOK n. 
 
 ^Makcus, irr Sox, 
 
 I thixe: I have in the former Book sufficiently explained 
 in what manner our duties are derived from morahry, and 
 every kind of virtue. It novr 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 ali-eady 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 premising 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 wi'iting, jet I sometimes 
 am apprehensive, that the name of philosophy is oiFensive to 
 some worthy men, and that they are siu'jmzed 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 
 mv attention and thought. But when the government was 
 engrossed by one person, when there was an end of all public 
 dehberation and authority ; when I in short had lost those 
 excellent patriots who were my assciates in the protection of 
 my country, I neither abandoned myself to that anguish of 
 spirit which, had I given way to it, must have consiuned me, 
 nor did I indulge those pleasui'es 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 wa.=; not to alter but to destrov it I For then I would first 
 
78 Cicero's offices. [book n. 
 
 as I was wont to do when our government existed, have em- 
 ployed mj labours in action rather than in writing ; and in 
 the next place, in my writings I should have recorded my 
 own pleadings as I had frequently done, and not such subjects 
 as the present. But when the constitution, to which all my 
 care, thoughts, and labour 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 honourably be laid aside by betaking myself 
 anew to philosophy, having, when young, spent a great deal 
 of my time in its study, with a view to improvement. When 
 I afterwards 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 writ- 
 ing, 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 know not what he can think deserving of 
 esteem. 
 
 For if we seek the entertainment of the mind, or a respite 
 from cares, what 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 we see that none of the most inconsiderable are without it, 
 is the language of men who speak without consideration, and 
 AA ho mistake in the most important matters. Now if there is any 
 
CHAP. 111.] 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 my intention was only to 
 explain the reasons why, being divested of all offices of 
 state, I choose to apply myself to this study preferably 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 
 wandering in the midst of uncertainty and never has any- 
 thing to pursue. For if we abolish all the rules, not only of 
 reasoning but of living, what must become of reason, nay of 
 life itself ? For my own part, while others maintain 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 ? Now all subjects are disputed by our sect, because 
 this very probability cannot 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 
 nov7 employed in the study of the oldest and noblest philo- 
 sophy under Cratippus, who greatly resembles those who 
 have propounded these noble principles, yet I was unwilling 
 that these my sentiments, which are so corresponding with 
 your system, should be unknown to you. But to proceed 
 in what I propose. 
 
 Ill- 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 fifth to the forming of a right judgment in any case, 
 if there should appear to be any clashing between the princi- 
 ples I have mentioned, the part assigned to virtue is con- 
 
80 Cicero's offices. [book it. 
 
 eluded, and with that I desire you should be thoroughly ac- 
 quainted. 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 which 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 reduced to this hope, that men may attain the 
 ends they 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 labours contribute somewhat to the 
 service and existence 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 gods 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 
 labour ; 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.] CICEKO'S OFFICES- Hi 
 
 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 art of man. 
 
 lY. 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 beeii given to the human 
 race, or. afterwards 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 labour of man could we have had 
 aqueducts, the cuts of rivers, the irrigation of the land, 
 dams opposed to streams, and artificial harbours ? 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 advantage 
 and convenience could have been realized from the brute 
 creation, had not men assisted ? Men, undoubtedly, 
 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 succour the sick, or constitute the pleasure of the 
 healthy, or supply food and clothing ? 
 
 Polished by those arts, the life of man is so difierent 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 
 
 a 
 
82 CICEIIOS OFFICES. (_BOOK II. 
 
 For to whom is not that self-evident for which Panagtius 
 employs a great many words, that no man, whether he be a 
 commander of an army, or a leader in the state, has ever beec 
 able to perform great and salutary achievements witliout the 
 zealous co-operation of men ? As instances of this, he mentions 
 Themistocles, Pericles, Cyrus, 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 amongst 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 Dicgearchus,* 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 Greeks call 'TraJri, and to render obedient to 
 reason those appetites which they call 6^,aa/. The third 
 property is to treat with moderation and prudence those with 
 
 * Dicearchus, bom in Sicily, and a disciple of Aristotle. 
 
CHAP. Yi.] Cicero's offices. 8o 
 
 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 those who 
 have endeavoured to injure is, 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 favouring breeze, we 
 are carried to the most desirable landing places : when she 
 opposes us, we are reduced to distress. Some, however, of 
 the accidents of fortune herself are more unfrequent ; for 
 
 * " All cannot 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 
 intelligencies, 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 miscalled 
 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 wai-rant 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 pre-ordered course of effects. It 
 is we that ai'e blind, not fortune ; because our eye is too dim to discover the 
 mystery of her effects, we foolishly paint her bhnd, and hood^vink the provi- 
 dence of the Almighty. I cannot justify that contemptible proverb, that 
 fools only are fortunate ; or that insolent paradox, that a "\rise man is out 
 of the reach of fortune ; much less those opprobrious epithets of poets, 
 whore, bawd, and 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 Aviser judgments, who thoroughly understand 
 the justice of this proceeding, and being enriched with higher donatives, 
 cast a more careless eye on these vulgar parts of felicity. It is a most 
 unjust ambition to desire to enuross tlie mercies of the Almighty, nor to be 
 content with the goods of mind without a possession of those of body or 
 fortune : and is an error worse than heresy to adore these complemental and 
 circumstantial pieces of felicity, and undervalue those perfections and 
 essential points of happiness wherein we resemble our Maker," — Sir Thom.'is 
 Browne's " Religio Medici," cap. 17, 18. 
 
84 Cicero's offices. [book ..i. 
 
 instance, in the first place storms, tempests, shipwreciis, 
 ruins, or burnings, which spring from inanimate things ; in 
 the next place, causes blows, bites, or attacks of brutes. 
 Those accidents I say happen more seldom. 
 
 But of the destruction of armies, we have just now seen 
 three different instances,* and often we see more ; the de- 
 struction of generals, as was lately the case of a great and 
 an eminent personage ;'\ together with unpopularity, whence 
 frequently arises the expulsion, the fall, or the flight of the 
 worthiest citizens ; and on the other hand, prosperous events, 
 honours, commands, and victories ; though all those are 
 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 honour 
 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 com- 
 pelled 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 
 
 Meaning the defeat of Pompey at Pliavsalia, of his sons at Munda in 
 Sp^in, ai|d of Scipio in Africa ; all by Julius Caesar. 
 t Pompey the Great. 
 
ClIAF. VII.J CICEKO « 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 are hired by a bribe. 
 
 YII. 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,* 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 affection 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 cannot 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 pov^er 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 honour. For the inflictions of liberty, 
 when it has been suspended, are more severe than if it had 
 been retained. 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 conse- 
 quence, that men fear those very persons by whom they wish 
 to be feared. 
 
 For what judgment can we form of the elder Dionysius ?| 
 
 * Cicero here alludes to the assassination of Coesar in the senate. 
 
 + 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 Piato 
 
8G Cicero's offices. [book n. 
 
 With Avliat pangs of dread was he tortured, when, being 
 fearful even ol' 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 came 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 Avith a drawn sword ; and 
 sent certain of his attendants to search the chests of the 
 ladies, and discover whether they hud 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 connexion; 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 IMacedonians abandon Demetrius, and with 
 one consent betake themselves to Pyrrhus ? And did not the 
 allies of the Lacedaemonians abandon them almost univer- 
 sally when they governed tyrannically, and show themselves 
 unconcerned spectators of the disaster at Leuctra ? 
 
 YIII. 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 
 harbour 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 honour 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, we 
 entirely lost them: for when such cruelties were exer- 
 
CHAT. Yin. 1 CICEEO'S OFFICPZS. 87 
 
 cised upon our felloTV citizens, we ceased to think anything 
 unjust towards our allies. In his 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 bootj. He 
 was followed by a man who, ^Yiih an impious cause and a 
 still more detestable yictory, did not indeed sell the effects of 
 priyate citizens, but inyolyed in one state of calamity whole 
 proyinces and countries. Thus foreign nations being ha- 
 rassed and ruined, we saw IMarseilles,']" the type of our 
 perished constitution, carried in triumph, ^\dthout whose aid 
 oiu' generals who returned from Transalpine wars had neyer 
 triumphed. Were not this the most flagrant indignity the 
 sun eyer beheld, I might recount a great many other atro- 
 cities against our allies. Deseryedly, therefore, were we 
 punished ; for had we not suffered the crimes of many to 
 pass unpunished, neyer could so much licentiousness have 
 been concentrated in one, the inheritance of whose private 
 estate descended indeed 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 spearlj: 
 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 de- 
 
 * Svlla's pretence for taking up arms was to defend the nobility against 
 the encroachments of the commons, headed by Marius, Trhose party Caesr-r 
 re's-ived . — Guthrie . 
 
 + This was a favourite state with the Roman republicans ; but having too 
 inconsiderately shut their gates against and provoked Caesar, he treated it as 
 is here described. — Guthrie. 
 
 :J: Cicero here alludes to the sales of the estates of the Roman citizens 
 made by Sylla ; and which always were, amongst the Romans, carried on 
 under a spear stuck into the ground. The like sales were afterwards made 
 by some of Caesar's party. — Guthrie. 
 
88 CICERO's OFFICES. [liOOK II 
 
 stroy them; but already we have utterly lost our constitution; 
 and, to return to my subject, we have incurred all those 
 miseries, because we chose rather to l)e feared than to en- 
 dear ourselves and be beloved. If this was the case with 
 the people of Rome when exercising their dominion unjustly, 
 what consequences 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 descant upon the means by 
 which we may most readily attain to that endearment which 
 we desire, consistently with fidelity and honour. 
 
 But of this v/e 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. One 
 thing, however, may be considered as certain ; that it is 
 chiefly and indispensably necessary, that we should possess 
 the faithful affections of those friends who love our persons 
 and admire our qualities; for this is the only 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 honours and of the good- 
 will of their fellow citizens ; but the man who is possessed of 
 them is greatly assisted by them in acquiring other advan- 
 tages as well as those of friendship. 
 
 IX. But I have in another book, which is entitled Lgelius, 
 treated of friendship. I am now to speak of fame, though I 
 have already published two books upon that subject :* 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) goodwill may be acquired. This 
 * This treatise is now lost. 
 
CHAP. X.] Cicero's offices. 89 
 
 is ch.i'^^y 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, honour, 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 
 lis 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 pos- 
 sessed of wisdom and of justice combined. For we have 
 confidence in those who we think understand more than our- 
 selves, 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 honourable men, that is, in good 
 men, as to exclude all suspicion of fraud or injury. We 
 therefore think we act safely and properly in entrusting 
 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 sufiBicient of it- 
 self ; but wisdom without honesty is of no effect in inspiring 
 confidence ; because, when we have no opinion of a man's 
 probity, the greater his craft and cunning, the more hated 
 and suspected he becomes ; honest}^, therefore, joined to un- 
 derstanding, will have unbounded power in acquiring con- 
 fidence ; honesty without understanding can do a great deal ; 
 but understanding without 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 CICEKO'S OFFICES. [BOOK Id. 
 
 plies tliat a man may be just but not at the same time pru- 
 dent, there is one kind of accuracy which in disputation 
 refines even upon truth, and another kind, when our whole 
 discourse is accommodated to the understanding of the public. 
 Therefore I here make use of the common terms of discourse, 
 by calling some men brave, some good, others 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 
 everything 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 
 no 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 cannot 
 easily resist. For pleasures, those most charming mistresses, 
 turn aside the greater number of minds from virtue, and most 
 men, when the fires of afiliction 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 down 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 splendour and the beauty o^ 
 virtue ? 
 
 XL This sublimity of soul, therefore, produces the highest 
 admiration ; and above all justice, from which single virtue 
 
CHAr. XI. J Cicero's offices. 91 
 
 men are called good, appears to the multitude as something 
 marvellous. 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 familiarly 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 ex- 
 posed 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 carrjdng of their pursuits, for its influ- 
 ence is so great, that without some grains of it, even they 
 who live by malpractices and villiany could not subsist. 
 For amongst 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 Yiriathus, the 
 Lusitanian, much greater; to whom our armies and our gene- 
 rals yielded ; but whom the praetor Caius Lselius, 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 
 »->nlarge the power of robbers, how great must we suppose 
 
92 CICERO'S OFFICES. [BOOK II. 
 
 It to be amidst the laws and administration of a well-consti- 
 tuted government ? 
 
 XII. It appears to me, that 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 betooiv 
 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 rights 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 capa- 
 ble of attaining under such authority. Justice, therefore, 
 is by all manner of means to be reverenced and practised ; 
 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 investment, 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 Roman history remaining, the memory of 
 
CHAP. XIII. J Cicero's offices. 93 
 
 Tibprius Gracchus, the son of Publius, will be held in honour; 
 but his sons even in life were not approved of by the good, 
 and, being dead, they are ranked amongst those who were 
 deservedly put to death. 
 
 XIII. Let the man therefore who aspires after true popula- 
 rity, 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 j ust what we are (though in this of itself there is 
 very great importance), yet some precepts require to be given 
 as to how we may 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 
 towards 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 A^^ith a firmer resolution, because not only is no envy 
 felt, but favour rather is shown towards that period of life. 
 The chief recommendation then of a young man to fame is 
 derived from military exploits.^ Of this we have many ex- 
 
 * " 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 solu- 
 tion in the seeming paradox, that their pretensions to the characters of vir- 
 tues are few and small. They receive much applause because they merit 
 little. They coidd not subsist without it; and if men resolve to practise 
 war, and consequently to require the conduct which gives success to war,^ 
 they must decorate that conduct ^vith glittering fictions, and extol the mili- 
 tary 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 ap- 
 plause. 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 neighbour in distress, unless the dona- 
 tion 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 vipon applause; it is their vital element and their food, their 
 great pervading motive and reward. Are there, then, amongst the respec- 
 tive virtues such discordances of character, such total ccntrjiriety of nature 
 
94 cicsKo's opFiCEs [book n. 
 
 amples amongst our ancestors, for they were almost always 
 waging wars. Your youth however has fallen upon the time 
 cf a war, in which one party incurred too much guilt and the 
 other too little success. But when in that war Pompey gave 
 you the command of a squadron, you gained the praise of 
 that great man and of his army by your horsemanship, your 
 darting the javelin, and your tolerance of all military labour. 
 But this honour of yours ceased with the constitution of our 
 country. My discourse however has not been undertaken 
 with reference to you singly, but to the general subject. 
 Let me therefore proceed to what remains. 
 
 As in other matters the powers of the mind are far more 
 important than those of the body, so the objects we 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 attach themselves to wise and illustrious men 
 who benefit their country by their counsels. Their frequent- 
 ing 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 com- 
 mended 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 acquired the highest honour from that noble and 
 celebrated prosecution he undertook ; and at an age when 
 even those who exercise themselves are highly applauded (as 
 we are told in the case of Demosthenes), Crassus, I say, at 
 that age showed that he could already do that most success- 
 fully 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 
 
 and essence ? No, no. But how then do you account for the fact, that 
 whilst all other great virtues are independent of public praise and stand 
 aloof from it, the military virtues can scarcely exist without it ? " — 1)/- 
 mond's " Essay on Morals." 
 
CHAP. XIV. J Cicero's offices. 95 
 
 power, aiFability and politeness in conversation have to win 
 tlie affections of mankind. There are extant letters from 
 Philip, from Antipater, and from Antigonus, three of the wisest 
 men we meet with in historj, to their sons Alexander, Cas- 
 sander, and Philip, recommending to them to draw the minds 
 of the people to kindly sentiments by a generous style of 
 discourse, and to engage their soldiers by a winning address. 
 But the speech which is pronounced in debate before a mul- 
 titude often carries 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 wisdom than the rest of mankind. But 
 should this eloquence have in it dignity combined with mo- 
 desty, 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 two-fold, for it consists of accusation and defence. 
 Of those, though the latter is preferable in point of honour ; 
 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 Norba- 
 nus, 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,* as the two Lu- 
 
 * The du-ect approbation and inculcation of revenge on the part of an- 
 cient morahsts constitutes the point at which the authorities on Christian 
 ethics most -wddely 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 probability 
 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 enjoin forgiveness. The for- 
 giveness of an enemy is not inconsistent- with the proceedings against him 
 as a public offender; and that the discipline established in religious or civil 
 
96 Cicero's offices. ("book u. 
 
 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 Fufius was dis- 
 played in the impeachment of IManius 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 
 enemies. But still let moderation be observed. For it seems 
 
 societies, for the restraint or punishment of criminals, ought to be upholclen. 
 Jf the magistrate be not tied down with these prohibitions from the execu- 
 tion 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 is 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 and triumphs in 
 the humiliation of an adversary." — Paley's Moral and Political Phi- 
 losophy, 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 oblite- 
 rate But patient meekness takes injuries like pills, not chewing but swal- 
 loAving them down, laconically suffering, and silently passing them over; 
 while angered pride makes a noise, like Homerican Mars, at every scratch 
 of offences. 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 retalia- 
 tions. 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 ways make not an 
 end of evil, but leave hatred and malice behind them. An enemy tJuis 
 reconciled is little to be trusted, as wanting the foundation of love and cha- 
 rity, 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 
 e\ils, to make critical notes upon injuries, and be too acute in their appre- 
 hensions, 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. XIV.] Cicero's offices. ST 
 
 to be the part of a cruel man, or rather scai cely of man at 
 all, to endanger the lives of manj. 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 
 soii to the eminent adept in civil law. 
 
 IMoreover, 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 
 persecution and the ruin of the good, that eloquence which 
 nature has given us for the safety and preservation of man- 
 kind. Although, 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,* which I should not, especially as I am now 
 treating of philosophy, venture to write, were it not likewise 
 the opinion of a man of the greatest weight among the Stoics, 
 
 * Two of the most enninent 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 parables, 
 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 denying 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 instances, no con- 
 fidence is destroyed, because none was reposed; no promise to speak the 
 truth is violated, because none was given, or understood to be given." — 
 Paley's Moral and Political Philosophy, book iii. chapter xv. 
 
 In refutation of this view, Dymond suggests the following considerations: 
 — " This defence is not very credible, even if it were valid; it defends men 
 from the imputation of falsehood, because their falsehoods are so habitual 
 that no one gives them credit ! 
 
 " But the defence 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 asse- 
 verate. They do not love falsehood for its own sake, and utter it gratu- 
 itously and for nothing. The custom itself, therefore, disproves the argu- 
 ment that is brought to defend it. Whenever that defence becomes valid 
 
 K 
 
f)8 CICERO'S OFFICES. [liOOK 11. 
 
 Panaetiiis. But it is by defences that glory and favour 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 1 myself have done both in other cases 
 frequently, and when a youth in defence of Sextus Roscius 
 Amerinus, against the influence of Lucius Sylla, then in 
 power, which speech, as you know, is extant. 
 
 XV. But having explained the duties of young men, 
 which avail to the attainment of glory, we have next to 
 speak about beneficence and liberality, the nature of which is 
 twofold; for a kindness is done to those who need it, by 
 giving either our labour or our money. The latter is easier, 
 especially to a wealthy person ; but the former is the more 
 noble and splendid, and more worthy of a brave and illus- 
 
 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 cannot easily separate them. The jury 
 know that some of the pleader's statements are true, and these they believe. 
 Now he makes other statements with the same deliberate empliasis; 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 cannot 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 manifest. 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 de- 
 cides the question. The decision should not be con ealed — that the advo- 
 cate who employs untruths in his pleadings, does i^ally and most strictly 
 lie. 
 
 "And even if no one ever did believe an advocate, his false declarations 
 would still be lies, because he always ' professes to speak the truth.' Tiiis 
 indeed is true upon the Archdeacon's own shomng; for he says, ' Whoever 
 seriously addresses his discourse to another, tacitly promises to speak the 
 truth.' The case is very different from others which he proposes as pa- 
 rallel — ' parables, fables, jests.' In these, the speaker does not profess to 
 state facts. But the pleader does profess to state facts. He intends and 
 endeavours 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 Essays on the Principles of Morals, Essay ii. 
 chapter v. 
 
CHAP. XV.] CICEKO'S OFFICES. 99 
 
 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 on many. But they who will be beneficent 
 and liberal of their labour, that is, of their virtue and 
 industry, in the first place, will have by how much greater 
 the number of persons they shall have served, 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 
 labour and industry is both the more honourable, 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 ge- 
 nerosity. Xow, what is more absurd than to bring it to pass 
 that you can no longer do that which you would willingly do ? 
 And moreover, rapine follows profuseness. For when, by 
 giving, they begin to be in want, they are forced to lay their 
 hands upon other men's property. Thus, when, for the sake 
 of procuring goodwill, they mean to be beneficent, they ac- 
 quire not so much the afiection of those to whom they give 
 H 2 
 
100 CICEHO*S OFFICES. [bOOK IT. 
 
 as tlie hatred of those from whom they take. Wherefore, 
 cur purse should neither be so closed up that our generosity 
 cannot 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 accustomed to receive, and other persons, are desiring 
 the same thing ? 
 
 XVI. There are two kinds of men who give largely, of 
 whom one kind are 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 at 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,* 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 
 
 • About three pounds sterling. 
 
CHAP. XVII. J Cicero's offices. 101 
 
 the very deliglit of the multitude is for a brief and little 
 space, and only felt by the most giddy, even in whom, how- 
 ever, at the same time with the satiety, the memory of the 
 pleasure likewise dies." He sums up well, too, that " these 
 things are agreeable to boys, and silly women, and slaves, 
 and freemen very like slaves ; but that by a man of sense, 
 and 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, and even 
 now in the good times, that the splendour of sedileships* 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 sedile with the most magnificent enter- 
 tainment; and, a little while after, Lucius Crassus, with 
 Quintus Mucins, the most moderate of all men, served a most 
 magnificent aedileship ; and next, Caius Claudius, son of 
 Appius ; many subsequently — the Luculli, Hortensius, Sila- 
 nus ; but Publius Lentulus, in my consulship, surpasssd all 
 his predecessors. Scaurus imitated him ; but the shows of 
 my friend Pompey, in his second consulship, were the most 
 magnificent 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 asdileship 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, f brought great honour 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 asdile at the time, nor excessive. But it lately brought 
 the greatest honour to our friend Milo, that with gladiators, 
 
 * The ^(liles, among other duties, had the oare of the public shows, 
 to which they were expected to contribute largely out of their private 
 fortunes. 
 
 t To one of the gods. 
 
102 CICERO S OFFICES. [bOOK II. 
 
 liired 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 honours 
 that could be obtained. Cotta said the same, and Curio. 1 
 myself, too, might in some degree boast on this subject ; for 
 considering the amplitude of the honours which I attained 
 with all the votes in my own* year, too — a thing that 
 happened to none of those whom I have just named — the 
 expense of my aedileship 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. Theatres, porticos, new temples, I 
 censure with more reserve for Pompey's sake, but the most 
 learned men disapprove of them, as also this very Panaetius, 
 whom in these books I have closely followed, though not 
 translated ; and Demetrius Phalereus, who censures Pericles, 
 the greatest man of Greece, because he lavished so much 
 money on that glorious vestibule ;t but all this subject I 
 have carefully discussed in those books which I have written 
 upon Government. The whole plan, then, of such largesses 
 is vicious in its nature, but necessitated by particular occa- 
 sions, 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 
 better his fortune without being in any adversity. Our 
 
 * To be Qusestor, ^dile. 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. 
 
 t Of the Acropolis. 
 
CHAP. XVIII. J CICERO S OFFICES. 103 
 
 benignity will require to be more prompt toward the dis- 
 tressed, unless perhaps they merit their distress ; yet from 
 those who desire to be assisted, not that they may be relieved 
 from affliction, 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 endeavour, 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,* we see copiously described 
 in the speech of Crassus. This kind of bounty, therefore, 
 I prefer far before the munificent exhibition of shows. That 
 IS the part of dignified and great men — this of flatterers of 
 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 
 
 * The senatorial. 
 
104 Cicero's offices. book ii. 
 
 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 practise 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 
 honourable way, to get the command over wealth and interest 
 among foreign nations, through their guests. Theophrastus, 
 indeed, writes that Cymon at Athens practised hospitality 
 even towards his brethren of the Lacian tribe ; for that he 
 so directed and commanded his stewards, that all things 
 should be supplied to any of them that should turn aside 
 into his villa. 
 
 XIX. Now, those benefits which are bestowed out of our 
 labour, 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 honours 
 — like all the degrees of rank, so the splendour of this 
 science is extinguished ; and this is the more unmeet on this 
 account, because it has happened at the very time when he* 
 was in existence who far surpassed in this science all who 
 went before, to whom also he was equal in dignity. This 
 labour, 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 
 
 * Servius Sulpicius Ruius. 
 
CHAP. XX.] ClCERO'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, 
 the first rank of civil dignity was given by our ancestors. 
 Of an eloquent man, then, and one willingly labouring, and, 
 what is according to the customs of our forefathers, defending 
 the causes of many, both ungrudgingly and gratuitously, the 
 benefits and patronage are very extensive. 
 
 The subject would admonish me that at this opportunity I 
 should likewise deplore the discontinuance, not to call it the 
 extinction, of eloquence, did I not apprehend lest I should 
 appear to be making some complaint upon my own account. 
 However, we see what orators are extinct, in how few there 
 is promise, in how much fewer ability, in how many pre- 
 sumption. But though all, or even many, cannot be skilful 
 in the law, or eloquent, yet it is in a man's power, by his 
 exertions, to be of service to many, by asking benefits for 
 them, commending them to judges and magistrates, watch- 
 ing the interests of others, entreating 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 dififuses itself most extensively. Furthermore, they 
 need not be admonished 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 un- 
 wittingly 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 unwiUingly of- 
 fend — how that which you did was of necessity, and that 
 you could not do otherwise ; and it wiU be necessary to make 
 compensation to them for what injury you have inflicted by 
 other efforts and good ofiices. 
 
 XX. But since, in rendering services to men, it is usual 
 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 ? For in general our goodwill is more inclined 
 towards him from whom it appears that remuneration would 
 
106 CICERO*S OFFICES. [bOOK II. 
 
 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 cannot 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 it * hath requited." 
 But they who consider themselves wealthy, honoured, pros- 
 perous, do not wish even to be bound by a benefit. More- 
 over, they consider that they have conferred a favour 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 favour 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 perhaps 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 protection offered to themselves : wherefore, I think it 
 better that a favour should be bestowed upon worthy per- 
 sons than upon persons of fortune. We should by all means 
 endeavour to satisfy every description of people. But if the 
 matter shall come to competition, undoubtedly Themistocles 
 is to be received 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 onyc, 
 Indebted and dischare'd " — Milton. 
 
CnAP. XXI.] CICERO S OFFICES. 107 
 
 But our morals are corrupted and depraved by the admi- 
 ration 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 him- 
 self, 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 precept about benefits and bestowing our labour 
 is, do nothing hostile to equity — nothing in defence of in- 
 justice. For the foundation 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 aU means to be made, if possible, to consult for 
 both, and notwithstanding, to consult also for them indivi- 
 dually ; 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 therefore 
 would have exhausted the treasury; that of Marcus Octavius 
 was moderate, both able to be borne by the state, and neces- 
 sary for the commons ; therefore it was salutary both for the 
 citizens and for the nation. But it is in the first place to be 
 considered by him who shall have the administration of the 
 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 exceedingly 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 levelling of property — than which mischief, what 
 can be greater ? For commonwealths and states were estab- 
 
108 Cicero's offices. [book ii. 
 
 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 hope 
 of preserving their own property that they sought the pro- 
 tection of cities. 
 
 Care should also be taken, lest, as often was the case amons: 
 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 
 befal any state (for I would ralher speak thus than speak 
 ominously 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 afterwards 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- 
 
 * Plutarch relates that ^milius Paullus, on the conquest of Persius, 
 king of Macedonia, brought home such an jimmense treasure, that the Ro- 
 man people were entirely relieved from taxes until the consulship of Hir- 
 tius and Pansa, which was the year after Cicero wrote this work. 
 
CHAP. XXn.] CIOKBO'S OFFICES. 109 
 
 peiided, that we are strong through the weakness of others, 
 not through our own valour. 
 
 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 
 destroyed the wealthiest of cities ? He preferred orna- 
 menting Italy rather than his own house — although by 
 the adornment of Italy, his own house itself seems to me 
 more adorned. No vice, then, is more foul (that my dis- 
 course may return to the point from whence it digressed) 
 than avarice, especially in great men and such as administer 
 the republic. 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 nations. Moreover, they who preside over the state 
 can by no way more readily conciliate the goodwill 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 cannot 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 ha whose property is taken is 
 
110 Cicero's offices. [book u. 
 
 hostile ; he also to -whom it is given disguises his willingness 
 to accept it, and especially in lent monies 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 they 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 sue 
 cessful. 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 possessed of none should get, but he who was in posses- 
 sion should lose ? 
 
 XXIII. And on account of this kind of injustice, the 
 Lacedagmonians 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 G-reece 
 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 restjored 
 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 
 tbat these to whom they had belonged should be without satis- 
 
CHAP. XXIV.] Cicero's ofiices. 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. 
 A dmirable man, and worthy to have been born in our nation I 
 Thus it is right to act with citizens, not (as we have now 
 seen twice)* 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 mse and superior man, that 
 it was necessary to consult for aU. 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 ? 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 my money — that you should 
 have the estate, and I should not have my money ? 
 
 XXIY. 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 
 
 * Under Sylla, and under Caesar. 
 
^1 
 
 112 Cicero's offices. [^book ii. 
 
 riglits, and the debtors gain what is another's — for nothing 
 holds the state more firmly together than public credit, 
 which cannot at all exist unless the payment of money lent 
 shall be compulsory. It never was more violently agitated 
 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 
 tins 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,* 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 practised 
 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 Tyrian, a Stoic, who lately died at Athens, considers that 
 two things are passed over by Panaetius — 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 what things 
 are accustomed to do one good or injury f ; and by temperance 
 
 * Csesar, who was suspected of a share in Cataline's conspiracy, after- 
 wards, in the first year Df his dictatorship, when he was himself no longer 
 in debt, passed a law, abolishing the fourth part of all debts. 
 
 t Lord Bacon might be supposed to have had this passage before him 
 
CHAP XXV.] CICEKO'S OFFICES. 113 
 
 in all food and manner of living, for tlie 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 frugality, 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 PansBtius, 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 was 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 usury ?" Then Cato answered, " What do you think of 
 killing a man ?"* From which, and many other things, it 
 
 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 offence 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 yeai-s, and think not to do the same things still ; for age 
 will not be defied." — Bacon's Essays, Thirtieth Essay. 
 
