an accomplished orator. He was born and educated at a period when he must have formed the most exalted idea of his country. She had reached the height of power, and had not yet sunk into submission or servility. The subjects to be discussed, and characters to be canvassed, were thus of the most imposing magnitude, and could still be treated with freedom and independence. The education, too, which Cicero had received, was highly favourable to his improvement. He had the first philosophers of the age for his teachers, and he studied the civil law under ScÆvola, the most learned jurisconsult who had hitherto appeared in Rome. When he came to attend the Forum, he enjoyed the advantage of daily hearing Hortensius, unquestionably the most eloquent speaker who had yet shone in the Forum or Senate. The harangues of this great pleader formed his taste, and raised his emulation, and, till near the conclusion of his oratorical career, acted as an incentive to exertions, which might have abated, had he been left without a competitor in the Forum. The blaze of Hortensius’s rhetoric would communicate to his rival a brighter flame of eloquence than if he had been called on to refute a cold and inanimate adversary. Still, however, the great secret of his distinguished oratorical eminence was, that notwithstanding his vanity, he never fell into the apathy with regard to farther improvement, by which self-complacency is so often attended. On the contrary, Cicero, after he had delivered two celebrated orations, which filled the Forum with his renown, so far from resting satisfied with the acclamations of the capital, abandoned, for a time, the brilliant career on which he had entered, and travelled, during two years, through the cities of Greece, in quest of philosophical improvement and rhetorical instruction.
With powers of speaking beyond what had yet been known in his own country, and perhaps not inferior to those which had ever adorned any other, he possessed, in a degree superior to all orators, of whatever age or nation, a general and discursive acquaintance with philosophy and literature, together with an admirable facility of communicating the fruits of his labours, in a manner the most copious, perspicuous, and attractive. To this extensive knowledge, by which his mind was enriched and supplied with endless topics of illustration—to the lofty ideas of eloquence, which perpetually revolved in his thoughts—to that image which ever haunted his breast, of [pg 152]such infinite and superhuman perfection in oratory, that even the periods of Demosthenes did not fill up the measure of his conceptions313, we are chiefly indebted for those emanations of genius, which have given, as it were, an immortal tongue to the now desolate Forum and ruined Senate of Rome.
The first oration which Cicero pronounced, at least of those which are extant, was delivered in presence of four judges appointed by the PrÆtor, and with Hortensius for his opponent. It was in the case of Quintius, which was pleaded in the year 672, when Cicero was 26 years of age, at which time he came to the bar much later than was usual, after having studied civil law under Mucius ScÆvola, and having further qualified himself for the exercise of his profession by the study of polite literature under the poet Archias, as also of philosophy under the principal teachers of each sect who had resorted to Rome. This case was undertaken by Cicero, at the request of the celebrated comedian Roscius, the brother-in-law of Quintius; but it was not of a nature well adapted to call forth or display any of the higher powers of eloquence. It was a pure question of civil right, and, in a great measure, a matter of form; the dispute being whether his client had forfeited his recognisances, and whether his opponent NÆvius had got legal possession of his effects by an edict which the PrÆtor had pronounced, in consequence of the supposed forfeiture. But even here, where the point was more one of dry legal discussion than in any other oration of Cicero, we meet with much invective, calculated to excite the indignation of the judges against the adverse party, and many pathetic supplications, interspersed with high-wrought pictures of the distresses of his client, in order to raise their sympathy in his favour.
Pro Sext. Roscio. In the year following that in which he pleaded the case of Quintius, Cicero undertook the defence of Roscius of Ameria, which was the first public or criminal trial in which he spoke. The father of Roscius had two mortal enemies, of his own name and district. During the proscriptions of Sylla, he was assassinated one evening at Rome, while returning home from supper; and, on pretext that he was in the list proscribed, his estate was purchased for a mere nominal price by Chrysogonus, a favourite slave, to whom Sylla had given freedom, and whom he had permitted to buy the property of Roscius as a forfeiture. Part of the valuable lands thus acquired, were made over by Chrysogonus to the Roscii. These new proprietors, in order to secure themselves in the possession, hired Erucius, an informer and prosecutor [pg 153]by profession, to charge the son with the murder of his father, and they, at the same time, suborned witnesses, in order to convict him of the parricide. From dread of the power of Sylla, the accused had difficulty in prevailing on any patron to undertake his cause; but Cicero eagerly embraced this opportunity to give a public testimony of his detestation of oppression and tyranny. He exculpates his client, by enlarging on the improbability of the accusation, whether with respect to the enormity of the crime charged, or the blameless character and innocent life of young Roscius. He shows, too, that his enemies had completely failed in proving that he laboured under the displeasure of his father, or had been disinherited by him; and, in particular, that his constant residence in the country was no evidence of this displeasure—a topic which leads him to indulge in a beautiful commendation of a rural life, and the ancient rustic simplicity of the Romans. But while he thus vindicates the innocence of Roscius, the orator has so managed his pleading, that it appears rather an artful accusation of the two Roscii, than a defence of his own client. He tries to fix on them the guilt of the murder, by showing that they, and not the son, had reaped all the advantages of the death of old Roscius, and that, availing themselves of the strict law, which forbade slaves to be examined in evidence against their masters, they would not allow those who were with Roscius at the time of his assassination, but had subsequently fallen into their own possession, to be put to the torture. The whole case seems to have been pleaded with much animation and spirit, but the oration was rather too much in that florid Asiatic taste, which Cicero at this time had probably adopted from imitation of Hortensius, who was considered as the most perfect model of eloquence in the Forum; and hence the celebrated passage on the punishment of parricide, (which consisted in throwing the criminal, tied up in a sack, into a river,) was condemned by the severer taste of his more advanced years. “Its intention,” he declares, “was to strike the parricide at once out of the system of nature, by depriving him of air, light, water, and earth, so that he who had destroyed the author of his existence might be excluded from those elements whence all things derived their being. He was not thrown to wild beasts, lest their ferocity should be augmented by the contagion of such guilt—he was not committed naked to the stream, lest he should contaminate that sea which washed away all other pollutions. Everything in nature, however common, was accounted too good for him to share in; for what is so common as air to the living, earth to the dead, the sea to those who float, the shore to those who are [pg 154]cast up. But the parricide lives so as not to breathe the air of heaven, dies so that the earth cannot receive his bones, is tossed by the waves so as not to be washed by them, so cast on the shore as to find no rest on its rocks.” This declamation was received with shouts of applause by the audience; yet Cicero, referring to it in subsequent works, calls it the exuberance of a youthful fancy, which wanted the control of his sounder judgment, and, like all the compositions of young men, was not applauded so much on its own account, as for the promise it gave of more improved and ripened talents314. This pleading is also replete with severe and sarcastic declamation on the audacity of the Roscii, as well as the overgrown power and luxury of Chrysogonus; the orator has even hazarded an insinuation against Sylla himself, which, however, he was careful to palliate, by remarking, that through the multiplicity of affairs, he was obliged to connive at many things which his favourites did against his inclination.
Cicero’s courage in defending and obtaining the acquittal of Roscius, under the circumstances in which the case was undertaken, was applauded by the whole city. By this public opposition to the avarice of an agent of Sylla, who was then in the plenitude of his power, and by the energy with which he resisted an oppressive proceeding, he fixed his character for a fearless and zealous patron of the injured, as much as for an accomplished orator. The defence of Roscius, which acquired him so much reputation in his youth, was remembered by him with such delight in his old age, that he recommends to his son, as the surest path to true honour, to defend those who are unjustly oppressed, as he himself had done in many causes, but particularly in that of Roscius of Ameria, whom he had protected against Sylla himself, in the height of his authority315.
Immediately after the decision of this cause, Cicero, partly on account of his health, and partly for improvement, travelled into Greece and Asia, where he spent two years in the assiduous study of philosophy and eloquence, under the ablest teachers of Athens and Asia Minor. Nor was his style alone formed and improved by imitation of the Greek rhetoricians: his pronunciation also was corrected, by practising under Greek masters, from whom he learned the art of commanding his voice, and of giving it greater compass and variety than it had hitherto attained316. The first cause which he pleaded after his return to Rome, was that of Roscius, the celebrated [pg 155]comedian, in a dispute, which involved a mere matter of civil right, and was of no peculiar interest or importance. All the orations which he delivered during the five following years, are lost, of which number were those for Marcus Tullius, and L. Varenus, mentioned by Priscian as extant in his time. At the end of that period, however, and when Cicero was now in the thirty-seventh year of his age, a glorious opportunity was afforded for the display of his eloquence, in the prosecution instituted against Verres, the PrÆtor of Sicily, a criminal infinitely more hateful than Catiline or Clodius, and to whom the Roman republic, at least, never produced an equal in turpitude and crime. He was now accused by the Sicilians of many flagrant acts of injustice, rapine, and cruelty, committed by him during his triennial government of their island, which he had done more to ruin than all the arbitrary acts of their native tyrants, or the devastating wars between the Carthaginians and Romans.
In the advanced ages of the republic, extortion and violence almost universally prevailed among those magistrates who were exalted abroad to the temptations of regal power, and whose predecessors, by their moderation, had called forth in earlier times the applause of the world. Exhausted in fortune by excess of luxury, they now entered on their governments only to enrich themselves with the spoils of the provinces intrusted to their administration, and to plunder the inhabitants by every species of exaction. The first laws against extortion were promulgated in the beginning of the seventh century. But they afforded little relief to the oppressed nations, who in vain sought redress at Rome; for the decisions there depending on judges generally implicated in similar crimes, were more calculated to afford impunity to the guilty, than redress to the aggrieved. This undue influence received additional weight in the case of Verres, from the high quality and connections of the culprit.
Such were the difficulties with which Cicero had to struggle, in entering on the accusation of this great public delinquent. This arduous task he was earnestly solicited to undertake, by a petition from all the towns of Sicily, except Syracuse and Messina, both which cities had been occasionally allowed by the plunderer to share the spoils of the province. Having accepted this trust, so important in his eyes to the honour of the republic, neither the far distant evidence, nor irritating delays of all those guards of guilt with which Verres was environed, could deter or slacken his exertions. The first device on the part of the criminal, or rather of his counsel, Hortensius, to defeat the ends of justice, was an [pg 156]attempt to wrest the conduct of the trial from the hands of Cicero, by placing it in those of CÆcilius317, who was a creature of Verres, and who now claimed a preference to Cicero, on the ground of personal injuries received from the accused, and a particular knowledge of the crimes of his pretended enemy. The judicial claims of these competitors had therefore to be first decided in that kind of process called Divinatio, in which Cicero delivered his oration, entitled Contra CÆcilium, and shewed, with much power of argument and sarcasm, that he himself was in every way best fitted to act as the impeacher of Verres.
Having succeeded in convincing the judges that CÆcilius only wished to get the cause into his own hands, in order to betray it, Cicero was appointed to conduct the prosecution, and was allowed 110 days to make a voyage to Sicily, in order to collect information for supporting his charge. He finished his progress through the island in less than half the time which had been granted him. On his return he found that a plan had been laid by the friends of Verres, to procrastinate the trial, at least till the following season, when they expected to have magistrates and judges who would prove favourable to his interests. In this design they so far succeeded, that time was not left to go through the cause according to the ordinary forms and practice of oratorical discussion in the course of the year: Cicero, therefore, resolved to lose no time by enforcing or aggravating the several articles of charge, but to produce at once all his documents and witnesses, leaving the rhetorical part of the performance till the whole evidence was concluded. The first oration, therefore, against Verres, which is extremely short, was merely intended to explain the motives which had induced him to adopt this unusual mode of procedure. He accordingly exposes the devices by which the culprit and his cabal were attempting to pervert the course of justice, and unfolds the eternal disgrace that would attach to the Roman law, should their stratagems prove successful. This oration was followed by the deposition of the witnesses, and recital of the documents, which so clearly established the guilt of Verres, that, driven to despair, he submitted, without awaiting his sentence, to a voluntary exile318. It therefore appears, that of the six orations against Verres, only one was pronounced. The other five, forming the series of harangues [pg 157]which he intended to deliver after the proof had been completed, were subsequently published in the same shape as if the delinquent had actually stood his trial, and was to have made a regular defence.
The first of these orations, which to us appears rather foreign to the charge, but was meant to render the proper part of the accusation more probable, exposes the excesses and malversations committed by Verres in early life, before his appointment to the PrÆtorship of Sicily—his embezzlement of public money while QuÆstor of Gaul—his extortions under Dolabella in Asia, and, finally, his unjust, corrupt, and partial decisions while in the office of PrÆtor Urbanus at Rome, which, forming a principal part of the oration, the whole has been entitled De PrÆtura Urbana. In the following harangue, entitled De Jurisdictione Siciliensi, the orator commences with an elegant eulogy on the dignity, antiquity, and usefulness of the province, which was not here a mere idle or rhetorical embellishment, but was most appropriately introduced, as nothing could be better calculated to excite indignation against the spoiler of Sicily, than the picture he draws of its beauty; after which, he proceeds to give innumerable instances of the flagrant sale of justice, offices, and honours, and, among the last, even of the priesthood of Jupiter. The next oration is occupied with the malversations of Verres concerning grain, and the new ordinances, by which he had contrived to put the whole corps of the island at the disposal of his officers. In this harangue the dry statements of the prices of corn are rather fatiguing; but the following oration, De Signis, is one of the most interesting of his productions, particularly as illustrating the history of ancient art. For nearly six centuries Rome had been filled only with the spoils of barbarous nations, and presented merely the martial spectacle of a warlike and conquering people. Subsequently, however, to the campaigns in Magna GrÆcia, Sicily, and Greece, the Roman commanders displayed at their triumphs costly ornaments of gold, pictures, statues, and vases, instead of flocks driven from the Sabines or Volsci, the broken arms of the Samnites, and empty chariots of the Gauls. The statues and paintings 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 temples of the gods319. Marcellus and Mummius, however, despoiled only hostile and conquered countries. They had made over their [pg 158]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, who, allowing much for the high colouring of the counsel and orator, appears to have been infected with a sort of disease, or mania, which gave him an irresistible propensity to seize whatever he saw or heard of, which was precious either in materials or workmanship. For this purpose he retained in his service two brothers from Asia Minor, on whose judgment he relied for the choice of statues and pictures, and who were employed to search out everything of this sort which was valuable in the island. Aided by their suggestions, 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. The chief objects of this pillage were the statues and pictures of the gods, which the Romans regarded with religious veneration; and they, accordingly, viewed such rapine as sacrilege. Hence the frequent adjurations and apostrophes to the deities who had been insulted, which are introduced in the oration. The circumstances of violence and circumvention, under which the depredations were committed, are detailed with much vehemence, and at considerable length. Some description is given of the works of sculpture; and the names of the statuaries by whom they were executed, are also frequently recorded. Thus, we are told that Verres took away from a private gentleman of Messina the marble Cupid, by Praxiteles: He sacrilegiously tore a figure of Victory from the temple of Ceres—he deprived the city Tyndaris of an image of Mercury, which had been restored to it from Carthage, by Scipio, and was worshipped by the people with singular devotion and an annual festival. Some of the works of art were openly carried off—some borrowed under plausible pretences, but never restored, and others forcibly purchased at an inadequate value. If the speech De Signis be the most curious, that De Suppliciis is incomparably the finest of the series of Verrine orations. The [pg 159]subject afforded a wider field than the former for the display of eloquence, and it presents us with topics of more general and permanent interest. Such, indeed, is the vehement pathos, and such the resources employed to excite pity in favour of the oppressed, and indignation against the guilty, that the genius of the orator is nowhere more conspicuously displayed—not even in the Philippics or Catilinarian harangues. It was now proved that Verres had practiced every species of fraud and depredation, and on these heads no room was left for defence. But as the duties of provincial PrÆtors were twofold—the administration of the laws, and the direction of warlike operations—it was suspected that the counsel of Verres meant to divert the attention of the judges from his avarice to his military conduct and valour. This plea the orator completely anticipates. His misconduct, indeed, in the course of the naval operations against the pirates, forms one of the chief topics of Cicero’s bitter invective. He demonstrates that the fleet had been equipped rather for show than for service; that it was unprovided with sailors or stores, and altogether unfit to act against an enemy. The command was given to Cleomenes, a Syracusan, who was ignorant of naval affairs, merely that Verres might enjoy the company of his wife during his absence. The description of the sailing of the fleet from Syracuse is inimitable, and it is so managed that the whole seems to pass before the eyes. Verres, who had not been seen in public for many months, having retired to a splendid pavilion, pitched near the fountain of Arethusa, where he passed his time in company of his favourites, amidst all the delights that arts and luxury could administer, at length appeared, in order to view the departure of the squadron; and a Roman PrÆtor exhibited himself, standing on the shore in sandals, with a purple cloak flowing to his heels, and leaning on the shoulder of a harlot! The fleet, as was to be expected, was driven on shore, and there burned by the pirates, who entered Syracuse in triumph, and retired from it unmolested. Verres, in order to divert public censure from himself, put the captains of the ships to death; and this naturally leads on to the subject which has given name to the oration,—the cruel and illegal executions, not merely of Sicilians, but Roman citizens. The punishments of death and torture usually reserved for slaves, but inflicted by Verres on freemen of Rome, formed the climax of his atrocities, which are detailed in oratorical progression. After the vivid description of his former crimes, one scarcely expects that new terms of indignation will be found; but the expressions of the orator become more glowing, in proportion as Verres grows more daring in [pg 160]his guilt. The sacred character borne over all the world by a Roman citizen, must be fully remembered, in order to read with due feeling the description of the punishment of Gavius, who was scourged, and then nailed to a cross, which, by a refinement in cruelty, was erected on the shore, and facing Italy, that he might suffer death with his view directed towards home and a land of liberty. The whole is poured forth in a torrent of the most rapid and fervid composition; and had it actually flowed from the lips of the speaker, we cannot doubt the prodigious effect it would have had on a Roman audience, and on Roman judges. In the oration De Signis, something, as we have seen, is lost to a modern reader, by the diminished reverence for the mythological deities; and, in like manner, we cannot enter fully into the spirit of the harangue De Suppliciis, which is planned with a direct reference to national feeling, to that stern decorum which could not be overstepped without shame, and that adoration of the majesty of Rome, which invested its citizens with inexpressible dignity, and bestowed on them an almost inviolable nature. Hence the appearance of Verres in public, in a long purple robe, is represented as the climax of his enormities, and the punishment of scourging inflicted on a Roman citizen is treated (without any discussion concerning the justice of the sentence) as an unheard-of and unutterable crime. Yet even those parts least attractive to modern readers, are perfect in their execution; and the whole series of orations will ever be regarded as among the most splendid monuments of Tully’s transcendent genius.
In the renowned cause against Verres, there can be no doubt that the orator displayed the whole resources of his vast talents. Every circumstance concurred to stimulate his exertions and excite his eloquence. It was the first time he had appeared as an accuser in a public trial—his clients were the injured people of a mighty province, rivalling in importance the imperial state—the inhabitants of Sicily surrounded the Forum, and an audience was expected from every quarter of Italy, of all that was exalted, intelligent, and refined. But, chiefly, he had a subject, which, from the glaring guilt of the accused, and the nature of his crimes, was so copious, interesting, and various, so abundant in those topics which an orator would select to afford full scope for the exercise of his powers, that it was hardly possible to labour tamely or listlessly in so rich a mine of eloquence. Such a wonderful assemblage of circumstances never yet prepared the course for the triumphs of oratory; so great an opportunity for the exhibition of forensic art will, in all probability, never again occur. Suf[pg 161]fice it to say, that the orator surpassed by his workmanship the singular beauty of his materials; and instead of being overpowered by their magnitude, derived from the vast resources which they supplied the merit of an additional excellence, in the skill and discernment of his choice.
