CICERO (continued 4)

The work De Republicâ was begun by Cicero in the month of May, in the year 699, when the author was in the fifty-second year of his age, so that, of all his philosophical writings, it was at least the earliest commenced. In a letter to his brother Quintus, he tells him that he had employed himself in his Cuman and Pompeian villas, in writing a large and laborious political work; that, should it succeed to his mind, it would be well, but, if not, he would cast it into that sea which was in view when he wrote it; and, as it was impossible for him to be idle, commence some other undertaking460. He had proceeded, however, but a little way, when he repeatedly changed the whole plan of the work; and it is curious to perceive, that an author of so perfect a genius as Cicero, had similar advices from friends, and the same discouragement, and doubts, and irresolution, which agitate inferior writers.

When he had finished the first and second books, they were read to some of his friends at his Tusculan villa. Sallust, who was one of the company present, advised him to change his plan, and to treat the subject in his own person—alleging that the introduction of those ancient philosophers and statesmen, to whom Cicero had assigned parts in the dialogue, instead of adding gravity, gave a fictitious air to the argument, which would have greater weight if delivered from Cicero himself, as being the work, not of a sophist or contemplative theorist, but of a consular senator and statesman, conversant in the greatest affairs, and writing only what his own experience had taught him to be true. These reasons seemed to Cicero very plausible, and for some time made him think of altering his plan, especially since, by placing the scene of the dialogue so far back, he had precluded himself from touching on those important revolutions in the Republic, which were later than the period to which he had confined himself. But after some deliberation, feeling reluctant to throw away the [pg 266]two books which were already finished, and with which he was much pleased, he resolved to adhere to his original plan461. And as he had preferred it from the first, for the sake of avoiding offence, so he pursued it without any other alteration than that he now limited to six what he had before proposed to extend to nine books. These six were made public previously to his departure for the government of Cilicia. While there, he received the epistolary congratulations of his friends on their success462, and in his answers he discloses all the delight of a gratified and successful author463.

Mai discusses at considerable length the question, To whom the treatise De Republicâ was dedicated. The beginning of the proœmium to the first book, which might have determined this point, is lost; but the author says, “Disputatio repetenda memoriâ est, quæ mihi, tibique quondam adolescentulo, est a P. Rutilio Rufo, Zmyrnæ cùm simul essemus, complures dies exposita.” Cicero was at Smyrna in the twenty-ninth year of his age, and it is evident that his companion, to whom this treatise is dedicated, was younger than himself, as he says, “Mihi, tibique quondam adolescentulo.” Atticus was two years older than Cicero, and therefore could not be the person. In fact, there is every reason to suppose that the treatise De Republicâ was dedicated to its author’s younger brother Quintus, who, as we know from the proœmium of the last book, De Finibus, was with Cicero at Athens during the voyage, in the course of which he touched at Smyrna—who probably attended him to Asia,—and whose age suited the expression “mihi, tibique adolescentulo.” Add to this, that Cicero, when he mentions to his brother, (in the passage of the letter above referred to,) that he meant to alter the plan of his work, says, “Nunc loquar ipse tecum, et tamen illa quæ institueram ad te, si Romam venero, mittam464.” The work in its first concoction, therefore, was addressed to Quintus, and, as the author, after some hesitation, published it nearly in its original form, it can scarcely be doubted that it was still dedicated to his brother.

The first book De Republicâ, which was one of those read by Cicero to Sallust and some other friends, in his Tusculan villa, is, as already mentioned, imperfect at the commencement. Not much, however, seems to be wanting, and a prologue of considerable length still remains, in which the author [pg 267](pleading, perhaps, his own cause) combats the opinions of philosophers, who, preferring a contemplative to an active life, blame those who engage in public affairs. To the former he opposes the example of many wise and great men, and answers those objections to a busy political life, which have been repeatedly urged against it. This prologue contains some good reasoning, and, like all the writings of its illustrious author, displays a noble patriotic feeling. He remarks, that he had entered into this discussion as introductory to a book concerning the republic, since it seemed proper, as prefatory to such a work, to combat the sentiments of those who deny that a philosopher should be a statesman. “As to the work itself,” says he, addressing (as I have supposed) his brother, “I shall lay down nothing new or peculiar to myself, but shall repeat a discussion which once took place among the most illustrious men of their age, and the wisest of our state, such as it was related to myself, and to you when a youth, by P. Rutilius Rufus, when we were with him some days at Smyrna—in which discussion nothing of importance to the right constitution of a commonwealth, appears to have been omitted.”

The author then proceeds to mention, that during the consulship of Tuditanus and Aquilius, (as he had heard from Rufus,) the younger Scipio Africanus determined to pass the Latin festivals (Latinæ Feriæ) in his gardens, where some of his most intimate friends had promised to visit him. The first of these who makes his appearance is his nephew, Quintus Tubero, a person devoted to the Stoical philosophy, and noted for the austerity of his manners. A remark which Tubero makes about two suns, a prodigy which, it seems, had lately appeared in the heavens, leads Scipio to praise Socrates for his abandonment of physical pursuits, as neither very useful to man, nor capable of being thoroughly investigated—a sentiment (by the way) which, with all due submission to the Greek philosopher, does little credit to his sagacity, as physical inquiries have been not only highly useful to mankind, but are almost the only subjects in which accurate science has been attained. Furius, Philus, and Rutilius, who is stated to have related the discussion to Cicero, now enter, and, at last, comes Lælius, attended by his friend, Spurius Mummius, (brother to the well-known connoisseur in the fine arts who took Corinth,) and by his two sons-in-law, C. Fannius and Q. Scævola. After saluting them, Scipio, as it was now winter, takes them to a sunny spot, in a meadow, and in proceeding thither the party is joined by M. Manilius.