 * " iVlany have made witty invectives against usury. They say that it is a 
 
 I 
 
114 Cicero's offices. [book ii. 
 
 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 monej, about letting it out, also 
 about spending it, the matter is discussed to more advantage 
 by certain most estimable persons* 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. 
 
 pity the devil should have God's part, which is the tithe ; that the usiirer m 
 the greatest sabbath breaker, because his plough goeth every Sunday ; that 
 the usurer is the di-one that Virgil speaketh of : — 
 
 'Ignavum fucos peciis a prnssepibus arcent:* 
 that the usurer breaketh the first law that was made for mankind after the 
 fall which was, 'in sudore vultus tui comedes panem tuum' not *in sudore 
 vultus alien! :' 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 diuritiem 
 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 Essays, Essay 41. 
 
 • He is speaking ironically of the usurei*3, numbers of whom frequented 
 the middle Janus in the forum. 
 
 EHI) O? SrOOKD BOl>K. 
 
CHAP. I.] Cicero's offices. 115 
 
 BOOK III. 
 
 I. PuBLius SciPio, my son Marcus, he who first wa? 
 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 cannot 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 aiFairs 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 honourable 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, and before the eyes of the citizens, now 
 shunning the sight of wicked men, with whom all places 
 abound, conceal myself as far as it is possible, and often 
 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 also 
 from those very evils to gather whatever good is in themj I 
 
 I 2 
 
116 CICERO'S OFFICES. [bOOK IIL 
 
 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, Africanus obtained greater praise. For there are 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 labour 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 all 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 honours — under no smaU 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, labour with your mind and 
 with your industry (if it be labour 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. ni.J CICERO'S OFFICES, 117 
 
 PauEetius, then, wlio 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 had 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 afterwards 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 Pansetius lived thirty years after he had 
 published those books. And I am surprised that this matter 
 should be 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 wag 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 Pansetius, ought to have 
 been taken up, or whether it ought to have been altogether 
 omitted. The other thing cannot be doubted, that it was 
 undertaken by Panaetius, 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 afterwards 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 Panaetius, had been ac- 
 customed to say, that as no painter could be found who could 
 finish 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 Panaetius had omitted, on 
 account of the excellence of those parts which he had com- 
 pleted. 
 
 III. Wherefore, there cannot be a doubt about the opinion 
 
l\S Cicero's offices. [book hi. 
 
 of Pansetius ; 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 
 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 sej)arated in theory those things cohering in nature. 
 To whom, indeed, the Stoics have so far assented, that they 
 considered that whatever is virtuous is useful, and that no- 
 thing can be useful which is not virtuous. But if Panaetius 
 was one who would say that virtue was to be cultivated only 
 on this account, because it was a means of j)rocuring 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 
 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 aU those duties about which we are discours- 
 ing in these books, mean duties (media officia). These are 
 common, and extend widely, which 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 cannot fall to the lot of any 
 but the wise man. But when anything 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- 
 skilful are dehghted with and commend ; on this account, I 
 suppose, that there is in these things some merit which 
 catches the unskilful, 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 in 
 these books, they* 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 towards virtue. Nor, 
 indeed, when the two Decii or the two Scipios are comme- 
 morated as brave men, or when Fabricius and Aristides 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, j 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 towards vir- 
 tue, it cannot be maintained. But these remarks are made 
 
 * The Stoics. 
 
 t The seven v/ise men of Greece- 
 
120 Cicero's offices. [book ni- 
 
 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 Panaetius, 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 is accustomed to be generally considered disreputable, 
 may be found not to be disreputable. For 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 honourable.* 
 
 * '' 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 or 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 ot 
 the prejudices of their times, are now considered as very improper models 
 for imitation." — Hume's " Dissertation on the Passions." 
 
 '* The arguments in favour of tyranniciue 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 ordi- 
 nary operations of jurisprudence. But criminals, by whom the welfare 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 subordi-. 
 nate 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 insufficient to autho- 
 rize 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 in- 
 stance, all the provisions of civil policy being superseded, and justice poi- 
 
CHAi\ lY.] Cicero's orncES. 121 
 
 Has expediency, then, overcome virtue ? Nay, rather, expe- 
 diency has followed virtue. Therefore, 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 for- 
 merly were the same sect, things which are virtuous 
 are preferred to those which seem expedient ; nevertheless, 
 those subjects are more nobly treated of by those * to whom 
 whatever is virtuous seems also expedient, and nothing ex- 
 pedient which is not virtuous, than by those according to 
 
 soned 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 exception 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 appropriate mode of counteracting injustice. For, 
 first, either the nation, whose tjTant you would destroy, is ripe for the as- 
 sertion and maintenance 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 ttie general weal, to be con- 
 ducted 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 
 justice, 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 pro- 
 scribe all violence, and neglect no means of information and impartiality, 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 free- 
 dom, the man who assumes to himself the right of interposing violence, 
 may indeed show the fervour of his conception, and gain a certain noto- 
 riety ; but he will not fail to be the author of new calamities to his coun- 
 try. 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 restored, it produces 
 the same effect upon his successors. In the climate of despotism some so- 
 litary 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. 
 * The Stoics. 
 
122 Cicero's offices. [book hi. 
 
 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 licence, 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 interest 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 wo 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 Avell 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."^' 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, 
 (and all will obey it who are willing to live according to 
 
 * " La plus sublime vertu est negative ; elle nous instruit de ne jamais 
 faire du mai a personne." — Rousseau. 
 
CHAP. V. ] Cicero's offices. IS3 
 
 nature) never will suffer himself to covet vp-hat is another 
 person's, and to assume to himself that which he shall have 
 wrongfully taken from another.* For loftiness and greatness 
 of mind, and likewise community of feeling, justice, and libe- 
 rahtj, are much more in accordance with nature, than plea- 
 sure, than life, than riches — which things, even to contemn 
 and count as nothing in comparison with the common good, 
 is the 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 labours 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 gods | — is more 
 in accordance with nature than to live in solitude, not only 
 without any inquietudes, but even amidst the greatest plea- 
 sures, 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, cannot 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 
 tliinks that death, poverty, pain, the loss of children, of 
 kindred, and of friends, are more to be avoided than doing 
 
 * " 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 fore- 
 thought be also natiural — then may the same epithet be applied to justice, 
 order, fidelity, property, society. Men's inclination, their necessities, 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 refliec- 
 tions conjoined, as soon as we observe like passions and reflections in others, 
 the sentiment of justice, throughout all ages, has infalhbly and certainly 
 had place in some degree or other, in every individual of the human 
 species. In so sagacious an animal, what necessarily arises from the 
 exertion of his intellectual faculties, may justly be esteemed natural." — 
 Himie's " Principles of Morals," Appendix III. 
 
 f Horace adopts the same illustration in the following passage : 
 '' Dignum laude virum Musa vetat mori : 
 Ccelo Musa beat. Sic Jovis interest 
 Optatis epulis impiger Hercules." 
 
 Lib. iv. Carm. 8, ver. 28— 3(.l, 
 
124 Cl'JZaOS OFFICES. [_BOOK Ul, 
 
 injury to another. If he thinks that nothing is done cou- 
 trary to nature by injuring men, what use is there in dis- 
 puting 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. 
 YL 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 absurd. These establish the prin- 
 ciple 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 common society of the human race, which, 
 being withdrawn, beneficence, liberality, goodness, justice, 
 are utterly abolished. But they who tear up these things 
 should be judged impious, even towards the immortal gods ; 
 for they overturn the society established by them among 
 men, the closest bond of which society 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 en- 
 dure 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.* 
 
 * " There is no virtue so truly great and godlike as justice ; most of the 
 other virtues are the virtues of created beings, or accommodated to our 
 nature, as we are men. Justice is that which is practised by God himsftJf, 
 and to be practised in its perfection by none but him. Omniscience and 
 
CHAP. vi.J Cicero'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 anything 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 miich advantage to the state, and to 
 human society if you remain in life, it may not deserve to 
 be reprehended should you wrongfully take anything 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 anything 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 
 contrary to nature, for it is unjust. Therefore, the very law 
 of nature which preserves and governs the interest of men, 
 
 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 extir- 
 pating 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 sei\timent 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 ft 
 as something venerable, holy, and inviolable ; when any of them dare pre- 
 sume 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 hastening 
 to its ruin." — Guardiariy No. 99. 
 
126 Cicero's offices. [book hl 
 
 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 this * 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. f Now, as to what 
 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 
 
 * That is, provided he transfer to himself the necessaries of life from a 
 worthless person. 
 
 + "In a loose and general view," says Godwin, "I and my neighboiir 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 im- 
 portance than the other. A man is of more worth than a beast, because, 
 being possessed of higher faculties, he is capable of a more refined and 
 genuine happiness. In the same manner the illustrious Archbishop of 
 Cambray was of more worth than his valet, and there are few of us that 
 would hesitate to pronoi^nce, if his palace were in flames, and the life of 
 only one of them could be preserved, which of the two ought to be pre- 
 ferred. But there is another ground of preference, besides the private con- 
 sideration of one of them being farther 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 con- 
 ducive to the general good. In saving the life of Fenelon, suppose at that 
 moment he conceived the project of his immortal Telemachus, I should 
 have been promoting the benefit of thousands who have been cured by the 
 perusal of that work of some error, vice, and consequent 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 improvement 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 faculty 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 pre- 
 ferred 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. IL 
 
CHAP. VII.] Cicero's offices. 127 
 
 whom it is a virtue to slaj — 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 everything, 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,* 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 anything 
 else seem probable."!* 
 
 And in the first place, Panaetius 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 him| to 
 say so), but only those things which seemed expedient. But 
 
 * Cratippus, as a Peripatetic, held that virtue was not the only good, 
 but that other things, such as health, &c. 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. 
 
 + Thfft is to say, he does not admit the probability of the correctness of 
 such as Epicurus, or Hieronymus, &c. who held that pleasure, the absence 
 of pain, &c. were worth seeking on their own account 
 
 i Because he was a Stoic. 
 
128 Cicero's offices. lbook iii. 
 
 he often bears testimony that nothing is expedient which is 
 not likewise virtuous — nothing virtuous which is not likewise 
 expedient ; and he denies that any greater mischief has ever 
 attacked 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 intro- 
 duced that opposition which seemed to have, not which has, 
 existence. This part, therefore, thus abandoned, I will com- 
 plete with no help, but, as it is said, with my own forces 
 For there has not, since the time of Panaetius, been anything 
 delivered upon this subject, of all the works which have 
 come to my hands, that meets my approbation. 
 
 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, 
 tnen you are under an obligation not to abandon expediency, 
 but to understand that there cannot 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 cannot 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.* Wherefore, it is an error 
 
 * 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 sufficiently 
 evident," says Dymond, upon the principles which have hitherto been 
 advanced, " 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 observed that 
 this subserviency to the Divine will, appears to be required by the written 
 revelation. That habitual preference of futurity to the present time which 
 
 I 
 
CHAP, IX. I 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. For 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 most severe. Wherefore, 
 this class of sceptics 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 contamina.te 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 -J 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 
 Gyges, who, when the earth had opened, in consequence of 
 
 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 prescribes, it is manifest that 
 those means are to be pursued, whatever we 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 all men most miserable.' And wh\' 
 did they thus sacrifice expediency? Because the communicated will o\ 
 God required that course of life by which human interests were ap- 
 parently 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 respects mankind cannot be properly con- 
 sulted 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 ex- 
 pedient if death were annihilation, may be very inexpedient now. "— 
 Essay on Morality, Essay I. chap. III. 
 
 K 
 
13C . CICERO'S OFFICES. [bOOK IJL 
 
 certain heavy sliowers, 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 assembly 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 everything ; 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.fAnd here some philosophers, 
 and they indeed by no means finworthy 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 anything 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 were 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 they would do, if impunity 
 were offered, what it was their interest to do, 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. 
 X. Many cases frequently occur, which disturb our minds 
 
CHAP. XI.] CICEEO'S OFFICES. 131 
 
 by the appearance of expediency. Not when this is the 
 subject of deHberation, whether virtue should be deserted 
 on account of the magnitude of the profit (for on this, indeed, 
 it is dishonest to dehberate), 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 ^vith 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 pretence of 
 virtue neither probable nor very suitable : therefore, with 
 all due respect to Quirinus or Eomulus,* I 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 remak 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 
 iiilc regarding this entire subject is short and easy. For 
 
 * Romulus, when deified, -was called Quirinus. 
 K 2 
 
132 CICERO S OFFICES. [BOOK* HI. 
 
 those things whicli seem useful — honours, 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 be 
 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 a 
 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 cannot be considered friendships, but 
 rather conspiracies. But I am speaking of common friend- 
 ships ; 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 
 execution 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.] CICEEO*S OFFICES. 133 
 
 conmiit 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 JEg\- 
 netans, who were skilful in naval matters, should be cut off. 
 This seemed expedient ; for -3Egina, 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 Sc^evola, 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 wich 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. Themistocles, after the victory in that war which 
 took place with th^ 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 dis- 
 closed 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 amidst great expecta- 
 tions of the people, and said that the plan which Themistocles 
 
134 Cicero's offices. [book ni. 
 
 proposed was very expedient, but by no means honourable. 
 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 alHes 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 
 necessary 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 dishonourable, but 
 is in doubt whether it be dishonourable. 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 everything should be disclosed, so that the 
 buyer should not be ignorant of anything 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 sell- 
 ing it, not at a higher rate than others, perhaps, he will even 
 say for less, since the supply is increased ; to whom 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 
 
 1 
 
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 anything, 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 tlie other side, be- 
 cause it is 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 Antipater. For if suffering a purchaser to come 
 to loss, and to incur the greatest damage by mistake, be not 
 that which is forbidden at Athens with public execrations, 
 namely, a not pointing out of 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 " a good 
 and well-built country house," are not thought to have prac- 
 Usfd fraud, even though it be neither g«od nor well-built : 
 
136 Cicero's offices. [book hi. 
 
 much less liave 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 practise concealment on 
 the Rhodians, nor this house-seller on the purchasers. For 
 it is not practising concealment if you should be silent about 
 anything ; 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, and what 
 kind of a man will practise 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.* Is it not inexpedient to 
 
 * 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 disclosed 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, at 
 Adam. Smith observes (Theory of Moral Sentiments, iv. 7), " the only rules 
 which are precise and accurate; those of other virtues are vague and inde. 
 terminate. The first may be compared to the rules of grammar; the 
 
CHAr. XIY.] CICERO's OFFICES. 137 
 
 expose ourselves to the imputations of so many vices, and 
 even more ? 
 
 XIY. But if they are to be blamed who have kept silent, 
 what ought to be thought of those who have practised false- 
 hood in words ? Caius Canius, a Eoman knight, not without 
 wit, and tolerably learned, when he had betaken himsell' 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. 
 TMien this had got abroad, one Pythius, who practised dis- 
 counting at Syracuse, told him that he had pleasure-grounds, 
 not indeed for sale, but that Canius was at Kberty to use 
 them as Ms 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 
 folloT\4ng 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-boats before their eyes. 
 Each fisherman for himself brought what he had caught ; the 
 fish were laid before the feet of Pythius. Then Canius says, 
 " What is this, pray, Pjrthias-^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, 
 inflamed with desire, presses Pythius to seU. He is unwill- 
 
 others to the rules which the critics lay down for the attainment of the 
 sublime, which present us rather with a general idea of the perfection Ave 
 ought to aim at, than afford, us any certain and infallible 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 offence against the laws of benevolence and humanity. In this 
 opinion bis ingenious commentator, BarbevTac, fully agrees, and cites the 
 opinion of a strict casuist, La Placette, to the same effect. Had the mer- 
 chant, on his arrival, found the market forestalled by the importation of 
 corn from some other quarter, or had he on the voyage lost ship and cargo, 
 he could not have expected from the Rbodians the reimbursement of his 
 loss. Why then should he not avail himself of a favourable state of the 
 market ? All concur, therefore, in deciding that he was not bound in con- 
 science to a disclosure, " provided merchants do not impose on us, we maj 
 easily dispense them," says Puffendorf, "from all acts of pure liberality." 
 
ic{8 ciCEKo's OFFICES. [book hl 
 
 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 neighbour, was it any 
 holiday with the fishermen, that he saw none of them. "None 
 that I know," said he : " but none use 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, pretence 
 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 anything. 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 Plaetorian 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 ^quius ;" in a case 
 'f trust, the phrase, "ut inter bonos bene agier."* What 
 then ? Can there be any room for fraud either in that 
 transaction which is decreed to be adjusted "better and 
 
 * The Prsetor 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 according to 
 conscience, and used in these decrees a set form of words, " ex fide bon^ 
 agatur," the decisions on this and all other cases in equity came to be 
 called judicia bonae 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 ^q,uius melius. The other formula was usual in cases 
 of trust : it ran thus,— inter bongs bene agier ex sine fraudatione. 
 
CHAP. XVI.] CICEKO'S OFFICES. 139 
 
 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 pretence ; 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 honest 
 man ; they deny that it was of a prudent 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 
 cannot 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 
 Pansetius, 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 pro- 
 perty ; 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 great pains nor thanks are 
 due. But if pretence and dissimulation are criminal de- 
 vices, there are few affairs in which that criminal device 
 may not be employed ; or if a good man is he who serves 
 whom he can, injures nobody — certainly we do not easily 
 find such a good man ; to do wrong, then, is never profitable, 
 because it is always base ; and to be a good man is always 
 profitable, because it is always virtuous. 
 
 XVI. And with respect to the law of landed estates, is it 
 
140 Cicero's offices. "[book in 
 
 ordained among us bj the civil law, that by selling thein, 
 the faults should be declared which were known to the 
 seller. For though by the twelve tables it was sulRcient 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,* and had com- 
 manded Titus Claudius Centumalus, who had a house on the 
 Caslian 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 fathers, so he who 
 begot that luminary ought to be named from his son). This 
 j udge, 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, f However, all mental 
 
 * The Capitoline. 
 
 + A commentator on this passage very justly observes, that "the analogy 
 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 informa- 
 tion related, therefore, to the housie 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 intelhgence which the merchant withheld did 
 not relate to that corn, but was completely extrmsic. Though he might be 
 bound to satisfy the buyer's inquiry by giving a true ^account of that corn, 
 
OHAP. XVII.] CICERO'S OFFICES. 141 
 
 reservations of this kind cannot be comprehended in the civil 
 law ; but those which can are carefully checked. Marcus 
 Marius Gratidianus, our kinsman, sold to Caius 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 : Aotonius 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. 
 
 XYII. 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 ;f 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 ? 
 Though I see that this, on account of the corruption of man- 
 ners, is neither esteemed base in morals, nor forbidden either 
 
 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." 
 
 * A property was said in law, " servire alicui," when some third person 
 had a right of way, or some other such right over it. 
 
 + The duty of the laws is to punish fraud in such overt cases as it cfin 
 lay hold of. The duty of philosophy is to expose by argument the turpi- 
 tude of fraud, even in those cases which, fi-om their subtilty, or from the 
 corruptness of morals, escape the hand of the law, since " reticentiae jure 
 civili omnes comprehendi non possuJ*'' " 
 
142 Cicero's offices. [book m. 
 
 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 
 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 Scgevola, 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.* For prudence consists in the distinguishing of 
 
 ♦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. Cunning 
 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-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 
 
CHAP. XVII. j 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 ^diles ; but the case of heirs is different.* 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.! Nor can there be found in life any greater curse 
 than the pretence of wisdom in knavery ; from which those 
 
 once detected, loses its force, and makes a man incapable 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 instinct that only looks out after our 
 immediate interest and welfare. Discretion is only found in men of strotig 
 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." — Spectator, No. 225. 
 
 * Because an heir, having only just come into possession of the property, 
 consisting of slaves, might fairly be considered ignorant of their evil qualities. 
 
 ■f We have here a singular proof of the facility with which men, even 
 when analysing the nicest moral obligations, may be insensible to the 
 grossest violations of moral fitness involved in the social institutions amidst 
 which they have been educated. In connection with this nice casuistry 
 touching the sale of a slave, it is curious to peruse the following description 
 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 likeAvise forbidden 
 to kill any slave merely for old age or sickness. But supposing 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 practise, 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 m chains were forced to 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 these slaves, like the mustering of a regi- 
 ment or ship's company, in order to know presently when any of them had 
 
144 CICERO S OFFICES. [BOOK IIL 
 
 innumerable cases proceed, where the useful set^.ms to be 
 opposed to the virtuous. For how few will be found who, 
 when promised perfect secrecj and impunitj, 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 Quintus 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 
 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 ; 
 
 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 towards 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 torments. 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 neighbours 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 Essaysj 
 Part ii. Essay 11. 
 
CHAP. XIX.] CICEKO'S OFFICES. M-5 
 
 though I loved one of them when living, and do not hate tlie 
 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 !*) was it fair that these 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 honourable, 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 ail 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 Marcus 
 Crassus, 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 
 constitutes a good man. But if any one would be willing to 
 develop the idea involved in his own mind,t he would at 
 
 * Marcus Satrius, having taken his uncle's name, Lucius Minucius 
 Basilus, was chosen as patron by those districts — he was a partizan 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 Ciesar should be chosen as patron, 
 especially since, as he insinuates in the 2nd Phillippic, it was through fear, 
 not love, he was selected for that honour. 
 
 f The commentator, from whom I have already quoted, gives the follow- 
 ing explanation of this passage. From the Platonic school Cicero seems to 
 L 
 
146 Cicero's offices. [book hi. 
 
 once convince himself that a good man is he who serves 
 v^^hom 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, cannot be a good man. 
 
 When a boy, I learned from my father that Fimbria, the 
 consular,* was judge in the case of Marcus Lutatius Pinthia. 
 Roman knight, a truly honest man, when he had given 
 security, t (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 
 known, anything 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 not disgraceful that 
 philosophers should hesitate about this, which not even 
 rustics doubt — from whom is derived this proverb, which has 
 
 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 innume- 
 rabilium quam quidem Plato recordationem esse vult superioris vitse. Ex 
 quo effici vult Socrates, ut discere nihil aliud sit quam recordari. Nee 
 vero fieri ullo modo posse ut a pueris tot rerum atque tantarum insitas, et 
 quasi consignatas in animis, notiones, quas Ivvoiag 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, tectam et involutam." In the present 
 passage he appears to speak in the same tone, of developing the notion wt 
 have, though indistinctly, in our minds of perfection of moral character. 
 
 * So called to distinguish himi 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 termi- 
 nated his career by suicide. 
 
 f The " sponsio " was a sum deposited in court, or promised Avith 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. CICEKO'S OFFICES. 147 
 
 now become trite througli 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."* 
 T\Tiat 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 fingers ? For as, how much soever 
 that which is base may be concealed, yet it can by no means 
 become morally right (honestum), so it cannot 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 Eome 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 or 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 
 prsetor, 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 
 
 • This play, retained among modem 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 tlie number, mns. Parties, to play it in the dark, must 
 have reliance on each other's w^ord ; hence the proverb. 
 
 l2 
 
148 CICEEO'S OFFICES. BOOK til. 
 
 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 honour. 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 favourite 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 favour 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,* 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, anything 
 of such value, or any advantage so desirable, that for it you 
 would forfeit the splendour 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 ? 
 
 XXI. What ? Are not they who disregard all things up- 
 right and virtuous, provided they can attain power, doing 
 the same as he| who was willing to have even for his father- 
 in-law, that man J by whose audacity he might himself be- 
 
 * Namely, Marcus Marius Gratidianus. 
 
 t Pompey. 
 
 ^ Caesar, whose daughter Julia was sought and obtained in marriage by 
 Pompey, who being, from his great power, suspected of ambitious designs 
 bv the people, with whom Caesar was a favourite, v;ished by the alliance to 
 
CHAP. XXI.] CICEEO'S OFFICES. 149 
 
 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 towards his country, and 
 how base and how useless. But the father-in-law himseli 
 always had in his mouth the Greek verses from the Phce- 
 nissasj* 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 frau- 
 dulent 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.j For he ap- 
 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 
 
 bring a share of the suspicion under which himself laboured upon his rival, 
 and thus to diminish his popularity. 
 
 * E'lTTSp yap ddiKeiv xpt}, TvpavviSog irkpi 
 
 KdWioTov ddiKsiv t' dWa d' ev(7e(5e7.v ;!^p£wv. 
 
 f " We 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 sa- 
 crifice of every noble feeling, to offer to tyranny the homage of our adula- 
 tion ; to say to the murderer of Thrasea Psetus, ' 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 honour of kissing 
 that bloody hand which has been lifted against the helpless; we may do more ; 
 we may bring the altai, and the sacrifice, and implore the god not to as- 
 cend too soon to heaven. This we may do, for this we have the sad remem- 
 brance 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 featm"es to bend 
 themselves to the semblance of that passionate adoration which we wish to 
 express ; owe knees to fall prostrate ; but our heart we cannot 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 crimes still ; 
 and he whom we have made a god is the most contemptible of mankind ; if, 
 indeed, we do not feel, perhaps, that we are ourselves still more couteni])' 
 tible."' — Brown's " Moral Philosophy,-' Lecture Ixxviii. 
 
150 CICERO's OFFICES. LBOOK 111. 
 
 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 
 /or him who can accomplish it ? For, immortal gods ! can 
 the most foul and horrible parricide of his country be ex- 
 pedient 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 so- 
 vereign sway, but, on the contrary, when I begin to recall my 
 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 ? * — " The enemies and traitors to so- 
 vereignty 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, 
 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 
 
 * "Do we think that God has reserved all punishment for another world, 
 and that wickedness has no feelings but those of triiunph 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 hoiirs in 
 which he is seen, darkens to his gloomy gaze that pomp which is splendour 
 to every eye but his ; and that even on earth, avenge with awful retribu- 
 lion, 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 kno / at that 
 very hour what thoughts are present to the conscience of him who doomed 
 him to this sepulchre, 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 honour 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 
 nast, 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 64. 
 
CnAP. XXII.] CICEEO'S CFFTCES. 151 
 
 man to liave 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 
 highest esteem and glor j ? But if these things be not use- 
 ful, 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 P^nrrhus had made aggressive war upon the 
 Eoman 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 
 despatch 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 valour, but by viUainy. 
 Whether was it then more expedient, for Fabricius, 
 who was such 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 cannot be glory; 
 but if power itself is to be sought by any means what- 
 ever, it cannot be expedient when allied to infamy. That 
 proposition, therefore, of Lucius Philippus, the son of Quintus, 
 was not expedient, that those states, which, by a decree of 
 the senate, Lucius Sylla, on receiving a sum of money, had 
 made free, should again be subject to tribute, and that we 
 should not return the money which they had given for their 
 freedom. To this the senate agreed. Disgrace to the em- 
 pire ! For the faith of pirates is better than was the se 
 nate's. But our revenues have been increased by it — therefore 
 it was expedient. How long will people venture to say that 
 
152 Cicero's offices. [^^^^ i^^- 
 
 anything 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? 1 
 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 
 towards 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 orders* 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. 
 
 XXIII. 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 
 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 other ? One, indeed, should yield to the 
 other, namely, to him whose life was of more consequence, 
 
 * The equestrian order, who were the farmers of the revenue, and the 
 senators, who exacted too rigidly the full amount of the contracts, notwith- 
 standing 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 oi 
 Caesar, who procured for them a remission of part of their liabilities. 
 
CHAP. XXIII.] Cicero's offices. 153 
 
 either for liis 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.* Is not our country then paramount to all duties ? Yes, 
 
 * 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 ofTrue Virtue," and William Godwin, in his "Inquiry 
 concerning Political Justice.'' It is the latter who has carried these princi- 
 ples to the greatest extent. Indeed, he appears so far to equalize the rela- 
 tive obligations of mankind as to make gratitude an injvistice, 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 pas- 
 sage contains the strongest statement of Godwin's views on this point. 
 
 " What magic is there in the pronoun ' my ' that should justify us in 
 overtiu-ning 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 infancy.' 
 When he first subjected himself to the necessity of these cares, he was pro- 
 bably influenced by no particular motives of benevolence to his future oflT- 
 spring. Every voluntary benefit, however, entitles the bestower to some 
 kindness and retribution. Why ? because a voluntary benefit is an evidence 
 of benevolent intention, that is, in a certain degree of virtue. It is the dis- 
 position of the mind, not the external action separately tal<en, that entitles 
 to respect. But the merit of this disposition is equal, whether the benefit 
 be bestowed upon me or upon another. I and another man cannot both be 
 right in preferring oiu" respective benefactors, for my benefactor cannot be 
 at the same time both better and worse than his neighbour. My benefactor 
 ought to be esteemed, not because he bestowed a benefit upon me, but be- 
 cause he bestowed it upon a human being. His desert will be in exact pro- 
 portion to the degree in which that human being was worthy of the distinc- 
 tion preferred. 
 
 *' Thus every view of the subject brings us back to the consideration of 
 my neighbour's moral worth, and his importance to the general weal, as the 
 only standard to determine the treatment to which he is entitled. Grati- 
 tude, therefore, if by gratitude we understand a sentiment of preference 
 which I entertain towards 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 benefac- 
 tor, will of course in many instances obtain an uncommon portion of my 
 
i64 CICERO'S OFFTOES. [bOOK 
 
 indeed, but it is advantageous to our country itself to have its 
 citizens affectionate towards their parents. What, if a father 
 should endeavour to usurp tyrannic power, or to betray his 
 country ? Shall the son be silent ? Nay, but he should im- 
 plore 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 will 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 unne- 
 cessary; 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 denarii ? It is plain now, both what is my 
 view, and what is the controversy between those philoso- 
 phers whom I have mentioned. 
 