The infinite variety of entertaining anecdotes with which the series of pleadings against Verres abounds—the works of art which are commemorated—the interesting topographical descriptions—the insight afforded into the laws and manners of the ancient Sicilians—the astonishing profusion of ironical sallies, all conspire to dazzle the imagination and rivet the attention of the reader; yet there is something in the idea that they were not actually delivered, which detracts from the effect of circumstances which would otherwise heighten our feelings. It appears to us even preposterous to read, in the commencement of the second oration, of a report having been spread that Verres was to abandon his defence, but that there he sat braving his accusers and judges with his characteristic impudence. The exclamations on his effrontery, and the adjurations of the judges, lose their force, when we cannot help recollecting that before one word of all this could be pronounced, the person against whom they were directed as present had sneaked off into voluntary exile. Whatever effect this recollection may have had on the ancients, who regarded oratory as an art, and an oration as an elaborate composition, nothing can be more grating or offensive to the taste and feelings of a modern reader, whose idea of eloquence is that of something natural, heart-felt, inartificial, and extemporaneous.
The Sicilians, though they could scarcely have been satisfied with the issue of the trial, appear to have been sufficiently sensible of Cicero’s great exertions in their behalf. Blainville, in his Travels, mentions, that while at Grotta Ferrata, a convent built on the ruins of Cicero’s Tusculan Villa, he had been shown a silver medal, unquestionably antique, struck by the Sicilians in gratitude for his impeachment of Verres. One side exhibits a head of Cicero, crowned with laurel, with the legend M. T. Ciceroni—on the reverse, there is the representation of three legs extended in a triangular position, in the form of the three great capes or promontories of Sicily, with the motto,—“Prostrato Verre Trinacria.”
Pro Fonteio. It is much to be regretted, that the oration for Fonteius, the next which Cicero delivered, has descended to us incomplete. It was the defence of an unpopular governor, accused of oppression by the province intrusted to his administration; and, as such, would have formed an interesting contrast to the accusation of Verres.
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Pro CÆcina. This was a mere question of civil right, turning on the effect of a PrÆtorian edict.
Pro Lege Manilia. Hitherto Cicero had only addressed the judges in the Forum in civil suits or criminal prosecutions. The oration for the Manilian law, which is accounted one of the most splendid of his productions, was the first in which he spoke to the whole people from the rostrum. It was pronounced in favour of a law proposed by Manilius, a tribune of the people, for constituting Pompey sole general, with extraordinary powers, in the war against Mithridates and Tigranes, in which Lucullus at that time commanded. The chiefs of the Senate regarded this law as a dangerous precedent in the republic; and all the authority of Catulus, and eloquence of Hortensius, were directed against it. It has been conjectured, that in supporting pretensions which endangered the public liberty, Cicero was guided merely by interest, since an opposition to Pompey might have prevented his own election to the consulship, which was now the great object of his ambition. His life, however, and writings, will warrant us in ascribing to him a different, though perhaps less obvious motive. With the love of virtue and the republic, which glowed so intensely in the breast of this illustrious Roman, that less noble passion, the immoderate desire of popular fame, was unfortunately mingled. “Fame,” says a modern historian, “was the prize at which he aimed; his weakness of bodily constitution sought it through the most strenuous labours—his natural timidity of mind pursued it through the greatest dangers. Pompey, who had fortunately attained it, he contemplated as the happiest of men, and was led, from this illusion of fancy, not only to speak of him, but really to think of him,” (till he became unfortunate,) “with a fondness of respect bordering on enthusiasm. The glare of glory that surrounded Pompey, concealed from Cicero his many and great imperfections, and seduced an honest citizen, and finest genius in Rome, a man of unparalleled industry, and that generally applied to the noblest purposes, into the prostitution of his abilities and virtues, for exalting an ambitious chief, and investing him with such exorbitant and unconstitutional powers, as virtually subverted the commonwealth320.”
In defending this pernicious measure, Cicero divided his discourse into two parts—showing, first, that the importance and imminent dangers of the contest in which the state was engaged, required the unusual remedy proposed—and, secondly, that Pompey was the fittest person to be intrusted with the conduct [pg 163]of the war. This leads to a splendid panegyric on that renowned commander, in which, while he does justice to the merits of his predecessor, Lucullus, he enlarges on the military skill, valour, authority, and good fortune of this present idol of his luxuriant imagination, with all the force and beauty which language can afford. He fills the imagination with the immensity of the object, kindles in the breast an ardour of affection and gratitude, and, by an accumulation of circumstances and proofs, so aggrandizes his hero, that he exalts him to something more than mortal in the minds of his auditory; while, at the same time, every word inspires the most perfect veneration for his character, and the most unbounded confidence in his integrity and judgment. The whole world is exhibited as an inadequate theatre for the actions of such a superior genius; while all the nations, and potentates of the earth, are in a manner called as witnesses of his valour and his truth. By enlarging on these topics, by the most solemn protestations of his own sincerity, and by adducing examples from antiquity, of the state having been benefited or saved, by intrusting unlimited power to a single person, he allayed all fears of the dangers which it was apprehended might result to the constitution, from such extensive authority being vested in one individual—and thus struck the first blow towards the subversion of the republic!
Pro Cluentio. This is a pleading for Cluentius, who, at his mother’s instigation, was accused of having poisoned his stepfather, Oppianicus. Great part of the harangue appears to be but collaterally connected with the direct subject of the prosecution. Oppianicus, it seems, had been formerly accused by Cluentius, and found guilty of a similar attempt against his life; but after his condemnation, a report became current that Cluentius had prevailed in the cause by corrupting the judges, and, to remove the unfavourable impression thus created against his client, Cicero recurs to the circumstances of that case. In the second part of the oration, which refers to the accusation of poisoning Oppianicus, he finds it necessary to clear his client from two previous charges of attempts to poison. In treating of the proper subject of the criminal proceedings, which does not occupy above a sixth part of the whole oration, he shows that Cluentius could have had no access or opportunity to administer poison to his father, who was in exile; that there was nothing unusual or suspicious in the circumstances of his death; and that the charge originated in the machinations of Cluentius’ unnatural mother, against whom he inveighs with much force, as one hurried along blindfold by guilt—who acts with such folly that no one can ac[pg 164]count her a rational creature—with such violence that none can imagine her to be a woman—with such cruelty, that none can call her a mother. The whole oration discloses such a scene of enormous villainy—of murders, by poison and assassination—of incest, and subornation of witnesses, that the family history of Cluentius may be regarded as the counterpart in domestic society, of what the government of Verres was in public life. Though very long, and complicated too, in the subject, it is one of the most correct and forcible of all Cicero’s judicial orations; and, under the impression that it comes nearer to the strain of a modern pleading than any of the others, it has been selected by Dr Blair as the subject of a minute analysis and criticism321.
De Lege Agraria contra Rullum. In his discourse Pro Lege Manilia, the first of the deliberative kind addressed to the assembly of the people, Cicero had the advantage of speaking for a favourite of the multitude, and against the chiefs of the Senate; but he was placed in a very different situation when he came to oppose the Agrarian law. This had been for 300 years the darling object of the Roman tribes—the daily attraction and rallying word of the populace—the signal of discord, and most powerful engine of the seditious tribunate. The first of the series of orations against the Agrarian law, now proposed by Rullus, was delivered by Cicero in the Senate-house, shortly after his election to the consulship: The second and third were addressed to the people from the rostrum. The scope of the present Agrarian law was, to appoint Decemvirs for the purpose of selling the public domains in the provinces, and to recover from the generals the spoils acquired in foreign wars, by which a fund might be formed for the purchase of lands in Italy, particularly Campania—to be equally divided among the people. Cicero, in his first oration, of which the commencement is now wanting, quieted the alarms of the Senate, by assuring them of his resolution to oppose the law with his utmost power. When the question came before the people, he did not fear to encounter the Tribunes on their own territory, and most popular subject; he did not hesitate to make the rabble judges in their own cause, though one in which their passions, interests, and prejudices, and those of their fathers, had been engaged for so many centuries. Conscious of his superiority, he invited the Tribunes to ascend the rostrum, and argue the point with him before the assembled multitude; but the field was left clear to his argument and eloquence, and by alternately flat[pg 165]tering the people, and ridiculing the proposer of the law, he gave such a turn to their inclinations, that they rejected the proposition as eagerly as they had before received it.
But although the Tribunes were unable to cope with Cicero in the Forum, they subsequently contrived to instil suspicions into the minds of the populace, with regard to his motives in opposing the Agrarian law. These imputations made such an impression on the city, that he found it necessary to defend himself against them, in a short speech to the people. It has been disputed, whether this third oration was the last which Cicero pronounced on occasion of this Agrarian law. In the letters to Atticus, while speaking of his consular orations, he says, “that among those sent, was that pronounced in the Senate, and that addressed to the people, on the Agrarian law322.” These are the first and second of the speeches, which we now have against Rullus; but he also mentions, that there were two apospasmatia, as he calls them, concerning the Agrarian law. Now, what is at present called the third, was probably the first of these two, and the last must have perished.
Pro Rabirio. About the year 654, Saturninus, a seditious Tribune, had been slain by a party attached to the interests of the Senate. Thirty-six years afterwards, Rabirius was accused of accession to this murder, by Labienus, subsequently well known as CÆsar’s lieutenant in Gaul. Hortensius had pleaded the cause before the Duumvirs, Caius and Lucius CÆsar, by whom Rabirius being condemned, appealed to the people, and was defended by Cicero in the Comitia. The Tribune, it seems, had been slain in a tumult during a season of such danger, that a decree had been passed by the Senate, requiring the Consuls to be careful that the republic received no detriment. This was supposed to sanction every proceeding which followed in consequence; and the design of the popular party, in the impeachment of Rabirius, was to attack this prerogative of the Senate. Cicero’s oration on this contention between the Senatorial and Tribunitial power, gives us more the impression of prompt and unstudied eloquence than most of his other harangues. It is, however, a little obscure, partly from the circumstance that the accuser would not permit him to exceed half an hour in the defence. The argument seems to have been, that Rabirius did not kill Saturninus; but that even if he had slain him, the action was not merely legal, but praiseworthy, since all citizens had been required to arm in aid of the Consuls.
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It was believed, that in spite of the exertions of Cicero, Rabirius would have been condemned, had not the PrÆtor Metellus devised an expedient for dissolving the Comitia, before sentence could be passed. The cause was neither farther prosecuted at this time, nor subsequently revived; the public attention being now completely engrossed by the imminent dangers of the Catilinarian Conspiracy, which was discovered during the Consulship of Cicero.
Contra Catilinam. The detection and suppression of that nefarious plot, form the most glorious part of the political life of Cicero; and the orations he pronounced against the chief conspirator, are still regarded as the most splendid monuments of his eloquence. It was no longer to defend the rights and prerogatives of a municipal town or province, nor to move and persuade a judge in favour of an unfortunate client, but to save his country and the republic, that Cicero ascended the Rostrum. The conspiracy of Catiline tended to the utter extinction of the city and government. Cicero, having discovered his design, (which was to leave Rome and join his army, assembled in different parts of Italy, while the other conspirators remained within the walls, to butcher the Senators and fire the capital,) summoned the Senate to meet in the Temple of Jupiter Stator, with the intention of laying before it the whole circumstances of the plot. But Catiline having unexpectedly appeared in the midst of the assembly, his audacity impelled the consular orator into an abrupt invective, which is directly addressed to the traitor, and commences without the preamble by which most of his other harangues are introduced. In point of effect, this oration must have been perfectly electric. The disclosure to the criminal himself of his most secret purposes—their flagitious nature, threatening the life of every one present—the whole course of his villainies and treasons, blazoned forth with the fire of incensed eloquence—and the adjuration to him, by flying from Rome, to free his country from such a pestilence, were all wonderfully calculated to excite astonishment, admiration, and horror. The great object of the whole oration, was to drive Catiline into banishment; and it appears somewhat singular, that so dangerous a personage, and who might have been so easily convicted, should thus have been forced, or even allowed, to withdraw to his army, instead of being seized and punished. Catiline having escaped unmolested to his camp, the conduct of the Consul in not apprehending, but sending away this formidable enemy, had probably excited some censure and discontent; and the second Catilinarian oration was in consequence delivered by Cicero, in an assembly of the people, in [pg 167]order to justify his driving the chief conspirator from Rome. A capital punishment, he admits, ought long since to have overtaken Catiline, but such was the spirit of the times, that the existence of the conspiracy would not have been believed, and he had therefore resolved to place his guilt in a point of view so conspicuous, that vigorous measures might without hesitation be adopted, both against Catiline and his accomplices. He also takes this opportunity to warn his audience against those bands of conspirators who still lurked within the city, and whom he divides into various classes, describing, in the strongest language, the different degrees of guilt and profligacy by which they were severally characterized.
Manifest proofs of the whole plot having been at length obtained, by the arrest of the ambassadors from the Allobroges, with whom the conspirators had tampered, and who were bearing written credentials from them to their own country, Cicero, in his third oration, laid before the people all the particulars of the discovery, and invited them to join in celebrating a thanksgiving, which had been decreed by the Senate to his honour, for the preservation of his country.
The last Catilinarian oration was pronounced in the Senate, on the debate concerning the punishment to be inflicted on the conspirators. Silanus had proposed the infliction of instant death, while CÆsar had spoken in favour of the more lenient sentence of perpetual imprisonment. Cicero does not precisely declare for any particular punishment; but he shows that his mind evidently inclined to the severest, by dwelling on the enormity of the conspirators’ guilt, and aggravating all their crimes with much acrimony and art. His sentiments finally prevailed; and those conspirators, who had remained in Rome, were strangled under his immediate superintendence.
In these four orations, the tone and style of each of them, particularly of the first and last, is very different, and accommodated with a great deal of judgment to the occasion, and to the circumstances under which they were delivered. Through the whole series of the Catilinarian orations, the language of Cicero is well calculated to overawe the wicked, to confirm the good, and encourage the timid. It is of that description which renders the mind of one man the mind of a whole assembly, or a whole people323.
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Pro MurÆna.—The Comitia being now held in order to choose Consuls for the ensuing year, Junius Silanus and MurÆna were elected. The latter candidate had for his competitor the celebrated jurisconsult Sulpicius Rufus; who, being assisted by Cato, charged MurÆna with having prevailed by bribery and corruption. This impeachment was founded on the Calpurnian law, which had lately been rendered more strict, on the suggestion of Sulpicius, by a Senatusconsultum. Along with this accusation, the profligacy of MurÆna’s character was objected to, and also the meanness of his rank, as he was but a knight and soldier, whereas Sulpicius was a patrician and lawyer. Cicero therefore shows, in the first place, that he amply merited the consulship, from his services in the war with Mithridates, which introduces a comparison between a military and forensic life. While he pays his usual tribute of applause to cultivated eloquence, he derides the forms and phraseology of the jurisconsults, by whom the civil law was studied and practised. As to the proper subject of the accusation, bribery in his election, it seems probable that MurÆna had been guilty of some practices which, strictly speaking, were illegal, yet were warranted by custom. They seem to have consisted in encouraging a crowd to attend him on the streets, and in providing shows for the entertainment of the multitude; which, though expected by the people, and usually overlooked by the magistrates, appeared heinous offences in the eye of the rigid and stoical Cato. Aware of the weight added to the accusation by his authority, Cicero, in order to obviate this influence, treats his stoical principles in the same tone which he had already used concerning the profession of Sulpicius. In concluding, he avails himself of the difficulties of the times, and the yet unsuppressed conspiracy of Catiline, which rendered it unwise to deprive the city of a Consul well qualified to defend it in so dangerous a crisis.
This case was one of great expectation, from the dignity of the prosecutors, and eloquence of the advocates for the accused. Before Cicero spoke, it had been pleaded by Hortensius, and Crassus the triumvir; and Cicero, in engaging in the cause, felt the utmost desire to surpass these rivals of his eloquence. Such was his anxiety, that he slept none during the whole night which preceded the hearing of the cause; and being thus exhausted with care, his eloquence on this occasion fell short of that of Hortensius324. He shows, however, much delicacy and art in the manner in which he manages the attack on the philosophy of Cato, and profession of Sulpicius, [pg 169]both of whom were his particular friends, and high in the estimation of the judges he addressed325.
Pro Valerio Flacco.—Flaccus had aided Cicero in his discovery of the conspiracy of Catiline, and, in return, was defended by him against a charge of extortion and peculation, brought by various states of Asia Minor, which he had governed as Pro-prÆtor.
Pro Cornelio Sylla.—Sylla, who was afterwards a great partizan of CÆsar’s, was prosecuted for having been engaged in Catiline’s conspiracy; but his accuser, Torquatus, digressing from the charge against Sylla, turned his raillery on Cicero; alleging, that he had usurped the authority of a king; and asserting, that he was the third foreign sovereign who had reigned at Rome after Numa and Tarquin. Cicero, therefore, in his reply, had not only to defend his client, but to answer the petulant raillery by which his antagonist attempted to excite envy and odium against himself. He admits that he was a foreigner in one sense of the word, having been born in a municipal town of Italy, in common with many others who had rendered the highest services to the city; but he repels the insinuation that he usurped any kingly authority; and being instigated by this unmerited attack, he is led on to the eulogy of his own conduct and consulship,—a favourite subject, from which he cannot altogether depart, even when he enters more closely into the grounds of the prosecution.
For this defence of Cornelius Sylla, Cicero privately received from his client the sum of 20,000 sesterces, which chiefly enabled him to purchase his magnificent house on the Palatine Hill.
Pro Archia.—This is one of the orations of Cicero on which he has succeeded in bestowing the finest polish, and it is perhaps the most pleasing of all his harangues. Archias had been his preceptor, and, after having obtained much reputation by his Greek poems, on the triumphs of Lucullus over Mithridates, and of Marius over the Cimbri, was now attempting to celebrate the consulship of Cicero; so that the orator, in pleading his cause, expected to be requited by the praises of his muse.
This poet was a native of Antioch, and, having come to Italy in early youth, was rewarded for his learning and genius with the friendship of the first men in the state, and with the citizenship of Heraclea, a confederate and enfranchised town of Magna GrÆcia. A few years afterwards, a law was [pg 170]enacted, conferring the rights of Roman citizens on all who had been admitted to the freedom of federate states, provided they had a settlement in Italy at the time when the law was passed, and had asserted the privilege before the PrÆtor within sixty days from the period at which it was promulgated. After Archias had enjoyed the benefit of this law for more than twenty years, his claims were called in question by one Gracchus, who now attempted to drive him from the city, under the enactment expelling all foreigners who usurped, without due title, the name and attributes of Roman citizens. The loss of records, and some other circumstances, having thrown doubts on the legal right of his client, Cicero chiefly enlarged on the dignity of literature and poetry, and the various accomplishments of Archias, which gave him so just a claim to the privileges he enjoyed. He beautifully describes the influence which study and a love of letters had exercised on his own character and conduct. He had thence imbibed the principle, that glory and virtue should be the darling objects of life, and that to attain these, all difficulties, or even dangers, were to be despised. But, of all names dear to literature and genius, that of poet was the most sacred: hence it would be an extreme of disgrace and profanation, to reject a bard who had employed the utmost efforts of his art to make Rome immortal by his muse, and had possessed such prevailing power as to touch with pleasure even the stubborn and intractable soul of Marius.