“In this choice of his principal speakers, Cicero,” as has been well remarked, “was extremely judicious and happy. It [pg 268]was necessary that the persons selected should have been distinguished both as statesmen and as scholars, in order that a philosophical discussion might appear consistent with their known characters, and that a high political reputation might give authority to their remarks on government. Scipio and Lælius united both these requisites in a remarkable degree. They were among the earliest of the Romans who added the graces of Grecian taste and learning to the manly virtues of their own ruder country. These accomplishments had refined and polished their characters, without at all detracting from their force and purity. The very name of the Scipios, the duo fulmina belli, was the symbol of military talent, patriotism, and magnanimity: Lælius was somewhat less distinguished in active life; but enjoyed, on the other hand, a still higher reputation for contemplative wisdom465.”

After the party had been all seated, the subject of the two suns is resumed; and Lælius, while he remarks that they had enough to occupy attention in matters more at hand, adds, that since they were at present idle, he for his part, had no objection to hear Philus, who was fond of astronomical pursuits, on the subject. Philus, thus encouraged, proceeds to give an account of a kind of Orrery, which had been formed by Archimedes, and having been brought to Rome by Marcellus, its structure, as well as uses, had on one occasion, when Philus was present, been explained by C. Sulpicius Gallus. The application of this explanation to the phenomenon of the two suns is lost, as a hiatus of eight pages here occurs in the palimpsest. Probably, the solution of the problem would not, if extant, make a great figure in the Philosophical Transactions. But one cannot fail to admire the discursive and active genius of Cicero, who considered all knowledge as an object deserving ardent pursuit466.

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At the end of the hiatus, we find Scipio, in reference to Gallus’s astronomical knowledge, which had been celebrated by Philus, relating, that when his father, Paulus Æmilius, commanded in Macedonia, the army being terrified by an eclipse, Gallus had calmed their fears by explaining the phænomenon—an anecdote, which, with another similar to it here told of Pericles, proves the value of physical pursuits, and their intimate connection with the affairs of life. This inference seems to have been drawn in a passage which is lost; and several beautiful sentiments follow, similar to some of those in the Somnium Scipionis, on the calm exquisite delights of meditation and science, and on the littleness of all earthly things, when compared with immortality or the universe. “Quid porro,” says Scipio, in the most elevated tone of moral and intellectual grandeur—“quid porro aut præclarum putet in rebus humanis, qui hæc deorum regna perspexerit? aut diuturnum, qui cognoverit quid sit æternum? aut gloriosum, qui viderit quàm parva sit terra, primum universa, deinde ea pars ejus quam homines incolant, quamque nos in exiguâ ejus parte adfixi, plurimis ignotissimi gentibus, speremus tamen nostrum nomen volitare et vagari latissime? Agros, vero, et ædificia, et pecudes, et immensum argenti pondus atque auri, qui bona nec putare nec appellare soleat, quod earum rerum videatur ei, levis fructus, exiguus usus, incertus dominatus, sæpe etiam teterrimorum hominum immensa possessio. Quàm est hic fortunatus putandus, cui soli vere liceat omnia non Quiritium sed sapientium jure pro suis vindicare! nec civili nexo, sed communi lege naturæ, quæ vetat ullam rem esse cujusquam nisi ejus qui tractare et uti sciat: qui imperia consulatusque [pg 270]nostros in necessariis non in expetendis rebus muneris fungendi gratiâ subeundos, non præmiorum aut gloriæ causâ adpetendos putet: qui denique ut Africanum avum meum scribit Cato solitum esse dicere, possit idem de se prædicare, nunquam se plus agere, quàm nihil cùm ageret; nunquam minus solum esse, quàm cùm solus esset.

“Quis enim putare vere potest plus egisse Dionysium tum cùm omnia moliendo eripuerit civibus suis libertatem, quàm ejus civem Archimedem, cùm istam ipsam Sphæram, nihil cùm agere videretur, effecerit? Quis autem non magis solos esse qui in foro turbâque quicum conloqui libeat non habeant, quam qui nullo arbitro vel secum ipsi loquantur, vel quasi doctissimorum hominum in concilio adsint cùm eorum inventis scriptisque se oblectent? Quis vero divitiorem quemquam putet, quàm eum cui nihil desit, quod quidem natura desideret? aut potentiorem quàm illum, qui omnia quæ expetat, consequatur? aut beatiorem quàm qui sit omni perturbatione animi liberatus?”

Lælius, however, is no way moved by these sonorous arguments; and still persists in affirming, that the most important of all studies are those which relate to the Republic, and that it concerned them to inquire, not why two suns had appeared in heaven, but why, in the present circumstances, (alluding to the projects of the Gracchi,) there were two senates, and almost two peoples. In this state of things, therefore, and since they had now leisure, their fittest object would be to learn from Scipio what he deemed the best condition of a commonwealth. Scipio complies with this request, and begins with defining a republic; “Est igitur respublica res populi—populus autem non omnis hominum cœtus quoquo modo congregatus, sed cœtus multitudinis juris consensu.” In entering on the nature of what he had thus defined, he remounts to the origin of society, which he refers entirely to that social spirit which is one of the principles of our nature, and not to hostility, or fear, or compact. A people, when united, may be governed by one, by several, or by a multitude, any one of which simple forms may be tolerable if well administered, but they are liable to corruptions peculiar to themselves. Of these three simple forms, Scipio prefers the monarchical; and for this choice he gives his reasons, which are somewhat metaphysical and analogical. But though he more approves of a pure regal government than of the two other simple forms, he thinks that none of them are good, and that a perfect constitution must be compounded of the three. “Quod cùm ita sit, tribus primis generibus longe præstat, meâ sententiâ, regium; regio autem ipsi præstabit id quod erit æquatum et tempera[pg 271]tum ex tribus optimis rerum publicarum modis. Placet enim esse quiddam in re publicâ præstans et regale; esse aliud auctoritate principum partum ac tributum; esse quasdam res servatas judicio voluntatique multitudinis. Hæc constitutio primum habet æqualitatem quamdam magnam, quâ carere diutius vix possunt liberi; deinde firmitudinem.”