 XXIY. Are compacts and promises always to be kept,* 
 
 regard : for not being universally capable of discriminating the comparative 
 worth of different men, I shall inevitably judge most favourably 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 1 know, to 
 another who may possess, unknown to me, an essential superiority,' 
 
 " This 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 universal 
 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 approbation ; the erro- 
 neous exercise of this disposition, by which a wrong object is selected, if 
 unavoidable, is to be deplored, but can by no colouring, and under no de- 
 nomination, be converted into right." — Godwin's " PoliticalJustice," vol, i. 
 book ii, chap, ii, 
 
 * Promises are not binding if performance is unlawful. Sometimes men 
 
CHAP. xxiT.] Cicero's offices. 155 
 
 which are made neither by means of force, nor with crimi- 
 nal intent (as the prsetors 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 afterwards 
 use that cure — if by that cure he became well, and in some 
 years afterwards fell into the same disease, and could not 
 ;btain 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 b.is 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 
 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, 
 
 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 "afterwards repented and went," is spoken of with approba- 
 tion, his promise was not binding, because fulfilment 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 hav« regarded it would have been a 
 crime. The offence both of Cranmer and of the son in the parable, con- 
 sisted not in violating their promises but in making them. Respecting the 
 often discussed question, whether extorted promises are binding, there has 
 been, I suspect, a general want of advertence to one important point — what 
 is an extorted promise 1 If by an extorted 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 eays or does, 
 and in such a case a man's promises do not bind him any more than the 
 promises of a man in a fit of insanity. But if by an "extorted " promise It 
 is only meant that very powerful inducements were held out to making it, 
 inducements, however, which did not take away the power of choice — then 
 these promises are in strictness voluntary, and like all other voluntary en- 
 jragements they ought to be fulfilled. — Dymond's " Principles of Morality " 
 chap. 6. 
 
156 CICERO*S OFFICES. FbOOK 
 
 III. 
 
 provided he should not take anything 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.* 
 
 XXY. 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 entrusted 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 restore 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 
 
 * 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 be guilty of 
 till he had utterly abandoned all virtue ; and umhram luocurice, that which 
 follows riot and debaucheiy, as the shadow follows the body. The mean- 
 ing, therefore, of this place is, that Crassus would not etick at the bases; 
 actions if he could but fill his coffers by them." 
 
CHAP. XXVI.] CICERO'S OFFICES. 157 
 
 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 dishonourable 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 think 
 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 honourable, was not even advantageous. For what 
 reproach do you think Ulysses would have heard if he had 
 persevered 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 for ever evaded the 
 obligation of his sacred oath." 
 
 It was really better for him to buffet, not only with the 
 foe, but also with the waves, as he did, than to desert Greece, 
 when combining to wage war against the barbarians. But let 
 us leave both fables and foreign scenes — let us come to real 
 
158 Cicero's offices. fBOOK lit. 
 
 history, and that our own. Marcus Atilius Regulus, when 
 in his second consulship taken in Africa by stratagem by 
 Xanthippus, the Lacedgemonian 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 
 consular dignity. Who can deny these things to be profit- 
 able ? 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. 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 interest!) 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 ? 
 
 XXVIII. Men pervert those things which are the foniida- 
 
CHAP, xxviii.l Cicero's offices. 159 
 
 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, honour, 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 labour 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? 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, that whatever is very advantageous 
 becomes virtuous, even though it did not seem so before. 
 These things are usually urged against Eegulus. 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 wh?.t is the fear, but what is the 
 force. For an oath is a religious afiirmation ; but what you 
 solemnly promise, as if the deity were witness, to that you 
 
160 Cicero's offices. [[book. in. 
 
 ouglit to adhere* For it pertains now not to the anger of the 
 gods, which exists not, but to justice and fidelity. For well 
 has Ennius said — 
 
 " 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 thej argue 
 that even angry Jupiter could not have done more harm to 
 Regulus 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,"!" therefore, who treat of these subjects more boldly, 
 
 * "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 in- 
 justice 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 false- 
 hood ? Will this falsehood have no injurious effect upon a majority of the 
 persons concerned 1 What is the true criterion that I shall faithfully dis- 
 charge the office that is conferred upon me ? Surely my past hfe, not any 
 protestations I may be compelled to make. If my life have been unim- 
 peachable, this compulsion is an unmerited insult; if it have been otherwise, 
 it is something worse." — Godwin's "Political Justice," book vi. chap. v. 
 
 t Cicero here obviouslv refers to the Stoics who regarded pleasure and 
 
CHAP. XXIX.] CICERO 'S OFFICES. IG\ 
 
 venture to say that that which is base is the only evil ; but 
 they* 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 sustain the character. But if they take this to them- 
 selves, that that 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, 
 involves no perjury. Thus, if you should not pay a price 
 
 pain as indifferent. This theory is thus refuted by that most ingenious me- 
 taphysician 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 avouM 
 be covetable by the virtuous in every case in which the greater good of 
 virtue is not inconsistent with it. It is, indeed, because 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 astonish- 
 ing that the founder of the system, or some one of the ancient and modem 
 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 mag- 
 nanimity 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 e-sil ; and if 
 they do not so differ as good and evil, there could be as little merit in con- 
 senting when virtue required tne sacrifice to suffer all the bodily pain which 
 the instrument of torture could inflict, rather than to rest in guilty indo- 
 lence on that luxurious couch of flowers, as there could be in the mere 
 preference for any physical 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, preferable to mere physical enjoyment ; and there is no en- 
 joyment 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 cvei 
 which it is her glory to preside." — Moral Philospphy, Lect. xcix. 
 • The Peripatetics. 
 
 M 
 
162 Cicero's offices. Qbook m. 
 
 for your life, agreed on with robbers, it is no fraud if you 
 should not perform it, though bound by an oath.* 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 
 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 
 
 * "Grotius," says an anonymous commentator (de Jure Belli et Pads, 11, 
 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 Puifendorf, that merely abstaining from injury cannot be reckoned 
 among benefits ; that a highwayman, for instance, who does not murder 
 you, cannot be called your benefactor. Hobbes's doctrine is therefore thus 
 qualified by Puffendorf, provided 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 promiser, against hisvFill,is induced to make an engagement intowhich 
 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 opinion. 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 payer, or sufficient to effect 
 the most useful purposes, it would appear comical, at least extremely im- 
 proper, 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 
 inconsistent with other duties, when violated it is always with some degree 
 of dishonour to the person who made them. It is observable that Paley 
 appears 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 whether 
 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 instrument 
 of almost unlimited extortion, and therefore in the question between the 
 importance of these opposite consequences resides the doubt concerning the 
 obligation of such promises. The noble-minded Montaigne remarks on 
 this subject : — "Ce que la crainte ma fait une fois vouloir, je suis tenu de la 
 vouloir encore sans crainte; et quand elle n'aura force que ma langue sans 
 la volenti, encore, suis jetenu de faire la maille bonne de ma parole." 
 
CHAP. XXX. J CICERO S OFFICES. 163 
 
 tui sententia," as it is expressed in words in our law form, is 
 perjury. For Euripides says well — " With my tongue have 
 I sworn ; I bear an unsworn conscience." 
 
 But Kegulus 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 man;;^ 
 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 JVIaelius, who were then 
 tribunes 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 
 wards, who advocated that bill which Lucius Furius and 
 Sextus Atilius, by a decree of the senate, brought in, that 
 he should himself 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 was 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, tlie 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 Mdiich was the 
 noblest thing in that transaction ; for he did not rely upon 
 nis own judgment, but he undertook the cause that there 
 might be a decision of the senate ; by whom, had not he him- 
 m2 
 
1G4 CICERO S OtFICES. [bOOK IU, 
 
 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 ex- 
 pedient which is not likewise virtuous ; and it is not because 
 it is expedient that it is virtuous, but because it is virtuous 
 it is expedient. 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- 
 ti^.rned 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 sacratae* 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 litus, who was afterwards 
 called Torquatus, and had commanded him to reside in the 
 country. Wlien 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 
 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 
 
 * The laws concerning liberty and the tribunitial power, so called, because 
 he who violated them was to be held devoted (sacer) to the resentment ol 
 the deity. 
 
CHAP. XXXII.] Cicero's offices 165 
 
 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 instantly slay him 
 unless he gave his oath that he would suffer his father to be 
 discharged. Pomponius, forced by fear, swore this ; he sub- 
 sequently brought the matter before the people, and informed 
 them why it was necessary for him to abandon the prosecu- 
 tion, and then suffered Manlius to be discharged. So much 
 force had an oath in those times. And this is that Titus 
 Manlius who acquired the surname of Torquatus, at the Anio, 
 for taking the collar from the Gaul, whom he, having been 
 challenged by him, had slain ; in whose third consulship the 
 Latins Avere 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 those 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 dom 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. Hannibald 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 Yarro. 
 The senate decreed that these should not be redeemed, though 
 it might have been done at a small expense, that it might be 
 impressed upon our soldiers that they were either to con- 
 quer or die — which circumstance, indeed, having become 
 
166 CICERO's OFFICES. [bOOK III 
 
 known, tlie 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 con- 
 sidered beneficial to the commonwealth, or had desired to 
 remain at home), are inexpedient, because they are scan- 
 dalous, foul, and base. 
 
 XXXIII. The fourth part remains, which is compre- 
 hended in propriety, moderation, modesty, continence, tem- 
 perance. Can anything, then, be expedient, which is contrary 
 to this train of such virtues ? However, the Cyrenaeans, 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 Metrodorus ; 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 
 imagined more base ? Now, what room can Fortitude, 
 which is the contemning of pain and labour, have in his 
 
CHAP. xxxni.J Cicero's offices. 1G7 
 
 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 impediment in the stream,* 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.t 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 their own sakes, but 
 are referred to pleasure and interest. Let us, therefore, sum 
 up the subject in 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 
 it is an important subject), I have said more in another 
 place. Now to my original proposition. How, then, if ever 
 
 * Meaning that the system of Epicurus presents impediments to the 
 flowing of the virtues, like obstructions in a water-course. 
 
 t That is, that the greatest pleasure consists in the absence of pain. 
 
168 Cicero's offices. L^<^>^^ ™- 
 
 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. However, 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 
 mj 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 such precepts. 
 
ON FRIENDSHIP. 
 
 I. QuiNTUs Mucius, the augur,* used to relate many 
 things of Caius Lselius, 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,"|" was introduced by my father to Scasvola, 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 
 Scaevola 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,^ was estranged by 
 
 * Augur is often put for any one who predicted future events. Auspex 
 denoted a person who observed and interpreted omens. Avgurium and 
 auspicium are coni.nonly used interchangeably, but they are sometimes 
 distinguished. Auspicium was properly the foretelling of future events from 
 the inspection of birds ; Augm-ium from any omen or prodigies whatever. 
 Fifteen augurs constituted the college. 
 
 f The toga prcBteccta, 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. 
 
 X Tribuni plebis, magistrates created for the maintenance of popular 
 rights, in the year U. C. -261. Their number was originally two, which waa 
 raised to five, and afterwards to ten. Their office was annual. 
 
 ]69 
 
170 CICERO ON FRIENDSHIP. [CHAP. I. 
 
 a deadly hatred from Quintus Pompey, who was then consul, 
 with whom up to that time he had li"S'ed on terms of the 
 closest union and affection,) how great was the surprise and 
 even regret of the people. Accordingly, when Sceevola had 
 incidentally mentioned that very subject, he laid before us 
 the discourse of Laelius 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 j udgment. 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 Laelius and Publius 8cipio 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.* Accordingly, 
 
 ♦ " "We continue to think and feel as our ancestors have thought and felt; 
 80 true in innumerable cases is the observation that * men make up their 
 principles by inheritance, and defend them as they would their estates, be- 
 cause 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 prejudice for antiquity is 
 itself very ancient,' says La Motte ; and it is amusing, at the distance of so 
 many hundred years, to find the same complaint of undue partiality to tho 
 writers of other ages brought forward against their contemporaries by thoso 
 
CHAP. II.] CICERO ON FRIENDSHIP. 171 
 
 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, Laelius, 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 Laelius him- 
 self is speaking. Caius Fannius and Quintus Mucins 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, Laelius : 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 pe- 
 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 
 
 authors whom we are now disposed to consider as too highly estimated by 
 our own contemporaries on that very account," — Dr. Brown's Lectures ois 
 the Philosophy of the Mind, lecture xliv. 
 
172 ' CICERO ON FRIENDSHIP, [CHAP. 11. 
 
 by the oracle of Apollo the wisest of men.* 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 lifeas subordinate to virtue :t therefore 
 they inquire of me (I believe of you also, vScsevola) 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. 
 
 Sc-(EVOLA. It is true, many are inquiring, Caius Laelius, 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, Scaevola, 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) consider how 
 
 * Socrates. See Plato's defence of Socrates. 
 
 t " 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 sceptre of himself, not envying the glory of crowned heads and 
 Elohims of the earth. Could the world unite in the practice of that despised 
 train of virtues which the divine ethics of our Saviour have so inculcated 
 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. 
 
UHAP. III. J CICERO ON FRIENDSHIP. 173 
 
 lie endured the loss of his son ! I remember the instance of 
 PauUus, and witnessed that of Gallus : but theirs was in 
 the case of children ; but Cato's in 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 ibr 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,* 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; his generosity to his sisters; his kindness to his 
 friends ; his uprightness towards 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 
 
 * Carthage was destroyed by Scipio, the second Africanus, B.C. 147; and 
 Numantia, a town of Spain, B.C. 133. From the latter exploit he obtained 
 the surname of Numantinus. 
 
174 CICERO ON FRIENDSHIP. LCIIAP. HI. 
 
 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.* 
 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.f 
 
 * "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 naturae.' 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 therefore a mind 
 fixed and bent upon something that is good doth avert the dolours of death; 
 but above all believe it the sweetest canticle is, ' nunc dimittis,' when a man 
 hath obtained worth, ends, and expectations. Death hath this also, that it 
 openeth the gate to good fame and extinguisheth envy ; ' extinctus ama- 
 bitur idem.' " — Lord Bacon, Essay ii. 
 
 t Ever since the time of Cicero the subject of the immortality of the 
 Boui 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 follow- 
 ing :— 
 
 " 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 unsuitablor 
 UOfifi of the present state of things to the intellectual faculties of man ; to 
 
CHAr. IV. J ClOEiEO ON FRIENDSHIP. 1 7o 
 
 TV. The authority of the ancients has more weight with me. 
 either that of our own ancestors, who paid such sacred honours 
 to the dead, which surely they would not have done if they 
 thought those honours did in no way affect them ; or that of 
 those who once lived in this country, and enlightened, by their 
 institutions and instructions, Magna Grsecia (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, that . 
 the souls of men are divine, and that when they have departed 
 
 his capacities of enjo^Tnent, arid to the conceptions of happiness and of 
 perfection Avhich 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 accounting 
 upon the hypothesis of annihilation for those sufferings which commonly 
 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 
 news always become the more satisfactory the wider our knowledge ex- 
 tends. It is the supposition of a future state alone that can furnish a key 
 to the present disorders of the moral world ; and without it many of the 
 most striking phenomena of human life must remain for ever 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 visible uni- 
 verse appear to be related to each other, as parts of one great physical 
 system. 
 
 "Of the different considerations now mentioned, there is not one perhaps 
 which, taken singly, would be sufficient to estabhsh the truth they are 
 brought to prove, but taken in conjunction, their force appears irresistible. 
 They not only all terminate in the same conclusion, but they mutually re- 
 flect hght on each other ; and they have that sort of consistency and con- 
 nexion among themselves which could hardly be supposed to take place 
 among a series of false propositioix'*'" 
 
f 
 
 176 CICERO ON FRIENDSHIP. [CHAP. IV. 
 
 from the body, a return to heaven is opened to them, and the 
 speediest to the most virtuous and just.* Which same opinion 
 was also held by Scipio ; for he indeed, a very few days be- 
 fore his death, as if he had a presentiment of it, when Philus 
 and Manilius were present, and many others, and you also, 
 Scaevola, had gone with me, for three days descanted on the 
 subject of government : of which discussion the last was 
 
 * 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 reflections, 
 unaided by any light derived through the medium of tradition or report. 
 The idea contained in this passage we find reproduced, with little modi- 
 fication, 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 believe 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 materialled into life ; that the souls of men know neitho: 
 contrary or coiruption ; 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 those apparitions and ghosts of departed persons are not the wandering 
 souls of men, but the unquiet walks of devils, prompting and suggesting iis 
 unto mischief, blood and villainy instilling, and stealing into our hearts ; 
 that the blessed spirits are not at rest in their graves, but wander solicitous 
 of the affairs of the world ; that these phantasms appear often, and do fre- 
 quent cemeteries, charnel-houses, and churches ; it is because these are the 
 dormitories of the dead where the devil, like an insolent champion, beholds 
 with pride the spoils and trophies of his victory in Adam." — Rehgio Me- 
 dici, 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 feelings 
 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 annihila- 
 tion. If even we in such a moment, abstracting from all selfish considera- 
 tions, 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 improvements 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 admit it into scenes in which 
 the progress begun on earth may be continued with increasing facility," — 
 Lecture xcvi. 
 
CHAP. lY.] CIOEKO ON FRIENDSHIP. 177 
 
 almost entirely on the immortality of souls, which he said he 
 had learned in sleep through a vision from Africanus. If 
 this be the fact, that the spirit of the best man most easily 
 Hies 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 tliat, as I entered upon life first, I should 
 likewise first depart from it. But yet I so enjoy the recollection 
 of our friendship, that I seem to have lived happily because I 
 lived with Scipio; with whom I had a common anxiety on pub- 
 lic and private affairs, and with whom my life both at home 
 and abroad was associated, and there existed that, wherein con- 
 sists the entire strength of friendship, an entire agreement of 
 inclinations, pursuits, and sentiments.* That character for wis- 
 dom, 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 for ever. And 
 it is the more gratif^-ing to me, because scarcely in the history 
 of the world are three or four pairs of friends mentioned 
 by name; J and I indulge in tlie hope that the friendship 
 of Scipio and L^elius will be known to posterity in this class. — 
 Fannius. Indeed, Lselius, that must be so. But since you 
 have made mention of friendship, and as we have leisure, you 
 
 * " 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, contributes 
 a principal share towards the formation of such unions." — Robert Hail' 
 Funeral Sermon for Dr. Ryland. 
 
 f Orestes and Pylades, Damon and Pythias, Nisus and Eurvaius,are the 
 most fiamous pairs of iriends recorded, in ancient history. 
 
 V 
 
178 CICERO ON FRIENDSHIP. [CHAP. V. 
 
 will do what is very agreeable to me (I hope also to ScaBvola)> 
 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 con- 
 sider it to be, and what directions you would lay down. — 
 SciEVOLA. To me it will be exceedingly agreeable ; and in 
 fact, when I was endeavouring to prevail with you, Fannius 
 anticipated me : wherefore you will confer a very great 
 favour on both of us. 
 
 V. L^Lius. 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.* 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 amongst the virtuous, 
 friendship cannot exist : I do not analyse 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 ge- 
 neral 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. Wherefore 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 cannot be granted except to 
 a wise man. Let us therefore proceed with our dull genius, 
 
 * The Greek sophists, hke the modern Itahans, professed to iipprovise 
 on any given subject. See Plato's Gorgias, Protagoras, &c. 
 
CHAP, v.] CICERO ON FRIENDSHIP. 179 
 
 as they say. Those who so conduct themselves, and so live 
 that their honour, 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 are able) nature, which is the best guide of a good 
 life.* For I seem to myself to have this view, that we are 
 
 * " 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 com^ccted with the word. ' The very name 
 of Nature implies that it must owe its birth to some prior agent, or, to 
 speak properly, signifies in 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 obscurity 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 con- 
 siderable 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 relation- 
 ship with God. 
 
 " A law of nature is a very imposing phrase ; and it might be supposed, 
 from the language of some persons, that nature was an independent legis- 
 latress, who had sat and framed laws for the government of mankind. 
 Nature is nothing ; yet it would seem that men do sometimes practically 
 imagine that a 'law of nature' possesses proper and independent autho- 
 rity ; 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 vapoury indistinctness, a 
 correspondent indistinctness of moral notions is likely to ensue. Every 
 man should make to himself the rule never to employ the 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 natui-e involves no obligation but that which is imposed by the 
 Divine will." — Dymond's Essays, Essay I. Chapter II. 
 
 N 2 
 
180 CICERO ON FRIENDSHIP. { CHAP. VI. 
 
 30 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 herself has created a friendly feeling, though this has 
 not sufficient strength. For in this respect friendship is 
 superior to relationship, because from relationship benevo- 
 lence can be withdrawn, and from friendship it cannot : for 
 with the withdrawal of benevolence the very name of friend- 
 ship is done away, while that of relationship remains. Now 
 how great the power of friendship is, may be best gathered 
 from this consideration, 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, anything 
 better has been bestowed on man by the immortal gods. 
 Some men prefer riches, others good health, others influence, 
 others again honours, 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 fialli, the Scipios, and the Phili ; with these men 
 ordinary life is content : and let us pass over those who 
 are nowhere found to exist. Amongst 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. %^I.l 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 ; honours, 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.* 
 
 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 ; 
 
 * ** 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, v/hile 
 the sentiments of congratulation are still more slight and superficial. 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 the interior joys and 
 sorrows with which every human breast is fraught. He seeks, in short, 
 another self, a kindred spirit whose interest in his welfare bears some pro- 
 portion to his own, with whom he may lessen his cares by sympathy, and 
 multiplv his pleasures by participation." — Hall's Funeral Sermon for 
 Dr. Ryiand. 
 
182 CICERO ON FRIENDSHIP. fCHAP. VH. 
 
 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 
 honour, 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* 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 theatre, 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 ! 
 Nature herself excellently asserted her rightful power, when 
 inen 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 anything remains (and I fancy there is much), ask 
 of those, if you please, who practise such discussions. 
 
 Fannius. But we would rather hear it from you ; although 
 
 • Empedocles, a philosopher, poet, and historian of Agrigentum in 
 Sicily, who flourished, B.C. 444. He wrote a poem on the doctrines of 
 Pythagoras. 
 
CHAT, ^in.] CICERO OX FKIENDSHIP. 183 
 
 1 have often asked such quertionSj and heard their opinions, 
 and that not without satisfac tion, jet what we desire is the 
 somewhat different thread of jour discourse. — Sc^yola. You 
 would saj so still more, Fannius, if jou had been present 
 latelj in the gardens of Scipio, when the subject of Govern- 
 ment was discussed, \yhat an able pleader was he then on 
 the side of justice against the subtle argument of Philus ! — 
 Faxmus. Naj, it was an easj task for the most just of men 
 to uphold the cause of justice — ^^Sc^yola. What shall we 
 saj then of friendsliip ? Would it not be easj for him to 
 eulogize it, who, for maintaining it with the utmost fidelitj, 
 steadiness, and integritj, has gained the highest glorj ? 
 
 Viii. L^Lius. Whj, this is using force against one : for 
 what matters it bj what kind of request jou compel me ? 
 You certainlj do compel me. For to oppose the wishes of 
 one's sons-in-law, especiallj in a good matter, is not onlj 
 hard, but it is not even just. After verj often, then, reflect- 
 ing on the subject of friendship, this question seems to me 
 especiallj worthj of consideration, whether friendship has 
 become an object of desire, on account of weakness or want, 
 so that bj giving and receiving favours, each maj receive 
 from another, and mutuallj repaj, what he is himself in- 
 capable of acquiring. Or whether this is onlj a propertj of 
 friendship ; whilst there is another cause, higher and nobler, 
 and more directlj derived from nature herself? For love 
 (from which friendship takes its name) is the main motive for 
 the union of kind feelings : for advantages trulj are often 
 derived from those who are courted under a pretence of 
 friendship, and have attention paid them for a temporarj 
 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, maj be observed in the 
 case of certain beasts ; for thej love their offspring up to a 
 certain time, and are loved bj them in such a waj that their 
 emotions are easilj discovered. And this is much more evi- 
 dent in man. In the first place, from that affection which 
 subsists between children and parents, which cannot 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 Mgelius ? Against two generals we had 
 a struggle for empire in Italy, I mean Pyrrhus and Hannibal ; 
 towards the former, on account of his honourable 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, anything 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 highiy 
 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 causes of our attachment 
 sprang: for as we are beneficent and liberal, not to exact 
 favour 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 
 everything to pleasure, widely differ : and no great wonder, 
 since they cannot look up to anything 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 favour than 
 to claim any return. And let this honourable 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^voLA. You do right ; wherefore let us attend. 
 
 X. LiELius, Listen, then, my excellent friends, to the 
 discussion 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 expeiient to both parties, or thaw 
 
186 CICERO ON 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 prsetexta ; 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 
 cannot both attain. And even if men should be carried on 
 still farther 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 who 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 anything 
 of a friend, by their very request seem to imply that they 
 would do anytliing 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. 
 
 XL 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 Maelius 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 Cumae, the friend of 
 our family, Scaevola, when he had come to me (then attend- 
 
CHAP. XI. J 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 commonwealth 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 .^milius 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 Coruncanius were most intimate with 
 them and with each other, is a matter of history, and there- 
 fore we cannot even suspect that any one of these ever 
 asked his friend anything that was contrary to their honour, 
 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 
 any such request when made, as to make it. And yet Caius 
 Caibo and Caius Cato both took the part of Tiberius Grac- 
 
188 CICERO ON FRIENDSIIIP. [CHAr. XII 
 
 cliu8, as did his brother Caius, at that time bj 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 othei 
 olFences, as when any one avows he has acted against the state 
 for the sake of a friend.* For we are placed, Fannius and 
 Scaevola, 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 endeavoured 
 to obtain the sovereignty, or rather he reigned for a few 
 months. Had the Roman people ever heard or witnessed 
 anything similar ? Even after his death, his friends and 
 relations maintained his cause ; and what malice they exer- 
 cised against Publius Scipio, I cannot 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 Caius Gracchus, what v/e 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 
 
 * " 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 opinions 
 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 usurper, 
 they were divided in opinion ; some holding that servitude was the extreme 
 of evils, and others that tyranny was better than a civil war ; and a number 
 of the like cases there are of comparative duty, amongst 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 determined 
 against the truth. ' Aliqua sunt injuste facienda ut multa juste fieri 
 possint.' But the reply is good : ' Auctorem prassentis justitiae habes 
 sponsorem futurae non habes.' Men must pursue things which are just at 
 present, and leave the future to a divine Pro\ddence." — Bacon's Ad vane. 
 Learning, book II. 
 
CHAP. XIII.] CICERO ON FRIENDSHIP. 1?^9 
 
 caused — first, bj tlie Gabinian law,* 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; for 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 anything 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 not think themselves bound in such a manner that they 
 must not desert their friends when doing wrong in any impor- 
 tant 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 honourable, and for our friends' sake do what is 
 Honourable ; that we should not wait till Ave are asked ; that 
 zeal be ever ready, and reluctance far from us ; but that we 
 
 * Lex Gain nia de Comitiis, by Aulus Gabmius, the tribune, A.U.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 Cit-eJ-u for the consulship. 
 
190 CICERO ON FRIENDSHIP. [CHAP. XIII. 
 
 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 Avas 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 towards a happy 
 life, is freedom from care, which the mind cannot 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), tliat 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 inde- 
 pendence, 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,* rather 
 than those who 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. 
 IsTor is it reasonable to refuse to undertake any honourable 
 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 
 
 * Calamitosi, the ruined ; from calamitas, a hail-storm, which breaks 
 the calamus or stalk of plants. 
 
CHAF. X1\.J CICERO ON FRIENDSHIP. 131 
 
 some degree of distress, feel contempt and detestation for 
 qualities opposed to herself; just as kindheartedness 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 anything of that kind ? For they do 
 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 matters, so in friendship also, tender and susceptible ; 
 so that friends are loosened, as it were, by happy events, 
 and drawn together by distresses. 
 
 XIY. 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 dehght 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 ? for there is nothing 
 more delightful than the repayment of kindness, and the 
 interchange of devotedness and good oifices. 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 nonnectpxl by relationsliip and nature j 
 
192 CICERO ox FRIENDSHIP. [bOOK XIV. 
 
 for nothing is more apt to seek and seize on its like tlian 
 nature. Wherefore this certainly is clear, Fannius and 
 Scasvola (in my opinion), that among the good a liking for 
 the good is, as it were, inevitable ; and this indeed is ap- 
 pointed by nature herself as the very fountain of friendship.* 
 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 Avelfare, 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? 
 
 * ** Of all attachments to an individual, that which is founded altogether 
 upon esteem and approbation of his good conduct and behaviour, con- 
 firmed by much experience and long acquaintance, is by far the most 
 respectable. Such friendships arising, not from a constrained sympathy, 
 not from a sympathy which has been assumed and rendered habitual foi 
 for the sake of convenience and accommodation, but from a natural sym- 
 pathy, 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 behaviour 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 
 ag 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 acquainted, and upon wliose wiv- 
 dom and virtue we can upon that account entirely depend." — Smith's 
 Moral Sentiments, I art VI. 
 
CHAP. XV. j CICERO ON FRlE]Sn>SHIP. 193 
 
 Wherefore friendship has not followed upon advantage, but 
 advantage on friendship. 
 
 XY. 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 condition 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 d'^pendence 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 is it perceived how desti- 
 tute they were of friends. And this, they say, Tarquin * 
 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 ail ftiithful friendship ; for not only is fortune blind 
 herself, but she commonly renders bhnd 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 Avho 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 
 foohsh 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, 
 
 * Tarquinius, surnamed Superbus, the seventh and last king of Rome. 
 After reigning twenty-five years, he was banished, about B.C. 309, in 
 consequence of the rape of Lucretia. The republican form of govenmieut 
 was established at Rome after the expulsion of Tarquin. 
 
 o 
 
194 CICERO ON FRIENDSHIP. [CHAP. XVI. 
 
 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 
 labouring.* For every one of these things belongs to him 
 who is most powerful, whereas the possession of his friend- 
 ships 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 unadorned and abandoned by friends 
 cannot 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 towards a 
 friend in the same manner as towards ourselves ; the second, 
 that our goodwill towards our friends should exactly and 
 equally answer to their goodwill towards 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 towards himself so he should be disposed towards 
 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 favours of unworthy persons, to supplicate 
 them, to inveigh bitterly against any one, and to accuse him 
 with great vehemence, which in our own cases cannot be done 
 creditably, in the case of our friends are most honourably 
 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- 
 riou'^ly, so that there may be a balance of received and paid. 
 True friendship seems to be far too rich and afiiuent for that, 
 and not to observe, narrowly, lest it should pay more than it 
 receives : nor need it be feared lest anything should be lost 
 
 * In this, as in many other passages, Cicero has written the sentiment 
 and almost the language of the Scriptures : "He heapeth up riches, aiul 
 knoweth not who shall gather them." 
 