The whole oration is interspersed with beautiful maxims and sentences, which have been quoted with delight in all ages. There appears in it, however, perhaps too much, and certainly more than in the other orations, of what Lord Monboddo calls concinnity. “We have in it,” observes he, speaking of this oration, “strings of antitheses, the figure of like endings, and a perfect similarity of the structure, both as to the grammatical form of the words, and even the number of them326.” The whole, too, is written in a style of exaggeration and immoderate praise. The orator talks of the poet Archias, as if the whole glory of Rome, and salvation of the commonwealth, depended on his poetical productions, and as if the smallest injury offered to him would render the name of Rome execrable and infamous in all succeeding generations.
Pro Cn. Plancio.—The defence of Plancius was one of the first orations pronounced by Cicero after his return from banishment. Plancius had been QuÆstor of Macedon when Cicero came to that country during his exile, and had received [pg 171]him with honours proportioned to his high character, rather than his fallen fortunes. In return for this kindness, Cicero undertook his defence against a charge, preferred by a disappointed competitor, of bribery and corruption in suing for the Ædileship.
Pro Sextio.—This is another oration produced by the gratitude of Cicero, and the circumstances of his banishment. Sextius, while Tribune of the people, had been instrumental in procuring his recall, and Cicero requited this good office by one of the longest and most elaborate of his harangues. The accusation, indeed, was a consequence of his interposition in favour of the illustrious exile; for when about to propose his recall to the people, he was violently attacked by the Clodian faction, and left for dead on the street. His enemies, however, though obviously the aggressors, accused him of violence, and exciting a tumult. This was the charge against which Cicero defended him. The speech is valuable for the history of the times; as it enters into all the recent political events in which Cicero had borne so distinguished a part. The orator inveighs against his enemies, the Tribune Clodius, and the Consuls Gabinius and Piso, and details all the circumstances connected with his own banishment and return, occasionally throwing in a word or two about his client Sextius.
Contra Vatinium.—Vatinius, who belonged to the Clodian faction, appeared, at the trial of Sextius, as a witness against him. This gave Cicero an opportunity of interrogating him; and the whole oration being a continued invective on the conduct of Vatinius, poured forth in a series of questions, without waiting for an answer to any of them, has been entitled, Interrogatio.
Pro CÆlio.—Middleton has pronounced this to be the most entertaining of the orations which Cicero has left us, from the vivacity of wit and humour with which he treats the gallantries of Clodia, her commerce with CÆlius, and in general the gaieties and licentiousness of youth.
CÆlius was a young man of considerable talents and accomplishments, who had been intrusted to the care of Cicero on his first introduction to the Forum; but having imprudently engaged in an intrigue with Clodia, the well-known sister of Clodius, and having afterwards deserted her, she accused him of an attempt to poison her, and of having borrowed money from her in order to procure the assassination of Dio, the Alexandrian ambassador. In this, as in most other prosecutions of the period, a number of charges, unconnected with the main one, seem to have been accumulated, in order to [pg 172]give the chief accusation additional force and credibility. Cicero had thus to defend his client against the suspicions arising from the general libertinism of his conduct. He justifies that part of it which related to his intercourse with Clodia, by enlarging on the loose character of this woman, whom he treats with very little ceremony; and, in order to place her dissolute life in a more striking point of view, he conjures up in fancy one of her grim and austere ancestors of the Clodian family reproaching her with her shameful degeneracy. All this the orator was aware would not be sufficient for the complete vindication of his client; and it is curious to remark the ingenuity with which the strenuous advocate of virtue and regularity of conduct palliates, on this occasion, the levities of youth,—not, indeed, by lessening the merits of strict morality, but by representing those who withstand the seductions of pleasure as supernaturally endued.
This oration was a particular favourite of one who was long a distinguished speaker in the British Senate. “By the way,” says Mr Fox, in a letter to Wakefield, “I know no speech of Cicero more full of beautiful passages than this is, nor where he is more in his element. Argumentative contention is what he by no means excels in; and he is never, I think, so happy as when he has an opportunity of exhibiting a mixture of philosophy and pleasantry; and especially when he can interpose anecdotes and references to the authority of the eminent characters in the history of his country. No man appears, indeed, to have had such real respect for authority as he; and therefore, when he speaks upon that subject, he is always natural and in earnest; and not like those among us, who are so often declaiming about the wisdom of our ancestors, without knowing what they mean, or hardly ever citing any particulars of their conduct, or of their dicta327.”
De Provinciis Consularibus. The government of Gaul was continued to CÆsar, in consequence of this oration, so that it may be considered as one of the immediate causes of the ruin of the Roman Republic, which it was incontestibly the great wish of Cicero to protect and maintain inviolate. But Cicero had evidently been duped by CÆsar, as he formerly had nearly been by Catiline, and as he subsequently was by Octavius, Pollio, and every one who found it his interest to cajole him, by proclaiming his praises, and professing ardent zeal for the safety of the state. So little had he penetrated the real views of CÆsar, that we find him asking the Senate, in his oration, what possible motive or inducement CÆsar [pg 173]could have to remain in the province of Gaul, except the public good. “For would the amenity of the regions, the beauty of the cities, or civilization of the inhabitants, detain him there—or can a return to one’s native country be so distasteful?”
Pro Cornelio Balbo.—Balbus was a native of Cadiz, who having been of considerable service to Pompey, during his war in Spain, against Sertorius, had, in return, received the freedom of Rome from that commander, in virtue of a special law, by which he had obtained the power of granting this benefit to whom he chose. The validity of Pompey’s act, however, was now questioned, on the ground that Cadiz was not within the terms of that relation and alliance to Rome, which could, under any circumstances, entitle its citizens to such a privilege. The question, therefore, was, whether the inhabitants of a federate state, which had not adopted the institutions and civil jurisprudence of Rome, could receive the rights of citizenship. This point was of great importance to the municipal towns of the Republic, and the oration throws considerable light on the relations which existed between the provinces and the capital.
In Pisonem.—Piso having been recalled from his government of Macedon, in consequence of Cicero’s oration, De Provinciis Consularibus, he complained, in one of his first appearances in the Senate, of the treatment he had received, and attacked the orator, particularly on the score of his poetry, ridiculing the well known line,
Cicero replied in a bitter invective, in which he exposed the whole life and conduct of his enemy to public contempt and detestation. The most singular feature of this harangue is the personal abuse and coarseness of expression it contains, which appear the more extraordinary when we consider that it was delivered in the Senate-house, and directed against an individual of such distinction and consequence as Piso. Cicero applies to him the opprobrious epithets of bellua, furia, carnifex, furcifer, &c.; he banters him on his personal deformities, and upbraids him with his ignominious descent on one side of the family, while, on the other, he had no resemblance to his ancestors, except to the sooty complexion of their images.
Pro Milone.—When Milo was candidate for the Consulship, the notorious demagogue Clodius supported his competitors, and during the canvass, party spirit grew so violent, that the [pg 174]two factions often came to blows within the walls of the city. While these dissensions were at their height, Clodius and Milo met on the Appian Way—the former returning from the country towards Rome, and the latter setting out for Lanuvium, both attended by a great retinue. A quarrel arose among their followers, in which Clodius was wounded and carried into a house in the vicinity. By order of Milo, the doors were broken open, his enemy dragged out, and assassinated on the highway. The death of Clodius excited much confusion and tumult at Rome, in the course of which the courts of justice were burned by a mob. Milo having returned from the banishment into which he had at first withdrawn, was impeached for the crime by the Tribunes of the people; and Pompey, in virtue of the authority conferred on him by a decree of the Senate, nominated a special commission to inquire into the murder committed on the Appian Way. In order to preserve the tranquillity of the city, he placed guards in the Forum, and occupied all its avenues with troops. This unusual appearance, and the shouts of the Clodian faction, which the military could not restrain, so discomposed the orator, that he fell short of his usual excellence. The speech which he actually delivered, was taken down in writing, and is mentioned by Asconius Pedianus as still extant in his time. But that beautiful harangue which we now possess, is one which was retouched and polished, as a gift for Milo, after he had retired in exile to Marseilles.
In the oration, as we now have it, Cicero takes his exordium from the circumstances by which he was so much, though, as he admits, so causelessly disconcerted; since he knew that the troops were not placed in the Forum to overawe, but to protect. In entering on the defence, he grants that Clodius was killed, and by Milo; but he maintains that homicide is, on many occasions, justifiable, and on none more so than when force can only be repelled by force, and when the slaughter of the aggressor is necessary for self-preservation. These principles are beautifully illustrated, and having been, as the orator conceives, sufficiently established, are applied to the case under consideration. He shows, from the circumstantial evidence of time and place—the character of the deceased—the retinue by which he was accompanied—his hatred to Milo—the advantages which would have resulted to him from the death of his enemy, and the expressions proved to have been used by him, that Clodius had laid an ambush for Milo. Cicero, it is evident, had here the worst of the cause. The encounter appears, in fact, to have been accidental; and though the servants of Clodius may, perhaps, have been the assailants, [pg 175]Milo had obviously exceeded the legitimate bounds of self defence. The orator accordingly enforces the argument, that the assassination of Clodius was an act of public benefit, which, in a consultation of Milo’s friends, was the only one intended to have been advanced, and was the sole defence adopted in the oration which Brutus is said to have prepared for the occasion. Cicero, while he does not forego the advantage of this plea, maintains it hypothetically, contending that even if Milo had openly pursued and slain Clodius as a common enemy, he might well boast of having freed the state from so pernicious and desperate a citizen. To add force to this argument, he takes a rapid view of the various acts of atrocity committed by Clodius, and the probable situation of the Republic, were he to revive. When the minds of the judges were thus sufficiently prepared, he ascribes his tragical end to the immediate interposition of the providential powers, specially manifested by his fall near the temple of Bona Dea, whose mysteries he had formerly profaned. Having excited sufficient indignation against Clodius, he concludes with moving commiseration for Milo, representing his love for his country and fellow-citizens,—the sad calamity of exile from Rome,—and his manly resignation to whatever punishment might be inflicted on him.
The argument in this oration was perhaps as good as the circumstances admitted; but we miss through the whole that reference to documents and laws, which gives the stamp of truth to the orations of Demosthenes. Each ground of defence, taken by itself, is deficient in argumentative force. Thus, in maintaining that the death of Clodius was of no benefit to Milo, he has taken too little into consideration the hatred and rancour mutually felt by the heads of political factions: but he supplies his weakness of argument by illustrative digressions, flashes of wit, bursts of eloquence, and appeals to the compassion of the judges, on which he appears to have placed much reliance328. On the whole, this oration was accounted, both by Cicero himself and by his contemporaries, as the finest effort of his genius; which confirms what indeed is evinced by the whole history of Roman eloquence, that the judges were easily satisfied on the score of reasoning, and attached more importance to pathos, and wit, and sonorous periods, than to fact or law.
Pro Rabirio Postumo.—This is the defence of Rabirius, who was prosecuted for repayment of a sum which he was [pg 176]supposed to have received, in conjunction with the Proconsul Gabinius, from King Ptolemy, for having placed him on the throne of Egypt, contrary to the injunctions of the Senate.
Pro Ligario.—This oration was pronounced after CÆsar, having vanquished Pompey in Thessaly, and destroyed the remains of the Republican party in Africa, assumed the supreme administration of affairs at Rome. Merciful as the conqueror appeared, he was understood to be much exasperated against those who, after the rout at Pharsalia, had renewed the war in Africa. Ligarius, when on the point of obtaining a pardon, was formally accused by his old enemy Tubero, of having borne arms in that contest. The Dictator himself presided at the trial of the case, much prejudiced against Ligarius, as was known from his having previously declared, that his resolution was fixed, and was not to be altered by the charms of eloquence. Cicero, however, overcame his prepossessions, and extorted from him a pardon. The countenance of CÆsar, it is said, changed, as the orator proceeded in his speech; but when he touched on the battle of Pharsalia, and described Tubero as seeking his life, amid the ranks of the army, the Dictator became so agitated, that his body trembled, and the papers which he held dropped from his hand329.
This oration is remarkable for the free spirit which it breathes, even in the face of that power to which it was addressed for mercy. But Cicero, at the same time, shows much art in not overstepping those limits, within which he knew he might speak without offence, and in seasoning his freedom with appropriate compliments to CÆsar, of which, perhaps, the most elegant is, that he forgot nothing but the injuries done to himself. This was the person whom, in the time of Pompey, he characterized as monstrum et portentum tyrannum, and whose death he soon afterwards celebrated as divinum in rempublicam beneficium!
The oration of Tubero against Ligarius, was extant in Quintilian’s time, and probably explained the circumstances which induced a man, who had fought so keenly against CÆsar at Pharsalia, to undertake the prosecution of Ligarius.
Pro Rege Dejotaro.—Dejotarus was a Tetrarch of Galatia, who obtained from Pompey the realm of Armenia, and from the Senate the title of King. In the civil war he had espoused the cause of his benefactors. CÆsar, in consequence, deprived him of Armenia, but was subsequently reconciled to him, and, while prosecuting the war against Pharnaces, visited him in his original states of Galatia. Some time after[pg 177]wards, Phidippus, the physician of the king, and his grandson Castor, accused him of an attempt to poison CÆsar, during the stay which the Dictator had made at his court. Cicero defended him in the private apartments of CÆsar, and adopted the same happy union of freedom and flattery, which he had so successfully employed in the case of Ligarius. CÆsar, however, pronounced no decision on the one side or other.
Philippica.—The remaining orations of Cicero are those directed against Antony, of whose private life and political conduct they present us with a full and glaring picture. The character of Antony, next to that of Sylla, was the most singular in the Annals of Rome, and in some of its features bore a striking resemblance to that of the fortunate Dictator. Both were possessed of uncommon military talents—both were imbued with cruelty which makes human nature shudder—both were inordinately addicted to luxury and pleasure—and both, for men of their powers of mind and habits, had apparently, at least, a strange superstitious reliance on destiny, portents, and omens. Yet there were strong shades of distinction even in those parts of their characters in which we trace the closest resemblance: The cruelty of Sylla was more deliberate and remorseless—that of Antony, more regardless and unthinking—and amid all the atrocities of the latter, there burst forth occasional gleams of generosity and feeling. But then Sylla was a man of much greater discernment and penetration—a much more profound and successful dissembler—and he was possessed of many refined and elegant accomplishments, of which the coarser Antony was destitute. Sylla gratified his voluptuousness, but Antony was ruled by it. The former indulged in pleasure when within his grasp, but ease, power, and revenge, were his great and ultimate objects: The chief aim of the latter, was the sensual pleasure to which he was subservient. Sylla would never have been the slave of Cleopatra, or the dupe of Octavius. Hence the wide difference between the destiny of the triumphant Dictator, whose chariot rolled on the wheels of Fortune to the close of his career, and the sad fate of Antony. Yet that very fate has mitigated the abhorrence of posterity, and weakness having been added to wickedness, has unaccountably palliated, in our eyes, the faults of the soft Triumvir, now more remembered as the devoted lover of Cleopatra, than as the chief promoter of the Proscriptions.
The Philippics against Antony, like those of Demosthenes, derive their chief beauty from the noble expression of just indignation, which indeed composes many of the most splendid and admired passages of ancient eloquence. They were all [pg 178]pronounced during the period which elapsed between the assassination of CÆsar, and the defeat of Antony at Modena. Soon after CÆsar’s death, Cicero, fearing danger from Antony, who held a sort of military possession of the city, resolved on a voyage to Greece. Being detained, however, by contrary winds, after he had set out, and having received favourable intelligence from his friends at Rome, he determined to return to the capital. The Senate assembled the day after his arrival, in order, at the suggestion of Antony, to consider of some new and extraordinary honours to the memory of CÆsar. To this meeting Cicero was specially summoned by Antony, but he excused himself on pretence of indisposition, and the fatigue of his journey. He appeared, however, in his place, when the Senate met on the following day, in absence of Antony, and delivered the first of the orations, afterwards termed Philippics, from the resemblance they bore to those invectives which Demosthenes poured forth against the great foe of the independence of Greece. Cicero opens his speech by explaining the motives of his recent departure from Rome—his sudden return, and his absence on the preceding day—declaring, that if present, he would have opposed the posthumous honours decreed to the usurper. His next object, after vindicating himself, being to warn the Senate of the designs of Antony, he complains that he had violated the most solemn and authentic even of CÆsar’s laws; and at the same time enforced, as ordinances, what were mere jottings, found, or pretended to have been found, among the Dictator’s Memoranda, after his death.
Antony was highly incensed at this speech, and summoned another meeting of the Senate, at which he again required the presence of Cicero. These two rivals seem to have been destined never to meet in the Senate-house. Cicero, being apprehensive of some design against his life, did not attend; so that the Oration of Antony, in his own justification, which he had carefully prepared in intervals of leisure at his villa, near Tibur, was unanswered in the Senate. The second Philippic was penned by Cicero in his closet, as a reply to this speech of Antony, in which he had been particularly charged with having been not merely accessary to the murder of CÆsar, but the chief contriver of the plot against him. Some part of Cicero’s oration was thus necessarily defensive, but the larger portion, which is accusatory, is one of the severest and most bitter invectives ever composed, the whole being expressed in terms of the most thorough contempt and strongest detestation of Antony. By laying open his whole criminal excesses from his earliest youth, he exhibits one continued scene of debauch[pg 179]ery, faction, rapine, and violence; but he dwells with peculiar horror on his offer of the diadem to CÆsar, at the festival of the Lupercalia—his drunken debauch at the once classic villa of Terentius Varro—and his purchase of the effects that belonged to the great Pompey—on which last subject he pathetically contrasts the modesty and decorum of that renowned warrior, once the Favourite of Fortune, and darling of the Roman people, with the licentiousness of the military adventurer who now rioted in the spoils of his country. In concluding, he declares, on his own part, that in his youth he had defended the republic, and, in his old age, he would not abandon its cause.—“The sword of Catiline I despised; and never shall I dread that of Antony.” This oration is adorned with all the charms of eloquence, and proves, that in the decline of life Cicero had not lost one spark of the fire and spirit which animated his earlier productions. Although not delivered in the Senate, nor intended to be published till things were actually come to an extremity, and the affairs of the republic made it necessary to render Antony’s conduct and designs manifest to the people, copies of the oration were sent to Brutus, Cassius, and other friends of the commonwealth: hence it soon got into extensive circulation, and, by exciting the vengeance of Antony, was a chief cause of the tragical death of its author.
The situation of Antony having now become precarious, from the union of Octavius with the party of the Senate, and the defection of two legions, he abruptly quitted the city, and placing himself at the head of his army, marched into Cisalpine Gaul, which, since the death of CÆsar, had been occupied by Decimus Brutus, one of the conspirators. The field being thus left clear for Cicero, and the Senate being assembled, he pronounced the third Philippic, of which the great object was to induce it to support Brutus, by placing an army at the disposal of Octavius, along with the two Consuls elect, Hirtius and Pansa. He exhorts the Senate to this measure, by enlarging on the merits of Octavius and Brutus, and concludes with proposing public thanks to these leaders, and to the legions which had deserted the standard of Antony.
From the Senate, Cicero proceeded directly to the Forum, where, in his fourth Philippic, he gave an account to the people of what had occurred, and explained to them, that Antony, though not nominally, had now been actually declared the enemy of his country. This harangue was so well received by an audience the most numerous that had ever listened to his orations, that, speaking of it afterwards, he declares he would have reaped sufficient fruit from the exertions of his [pg 180]whole life, had he died on the day it was pronounced, when the whole people, with one voice and mind, called out that he had twice saved the republic330.