In this panegyric on a mixed constitution, Cicero has taken his idea of a perfect state from the Roman commonwealth—from its consuls, senate, and popular assemblies. Accordingly, Scipio proceeds to affirm, that of all constitutions which had ever existed, no one, either as to the distribution of its parts or discipline, was so perfect as that which had been established by their ancestors; and that, therefore, he will constantly have his eye on it as a model in all that he means to say concerning the best form of a state.

This explains what was the chief scope of Cicero in his work De Republica—an eulogy on the Roman government, such as it was, or he supposed it to have been, in the early ages of the commonwealth. In the time of Cicero, when Rome was agitated by the plots of Catiline, and factions of Clodius, with the proscriptions of Sylla but just terminated, and the usurpation of Cæsar impending, the Roman constitution had become as ideal as the polity of Plato; and in its best times had never reached the perfection which Cicero attributes to it. But when a writer is disgusted with the present, and fearful for the future, he is ever ready to form an Utopia of the past467.

In the second book, which, like the first, is imperfect at the beginning, (though Mai seems to think that only a few words are wanting;) Scipio records a saying of Cato the Censor, that the constitution of Rome was superior to that of all other states, because they had been modelled by single legislators, as Crete by Minos, and Sparta by Lycurgus, whereas the Roman commonwealth was the result of the gradually improved experience and wisdom of ages. “To borrow, therefore,” says he, “a word from Cato, I shall go back to the origin of the Roman state; and show it in its birth, childhood, youth, and maturity—a plan which seems preferable to the delineation of an imaginary republic like that of Plato.”

Scipio now begins with Romulus, whose birth, indeed, he seems to treat as a fable; but in the whole succeeding development of the Roman history, he, or, in other words, Cicero, exercises little criticism, and indulges in no scepticism. He [pg 272]admires the wisdom with which Romulus chose the site of his capital—not placing it in a maritime situation, where it would have been exposed to many dangers and disadvantages, but on a navigable river, with all the conveniences of the sea.—“Quî potuit igitur divinitus et utilitates complecti maritimas Romulus et vitia vitare? quàm quòd urbem perennis amnis et æquabilis et in mare late influentis posuit in ripâ, quo posset urbs et accipere ex mari quo egeret, et reddere quo redundaret: eodemque ut flumine res ad victum cultumque maxime necessarias non solum mari absorberet sed etiam advectas acciperet ex terrâ: ut mihi jam tum divinâsse ille videatur, hanc urbem sedem aliquando ut domum summo esse imperio præbituram: nam hanc rerum tantam potentiam non ferme facilius aliâ in parte Italiæ posita urbs tenere potuisset.”—In like manner he praises the sagacity of the succeeding rulers of the Roman state. “Faithful to his plan,” says M. Villemain, “of referring all to the Roman constitution, and of forming rather a history than a political theory, Cicero proceeds to examine, as it were chronologically, the state of Rome at the different epochs of its duration, beginning with its kings. This plan, if it produced any new light on a very dark subject, would have much more interest for us than ideas merely speculative. But Cicero scarcely deviates from the common traditions, which have often exercised the scepticism of the learned. He takes the Roman history nearly as we now have it, and his reflections seem to suppose no other facts than those which have been so eloquently recorded by Livy.” But although, for the sake of illustration, and in deference to common opinion, he argues on the events of early Roman history, as delivered by vulgar tradition, it is evident that, in his own belief, they were altogether uncertain; and if any new authority on that subject were wanting, Cicero’s might be added in favour of their total uncertainty; for Lælius thus interrupts his account of Ancus Martius—“Laudandus etiam iste rex—sed obscura est historia Romana;” and Scipio replies, “Ita est: sed temporum illorum tantum fere regum illustrata sunt nomina.”

At the close of Scipio’s discourse, which is a perpetual panegyric on the successive governments of Rome, and, with exception of the above passage, an uncritical acquiescence in its common history, Tubero remarks, that Cicero had rather praised the Roman government, than examined the constitution of commonwealths in general, and that hitherto he had not explained by what discipline, manners, and laws, a state is to be constituted or preserved. Scipio replies, that this is to be a farther subject of discussion; and he seems now to [pg 273]have adopted a more metaphysical tone: But of the remainder of the book only a few fragments exist; from which, however, it appears, that a question was started, how far the exact observance of justice in a state is politic or necessary. This discussion, at the suggestion of Scipio, is suspended till the succeeding day468.