CHAP. XVII. J 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 bj 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 
 towards 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.* Nor, indeed, could he be induced to 
 believe that this, as was supposed, was said by Bias,f 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 everything 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, ratlier than that a time of alieiiation 
 should ever be contemplated. 
 
 XYII. I think, therefore, we must adopt these limitations, 
 that when the character of friends is correct, then there 
 
 * Si aliquando esset osurus. This sentiment is taken from the Ajax of 
 Sophocles. 
 
 t Bias, one of the seven wise men of Greece ; born at Priene. He 
 flourished about B.C. 570. 
 
196 CICERO ON FRIENDSHIP. [CHAP. XVU. 
 
 tliould 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 honourable 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,* 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 for 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 experienced. 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 impet-us of his kindly feeling as he would his 
 chariot, that we may have our friendships, like our horses, 
 
 * *' 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 endeavours, 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 ap- 
 pears too from many passages in the same book, that several other philoso- 
 phers had attempted something of the same kind before him. Neither he 
 nor they, however, appeared to have aimed at giving a complete system of 
 this sort, 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 caswis are the rules of duty.'' — Smith's 
 Moral Philosophy, Part vii. 
 
CHAP. XVIII.] CICERO ON FRIENDSHIP. 197 
 
 fully proved, when the character of our friends has heen 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 m.an 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 Ennius* 
 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. 
 
 XYIII. 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 
 
 * Ennius, a Latin poet, bom 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 quaestor of Sardinia. 
 Hia df^ath took place about 170 years before the Christian era. 
 
198 CICERO ON FRIENDSHIP. i_ClIAP. XIX. 
 
 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 wise 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 deserving 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 habit asserts its 
 power, and habit prevails, not only in the case of this, which 
 
CHAP. XX.] CICEF.O 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 
 woodj 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 by no 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 connexions ; 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 every 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- 
 nexion 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 
 anything 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 shghted : this does not conxnonly 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 actions. 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 honour ; 
 just as Scipio had power to make Publius Rutilius 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. On 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 neglecled, 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 cannot be friends of the 
 worthless, or the worthless of the good; but that there is 
 between them the greatest difference that can subsist of cha- 
 racters 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 Neoptolemus* 
 
 * 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 assist- 
 ance. His mother, Deidamia, was the daughter of Lycoraedes. king of the 
 island of Scyros. 
 
CHAP. XXI.] CICERO ON FRIENDSHIP. ' £01 
 
 have taken Troy if he had been inclined to listen to Ljco- 
 medes, 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 cannot easily 
 bear the regret for their loss, such an one is both weak and 
 effeminate by nature, and on that ground unjust in his friend- 
 ship. And in every case it is necessary to consider, both 
 what you would ask of a friend, and what favour 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 cre- 
 ditable, 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,* Scipio had withdrawn 
 himself on my account f (as yoia know); moreover, on account 
 of the dissension which existed in the republic, he was 
 estranged from my colleague Metellus;| on both occasions he 
 
 * 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, 
 
 + Meo nomine, on my account ; desiderium expresses a ^'feeling oj 
 want^'' or " regret for the loss of any one." 
 
 X Metellus, a Roman general, who defeated the Achi-eans, 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 honour 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 anything which in every 
 respect is perfect of its kind : but most men recognize no • 
 thing 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 
 friendship, 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 themselves, 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. XXn.] CICEBO 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. Amongst 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 
 everything for the other ; nor will the one ever ask of the 
 other anything but what is honourable 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* ; 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 cannot bo so. And whereas 
 
 • " 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 sympathizing 
 friend, may be said to have doubled his mental resources : by associating 
 an equal, perhaps a supreme mind with his own, he has provided 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 judg- 
 ment 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 encouragement 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. [CIIAP. XXm. 
 
 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 anything worthy of pursuit : 
 indeed, should this be disregarded, they who think they 
 possess friends, too late find that they are mistaken, when 
 some grievous misfortune compels them to make the trial. 
 Wherefore (for I must say it again and again) when you 
 have formed your judgment, then it behoves you to give 
 your affections ; and not when you have given your affec- 
 tions, then to form the judgment ; but while in many cases 
 we suffer for our carelessness, 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 intercourse or else by kind offices, 
 suddenly, in the middle of our course, on some offence 
 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 
 style 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 
 arc! those who reckon as nothing other things which to 
 some men seem worthy of admiration :* concerning friend- 
 
 * Among these maybe mentioned Lord Bacon, not only as one of those 
 to whom Cicero here is especially referring, but as one who himself held 
 the higliest office to which the ambition of a subject could aspire. In his 
 eleventh essay entitled, "Of great place," he makes the following observa- 
 tions : "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 a' least an ndipse, which is a melancholy thing; 
 
CHAP. XXJII.J CICERO ON FRIENDSHIP. 205 
 
 ship, all to a man have tne 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, tliose 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 Timonf was at 
 Athens ; yet even he cannot 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 with 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,t and 
 
 * cum non sis qui fueris non esse cur velis vivere.' Nay, retire men cannot 
 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. Certainly, great persons had need to borrow other men's 
 opinions to think themselves happy, for if they judge by their own feeling 
 they cannot 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 themselves, 
 and while they are in the puzzle of business, they have no time to tend 
 their own health, either of body or mind. 'Illi mors gravis incubat qui 
 notus nimis omnibus, ignotus moritur sibi.' " — Bacon's Essays, Essay xi. 
 
 * Timon, an Athenian, called the Misanthrope, from his hatred of 
 society. He forms the subject of one of Shakespeare's plays, and of one 
 of Lucian's dialogues. 
 
 •}• Archytas of Tarentuni, a Pythagorean philosopher, an able astro- 
 
20o 
 
 CICERO ON FllIENDSIlir. [CHAP. XXIV 
 
 I think heard by them from others their elders, that if any 
 one could have ascended to the sky, and surveyed the 
 structure of the universe, and the beauty of the stars, that 
 such admiration would be insipid to him ; and yet it would 
 be most delightful if he had some one to whom he might 
 describe it."^' Thus nature loves nothing solitary, and always 
 reaches out to something, as a support, which ever in the 
 sincerest friend is most delightful. 
 
 XXIY. But while nature declares by so many indication^ 
 what she likes, seeks after, and requires ; yet we turn, I 
 know not how, a deaf ear, nor do we listen to those admo- 
 nitions which we receive from her. For the intercourse of 
 
 nomer and geometrician. He perished by sHipwreck, about b.c. 394. See 
 Horace, Book I. Ode 28. 
 
 * Dugald Stewart classes this feeling among the natural and universal 
 principles of our constitution. " Abstracting," he says, " from those affections 
 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 common 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 dis- 
 puting its existence. Whatever opinion we form on this speculative ques- 
 tion, 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 ourselves to inanimate objects, strive 
 to fill up the void of which we are conscious." — Stewart's Outlines of 
 Moral Philosophy, part ii. chap. i. 
 
 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 gene- 
 ration, 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 hap- 
 piness, have been forced to seek it in the shades of privacy. Though they 
 possessed both power and riches, and were therefore surrounded by men 
 who considered it as their chief interest to remove from them every thing 
 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 devotea to virtue or science, the mau whose 
 
CHAP. XXV.] CICERO ON FRIENDSHIP. 207 
 
 friendship is various and manifold, and many occasions arc 
 presented of suspicion and offence, 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 offence 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 :* 
 " 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 
 
 faculties enable him to make ready comparisons of the present with the 
 past, will find such a constant recurrence of the same pleasure and troublesj 
 the same expectations and disappointments, that he will gladly snatch 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 cannot 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 acclamations. But their efficacy seems confined to the higher 
 mind, and to operate little upon the common classes of mankind, to whose 
 conceptions the present assemblage of things is adequate, and who seldom 
 range beyond those entertainments and vexations which solicit their atten- 
 tion by pressing on their senses." — Rambler, No. 7- 
 
 Sir Thomas Brown, also, has a quaint but beautiful passage to the 
 same effect : " Unthinking heads who have not learned to be alone are in a 
 {)rison to themselves, if they be not also with others ; whereas, on the con- 
 trary, they whose thoughts are in a fair and hurry within, are sometimes 
 fain to retire into company to be out of the crowd of themselves. He ■*rho 
 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 thy- 
 self; nor be only content but delight to be alone and single with Omni- 
 presency. 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 Christians 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. ix. 
 
 * Andria J 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 mti- 
 macy 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 He died about B. c 159. 
 
208 CICERO ON P'ltlLNDSHIP. [CHiLP. XXV. 
 
 yielding to Ids ftiults.* But the greatest of all faults is 
 chargeable ou 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, and 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 onlj) 
 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 cannot 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 feel, but feel that from which they ought to be free ; for 
 
 * "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 endeavour, 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 
 itnvith comfort, because the use of the instrument which is to be attended 
 with relief and happiness implies a little momentary addition 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 excellence 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 afterwards have had reason to lament. If he be worthy 
 of us he will 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 doub'e grati- 
 fication of witnessing the amendment which we desired, and of knowing 
 that we have contributed 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 89. 
 
CHAP. XXV ] CICERO ON FRIENDSHIP. 209 
 
 they are not distressed because they have done wrong ; but 
 take it amiss that they are rebuked : whereas, on the 
 contrary, the^^ 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.* 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 blameable (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 
 
 * "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 in- 
 toxication 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 exuberance of praise has 
 been lavished, and by what hands it has been bestowed. It has never yet 
 been found that the tyrant, the plunderer, the oppressor, the most hateful 
 of the hateful, the most profligate of the i)rofligate, have been denied any 
 celebrations which they were willing to purchase, or that wickedness and 
 folly have not found correspondent flatterers through all their subordi- 
 nations, except when they have been associated with avarice or poverty, 
 and have wanted either inclination or ability to hire a panegyrist."— 
 Rambler, No. 104. 
 
 F 
 
210 CICERO ON FRIENDSHIP. [ClIAP. XXV. 
 
 charged myself to assent to everything,"* as the same 
 Terence says ; but he speaks in the character of Gnatho,t 
 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 everything which is falsely coloured and 
 counterfeit, from what is genuine and 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, dignified, 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 
 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. O 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 seemed to be ; for 
 the election^ of the colleges was thereby transferred to the 
 
 * Shakspeare has exhibited a precisely similar character in the following 
 dialogue between Hamlet and Osrick. 
 
 ^^ Ham. Your bonnet to its right use; 'tis for the head. — Os. I thank 
 your lordship, 'tis very hot — Ham. No, believe me, 'tis very cold ; the 
 wind is northerly. — Os. It is indifferent cold, my lord, indeed. — Ham. But 
 yet, methinks, it is very sultry and hot ; or my complexion — Os. Exceed- 
 ingly, my lord, it is very sultry, as it were, — I cannot tell how." — Hamlet, 
 v., Scene 2. 
 
 So Juvenal too : — 
 
 " Natio comoeda est. Rides % Major cachinno 
 Concutitur. Flet, si lachrymas conspexit amici 
 Nee dolet ; igniculum brumae si tempore poscas 
 Accipit endromidem : si dixeris, eestuo, sudat." 
 
 Sat. III. Ver. 100— lOa. 
 t Gnatho, a parasite in the Eunuch of Terence. 
 :J: CooptaiiOf the election of new members into the priesthood. The 
 
CHAP. XXVI.l CICERO ON FRIENDSHIP. 211 
 
 presentation of the people. And he first commenced the 
 practice of turning towards the forum, and addi-essing the 
 people.* And yet regard for the immortal gods, under my 
 advocacy, gained an easy triumph over his plausiblet address. 
 Now this occurred in my praetorship, 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 cannot 
 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 who is a flatterer of him- 
 self, and takes the highest delight in himself: no doubt 
 virtue loves herself, for she is best acquainted with herself 
 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- 
 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 
 ' yes, many ;' but he says ' infinite.' " The flatterer always 
 exaggerates that which he, for whose pleasure he Kpeaks, 
 wishes to be great. Although the flattering falsehood may 
 have influence with those who themselves aUure and invite 
 it; yet more steady and consistent persons require to be 
 
 different orders of priests were self-elected, so that the proposed law of 
 Crassus was an infringement of vested rights and privileges. 
 
 * Agere cum populo, to tamper with, or to curry favour with the people. 
 
 ♦ Vendibilis, plausible, popular. 
 
 p 2 
 
212 CICERO ON FRIENDSHIP. [CHAP. XXYn, 
 
 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 must 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 
 farther 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 play^ 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. 
 
 XXYII. It is virtue, virtue I say, Caius Fannius, and you, 
 Quintus Mucins, 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 
 
 * " 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 defence 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 likely to be as 
 stable as ours, or on one who may in a few months, or perhaps even in a fe^ 
 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 an eager intimacy 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 
 
CHAP. XXVTT. J CICERO ON FRIENDSHIP. 213 
 
 she has exalted herself and displayed her own effulgence, and 
 hatli beheld the same and recognized it in another, she move?, 
 towards 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 advantage 
 springs up of itself from friendship, even though you may 
 not have pursued it. 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,* the father-in-law of our friend 
 Scipio. This is even more strikingly obvious between per- 
 sons of the same age, as between me and Scipio, Lucius 
 Furius, Publius Rupilius, and Spurius ]\Iummius : 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 
 
 Rousseau on these hasty starts of kindness, 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 favour of some one whose 
 favour it would 'oe more profitable to gain than to retain ours, can we 
 expect fidelity from d 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 one who regards 
 our adversity only as a sign that there is nothing more to be hoped fi'om 
 our intimacy ; or trust our virtues to the defence 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 deceiver ; we have ourselves violated some 
 of the most important duties of friendship ; the duties which relate to its 
 commencement." — Moral Philosophy, Lect. 89. 
 
 * T. Gracchus, who with his brother C. Gracchus excited great tumults 
 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 demagogue. It is thus 
 applied by Juvenal — 
 
 " Quis tulerit Gracchos de seditione querentes 1" 
 
214 CICERO ON FRIENDSHIP. [CHAP. XX VII. 
 
 take delight in the familiarity of some that are very young , 
 of Publius Rutilius and Aulius Yirginius. 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 gaol. 
 But, 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.* In it I had concurrence in 
 politics, and in it advice for my private affairs. In it also, 
 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, 
 
 * This confession is not confined to Cicero or his age. Lord Claren- 
 don 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 Avere lost, he owed all the little he knew, and the little 
 good that was in him, to the friendships 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 histruction he formed 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 hia 
 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 
 wO any degree of reputation in the world, who made choice or delighted in 
 the company or conversation of those who, in their qualities and their parts 
 were not much superior to himself."— Clarendon's Memoirs of hia own 
 Life. 
 
CHAP. XXVI. J CICERO ON FRIENDSHIP. 215 
 
 but even our travelling and visits to the country were in 
 common. For what need I saj of our constant pursuits of 
 knowledge and learning, in which, retired from the eyes of 
 the world, we spent all our leisure time ? Now, if the recol- 
 lection and memory of these things had died along with him, 
 I could in no wise have borne the loss of that most intimate 
 and affectionate friend ; but these things have not perished, 
 yea, they .are rather cherished and improved by reflection 
 and memory i^ and even if I were altogether bereft of them, 
 yet would age itself bring me much comfort, for I cannot now 
 very long suffer 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 
 friendslnp cannot exist, in such a manner that, with this one 
 exception, you may consider that nothing in the world is 
 more excellent than friendship. 
 
 • " The pleasures resulting from the mutual attachment of kindred 
 spirits are by no means confined to the moments of personal intercourse ; 
 they diffuse their odours, 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 i'lmcral ?ernion 
 for Dr. RTlaiai 
 
ON OLD AGE, 
 
 "O Tirus,* if I shall have assisted you at all, or alleviated 
 the 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, 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 aiFected 
 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.*]* But at present I have thought it good to 
 
 * 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 sumamed 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. 
 
 f "This alludes to the disordered state of the commonwealth occasioned 
 by Julius Caesar's usurpation, and the commotion consequent on his deatli ; 
 the present treatise having been written soon after he was assassinated in 
 the senate. No man had more at stake in these public convulsions than 
 Cicero ; and nothing sets the power of liis mind in a more striking point 
 of view than his being able, at such an alarming crisis, sufficiently to com- 
 Tiose his thoughts to meditations of this kind. For not only this treatise, 
 iut his Essay on Friendship, his dialogues on the Nature of the Gods, 
 ogether with those concerning Divination, as also his book of Offices, and 
 ome other of the most considerable of his philosophical writings, vrere 
 jawn up within tl.e same turbulent and distracted period." — Melmotfi. 
 
 1 
 
CHAP, n.] CTCERO ON OLD AGE. 21? 
 
 write to you sometliiiig on Old Age; for of this burden whicli 
 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 vill 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 annoyances of old age, but has 
 rendered old age even easy and delightful. Never, there- 
 fore, 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 dis- 
 course : this book, on the subject of old age, I have sent 
 to you. And all the discourse we have assigned not to 
 Tithonus,* as Aristof the Chian did, lest there should be too 
 little of authority in the tale ; but to Marcus Cato, J when an 
 old man, that the discourse might carry with it the greater 
 weight; at whose house we introduce Lselius § and Scipio, ex- 
 pressing their wonder that he so patiently bears old age, and 
 him replying to them. And if he shall appear to discourse 
 more learnedly 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 him- 
 self 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 
 
 * Tithonus, son of Laomedon, king of Troy. He was carried away by 
 Aurora, who made him immortal. 
 
 f Aristo, a philosopher of Chios, a pupil of Zeno the Stoic. 
 
 t 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," i. e. antiquities, some fragments of which 
 are still extant. 
 
 § Ltelium. C. Laelius, a Roman consul, a.u. c. 614. He was the in- 
 timate friend of Africanus the younger, and is the principal character ic 
 Cicero's treatise, "De Amicitia." 
 
218 CICERO ON OLD AGE. [CHAP. II, 
 
 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 Laelius^ 
 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 
 best guide, as a god, and am obedient to her ;* by whom it 
 is not likely, when the other parts of life have been well 
 represented, that the last act should have been ill done, as it 
 were by an indolent poet. But yet it was necessary that there 
 should be something final, and, as in the berries of trees and 
 the fruits of the earth, something withered and falling through 
 seasonable 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 ? Ljelius. But, 
 Cato, you will do a very great favour to us, as I may also 
 engage on behalf of Scipio, if inasmuch as we hope, or at 
 
 * " The acknowledgment of the intention of the Creator as the proper 
 rule of mail'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 a 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 Mo- 
 rality, book iv. cap. 10. 
 
 Seneca also has a similar idea : " Quid enim aliud est natura quam deua 
 et divina ratio toti mundo et partibus ejus inserta." — De Benef. iv. 7. 
 
CHAP, in.] CICEKO ON OLD AGE. 21.9 
 
 least desire, to become old men, we shall have learned long 
 before from jou bj what methods we may most easily be 
 able to bear the increasing burden of age. Cato. Well, I 
 will do so, Laslius ; 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, Leelius ; 
 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 Spurius 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 thraldom 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.* L^Lius. It is as you say, Cato. But perhaps some 
 
 ♦ " It may very reasonably be suspected that the old draw upon them- 
 selves the greatest 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 time ; that knowledge 
 is the consequence of long life, however idly and thoughtlessly employed; 
 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 honour 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 mu^ 
 lay up knowledge for his support, when his powers of acting shall forsal.e 
 him; and in age forbear to animadvert with rigour on faults which ex- 
 perience only can correct." — Johnson's Rambler, No. 50. 
 
220 CICERO ON OLD AGE. [cnAP. IV. 
 
 one may say, that to you, on account of your wealth, and 
 resources, and dignity, old age appears better to endure, but 
 that this cannot be the lot of many. Cato. That to be sure, 
 Lgelius, is something, but all things are by no means involved 
 in it : as Themis,tocles is said to have replied to a certain man 
 of Seriphus* 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. f 
 
 IV. I, when a young man, was as fond of Quintus Maxi- 
 mus,J the same who recovered Tarentum, though an old 
 man, as if he had been one of my own age. For there 
 
 * Seriphus was a barren island, or rock, in the ^gean Sea, used by the 
 Romans as a place of banishment for criminals : 
 
 " Cui vix in Cvaada mitti 
 Contigit, et parti tandem caruisse Seripho." 
 
 Juvenal, 6th Sat. 56. lib. iii. 
 
 f "As to all the rational anca wor^ny 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. 
 
 X Quintus Maximus, a Roman general of the Fabian family, who received 
 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 the ^Eneid, "Book vi. 846, 
 ''Unus gui nobis cunctando restituit rem," 
 
CHAP. IV. J CICEKO ON OLD AGE. 22-1 
 
 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 someAvhat advanced in age. For he had been consul 
 for the first time in the year after I w^as born, and in his 
 fourth consulship I, then a stripling, marched wdth him as 
 a soldier to Capua, and in the fifth year after, as quaestor to 
 Tarentum ; I was next made gedile, and four years afterwards 
 prsetor, an office which I held in the consulship of Tudi- 
 tanus* and Cethegus, when he, a very old man, was the 
 promoter of the Cincian | 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 rumour 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 w^hich were un- 
 dertaken against the commonwealth were undertaken in 
 opposition to the auspices. J Many excellent points have I 
 
 * Consulihus Tuditano, &c. a. u. c. 550. 
 
 + A law enacted by M. Cincius, tribune of the people, A.u.c. 549. By 
 this law no one was allowed to receive a present for pleading a cause. 
 
 X " Homer," says Melmoth, "puts a sentiment of the same spirited kind 
 into the mouth of Hector. That gallant prince, endeavouring to force the 
 Grecian entrenchments, is uxhorttd by Polydamas to discontinue the 
 
222 CICERO ON OLD AGE. [CHAP. V. 
 
 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 ? 
 because doubtless you see that it is quite wrong to say that 
 such an old age was miserable. Still, all men cannot 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 labour ; 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 
 
 attack, on occasion of an unfavourable omen which appears on 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! your wings extend, 
 Or where the suns 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, II. xii. 27^' 
 
 I 
 
CHAP. YI J 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 Flaminius* 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 Yoconian lawt 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. 
 
 YI. 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 ? 
 ^Yas 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 
 
 • A.u.c. 604. 
 
 t The Voconian law enacted that no one should make a woman his heir. 
 
224 CICERO ON OLD AGE. [CHAP. VI. 
 
 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 
 Bay 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, 1, 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,* 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 memory 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 
 
 * " Delenda est Carthago " was so common an expression of Cato's as to 
 bay? become proverbial. 
 
CHAP. VI.] CICERO ON OLD A-GE. 225 
 
 men, our ancestors would never have called the supreme 
 council by the name of senate.* Among the Lac£edemo- 
 nians, those who hold the highest office, as thej 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 ;f 
 both other answers are given, and these especially : " There 
 came forward orators inexperienced, foolish young men." 
 Rashness, beyond a doubt, belongs to life when in its bloom; 
 wisdom to it in old age. 
 
 YII. 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. J 
 
 • So called from the Latin word senex. The members of this august 
 assembly were originally distinguished by the title of fathers. " Vel aetate," 
 says Sallust, " vel curae similitudine." Ovid has some pretty lines in allu- 
 sion to the same etymology : — 
 
 " Magna fuit capitis quondam reverentia cani, 
 Inque suo pretio ruga senilis erat, 
 Nee nisi post annos patuit tunc curia seres 
 
 Nomen et aetatis 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 honour'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. 
 
 + Cneiu8 Naevius was a Latin poet, who lived during the first Punic war, 
 which he made the subject of an Epic poem. He also wrote comedies, 
 now lost. He died about b. c. 203. 
 
 X " It was a prevailing superstition," says Melmoth, in his aunotatiou 
 
 Q 
 
226 CICERO ON OLD AGE. [CHAP. VIL 
 
 Nor indeed have I heard of any old man having forgotten in 
 whsit place he had buried a treasure; they remember all 
 things which they care about : appointments of bail ;* who 
 are indebted to them, and to whom they are indebted.f 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 ^ge; 
 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, J so in his case the judges might remove him 
 
 upon this passage, " among the Romans, that to read the inscriptions on 
 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 vi^hat 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 vrere deposited, and there were certain annual rites 
 celebrated at these sepluchres for appeasing the ghosts." — Vid. Platon. 
 Phsed. No. 3. Ovid, Fast. II. 533. 
 
 * Vadimonia, " vades'' or " vadimonium dare,^* to give bail or recogni- 
 zances ; " deserere vadimonium,'^ to forfeit his recognizances. 
 
 + « We generally find that this inaptitude at recollection is most apparent 
 with reference to subjects which are uninteresting or distasteful to the indi- 
 vidual ; 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 individual 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 intellectual 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 com- 
 manding and dignified faculties of an intelligent being. It extends the 
 very limit of our existence back from the present to the past ; so that the 
 stream of by-gone years, with all the rich freight of knowledge and ex- 
 perience 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 
 domains." — Edmonds's Philosophy of Memory. 
 
 X Interdict bonis. The praetor was said " interdicere" when he took 
 from any one the management of his property, as in cases of lunacy, &c. 
 
CHAP. Vm.] CICERO ON OLD AGE. 227 
 
 from the management of the estate 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,* or Simoni- 
 des,t or Stesichorus,J or those men whom I mentioned 
 before, Isocrates, Gorgias, or the chiefs of the philosophers, 
 Pythagoras, Democritus, or Plato, or Xenocrates, or after- 
 wards 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, neighbours and acquaintances 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 Statins § 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." 
 
 Yni. Caecilius speaks more wisely about an old man look- 
 ing forward to another generation, than the following : — 
 "In truth, II old age, if thou bringest with thee no other 
 
 * Hesiod, a poet of Ascra in Bceotia, 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. 
 
 + Simonides, a poet of Cos, who flourished B. c. 538. 
 
 X Stesichorus, a lyric Greek poet of Himera, in Sicily, B.C. 556. 
 
 § Siatius, a comic poet in the days of Ennius. He was a native of 
 Gaul. His sxu-name was Csecilius. — Vid. Chap. viii. at the beginning. 
 
 II M,d€pol. Per cBdem PoUucis, by the temple of Pollux : a form of 
 swearing common both to men and women. Mecastor^ or EcastoTy ** by 
 Castor," was used by women only : Hercle, or Mehercle, was the form aaed 
 by men. 
 
 Q2 
 
22R CICERO 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 Cascilus 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 conscious 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 
 an^e 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 for- 
 mer 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 vSocrates 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, 
 
 * 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 Learninii," book i. 
 
CHAP. IX.] CICERO ON OLD AGE. 229 
 
 that one ought to use ; and whatever you do, you should do 
 it with all your strength. For what expression can be morf 
 contemptible than that of Milo* of Crotona, who, when ho 
 was now an old man, and was looking at the prize-fighterft 
 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."| Nay, foolish man, not 
 these arms so much as yourself ; for you never derived your 
 nobility from yourself, but from your chest and your 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 effect, yet you 
 may be able to teach it to Scipio and Laslius. For what 
 
 ♦ Milo. A famous Athlete, of Crotona, in Italy. He is said to have 
 carried on his shoulders a young bullock. He was seven times crowned at 
 the Pythian games, and six times at the Olympian. 
 
 •j* " When an old man bewails the loss of such gratifications as are 
 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 dissatisfied 
 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 consider a 
 libidinous old man fretting at the course of things, and being almost 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 powerful now with- 
 out the disturbance of them. One would think it should be no small satis- 
 faction 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 licentious youth, the plea- 
 sures 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 entertained in the troubled 
 slumbers of a fit of sickness." — The Spectator, No. 153. 
 
230 CICERO ON OLD AGE. [CHAP. X 
 
 is more delightful than old age surrounded with the stu- 
 dious 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. JEmilius and P. Africanus, quite 
 happy in the attendance of noble youths ; nor are any pre- 
 ceptors of liberal accomplishments to be deemed otherwise 
 than happy, though their strength hath fallen into old age 
 aud 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.* 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 maximus,'* 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,t 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; if and he does not doubt if that should 
 
 * *' 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 ol 
 their follies, must certainly come." — The Spectator, No. 153. 
 t Tow leal otto yXuKTffrjQ fx.s'KiTog yXvKiojv psev avh). 
 
 X Oh ! would the gods, in love to Greece, decree 
 But ten such sages as they grant in thee ! 
 Such wisdom soon should Priam's force destroy ; . 
 And soon should fall the haughty towers of Troy. 
 
 Iliad, Pope's Translatiui. 
 
f 
 
 CHAP. X.] CICERO ON OLD AGE. 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 afterwards, when as military tribune I fought a battle at 
 Thermopylae, in the consulship of Marcus Acilius Glabrio: 
 yet, as you see, old age has not quite enfeebled me or broken 
 me down : the senate-house does not miss my strength, nor 
 the. rostra,* 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's 
 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 ol 
 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 now fixed manhood, and the maturity of old 
 age, have something natural, which ought to be enjoyed in 
 their own time. I suppose that you hear, Scipio, what your 
 
 * Rostra: a pulpit from which the orators used to harangue the people 
 at the comitia or public assemblies. It was so called, because it wai 
 adorned with the beaks of the ships taken from the Antiates. 
 
232 CICERO ON OLD AGE. [OHAP. XL 
 
 grandfather*s host. Masinissa,* is doing at this day, at the 
 age of ninety : when he has commenced a journey on foot, 
 he never mounts at all ; when on horseback, he never dis- 
 mounts : 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 tempe- 
 rance, even in old age, can preserve some remnant of our 
 pristine vigour. 
 