Brutus being as yet unable to defend himself in the field, withdrew into Modena, where he was besieged by Antony. Intelligence of this having been brought to Rome, Cicero, in his fifth Philippic, endeavoured to persuade the Senate to proclaim Antony an enemy of his country, in opposition to Calenus, who proposed, that before proceeding to acts of hostility, an embassy should be sent for the purpose of admonishing Antony to desist from his attempt on Gaul, and submit himself to the authority of the Senate. After three days’ successive debate, Cicero’s proposal would have prevailed, had not one of the Tribunes interposed his negative, in consequence of which the measure of the embassy was resorted to. Cicero, nevertheless, before any answer could be received, persisted, in his sixth and seventh Philippics, in asserting that any accommodation with a rebel such as Antony, would be equally disgraceful and dangerous to the republic. The deputies having returned, and reported that Antony would consent to nothing which was required of him, the Senate declared war against him—employing, however, in their decree, the term tumult, instead of war or rebellion. Cicero, in his eighth Philippic, expostulated with them on their timorous and impolitic lenity of expression. In the ninth Philippic, pronounced on the following day, he called on the Senate to erect a statue to one of the deputies, Servius Sulpicius, who, while labouring under a severe distemper, had, at the risk of his life, undertaken the embassy, but had died before he could acquit himself of the commission with which he was charged. The proposal met with considerable opposition, but it was at length agreed that a brazen statue should be erected to him in the Forum, and that an inscription should be placed on the base, importing that he had died in the service of the republic.
The Philippics, hitherto mentioned, related chiefly to the affairs of Cisalpine Gaul, the scene of the contest between D. Brutus and Antony. A long period was now elapsed since the Senate had received any intelligence concerning the chiefs of the conspiracy, Marcus Brutus and Cassius, the former of whom had seized on the province of Macedonia, while the latter occupied Syria. Public despatches, however, at length arrived from M. Brutus, giving an account of his successful proceedings in Greece. The Consul Pansa having communicated the contents at a meeting of the Senate, and having [pg 181]proposed for him public thanks and honours, Calenus, a creature of Antony, objected, and moved, that as what he had done was without lawful authority, he should be required to deliver up his army to the Senate, or the proper governor of the province. Cicero, in his tenth Philippic, replied, in a transport of eloquent and patriotic indignation, to this most unjust and ruinous proposal, particularly to the assertion by which it was supported, that veterans would not submit to be commanded by Brutus. He thus succeeded in obtaining from the Senate an approbation of the conduct of Brutus, a continuance of his command, and pecuniary assistance.
About the same time accounts arrived from Asia, that Dolabella, on the part of Antony, had taken possession of Smyrna, and there put Trebonius, one of the conspirators, to death. On receiving this intelligence, a debate arose concerning the choice of a general to be employed against Dolabella, and Cicero, in his eleventh Philippic, strenuously maintained the right of Cassius, who was then in Greece, to be promoted to that command. In the twelfth and thirteenth, he again warmly and successfully opposed the sending a deputation to Antony. All further mention of pacification was terminated by the joyful tidings of the total defeat of Antony before Modena, by the army under Octavius, and the Consuls Hirtius and Pansa—the latter of whom was mortally wounded in the conflict. The intelligence excited incredible joy at Rome, which was heightened by the unfavourable reports that had previously prevailed. The Senate met to deliberate on the despatches of the Consuls communicating the event. Never was there a finer opportunity for the display of eloquence, than what was afforded to Cicero on this occasion; of which he most gloriously availed himself in the fourteenth Philippic. The excitation and tumult consequent on a great recent victory, give wing to high flights of eloquence, and also prepare the minds of the audience to follow the ascent. The success at Modena terminated a long period of anxiety. It was for the time supposed to have decided the fate of Antony and the Republic; and the orator, who thus saw all his measures justified, must have felt the exultation, confidence, and spirit, so favourable to the highest exertions of eloquence. This, with the detestable character of the conquered foe,—the wounds of Pansa, who was once suspected by the Republic, but by his faithful zeal had gradually obtained its confidence, and at length sealed his fidelity with his blood,—the rewards due to the surviving victors,—the honours to be paid to those who had fallen in defence of their country,—the thanksgivings to be rendered to the immortal gods,—all afforded topics of tri[pg 182]umph, panegyric, and pathos, which have been seldom supplied to the orator in any age or country. In extolling those who had fallen, Cicero dwells on two subjects; one appertaining to the glory of the heroes themselves, the other to the consolation of their friends and relatives. He proposes that a splendid monument should be erected, in common to all who had perished, with an inscription recording their names and services; and in recommending this tribute of public gratitude, he breaks out into a funeral panegyric, which has formed a more lasting memorial than the monument he suggested.
This was the last Philippic and last oration which Cicero delivered. The union of Antony and Octavius soon after annihilated the power of the Senate; and Cicero, like Demosthenes, fell the victim of that indignant eloquence with which he had lashed the enemies of his country:—
Besides the complete orations above mentioned, Cicero delivered many, of which only fragments remain, or which are now entirely lost. All those which he pronounced during the five years intervening between his election to the QuÆstorship and the Ædileship have perished, except that for M. Tullius, of which the exordium and narrative were brought to light at the late celebrated discovery by Mai, in the Ambrosian library at Milan. Tullius had been forcibly dispossessed (vi armata) by one of the Fabii of a farm he held in Lucania; and the whole Fabian race were prosecuted for damages, under a law of Lucullus, whereby, in consequence of depredations committed in the municipal states of Italy, every family was held responsible for the violent aggressions of any of its tribe. A large fragment of the oration for Scaurus forms by far the most valuable part of the discovery in the Ambrosian library. The oration, indeed, is not entire, but the part we have of it is tolerably well connected. The charge was one of provincial embezzlement, and in the exordium the orator announces that he was to treat, 1st, of the general nature of the accusation itself; 2d, of the character of the Sardinians; 3d, of that of Scaurus; and, lastly, of the special charge concerning the corn. Of these, the first two heads are tolerably entire; and that in which he exposes the faithless character of the Sardinians, and thus shakes the cred[pg 183]ibility of the witnesses for the prosecution is artfully managed. The other fragments discovered in the Ambrosian library consist merely of detached sentences, of which it is almost impossible to make a connected meaning. Of this description is the oration In P. Clodium; yet still, by the aid of the Commentary found along with it, we are enabled to form some notion of the tenor of the speech. The well-known story of Clodius finding access to the house of CÆsar, in female disguise, during the celebration of the mysteries of Bona Dea, gave occasion to this invective. A sort of altercation had one day passed in the Senate between Cicero and Clodius, soon after the acquittal of the latter for this offence, which probably suggested to Cicero the notion of writing a connected oration, inveighing against the vices and crimes of Clodius, particularly his profanation of the secret rites of the goddess, and the corrupt means by which he had obtained his acquittal. In one of his epistles to Atticus, Cicero gives a detailed account of this altercation, which certainly does not afford us a very dignified notion of senatorial gravity and decorum.
Of those orations of Cicero which have entirely perished, the greatest loss has been sustained by the disappearance of the defence of Cornelius, who was accused of practices against the state during his tribuneship. This speech, which was divided into two great parts, was continued for four successive days, in presence of an immense concourse of people, who testified their admiration of its bright eloquence by repeated applause332. The orator himself frequently refers to it as among the most finished of his compositions333; and the old critics cite it as an example of genuine eloquence. “Not merely,” says Quintilian, “with strong, but with shining armour did Cicero contend in the cause of Cornelius.” We have also to lament the loss of the oration for C. Piso, accused of oppression in his government—of the farewell discourse delivered to the Sicilians, (Quum QuÆstor LilybÆo discederet,) in which he gave them an account of his administration, and promised them his protection at Rome—of the invective pronounced in the Senate against Metellus, in answer to a harangue which that Tribune had delivered to the people concerning Cicero’s conduct, in putting the confederates of Catiline to death without trial; and, finally, of the celebrated speech De Proscriptorum Liberis, in which, on political grounds, he opposed, while admitting their justice, the claims of the children of those whom Sylla had proscribed and disqualified from holding [pg 184]any honours in the state, and who now applied to be relieved from their disabilities. The success which he obtained in resisting this demand, is described in strong terms by Pliny: “Te orante, proscriptorum liberos honores petere puduit334.” A speech which is now lost, and which, though afterwards reduced to writing, must have been delivered extempore, afforded another strong example of the persuasiveness of his eloquence. The appearance of the Tribune, Roscius Otho, who had set apart seats for the knights at the public spectacles, having one day occasioned a disturbance at the theatre, Cicero, on being informed of the tumult, hastened to the spot, and, calling out the people to the Temple of Bellona, he so calmed them by the magic of his eloquence, that, returning immediately to the theatre, they clapped their hands in honour of Otho, and vied with the knights in giving him demonstrations of respect335. One topic which he touched on in this oration, and the only one of which we have any hint from antiquity, was the rioters’ want of taste, in creating a tumult, while Roscius was performing on the stage336. This speech, the orations against the Agrarian law, and that De Proscriptorum Liberis, have long been cited as the strongest examples of the power of eloquence over the passions of mankind: And it is difficult to say, whether the highest praise be due to the orator, who could persuade, or to the people, who could be thus induced to relinquish the most tempting expectations of property and honours, and the full enjoyment of their favourite amusements.
In the age of that declamation which prevailed at Rome from the time of Tiberius to the fall of the empire, it was the practice of rhetoricians to declaim on similar topics with those on which Cicero had delivered, or was supposed to have delivered, harangues. It appears from Aulus Gellius337, that in the age of Marcus Aurelius doubts were entertained with regard to the authenticity of certain orations circulated as productions of Cicero. He was known to have delivered four speeches almost immediately after his recall from banishment, on subjects closely connected with his exile. The first was addressed to the Senate338, and the second to the people, a few days subsequently to his return339; the third to the college of Pontiffs, in order to obtain restitution of a piece of ground on the Palatine hill, on which his house had formerly stood, but had been demolished, and a temple erected on the spot, with a view, as he feared, to alienate it irretrievably from the proprietor, by thus consecrating [pg 185]it to religious purposes340. The fourth was pronounced in consequence of Clodius declaring that certain menacing prodigies, which had lately appeared, were indubitably occasioned by the desecration of this ground, which the Pontiffs had now discharged from religious uses. Four orations, supposed to have been delivered on those occasions, and entitled, Post Reditum in Senatu, Ad Quirites post Reditum, Pro domo sua ad Pontifices, De Haruspicum Responsis, were published in all the early editions of Cicero, without any doubts of their authenticity being hinted by the commentators, and were also referred to as genuine authorities by Middleton in his Life of Cicero. At length, about the middle of last century, the well-known dispute having arisen between Middleton and Tunstall, concerning the letters to Brutus, Markland engaged in the controversy; and his remarks on the correspondence of Cicero and Brutus were accompanied with a “Dissertation on the Four Orations ascribed to M. T. Cicero,” published in 1745, which threw great doubts on their authenticity. Middleton made no formal reply to this part of Markland’s observations; but he neither retracted his opinion nor changed a word in his subsequent edition of the Life of Cicero.
Soon afterwards, Ross, the editor of Cicero’s EpistolÆ Familiares, and subsequently Bishop of Exeter, ironically showed, in his “Dissertation, in which the defence of P. Sulla, ascribed to Cicero, is clearly proved to be spurious, after the manner of Mr Markland,” that, on the principles and line of argument adopted by his opponent, the authenticity of any one of the orations might be contested. This jeu d’esprit of Bishop Ross was seriously confuted in a “Dissertation, in which the Objections of a late Pamphlet to the Writings of the Ancients, after the manner of Mr Markland, are clearly Answered; and those Passages in Tully corrected, on which some of the Objections are founded.—1746.” This dissertation was printed by Bowyer, and he is generally believed to have been the author of it341. In Germany, J. M. Gesner, with all the weight attached to his opinion, and Thesaurus, strenuously defended these orations in two prelections, held in 1753 and 1754, and inserted in the 3d volume of the new series of the Transactions of the Royal Academy at Gottingen, under the title Cicero Restitutus, in which he refuted, one by one, all the objections of Markland.
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After this, although the Letters of Brutus were no longer considered as authentic, literary men in all countries—as De Brosses, the French Translator of Sallust, Ferguson, Saxius, in his Onomasticon, and Rhunkenius—adopted the orations as genuine. Ernesti, in his edition of Cicero, makes no mention of the existence of any doubts respecting them; and, in his edition of Fabricius342, alludes to the controversy concerning them as a foolish and insignificant dispute. A change of opinion, however, was produced by an edition of the four orations which Wolfius published at Berlin in 1801, to which he prefixed an account of the controversy, and a general view of the arguments of Markland and Gesner. The observations of each, relating to particular words and phrases, are placed below the passages as they occur, and are followed by Wolf’s own remarks, refuting, to the utmost of his power, the opinions of Gesner, and confirming those of Markland. SchÜtz, the late German editor of Cicero, has completely adopted the notions of Wolf; and by printing these four harangues, not in their order in the series, but separately, and at the end of the whole, along with the discarded correspondence between Cicero and Brutus, has thrown them without the classical pale as effectually as Lambinus excluded the once recognized orations, In pace, and Antequam iret in Exilium. In the fourth volume of his new edition of the works of Cicero now proceeding in Germany, Beck has followed the opinion of Wolf, after an impartial examination of the different arguments in his notes, and in an excursus criticus devoted to this subject.
Markland and Wolf believe, that these harangues were written as a rhetorical exercise, by some declaimer, who lived not long after Cicero, probably in the time of Tiberius, and who had before his eyes some orations of Cicero now lost, (perhaps those which he delivered on his return from exile,) from which the rhetorician occasionally borrowed ideas or phrases, not altogether unworthy of the orator’s genius and eloquence. But, though they may contain some insulated Ciceronian expressions, it is utterly denied that these orations can be the continued composition of Cicero. The arguments against their authenticity are deduced, first from their matter; and, secondly, from their style. These critics dwell much on the numerous thoughts and ideas inconsistent with the known sentiments, or unsuitable to the disposition of the author,—on the relation of events, told in a different manner from that in which they have been recorded by him in his undoubted works,—and, finally, on the gross ignorance shown of the laws, [pg 187]institutions, and customs of Rome, and even of the events passing at the time. Thus it is said, in one of these four orations, that, on some political occasion, all the senators changed their garb, as also the PrÆtors and Ædiles, which proves, that the author was ignorant that all Ædiles and PrÆtors were necessarily senators, since, otherwise, the special mention of them would be superfluous and absurd. What is still stronger, the author, in the oration Ad Quirites post reditum, refers to the speech in behalf of Gabinius, which was not pronounced till 699, three years subsequently to CÆsar’s recall; whereas the real oration, Ad Quirites, was delivered on the second or third day after his return. With regard to the style of these harangues, it is argued, that the expressions are affected, the sentences perplexed, and the transitions abrupt; and that their languor and want of animation render them wholly unworthy of Cicero. Markland particularly points out the absurd repetition of what the declaimer had considered Ciceronian phrases,—as, “Aras, focos, penates—Deos immortales—Res incredibiles—Esse videatur.” Of the orations individually he remarks, and justly, that the one delivered by Cicero in the Senate immediately after his return, was known to have been prepared with the greatest possible care, and to have been committed to writing before it was pronounced; while the fictitious harangue which we now have in its place, is at all events, quite unlike anything that Cicero would have produced with elaborate study. The second is a sort of compendium of the first, and the same ideas and expressions are slavishly repeated; which implies a barrenness of invention, and sterility of language, that cannot be supposed in Cicero. Of the third oration he speaks, in his letters to Atticus, as one of his happiest efforts343; but nothing can be more wretched than that which we now have in its stead,—the first twelve chapters, indeed, being totally irrelevant to the question at issue.
The oration for Marcellus, the genuineness of which has also been called in question, is somewhat in a different style from the other harangues of Cicero; for, though entitled Pro Marcello, it is not so much a speech in his defence, as a panegyric on CÆsar, for having granted the pardon of Marcellus at the intercession of the Senate. Marcellus had been one of the most violent opponents of the views of CÆsar. He had recommended in the Senate, that he should be deprived of the province of Gaul: he had insulted the magistrates of one of CÆsar’s new-founded colonies; and had been present at Pharsalia on the side of Pompey. After that battle he retired to Mitylene, where he was obliged to remain, being one of the [pg 188]few adversaries to whom the conqueror refused to be reconciled. The Senate, however, one day when CÆsar was present, with an united voice, and in an attitude of supplication, having implored his clemency in favour of Marcellus, and their request having been granted, Cicero, though he had resolved to preserve eternal silence, being moved by the occasion, delivered one of the most strained encomiums that has ever been pronounced.
In the first part he extols the military exploits of CÆsar; but shows, that his clemency to Marcellus was more glorious than any of his other actions, as it depended entirely on himself, while fortune and his army had their share in the events of the war. In the second part he endeavours to dispel the suspicions which it appears CÆsar still entertained of the hostile intentions of Marcellus, and takes occasion to assure the Dictator that his life was most dear and valuable to all, since on it depended the tranquillity of the state, and the hopes of the restoration of the commonwealth.
This oration, which Middleton declares to be superior to anything extant of the kind in all antiquity, and which a celebrated French critic terms, “Le discours le plus noble, le plus pathetique, et en meme tems le plus patriotique, que la reconnaissance, l’amitiÉ, et la vertu, puissent inspirer À une ame elevÉe et sensible,” continued to be not only of undisputed authenticity, but one of Cicero’s most admired productions, till Wolf, in the preface and notes to a new edition of it, printed in 1802, attempted to show, that it was a spurious production, totally unworthy of the orator whose name it bore, and that it was written by some declaimer, soon after the Augustan age, not as an imposition upon the public, but as an exercise,—according to the practice of the rhetoricians, who were wont to choose, as a theme, some subject on which Cicero had spoken. In his letters to Atticus, Cicero says, that he had returned thanks to CÆsar pluribus verbis. This Middleton translates a long speech; but Wolf alleges it can only mean a few words, and never can be interpreted to denote a full oration, such as that which we now possess for Marcellus. That Cicero did not deliver a long or formal speech, is evident, he contends, from the testimony of Plutarch, who mentions, in his life of Cicero, that, a short time afterwards, when the orator was about to plead for Ligarius, CÆsar asked, how it happened that he had not heard Cicero speak for so long a period,—which would have been absurd if he had heard him, a few months before, pleading for Marcellus. Being an extemporary effusion, called forth by an unforeseen occasion, it could not (he continues to urge) have been pre[pg 189]pared and written beforehand; nor is it at all probable, that, like many other orations of Cicero, it was revised and made public after being delivered. The causes which induced the Roman orators to write out their speeches at leisure, were the magnitude and public importance of the subject, or the wishes of those in whose defence they were made, and who were anxious to possess a sort of record of their vindication. But none of these motives existed in the present case. The matter was of no importance or difficulty; and we know that Marcellus, who was a stern republican, was not at all gratified by the intervention of the senators, or conciliated by the clemency of CÆsar. As to internal evidence, deduced from the oration, Wolf admits, that there are interspersed in it some Ciceronian sentences; and how otherwise could the learned have been so egregiously deceived? but the resemblance is more in the varnish of the style than in the substance. We have the words rather than the thoughts of Cicero; and the rounding of his periods, without their energy and argumentative connection. He adduces, also, many instances of phrases unusual among the classics, and of conceits which betray the rhetorician or sophist. His extolling the act of that day on which CÆsar pardoned Marcellus as higher than all his warlike exploits, would but have raised a smile on the lips of the Dictator; and the slighting way in which the cause of the republic and Pompey are mentioned, is totally different from the manner in which Cicero expressed himself on these delicate topics, even in presence of CÆsar, in his authentic orations for Deiotarus and Ligarius.