As the third book of Cicero’s treatise began a second day’s colloquy, it was doubtless furnished with a proœmium, the greater part of which is now lost, as also a considerable portion of the commencement of the dialogue. Towards the conclusion of the preceding book, Scipio had touched on the subject, how far the observance of justice is useful to a state, and Philus had proposed that this topic should be treated more fully, as an opinion was prevalent, that policy occasionally required injustice. Previously to the discovery of Mai, we knew from St Augustine, De Civitate Dei, that in the third book of the treatise De Republicâ, Philus, as a disputant, undertook the cause of injustice, and was answered by Lælius. In the fragment of the third book, Philus excuses himself from becoming (so to speak) the devil’s advocate; but at length agrees to offer, not his own arguments on the subject, but those of Carneades, who, some years before, had one day pleaded the cause of justice at Rome, and next day overturning his own arguments, became the patron of injustice. Philus accordingly proceeds to contend, that if justice were something real, it would be everywhere the same, whereas, in one nation, that is reckoned equitable and holy, which in another is unjust and impious; and, in like manner, in the same city, what is just at one period, becomes unjust at another. In the palimpsest, these sophisms, which have been revived in modern times by Mandeville and others, are interrupted by frequent chasms in the MS. Lælius, as we learn from St Augustine, and from a passage in Aulus Gellius, was requested by all present to undertake the defence of justice; but his discourse, with the exception of a few sentences, is wholly wanting in the palimpsest. At the close he is highly complimented by Scipio, but a large hiatus again intervenes. After this, Scipio is found contending, that wealth and power, Phidian statues, or the most magnificent public works, do not constitute a republic, but the res populi, the good of the whole, and not of any single governing portion of the state. He then concludes with affirming, that of all forms of government, the [pg 274]purely democratic is the worst, and next to that, an unmixed aristocracy.

Of the fourth book only one leaf remains in the palimpsest, the contents of which seem to confirm what we learn from other sources, that it treated of Education and Morals. It is particularly to be regretted that this book has disappeared. It is easy to supply abstract discussions about justice, democracy, and power, and, if they be not supplied, little injury is sustained; but the loss of details relating to manners and customs, from such a hand as that of Cicero, is irreparable. The fifth book is nearly as much mutilated as the fourth, and of the sixth not a fragment remains in the palimpsest, so that Mai’s discovery has added nothing to the beautiful extract from this book, entitled the Somnium Scipionis, preserved by Macrobius. The conclusion of the work De Republicâ, had turned on immortality of fame here, and eternity of existence elsewhere. The Somnium Scipionis is intended to establish, under the form of a political fiction, the sublime dogma of the soul’s immortality, and was probably introduced at the conclusion of the work, for the purpose of adding the hopes and fears of future retribution to the other motives to virtuous exertion. In illustration of this sublime topic, Scipio relates that, in his youth, when he first served in Africa, he visited the court of Massinissa, the steady friend of the Romans, and particularly of the 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 grandchild having retired to rest, the shade of the departed hero appeared to him in sleep, darkly foretold the future events of his life, and encouraged him to tread in the paths of patriotism and true glory, by announcing the reward provided in Heaven for those who have deserved well of their country.

I have thought it proper to give this minute account of the treatise De Republicâ, for the sake of those who may not have had an opportunity of consulting Mai’s publication, and who may be curious to know somewhat of the value and extent of his discovery. On the whole, I suspect that the treatise will disappoint those whose expectations were high, especially if they thought to find in it much political or statistical information. It corresponds little to the idea that one would naturally form of a political work from the pen of Cicero—a distinguished statesman, always courted by the chiefs of political parties, and at one time himself at the head of the government of his country. But, on reflection, it will not appear surprising that we receive from this work so little insight into the doubtful and disputed points of Roman polity. Those questions, with [pg 275]regard to the manner in which the Senate was filled up—the force of degrees of the people, and the rank of the different jurisdictions, which in modern times have formed subjects of discussion, had not become problems in the time of Cicero. The great men whom he introduces in conversation together, understood each other on such topics, by a word or suggestion; and I am satisfied that those parts of the treatise De Republicâ, which are lost, contained as little that could contribute to the solution of such difficulties, as the portions that have been recovered.

But though the work of Cicero will disappoint those who expect to find in it much political information, still, as in his other productions, every page exhibits a rich and glowing magnificence of style, ever subjected to the controul of a taste the most correct and pure. It contains, like all his writings, some passages of exquisite beauty, and everywhere breathes an exalted spirit of virtue and patriotism. The Latin language, so noble in itself, and dignified, assumes additional majesty in the periods of the Roman Consul, and adds an inexpressible beauty and loftiness to the natural sublimity of his sentiments. No writings, in fact, are so full of moral and intellectual grandeur as those of Cicero, none are more calculated to elevate and purify our nature—to inculcate the tu vero enitere, in the path of knowledge and virtue, and to excite not merely a fond desire, or idle longing, but strenuous efforts after immortality. Indeed, the whole life of the Father of his Country was a noble fulfilment, and his sublime philosophic works are but an expansion of that golden precept, tu vero enitere, enjoined from on high, to his great descendant, by the Spirit of the first Africanus469.

About a century after the revival of letters, when mankind had at length despaired of any farther discovery of the philosophic writings of Cicero, the learned men of the age employed themselves in collecting the scattered fragments of his lost works, and arranging them according to the order of the books from which they had been extracted. Sigonius had thus united the detached fragments of the work De Republicâ, and he made a similar attempt to repair another lost treatise of Cicero, entitled De Consolatione. But in this instance he not merely collected the fragments, but connected them by sentences of his own composition. The work De Consolatione was written by Cicero in the year 708, on occasion of the death of his much-loved Tullia, with the design of relieving his own mind, and consecrating to all posterity the virtues [pg 276]and memory of his daughter470. In this treatise, he set out with the paradoxical propositions, that human life is a punishment, and that men are brought into the world only to pay the forfeit of their sins471. Cicero chiefly followed Crantor the Academic472, who had left a celebrated piece on the same topic; but he inserted whatever pleased him in any other author who had written on the subject. He illustrated his precepts, as he proceeded, by examples from Roman history, of eminent characters who had borne a similar loss with that which he had himself sustained, or other severe misfortunes, with remarkable constancy473,—dwelling particularly on the domestic calamities of Q. Maximus, who buried a consular son; of Æmilius Paullus, who lost two sons in two days; and of M. Cato, who had been deprived of a son, who was Prætor-Elect474. Sigonius pretended, that the patched-up treatise De Consolatione, which he gave to the public, was the lost work of Cicero, of which he had discovered a MS. The imposture succeeded for a considerable time, but was at length detected and pointed out by Riccoboni475.