 XI. 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 
 cannot be supported without strength. Accordingly, so far are 
 we from being compelled to do what we cannot do, that we are 
 not even compelled to do as much as we can. But so feeble 
 are many old men, that they cannot 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 I 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.t What wonder, therefore, in old men, if they are 
 
 * Masinissa, son of Gala, king of a small part of Northern Africa : he 
 assisted the Carthaginians in their wars against Rome. He afterwards 
 became a firm ally of the Romans. He died after a reign of sixty years, 
 about B. c. 149. 
 
 f " There are perhaps," says Dr. Johnson, " very few conditions more to 
 be pitied than that of an active and elevated mind labouring 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, iiis 
 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 instruction from the wise; where all human 
 glory is obliterated, the wit is clouded, the reasoner perplexed, and the hero 
 
CHAP. XI.] CICERO ON OLD AGE. 233 
 
 sometimes weak, when even young men cannot escape that. 
 We must make a stand, Scipio and Laslius, 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 Caecilius 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 dependants, 
 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 autho- 
 rity, 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 honoured if it 
 maintains itself, if it keeps up its own right, if it is subser- 
 vient to no one, if even to its last breath it exercises control 
 over its dependants. For, as I like a young man in whom 
 there is fx)mething 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- 
 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 CTCERO ON OLD AGE. [_CHAP. XL 
 
 fended, I am now completing the pleadings ;* 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.j These are the exercises of the 
 understanding ; these are the race-courses of the mind ; 
 whilst 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 me 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 
 
 * 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 contemporaries '* The Roman Demosthenes " and he is frequently 
 mentioned by subsequent writers under the designation of " Cato the 
 Orator." 
 
 + *' It was not," says Melmoth, and that with great propriety, " in order 
 to exercise and improve the memory, that Pythagoras enjoined his disciples 
 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 : ' — 
 
 " * Mj;^' v-ttvov [xaXaKOKn £7r' o/jifiacn,' &c. 
 * Nightly forbear to close thine eyes to rest, 
 Ere thou hast questioned well thy conscious breast. 
 What sacred 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, 
 Undevious lead in Virtue's paths 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 deUvered 
 by any uninspired moralist which hath so powerful a tendency to p^omot«^ 
 the interests of virtue as the present precept." 
 
CHAP. Xn.] CICERO ON OLD AGE. 235 
 
 who always lives in these pursuits and labours, it is not 
 perceived when old age steals on. Thus gradually and un- 
 consciously 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 fornica- 
 tions 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,* who had re- 
 
 * The title of Ksvoq, 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 ambassadors from the state with which he 
 was thus connected, into his own house, if they had been sent on public 
 
236 CICERO ON OLD AGE. [OHAP. 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, * Spurius Postumius and 
 Titus Veturius, 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, f 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 
 expelling from the senate Lucius Flamininus, brother of that 
 very brave man, Titus Flamininus, seven years after he had 
 been consul ; but I thought that his licentiousness should be 
 stigmatized. For that man, when he was consul in Gaul, was 
 prevailed on at a banquet, by a courtezan, to behead one of 
 those who were in chains, condemned on a capital charge. 
 He escaped in the censorship of his brother Titus, who 
 had immediately preceded me : but so profligate and aban- 
 doned 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 empirb. 
 
 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 
 ambassador 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 plea- 
 sure : and that hearing him say so, Manius Curius and Titus 
 Coruncanius were accustomed to wish that that might be 
 
 business to the city in which he resided, and to use all the interest he 
 possessed in furthering the purpose of their mission. 
 
 * Praslio Caudino. Caudi and Caudium, a town of the Samnites, no*? 
 which, in a place called Caudinae Furculae or Fauces, the Romans were 
 defeated and made to pass under the yoke by Pontius Herennius. 
 
 f Consulibus L. CamillOf &c. A.u.c. 330. 
 
CHAP. Xin.] CICERO ON OLD AGE. 23 T 
 
 the persuasion of the Samnites and Pjrrhus himself, that 
 ihej might the more easily be conquered when thej 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 plea- 
 sure ? 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 Duihus,* 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, 1 always 
 had associates in clubs ; and clubs were established when 
 I was quaestor, on the Idaean worship of the great mother 
 being adopted. Therefore I feasted with my associates f 
 altogether in a moderate way; but there was a kind oiF 
 fervour peculiar to that time of life, and as that advanceSj all 
 things will become every day more subdued. For I did not 
 calculate the gratification of those banquets by the pleasures 
 
 * C. Duilius, suniamed Nepos, obtained a naval Tictoiy over the Cartha- 
 ginians, B.C. 260. 
 •f* Soda/itia were club-feasts, corporation dinners, &.c. 
 
238 CICERO ON OLD AGE. [OHAJ». XTV. 
 
 of the body, so mucli 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"* better than the 
 Greeks do, who call this same thing as well by the name of 
 "compotatio" as " conccenatio : " so that what in that kind 
 (of pleasures) 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 presidencies f esta- 
 blished 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 neighbours, 
 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 
 
 * Convivium, which the Greeks call (TVfnrStnov. 
 
 t <* Nee regna vmi sortiere talis." — Horace, Book I, Ode 4. 
 
CHAP. XIV. I CICERO ON OLD AOE. 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 which 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,* yet 
 he also is delighted who is in the hindmost; so youth 
 having a close view of pleasures, 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 acuteness ! How Nsevius did delight in his Punic 
 war ! how Plautus in his Truculentus ! how in his Pseudolus ! 
 I saw also the old man Livy,f 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 IVIarcus Cethegus, whom Ennius rightly called the 
 
 ♦ Prima cavea. The theatre was of a semicircular form: the foremost 
 rosvs next the stage were called orchestra: fourteen rows behind them were 
 .issigned to the knights, the rest to the people. The whole was fre- 
 quently called cavea. 
 
 + Livius Jndronicus flourished at Rome about 240 years before the 
 Christian era. 
 
240 CICERO ON OLD AGE. [CHAP. XV. 
 
 " marrow of persuasion," 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.* 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 delight 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 fibres of the roots, gradually 
 grows up, and, rising on a jointed stalk, is now enclosed 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 
 
 • « 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 civilitv 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. J CICERO ON OLD AGE. 24 J 
 
 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 tAvigs 
 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 
 only 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.* Nor 
 
 ♦ '' I look upon the pleasure which we take in a garden, as one of the 
 most innoceDt delights in human life. A garden was the habitation of ouj 
 
 R 
 
?42 CICERO ON OLD AGE. [CHAP. XVI. 
 
 do plantings* only give me delight, but also engraftings ; 
 than which agriculture has invented nothing more in- 
 genious. 
 
 XVI. I can enumerate many amusements of rustic life ; 
 but even those things vi^hich 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,t 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 cannot 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 with 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 Quintius Cincinnatus 
 was at the plough 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 
 
 first parents before the fall. It is naturally apt to fill the mind with calm- 
 ness and tranquillity, and to lay all its turbulent passions at rest. It gives 
 us a great insight into the contrivance and wisdom of Providence, and 
 suggests innumerable subjects for meditation." — Spectator, No. 477. 
 
 * Consitio, sowing or planting ; insitio, grafting ; repastinatio, trench- 
 ing. 
 
 f Curius Dentatus Marcus Annius, celebrated for his fortitude and 
 frugality. He was thrice consul, and twice honoured with a triumph. 
 
CHAP. XVII.] CICERO 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 fulness 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 an'i 
 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 labour, fowling and hunt- 
 ing. Why should 1 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 tesserce;* 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 " QEconomicus." | 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- 
 
 * Tesserce had six sides marked 1 , 2, 3, &c., like our dice. The tali had 
 four sides longwise, the ends not being regarded. The lowest throw (unio)j 
 the ace, was called canis: the highest {senio or sice), was called Venus; 
 the dice-box, Fritillus. 
 
 + (Economicus. A dialogue of Xenophon, in which he treats of the 
 management of a farm, horses, &c, 
 
 r2 
 
244 CICERO ON OLD AGE. [CHAP. XVH. 
 
 bulus, [and remarks] that Cyrus the younger, * king of the 
 Persians, pre-eminent in talent and the glory of his empire, 
 when Lysanderf the Lacedaemonian, a man of the highest 
 valour, had come to him at Sardis, and had brought to him 
 presents from the allies, both in other respects was courteous 
 and kind towards Lysander, and in particular showed to him 
 an enclosed 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 skilfulness 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, " 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 honours : and the close of his life was happier on this 
 account than the middle, because it had more of authority 
 ^md 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 
 
 * Cyrus the younger. He attempted to dethrone his brother Artaxerxes, 
 and was killed at the battle of Cynaxa, b.c. 401. 
 
 t Lysander defeated the Athenian fleet at the battle of iEgos Potanios, 
 »-♦<, 405, and put an end to the Peloponnesian war. 
 
CHAP. XVIII.] 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 I 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 
 honoured old age, has so great authority, that this is of more 
 value than all the pleasures of youth. 
 
 XYIII. 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 grey hairs nor wrinkles can suddenly catch respect ; 
 but the former part of life honourably spent, reaps the fruits 
 of authority at the close. For these very observances, which 
 seem light and common, are marks of honour — 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 
 Lacedaemonian, whom I mentioned a little above, was accus- 
 tomed to remark, that Lacedaemon was the most honourable 
 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 theatre, a place was 
 nowhere offered him in that large assembly by his own 
 townsmen ; but when he had approached the Lacedsemonians, 
 who, as they were ambassadors, 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, ^^ but this of which I am treating especially, that 
 in proportion as each man has the advantage in age, so he 
 
 * In nostra 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 ; ar.d older augurs are 
 preferred not only to those who are higher in ofl&ce, 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 offence 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 ;* 
 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 everything else ; harshness by no means.f What avarice 
 in an old man can propose to itself I cannot conceive : for 
 can anything 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 cannot 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 
 
 * Adelphi. A play of Terence : Demea and Micio are the names of the 
 two old men alluded to here. 
 
 f " Nothing is more despicable or more miserable, than the old age of a 
 passionate man. When the vigour of youth fails him, and his amusements 
 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 ex- 
 presses it, * (f>oivv^(i)v (piXov Krjp,'' to devour his own heart in solitude and 
 contempt." — Rambler, No. 11, 
 
CHAP. XIX. J CICERO ON OLD AGE. 247 
 
 desired, if it leads it to a place where it is destined to be im- 
 mortal.* 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 evening ? 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, 
 that death was common to every period of life. Yet a young 
 
 * " I thank God I have not those straight ligaments or narrow obligations 
 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 marshalling all the 
 honours, and contemplating the extremities thereof, I find not anything 
 therein able to daunt the courage of a man, much less a well resolved Chris- 
 tian ; and therefore am not angry at the error of our first parents, or un- 
 willing to bear a part of this common fall, and, like the best of them, to 
 die; that is, to cease to bieathe, to take a farewell of the elements, to he a 
 kind of nothing for a moment, to be within one instant of a spirit. When 
 1 take a full view and circle of myself without this reasonable moderator 
 and equal piece of justice, I do conceit^e myself the miserablest person ex- 
 tant ; were there not another life thai I hope for, all the vanities of this 
 world should not intreat a moment's bi eath 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 oi this common way of existence, this 
 retaining to the sun and elements— I c mnot think this is to be a man, or to 
 live according to the dignity of humani y : in expectation of a better, I can 
 with patience embrace this life ; yet ii my best meditations do often defy 
 death ; I honour any man that conten" is it, nor can highly love any that is 
 afraid of it. This makes me natural ' love a soldier, and honour those 
 tattered and contemptible regiments t lat will die at the command of a 
 sergeant. For a pagan, there may be j :»me motives to be in love with life ; 
 but for a Christian to be amazed at deal i, I see not how he can escape this? 
 dilemma, that he is too sensible of t lis life, or hopeless of the life to 
 come." — Sir Thomas Browne's Religio Hedici, chap, xxxviii 
 
248 CICERO ON OLD AGE. [CHAP. XIX. 
 
 man hopes that he will live a long time, which expectation 
 an old man cannot entertain. His hope is hut 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,* 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. f For the short period of life is long enough 
 for living well and honourably ; J and if you should advance 
 
 * Gades, a small island in the Atlantic, now Cadiz. It was anciently 
 called Tartessus and Erythia. 
 
 •f 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.' 
 
 J " Glory is the portion of virtue, the sweet reward of honourable 
 toils, the triumphant crown which covers the thoughtful head of the disin- 
 terested 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 
 elements, and the endless vicissitude 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 has 
 reduced the jarring elements into just order and proportion. Let specu- 
 lative 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 man of morals, 
 without deciding anything on so dubious a subject, is satisfied with the 
 
CHAP. XIX.] CICERO ON OLD AGE. 249 
 
 further, jou 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 
 everything 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 f etting sight of land, and at length, after a 
 long voyage, to be just coming into harbour.* 
 
 portion marked out to aim by the supreme Disposer of all things. Grate- 
 fully he accepts of th it farther reward prepared for him ; but if disap- 
 pointed, 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. 
 
 * " It is curious to observe the difference m 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 circum- 
 spection, we may steal along with very little to obstruct or incommode us ; 
 by spirit and vigour we may force a way, and reward the vescalion by con- 
 quest, by the pleasures of victory. But a time must come when our policy 
 and bravery shall be equally useless ; when we shall all sink into helpless- 
 ness and sadness, without any power of receiving solace from the pleasures 
 that have formerly delighted us, or any prospect of emerging into a second 
 possession of the blessings that we have lost. However age mav discourage 
 us by its appearance from considering it in prospect, we shall all by degrees 
 certainly be old, and therefore we ought to enquire what provision can be 
 made against that time of 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 
 
250 CICERO ON OLD AGE- LCHAP. 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 
 tJie 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,* 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.f There is indeed a saying of the wise Solon, in 
 
 even the best seasons of life are able to supply sufficient gratifications with- 
 out anticipating uncertain felicities, it cannot surely be supposed that old 
 age, worn with labours, harassed with anxieties, and tortured with diseases, 
 should have any gladness of its own, or feel any satisfaction from the con- 
 templation of the present. All the comfort that can now be expected 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." — Rambler, No. 69. 
 
 * Pisistratus, tyrant of Athens, reigned thirty-three years, and died about 
 B.C. 527. 
 
 t 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 ex- 
 press 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, con- 
 sidered suicide as an act of rebellion against the authority 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 im- 
 
CHAP- XX. J CICEKO ON OLD AGE, 2ol 
 
 which he declares that he does not wish his own death to be 
 unattended by the grief and lamentation of friends. He 
 
 patience of joining him in the heavenly mansions, that there was no admit- 
 tance into those regions of felicity for the man who attempted to force his 
 vray into them by his own unauthorized act. The Platonic poet, it is well 
 known, places those unhappy persons in a state of punishment, who not 
 ha\-ing the piety and the courage to support their misfortunes with due 
 resignation, impiously endeavoured 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 acknowledged, 
 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 
 precejit 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 characteristica] marks of the Stoical 
 svstem, as Plutarch has proved by a variety of instances 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 restriction, sometimes only under very 
 peculiar circumstances, and sometimes zealously press upon their disciples, 
 as an indispensable obligation, the 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 event-, remembering that he 
 is destined to pass through a world where pain and sorrow, disease and in- 
 firmitv, 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 constant endeavour, 
 therefore, to reconcile our minds to these unalterable laws of Providence, 
 and to submit to them without murmur or complaint; 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 deliver himself up to that Being 
 with an implicit and unreserved resignation, 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 of correcting 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 pressure 
 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 deli\ er themselves by an un- 
 
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 pro- 
 priety, 
 
 " Let no one pay me honour with tears, nor celebrate my fmieral 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,"'^ who set out to execution, that 
 he might keep a promise pledged to the enemy ; nor the two 
 Scipios, who even with their very bodies sought to obstruct 
 the march of the Carthaginians ; nor your grandfather Lucius 
 Paulus,! who by his death atoned for the temerity of his 
 
 warranted 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. Voluntary 
 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 remarkable, how- 
 ever, that even English moralists are by no means unanimous in con- 
 demning 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. 
 lu the Bavarian and Saxon codes, suicide is not mentioned. The Prussian 
 code forbids all mutilation of the dead body of a self-murderer, under ordi- 
 nary circumstances, but declares that it shall be buried without any marks 
 of respect, otherwise suitable to the rank of the deceased. 
 
 * Better known to the English reader by the name of Regulus. 
 
 t Lucius Paulus fell at the battle of Cannae, which was brought on by 
 the rashness of his colleague, Terentius Varro, b. c. 216: 40,000 Romans 
 were killed in this battle. 
 
CHAP. XXI. J CICERO ON OLD AGE. 253 
 
 colleague in the disgraceful defeat at Cannje; nor Marcus 
 Marcellus, * whose corpse not even the most merciless foe 
 suffered to go without the honour of sepulture : 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, des- 
 pise ? On the whole, as it seems 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 foi 
 by old age. There are some final pursuits of old age ; accor- 
 dingly, 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 ol 
 death, f 
 
 XXL Indeed I do not see why I should not venture to 
 tell you what I myself think concerning death ; because I 
 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 Laelius, men of the greatest 
 eminence and very dear friends of mine, are living ; and that 
 
 * M. Marcellus, a Roman consul who fought against Hannibal. He was 
 killed in an ambuscade, a. u. c. 546. 
 
 "Y *' 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 deliver 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 contemporaries." — Sir T. Browne'e " Christiau 
 Morals," part 3, ch. 8. 
 
254 CICERO ON OLD AGE. |_CHAP. XXI. 
 
 life too which alone deserves the name of life.* For whilst 
 we are shut up in this prison of the body, we are fulfilling as 
 
 *In another of his writings, "The Tusculan Questions," Cicero thus ex- 
 presses himself: "There is, I know not how, in minds, a certain presage as it 
 were, o 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 Cicero, the most enlightened 
 of heathen advocates for the soul's immortality, and of Christian moralists; — 
 the analogies doubtless arising from the universality and instinctiveness of 
 the notion, and the differences being readily explained by the fuller light 
 shed upon the subject by the Christian 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 arguments 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 particu- 
 larly 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 anihilation, and its hopes of immortality, with 
 that secret satisfaction which it finds in the practice of virtue, and that 
 uneasiness which follows in it upon the commission of vice. Thirdly, 
 From the nature of the 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 remember 
 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 1 A brute arrives at a point of perfection 
 that he can never pass in a few years ; he has all the endowments he is 
 capable of, and were he to live ten thousand more, would be the same 
 thing he is at present. Were a human soul thus at a stand in her accom- 
 plishments, 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 travelling on from 
 perfection to perfection, after having just looked abroad into the works of 
 its Creator, and made a few discoveries of his infinite goodness, wisdom, 
 and power, must perish at her first setting out, and in the beginning of her 
 inquiries ? 
 
 " There is not in my opinion a more pleasing and triumphant considera- 
 tion in religion than this, of the perpetual progress which the soul makes 
 towards the perfection of its nature, without ever arriving at a period in it. 
 To look upon the soul as going on from strength to strength j to consid'ei 
 
CHAP. XXI.] CICERO ON OLD AGE. 255 
 
 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 1 believe 
 that the immortal gods have shed souls into human bodies, 
 that beings might exist who might tend the earth, and bj 
 contemplating the order of the heavenly bodies, might imitate 
 it in the manner and regularity of their lives.* 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,! who were all but our neighbours, who were formerly 
 called the Italian philosophers, had no doubt that we possess 
 souls derived from the universal divine mind. Moreover, 
 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 
 
 that she is to shine for ever, 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 agreeable 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 for ever beautifying in his eyes, and 
 drawing nearer to him by greater degrees of resemblance." — "Spectator," 
 No. ill. 
 
 * The Pythagoreans, according to Aristotle (Eth. Magn. I.) were the 
 first who determined anything in moral philosophy. Their ethics are of 
 the loftiest and most spiritual description. Virtue was with them a har- 
 mony, an unity, and an endeavour to resemble the Deity. The whole life 
 of man should be an attempt to represent on earth the beauty and harmony 
 displayed in the order of the universe. The mind should have the body 
 and the passions under perfect control : the gods should be worshipped by 
 simple purifications, offerings, and above all, by sincerity and purity of the 
 heart. 
 
 t The Pythagoreans represented the souls of men as light particles of the 
 universal soul diffused through the whole world, (Cic. de 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, vovq, 
 ^pivsg, and S-tr/xog, The two former were considered as the rational half 
 of the soul, and had their seat in the brain. The last, or B'vfiog, was tlie 
 animal half, and its seat was in the heart. (Diog. Laert. viii. 19. 30. Pluf.. 
 dp Plac. Phil. i/. 5* 
 
256 CICKKO ON OLD AGE. [CHAP. XXL 
 
 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 cannot be mortal ; * 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 
 itself, I maintain that it cannot undergo dissolution ; and if 
 this be not possible, it cannot 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 then for the first time, but to 
 remember them,| and to be calling them to recollection. J 
 Thus did our Plato argue. 
 
 * " 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 en- 
 dowed. When we view him, indeed, comprehending in his single concep- 
 tion, 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 futm-ity 
 as the origin of the universe is in the past, measuring 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. 
 
 t Reminisci et recordari. See Plato's dialogue called JVIeno, in which 
 it is attempted to be shown that all our knowledge is ihe reminiscence of 
 what has passed in some previous state of existence. 
 
 :J " That the soul had an existence prior to her connexion 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 genera] 
 notion, however, was not maintained universally in the same precise sense. 
 Some considering the soul in its former state as subsisting only in the great 
 soul of the universe, whilst others held its prior distinct and personal indi- 
 viduality. Those philosophers who maintained the latter opinion, at least 
 the generality of them, seem to have supposed that the sonl ik sent down 
 into his sublunary orb as into a place of punishment for transgressions com- 
 mitted 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 
 
CHAr. XXII.] CICERO ON OLD AGE. 251 
 
 XXII. Moreover, in Xenophon, Cyrus the elder,* on his 
 death-bed, discourses thus: "Never imagine, 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 honours 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 to the source from whence 
 they sprang : whereas the soul alone, neither shows itself 
 when it is with us, nor when it departs. Further, you see 
 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. I From which we conclude in what state they will be 
 
 Platonic schools, which undoubtedly produced the most respectable philo- 
 sophers 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.) 
 
 * Cyrus Major. The character of this Cyrus is drawn by Xenophon in 
 his Cyropaedia. He was king of Persia, son of Cambyses and Mandane, 
 daughter of Astyages, king of Media. He dethroned Astyages, and trans- 
 ferred the Persian empire to the Medes. The Cyropaedia is not to be looked 
 upon as an authentic history, but as showing what a good and virtuous prince 
 ought to be. 
 
 f There is surely a nearer apprehension of anything that delights us in 
 our dreams than in our waking senses, without this I were unhappy, for my 
 awaked 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 hisarms. I thank God for my happy dreams, as I do for my goo:^ 
 rest, for there is a satisfaction in them unto 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 
 
''^^^ CICEKO ON OLD AGE. [CHAP. XXI. 
 
 when they shall have altogether released themselves from the 
 fetters of the body. Wherefore, if this is the case, regard me 
 
 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 awaking conceptions do not match the fan- 
 cies of our sleeps. . I am in no way facetious, not disposed for the mirth 
 and galliardize of company, yet in one dream I can compose a whole co- 
 medy, behld the action, 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 devotions ; but out grosser memories have then so little 
 hold of our abstracted understandings that they forget the story, and can 
 only relate to our awaked souls, a confused arid broken tale of that that 
 hath passed. Aristotle, who hath written a singular tract of 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 walk 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. xi. 
 
 " Dream.s" 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 ac:)s 
 in conjuctionwith a companion, that is so heavy and unwieldy in its motion. 
 But in dreams it is wonderful to observe withwhata 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 that the mind is imposed upon, and 
 mistakes its own suggestions for the compositions of another. I must not 
 omit that argument for the the excellency of the soul which I have seen 
 quoted out of TertuUian, 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 least degree of a common historical 
 faith ; there being innumerable instances of this nature in several authors, 
 both ancient and modern, sacred and profane. Whether such dark pre- 
 sages, 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 
 
CHAP. XXIII.j CTOEIIO ON OLD AGE. 259 
 
 as a god, but if the soul is destined to perish along with tlie 
 body, yet you, reverencing the gods, who oversee and control 
 all this beautiful system, will affectio-nately and sacredly pre- 
 serve my memory." Such were the dying words of Cyrus. 
 
 XXIII. Let me, if you please, revert to my own views. 
 No one will ever persuade me that either your father, Paulus, 
 or two grandfathers, 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 upwards, has ever looked forward to posterity, as if, when 
 it had departed from life, then at last it would begin to live.* 
 
 a great dispute amongst the learned. The matter of fact is, I think, in- 
 contestable, and has been looked upon as such by the greatest writers who 
 have been never suspected 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 entangled 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." — Spec- 
 tator, No. 487. 
 
 * Dr. Thomas Brown attaches no value to the argument for the immor- 
 tality of the soul, derived from the aspiration after it which is common to 
 all. ^' I am aware," he says, " that in judging from the mind itself 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 powerful arguments 
 for our continued existence, after life has seemed to close upon us for ever. 
 I allude to the universal desire of this immortal existence. But surely, it 
 life itself be pleasing, and even though there were no existence beyond the 
 grave, — life might still, by the benevolence 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 protracted life. It would hideed have 
 been worthy of our astonishment if man, loving his present life, and 
 
 s2 
 
26C CICERO ON OLD AGE. [CHAP. XXIIL 
 
 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. * Why need I 
 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 
 
 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 desire 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 the realities, the hones of life— so pleasing 
 that the mere loss of what is possessed, or hopco, appears like a positive 
 evil of the most afflicting kind." — Dr. Brown's Moral Philosophy, sec. 97. 
 * " I am fully persuaded that one of the best springs of generous and 
 worthy actions is having generous and worthy thoughts of ourselves. Who- 
 ever 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 he considers 
 his being as circtunscribed by the uncertain term of a few years, his designs 
 will be contracted into the same narrow space he imagines is to bound his 
 existence. How can he exalt his thoughts to an v thing great and noblS; 
 who only believes that after a short turn on the stage of this world, he is 
 to sink into oblivion, and to lose his consciousness for ever ? For this 
 reason I am of opinion that so useful and elevated a contemplation as that 
 of the soul's immortality cannot be resumed too often. There is not a 
 more improving exercise to the human mind than to be frequently review- 
 ing its own great privileges and endowments, nor a more effectual means 
 to awaken in us an ambition raised above low objects and little pursuits, 
 than to vahie 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 motive, and ^vill 
 serve sometimes to revive our activity, when we begin to languish and lose 
 aght of that more certain, more valuable, and more durable 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 recompence which 
 mortals can bestow on virtue, to be accepted with complacence, but not 
 sought with eagerness. Simply to be remembered is no advantage ; it is 
 a privilege which satire as well as panegyric can confer, and is not more 
 enjoyed by Titus or Constantine than by Timocrean 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 reproach. The true satisfaction which 
 is to be drawn from the consciousness 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 cannot benefit in our lives, may 
 receive instruction from our examples and incitement from our renown."— 
 Rambler, No. 49. 
 
CHAP. XXni.J CICERO ON OLD AGE. 261 
 
 is passing to a better state, while that body, whose vision is 
 duUer, 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 vn'itten. Whither, indeed, as I proceed, no 
 one assuredly should easily force me back, nor, as they did 
 with Pelias, cook me again to youth. Foi 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 :* nor in truth should I like, after having run, as it were, 
 my course, to be called back to the starting-place f 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 
 son Cato, J than whom never was better man born, nor 
 
 * " 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 begiu 
 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 growing 
 judgment daily instruct me how to be better, but my untamed affectiims 
 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. 
 
 f Ad carceres a calce : carceres or repagula, from which the horseg 
 started. A line called creta or calx was drawn, to mark the end of the 
 course. 
 
 :J: This apostrophe has suggested to the greatest of modem pulpit ora- 
 tors one of his most eloquent perorations. " If," says Robert Hall, " the 
 mere conception of the reunion of good men m a future state infused a 
 momentary rapture into the mind of TuUy; if an airy speculation, for 
 
262 CICERO ON OLD AGE. [CHAP. XXin. 
 
 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 Lgelius 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 1 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 
 ridicule this my delusion. But if we are not destined to be 
 immortal, 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 consum- 
 mation of life, just as of a play ; from the fatigue of which 
 we ought to escape, especially 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 approbation. 
 
 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 labour 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 
 amidst the splendom-s and fruitions of the beatific vision." — Funeral Sermon 
 for Dr. Ryland. 
 
PARADOXES. 
 
 ADDRESSED TO MARCUS BRUTUS. 
 
 I HAVE often observed, O Brutus, that jour unele 
 Cato, when lie 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 conmion people ; and belongs 
 to that sect which aims at no embellishments, and does not 
 <pin out an argument. He therefore succeeds in what he 
 lias 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 
 modestv, 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 CTCERO'S PARADOXES. [PAR. I. 
 
 expressions were one thing, and a popular mode o^ 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,* 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 
 things, treasures, magnificent mansions, interest, power, or 
 
 * The ethical doctrines of the Stoics have attracted most attention, as 
 exhibited in the lives of distin^jiiished Greeks and Romans. To live 
 according to nature v^as the basis of their ethical system ; but by this it 
 was not meant that a man should follow his own particular nature ; he 
 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 "vhat is our relation to the whole 
 of things, is to know what we ou!J;ht 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 p()S- 
 sesses 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 moraJity of the Stoics, at least in the later 
 periods, though i-t rested on a basis a^enarently so sound, permitted the 
 wise man to do nearly everything thatyie 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 compatible with th« 
 exi:»tence of any actual society. 
 
PAR. I.] CICERO S PARADOXES. 265 
 
 those pleasures to wMcli mankind are most chiefly addicted. 
 For I have observed, that those to vrhom these things 
 abounded, still desired them most : for the thirst of cupidity- 
 is never filled or satiated. Thej 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 
 afilxed the appellation of good to those weak, fleeting, 
 circumstances of wealth, when in truth and fact their senti- 
 ments were the very reverse.* 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 Avith 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.t But some one will ask. What then is a real 
 good ? Whatever is done uprisrhtly, honestly, and virtu- 
 ously, 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, 
 
 * I cannot call riches better than the baggage of virtue ; the Roman 
 word is better, " impedimenta ;" for as the baggage is to an army, so is 
 riches to virtue, it cannot be spared nor left behind, but it hindereth the 
 march; yea, and the care of it sometimes loseth or disturbeth the victory; 
 of great riches there is no real use, except it be in the distribution : the 
 rest is but conceit. — Lord Bacon, Essay 34. 
 
 f Ovid expresses the same idea in the following passage :— 
 " Et genus et prnavos et quae non fecimus ipsi 
 Vix ea nostra voco. 
 