It is evident, at first view, that many of Wolf’s observations are hypercritical; and that in his argument concerning the encomiums on CÆsar, and the overrated importance of his clemency to Marcellus, he does not make sufficient allowance for Cicero’s habit of exaggeration, and the momentary enthusiasm produced by one of those transactions,
Accordingly, in the year following that of Wolf’s edition, Olaus Wormius published, at Copenhagen, a vindication of the authenticity of this speech. To the argument adduced from Plutarch, he answers, that some months had elapsed between the orations for Marcellus and Ligarius, which might readily be called a long period, by one accustomed to hear Cicero harangue almost daily in the Senate or Forum. Besides, the phrase of Plutarch, ?e???t?? may mean pleading [pg 190]for some one, which was not the nature of the speech for Marcellus. As to the motive which led to write and publish the oration, Cicero, above all men, was delighted with his own productions, and nothing can be more probable than that he should have wished to preserve the remembrance of that memorable day, which he calls in his letters, diem illam pulcherrimam. It was natural to send the oration to Marcellus, in order to hasten his return to Rome, and it must have been an acceptable thing to CÆsar, thus to record his fearlessness and benignity. With regard to the manner in which Pompey and the republican party are talked of, it is evident, from his letters, that Cicero was disgusted with the political measures of that faction, that he wholly disapproved of their plan of the campaign, and foreseeing a renewal of Sylla’s proscriptions in the triumph of the aristocratic power, he did not exaggerate in so highly extolling the humanity of CÆsar.
The arguments of Wormius were expanded and illustrated by Weiske, In Commentario perpetuo et pleno in Orat. Ciceronis pro Marcello, published at Leipsic, in 1805344, while, on the other hand, Spalding, in his De Oratione pro Marcello Disputatio, published in 1808, supported the opinions of Wolfius.
The controversy was in this state, and was considered as involved in much doubt and obscurity, when Aug. Jacob, in an academical exercise, printed at Halle and Berlin, in 1813, and entitled De Oratione quÆ inscribitur pro Marcello, Ciceroni vel abjudicata vel adjudicata, QuÆstio novaque conjectura, adopted a middle course. Finding such dissimilarity in the different passages of the oration, some being most powerful, elegant, and beautiful, while others were totally futile and frigid, he was led to believe that part had actually flowed from the lips of Cicero, but that much had been subsequently interpolated by some rhetorician or declaimer. He divides his whole treatise into four heads, which comprehend all the various points agitated on the subject of this oration: 1. The testimony of different authors tending to prove the authenticity or spuriousness of the production: 2. The history of the period, with which every genuine oration must necessarily concur: 3. The genius and manner of Cicero, from which no [pg 191]one of his orations could be entirely remote: 4. The style and phraseology, which must be correct and classical. In the prosecution of his inquiry in these different aspects of the subject, the author successively reviews the opinions and judgments of his predecessors, sometimes agreeing with Wolf and his followers, at other times, and more frequently, with their opposers. He thinks that the much-contested phrase pluribus verbis, may mean a long oration, as Cicero elsewhere talks of having pleaded for Cluentius, pluribus verbis, though the speech in his defence consists of 58 chapters. Besides, Cicero only says that he had returned thanks to CÆsar, pluribus verbis. Now, the whole speech does not consist of thanks to CÆsar, being partly occupied in removing the suspicions which he entertained of Marcellus. With regard to encomiums on CÆsar, which Spalding has characterized as abject and fulsome, and totally different from the delicate compliments addressed to him in the oration for Deiotarus or Ligarius, Jacob reminds his readers that the harangues could have no resemblance to each other, the latter being pleadings in behalf of the accused, and the former a professed panegyric. Nor can any one esteem the eulogies on CÆsar too extravagant for Cicero, when he remembers the terms in which the orator had formerly spoken of Roscius, Archias, and Pompey.
SchÜtz, the late German editor of Cicero, has subscribed to the opinion of Wolf, and has published the speech for Marcellus, along with the other four doubtful harangues at the end of the genuine orations.
But supposing that these five contested speeches are spurious, a sufficient number of genuine orations remain to enable us to distinguish the character of Cicero’s eloquence. Ambitious from his youth of the honours attending a fine speaker, he early travelled to Greece, where he accumulated all the stores of knowledge and rules of art, which could be gathered from the rhetoricians, historians, and philosophers, of that intellectual land. While he thus extracted and imbibed the copiousness of Plato, the sweetness of Isocrates, and force of Demosthenes, he, at the same time, imbued his mind with a thorough knowledge of the laws, constitution, antiquities, and literature, of his native country. Nor did he less study the peculiar temper, the jealousies, and enmities of the Roman people, both as a nation and as individuals, without a knowledge of which, his eloquence would have been unavailing in the Forum or Comitia, where so much was decided by favouritism and cabal. By these means he ruled the passions and deliberations of his countrymen with almost resistless sway—[pg 192]upheld the power of the Senate—stayed the progress of tyranny—drove the audacious Catiline from Rome—directed the feelings of the state in favour of Pompey—shook the strong mind of CÆsar—and kindled a flame by which Antony had been nearly consumed. But the main secret of his success lay in the warmth and intensity of his feelings. His heart swelled with patriotism, and was dilated with the most magnificent conceptions of the glory of Rome. Though it throbbed with the fondest anticipations of posthumous fame, the momentary acclaim of a multitude was a chord to which it daily and most readily vibrated; while, at the same time, his high conceptions of oratory counteracted the bad effect which this exuberant vanity might otherwise have produced. Thus, when two speakers were employed in the same cause, though Cicero was the junior, to him was assigned the peroration, in which he surpassed all his contemporaries; and he obtained this pre-eminence not so much on account of his superior genius or knowledge of law, as because he was more moved and affected himself, without which he would never have moved or affected his judges.
With such natural endowments, and such acquirements, he early took his place as the refuge and support of his fellow-citizens in the Forum, as the arbiter of the deliberations of the Senate, and as the most powerful defender from the Rostrum of the political interests of the commonwealth.
Cicero and Demosthenes have been frequently compared. Suidas says, that one Cicilus, a native of Sicily, whose works are now lost, was the first to institute the parallel, and they have been subsequently compared, in due form, by Plutarch and Quintilian, and, (as far as relates to sublimity,) by Longinus, among the ancients; and among the moderns, by Herder, in his Philosophical History of Man, and by Jenisch, in a German work devoted to the subject345. Rapin, and all other French critics, with the exception of Fenelon, give the preference to Cicero.
From what has already been said, it is sufficiently evident that Cicero had not to contend with any of those obstructions from nature which Demosthenes encountered; and his youth, in place of being spent like that of the Greek orator, in remedying and supplying defects, was unceasingly employed in pursuit of the improvements auxiliary to his art. But if Cicero derived superior advantages from nature, Demosthenes possessed other advantages, in the more advanced progress of his country in refinement and letters, at the era in which he ap[pg 193]peared. Greek literature had reached its full perfection before the birth of Demosthenes, but Cicero was, in a great measure, himself the creator of the literature of Rome, and no prose writer of eminence had yet existed, after whom he could model his phraseology. In other external circumstances, they were placed in situations not very dissimilar. But Cicero had a wider, and perhaps more beautiful field, in which to expatiate and to exercise his powers. The wide extent of the Roman empire, the striking vices and virtues of its citizens, the memorable events of its history, supplied an endless variety of great and interesting topics; whereas many of the orations of Demosthenes are on subjects unworthy of his talents. Their genius and capacity were in many respects the same. Their eloquence was of that great and comprehensive kind, which dignifies every subject, and gives it all the force and beauty it is capable of receiving. “I judge Cicero and Demosthenes,” says Quintilian, “to be alike in most of the great qualities they possessed. They were alike in design, in the manner of dividing their subject, and preparing the minds of the audience; in short, in every thing belonging to invention.” But while there was much similarity in their talents, there was a wide difference in their tempers and characters. Demosthenes was of an austere, harsh, melancholy disposition, obstinate and resolute in all his undertakings: Cicero was of a lively, flexible, and wavering humour. This seems the chief cause of the difference in their eloquence; but the contrasts are too obvious, and have been too often exhibited to be here displayed. No person wishes to be told, for the twentieth time, that Demosthenes assumes a higher tone, and is more serious, vehement, and impressive, than Cicero; while Cicero is more insinuating, graceful, and affecting: That the Greek orator struck on the soul by the force of his argument, and ardour of his expressions; while the Roman made his way to the heart, alternately moving and allaying the passions of his hearers, by all the arts of rhetoric, and by conforming to their opinions and prejudices.
Cicero was not only a great orator, but has also left the fullest instructions and the most complete historical details on the art which he so gloriously practised. His precepts are contained in the dialogue De Oratore and the Orator; while the history of Roman eloquence is comprehended in the dialogue entitled, Brutus, sive De Claris Oratoribus.
In his youth, Cicero had written and published some undigested observations on the subject of eloquence; but consi[pg 194]dering these as unworthy of the character and experience he afterwards acquired, he applied himself to write a treatise on the art which might be more commensurate to his matured talents. He himself mentions several Sicilians and Greeks, who had written on oratory346. But the models he chiefly followed, were Aristotle, in his books of rhetoric347; and Isocrates, the whole of whose theories and precepts he has comprehended in his rhetorical works. He has thrown his ideas on the subject into the form of dialogue or conference, a species of composition, which, however much employed by the Greeks, had not hitherto been attempted at Rome. This mode of writing presented many advantages: By adopting it he avoided that dogmatical air, which a treatise from him on such a subject would necessarily have worn, and was enabled to instruct without dictating rules. Dialogue, too, relieved monotony of style, by affording opportunity of varying it according to the characters of the different speakers—it tempered the austerity of precept by the cheerfulness of conversation, and developed each opinion with the vivacity and fulness naturally employed in the oral discussion of a favourite topic. Add to this, the facility which it presented of paying an acceptable compliment to the friends who were introduced as interlocutors, and its susceptibility of agreeable description of the scenes in which the persons of the dialogue were placed—a species of embellishment, for which ample scope was afforded by the numerous villas of Cicero, situated in the most beautiful spots of Italy, and in every variety of landscape, from the Alban heights to the shady banks of the Liris, or glittering shore of BaiÆ. As a method of communicating knowledge, however, (except in discussions which are extremely simple, and susceptible of much delineation of character,) the mode of dialogue is, in many respects, extremely inconvenient. “By the interruptions which are given,” says the author of the life of Tasso, in his remarks on the dialogues of that poet,—“By the interruptions which are given, if a dialogue be at all dramatic—by the preparations and transitions, order and precision must, in a great degree, be sacrificed. In reasoning, as much brevity must be used as is consistent with perspicuity; but in dialogue, so much verbiage must be employed, that the scope of the argument is generally lost. The replies, too, to the objections of the opponent, seem rather arguments ad hominem, than possessed of the value of abstract truth; so that the reader is perplexed and bewildered, and concludes the inquiry, beholding one of the characters puzzled, indeed, and perhaps subdued, but not [pg 195]at all satisfied that the battle might not have been better fought, and more victorious arguments adduced.”
The dialogue De Oratore was written in the year 698, when Cicero, disgusted with the political dissensions of the capital, had retired, during part of the summer, to the country: But, according to the supposition of the piece, the dialogue occurred in 662. The author addresses it to his brother in a dedication, strongly expressive of his fondness for study; and, after some general observations on the difficulty of the oratoric art, and the numerous accomplishments requisite to form a complete orator, he introduces his dialogue, or rather the three dialogues, of which the performance consists. Dialogue writing may be executed either as direct conversation, in which none but the speakers appear, and where, as in the scenes of a play, no information is afforded except from what the persons of the drama say to each other; or as the recital of the conversation, where the author himself appears, and after a preliminary detail concerning the persons of the dialogue, and the circumstances of time and place in which it was held, proceeds to give an account of what passed in the discourse at which he had himself been present, or the import of which was communicated to him by some one who had attended and borne his part in the conference. It is this latter method that has been followed by Cicero, in his dialogues De Oratore. He mentions in his own person, that during the celebration of certain festivals at Rome, the orator Crassus retired to his villa at Tusculum, one of the most delightful retreats in Italy, whither he was accompanied by Antony, his most intimate friend in private life, but most formidable rival in the Forum; and by his father-in-law, ScÆvola, who was the greatest jurisconsult of his age, and whose house in the city was resorted to as an oracle, by men of the highest rank and dignity. Crassus was also attended by Cotta and Sulpicius, at that time the two most promising orators of Rome, the former of whom afterwards related to Cicero (for the author is not supposed to be personally present) the conversation which passed among these distinguished men, as they reclined on the benches under a planetree, that grew on one of the walks surrounding the villa. It is not improbable, that some such conversation may have been actually held, and that Cicero, notwithstanding his age, and the authority derived from his rhetorical reputation, may have chosen to avail himself of the circumstance, in order to shelter his opinions under those of two ancient masters, who, previously to his own time, were regarded as the chief organs of Roman eloquence.
Crassus, in order to dissipate the gloom which had been oc[pg 196]casioned by a serious and even melancholy conversation, on the situation of public affairs, turned the discourse on oratory. The sentiments which he expresses on this subject are supposed to be those which Cicero himself entertained. In order to excite the two young men, Cotta and Sulpicius, to prosecute with ardour the career they had so successfully commenced, he first enlarges on the utility and excellence of oratory; and then, proceeding to the object which he had principally in view, he contends that an almost universal knowledge is essentially requisite to perfection in this noble art. He afterwards enumerates those branches of knowledge which the orator should acquire, and the purposes to which he should apply them: he inculcates the necessity of an acquaintance with the antiquities, manners, and constitution of the republic—the constant exercise of written composition—the study of gesture at the theatre—the translation of the Greek orators—reading and commenting on the philosophers, reading and criticizing the poets. The question hence arises, whether a knowledge of the civil law be serviceable to the orator? Crassus attempts to prove its utility from various examples of cases, where its principles required to be elucidated; as also from the intrinsic nobleness of the study itself, and the superior excellence of the Roman law to all other systems of jurisprudence. Antony, who was a mere practical pleader, considered philosophy and civil law as useless to the orator, being foreign to the real business of life. He conceived that eloquence might subsist without them, and that with regard to the other accomplishments enumerated by Crassus, they were totally distinct from the proper office and duty of a public speaker. It is accordingly agreed, that on the following day Antony should state his notions of the acquirements appropriate to an orator. Previous to the commencement of the second conversation, the party is joined by Catulus and Julius CÆsar, (grand-uncle to the Dictator,) two of the most eminent orators of the time, the former being distinguished by his elegance and purity of diction, the latter by his turn for pleasantry. Having met ScÆvola, on his way from Tusculum to the villa of LÆlius, and having heard from him of the interesting conversation which had been held, the remainder of which had been deferred till the morrow, they came over from a neighbouring villa to partake of the instruction and entertainment. In their presence, and in that of Crassus, Antony maintains his favourite system, that eloquence is not an art, because it depends not on knowledge. Imitation of good models, practice, and minute attention to each particular case, which should be scrupulously examined in all its bearings, are laid down by him as the foun[pg 197]dations of forensic eloquence. The great objects of an orator being, in the first place, to recommend himself to his clients, and then to prepossess the audience and judges in their favour, Antony enlarges on the practice of the bar, in conciliating, informing, moving, and undeceiving those on whom the decision of causes depends; all which is copiously illustrated by examples drawn from particular questions, which had occurred at Rome in cases of proof, strict law, or equity. The chief weight and importance is attributed to moving the springs of the passions. Among the methods of conciliation and prepossession, humour and drollery are particularly mentioned. CÆsar being the oratorical wit of the party, is requested to give some examples of forensic jests. Those he affords are for the most part wretched quibbles, or personal reflections on the opposite parties, and their witnesses. The length of the dissertation, however, on this topic, shows the important share it was considered as occupying among the qualifications of the ancient orator.
Antony having thus explained the mechanical part of the orator’s duty, it is agreed, that in the afternoon Crassus should enter on the embellishments of rhetoric. In the execution of the task assigned him, he treats of all that relates to what may be called the ornamental part of oratory—pronunciation, elocution, harmony of periods, metaphors, sentiments, action, (which he terms the predominant power in eloquence,) expression of countenance, modulation of voice, and all those properties which impart a finished grace and dignity to a public discourse.
Cicero himself highly approved of this treatise on Oratory, and his friends regarded it as one of his best productions. The style of the dialogue is copious, without being redundant, as is sometimes the case in the orations. It is admirable for the diversity of character in the speakers, the general conduct of the piece, and the variety of matter it contains. It comprehends, I believe, everything valuable in the Greek works on rhetoric, and also many excellent observations, suggested by the author’s long experience, acquired in the numerous causes, both public and private, which he conducted in the Forum, and the important discussions in which he swayed the counsels of the Senate. As a composition, however, I cannot consider the dialogue De Oratore altogether faultless. It is too little dramatic for a dialogue, and occasionally it expands into continued dissertation; while, at the same time, by adopting the form of dialogue, a rambling and desultory effect is produced in the discussion of a subject, where, of all others, method and close connection were most desirable. There is also [pg 198]frequently an assumed liveliness of manner, which seems forced and affected in these grave and consular orators.
The dialogue entitled Brutus, sive De Claris Oratoribus, was written, and is also feigned to have taken place, after CÆsar had attained to sovereign power, though he was still engaged in the war against Scipio in Africa. The conference is supposed to be held among Cicero, Atticus, and Brutus, (from whom it has received its name,) near a statue of Plato, which stood in the pleasure-grounds of Cicero’s mansion, at Rome.
Brutus having experienced the clemency of the conqueror, whom he afterwards sacrificed, left Italy, in order to amuse himself with an agreeable tour through the cities of Greece and Asia. In a few months he returned to Rome, resigned himself to the calm studies of history and rhetoric, and passed many of his leisure hours in the society of Cicero and Atticus. The first part of the dialogue, among these three friends, contains a few slight, but masterly sketches, of the most celebrated speakers who had flourished in Greece; but these are not so much mentioned with an historical design, as to support by examples the author’s favourite proposition, that perfection in oratory requires proficiency in all the arts. The dialogue is chiefly occupied with details concerning Roman orators, from the earliest ages to Cicero’s own time. He first mentions such speakers as Appius Claudius and Fabricius, of whom he knew nothing certain, whose harangues had never been committed to writing, or were no longer extant, and concerning whose powers of eloquence he could only derive conjectures, from the effects which they produced on the people and Senate, as recorded in the ancient annals. The second class of orators are those, like Cato the Censor, and the Gracchi, whose speeches still survived, or of whom he could speak traditionally, from the report of persons still living who had heard them. A great deal of what is said concerning this set of orators, rests on the authority of Hortensius, from whom Cicero derived his information348. The third class are the deceased contemporaries of the author, whom he had himself seen and heard; and he only departs from his rule of mentioning no living orator at the special request of Brutus, who expresses an anxiety to learn his opinion of the merits of Marcellus and Julius CÆsar. Towards the conclusion, he gives some account of his own rise and progress, of the education he had received, and the various methods which he had practised in order to reach those heights of eloquence he had attained.