Cicero also wrote a treatise in two books, addressed to Atticus, on the subject of Glory, which was the predominant and most conspicuous passion of his soul. It was composed in the year 710, while sailing along the delightful coast of the Campagna, on his voyage to Greece:—

“On as he moved along the level shore,

These temples, in their splendour eminent

Mid arcs, and obelisks, and domes, and towers,

Reflecting back the radiance of the west,

Well might he dream of glory476!”

This treatise was extant in the 14th century. A copy had been presented to Petrarch, from his vast collection of books, by Raymond Soranzo, a Sicilian lawyer477. Petrarch long preserved this precious volume with great care, and valued it highly. Unfortunately a man called Convenoli, who resided at Avignon, and who had formerly been his preceptor, begged and obtained the loan of it; and having afterwards fallen into indigent circumstances, pawned it for the relief of his necessities, to some unknown person, from whom Petrarch never [pg 277]could regain its possession. Two copies, however, were still extant in the subsequent century, one in a private library at Nuremburg, and another in that of a Venetian nobleman, Bernard Giustiniani, who, dying in 1489, bequeathed his books to a monastery of nuns, to whom Petrus Alcyonius was physician. Filelfo was accused, though on no good foundation, of having burned the Nuremburg copy, after inserting passages from it in his treatise De Contemptu Mundi478. But the charge of destroying the original MS. left by Giustiniani to the nuns, has been urged against Alcyonius on better grounds, and with more success. Paulus Manutius, of whose printing-press Alcyonius had been at one time corrector, charged him with having availed himself of his free access to the library of the nuns, whose physician he was, to purloin the treatise De Gloria, and with having destroyed it, to conceal his plagiarisms, after inserting from it various passages in his dialogue De Exilio479. The assertion of Manutius is founded only on the disappearance of the MS.,—the opportunities possessed by Alcyonius of appropriating it, and his own critical opinion of the dialogue De Exilio, in which he conceives that there are many passages composed in a style evincing a writer of talents, far superior to those of its nominal author. This accusation was repeated by Paulus Jovius and others480. Mencken, in the preface to his edition of the dialogue De Exilio, has maintained the innocence of Alcyonius, and has related a conversation which he had with Bentley on the subject, in the course of which that great scholar declared, that he found nothing in the work of Alcyonius which could convict him of the imputed plagiarism481. He has been defended at greater length by Tiraboschi, on the strong grounds that Giustiniani lived after the invention of printing, and that had he actually been in possession of Cicero’s treatise De Gloriâ, he would doubtless have published it—that it is not said to what monastery of nuns Giustiniani bequeathed this precious MS.—that the charge against Alcyonius was not advanced till after his death, although his dialogue De Exilio was first printed in 1522, and he survived till 1527; and, finally, that so great a proportion of it relates to modern events, that there are not more than a few pages which could possibly have been pilfered from Cicero, or any writer of his age482. M. Bernardi, in a [pg 278]dissertation subjoined to a work above mentioned, De la Republique, has revived the accusation, at least to a certain extent, by quoting various passages from the work of Alcyonius, which are not well connected with the others, and which, being of a superior order of composition, may be conjectured to be those he had detached from the treatises of Cicero. On the whole, the question of the theft and plagiarism of Alcyonius still remains undecided, and will probably continue so till the discovery of some perfect copy of the tract De Gloriâ—an event rather to be earnestly desired than reasonably anticipated.

A fourth lost work of Cicero, is his Hortensius sive de Philosophia. Besides the orator after whom it is named, Catulus, Lucullus, and Cicero himself, were speakers in the dialogue. In the first part, where Hortensius discourses, it was intended to exalt eloquence above philosophy. To his arguments Cicero replied, showing the service that philosophy rendered to eloquence, even in an imperfect state of the social progress, and its superior use in an improved condition of society, in which there should be no wrong, and consequently no tribunals of justice. All this appears from the account given of the Hortensius by St Augustine, who has also quoted from it many beautiful passages—declaring, at the same time, that it was the perusal of this work which first inspired him with a love of wisdom.—“Viluit mihi repente omnis vana spes, et immortalitatem sapientiæ concupiscebam æstu cordis incredibili483.” This dialogue continued to be preserved for a long period after the time of St Augustine, since it is cited as extant in his own age by the famous Roger Bacon484.

It was not till after the æra of Augustus, that works originally destined for the public assumed the name and form of letters. But several collections of epistles, written, during the period on which we are now engaged, to relatives or friends in private confidence, were afterwards extensively circulated. Those of Cornelia, the daughter of the elder Scipio Africanus, and mother of the Gracchi, addressed chiefly to her sons, were much celebrated; but the most ample collection now extant, is that of the Letters of Cicero.

These may be divided into four parts,—1. The Epistolæ Familiares, or Miscellaneous Correspondence; 2. Those to Atticus; 3. To his brother Quintus; 4. To Brutus.