266 Cicero's paradoxes. [par. l 
 
 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 cau regard as their object, riches, pleasure, or any- 
 thing else than acting the part of a great and a gallant man ? 
 What motive impelled Caius Mucins, 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 
 
 * Horace develops the same thought. In commending decision of cha- 
 racter, he writes : — 
 
 Hac arte Pollux et vagus Hercules 
 Enisus arces attigit igneas : 
 
 Q,uos inter Augustus recumbens 
 
 Purpureo bibit ore nectar. 
 
 Hac te merentem, Bacche pater, tuae 
 
 Vexere tigres indocili jugum 
 
 Collo trahentes : hac Quirinus 
 
 Martis equis Acheronta fugit. — Carm. lib. iii. carm. 3 
 
PAR. I.] Cicero's paradoxes. 26T 
 
 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 are 
 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.* Shall you, endowed as you are 
 by God or by nature, whom we may term the mother of all 
 
 ♦ That pleasure is man's chiefest good (because indeed it is the percep- 
 tion 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 discourse. 
 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 con- 
 versant both about the faculties of the body and of the soul respectively; 
 as being the resiilt 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 gratification ; 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 opportunities 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 everything that is suitable under the character of 
 unla^vful ? 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 torment of an unsatisfied desire ; 
 a thing hugely contrary to the natural felicity of the creature, and conse- 
 qwently 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 ol 
 
26^ CICERO'S PARADOXES. [PAR. I. 
 
 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 
 defended 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 ; * 
 surely to live well and happily, is nothing else than to live 
 virtuously and rightly.f 
 
 sense and appetite, has no relish 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 advanced himself to a state of superiority over the 
 control of his inferior appetites, 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. 
 
 * " All pleasures that aflfect the body must needs weary, because they 
 transport ; and all transportation is a violence, and no violence can be 
 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 clone to it. But 
 tlie religious pleasure of a well-disposed mind moves gently, and therefore 
 constantly; it does not affecft by rapture and ecstasy; but is like the plea- 
 sure of health, which is still and sober, yet greater and stronger than those 
 that call up the senses with grosser and more afi^ecting impressions. God 
 has given no man a body as strong as his appetites ; but has corrected the 
 boundlessness of his voluptuou3 desires by stinting his strength and con- 
 tracting his capacities." — Ibid. 
 
 t " 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 appen- 
 dant sting, no consequent loathing, no remorses, or bitter farewells ; hut 
 such an one as, being honey in the mouth, 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 is never 
 
PAR. II.] CICEKO'S PARADOXES. 269 
 
 PAEADOX IL 
 
 A MAlf 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 honour ; 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.* We have seen 
 
 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, blessedness, 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 I. 
 
 * '' 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 themselves ex- 
 alted, 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 irreversible 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 stubbornness 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, there- 
 fore, when they endeavour to arm their followers with arguments against it, 
 they may be thought to have given up their first position. But such 
 inconsistencies are to be expected from the greatest understandings, when 
 they endeavour to grow eminent by singularity, and employ their strength 
 in establishing opinions opposite to nature. The controversy about the 
 reality of external evils is now at an end. That life has many miseries, 
 and that those miseries are, sometimes at least, equal to all the powers oi 
 
270 CICEEO'S PAEADOXES. [PAR. II. 
 
 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, fooUsh man, thou knowest not what power virtue 
 possesses ; thou only usurpest the name of virtue ; thou 
 nrt 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.* 
 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 
 w hat purpose have 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 result, 
 as that neither the outrages of fortune nor the injuries of 
 enemies can shatter me. Do you threaten me with death,t 
 which is separating me from mankind ? Or with exile, 
 
 fortitude, is now universally confessed ; and therefore, it is useful to con- 
 sider not only how we may escape them, but by what means those which 
 either the accidents of affairs, or the infirmities 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, Rambler, No. 32. 
 
 * " There is nothing that can raise a man to that generous absoluteness 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, sneak 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 in- 
 terest, which yet can have no advantage of a man, but from his own 
 expectations of something that is withont 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. 
 
 t To be understood as addressed to Anthony. Virgil has a similar 
 "dea > — 
 
 *' Breve et irreparabile tempus, 
 Omnibus est vitae, sed famam extendere factis 
 Vluc virtutis opus." — ^ii>- X. ver. 467 — 469. 
 
P AH lU.] CICERO*S PABADOXES. 271 
 
 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 prosperous. 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 
 appal thee ; look where thou wilt, thy crimes, like so many 
 furies, meet thy view and suffer thee not to breathe.* There- 
 fore, as no man can be happy if he is wicked, foolish, or indo- 
 lent ; so no man can be wretched, 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, pros- 
 perous, and desirable. 
 
 PARADOX III. 
 
 THAT ALL MISDEEDS ARE EST 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.f The fact in 
 
 * " Though," says South, in the sermon from which we have several 
 times quoted, " company may reprieve a man from his melancholy, yet it 
 cannot secure him from his conscience, nor fr< m 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 feels for one hour, when his conscience 
 shall take him aside and rate him by himself." 
 
 + The ethical principle of Cicero, so far from having been improved 
 upon in modern times, shows in favourable 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 general 
 happiness. 
 
 '* So then actions are to be estimated by their tendency. Whatever is 
 
272 CICERO'S PARADOXES. L^-^- "^ 
 
 whicli 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 
 desire 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 you have 
 done this, a crime has been committed ; nor does it matter 
 in aggravation of the fault how far you run afterwards ; 
 
 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 objection, 
 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 employs his in- 
 fluence and fortune, to annoy, corrupt, or oppress, all about him. His 
 estate would devolve, by his death, to a successor of an opposite character. 
 It is useful, therefore, to despatch such a one as soon as possible out of the 
 way ; as the neighbourhood will exchange thereby a pernicious tyrant for a 
 wise and generous benefactor. It might be useful 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 clothing 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 Parlia- 
 ment, by bribery or false swearing : as by means of them we may serve 
 the public more eifectually 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 princi- 
 ple, 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, par- 
 ticular and general. The particular bad consequence 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 occa- 
 sion, to his family, friends, and dependants. The general bad consequence 
 is the violation 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 consequences, 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 Philo- 
 sophy. 
 
PAR. III.] CICERO's PAEADOXES. 27^ 
 
 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 amongst themselves, it 
 must necessarily follow that vices are so likewise; and it is 
 most easy to be perceived that a man cannot 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 
 -udthout 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 ?* 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 <rirtue ; nothing can be 
 taken from it, and rhe name of virtue be left. If good offices 
 are done with an upright intention, nothing can be more 
 upright than upright is ; and therefore it is impossible that 
 any thing should be better than what is good. It there- 
 fore 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. JMeanwhile as we af e contending, 
 not with blows, but with words, I ask you whether good 
 men should inquire what was the opinion of porters and 
 labourers, or that of the wisest of mankind ? Especially too 
 
 * The reader will probably be reminded by this passage of the words of 
 the Great Teacher : " lie that is faithful in that which is least, is faithful 
 also in much. And he that is unjust in the least, is unjust also in much.** 
 — Luke. chap. xvi. 10. 
 
274 Cicero's paradoxes [par. ui 
 
 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 Lind of evil, than if they become sensible tliat there are 
 no degrees in sin ? 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 cannot 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 favourable; 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 
 offence 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 offence, but what is the rule of right to each 
 individual. We are to consider everything that is not be- 
 coming as wicked, and everything which is unlawful as 
 heinous. What I 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 ly.] CICERO'S PARADOXES. 275 
 
 of conduct ? I overlook the trifling faults of a poet ; but 
 shaU I approve mj fellow citizen's life while he is counting 
 his misdeeds with his fingers ? If some of these are trifling,* 
 how can it be regarded as more venial when whatever wrong 
 is committed, is committed to the violation of reason and 
 order ? Now, if reason and order are violated, nothing can 
 be added bj which the offence can seem to be aggravated. 
 
 PARADOX IV. 
 
 THAT EVERT FOOL IS A MADMAN. 
 
 I WILL now convict jou,! 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 ? Surely, not every assembly of thieves and 
 ruffians ? Is it then the entire rabble of outlaws and 
 robbers assembled in one place ? No ; you will doubtless 
 reply. Then this was no eommunity 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 headed 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 
 
 * 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. 
 
 f This paradox takes for its illustration the life of Publius Clodius, a 
 Roman soldier of noble birth, but infamous for the corruption of his morals. 
 He was ultimately slain by the retinue of Milo, in a rencontre which took 
 place between the two as Milo was journeying towards Lanuvium, his native 
 place, and Clodius was on his way to Rome. 
 
 T 2 
 
276 ClUEROS PARADOXES. [PAB. IV 
 
 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 com- 
 munity, had been restored. 
 
 But see how much I despised the shafts of your villany. 
 That you aimed your villanous 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 citizens. 
 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 his 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 aU 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 crimi- 
 nals, aU the profligates, of whom you avow yourself tha 
 
PAR. V.J CICERO'S PARADOXES. 277 
 
 leader, and 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, wdlt 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 tempL ,/f 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.* As therefore 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 general^ be celebrated, or let him be honoured 
 with that title, or let him be thought worthy of it. But 
 how or over what free man will he exercise control who 
 cannot command his own passions ?J Let him in the first 
 
 * " Among other offences Clodius is said to have violated, the mysteries 
 of the Bona Dea by penetrating into the house of Caesar during their 
 celebration, disguised in female attire. He 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'a 
 Cicero : Historical Index. 
 
 t Supposed to refer to Marcus Antonius. 
 
 + On this principle Lactantius 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 I'apacious winged creatures, than he 
 
278 CICERO'S PARADOXES. [PAE. V 
 
 place bridle his lusts, let nim de&pise pleasures, let him 
 subdue anger, let hira 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. * But while he is subservient 
 to these, not only 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 restrains his own craving desires; nor the man 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, Avhich are the more destructive 
 inasmuch as evils that are internal and part of ourselves, are worse than 
 those which may be shunned and avoided. 
 
 * " Rest 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 without 
 thee. Make the quarrelling Lapithytes sleep, and Centaurs within lie 
 quiet. Chain up the unruly legion of thy breast. Lead thine own capti- 
 vity captive, and be Caesar within thyself."-— Sir Thomas Brown's Christian 
 Morals, Part I. chap. 2. 
 
 " Be not,'' says the same author, "a Herculeus fureus abroad, and a poltroon 
 within thyself. To chase our enemies out of the field, and be led captive 
 by our vices ; to beat dov/n our foes, and fall down to our concupiscences ; 
 are solecisms in moral schools, and no laurel attends thereon. To well 
 manage our aflPections, and wild horses of Plato, are the highest circenses ; 
 and the noblest digladiation is in the theatre 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 com- 
 batants with nets, frauds, and entanglements 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 armour of Achilles, but the armature 
 of St. Paul, gives the glorious day, and triumphs, not leading up into 
 capitols, but up into the highest heavens. And, therefore, while so many 
 think it the only valour 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 the intelli- 
 gences of the superior faculties, not by the rapt of passion, nor merely by 
 that of temper 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 automatons part of mankind, rather lived than living, or 
 at least anderliving themselves." — Ibid. chap. 24. 
 
PAB. V.'J 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 anything 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 ;^' 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 moulded by his character."! To the 
 
 * That is, his understanding, as distinct from his passions, 
 f " The regulation of every man's plan," says John Foster, 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 differ- 
 ence 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 helpless passivenesa 
 from one to another ; having no determined principle in their own charac- 
 ters by which they could constrain those events to serve a design formed 
 antecedently to them, or apparently in defiance of them. The events 
 seized 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.'' 
 Shakspeare 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 Cffisar. 
 And a far earher, and scarcely less skilful anatomist of human nature thjs 
 apostrophizes the imaginary goddess: 
 
 " Nullum numen babes, si sit prudentia ; nos te, 
 Nos facimus, Fortune, deam, coeloquje locamus." 
 
 Juvenal, Sat. v. 365, 36G. 
 
280 Cicero's paradoxes. [par. v 
 
 wise man alone it happens, that he does nothing against his 
 will, nothing with pain, notliing 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 in- 
 credible 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 obe- 
 dience to a disordered, abject mind, destitute of self-control 
 be slavery (and such it is"^'), who can deny that all the dis- 
 honest, all the covetous, in short, all the wicked, are slaves ? 
 Can I call the man free whom a woman governs, to whom 
 she t gives laws, lays down directions, orders and forbids 
 what to her seems- fit ; while he can deny and dare refuse 
 nothing that she commands ?| Does she ask ? He must give. 
 
 Lord Bacon also sanctions the same proposition with his unvarying wisdom. 
 " It cannot be denied but outward accidents conduce much to fortune ; 
 favour, opportunity, death of others, occasion fitting virtue, but chiefly, the 
 mould of a man's fortune is in his own hands : ' Faber quisque fortunae suae,' 
 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 stonds 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 chat that he had, ' versatile ingenium ;' 
 therefore, if a man look sharply d-.J attentively, he shall see fortune ; for 
 though she be bUnd, 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." 
 
 * 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 righteous- 
 ness ?" — Epist. Rom., chap, 6, ver. 16. 
 
 t The reference is to Antony's amorous subserviency to Cleopatra. 
 
 J " 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 wisdom, 
 did both of them disobey their Creator by the persuasion, and for the love 
 they bare to a woman, it is not so wonderful as lamentable, that other 
 
PAii. V.J 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 them- 
 selves as more genteel than others, such as porters or 
 gardeners, yet still they are slaves j 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 furniture, brush it, anoint their masters, 
 who sweep, and water, do not occupy the highest rank 
 of servitude; in like manner 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 
 carry about you a soul worthy of praise. A painting of 
 Echion, or some statue of Polycletus, holds you bereft of 
 
 men in succeeding ages have been allured to so many inconvenient and 
 wicked practices bv 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 fortitude to sup- 
 port you in asserting it. A man has enough to do to conquer his ow^n 
 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 im- 
 portunity 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 circimastance 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 ycd 
 were designed by nature; but in compliance to her weaknesses, you have 
 disabled yourself from avoiding the misfortunes 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 obtam a trifle, by 
 habitual success will oblige the unhappy man who gives way to it, to resign 
 the cause even of his country and his honour." — Addison. Spectator. Na 
 510. 
 
282 Cicero's paradoxes. 
 
 [par. 
 
 your senses : I shall not mention from whom you took it, or 
 by what means you possess it : but when 1 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 honours 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 Roman 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 greedi- 
 ness for wealth spurn no condition of the hardest servitude ? 
 To what meanness of slavery will not the hope of succeed- 
 ing to an estate make a man stoop ? * 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 free 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 
 greatest men in Rome to be slaves to Cethegus, a person 
 not the most respectable, to send him presents, to wait upon 
 
 * '• Riches gotten by service, though it be of the best rise, yet when they 
 are gotten by flattery, feeding humours, and other servile conditions, they 
 may be placed amongst the worst. As for fishing for testaments and exe- 
 cutorships, (as Tacitus saith of Seneca, Testamenta et orbos tamquam inda- 
 gine capi,) it is yet worse, by how much men submit themselves to meaner 
 persons than in service." — Lord Bacon, Essay 34. 
 
PAR. VI.] Cicero's paradoxes. 2S3 
 
 him at nights at liis 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 entrenched 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 YI. 
 
 THAT THE WISE MAN ALONE IS RICH. 
 
 W^hat means this unbecoming ostentation in making- 
 mention of your money ?* 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 aU ? What if you even are a beggar ? For 
 whom are we to understand to be a rich man ? To what 
 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- 
 * This paradox is addressed to Marcus Crassus 
 
284 CICERO'S PARADOXES. [PAR. VI. 
 
 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 cannot 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 for ever 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 cannot 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. Tfierefore, 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 auxi- 
 liaries of horse and foot.* You therefore, in fact, confess 
 
 * ** 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 downfall of 
 empires, or to contrive forms of lamentations for monarchs in distress, rank 
 all the classes of mankind in a state of poverty who make no approaches 
 to the dignity of crowns. To be poor in the epic language is only not to 
 
PAR. VT.] 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 despatching your freed - 
 men to fleece and plunder the provinces ; whoever calls to 
 mind your dispossessing your neighbours, 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 ? For the advantage 
 of riches consists in plenty, and this plenty declares the 
 overflow and abundance of the means 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 middling, 
 in yours next to nothing, and in mine sufficient— I shall 
 speak to the subject. Now if facts are to be weighed and 
 estimated by us, whether are we more to esteem — the money 
 of Pyrrhus which he sent to Fabricius, or the continency of 
 Fabricius for refusing that money? — the gold of the Sam- 
 nites, or the answer of Manius Curius ? — the inheritance of 
 Lucius Paul us, or the generosity of Africanus, who gave 
 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 
 
 command the wealth of nations, and to have fleets and armies in pay."— 
 Rambler, No. 202. 
 
286 CICERO*S PARADOXES. [PAR. VL 
 
 wealth. If, therefore, we are to rate every man rich only in 
 proportion to the valuable things he possesses, who ran 
 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, oi 
 whose estate maintains itself by its own resources?* 
 
 But why do I talk of myself, who through the contagion 
 of fashion and of the times, am perhaps a little infected with 
 the fault of the age ? In the memory of onr fathers, Manius 
 Manilius (not to mention continually the Curii and the Lus- 
 cinii) at length became poor; for he had only a little house 
 
 * *• Riches are of no yalue in themselves, their use is discovered only in 
 that vrhich they procure. They are not coveted unless by narrow under- 
 standings, which confound the means with the end, but for the sake of 
 power, influence, and esteem ; or by some of less elevated and refined sen- 
 timents 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 in- 
 fluence every man desires, but they are equally pleasing and equally valu- 
 able, by whatever means they are obtained ; and whoever has found the 
 art of securing them vpithout the help of money ought in reahty 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 
 honoured with the visit of Alexander the Great." — The Rambler, No. 202. 
 
PAIt. VI.J CICERO'S PAHADOXES. 287 
 
 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 skilful 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 
 cannot 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 resources 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 for ever 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 necessitous and beggared. 
 
THE 
 
 VISION OF SCIPIO 
 
 SCIPIO SPEAKS. 
 
 When I liad arrived in Africa as military tribune of tlie 
 fourth legion, as jou 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 
 rnformed myself from him about his kingdom, and he from 
 me about our government ; and that day was consumed in 
 much conversation on both sides. 
 
 Afterwards, 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 SUIl'lo. 289 
 
 talk when awake),* 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 cannot 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, f 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 mej. After you have 
 
 * " I believe that dreams are uniformly the resuscitation or re-embodimen*. 
 of thoughts which have formerly, in some shape or other, occupied the mind 
 They are old ideas revived, either in an entire state, or heterogeneousl} 
 mingled together. I doubt if it be possible for a person to have in a drean: 
 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, accord- 
 ing to the nature of the exciting cause. If, for instance, our reading or 
 conversation be of horrible subjects, such as spectres, murders, or confla- 
 grations, they will appear before us magnified 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 unattain- 
 able 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. 
 
 •f Soldier. The original is nunc venis pcBue 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. 
 
 X " Dreams have been looked upon by some as the occasional means of 
 giving us an insight into futurity. This opinion is so singularly un philoso- 
 phical that I would not have noticed it, were it not advocated even by 
 persons of good sense and education. In ancient tim.es it was so common 
 as to obtain universal belief ; and the greatest men placed as implicit faith 
 in it as in any fact of which their own senses afforded them cognizanco. 
 
 U 
 
290 THE VISION OF SCIPIO. 
 
 dfsstroyed 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 
 ^^ ar, 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 machina- 
 tions of my grandson ;* and here, my Africanus, you must 
 display to your country the lustre 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 eightt oblique journeys and returns of the sun ; 
 
 That it is wholly erroneous, however, cannot 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 imder 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 Ruler 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 mi>ihty purpose connected with the general interests of the human 
 race ; but if faith is to be placed in modern miracles, we must suppose 
 that God suspended the above laws for the most trivial and useless of pur- 
 poses. 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 altogether the effect of chance ; and for one dream which turn 
 out to be 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 lattcx 
 are looked upon as mere idle vagaries, and speedily forgotten," — Macnish's 
 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 example. 
 My judgment is, that they ought all to be despised, and ought to serve but 
 for winter talk by the fireside." 
 
 * " Grandson. Meaning Tiberius Gracchus or his brother ; their mother 
 was daughter to the elder Africanus. I cannot help being of opinion that 
 Virgil took from this vision his first hint of the discourse which he intro- 
 duces in the sixth book of the ^neid, between -^neas and his father." — 
 Guthrie. 
 
 t " Seven times eight times. The critics and commentators have been 
 very profuse of their learning in explaining this passage. But since the 
 
THE VISION OP 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 
 towards 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 go- 
 vernment, if you can but escape the impious hands of your 
 kinsmen."* — Here, when Lselius 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 defence of f 
 your country, know from me, that a certain place in heaven I 
 is assigned to all who have preserved, or assisted, or im- 
 proved their country, where they are to enjoy an endless 
 duration of happiness. f For there is nothing which takes . 
 
 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 num- 
 bers, 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 and so fanciful, that though they are strengthened Avith the 
 greatest names of antiquity, it can be of very little use for a modern reader 
 to know them." — Guthrie. 
 
 * " There scarce can be a doubt that this passage was in Virgil's eye, 
 when he makes Anchises break out in that beautifiil exclamation in the 
 sixth book of the ^neid concerning Marcellus. 
 
 ' Heu miserande puer si qua fata aspera rumpas, 
 Tu Marcellus eris.' " — Guthrie, 
 t It seems to have strongly entered into the expectations of those eminent 
 sages of antiquity who embraced the doctrine of the soul's immortality, that 
 the felicity of the next life will partly arise, not only from a renewal of 
 those virtuous connexions 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 blest: — 
 The— 
 
 " Manus ob patriam pugnando vulnera passi , 
 Quique sacerdotes casti, dum vita manebat, 
 Quique pii vates, et Phcebo digna locuti, 
 Inventas aut qui vitam excoluere per artes 
 Quique sui memores alios fecere merendo." 
 
 Virg. ^n. vi. 664 
 " Patriots who perished for their country's right, 
 Or nobly triumphed in the field of fighi, 
 
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,* 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 poured forth a flood of tears ; but 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 tarry on 
 ^arth, and not hasten to come to you ?" 
 
 " Not so, my son (he replied) ; unless that God, whose 
 temple is all this which you behold, shall free you from this 
 
 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. 
 * " Plato, in the dialogue entitled, ' Phaedo,' 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 endeavours to esta- 
 blish the doctrine of the soul's future existence, upon the principle of its 
 having existed before its union with the body. This was attempting to sup- 
 port the truth of the hypothesis in question, by resting it on another al- 
 together conjectural and precarious. But these two propositions, though 
 totally distinct from, and unconnected with each other, were held by all the 
 ^yicient philosopers who maintained the future permanency of the soul, to 
 itave a mutual dependence, and necessarily to stand or fall together. For, 
 as they raised their arguments for the soul's immortality chiefly on meta- 
 physical ground ; they clearly perceive, as the very learned Cudworth ob- 
 terves, ' if it were once granted that the soul was generated, it could never 
 !fe proved but it might also be corrupted.' Reasonings of this kind, indeed, 
 dre generally more specious than satisfactory ; and perhaps, every sensible 
 reader, after perusing what the most acute metaphysicians have written on 
 this important article, will find himself not very far from the same state of 
 mind as Cicero's Tusculan disciple was after reading Plato ; ' nescio quo- 
 modo,' says he, ' dum lego assentior ; cum posui librum, assensio omnis 
 ilia elabitur.' " — Melmoth. 
 
THE VISION OF SCIPIO. 293 
 
 imprisonment in the body, you can have no admission to this 
 place j^ for men have been created under this condition, that/ 
 they should keep that globe which you see in the middle oft 
 this temple, and which is called the earth. And a soul hasj 
 been supplied to them from those eternal fires which youi 
 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.* Therefore, 
 Scipio, like your grandfather here, and me who begot you, 
 cultivate justice and piety; which, while it should be great 
 towards your parents and relations, should be greatest to- 
 wards your country.t 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."J y 
 
 Now the place my father spoke of was a radiant circle of 
 
 * This sentiment, in reprehension of the practice of suicide, has been 
 previously noticed in the notes on Cicero's Treatises on Friendship and 
 OJd 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. 
 
 t " The love of our country has often been found to be a deceitful prin- 
 ciple, 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 understood 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 be the votary of liberty and justice. lie will be ready to exert 
 himself in their defence wherever they exist. It cannot be a matter of in- 
 difference to him when his own liberty and that of other men, with whose 
 merits and capacities he has the best opportunity of being accquainted, 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 understand the value of political justice, and are 
 prepared to assert it, that is his country ; wherever he can most contribute 
 to the diffusion of these principles, and the real happiness of mankind, that 
 is his country. Nor does he desire for any country, any other benefit 
 tnan justice. — Godwin's Political Justice, book v. chap. xvi. 
 
 Z So Virgil, "Macte tu& virtute, puer, sic itur ad astra." 
 
294 THE VISION OF SCIPIO. 
 
 dazzling brightness amidst 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, marvellous 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.* 
 
 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 backwards, 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 
 
 * If we compare this passage with the fortieth chapter of the Prophe- 
 cies of Isaiah, and also the fourth eclogue of Virgil, with other parts of 
 the same prophecy, 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 SCIPIO. 295 
 
 souls which are given to the human race hj 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 
 centre of the whole system, is immovable and below all the 
 rest ; and all bodies, by their natural gravitation, tend 
 towards it." 
 
 Which, as I was gazing at in amazement I said, as I re- 
 covered 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 which* 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 become 
 deaf, for of all your senses it is the most blunted. f Thus, 
 
 * Mercury and Venus are the planets here referred to. 
 t The idea of the music of the spheres has embellished the compositions 
 of many po^'ts, both ancient and modern. One passage, however, in the 
 pages of Shakspeare 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 cannot compre- 
 hend it, just as you cannot look directly upon the sun, be- 
 cause 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 towards the earth. On 
 this Africanus said, " I perceive that even now you are con 
 templating the abode and home of the human race.* And 
 as this appears to you diminutive, as it really is, f 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 qviiring to the young-eyed cherubim. 
 
 Such harmony is in immortal souls: 
 
 But while this muddy vesture of decay 
 
 Doth grossly close us in, we cannot hear it." 
 
 Merchant of Venice. 
 * " If minds in general are not made to be strongly affected by the phe- 
 nomena 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 cataracts, 
 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 
 anything that we can see besides. 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 active manner." — John Foster, Essay I. 
 t " 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 labour and conjecture, a true notion 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 ; for until of late, that is to say, the last three centuries, it was not 
 certainly known whether this earth (itself unexpl(>red) were not the only 
 
THE VISION OF SCIPIO. 297 
 
 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 amidst 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 yo-u, 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 towards the vortexes of the heavens in both directions, 
 are rigid as you see with frost, while the middle and the 
 largest zone is burnt 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- 
 wards 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 towards the 
 south and north,* 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 ?f What inhabitant of 
 
 scene of life, and whether the sun, the stars, and the planets were anything 
 more than brilliants floating in an upper ether." — Taylor's Physical Theory 
 of Another Life, chap. 15. 
 
 * Which narrows towards the south and north, ^c. This is a very 
 curious 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 generally 
 thought to have been reserved for Sir Isaac Newton, and to have been con- 
 firmed by some late experiments ; but I own I am not Avithout 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 possessed or con- 
 quered by the Romans. — Guthrie. 
 
 t " What might be," says Dr. Johnson, after quoting t'lis passage, "the 
 
298 THE VISION OF SCIPIO. 
 
 the other parts of the east, or of the extreme regions of the 
 setting sun, of those tracts that run towards the south or 
 towards 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.* Now of 
 
 effect of these observations conveyed in Ciceronian eloquence to Roman un- 
 derstandings, cannot 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 designs ; for I am not inclined to believe, 
 that they who among us pass their lives in the cultivation of knowledge, or 
 acquisition of power, have very anxiously inquired what opinions prevail on 
 the further banks of the Ganges, 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 range 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. 
 
 " If, 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 re- 
 gard 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 
 anything external; all who are attracted by pleasure, or chained down by 
 pain to unvaried ideas ; ail who are withheld from attending his triumph by 
 different pursuits; and all who slumber in universal negligence, he will find 
 liis renown straitened by nearer bounds than the rocks of Caucasus, and 
 perceive that no man can be venerable, or formidable, but to a small part of 
 his fellow-creatures. 
 
 " That we may not languish in our endeavours after excellence it is neces- 
 sary that, as Africanus counsels his descendant, ' we raise our eyes to higher 
 prospects, and contemplate our future and eternal state, without giving up 
 our hearts to the praise of crowds, or fixing our hopes on such rewards as 
 human power can bestow." — Rambler, No. 118. 
 
 * " Lastly, leaving the vulgar arguments that by learning man excelleth 
 man in that wherein man excelleth beasts ; that by learning man ascendeth 
 to the heavens, and their motions, where iu body he caimot come, and the 
 like ; let ua conclude with the dignity and excellency of knowledge and 
 
THE VISION ov scmo. 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 amongst 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 
 
 learning in that whereunto man's nature doth most aspire, which is immor- 
 tality or continuance. For to this tendeth generation, and raising of houses 
 and families ; to this buildings, fovmdations, and monuments ; to this 
 tendeth the desire of memory, fame and celebration, 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 hun- 
 dred years or more, without the loss of a syllable or letter, during which 
 time infinite palaces, temples, castles, cities, have been decayed and demo- 
 lished ? It is not possible to have the true pictures or statues of Cyrus, 
 Alexander, Caesar, no, nor of the kings or great personages of much later 
 years ; for the originals cannot last, and the copies cannot but lose of the 
 life and truth. But the images of men's wits and knowledge remain in 
 books exempted from the wrong of time, and capable of perpetual renova- 
 tion. 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 opinions 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 participa- 
 tion 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 par- 
 ticipate 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 the 
 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 affections : 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, do disclaim these 
 rudiments of the senses." — Lord Bacon's Advancement of Learning 
 Book I. 
 