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This work is certainly of the greatest service to the history of Roman eloquence; and it likewise throws considerable light on the civil transactions of the republic, as the author generally touches on the principal incidents in the lives of those eminent orators whom he mentions. It also gives additional weight and authority to the oratorical precepts contained in his other works, since it shows, that they were founded, not on any speculative theories, but on a minute observation of the actual faults and excellencies of the most renowned speakers of his age. Yet, with all these advantages, it is not so entertaining as might be expected. The author mentions too many orators, and says too little of each, which gives his treatise the appearance rather of a dry catalogue, than of a literary essay, or agreeable dialogue. He acknowledges, indeed, in the course of it, that he had inserted in his list of orators many who possessed little claim to that appellation, since he designed to give an account of all the Romans, without exception, who had made it their study to excel in the arts of eloquence.
The Orator, addressed to Brutus, and written at his solicitation, was intended to complete the subjects examined in the dialogues, De Oratore, and De Claris Oratoribus. It contains the description of what Cicero conceived necessary to form a perfect orator,—a character which, indeed, nowhere existed, but of which he had formed the idea in his own imagination. He admits, that Attic eloquence approached the nearest to perfection; he pauses, however, to correct a prevailing error, that the only genuine Atticism is a correct, plain, and slender discourse, distinguished by purity of style, and delicacy of taste, but void of all ornaments and redundance. In the time of Cicero, there was a class of orators, including several men of parts and learning, and of the first quality, who, while they acknowledged the superiority of his genius, yet censured his diction as not truely Attic, some calling it loose and languid, others tumid and exuberant. These speakers affected a minute and fastidious correctness, pointed sentences, short and concise periods, without a syllable to spare in them—as if the perfection of oratory consisted in frugality of words, and the crowding of sentiments into the narrowest possible compass. The chief patrons of this taste were Brutus and Licinius Calvus. Cicero, while he admitted that correctness was essential to eloquence, contended, that a nervous, copious, animated, and even ornate style, may be truely Attic; since, otherwise, Lysias would be the only Attic orator, to the exclusion of Isocrates, and even Demosthenes himself. He accordingly opposed the system of these ultra-[pg 200]Attic orators, whom he represents as often deserted in the midst of their harangues; for although their style of rhetoric might please the ear of a critic, it was not of that sublime, pathetic, or sonorous species, of which the end was not only to instruct, but to move an audience,—whose excitement and admiration form the true criterions of eloquence.
The remainder of the treatise is occupied with the three things to be attended to by an orator,—what he is to say, in what order his topics are to be arranged, and how they are to be expressed. In discussing the last point, the author enters very fully into the collocation of words, and that measured cadence, which, to a certain extent, prevails even in prose;—a subject on which Brutus wished particularly to be instructed, and which he accordingly treats in detail.
This tract is rather confusedly arranged; and the dissertation on prosaic harmony, though curious, appears to us somewhat too minute in its object for the attention of an orator. Cicero, however, set a high value on this production; and, in a letter to Lepta, he declares, that whatever judgment he possessed on the subject of oratory, he had thrown it all into that work, and was ready to stake his reputation on its merits349.
The Topica may also be considered as another work on the subject of rhetoric. Aristotle, as is well known, wrote a book with this title. The lawyer, Caius Trebatius, a friend of Cicero, being curious to know the contents and import of the Greek work, which he had accidentally seen in Cicero’s Tusculan library, but being deterred from its study by the obscurity of the writer, (though it certainly is not one of the most difficult of Aristotle’s productions,) requested Cicero to draw up this extract, or commentary, in order to explain the various topics, or common-places, which are the foundation of rhetorical argument. Of this request Cicero was some time afterwards reminded by the view of Velia, (the marine villa of Trebatius,) during a coasting voyage which he undertook, with the intention of retiring to Greece, in consequence of the troubles which followed the death of CÆsar. Though he had neither Aristotle nor any other book at hand to assist him, he drew it up from memory as he sailed along, and finished it before he arrived at Rhegium, whence he sent it to Trebatius350.
This treatise shows, that Cicero had most diligently studied Aristotle’s Topics. It is not, however, a translation, but an extract or explanation of that work; and, as it was addressed to a lawyer, he has taken his examples chiefly from the civil law of the Romans, which he conceived Trebatius would un[pg 201]derstand better than illustrations drawn, like those of Aristotle, from the philosophy of the Greeks.
It is impossible sufficiently to admire Cicero’s industry and love of letters, which neither the inconveniences of a sea voyage, which he always disliked, nor the harassing thoughts of leaving Italy at such a conjuncture, could divert from the calm and regular pursuit of his favourite studies.
The work De Partitione Rhetorica, is written in the form of a dialogue between Cicero and his son; the former replying to the questions of the latter concerning the principles and doctrine of eloquence. The tract now entitled De Optimo genere Oratorum, was originally intended as a preface to a translation which Cicero had made from the orations of Æschines and Demosthenes in the case of Ctesipho, in which an absurd and trifling matter of ceremony has become the basis of an immortal controversy. In this preface he reverts to the topic on which he had touched in the Orator—the mistake which prevailed in Rome, that Attic eloquence was limited to that accurate, dry, and subtle manner of expression, adopted in the orations of Lysias. It was to correct this error, that Cicero undertook a free translation of the two master-pieces of Athenian eloquence; the one being an example of vehement and energetic, the other of pathetic and ornamental oratory. It is probable that Cicero was prompted to these repeated inquiries concerning the genuine character of Attic eloquence, from the reproach frequently cast on his own discourses by Brutus, Calvus, and other sterile, but, as they supposed themselves, truely Attic orators, that his harangues were not in the Greek, but rather in the Asiatic taste,—that is, nerveless, florid, and redundant.
It appears, that in Rome, as well as in Greece, oratory was generally considered as divided into three different styles—the Attic, Asiatic, and Rhodian. Quintilian, at least, so classes the various sorts of oratory in a passage, in which he also shortly characterizes them by those attributes from which they were chiefly distinguishable. “Mihi autem,” says he, “orationis differentiam fecisse et dicentium et audientium naturÆ videntur, quod Attici limati quidem et emuncti nihil inane aut redundans ferebant. Asiana gens, tumidior alioquin et jactantior, vaniore etiam dicendi gloria inflata est. Tertium mox qui hÆc dividebant adjecerunt genus Rhodium, quod velut medium esse, atque ex utroque mixtum volunt351.” Brutus and Licinius Calvus, as we have seen, affected the slender, polished, and somewhat barren conciseness of Attic eloquence. [pg 202]The speeches of Hortensius, and a few of Cicero’s earlier harangues, as that for Sextus Roscius, afforded examples of the copious, florid, and sometimes tumid style of Asiatic oratory. The latter orations of Cicero, refined by his study and experience, were, I presume, nearly in the Rhodian taste. That celebrated school of eloquence had been founded by Æschines, the rival of Demosthenes, when, being banished from his native city by the influence of his competitor, he had retired to the island of Rhodes. Inferior to Demosthenes in power of argument and force of expression, he surpassed him in copiousness and ornament. The school which he founded, and which subsisted for centuries after his death, admitted not the luxuries of Asiatic diction; and although the most ornamental of Greece, continued ever true to the principles of its great Athenian master. A chief part of the two years during which Cicero travelled in Greece and Asia was spent at Rhodes, and his principal teacher of eloquence at Rome was Molo the Rhodian, from whom he likewise afterwards received lessons at Rhodes. The great difficulty which that rhetorician encountered in the instruction of his promising disciple, was, as Cicero himself informs us, the effort of containing within its due and proper channel the overflowings of a youthful imagination352. Cicero’s natural fecundity, and the bent of his own inclination, preserved him from the risk of dwindling into ultra-Attic slenderness; but it is not improbable, that from the example of Hortensius and his own copiousness, he might have swelled out to Asiatic pomp, had not his exuberance been early reduced by the seasonable and salutary discipline of the Rhodian.
Cicero, in his youth, also wrote the Rhetorica, seu de Inventione Rhetorica, of which there are still extant two books, treating of the part of rhetoric that relates to invention. This is the work mentioned by Cicero, in the commencement of the treatise De Oratore, as having been published by him in his youth. It is generally believed to have been written in 666, when Cicero was only twenty years of age, and to have originally contained four books. SchÜtz, however, the German editor of Cicero, is of opinion, that he never wrote, or at least, never published, more than the two books we still possess.
A number of sentences in these two books of the Rhetorica, seu de Inventione, coincide with passages in the Rhetoricum ad Herennium, which is usually published along with the works of Cicero, but is not of his composition. Purgold thinks [pg 203]that the Rhetor. ad Herennium was published first, and that Cicero copied from it those corresponding passages353. It appears, however, a little singular, that Cicero should have borrowed so largely, and without acknowledgment, from a recent publication of one of his contemporaries. To account for this difficulty some critics have supposed, that the anonymous author of the Rhetor. ad Herennium was a rhetorician, whose lectures Cicero had attended, and had inserted in his own work notes taken by him from these prelections, before they were edited by their author354. Some, again, have imagined, that Cicero and the anonymous author were fellow-students under the same rhetorician, and that both had thus adopted his ideas and expressions; while others believe, that both copied from a common Greek original. But then, in opposition to this last theory, it has been remarked, that the Latin words employed by both are frequently the same; and there are the same references to the history of Rome, and of its ancient native poets, with which no Greek writer can be supposed to have had much acquaintance.
Who the anonymous author of the Rhetor. ad Herennium actually was, has been the subject of much learned controversy, and the point remains still undetermined. Priscian repeatedly cites it as the work of Cicero; whence it was believed to be the production of Cicero by Laurentius Valla, George of Trebizond, Politian, and other great restorers of learning in the fifteenth century; and this opinion was from time to time, though feebly, revived by less considerable writers in succeeding periods. It seems now, however, entirely abandoned; but, while all critics and commentators agree in abjudicating the work from Cicero, they differ widely as to the person to whom the production should be assigned. Aldus Manutius, Sigonius, Muretus, and Riccobonus, were of opinion, that it was written by Q. Cornificius the elder, who was CÆsar’s QuÆstor during the civil war, and subsequently his lieutenant in Africa, of which province, after the Dictator’s death, he kept possession for the republican party, till he was slain in an engagement with one of the generals of Octavius. The judgment of these scholars is chiefly founded on some passages in Quintilian, who attributes to Cornificius several critical and philological definitions which coincide with those introduced in the Rhetorica ad Herennium. Gerard Vossius, however, has adopted an opinion, that if at all written by a [pg 204]person of that name, it must have been by the younger Cornificius355, who was born in 662, and, having followed the party of Octavius, was appointed Consul by favour of the Triumvirate in 718. Raphael Regius also seems inclined to attribute the work to Cornificius the son356. But if the style be considered too remote from that of the age of Cicero, to be ascribed to any of his contemporaries, he conceives it may be plausibly conjectured to have been the production of Timolaus, one of the thirty tyrants in the reign of Gallienus. Timolaus had a brother called Herenianus, to whom his work may have been dedicated, and he thinks that Timolaus ad Herenianum may have been corrupted into Tullius ad Herennium. J. C. Scaliger attributes the work to Gallio, a rhetorician in the time of Nero357—an opinion which obtained currency in consequence of the discovery of a MS. copy of the Rhetorica ad Herennium, with the name of Gallio prefixed to it358.
Sufficient scope being thus left for new conjectures, SchÜtz, the German editor of Cicero, has formed a new hypothesis on the subject. Cicero’s tract De Inventione having been written in his early youth, the period of its composition may be placed about 672. From various circumstances, which he discusses at great length, SchÜtz concludes that the Rhetorica ad Herennium was the work which was first written, and consequently previous to 672. Farther, the Rhetorica ad Herennium must have been written subsequently to 665, as it mentions the death of Sulpicius, which happened in that year. The time thus limited corresponds very exactly with the age of M. Ant. Gnipho, who was born in the year 640; and him SchÜtz considers as the real author of the Rhetorica ad Herennium. This he attempts to prove, by showing, that many things which Suetonius relates of Gnipho, in his work De Claris Rhetoribus, agree with what the author of the Rhetorica ad Herennium delivers concerning himself in the course of that production. It is pretty well established, that both Gnipho and the anonymous author of the Rhetorica ad Herennium were free-born, had good memories, understood Greek, and were voluminous authors. It is unfortunate, however, that these characteristics, except the first, were probably common to almost all rhetoricians; and SchÜtz does not allude to any of the more particular circumstances mentioned by Suetonius, as that Gnipho was a Gaul by birth, that he studied at Alexandria, [pg 205]and that he taught rhetoric in the house of the father of Julius CÆsar.
Cicero, who was unquestionably the first orator, was as decidedly the most learned philosopher of Rome; and while he eclipsed all his contemporaries in eloquence, he acquired, towards the close of his life, no small share of reputation as a writer on ethics and metaphysics. His wisdom, however, was founded entirely on that of the Greeks, and his philosophic writings were chiefly occupied with the discussion of questions which had been agitated in the Athenian schools, and from them had been transmitted to Italy. The disquisition respecting the certainty or uncertainty of human knowledge, with that concerning the supreme good and evil, were the inquiries which he chiefly pursued; and the notions which he entertained of these subjects, were all derived from the Portico, Academy, or Lyceum.
The leading principles of the chief philosophic sects of Greece flowed originally from Socrates—
and who has been termed by Cicero360 the perennial source of philosophy, much more justly than Homer has been styled the fountain of all poetry. Though somewhat addicted to them from education and early habit, Socrates withdrew philosophy from those obscure and intricate physical inquiries, in which she had been involved by the founders and followers of the Ionic school, and from the subtle paradoxical hypotheses of the sophists who established themselves at Athens in the time of Pericles. It being his chief aim to improve the condition of mankind, and to incline them to discharge the several duties of the stations in which they had been placed, this moral teacher directed his examinations to the nature of vice and virtue, of good and evil. To accomplish the great object he had in view, his practice was to hazard no opinion of his own, but to refute prevalent errors and prejudices, by involving the pretenders to knowledge in manifest absurdity, while he himself, as if in contrast to the presumption of the sophists, always professed that he knew nothing. This confession of ignorance, which amounted to no more than a general acknowledgment [pg 206]of the imbecility of the human understanding, and was merely designed to convince his followers of the futility of those speculations which do not rest on the firm basis of experience, or to teach them modesty in their inquiries, and diffidence in their assertions, having been interpreted in a different sense from that in which it was originally intended, gave rise to the celebrated dispute concerning the certainty of knowledge.
The various founders of the philosophic sects of Greece, imbibed that portion of the doctrines of Socrates which suited their own tastes and views, and sometimes perverted his high authority even to dogmatical or sophistical purposes. It is from Plato we have derived the fullest account of his system; but this illustrious disciple had also greatly extended his knowledge by his voyages to Egypt, Sicily, and Magna GrÆcia. Hence in the Academy which he founded, (while, as to morals, he continued to follow Socrates,) he superadded the metaphysical doctrines of Pythagoras; in physics, which Socrates had excluded from philosophy, he adopted the system of Heraclitus; and he borrowed his dialectics from Euclid of Megara. The recondite and eisoteric tenets of Pythagoras—the obscure principles of Heraclitus—the superhuman knowledge of Empedocles, and the sacred Arcana of Egyptian priests, have diffused over the page of Plato a majesty and mysticism very different from what we suppose to have been the familiar tone of instruction employed by his great master, of whose style at least, and manner, Xenophon probably presents us with a more faithful image.
In Greece, the heads of sects were succeeded in their schools or academies as in a domain or inheritance. Speusippus, the nephew of Plato, continued to deliver lectures in the Academy, as did also four other successive masters, Xenocrates, Polemo, Crates, and Crantor, all of whom retained the name of Academics, and taught the doctrines of their master without mixture or corruption. But on the appointment of Xenocrates to the chair of the Academy, Aristotle, the most eminent of Plato’s scholars, had betaken himself to another Gymnasium, called the Lyceum, which became the resort of the Peripatetics. The commanding genius of their founder enlarged the sphere of knowledge and intellect, devised the rules of logic, and traced out the principles of rhetorical and poetical criticism: But the sect which he exalted to unrivalled celebrity, though differing in name from the contemporary Academics, coincided with them generally in all the principal points of physical and moral philosophy, and particularly in those concerning which the Romans chiefly inquired. “Though they [pg 207]differed in terms,” says Cicero, “they agreed in things361, and those persons are grossly mistaken who imagine that the old Academics, as they are called, are any other than the Peripatetics.” Accordingly, we find that both believed in the superintending care of Providence, the immortality of the soul, and a future state of reward and punishment. The supreme good they placed in virtue, with a sufficiency of the chief external advantages of nature, as health, riches, and reputation. Such enjoyments they taught, when united with virtue, make the felicity of man perfect; but if virtuous, he is capable of being happy, (though not entirely so,) without them.
Plato, in his mode of communicating instruction, and promulgating his opinions, had not strictly adhered to the method of his master Socrates. He held the concurrence of memory, with a recent impression, to be a criterion of truth, and he taught that opinions might be formed from the comparison of a present with a recollected perception. But his successors, both in the Academy and Lyceum, departed from the Socratic method still more widely. They renounced the maxim, of affirming nothing; and instead of explaining everything with a doubting reserve, they converted philosophy, as it were, into an art, and formed a system of opinions, which they delivered to their disciples as the peculiar tenets of their sect. They inculcated the belief, that our knowledge has its origin in the senses—that the senses themselves do not judge of truth, but the mind through them beholds things as they really are—that is, it perceives the ideas which always subsist in the same state, without change; so that the senses, through the medium of the mind, may be relied on for the ascertainment of truth. Such was the state of opinions and instruction in the Academy when Arcesilaus, who was the sixth master of that school from Plato, and in his youth had heard the lessons of Pyrrho the sceptic, resolved to reform the dogmatic system into which his predecessors had fallen, and to restore, as he conceived, in all its purity, the Socratic system of affirming nothing with certainty. This founder of the New, or Middle Academy as it is sometimes called, denied even the certain truth of the proposition that we know nothing, which Socrates had reserved as an exception to his general principle. While admitting that there is an actual certainty in the nature of things, he rejected the evidence both of the senses and reason as positive testimony; and as he denied that there existed any infallible criterion of truth or falsehood, he maintained that no wise man ought to [pg 208]give any proposition whatever the sanction of his assent. He differed from the Sceptics or Pyrrhonists only in this, that he admitted degrees of probability, whereas the Sceptics fluctuated in total uncertainty.
As Arcesilaus renounced all pretensions to the certain determination of any question, he was chiefly employed in examining and refuting the sentiments of others. His principal opponent was his contemporary, Zeno, the founder of the stoical philosophy, which ultimately became the chief of those systems which flourished at Rome. The main point in dispute between Zeno and Arcesilaus, was the evidence of the senses. Arcesilaus denied that truth could be ascertained by their assistance, because there is no criterion by which to distinguish false and delusive objects from such as are real. Zeno, on the other hand, maintained that the evidence of the senses is certain and clear, provided they be perfect in themselves, and without obstacle to prevent their effect. Thus, though on different principles, the founder of the Stoics agreed with the Peripatetics and old Academicians, that there existed certain means of ascertaining truth, and consequently that there was evident and certain knowledge. Arcesilaus, though he did not deny that truth existed, would neither give assent nor entertain opinions, because appearances could never warrant his pronouncing on any object or proposition whatever. Nor did the Stoics entertain opinions; but they refrained from this, because they thought that everything might be perceived with certainty.