The correspondence, usually entitled Ad Familiares, in[pg 279]cludes a period of about twenty years, commencing immediately after Cicero’s consulate, and ending a few months before his death. The letters which this collection comprehends, are so extremely miscellaneous, that it is impossible even to run over their contents. Previous to the battle of Pharsalia, it chiefly consists of epistles concerning the distribution of consular provinces, and the political intrigues relating to that constantly recurring subject of contention,—recommendatory letters sent with acquaintances going into the provinces—details to absent friends, with regard to the state of parties at Rome, particularly the designs of Pompey and Cæsar, and the factions of Milo and Clodius; and, finally, entertaining anecdotes concerning the most popular and fashionable amusements of the Capital.

Subsequently to the battle of Pharsalia, and during the supremacy of Cæsar, the letters are principally addressed to the chiefs of the Pompeian party, who were at that time in banishment for their adherence to the same cause in which Cicero had been himself engaged. These epistles are chiefly occupied with consolatory reflections on the adverse circumstances in which they were placed, and accounts of his own exertions to obtain their recall. In the perusal of these letters, it is painful and humiliating to observe the gratification which Cicero evidently appears to have received at this period, from the attentions, not merely of Cæsar, but of his creatures and favourites, as Balbus, Hirtius, and Pansa.

After the assassination of Cæsar, the correspondence for the most part relates to the affairs of the Republic, and is directed to the heads of the conspiracy, or to leading men in the state, as Lepidus and Asinius Pollio, who were then in the command of armies, and whom he anxiously exhorts to declare for the commonwealth, and stand forward in opposition to Antony.

There are a good many letters inserted in this collection, addressed to Cicero by his friends. The greatest number are from his old client Cælius, who appears to have been an admirable gossip. They are written to Cicero, during his absence from Rome, in his government of Cilicia, and give him news of party politics—intelligence of remarkable cases tried in the Forum—and of the fashionable scandal of the day. The great object of Cælius seems to have been to obtain in return, the dedication of one of Cicero’s works, and a cargo of panthers from Asia, for his exhibition of games to the Roman people. Towards the conclusion, there are a good many letters from generals, who were at the head of armies in the provinces at the death of Cæsar, and continued their command during the war which the Senate waged against Antony. All of them, [pg 280]but particularly Asinius Pollio, and Lepidus, appear to have acted with consummate treachery and dissimulation towards Cicero and the Senate. On the whole, though the Epistolæ Familiares were private letters, and though some private affairs are treated of in them, they chiefly relate to public concerns, comprehending, in particular, a very full history of Cicero’s government in Cilicia, the civil dissensions of Rome, and the war between Pompey and Cæsar. Seldom, however, do they display any flashes of that eloquence with which the orator was so richly endued; and no transaction, however important, elevated his style above the level of ordinary conversation.

The Epistolæ ad Atticum, are also of great service for the History of Rome. “Whoever,” says Cornelius Nepos, “reads these letters of Cicero, will not want for a connected history of the times. So well does he describe the views of the leading men, the faults of generals, and the changes of parties in the state, that nothing is wanting for our information; and such was his sagacity, we are almost led to believe that it was a kind of divination; for Cicero not only foretold what afterwards happened in his own lifetime, but, like a prophet, predicted events which are now come to pass485.” Along with this knowledge, we obtain more insight into Cicero’s private character, than from the former series of letters, where he is often disguised in the political mask of the great theatre on which he acted, and where many of his defects are concealed under the graceful folds of the toga. It was to Atticus that he most freely unbosomed his thoughts—more completely than even to Tullia, Terentia, or Tiro. Hence, while he evinces in these letters much affection for his family—ardent zeal for the interests of his friends—strong feelings of humanity and justice—warm gratitude to his benefactors, and devoted love to his country, he has not repressed his vanity, or concealed the faults of a mental organization too susceptible of every impression. His sensibility, indeed, was such, that it led him to think his misfortunes were peculiarly distinguished from those of all other men, and that neither himself nor the world could ever sufficiently deplore them: hence the querulous and plaintive tone which pervades the whole correspondence, and which, in the letters written during his exile, resembles more the wailings of the Tristia of Ovid, than what might be expected from the first statesman, orator, and philosopher of the Roman Republic. In every page of them, too, we see traces of his inconsistencies and irresolution—his political, if not his [pg 281]personal timidity—his rash confidence in prosperity, his alarm in danger, his despondence in adversity—his too nice jealousies and delicate suspicions—his proneness to offence, and his unresisting compliance with those who had gained him by flattery, and hypocritical professions of attachment to the commonwealth. Atticus, it is clear, was a bad adviser for his fame, and perhaps for his ultimate safety; and to him may be in a great measure attributed that compromising conduct which has detracted so much from the dignity of his character. “You succeeded,” says Cicero, speaking of Cæsar and Pompey, “in persuading me to keep well with the one, because he had rendered me services, and with the other, because he possessed great power486.” Again, “I followed your advice so punctually, that neither of them had a favourite beyond myself;” and after the war had actually broken out, “I take it very kind that you, in so friendly a manner, advise me to declare as little as possible for either party487.” Such fatal counsels, it is evident, accorded too well with his own inclinations, and palliated, perhaps, to himself the weaknesses to which he gave way. These weaknesses of Cicero it would, indeed, be in vain to deny; but his feelings are little to be envied who can think of them without regret, or speak of them without indulgence.