300 THE VISIO?^ OB^ 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. 
 
 If, therefore, you hope to return to this place, towards 
 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 ?* 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 
 rumours 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, f 
 
 * " Le cygne qui s'envole aux voutes etemelles, 
 Amis, s'informe-t-U si I'ombre de ses ailes. 
 Flotte encor sur un vil gazon ?" 
 
 Lamartine. Le Poete Mourant. 
 
 Tlie contrast between the vanity of posthumous fame and the glories of 
 a future state of happiness, is represented by Dr. South in the following 
 majestic passage. 
 
 " Time, 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 moulder 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 lustre, 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 appear 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." — South 'a 
 Sermons, Vol. I. Sermon 48. 
 
 t This is another of the instances in which the sentiments of Cicero co- 
 
THE vis: ON OF SCIPIO 301 
 
 Which when he had said, I replied, " Truly, 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 mortul. 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 delineated* 
 
 incide 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 hap- 
 peneth to them aU. 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 remembrance of the 
 wise more than of the fool for ever ; 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 vexation of spirit. Yea, I hated 
 all my labour 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 labour wherein 
 I have laboured, and wherein I have shewed myself wise under the sun. 
 This is also vanity. Therefore I went about to cause my heart to despair 
 of all the labour which I took under the sun. For there is a man whose 
 labour is in wisdom, and in knowledge, and in equity; yet to a man that hath 
 not laboured therein shall he leave it for his portion. This also is vanity 
 and a great evil. For what hath man of all his labour, and of the vexation 
 of his heart, wherein he hath laboured under the sun ? " 
 
 * 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 afterwards ceasing to be at all 
 related to them, the living agents, ourselves, remaining all this while un- 
 destroyed, notwithstanding such alienation; and consequently these systems 
 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 
 so form our relation to and interest in such other system of matter at death, 
 to be the destruction o the living agents. We have already several times 
 over lost a great part r perhaps the whole of our body, according to cer- 
 tain 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 com- 
 mon established law of nature, death, why may we not also remain the 
 game ? 
 
 That the alienation has been gradual in one case, and in the other will he 
 
302 THE VISION OP SCIPIO. 
 
 with a finger. Kn@w therefore* that you are a divine person. 
 Since it is divinityf 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 moving"]: is eternal ; now that which 
 communicates to another object a motion which it received 
 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 
 
 more at once, does not prove anything to the contrary. We have passed 
 undestroyed through those many and great revolutions of matter so pecu- 
 ilarly appropriated to us ourselves ; why should we imagine 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 adventitious 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 
 tliat any of these solid parts are dissolved or alienated by death. Though, by 
 the way, we are very nearly related to that extraneous or adventitious matter 
 whilst 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 it 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 imagination 
 is removed, that the dissolution of any matter is the destruction of a living 
 agent, from the interest he once had in such matter. 
 
 * 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 men- 
 tions the subject, he gives his own sentiments, but those of others : ac- 
 cordingly, in his first book, De Natura Deorum, he makes Veleius, one 
 of his prolocutors, absolutely destroy the doctrine which is advanced 
 here. — G-uthrie. 
 
 + " 'Tis the Divinity that stirs within us. 
 
 'Tis heaven itself that points out an hereafter, 
 And intimates eternity toman!" — Addison's Cato. 
 
 X All this doctjine is taken almost word for word from the Phcedrus 
 of Plato, and Macrobius has reduced it to the following syllogism. The 
 soul is self-motive ; now self-motion contains the principle of motion, the 
 principle of motion is not created, therefore the soul is not created. — 
 Guthrie. 
 
ilE VISION Otr SCLPlo. 303 
 
 its own properties, neither is this self-motion ever at an end ; 
 nav, 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 primeeval 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.* 
 
 Since therefore it is plain that whatever is self-motive 
 must be eternal, who can deny that this natural property is 
 bestowed upon our minds? f For every thing that is moved 
 
 * It only remains then to bring this idea of the material word into con- 
 nexion with the principle that motion in all cases, originates from mind ; 
 or in other words, is the eiiect 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 \asible and palpable world then, according to 
 this theory, is motion, constant and uniform, emanating from infinite centres, 
 and springing during every instant of its continuance from the creatiye 
 energy. The instantaneous cessation of this energy, at any period, is there- 
 fore 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, irre- 
 spective of other reasons, the one member may be as easily taken as the 
 other ; just 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 in- 
 stant of a power which has been exerted in this instant; it would be, not a 
 destruction, but a rest; not a crash and ruin, but a pause. — Taylor's Physi- 
 cal Theory of Another Life, chap. x\m. 
 
 + " It is motion that measures duration, and time is duration, measured 
 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 wherein 
 duration and extension combine to form a common prod:ict, so mind must 
 
304 THE VISION OF SCIPIO. 
 
 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 
 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,* and this will be the more rapid, i^ 
 
 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 duration ; in other 
 words, it is only in connexion with matter that it can know anything 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 come to exist at a more even 
 velocity, if we may so speak, than could else be possible, and learn uncon- 
 sciously 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 i 
 remedy found for its undue fixedness ; and thus all minds are brought tc 
 move together at nearly the same rate, or at least as nearly so as is essen 
 tial for securing the order and harmony of the social system. 
 
 " But then, this same intimate connexion between mind and matter, while 
 it exposes the mind, passively, to the influence of the inferior element, be- 
 comes 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 contractions, as applied to the 
 body itself, or to other bodies, puts it or them in movement. This powei 
 of the mind in overcoming the vis inertice of matter and the force of gravi- 
 tation, is the only active influence in relation 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 ascertained, 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 ex- 
 cepted, supposing it to exist, the mechanical power of the mind is the only 
 one it enjoys ; but this it enjoys in no mean degree. It may, without much 
 hazard, be assumed, that motion in all instances originates in an immediate 
 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. 
 
 * We cannot better conclude our notes on this interesting fragment, than 
 by the peroration of that sermon of the late Robert Hall which was pos- 
 sibly suggested by this passage, as indeed some of the greatest beauties ot 
 that discourse seem to have been, by passages from the foregoing treatises ot 
 Cicero : — 
 
THE VISION OF SCIPIO. 30.5 
 
 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. 
 
 •* To that state all the pious on earth axe 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. Tht wheels of nature are not made to roll 
 backward. Everything presses on toeternity. From the birth oftime animpe- 
 tuous current has set in, which bears all the sons of men towards that inter- 
 minable ocean. Meanwhile, heaven is attracting to itself, whatever is con- 
 genial to its nature, is enriching itself by the spoils of the earth, and col- 
 lecting within its capacious bosom whatever is pure, permanent, and divine, 
 leaving nothing for the last fire to consume but the objects and slaves of 
 concupiscence; while everything 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 for ever. While everything within us and around 
 us reminds us of the approach of death, and concurs 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 disarmed of its terrors ?''' — Hall's Funeral Sermon for Dr. 
 Ryland. 
 
30(j OIOERO ON THE 
 
 ON THE 
 
 DUTIES OF A MAGISTRATE. 
 
 ADDRESSED TO HIS BROTHER QUINTUS.* 
 
 Though I doubt notf that many messengers and indeed 
 that rumour 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 labours, 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 
 
 * Quintus Cicero was at this time propraetor of Asia Minor. 
 
 + 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 person 
 who subsequently reads the letter 
 
DUTIES OF A MAGISTRATE. ^^^ 
 
 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,:): and with the desire of increasing my own glory 
 through your merits ; especially 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 
 posterity. 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 
 
 * 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 com- 
 merce.." — Guthrie. 
 
 X 2 
 
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,* 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, a& 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 
 
 * So Cicero in his speech in support of the Manilian Law, says, in 
 speaking of this same class : — " Equitibus Romanis honestissimis viris, af- 
 feruntur ex Asia quotidie literse quorum magnee res aguntur, in vestris vecti- 
 galibus exercendis occupatae ; qui ad me, pro neccessitudine, quae mihi est 
 cum illo ordiiie, causam rei publicse periculaque rerum suarum detulerunt," 
 
 ^' Letters are daily brought from Asia, from Roman knights, most honour- 
 able men largely engaged in the farming of your revenues, who, in con- 
 sideration of the close relationship which subsists between me and that 
 order, have laid before me the cause of the state and the jeopardy of ther 
 own interests." 
 
DUTIES OF A MAGISTRATE. 3U9 
 
 from the records of their ancient history, or some divine 
 person from heaven has descended upon that province.* 
 
 I write to you in this strain, not that you might practise 
 these things, but that you may rejoice that you do practise 
 them, and that you have ever done so. For it is a glorious 
 thing for a man to have been invested with 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 !t Again, 
 
 * 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 instituto cursu ad preedam aliquam devocavit, non 
 libido ad voluptatem, non amcenitas ad delectation em, non nobilitas urbis ad 
 cognitionem, non denique labor ipse ad quietem Postremo signa, et tabulas, 
 ceteraque ornamenta Graecorum oppidorum, quae ceteri toUenda esse 
 arbitrantur, ea sibi ille ne visenda quidem existimavit. Itaque omnes quidem, 
 nunc in his locis Cn. 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 futigue 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 Ponnpey, not as a certain individual despatched 
 from this city, but as one descended from heaven." 
 
 'I' " Statues and paintings, and works of art in general, were favourite 
 objects of rapacity with the Roman commanders, and were carried off with- 
 out any scruple. The statues and pictures which Marcellus transported 
 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. Marcellus and Mummius 
 however, despoiled only hostile and conquered countries. They had made 
 over their plunder to the public, and after it was conveyed to Rome, 
 devoted it to the embellishment of the capital; but subsequent 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 plausible pretexts for borrowing 
 valuable works of art from cities and private persons; without any intention 
 of restoring them, while others, less cautious or more shameless, seized 
 whatever pleased them, whether public or private property, without excuse 
 or remuneration. But though this passion was common to most provincial 
 governors, none of them ever came up to the full measure of the rapacity 
 of Verres, when praetor of Scily. He seized tapestry, pictures, gold and 
 silver, plate, vases, gems, and Corinthian bronzes, till he literally did not 
 leave a single article of value of these descriptions in the whole island." — 
 Dunlop's Roman Literature, vol. ii. page 284. 
 
310 CICERO ON THE 
 
 what can be a more distinguished, a more desirable circum- 
 stance, than that this virtue, this moderation, this purity of 
 mind, should not be buried or concealed in darkness, but dis- 
 played 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 approach ! — that there is the utmost 
 rejoicing, both public and private, vv^herever you go ! — that 
 every town seems to receive you as its guardian, not as its 
 tyrant ! — every house as a gueet, and not as a robber !* 
 
 But upon this subject, experience by this time must have 
 instructed you that it is not sufficient for you alone to 
 practise 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, labours for 
 his own fame, so as, with a brotherly affection for us, to 
 labour equally for ours. You have a quaestor,*]' whom lot, and 
 
 * Ejusmodi in provinciam homines cum imperio mittimus, ut, etiam si 
 ab hoste defendant, tamen ipsorum adventus in urbes sociorum non 
 multum ab hostili expugnatione diiferant. Hunc audiebant antea, nunc 
 praesentem vident, tanta temperantia, tanta mansuetudine, tanta humanitate, 
 ut is beatissimi esse videantur, apud quos ille diutissime commoratur." 
 
 " 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 dis- 
 tinguished by so much self-control, so much gentleness, so much humanity, 
 that those seem to be the most fortunate with whom he makes the longest 
 stay." — Cicero's Oration for the Manilian Law. 
 
 t QucBstor. This officer had the charge of the public money, and it wa* 
 determined by lot in what province he should serve. He likewise paid tht 
 soldiers, and acted as contractor for the army. 
 
DUTIES OF A MAGISTRATE. 311 
 
 not your own choice, appointed to you. It is necessary tLat 
 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 ;* but to pro- 
 portion 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.| 
 
 * Shakspeare 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 offence should bear its comment." 
 
 t 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 OUT safe passage through ways beset on all sides, by fraud and malice, 
 has been always considered, when it exceeds the common measures, 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 placing 
 it in comparison with something that we know : whoever therefore is over- 
 run with suspicion, and detects artifice and stratagem in every proposal, 
 
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 
 supposed 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 entrust 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 labour and service. Let the lictor 
 be the agent of your lenity rather than of his own, and let 
 his axe and his rods be stronger evidences of his post than 
 of his power. 
 
 In short, let all the province be sensible how dearly you 
 
 must either have learned by experience or observanon the wickedness of 
 mankind, and been t.mght to avoid fraud by having often suffered or seen 
 treachery, or he must derive his judgment from the consciousness of his own 
 disposition, and impute to others the same inchnations, which he feels 
 predominant in himself. 
 
 " When therefore a young man, not distinguished by vigour of intellect, 
 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 affection 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 forbear to consider him 
 as a wretch incapable of generosity or benevolence; as a villain early com- 
 pleted beyond the need of common opportunities 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 s-urrounded by secret foes, and 
 fears to entrust his children or his friend with the secret that throbs in his 
 breast and the anxieties tiiat 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 
 
 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 
 wiU give them, when it shall be clearly perceived that those 
 who pretend to have the greatest interest with you are ac- 
 customed to obtain nothing from you. 
 
 Yet this address of mine to you is not because I would 
 have you treat your dependants 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 Cassius, 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 offence, or of whom you have known any- 
 thing ill, never entrust anything 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 amongst 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 veils. His nature, his 
 brows, his eyes, and very often his countenance are deceitful, 
 and his speech is most commonly 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 cannot be separated, where can you find one 
 who will sincerely love you, a mere stranger to them, and 
 not pretend 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 preetors. 
 HoAvever, if amongst such kind of men you should find one 
 (for the thing is not impossible), who loves you more than 
 he does his own interest, eagerly enrol such a man in the 
 number of your friends ; but if you do not perceive this, there 
 will be no class in your acquaintance more to be avoided : 
 because they know all the arts of getting money, they do 
 
314 CICERO ON TH2B 
 
 nothing bat for money, and they are indifferent about the 
 opinion of any man with whom they are not to continue 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.* All of 
 these I would say should be liberally treated, and the best 
 of them received 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 commmand 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 travelling over 
 the Appian way, and that they think there is not the least 
 difference whether they were entering Trallesf or Formiae.J 
 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 
 any public concern, or anything relating to the business of 
 your government. For though many things may properly 
 
 * Juvenal alludes to the same characteristic vice of the Greeks in tha 
 following passages: — 
 
 Quae nunc divitibus gens acceptissima nostris, 
 Et quos praecipue fugiam, properabo fateri; 
 Nee pud or obstabit. Non possum ferre, Quirites, 
 Graecam urbem, quamvis quota portio faBcis Acha^i. 
 
 * » * * » 
 
 Natio comceda est : rides ? majore cachinno 
 Concutitur : flet si lachrymas conspexit amici. 
 Nee dolet. Igniculum brumae si tempore poscas, 
 Accipit endromidem : si dixeris, aestuo, sudat. 
 
 f A city in Caria under the government of Quintus- 
 
 X A city of Campania in Italy. 
 
DUTIES OF A MAGISTRATE. 315 
 
 be entrusted to our faithful slaves, yet for the sake of avoid- 
 ing 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 behaviour 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 private and 
 daily concerns, but they must appear divine amidst such 
 great power, such depraved manners, and so corrupting a 
 province. 
 
 Such a plan, and such regulations, will be sufficient to 
 support 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 individual — 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 dis- 
 honest prey. Wherefore we could not easily maintain those 
 and the other instances of severity which you have practised 
 in that province, without the most perfect integrity. 
 
 There should therefore be the utmost rigour in your ad- 
 ministration of justice, so that it should not be affected by 
 favour, but maintained without variation.* It is, however, 
 
 * So impressed was Godwin with the supreme importance of uniformity 
 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 imagines he can do 
 something better than justice." Is it right that I should suffer constraint 
 
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 exercised, 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 restitu- 
 tion. 
 
 By reason of these qualities, Octavius* lately became most 
 popular, before whom, for the first time, the lictor had 
 
 for a certain offence ? The reasonableness of my suffering must be founded 
 in its consonance with the general welfare. He, therefore, that pardDUS me, 
 iiiiquitously 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 con- 
 trary, that I should not undergo the suffering in 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 deffect 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 public would sustain an unquestionable injury in the injustice 
 that was perpetrated : and yet the man who prevents this serious injustice, 
 has been accustomed to arrogate to himself the attribute of clement, and 
 the apparently 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- 
 corned, 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 fl>ws the uncertainty 
 of punishment. It is too evident that punishment is inflicted by no certain 
 rules, and therefore creates no uniformity of ex pectation. Uniformity of 
 treatment, and constancy of expectation, form the sole 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 refinement of injustice that shovdd 
 exhibit the perpetual menace of suffering unaccompanied with any certain 
 rule for telling ivs application." — Godwin's Political Justice, book vii. ch ix. 
 • Octanius. He was father to Augustus Caesar, and had been about this 
 time governor of Macedonia. 
 
DUTIES OF A MAGISTRATE. 317 
 
 nothing to do, and the crier had nothing to say ; for every 
 one spoke when he pleased and as long as he pleased. lu 
 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 Rome, 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 weU 
 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*), 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- 
 lition 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 as 
 
 possible ; and by constant report, and the acknowledgment 
 
 * See note. p. 257. 
 
318 CICERO ON THE 
 
 of all, it has become no honour 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; amongst 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 counsels 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 praetors, has been 
 removed from the reputation, the fortunes, and the retire- 
 ment of the rich ; that the funds and taxes 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 service you performed 
 when you freed Asia from the unjust and burdensome tax 
 imposed upon them by the sediles, 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 
 Rome. I stifled these complaints of our people, by a method 
 
DUTIES OF A MAGISTRATE. 319 
 
 which, hjwever 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 pre- 
 sent 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, amongst 
 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 practised, 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.* 
 
 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 
 
 * " The only legitimate object of political institution, is the advantage o 
 individuals. All that cannot 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 confounded the 
 understandings of mankind, the more securely to sink them in debasement 
 and misery. The desire to gain a more extensive territory, to conquer or to 
 hold in awe our neighbouring 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 splendour 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, hj 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,* 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 honours 
 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 honours. 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 cannot bestow too much 
 pains upon their preservation. 
 
 As, therefore, you are invested with the highest command 
 
 * Horace tacitly acknowledges the same obligations to Greek literature 
 " Vos exemplaria Grseca 
 Nocturna versate manu, versate dinma" 
 
 Epist. ad Pisones, v. 268, 2G&. 
 
DUTIES OF A MAUISTKATE. 321 
 
 and powei in those cities where you see your virtues are 
 consecrated and deified, think, in all that you arrange, and 
 decree, and perform, what you owe to such opinions on the 
 part of mankind, to such flattering decisions, and such ex- 
 alted honours. The result of this will he, 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 practise self-control, to subdue all inordinate desires, to 
 regulate your family, to practise 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 
 oeople, they were in the same condition with their own coii- 
 
 y 
 
322 CICERO 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 
 assistance, 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 pu])lic 
 revenue, may be concluded from this, that the Caunians* 
 some time ago, who inhabit the islands that were annexed 
 by Sylla to the division of Rhodes, petitioned the senate tliat 
 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 cannot 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 dissension would ever have been 
 absent from them. And since this government cannot 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 favour a,nd 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 sufi*er us to cherish and continue those intimate con- 
 nexions 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 iu- 
 
 * The Caunians were subjects of the government of Quintus, inhabiting 
 a part of Caria in Asia Minor- 
 
DUTIES OF A MAGISTRATE. 323 
 
 ptructions of any one, but which in a great degree you 
 already have happily executed. For the most honourable 
 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 T 
 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 behaviour is joined to sovereign power, nothing 
 can be more monstrous.* I shall not, however, endeavour to 
 
 * " 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 enemy. By this means it 
 often happens that the choleric inflicts disproportionate punishments upon 
 slight and sometimes imaginary offences, but the temperately revengeful, 
 have leisure to weigh the merits of the cause, 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 becomes 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. Their friends should in return desire them to correct their 
 infirmities. The common excuses that 'hey cannot help it, that it was soon 
 over, that they harbour 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 persons independent 
 upon him should venture into his society who hath not vet so far subdued 
 
 y2 
 
324 CICERO ON THE 
 
 give you. the sentiments of the best instructtd men, coaceru 
 ing the passion of anger, both because 1 am un willing thaf 
 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 ; out 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 w^e become the perpetual subject of conversation 
 amongst mankind, we ought to do and to strive all we can 
 that no conspicuous vice may be said to attach to us.* I do 
 
 his boiling blood, but that he is ready to do something 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 ! Such a man may be feared, 
 he may be pitied, but he cannot be loved." — Dr. Johnson, Rambler, No. 
 129. 
 
 * •' 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 performs it. Thus 
 there would be no virtue in human life, which every one of the species 
 would not have a pretence 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 neceesary 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 endeavours will allow me, whatever is his 
 station iri the world, is to himself possessed of the highest honour. 
 
 " If ambition is not thus turned, it is no other than a continual succession 
 of anxiety and vexation. But when it has this cast, it invigorates 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. Thus the seat of 
 solid honour 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. 
 
 
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 yoa cannot 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 ; because the latter virtue is not 
 solely the proof of self-respect, but sometimes of a lethargic 
 temperament. But vv"hen 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 con- 
 summate wisdom, yet of extraordinary 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 opprobious behaviour, 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, * an excess of 
 weakness ; which, however, as a comparison of evils, is pre- 
 ferable to the cruelty. 
 
 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, 
 
 * " 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 offence. He who does 
 not pause even to weigh the circumstances, cannot be supposed to pause to 
 measure the extent of injury. He feels that he is injured, and all his anger 
 biu^ts 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 magna- 
 nimity as that with which we have forgiven greater injuries." — Dr. Brown's 
 Moral Philosophy, Lect. 63. 
 
326 CICERO ON THE 
 
 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 abifities, care, and concern, in accumu- 
 lating praise from all quarters.* If our situation were one 
 of m.cdiocrity 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 splendour 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 meanwhile, 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 theatre as Asia has been assigned 
 you for the display of your virtues, a theatre 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 
 labour 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 
 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 labouring 
 for a glory that is in expectation and reversion ; but we are 
 
 + '* Make not the consequence of virtue the ends thereof. Be not 
 beneficent for a name or cymbal of applause, nor exact an^ 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 foi, 
 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 Browue's 
 Christian Morals, Book i. chap. 10. 
 
DUTIES OF A MAGISTRATE. 327 
 
 struggling for what lias been attained, a glory tliat 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 labourer in working my way to this 
 splendid reputation, you ought to labour beyond others that 
 1 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 meanwhile I 
 am of opinion, that as you must be now as well acquainted 
 with Asia as any man is with his own house ;* and as so 
 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 
 
 * This would seem to have been a proverbial simile. Juvenal has the 
 same : — 
 
 " Nota magis nuUi domus est sua, quam mihi lucus 
 Martis," iScc, Sat. I v, 7. 
 
328 DUTIES OF A MAGISTRATE. 
 
 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 skilful 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 1, 
 whom individually you have endeavoured 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, 1 entreat you, as 
 vou value my welfare, and that of all your friends, that you 
 will most carefdlly atteud to your health. 
 
INDEX. 
 
 A.c^DEMics little differing from the 
 Peripatetics, 2, 6, 8 ; have a right 
 to treat about duties, 2 ; how dif- 
 fering from the Sceptics, and why 
 they dispute against everything, 
 79 ; are not tied to a set of opi- 
 nions, 120; formerly the same ^vith 
 the Peripatetics, 121. 
 
 Accusing, how far allowable 96. 
 
 Acilius, the historian, 166. 
 
 Acknowledgment, a sufficient return 
 for a kindness, 106. 
 
 Acropolis, its entrance, 102. 
 
 Action gives a true value to v.ttue, 
 13 ; to take place of specula 1on, 
 13, 74, 76; not to be ventured on, 
 f we doubt of its honesty, 18 ; 
 should be free from rashness, &c., 
 52 ; three rules to be observed for 
 keeping decorum in our actions, 
 68; order and regularity to be ob- 
 served 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 humours, 57 ; respect mo- 
 desty, 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 pro- 
 sperity, 47; of experienced men, 
 in doulit, 70 ; rules about taking 
 this advice, 72. 
 
 Advocates m.ay plead for what is not 
 really true, 97. 
 
 iEdiles, Avho, and their magnificence, 
 100. 
 
 Affability wins people's love, 95, 
 
 Affectation odious, 64. 
 
 Aixicanus, his saving that men grown 
 proud, &,c., 47; his retirement and 
 saying that he was never less idle. 
 
 &c., 115; Afric, the younger razeg 
 Carthage and Numantia, 39; son 
 of Paulus, 60; not to be corrupted 
 by money, 109. 
 
 Agamemnon sacrificed his daughter, 
 156 
 
 Agreement between the several orders 
 the support of a state, 151. 
 
 Agriculture commended, 73; its va- 
 rious pleasures described, 240, &c. 
 
 Ajax, his character, 57. 
 
 Alexander Pheraeus 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 injustice, 
 16, 34; is generally in men of the 
 greatest souls, i6J(^.,- 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 avoid- 
 ed, 46; especially in punishing, 
 ibid. ; also in common discourse, 
 in chiding, and in quarrels, 66, 319 
 
 Annicerian philosophers, 166. 
 
 Antipater the Stoic, 112, 135. 
 
 Antonius Marcus, the subject of 
 Paradox V., 277; subservient to 
 Cleopatra, 280. 
 
 Antoninus quoted, 13. 
 
 Appelles's Venus, 117. 
 
 Applause, the desire of it to be avoid- 
 ed, 34, 36. 
 
 Aquillius's Formulae, 138. 
 
 Arates the Sicyonian, 1 10. 
 
 Archytas, saying of, 206, 235. 
 
 Aristippus, 71, 166. 
 
 Aristo, 6. 
 
 Aristotle, neglected eloquence, 2; his 
 opinion about shows to the people, 
 &c., 100; makes honesty far out- 
 weigh all other goods, 128; quoted. 
 
 Armies of little use abroad, without 
 
 prudence at home, &c., 39. 
 Assent not to be given hastily, 12. 
 
330 
 
 INDFX 
 
 Athens, a famous university, 1, 116. 
 
 Athenians make a cruel edict, 132; 
 forsake their city for fear of the 
 Persians, ibid.; reject a dishonest 
 proposal, &c., 134. 
 
 Atilius, L., 171. 
 
 Avarice, one great cause of injustice, 
 15, 16; 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, 2a0, 282, 289, 
 296. 
 
 Bardylis the Illyrian, 91. 
 
 Bargains should be made at a word, 
 l;39. 
 
 Beauty of two sorts, 63; how to be 
 gotten, ibid. 
 
 Becoming ; see Decency. 
 
 Benefits ; how we should judge of 
 their value, 27; done either by our 
 money or industy, 98 ; relate either 
 to the republic, or to individuals, 
 104,&c.; upon whom best bestow- 
 ed, 105, 106. 
 
 Beiithara, Jeremy, quoted, 5. 
 
 Bias of Priene, saying of, 265. 
 
 Body should be inured to labour, 40. 
 The care nature has taken in its 
 fabric, 62, 
 
 Bounty ; see Liberality. 
 
 Bovs not allowed all sorts of plavs, 
 53. 
 
 Bragging very unbecoming, 67. 
 
 Bribery in magistrates the ruin of a 
 republic, 108, 109; laws made 
 agaistit 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, &c., 28. 
 
 Brutus deposed Collatinus, 131; de- 
 crees 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^iSAR, brother of Caiulus, a facetiouo 
 
 man, 65. 
 Cffisar broke through the most sacred 
 ties for the sake of empire, 16 ; 
 robbed some that he might be ge- 
 nerous to others, 26; was murdered 
 for his tyranny, 85; triumphs over 
 Marseilles, &ic., 87; loved villainy, 
 though he got nothing by it, 112; 
 makes himself king of the Romans, 
 &c., 150. 
 Callicratidas, too careful of his own 
 honour, 43; a lover of simplicitv, 
 55. 
 Calling; see Life. 
 
 Callipho and Dinomachus join plea- 
 sure and %irtue, 167. 
 KaSrrjKov, 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 Popilius, 
 22 ; caused the third Carthaginian 
 war, 40; his apophthegms, 53; his 
 answer about managing an estate, 
 113. 
 Cato, father to Uticensis, his deter- 
 mination of a case, 140. 
 Cato Uticensis's genius, 56; too head- 
 strong in standing up for the in- 
 terest of the republic, 152. 
 Kar6p(p(jjfia, what, 7. 
 Catulus not inferior to Pompey, 39 ; 
 Catuli counted the best speaker, 
 65. 
 Chiding sometimes necessary, 66 ; 
 
 rules to be observed in it, 67. 
 Children naturally loved, 10. 
 Chrysippus's excellent saying, 131. 
 Cicero's service to his countrymen by 
 writing, 1 ; assumes to himself the 
 %drtues of an orator, &c. ibid.; his 
 prudent management of the re- 
 public, 112; got his preferments 
 by all the votes, 102 : betakes him- 
 self to retirement, 115; designed 
 to have gone toAthens,168;quoted 
 3, 254, 307, 308. 
 
I^^5EX. 
 
 331 
 
 Cimbers and Celtibers, 23. 
 
 Cimon of Athens's hospitality, 104. 
 
 Circumstances of men to be regarded 
 in giving, 15, 103; make that not 
 to be A crime, which usually is 
 one, 120. 
 
 Cities, in taking them, nothing to be 
 done cruelly, &c., 43; the great 
 use of them, 81 ; vrhx at first built, 
 107, 109. 
 
 Citizens' duties, 62. 
 
 Clarendon, Lord, quoted, 214. 
 
 Claudius Centumalus, 14C. 
 
 Clemency, how far laudable, 45. 
 
 Cieombrotus beaten by Epaminondas, 
 43. 
 
 Ciodius proved to be a madman, 
 275. 
 