Arcesilaus, while differing widely from the teachers of the old Platonic Academy in his ideas as to the certainty of knowledge, retained their system concerning the supreme good, which, like them, he placed in virtue, accompanied by external advantages. This was another subject of contest with Zeno, who, as is well known, placed the supreme good in virtue alone,—health, riches, and reputation, not being by him accounted essential, nor disease, poverty, and ignominy, injurious to happiness.
The systems promulgated in the old and new Academy, and the stoical Portico, were those which became most prevalent in Rome. But the Epicurean opinions were also fashionable there. The philosophy of Epicurus has been already mentioned while speaking of Lucretius. Moschus of Phoenicia, who lived before the Trojan war, is said to have been the inventor of the Atomic system, which was afterwards adopted and improved by Leucippus and Democritus, whose works, as Cicero expresses it, were the source from which flowed the [pg 209]streams that watered the gardens of Epicurus362. To the evidence of the senses this teacher attributed such weight, that he considered them as an infallible rule of truth. The supreme good he placed in pleasure, and the chief evil in pain. His scholars maintained, that by pleasure, or rather happiness, he meant a life of wisdom and temperance; but a want of clearness and explicitness in the definition of what constituted pleasure, has given room to his opponents for alleging that he placed consummate felicity in sensual gratification.
It was long before a knowledge of any portion of Greek philosophy was introduced at Rome. For 600 years after the building of the city, those circumstances did not arise in that capital which called forth and promoted philosophy in Greece. The ancient Romans were warriors and agriculturists. Their education was regulated with a view to an active life, and rearing citizens and heroes, not philosophers. The Campus Martius was their school; the tent their Lyceum, and the traditions of their ancestors, and religious rites, their science,—they were taught to act, to believe, and to obey, not to reason or discuss. Among them a class of men may indeed have existed not unlike the seven sages of Greece—men distinguished by wisdom, grave saws, and the services they had rendered to their country; but these were not philosophers in our sense of the term. The wisdom they inculcated was not sectarian, but resembled that species of philosophy cultivated by Solon and Lycurgus, which has been termed political by Brucker, and which was chiefly adapted to the improvement of states, and civilization of infant society. At length, however, in the year 586, when Perseus, King of Macedon, was finally vanquished, his conqueror brought with him to Rome the philosopher Metrodorus, to aid in the instruction of his children363. Several philosophers, who had been retained in the court of that unfortunate monarch, auguring well from this incident, followed Metrodorus to Italy; and about the same time a number of AchÆans, of distinguished merit, who were suspected to have favoured the Macedonians, were summoned to Rome, in order to account for their conduct. The younger Scipio Africanus, in the course of the embassy to which he was appointed by the Senate, to the kings of the east, who were in alliance with the republic, having landed at Rhodes, took under his protection the Stoic philosopher PanÆtius364, who was a native of that island, and carried him back to Rome, where [pg 210]he resided in the house of his patron. PanÆtius afterwards went to Athens, where he became one of the most distinguished teachers of the Portico365, and composed a number of philosophical treatises, of which the chief was that on the Duties of Man.
But though the philosophers were encouraged and cherished by Scipio, LÆlius, ScÆvola, and others of the more mild and enlightened Romans, they were viewed with an eye of suspicion by the grave Senators and stern Censors of the republic. Accordingly, in the year 592, only six years after their first arrival in Rome, the philosophers were banished from the city by a formal decree of the Senate366. The motives for issuing this rigorous edict are not very clearly ascertained. A notion may have been entertained by the severer members of the commonwealth, that the established religion and constitution of Rome might suffer by the discussion of speculative theories, and that the taste for science might withdraw the minds of youth from agriculture and arms. This dread, so natural to a rigid, laborious, and warlike people, would be increased by the degraded and slavish character of the Greeks, which, having been an accompaniment, might be readily mistaken for a consequence, of their progress in philosophy. As most of the philosophers, too, had come from the states of a hostile monarch, the Senate may have feared, lest they should inspire sentiments in the minds of youth, not altogether patriotic or purely republican.
“Sed vetuere patres quod non potuere vetare.”
Though driven from Rome, many of the Greek philosophers took up their residence in the municipal towns of Italy. By the intercession likewise of Scipio Africanus, an exception was made in favour of PanÆtius and the historian Polybius, who were permitted to remain in the capital. The spirit of inquiry, too, had been raised, and the mind had received an impulse which could not be arrested by any senatorial decree, and on which the slightest incident necessarily bestowed an accelerated progress.
The Greek philosophers returned to Rome in the year 598, under the sacred character of ambassadors, on occasion of a political complaint which had been made against the Athenians, and from which they found it necessary to defend them[pg 211]selves. Notwithstanding the disrespect with which philosophers had recently been treated in Italy, the Athenians resolved to dazzle the Romans by a grand scientific embassy. The three envoys chosen were at that time the heads of the three leading sects of Greek philosophers,—Diogenes, the Stoic, Critolaus, the Peripatetic, and Carneades of Cyrene, who now held the place of Arcesilaus in the new Academy. Besides their philosophical learning, they were well qualified by their eloquence, (a talent which had always great influence with the Romans,) to persuade and bring over the minds of men to their principles. Such, indeed, were their extraordinary powers of speaking and reasoning, that it was commonly said at Rome that the Athenians had sent orators, not to persuade, but to compel367. During the period of their embassy at Rome they lectured to crowded audiences in the most public parts of the city. The immediate effect of the display which these philosophic ambassadors made of their eloquence and wisdom, was to excite in the Roman youth an ardent thirst after knowledge, which now became a rival in their breasts to the love of military glory368. Scipio, LÆlius, and Furius, showed the strongest inclination for these new studies, and profited most by them; but there was scarcely a young patrician who was not in some degree attracted by the modest simplicity of Diogenes, the elegant, ornamental, and polished discourse of Critolaus, or the vehement, rapid, and argumentative eloquence of Carneades369. The principles inculcated by Diogenes, who professed to teach the art of reasoning, and of separating truth from falsehood, received their strongest support from the jurisconsults, most of whom became Stoics; and in consequence of their responses, we find at this day that the stoical philosophy exercised much influence on Roman jurisprudence, and that many principles and divisions of the civil law have been founded on its favourite maxims. Of these philosophic ambassadors, however, Carneades was the most able man, and the most popular teacher. “He was blessed,” says Cicero, “with a divine quickness of understanding and command of expression370.”“In his disputations, he never defended what he did not prove, and never attacked what he did not overthrow371.” By some he has been considered and termed the founder of a third Academy, but there appears to be no solid ground for such a distinction. In his lectures, which chiefly turned on ethics, he agreed with both [pg 212]Academies as to the supreme good, placing it in virtue and the primary gifts of nature. Like Arcesilaus, he was a zealous advocate for the uncertainty of human knowledge, but he did not deny, with him, that there were truths, but only maintained that we could not clearly discern them372. The sole other difference in their tenets, is one not very palpable, mentioned by Lucullus in the Academica. Arcesilaus, it seems, would neither assent to anything nor opine. Carneades, though he would not assent, declared that he would opine; under the constant reservation, however, that he was merely opinionating, and that there was no such thing as positive comprehension or perception373. In this, Lucullus, who was a follower of the old Academy, thinks Carneades the most absurd and inconsistent of the two. Carneades succeeded to the old dispute between the Academics and Stoics, and in his prelections he combated the arguments employed by Chrysippus374, in his age the chief pillar of the Portico, as Arcesilaus had formerly maintained the controversy with Zeno, its founder. He differed from the Pyrrhonists, by admitting the real existence of good and evil, and by allowing different degrees of probability375, while his sceptical opponents contended that there was no ground for embracing or rejecting one opinion more than another. Carneades was no less distinguished by his artful and versatile talents for disputation, than his vehement and commanding oratory. But his extraordinary powers of persuasion, and of maintaining any side of an argument, for which the academical philosophy peculiarly qualified him, were at length abused by him, to the scandal of the serious and inflexible Romans. Thus, we are told, that he one day delivered a discourse before Cato, with great variety of thought and copiousness of diction, on the advantages of a rigid observance of the rules of justice. Next day, in order to fortify his doctrine of the uncertainty of human knowledge, he undertook to refute all his former arguments376. It is likely that his attack on justice was a piece of pleasantry, like Erasmus’ Encomium of Folly; and many of his audience were captivated by his ingenuity; but the Censor immediately insisted, that the affairs which had brought these subtle ambassadors to Rome, should be forthwith despatched by the Senate, in order that they might be dismissed with all possible expedition377. Whether [pg 213]Cato entertained serious apprehensions, as is alleged by Plutarch, that the military virtues of his country might be enfeebled, and its constitution undermined, by the study of philosophy, may, I think, be questioned. It is more probable that he dreaded the influence of the philosophers themselves on the opinions of his fellow-citizens, and feared lest their eloquence should altogether unsettle the principles of his countrymen, or mould them to whatever form they chose. Lactantius, too, in a quotation from Cicero’s treatise De Republica, affords what may be considered as an explanation of the reason why Carneades’ lecture against justice was so little palatable to the Censor, and probably to many others of the Romans. One of the objections which he urged against justice, or rather against the existence of a due sense of that quality, was, that if such a thing as justice were to be found on earth, the Romans would resign their conquests, and return to their huts and original poverty378. Cato likewise appears to have had a considerable spirit of personal jealousy and rivalry; while, at the same time, his national pride led him to scorn all the arts of a country which the Roman arms had subdued.
Carneades promulgated his opinions only in his eloquent lectures; and it is not known that he left any writings of importance behind him379. But his oral instructions had made a permanent impression on the Roman youth, and the want of a written record of his principles was amply supplied by his successor Clitomachus, who was by birth a Carthaginian, and was originally called Asdrubal. He had fled from his own country to Athens during the siege of Carthage, by the Romans, in the third Punic war380; and in the year 623 he went from Greece to Italy, to succeed Carneades in the school which he had there established. Clitomachus was a most voluminous author, having written not less than four ample treatises on the necessity of withholding the assent from every proposition whatever. One of these tracts was dedicated to Lucilius, the satiric poet381, and another to the Consul Censorinus. The essence of the principles which he maintained in these works, has been extracted by Cicero, and handed down to us in a passage inserted in the Academica. It is there said, that the resemblances of things are of such a nature that some of them appear probable, and others not; but this is no sufficient ground for supposing that some objects may be correctly perceived, since many falsities are probable, whereas no falsity can be accurately perceived or [pg 214]known: The Academy never attempted to deprive mankind of the use of their senses, by denying that there are such things as colour, taste, and sound; but it denied that there exists in these qualities any criterion or characteristic of truth and certainty. A wise man, therefore, is said, in a double sense, to withhold his assent; in one sense, when it is understood that he absolutely assents to no proposition; in another, when he suspends answering a question, without either denying or affirming. He ought never to assent implicitly to any proposition, and his answer should be withheld until, according to probability, he is in a condition to reply in the affirmative or negative. But as Cicero admits, that a wise man, who, on every occasion, suspends his assent, may yet be impelled and moved to action, he leaves him in full possession of those motives which excite to action, together with a power of answering in the affirmative or negative to certain questions, and of following the probability of objects; yet still without giving them his assent382.
Clitomachus was succeeded by Philo of Larissa, who fled from Greece to Italy, during the Mithridatic war, and revived at Rome a system of philosophy, which by this time began to be rather on the decline. Cicero attended his lectures, and imbibed from them the principles of the new Academy, to which he ultimately adhered. Philo published two treatises, explanatory of the doctrines of the new Academy, which were answered in a work entitled Sosus, by Antiochus of Ascalon, who had been a scholar of Philo, but afterwards abjured the innovations of the new Academy, and returned to the old, as taught by Plato and his immediate successors,—uniting with it, however, some portion of the systems of Aristotle and Zeno383. In his own age, Antiochus was the chief support of the original principles of the Academy, and was patronized by all those at Rome, who were still attached to them, particularly by Lucullus, who took the philosopher along with him to Alexandria, when he went there as QuÆstor of Egypt.
In the circumstances of Rome, the first steps towards philosophical improvement, were a general abatement of that contempt which had been previously entertained for philosophical studies—a toleration of instruction—the power of communicating wisdom without shame or restraint, and its cordial reception by the Roman youth. This proficiency, which necessarily preceded speculation or invention, had already taken place. Partly through the instructions of Greek philo[pg 215]sophers who resided at Rome, and partly by means of the practice which now began to prevail, of sending young men for education to the ancient schools of wisdom, philosophy made rapid progress, and almost every sect found followers or patrons among the higher order of the Roman citizens.
From the earliest times, however, till that of Cicero, Greek philosophy was chiefly inculcated by Greeks. There was no Roman who devoted himself entirely to metaphysical contemplation, and who, like Epicurus, Aristotle, and Zeno, lounged perpetually in a garden, paced about in a Lyceum, or stood upright in a portico. The Greek philosophers passed their days, if not in absolute seclusion, at least in learned leisure and retirement. Speculation was the employment of their lives, and their works were the result of a whole age of study and reflection384. The Romans, on the other hand, regarded philosophy, not as the business of life, but as an elegant relaxation, or the means of aiding their advancement in the state. They heard with attention the ingenious disputes agitated among the Greeks, and perused their works with pleasure; but with all this taste for philosophy, they had not sufficient leisure to devise new theories. The philosophers of Rome were Scipio, Cato, Brutus, Lucullus—men who governed their country at home, or combated her enemies abroad. They had, indeed, little motive to invent new systems, since so many were presented to them, ready formed, that every one found in the doctrines of some Greek sect, tenets which could be sufficiently accommodated to his own disposition and situation. In the same manner as the plunder of Syracuse or Corinth supplied Rome with her statues and pictures, and rendered unnecessary the exertions of native artists; and as the dramas of Euripides and Menander provided sufficient materials for the Roman stage; so the Garden, Porch, and Academy, furnished such variety of systems, that new inventions or speculations could easily be dispensed with. The prevalence, too, of the principles of that Academy, which led to doubt of all things, must have discouraged the formation of new and original theories. Nor were even the Greek systems, after their introduction into Italy, classed and separated as they had been in Greece. Most of the distinguished men of Rome, however, in the time of Cicero, were more inclined to one school than [pg 216]another, and they applied the lessons of the sect which they followed with more success, perhaps, than their masters, to the practical purposes of active life. The jurisconsults, chief magistrates, and censors, adopted the Stoical philosophy, which had some affinity to the principles of the Roman constitution, and which they considered best calculated for ruling their fellow-citizens, as well as meliorating the laws and morals of the state. The orators who aspired to rise by eloquence to the highest honours of the republic, had recourse to the lessons of the new Academy, which furnished them with weapons for disputation; while those who sighed for the enjoyment of tranquillity, amid the factions and dangers of the commonwealth, retired to the Gardens of Epicurus. But while subscribing to the leading tenets of a sect, they did not strive to gain followers with any of the spirit of sectarism; and it frequently happened, that neither in principle nor practice did they adopt all the doctrines of the school to which they chiefly resorted. Thus CÆsar, who was accounted an Epicurean, and followed the Epicurean system in some things, as in his belief of the materiality and mortality of the soul, doubtless held in little reverence those ethical precepts, according to which,
—— “Nihil in nostro corpore prosunt,
Nec fama, neque nobilitas, nec gloria regni.”
Lucretius was a sounder Epicurean, and gave to the precepts of his master all the dignity and grace which poetical embellishment could bestow. But Atticus, the well-known friend and correspondent of Cicero, was perhaps the most perfect example ever exhibited of genuine and practical Epicurism.
The rigid and inflexible Cato, was, both in his life and principles, the great supporter of the Stoical philosophy—conducting himself, according to an expression of Cicero, as if he had lived in the polity of Plato, and not amid the dregs of Romulus. The old Academy boasted among its adherents Lucullus, the conqueror of Mithridates—the Lorenzo of Roman arts and literature—whose palaces rivalled the porticos of Greece, and whose library, with its adjacent schools and galleries, was the resort of all who were distinguished for their learning and accomplishments. Whilst QuÆstor of Macedonia, and subsequently, while he conducted the war against Mithridates, Lucullus had enjoyed frequent opportunities of conversing with the Greek philosophers, and had acquired such a relish for philosophical studies, that he devoted to [pg 217]them all the leisure he could command385. At Rome, his constant companion was Antiochus of Ascalon, who, though a pupil of Philo, became himself a zealous supporter of the old Academy; and accordingly, Lucullus, who favoured that system, often repaired to his house, to partake in the private disputations which were there carried on against the advocates for the new or middle Academy. The old Academy also numbered among its votaries Varro, the most learned of the Romans, and Brutus, who was destined to perform so tragic a part on the ensanguined stage of his country.
Little was done by these eminent men to illustrate or enforce their favourite systems by their writings. Even the productions of Varro were calculated rather to excite to the study of philosophy, than to aid its progress. The new Academy was more fortunate in the support of Cicero, who has asserted and vindicated its principles with equal industry and eloquence. From their first introduction, the doctrines of the new Academy had been favourably received at Rome. The tenets of the dogmatic philosophers were so various and contradictory, were so obstinately maintained, and rested on such precarious foundations, that they afforded much scope and encouragement to scepticism. The plausible arguments by which the most discordant opinions were supported, led to a distrust of the existence of absolute truth, and to an acquiescence in such probable conclusions, as were adequate to the practical purposes of life. The speculations, too, of the new Academy, were peculiarly fitted to the duties of a public speaker, as they left free the field of disputation, and habituated him to the practice of collecting arguments from all quarters, on every doubtful question. Hence it was that Cicero addicted himself to this sect, and persuaded others to follow his example. It has been disputed, if Cicero was really attached to the new Academic system, or had merely resorted to it as being best adapted for furnishing him with oratorical arguments suited to all occasions. At first, its adoption was subsidiary to his other plans. But, towards the conclusion of his life, when he no longer maintained the place he was wont to hold in the Senate or the Forum, and when philosophy formed the occupation “with which existence was just tolerable, and without which it would have been intolerable386,” he doubtless became convinced that the principles of the new Academy, illustrated as they had been by Carneades and Philo, formed the soundest system which had descended to mankind from the schools of Athens.
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The attachment, however, of Cicero to the Academic philosophy, was free from the exclusive spirit of sectarism, and hence it did not prevent his extracting from other systems what he found in them conformable to virtue and reason. His ethical principles, in particular, appear Eclectic, having been, in a great measure, formed from the opinions of the Stoics. Of most Greek sects he speaks with respect and esteem. For the Epicureans alone, he seems (notwithstanding his friendship for Atticus) to have entertained a decided aversion and contempt.
The general purpose of Cicero’s philosophical works, was rather to give a history of the ancient philosophy, than dogmatically to inculcate opinions of his own. It was his great aim to explain to his fellow-citizens, in their own language, whatever the sages of Greece had taught on the most important subjects, in order to enlarge their minds and reform their morals; while, at the same time, he exercised himself in the most useful employment which now remained to him—a superior force having deprived him of the privilege of serving his country as an orator or Consul.