It is these letters, however, which have handed down the remembrance of Atticus to posterity, and have rendered his name almost as universally known as that of his illustrious correspondent. “Nomen Attici perire,” says Seneca, “Ciceronis Epistolæ non sinunt. Nihil illi profuissent gener Agrippa, et Tiberius progener, et Drusus Cæsar pronepos. Inter tam magna nomina taceretur nisi Cicero illum applicuisset.”

Perhaps the most interesting correspondence of Cicero is that with his brother Quintus, who was some years younger than the orator. He attained the dignity of Prætor in 693, and afterwards held a government in Asia as Pro-prætor for four years. He returned to Rome at the moment in which his brother was driven into exile; and for some time afterwards, was chiefly employed in exerting himself to obtain his recall. As Cæsar’s lieutenant, he served with credit in Gaul; but espoused the republican party at the breaking out of the civil war. He was pardoned, however, by Cæsar, and was slain by the blood-thirsty triumvirate established after his death. Quintus was a man of warm affections, and of some military talents, but of impatient and irritable temper. The orator [pg 282]had evidently a high opinion of his qualifications, and has introduced him as an interlocutor in the dialogues De Legibus and De Divinatione.

The correspondence with Quintus is divided into three books. The first letter in the collection, is one of the noblest productions of the kind which has ever been penned. It is addressed to Quintus on occasion of his government in Asia being prolonged for a third year. Availing himself of the rights of an elder brother, as well as of the authority derived from his superior dignity and talents, Cicero counsels and exhorts his brother concerning the due administration of his province, particularly with regard to the choice of his subordinate officers, and the degree of trust to be reposed in them. He earnestly reproves him, but with much fraternal tenderness and affection, for his proneness to resentment; and he concludes with a beautiful exhortation, to strive in all respects to merit the praise of his contemporaries, and bequeath to posterity an untainted name. The second letter transmits to Quintus an account of some complaints which Cicero had heard in Rome, with regard to his brother’s conduct in the administration of his government. The two following epistles, which conclude the first book, are written from Thessalonica, in the commencement of his exile. The first of these, beginning, “Mi frater, mi frater, mi frater,” written in a sad state of agitation and depression, is a fine specimen of eloquent and pathetic expostulation. It is full of strong and almost unbounded expressions of attachment, and exhibits much of that exaggeration, both in sentiment and language, in which Cicero indulged so frequently in his orations.

The second and third books of letters, addressed to his brother in Sardinia and Gaul, give an interesting account of the state of public affairs during the years 697, 698, and part of 699, as also of his subsisting domestic relations during the same period.

Along with his letters to Quintus, there is usually printed an epistle or memoir, which Quintus addressed to his brother when he stood candidate for the consulship, and which is entitled De Petitione Consulatûs. It gives advice with regard to the measures he should pursue to attain his object, particularly inculcating the best means to gain private friends, and acquire general popularity. But though professedly drawn up merely for the use of his brother, it appears to have been intended by the author as a guide, or manual, for all who might be placed in similar circumstances. It is written with considerable elegance, and perfect purity of style, and forms an important document for the history of the Roman republic, as it affords [pg 283]us a clearer insight than we can derive from any other work now extant, into the intrigues resorted to by the heads of parties to gain the suffrages of the people.

The authenticity of the Correspondence between Cicero and Brutus, has formed the subject of a literary controversy, perhaps the most celebrated which has ever occurred, except that concerning the Epistles of Phalaris.

It is quite ascertained, that a correspondence had been carried on between Cicero and Brutus; and a collection of the letters which had passed between them, extending to not less than eight books, existed for several ages after Cicero’s death. They were all written during the period which elapsed from the assassination of Cæsar to the tragical end of the orator, which comprehended about a year and a half; and it appears from the fragments of them, cited by Plutarch and the grammarians, that they chiefly related to the memorable political events of that important interval, and to a literary controversy which subsisted between Cicero and Brutus, with regard to the attributes of perfect eloquence488.

This collection is mentioned, and passages cited from it, by Quintilian, Plutarch, and even Nonius Marcellus489, who lived about the year 400. After this, all trace of it is lost, till, in the fourteenth century, we find some of the disputed letters in the possession of Petrarch; and it has been conjectured that Petrarch himself was the discoverer of them490. Eighteen of these letters, which were all that were then known, were published at Rome in 1470. Many years afterwards, five more, but in a mutilated state, were found in Germany, and these, in all subsequent editions, were printed along with the original eighteen. All the letters relate to the situation of public affairs after the death of Cæsar. They contain a good deal of recrimination: Brutus blaming Cicero for his dangerous elevation of Octavius, and conferring honours on him too profusely; Cicero censuring Brutus for having spared the life of Antony at the time of the conspiracy.

Now the point in dispute is, If these twenty-three letters be parts of the original eight books of the genuine correspondence of Cicero and Brutus, so often cited by Plutarch, Quintilian, and Nonius; or if they be the forgery of some monk or [pg 284]sophist, during the dark ages which elapsed between the time of Nonius and Petrarch.

From their very first appearance, the eighteen letters, which had come into the possession of Petrarch, passed among the learned for original epistles of Cicero and Brutus; and the five discovered in Germany, though doubted for a while, were soon received into the same rank with the others. Erasmus seems to have been the first who suspected the whole to be the declamatory composition of some rhetorician or sophist. They continued, however, to be cited by every other commentator, critic, and historian, as the unquestionable remains of the great author to whom they were ascribed. Middleton, in particular, in his Life of Cicero, freely referred to them as biographical authorities, along with the Familiar Epistles, and those to Atticus.