 Clothes, only health to be regarded 
 in them, 54; moderation to be ob- 
 served 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 difiering from not to 
 tell, 135; what it is, lo6. 
 
 Concord, a pillar of any state, 109, 
 
 Confidence ; see Trust. 
 
 Constaniia, what it is, 35. 
 
 Corinth razed bv the Romans, 21, 
 133. 
 
 Coriolanus, 186. 
 
 Correction; see Cbiding, Puriishment. 
 
 Coruncanius, T., 187. 
 
 Covetousness; see Avarice. 
 
 Countenance to be kept always the 
 same, without dejection, 47. 
 
 Counterfeit ; nothing can be lasting 
 that is such, 92. 
 
 Country claims a share in us, 15; the 
 
 - love we have for it'swaUows up all 
 other loves, 32; their wickedness 
 who injure it, ibid. ; 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 treachery, 
 &c., ibid.; to desire of applause, 
 35; consists in two things, ibid.; 
 is obtained by the mind, not the 
 body, 40 ; in war, recommends 
 young men, 93; teaches us to fear 
 nothing, &c., 158; nothing profit- 
 able that is contrary to it, ibid. 
 
 Craft; see Cunning. 
 
 Crassus, Marc, his saying about 
 riches, 15 ; made heir by a false 
 
 ^ will, 144; a bad man, 145. 
 
 Crassus, Luc, an orator, 65 ; got 
 honour by an accusation, 94. 
 
 Crassus the wealthy, jedile, 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, ibid. : doth not excuse from per- 
 jury, 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 argne against modesty, 63; to 
 be wholly rejected, 72. 
 
 Cyrenaic philosophers, 166. 
 
 Cyrus, anecdote of, 244; dying ad- 
 dress of, 257. 
 
 Da>"CIKG in the streets scandalous, 
 145, 156. 
 
 Danger how far to be undertaken, 
 43; we should endanger ourselves 
 rather than the pubhc, ibid. 
 
 Death not terrible to the great and 
 good, 271. 
 
 Debts forgiven, &c. 109, 110; gover- 
 nors should hinder people from 
 running into debt, 1 12. 
 
 Deceit firees 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, ibid. ; two sorts of it, 
 imiversal and particular, 49 ; draws 
 the approbation of all, 50; relates 
 both to body and mind, ibid. ; no- 
 
332 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 thing decent that is contrary to a 
 man's genius, 51 ; decency of living 
 according to universal nature, 50, 
 52 ; according to each man's par- 
 ticular one, .5.5; according to one's 
 place or station in the world, 58; 
 is seen in our words, actions, &c., 
 62; in our eyes, hands, &c. 63. 
 Decorum of the poets, 49. 
 Defending more laudable than to ac- 
 cuse, 9<i; to defend a guilty person 
 lawful, 97, 
 Define; the subject of a discourse 
 ought to be defined at the begin- 
 ning, 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 Macedo- 
 nians, 86. 
 Demosthenes, a hearer of Plato, 2; 
 at what age he began his study, 94. 
 Desire of riches, ttc. ; see Avarice, 
 
 Ambition. 
 Despising different from having a 
 
 bad opinion of, 91. 
 Dicsearchus's book about the De- 
 struction of Men, 82. 
 DiflScult suijjects; see Study. Dif- 
 ficulty makes a thing more honour- 
 able, 34. 
 Diogenes and Antipater dispute, 1-34. 
 Dion taught by Plato, 75. 
 Dionysius, the Sicilian tyrant, 85. 
 Direct a wandering traveller, 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 discourse 
 should be easy, &c. ibid.; free 
 from passion, &c. 67; should be 
 agreeaole to the subject we dis- 
 course 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 ho- 
 nest or not, 18: in cases of doubt 
 ask experienced men's advice, 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,iljid., 119, 120; 
 incumbent on us in every part of 
 our lives, 3 ; greater ones to take 
 place before less, 18 ; duty to pa- 
 rents adorns a young man, 94. 
 
 Dymond, Jonathan, quoted, 24, 44, 
 56, 93, 97, 128, 154, 179. 
 
 Earth, the, its dimiuutiveness in the 
 universe, 292 ; too wide to be per- 
 vaded by fame, 296. 
 
 Edmonds, C. R., quoted, 226. 
 
 Education of youth a laudable em- 
 ployment, 73; makes many use- 
 ful men, &c,, 75. 
 
 Edwards, Jonathan, quoted, 4. 
 
 Effeminacy to be avoided, 143 ; see 
 Niceness. Its signification, 54. 
 
 Eloquence preferable to acute think- 
 ing, 75 ; its great force, &c., 80 ; 
 its downfall in Rome, ''^5; gives 
 one opportunities of obliging ma- 
 ny, 106. 
 
 Empedocles, 182. 
 
 Enemies, by the old Romans called 
 strangers, 22 ; justice to be kept 
 towards them, 20, 23, 160; dif- 
 ference of carriage to be observed 
 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 plea- 
 sure, 167; endeavours to explain 
 this away but in vain, ibid. 
 
 Estate, how to be gotten, bettered, 
 &c. 43, 112, 113 ; it is a scandal 
 to ruin it by neglect, ] 03 ; what 
 the best that can be left to a son, 
 60. 
 
 Evenness of temper, a part of ecu 
 rage, 47. 
 
INDEX. 
 
 333 
 
 Evils: the least to be chosen, 115, 
 ]58, 160; those of body and for- 
 tune less than those of the soul, 
 122. 
 
 Euripides, quoted 149, 163. 
 
 'Evra^ia, what it signifies, 68. 
 
 Exacting to be avoided in dealings 
 with others, 103. 
 
 Exercise requisite to make men per- 
 fect, 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 Ju- 
 piter, 1 60 ; to be kept with ene- 
 mies, 161 ; see Oaths. 
 
 Fame, its transiency, 298. 
 
 Fannius, C. and Scaevola and C. Lse- 
 lius, interlocutor in the dialogue 
 on Friendship, 171, &c. 
 
 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, 1 5 ; 
 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 ; ea: 
 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 in- 
 juring men, the latter more odious, 
 32 ; a courageous man cannot be 
 forced, 165. 
 
 Forms in judgment, 138; the ge- 
 neral 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 votai-ies, 193; every 
 man master of his own, 279; se- 
 ditions 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, 
 &c. to be avoided, 46. 
 
 Friends necessary for all, 88 ; all com- 
 mon among friends, 28; the coun- 
 sel of friends should be asked, 47; 
 men are born for their friends, aa 
 well as themselves, ib. ; corrections, 
 counsel, &:c. due among friends, 
 32; how much may be done for 
 
 '- the sake of a friend, 1 32 ; Damon 
 and Pinthias two friends, ibid. ; 
 closeness of union between friends, 
 31. 
 
 Friendship makes many become one, 
 31 ; is cemented by likeness oi 
 manners, ibid. ; to be broken off 
 by little and little, 60; of C. Lffi- 
 lius and P. Scipio, 170, 214; su- 
 perior to relationship, 180; exist* 
 between but ^e\\, ibid. ; a union of 
 sentiment, 180; adorns prosperity, 
 and solaces adversity, 181 ; of 
 Orestes and Pv lades, 182; founded 
 on virtue, 184, 185, 204; and sin- 
 cerity, 197; subverted by avarice 
 and ambition, 186; does not ex- 
 cuse injustice, 188, 189; the great- 
 est of blessings, 190; this univer- 
 sally admitted, 204 ; care to be 
 employed in contracting it, 195; 
 old friendships better than new, 
 198; description of, 201; ruined 
 by flattery, 208. 
 
 Gait should not be too slow, &c. 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 1 Cicero wrote two books about 
 
334 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 it, 88; must be used with discre- 
 tion, and what the shortest cut to 
 it, 92, 94 ; not to be gotten by- 
 counterfeit, 92 ; but by justice, 93 ; 
 cannot be durable unless founded 
 upon virtue, 107; inconsistent with 
 wickedness, 151. 
 
 Gods ; duties to them to be performed 
 first, 76; how their favour may be 
 procured, 80 ; they never hurt, 
 ibid.; are never angry, 160. 
 
 Godwin, William, quoted 24, 120, 
 126, 153,160,292, 813. 
 
 Good fortune; it is a 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, ibid. ; it is always profit- 
 able to be one, ibid. ; good men 
 desire honesty, not secrecy, 130. 
 
 Good-will ; see Love. 
 
 Government of a state like the office 
 of a guardian, 44 ; the several 
 duties of those that govern, 108. 
 
 Gownsmen as useful as soldiers, 3S, 
 40. 
 
 Gracchus, father of the two Gracchi, 
 93 ; his sons justly slain, ibid. ; 
 ruined by their levelling princi- 
 ples, 110 ; Tiberius, 187, 188. 
 
 Gratidianus, 141, 
 
 Gratitude a most necessary duty, in 
 which we should imitate fruitful 
 fields, 27 ; all people hate one that 
 is not grateful, 103. 
 
 Greatness of soul natural to man, 11; 
 what it appears in, 10 ; inclines 
 men to a mbition, 34 ; is often too 
 hot, 27 ; usually made most ac- 
 count of in the world, 33 ; neces- 
 sary 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 accompanied with justice, 
 75 ; see Courage. 
 
 Greek and Latin to be joined, 1 ; to 
 bring Greek into discourse ridicu- 
 lous, 56 ; Greeks deceitful and 
 treacherous, 311. 
 
 Grotius, quoted, 14, 22, 
 
 Guardian, the, quoted, 124. 
 Guthrie, Wm,, 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. 
 
 Health, how to be preserved, 112. 
 
 Heaven ; a certain place in it assigned 
 to patriots, 290 ; magnitude 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 two 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. 
 
 Hones turn, whence it results, 11, 
 laudable in itself, ibid. ; would 
 make the world in love with it, 
 could it be seen, ibid. ; shows 
 itself 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, «Scc.; honest 
 man, who, 146. 
 
 Honour ; the desire of it tempts men 
 to injustice, 147. 
 
 Horace, quoted, 7, 123, 238, 266, 
 316. 
 
 Hortensius, aedile, 101 ; uses a felse 
 will, 144. 
 
 Hospilality to be kept by great men. 
 
i>n)Ex. 
 
 335 
 
 68 ; praised deservedly by Tlieo- 
 
 phrastus, 104. 
 Hostis, its signification among the 
 
 old Romans, 22. 
 Hot comisels and designs preferred 
 
 by some, 42. 
 House ; of what sort becomes a 
 
 great man, 68 ; the master should 
 
 be an honour to his house, ibid. 
 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. 
 
 Jesti>g, 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 
 \'irtuous and the just, 176, 302 ; if 
 the doctrine is false, death is 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 ; glorious 
 hopes connected with it, 261 ; 
 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 in- 
 terests separate from the public, 
 124. 
 
 Inheritance ; the best a father can 
 ieave to his son, is 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 one way, and honesty 
 another, 8 ; no base thing can be 
 any man's interest, 146 ; shoula 
 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, 1 3 ; 
 makes men be called good, ibid., 
 91; the duties of it, 13; is altered 
 upon an alteration of the circum- 
 stances, 18; to be kept toward 
 those that have injured us, and 
 enemies, 21; toward the meanest, 
 such as slaves, 25 ; is the only way 
 of obtaining our ends, 80; makes 
 men trust us more than prudence, 
 89 ; no man just, who is afraid of 
 death, &c. 91; justice gets us all 
 the three ingredients of glory, 
 ibid.,' is necessary for all men, 
 even pirates, ibid.; 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 profitable that is 
 contrary to it, 152, &c. 
 
 Juvenal quoted, 210, 220, 279, 311, 
 324. 
 
 Kindnesses should be done to honest 
 rather than great men, 106; not to 
 be done to one, by injuring an- 
 other, ibid.; see Benefits. 
 
 Kings formerly chosen for their jus- 
 tice, 92; no faith in case of a 
 kingdom, 16; justice violated for a 
 kingdom, 150; many treacherous, 
 and but few faithful to kings, ibid. 
 
 Knowledge, how desired, &c. by men, 
 10, 12; must give place to action, 
 74; is a barren accomplishment, 
 without justice, 75 : that of honesty, 
 best, 78, 80, 118. 
 
 Knavery to be avoided, 80; few ac- 
 tions wholly free from it, 139. 
 See Dolus mains. 
 
336 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Lackd^monians, Plato's observation 
 of them, 33; ruined by Epami- 
 nondas, 43 ; forsaken by their allies, 
 ^6; murder their king Agis, &c. 
 110. 
 
 Laglius, C, chief speaker in the 
 dialogue on Friendship, 172, &c. 
 
 Lsetorius'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 jus- 
 tice, 46 ; why first invented, 92 ; 
 use the same language to all con- 
 ditions, ibid, ; the IcnGwledge of 
 them creditable at Rome, 104; 
 give a man opportunities of oblig- 
 ing, ibid.; the end and design of 
 them, 122; how they root out 
 frauds, 142; the law of nations 
 different from that of particular 
 cities, ibid. ; Roman law taken 
 from nature, and its excellence, 
 ibid.; law of nature takes in all 
 men, 124; law-suits to be 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 labour, 
 116. 
 
 Letters, how to be expressed, 65. 
 
 Levelling estates destructive, &c. 1 07. 
 
 Liberality, three cautions to be ob- 
 served in it, 25 ; must be governed 
 by justice, ibid.; to give to one 
 what is taken from another not 
 liberality, ibid.; 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 labour; the latter 
 preferable, 15 ; has got no bottom 
 ibid.; how the liberal dispose of 
 their money, 16. 
 
 Liberty ought to be most of all con- 
 tended for, 35; wherein it consists, 
 ibid.; bites deeper after it has 
 bean chained, 85. 
 
 Life of retirement, and that of public 
 business compared, 37; several 
 men take several ways of life, 58; 
 the difficulty of choosing a way of 
 life; and what chiefly to be re- 
 garded in it, 58, bQ; should not 
 easily be changed, 60; how such 
 change should be made, ibid. 
 
 Little indecencies especially to be 
 avoided, 70; in the least things we 
 observe what is becoming, ibid. 
 
 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, ibid.; general love, 
 and that of friendship, how far 
 necessary, 86. 
 
 Lucullus magnificent'Cn building, 68. 
 
 Lycurgus the lawgiver of Sparta, 39. 
 
 Lying abominable, 72, 137; should 
 be banished from all commercp. 
 138; is inconsistent with the cha- 
 racter of a good man, 148. 
 
 Ly Sander enlarged the Spartan em- 
 pire, 38; crafty, 55; the Ephori 
 banished, 110. 
 
 Lysis, master of Epaminondas, 75 
 
 Macedonians desert Demetrius, 86 ; 
 Paul us took the treasure of Mace- 
 don, 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 practice 
 rigour and impartiality, 313; ard 
 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, ibid.; we 
 should shew a respect for all men, 
 50; and desire to be thought well 
 
 I 
 
INDEX. 
 
 337 
 
 of by them, ibid.; some are men 
 in name only, 53; men may be 
 allowed some ornaments; but must 
 avoid niceness, 63; naturally love 
 society, 74, 75; do the most good 
 and harm to one another, 80 — 
 82; to procure their love the chief 
 of virtue, 82; by what means they 
 are drawn to be for us, 84; every 
 man should help any other because 
 he is a man, 124. 
 
 Manilius, 176, 286. 
 
 Manlius, Luc. and Titus, 164, 165. 
 
 Marius made consul, &c., 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, &c. 109. 
 
 Merchandize, 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 honour, 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, &c., 48 ; the 
 duties of them different from those 
 of justice, 50; forbids to do or 
 name some things, 63; the Cynics 
 argue against it, ibid.; nothing 
 virtuous or becoming without it, 
 72; sets off eloquence, especially 
 in young men, 95. 
 
 Money; see Hire, Riches, &c.; those 
 tried with fire, who have withstood 
 its temptations, 91 ; how beat laid 
 
 out, 100, 102, 103; bad money 
 
 should not be put away, 154. 
 Montaigne, quoted, 162. 
 Moral duties, a most usefiil and 
 
 comprehensive subject, 2, 116; 
 
 who have a right to discourse about 
 
 them, 2. 
 Motion, philosophy of, 300, &c. 
 Motives drawing men to favour us, 
 
 &c. 83. 
 Musicians discover the least faults in 
 
 music, 70. 
 
 Nasica murdered T. Gracchus, 39. 
 
 Nature should be taken for a guide, 
 and then we cannot err, 49, 218; 
 pleasures, &c. unworthy man's 
 nature, 53; variety of men's par- 
 ticular natures, 54; every oae 
 should follow his own nature, and 
 how far, 55 ; nothing becoming 
 that is contrary to it, ibid. ; its 
 great influence on our actions, ibid.; 
 has greater sway than fortune, 60; 
 directs to modesty, 62 ; is both a 
 human and divine law, 122 ; en- 
 joina each man to help another, 
 124 ; always desires what is be- 
 coming, 128; to live according to 
 nature the Stoical chief good, 11 8» 
 
 Nature, the best guide, 179 ; the 
 mother of all things, 267. 
 
 Necessity not the motive to society 
 among men, 75. 
 
 Niceness in carriage, 62; dress, &c. 
 63. 
 
 Nola and Naples quarrel about their 
 bounds, 19. 
 
 Non putaram, a fool's shift, 41. 
 
 Numa Pompilius, 26 S. 
 
 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 religious af- 
 firmation, &c, ibid.; the sacred. 
 ness of them among the old Ro- 
 mans, 164; not eluded by shifts; 
 24, 165. 
 
 Obscene jesting, 53; talking discovero 
 bad inclinations, &c, 63. 
 
 Obscure subjects to be n.eglected, IS- 
 
338 
 
 l^DEX. 
 
 Offence; a fear of giving offence, 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 offence, 51 ; 
 nothing to be done that may offend 
 the eyes and ears, 63. 
 
 Old age to be reverenced, 60, 72; 
 the duties of it, 6 1 ; the, of Cicero 
 beguiled by writing a treatise on 
 that subject, 217; tolerable to 
 men of regulated minds, 219; of 
 Q,uintus Maximus, 221 ; of Pla- 
 to, Isocrates, and Gorgias, 222; of 
 Ennius, 223; four causes why it 
 is thought miserable, 223; has its 
 appropriate employments, 224; 
 does not necessarily impair memo- 
 ry, 225, nor intellect, 226, nor 
 studies, 227 ; does not require the 
 strength of youth, 228, 232; mel- 
 lows the voice, 229 ; its vigour pre- 
 served by temperamce, 232; can 
 enjoy moderate 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 j oined, 1 . 
 
 Order in our words and actions, 69. 
 
 Orestes gives a dinner to the people, 
 101. 
 
 Opfiai, 82. 
 
 Other men's affairs appear small to 
 us as things at a distance, 17 ; we 
 should mind by others what is be- 
 coming, 70; we can soonest see 
 faults in others, ibid. 
 
 Ovid quoted, 50, 225, 265. 
 
 Own: every one to be kept in the en- 
 joyment of his own, 109; own in- 
 terest how far to be regarded, 122, 
 131. 
 
 UdSrr], 82. 
 
 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. 
 Paley, Dr. quoted, 5, 14, 19, 24, 32, 
 
 46 71, 95, 97, 271. 
 
 Panaetius, 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 reason, 52, 
 64, 68, 82; disturb both body and 
 and niind, 52; to be shunned 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 ^milius appears in vision to 
 his son Scipio Africanus the 
 younger, 291. 
 
 Pericles's answer to Sophocles, 69; 
 is blamed by Phalerius, 102. 
 
 People caressed, &c. 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; re- 
 bukes 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, ibid.; their method of root- 
 ing out frauds, 141; none may as- 
 sume that name without giving 
 rules about duty, 2; their study 
 commended, 78; philosophy a 
 comfort in affliction, 77; a rich 
 and plentiful soil, 116; the meazi^ 
 ing of the word, 78. 
 
 Phulus. 176. 
 
•INDEX. 
 
 339 
 
 Pirates ought to have no faith kept 
 with them, 162; cannot be without 
 justice, 91. 
 
 Place, its influence on our actions, 69. 
 
 Plato might have made an excellent 
 orator, 2; his saying, that men are 
 not bom for themselves only, 14; 
 his mistake about the philosophers, 
 17; his two rules about govern- 
 ment, 44; his saying about ambi- 
 tion, ibid. ; his excellent saying 
 about prudence, 33; his fable of 
 Gyges, 130; quoted, 11, 51 ; his 
 argument for the pre-existence of 
 the human soul, 256, 
 
 Plays and recreations, how far allow- 
 able, 53; play at even and odd, 
 &c., 147. 
 
 Pla5^ers choose the parts fittest for 
 them, 57; their respect to modes- 
 ty, 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, 
 ibid. ; should not be regarded in 
 in eating, &c., 54; consist in vir- 
 tue, 268. 
 
 Plutarch, quoted, 108. 
 
 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 unsuc- 
 cessful, 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. 
 
 Practice necessary to perfect a man 
 in virtue, 33. 
 
 Precepts insufficient without exercise, 
 ibid. 
 
 Present things more acceptable for 
 a time, 102. 
 
 Pride in prosperity to be avoided, 47. 
 
 Pnvate 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, ibid.; every- 
 thing honest profitable, and every- 
 thing profitable honest, 128. 
 
 Promises not al way binding, 18, 155, 
 156. 
 
 Property, its original, 14. 
 
 Prudence; the duties resulting from, 
 12; consists in the knowledge of 
 truth, and is most natural to man, 
 ibid.; of but little worth without 
 justice, 74 ; difi^erent from craft, 
 33, 80, 143 ; a definition of it, 
 74 ; makes men confide in us, if 
 joined, &c., 89. 
 
 Public officers should be free from 
 passion, &c., 36, 45, 319; should 
 see that what that they undertake 
 be honest, 44; remember Plato's 
 two rules, ibid. ; a description of a 
 good one 44,313; should be cour- 
 teous, aifable, &c., ibid.; do the 
 bravest actions, 47; should guard 
 their eyes as veil 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 oflfers 
 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 actions, 
 
 52. 
 Reason ought to be the governing 
 
 faculty in man, 52 
 
340 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Rebukes in friendship, 32. See 
 Chiding. 
 
 Regularity; see Uniformity. 
 
 Regulus taken by the Carthaginans, 
 &c., 158, 252, &c.; not really un- 
 happy, 269. 
 
 Relations should be considered before 
 other people, 25, 27. 
 
 Republic ; Cicero wrote six books 
 about it, 102. 
 
 Respect should be had for all men, 
 51; especially those we converse 
 with, 63, 64, 67. 
 
 Retired people do very noble things, 
 47; see 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 accompanied 
 with infamy, 151; the baggage of 
 virtue, 265; of no value in them- 
 selves, 286; a comparative term, 
 284; see Avarice, Liberality. 
 
 Romans famous for courage, 33 ; 
 their ancient justice and kindness 
 to allies when changed, 86; ruined 
 by tyranny and oppression, 87. 
 
 Romulus did wrong in killing Remus, 
 131 ; praised, 266; the sun eclipsed 
 at his death, 297. 
 
 RosciusAmerinus defended by Cicero, 
 98. 
 
 Rousseau, J. J., quoted, 1 22. 
 
 Rule; the desire of it natural to men, 
 10; general rule or measure, 123. 
 
 Rutilius had the name of an honest 
 man, &c., 94 ; scholar of Pansetius, 
 117. 
 
 SALA.MIS famous for a victory, 33. 
 Saguntines, not parricides, 274. 
 Salmacis, 33. 
 Soeevola gives more than was asked 
 
 for an estate, 139; Pontifex Max., 
 
 142,169,176. 
 Sceptics* their opinion, 79. 
 
 Scipio, Africanus, his history and 
 glorious end, 173, 174. 
 
 Secrecy, nothing to be committed out 
 of hopes of it, 129, 130. 
 
 Self-love keeps 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, &c.; should 
 use no arts to enhance their price, 
 139. 
 
 Seneca quoted, 50, 218, 251. 
 
 Serious things to be handled seri- 
 ously, 65, 69. 
 
 Shakspeare, Wm., quoted, 210,279, 
 294, 309. 
 
 Shows to the people, how far allow- 
 able, 100, 102. 
 
 Sincerity agreeable to man's nature, 
 10. 
 
 Singing openly a great rudeness, 69. 
 
 Slaves, how to be dealt with, 25, 86 ; 
 tricks in selling them punished, 
 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 concerned for, 
 74; man by nature sociable, 75; 
 necessity not the motive to society, 
 ibid.; duties of it of several de- 
 grees, in what order to be perform- 
 ed, 74 ; universal 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 profit and 
 honesty, 118; pronounced by the 
 oracle the wisest of men, 172, 173, 
 255; remark of, 244. 
 
 Solon, Athenian lawgiver, 38 ; hia 
 craft, 54. 
 
 Sons should live as becomes the name 
 of their ancestors, 39 ; do not bathe 
 with their fathers, 63. 
 
 2odita, 74. 
 
 Sophocles the tragedian, 69, 238 
 
INDEX. 
 
 341 
 
 Soul's functions more noble than the 
 body's, 94; pre-existed, 256 ; an 
 emanation of the divine essence, 
 255; immortal, (see immortality) 
 nothing more excellent and divine, 
 268,300; souls of the wicked hover 
 round the earth for ages after death, 
 303. 
 
 iouth, Dr., quoted, 61, 267, 268, 270, 
 271,280. 
 
 Spectator, the, quoted, 220, 229, 230, 
 241, 260. 
 
 Speech; see Discourse, 
 
 Spheres, the description of, 293; mu- 
 sic 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 deriva- 
 tions, 15 ; their chief good, &c , 
 118; aimat no embellishment, 26 3. 
 
 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, ibid.; should give place to 
 action, 13, 74, 76. 
 
 Suicide forbidden, 250, 292. 
 
 Subject of a discourse must be first 
 explained, 7; different subjects re- 
 quire different ways of expression, 
 90. 
 
 Subjects of common discourse, 65. 
 
 Sulpitius, an astronomer, 13, 169; an 
 orator, accuses Norbanus, 95. 
 
 Summum jus, summa injuria, 19. 
 
 Swearing upon one's conscience, 146; 
 my tongue swore, but, &c., 163. 
 
 Sylla, Lucius's, inhuman victory, 87. 
 
 Sylla, Pub., kinsman to the former. 
 ' bid. 
 
 Taking away what is another s, a 
 breach of justice, 14; most con- 
 trary to nature, 122, 124; taking 
 away from one and gi\ing to an- 
 other no liberality, 25; no good 
 
 man m\\ take from another to en- 
 rich himself, 145. 
 
 Talk ; see Discourse. 
 
 Tatler, the, quoted, 320. 
 
 Taylor, Isaac, quoted, 295, 301 . 
 
 Taxes, the people not to be burden- 
 ed with them, 108; tax-gatherers 
 hated, 72, 317. 
 
 Ten men sent by Hamiibal to Rome, 
 &c., 24, 165. 
 
 Temperance, 12; the duties of it 
 must not always give place to 
 those of justice, 76; nothing pro- 
 fitable that is contrary to it, 167. 
 
 Tenths paid to the gods, 101 
 
 Terence's Chremes, 17; Andria, 207; 
 Eunuch, 209. 
 
 Thebe, wife of tyrant Alexander, 86. 
 
 Themistocles, 38; his opinion about 
 marrying a daughter, 106; his pro- 
 posal to the Athenians, 133; iUus- 
 tratrions, 189; sayings of, 220. 
 
 Theophrastus, 2 ; his book about 
 riches, 100; praises hospitality, 
 104. 
 
 Theseus's wish granted by Neptune, 
 18, 156. 
 
 Thieves cannot submit without jus- 
 tice, 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, Q9. 
 
 Trades, which creditable, &c., 72; 
 tradesmen should avoid lying, ibid.; 
 be just, 91. 
 
 Treachery, &c. contrary to reason, 
 142. 
 
 Truce for thirty days, 19. 
 
 Trust : how men are induced to ♦■rust 
 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; 
 
 I lead nuserable lives, 149. 
 
342 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Victuals ; pleasure should not be 
 regarded in it, 54. 
 
 Vine, cultivation of, 241. 
 
 Viriathus, the Lusitanian robber, 1 1 . 
 
 Virgil quoted, 11,270,290. 
 
 Virtue alone, or at least chiefly de- 
 sirable, 5,12; virtues all connected, 
 12, 89; forces us to love the per- 
 sons that possess it, 31, 89; its 
 principal office to procure the love 
 of men, 82; consists in three things, 
 ibid.; moves men's admiration, 89; 
 when it appearswith greatest splen- 
 dour, ibid.; scorns affinity with 
 pleasure, 167; the only good, 264; 
 conformable to reason, 273; all 
 virtues equal, ibid.; see Honesty. 
 
 Ulysses of a temper to undergo any 
 thhig, 57; would have avoided the 
 war, 157. 
 
 Unable ; those who are unable to ex- 
 ercise 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, ibid. 
 
 Unjust; those who spend their lives 
 in contemplation are so, 17; and 
 those who mind nobody's business 
 but their own, ibid. 
 
 Voice should be clear and harmo- 
 nious, &c. 65. 
 
 Voluntary : no true virtue, that is 
 not so, 17. 
 
 Usurers hated, 72; Catch's opinion of 
 usury, 113. 
 
 Want ; we should be most liberal to 
 
 these that want most,&c. 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 prudence, 38 ; 
 courage in it recommends 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 Basihus, &c. 
 144. 
 
 Wing of horse, 94. 
 
 Wisdom, which the chief, 74; the de- 
 finition and commendation of it, 
 78 ; to be often with wise men re- 
 commends 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 endeavour to be 
 well thought of by all the world, 
 50. 
 
 Xantippus the Lacedaemonian, 158. 
 Xenocrates the severest philosopher, 
 
 55. 
 Xenophon's CEconomics, translated 
 
 by Cicero, 113. 
 
 Young men; the duties of them, 60; 
 how they should make themselves 
 taken notice of in the world, 93; 
 are not envied, but rather encou- 
 raged, ibid. 
 
 Zeno holds virtue to be the only 
 good, 128. 
 
 Hr^ -^ 
 
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 LOKDON: W. CLOWES AND SONS, STAMFORD STREET AND CHAKTNG CROSS 
 
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