Matters were in this situation, when Tunstall, in 1741, addressed a Latin Epistle to Middleton, written professedly to introduce a proposal for a new edition of Cicero’s letters to Atticus, and his brother Quintus. In the first part of this epistle, he attempted to retrieve the original readings of these authentic treasures of Ciceronian history, and asserted their genuine sense against the corruptions or false interpretations of them, which had led to many erroneous conclusions in Middleton’s Life of Cicero. In the second part, he denies the authenticity of the whole correspondence between Cicero and Brutus, which he alleges is the production of some sophist or scholiast of the middle ages, who probably wrote them, according to the practice of those days, as an exercise for his rhetorical talents, and with the view either of drawing up a supplement to the Epistles to Atticus, so as to carry on the history from the period at which they terminate, or to vindicate Cicero’s character from the imputation of rashness, in throwing too much power into the hands of Octavius. Tunstall farther thinks, that the leading subject of these letters was suggested to the sophist by a passage in Plutarch’s Life of Brutus, where it is mentioned that Brutus had remonstrated with Cicero, and complained of him to their mutual friend Atticus, for the court he paid to Octavius, which showed that his aim was not to procure liberty for his country, but a kind master to himself.

Middleton soon afterwards published an English translation of the whole correspondence between Brutus and Cicero, with notes; and, in a prefatory dissertation, written with considerable and unprovoked asperity, he attempted to vindicate the authority of the epistles, and to answer the objections of Tunstall. His adversary replied in an immense English work, of [pg 285]more than 400 pages, entitled, “Observations on the present Collection of Epistles between Cicero and Brutus, representing several evident marks of Forgery in those Epistles, in answer to the late pretences of Dr Middleton: 1744.”

It is difficult to give any sketch of the argumentative part of this famed controversy, as the merit of all such discussion consists in the extreme accuracy and minuteness of investigation. The main scope, however, of the objections, is thus generally exhibited by Tunstall in his Latin epistle. He declares, “that as he came fresh from the perusal of Cicero’s genuine letters, he perceived that those to Brutus wanted the beauty and copiousness of the Ciceronian diction—that the epistles, both of Brutus and Cicero, were drawn in the same style and manner of colouring, and trimmed up with so much art and diligence, that they seemed to proceed rather from scholastic subtlety and meditation, than from the genuine acts and affairs of life—that when, both before and after the date of the letters to Atticus, several epistles had been addressed from Brutus to Cicero, and from Cicero to Brutus, it was strange that those which preceded the letters to Atticus should have been lost, and those alone remain which appear to have been industriously designed for an epilogue to the Epistles to Atticus—that such reasons induced him to suspect, but on looking farther into the letters themselves, he discovered many absurdities in the sense, many improprieties in the language, many remarkable predictions of future events, both on Brutus’s side and Cicero’s; but what was most material, a great number of historical facts, not only quite new, but wholly altered, and some even apparently false, and contradictory to the genuine works of Cicero.”

Such was the state of the controversy, as it stood between Tunstall and Middleton. In 1745, the year after Middleton had published his translation of the epistles, Markland engaged in this literary contest, and came forward in opposition to the authenticity of the letters, by publishing his “Remarks on the Epistles of Cicero to Brutus, and of Brutus to Cicero, in a Letter to a Friend.” The arguments of Tunstall had chiefly turned on historical inconsistencies—those of Markland principally hinge on phrases to be found in the letters, which are not Ciceronian, or even of pure Latinity.

I must here close this long account of the writings of Cicero—of Cicero, distinguished as the Consul of the republic—as the father and saviour of his country—but not less distinguished as the orator, philosopher, and moralist of Rome.—“Salve primus omnium Parens Patriæ appellate,—primus in togâ triumphum linguæque lauream merite, et facundiæ, Latiarumque [pg 286]Literarum parens: atque (ut Dictator Cæsar, hostis quondam tuus, de te scripsit,) omnium triumphorum lauream adopte majorem; quanto plus est, ingenii Romani terminos in tantum promovisse, quàm imperii491.”

In the former volume of this work, I had traced the progress of the language of the Romans, and treated of the different poets by whom it was adorned till the era of Augustus. I had chiefly occasion, in the course of that part of my inquiry, to compare the poetical productions of Rome with those of Greece, and to show that the Latin poetry of this early age, being modelled on that of Athens or Alexandria, had acquired an air of preparation and authorship, and appeared to have been written to obtain the cold approbation of the public, or smiles of a Patrician patron, while the native lines of the Grecian bards seem to be poured fourth like the Delphic oracles, because the god which inspired them was too great to be contained within the bosom. In the prose compositions of the Romans, which have been considered in the present volume, though the exemplaria Græca were still the models of style, we have not observed the same servility of imitation. The agricultural writers of Latium treated of a subject in a great measure foreign to the maritime feelings and commercial occupations of the Greeks; while, in the Latin historians, orators, and philosophers, we listen to a tone of practical utility, derived from the familiar acquaintance which their authors exercised with the affairs of life. The old Latin historians were for the most part themselves engaged in the affairs they related, and almost every oration of Cicero was actually delivered in the Senate or Forum. Among the Romans, philosophy was not, as it had been with many of the Greeks, an academic dream or speculation, which was substituted for the realities of life. In Rome, philosophic inquiries were chiefly prosecuted as supplying arguments and illustrations to the patron for his conflicts in the Forum, and as guiding the citizen in the discharge of his duties to the commonwealth. Those studies, in short, alone were valued, which, as it is beautifully expressed by Cicero, in the person of Lælius—“Efficiant ut usui civitati simus: id enim esse præclarissimum sapientiæ munus, maximumque virtutis documentum puto.”

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