Cicero was in many respects well qualified for the arduous but noble task which he had undertaken, of naturalizing philosophy in Rome, and exhibiting her, according to the expression of Erasmus, on the Stage of life. He was a man of fertile genius, luminous understanding, sound judgment, and indefatigable industry—qualities adequate for the cultivation of reason, and sufficient for the supply of subjects of meditation. Never was a philosopher placed in a situation more favourable for gathering the fruits of an experience employed on human nature and civil society, or for observing the effects of various qualities of the mind on public opinion and on the actions of men. He lived at the most eventful crisis in the fate of his country, and in the closest connection with men of various and consummate talents, whose designs, when fully developed by the result, must have afforded on reflection, a splendid lesson in the philosophy of mind. But this situation, in some respects so favourable, was but ill calculated for revolving abstract ideas, or for meditating on those abstruse and internal powers, of which the consequences are manifested in society and the transactions of life. Accordingly, Cicero appears to have been destitute of that speculative disposition which leads us to penetrate into the more recondite and original principles of knowledge, and to mark the internal operations of thought. He had cultivated eloquence as clearing the path to political honours, and had studied philosophy, as the best auxiliary to eloquence. But the contem[pg 219]plative sciences only attracted his attention, in so far as they tended to elucidate ethical, practical, and political subjects, to which he applied a philosophy which was rather that of life than of speculation.
In the writings of Cicero, accordingly, everything deduced from experience and knowledge of the world—every observation on the duties of society, is clearly expressed, and remarkable for justness and acuteness. But neither Cicero, nor any other Roman author, possessed sufficient subtlety and refinement of spirit, for the more abstruse discussions, among the labyrinths of which the Greek philosophers delighted to find a fit exercise for their ingenuity. Hence, all that required research into the ultimate foundation of truths, or a more exact analysis of common ideas and perceptions—all, in short, that related to the subtleties of the Greek schools, is neither so accurately expressed, nor so logically connected.
In theoretic investigation, then,—in the explication of abstract ideas—in the analysis of qualities and perceptions, Cicero cannot be regarded as an inventor or profound original thinker, and cannot be ranked with Plato and Aristotle, those mighty fathers of ancient philosophy, who carried back their inquiries into the remotest truths on which philosophy rests. Where he does attempt fixing new principles, he is neither very clear nor consistent; and it is evident, that his general study of all systems had, in some degree, unsettled his belief, and had better qualified him to dispute on either side with the Academics, than to examine the exact weight of evidence in the scale of reason, or to exhibit a series of arguments, in close and systematic arrangement, or to deduce accurate conclusions from established and certain principles. His philosophic dialogues are rather to be considered as popular treatises, adapted to the ordinary comprehension of well-informed men, than profound disquisitions, suited only to a Portico or Lyceum. They bespeak the orator, even in the most serious inquiries. Elegance and fine writing, their author appears to have considered as essential to philosophy; and historic, or even poetical illustration, as its brightest ornament. The peculiar merit, therefore, of Cicero, lay in the happy execution of what had never been before attempted—the luminous and popular exposition of the leading principles and disputes of the ancient schools of philosophy, with judgments concerning them, and the application of results, deduced from their various doctrines to the peculiar manners or employments of his countrymen. Hence, though it may be honouring Cicero too highly, to term his works, with Gibbon, a Repository of Reason, they are at least a Miscellany of [pg 220]Philosophic Information, which has become doubly valuable, from the loss of the writings of many of those philosophers, whose opinions he records; and though the merit of originality rests with the Greek schools, no compositions transmitted from antiquity present so concise and comprehensive a view of the opinions of the Greek philosophers387.
That the mind of Cicero was most amply stored with the learning of the Greek philosophers, and that he had the whole circle of their wisdom at his command, is evident, from the rapidity with which his works were composed—having been all written, except the treatise De Legibus, during the period which elapsed from the battle of Pharsalia till his death; and the greater part of them in the course of the year 708.
It is justly remarked by Goerenz, in the introduction to his edition of the book De Finibus388, and assented to by SchÜtz389, that it seems scarcely possible, that those numerous philosophical works, which are asserted to have been composed by Cicero in the year 708, could have been begun and finished in one year; and that such speed of execution leads us to suppose, that either the materials had been long collected, or that the productions themselves were little more than versions. In his Academica, Cicero remarks,—“Ego autem, dum me ambitio, dum honores, dum causÆ, dum reipublicÆ non solum cura, sed quÆdam etiam procuratio multis officiis implicatum et constrictum tenebat, hÆc inclusa habebam; et, ne obsolescerent, renovabam, quum licebat, legendo. Nunc vero et fortunÆ gravissimo percussus vulnere, et administratione reipublicÆ liberatus, doloris medicinam a philosophi peto, et otii oblectationem hanc, honestissimam judico.” It is not easy to determine, as SchÜtz remarks, whether, by the expression “hÆc inclusa habebam,” Cicero means merely the writings of philosophical authors, or treatises and materials for treatises by himself. “We ought, however,” proceeds SchÜtz, “the less to wonder that Cicero composed so many works in so short a time, when we read the following passage in a letter to Atticus, written in July 708—‘De lingu Latin securi es animi, dices, qui talia conscribis! ?p???afa sunt; minore labore fiunt: verba tantum affero, quibus abundo390’; which words, according to Gronovius, imply, that the philosophic writings of Cicero are little more than versions from the Greek.”
In the laudable attempt of naturalizing philosophy at Rome, [pg 221]the difficulty which Lucretius had encountered, in embodying in Latin verse the precepts of Epicurus,—
must have been almost as powerfully felt by Cicero. Philosophy was still little cultivated among the Romans; and no people will invent terms for thoughts or ideas with which it is little occupied. One of his letters to Atticus is strongly expressive of the trouble which he had in interpreting the philosophic terms of Greece in his native tongue391. Thus, for example, he could find no Latin word equivalent to the ?p???, or that withholding of assent from all propositions, which the new Academy professed. The language of the Greeks had been formed along with their philosophy. Their terms of physics had their origin in the ancient Theogonies, or the speculations of the Milesian sage; and Plato informs us, that one might make a course of moral philosophy in travelling through Attica and reading the inscriptions engraved on the tombs, pillars, and monuments, erected in the earliest ages near the public ways and centre of villages392. Hence, in Greece, words naturally became the apposite signs of speculative and moral ideas; but in Rome, a foreign philosophy had to be inculcated in a tongue which was already completely formed, which was greatly inferior in flexibility and precision to the Greek; and which, though Cicero certainly used some liberties in this respect, had too nearly reached maturity, to admit of much innovation. Its words, accordingly, did not always precisely express the subtle notions signified in the original language, whence there was often an appearance of obscurity in the idea, and of a defect in conclusions, drawn from premises which were indefinite, or which differed by a shade of meaning from those established in Greece.
Aware of this difficulty, and conscious, perhaps, that he possessed not precision and originality of thinking sufficient to recommend a formal treatise, Cicero adopted the mode of writing in dialogues, in which rhetorical diffuseness, and looseness of definition, might be overlooked, and in which ample scope would be afforded for the ornaments of language.
It was by oral discourse that knowledge was chiefly communicated at the dawn of science, when books either did not exist, or were extremely rare. In the Porch, in the Garden, or among the groves of the Academy, the philosopher conferred with his disciples, listened to their remarks, and replied [pg 222]to their objections. Socrates, in particular, was accustomed thus to inculcate his moral lessons; and it was natural for the scholars, who recorded them, to follow the manner in which they had been disclosed. Of these disciples, Plato, who was the most distinguished, readily adopted a form of composition, which gave scope to his own fertile and poetical imagination; while, at the same time, it enabled him more accurately to paint his great master. One of his chief objects, too, was to represent the triumph of Socrates over the Sophists; and if a writer wish to cover an opponent with ridicule, perhaps no better mode could be devised, than to set him up as a man of straw in a dialogue. As argumentative victory, or the embarrassment of the antagonist of Socrates, was often all that was aimed at, it was unnecessary to be very scrupulous about the means, and, considered in this view, the agreeable irony of that philosopher—the address with which, by seeming to yield, he ensnares the adversary—his quibbles—his subtle distinctions, and perplexing interrogatories, display consummate skill, and produce considerable dramatic effect; while, at the same time, the scenery and circumstances of the dialogue are often described with a richness and beauty of imagination, which no philosophic writer has as yet surpassed393.
When Cicero, towards the close of his long and meritorious life, employed himself in transferring to Rome the philosophy of Greece, he appears to have been chiefly attracted by the diffusive majesty of Plato, whose intellectual character was in many respects congenial to his own. His dialogues in so far resemble those of Plato, that the personages are real, and of various characters and opinions; while the circumstances of time and place are, for the most part, as completely fictitious as in his Greek models. Yet there is a considerable difference in the manner of Cicero’s Dialogues, from those of the great founder of the Academy. Plato ever preserved something of the Socratic method of giving birth to the thoughts of others—of awakening, by interrogatories, the sense of truth, and supplanting errors. But Cicero himself, or the person who speaks his sentiments, always takes the lead in the conference, and gives us long, and often uninterrupted dissertations. His object, too, appears to have been not so much to cover his adversaries with ridicule, or even to prevail in the argument, as to pay a complimentary tribute to his numerous and illustrious friends, or to recall, as it were, from the tomb, the departed heroes and sages of his country.
In the form of dialogue, Cicero has successively treated of Law, Metaphysics, Theology, and Morals.
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De Legibus.—Of this dialogue there are only three books now extant, and even in these considerable chasms occur. A conjecture has been recently hazarded by a learned German, in an introduction to a translation of the dialogue, that these three books, as we now have them, were not written by Cicero, but that they are mere excerpts taken from his lost writings, by some monk or father of the church394. There are few works, however, in which more genuine marks of the master-hand of Cicero may be traced, than in the tract De Legibus; and the connection between the different parts is too closely preserved, to admit of the notion that it has been made up in the manner which this critic supposes. Another conjecture is, that it formed part of the third, fourth, and fifth books of Cicero’s lost treatise De Republica. This surmise, however, was highly improbable, since Cicero, in the course of the work De Legibus, refers to that De Republica as a separate production, and it is now proved to be chimerical by the discovery of Mai. The dialogue De Legibus, however, seems to have been drawn up as a kind of supplement to that De Republica, being intended to point out what laws would be most suitable to the perfect republic, which the author had previously described395.
As to the period of composition, it thus manifestly appears to have been written subsequently to the dialogue De Republica; and it is evident, from his letters to his brother Quintus, that the work De Republica was begun in 699, and finished in 700396, so that the dialogue De Legibus could not have been composed before that year. It is further clear, that it was written after the year 701, since he obviously alludes in it to the murder of Clodius,—boasting that his chief enemy was now not only deprived of life, but wanted sepulture, and the accustomed funeral obsequies397. Now, it is well known that Clodius was slain in 701, and that his dead body was dragged naked by a lawless mob into the Forum, where it was consumed amid the conflagration raised in the Senate-house. It is equally evident that the treatise De Legibus was written before that De Finibus, composed in 708, since, in the former work, the author alludes to the questions which we find discussed in the latter, as controversies which he is one day to take up398. But it is demonstrable that the dialogue De Legibus was written even previous to the battle of Pharsalia, which was fought in 705, since the author talks in it of Pompey as of [pg 224]a person still alive, and in the plenitude of glory399. Chapman, in his dissertation De Ætate Librorum de Legibus, subjoined to Tunstall’s Latin letter to Middleton, concerning the epistles to Brutus, thinks that it was not written till the year 709. He is of opinion, that what is said of Pompey, and the allusions to the murder of Clodius, as to a recent event, were only intended to suit the time in which the dialogue takes place: But then it so happens, that no historical period whatever is assigned by the author of the dialogue, as the date of its actual occurrence. Chapman also maintains, that this is the only mode of accounting for the work De Legibus not being mentioned in the treatise De Divinatione, where Cicero’s other philosophical productions are enumerated. The reason of this omission, however, might be, that the work De Legibus never was made public by the author; and, indeed, with exception of the first book, the whole is but a sketch or outline of what he intended to write, and is far from having received the polish and perfection of those performances which he circulated himself.
The discussion De Legibus is carried on, in the shape of dialogue, by Cicero, his brother Quintus, and Atticus. Of these Cicero is the chief interlocutor. The scene is laid amid the walks and pleasure-grounds of Cicero’s villa of Arpinum, which lay about three miles from the town of that name, and was situated in a mountainous but picturesque region of the ancient territory of the Samnites, now forming part of the kingdom of Naples. This house was the original seat of the family of Cicero, who was born in it during the life of his grandfather, while it was yet small and humble as the Sabine cottage of Curius or Cincinnatus; but his father had gradually enlarged and embellished it, till it became a spacious and elegant mansion, where, as his health was infirm, he passed the greater part of his life in literary retirement400. Cicero was thus equally attracted to this villa by the many pleasing and tender recollections with which it was associated, and by the amenity of the situation, which was the most retired and delightful, even in that region of enchanting landscape. It was closely surrounded by a grove, and stood not far from the confluence of the Fibrenus with the Liris. The former stream, which murmured over a rocky channel, was remarkable for its clearness, rapidity, and coolness; and its sloping verdant banks were shaded with lofty poplars401. “Many streams,” says Mr. Kelsall, one of our latest Italian tourists, “which are celebrated in story and song, disappoint the traveller,— [pg 225]
‘Dumb are their fountains, and their channels dry,’—
but, in the course of long travels, I never met with so abundant and lucid a current as the Fibrenus; the length of the stream considered, which does not exceed four miles and a half. It flows with great rapidity, and is about thirty or thirty-five feet in width near the Ciceronian isles. It is generally fifteen and even twenty in depth; ‘largus et exundans,’ like the genius of him who had so often trodden its banks. The water even in the intensest heats, still retains its icy coldness; and, although the thermometer was above 80° in the shade, the hand, plunged for a few seconds into the Fibrenus, caused a complete numbness402.” Near to the house, the Fibrenus was divided into equal streams by a little island, which was fringed with a few plane-trees, and on which stood a portico403, where Cicero often retired to read or meditate, and composed some of his sublimest harangues. Just below this islet, each branch of the stream rushed by a sort of cascade, into the cerulean Liris404, on which the Fibrenus bestowed additional freshness and coolness, and after this union received the name of the more noble river405. The epithet taciturnus, applied to the Liris by Horace, and quietus, by Silius Italicus, must be understood only of the lower windings of its course. No river in Italy is so noisy as the Liris about Arpino and Cicero’s villa; for the space of a mile and a half after receiving the Fibrenus, it formed no less than six cascades, varying in height from three to twenty feet406. This spot, embellished with all the ornaments of hills and valleys, and wood and water-falls, was one of Cicero’s most favourite retreats. When Atticus first visited it, he was so charmed, that, instead of wondering as before that it was such a favourite residence of his friend, he expressed his surprise that he ever retired elsewhere407; declaring, at the same time, his contempt of the marble pavements, arched ceilings, and artificial canals of magnificent villas, compared with the tranquillity and natural beauties of Arpinum. Cicero, indeed, appears at one time to have thought of the island, formed by the Fibrenus, as the place most suitable for the monument which he intended to raise to his beloved daughter Tullia408.
The situation of this villa was close to the spot where now [pg 226]stands the city of Sora409. “The Liris,” says Eustace, “still bears its ancient name till it passes Sora, when it is called the Garigliano. The Fibrenus, still so called, falls into it a little below Sora, and continues to encircle the island in which Cicero lays the scene of the dialogue De Legibus. Arpinum, also, still retains its name410.” Modern travellers bear ample testimony to the scenery round Sora being such as fully justifies the fond partiality of Cicero, and the admiration of Atticus. “Nothing,” says Mr Kelsall, “can be imagined finer than the surrounding landscape. The deep azure of the sky, unvaried by a single cloud—Sora on a rock at the foot of the precipitous Apennines—both banks of the Garigliano covered with vineyards—the fragor aquarum, alluded to by Atticus in the work De Legibus—the coolness, rapidity, and ultramarine hue of the Fibrenus,—the noise of its cataracts—the rich turquoise colour of the Liris—the minor Apennines round Arpino, crowned with umbrageous oaks to their very summits, present scenery hardly elsewhere to be equalled, certainly not to be surpassed, even in Italy411.” The spot where Cicero’s villa stood, was, in the time of Middleton, possessed by a convent of monks, and was called the villa of St Dominic. It was built in the year 1030, from the fragments of the Arpine villa!
“Art, Glory, Freedom, fail—but Nature still is fair.”
The first conference, De Legibus, is held in a walk on the banks of the Fibrenus; the other two in the island which it formed, and which Cicero called Amalthea, from a villa belonging to Atticus in Epirus. These three books are all that are now extant. It appears, however, that, at the commencement of the fifth dialogue, the sun having then passed the meridian, and its beams striking in such a direction that the speakers were no longer sheltered from its rays by the young plane-trees, which had been recently planted, they left the island, and descending to the banks of the Liris, finished their discourse under the shade of the alder-trees, which stretched their branches over its margin412.
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An ancient oak, which stood in Cicero’s pleasure-grounds, led Atticus to inquire concerning the augury which had been presented to Marius, a native of Arpinum, from that very oak, and which Cicero had celebrated in a poem devoted to the exploits of his ferocious countryman, Cicero hints, that the portent was all a fiction; which leads to a discussion on the difference between poetry and history, and the poverty of Rome in the latter department. As Cicero, owing to the multiplicity of affairs, had not then leisure to supply this deficiency, he is requested by his guests, to give them, in the meanwhile, a dissertation on Laws—a subject with which he was so conversant, that he could require no previous preparation. It is agreed, that he should not treat of particular or arbitrary laws,—as those concerning Stillicide, and the forms of judicial procedure—but should trace the philosophic principles of jurisprudence to their remotest sources. From this recondite investigation he excludes the Epicureans, who decline all care of the republic, and bids them retire to their gardens. He entreats that the new Academy should be silent, since her bold objections would soon destroy the fair and well-ordered structure of his lofty system. Zeno, Aristotle, and the immediate followers of Plato, he represents as the teachers who best prepare a citizen for performing the duties of social life. Them he professes chiefly to follow; and, in conformity with their system, he announces in the first book, which treats of laws in general, that man being linked to a supreme God by reason and virtue, and the whole species being associated by a communion of feelings and interests, laws are alike founded on divine authority and natural benevolence.
According to this sublime hypothesis, the whole universe forms one immense commonwealth of gods and men, who participate of the same essence, and are members of the same community. Reason prescribes the law of nature and nations; and all positive institutions, however modified by accident or custom, are drawn from the rule of right which the Deity has inscribed on every virtuous mind. Some actions, therefore, are just in their own nature, and ought to be performed, not because we live in a society where positive laws punish those who pay no regard to them, but for the sake of that equity which accompanies them, independently of human ordinances. These principles may be applicable to laws in a certain sense; but, in fact, it is rather moral right and justice than laws that the author discusses—for bad or pernicious laws he does not admit to be laws at all. To do justice, to love mer[pg 228]cy, and to worship God with a pure heart, were, doubtless, laws in his meaning, (that is, they were right,) previous to their enactment, and no human enactment to the contrary could abrogate them. His principles, however, apply to laws in this sense, and not to arbitrary civil institutions.
Having, in the first discourse, laid open the origin of laws, and source of obligations, he proceeds, in the remaining books, to set forth a body of laws conformable to his own plan and ideas of a well-ordered state;—announcing, in the first place, those which relate to religion and the worship of the gods; secondly, such as prescribe the duties and powers of magistrates. These laws are, for the most part, taken from the ancient government and customs of Rome, with some little modification calculated to obviate or heal the disorders to which the republic was liable, and to give its constitution a stronger bias in favour of the aristocratic faction. The species of instruction communicated in these two books, has very little reference to the sublime and general principles with which the author set out. Many of his laws are arbitrary municipal regulations. The number of the magistrates, the period of the duration of their offices, with the suffrages and elections in the Comitia, were certainly not founded in the immutable laws of God or nature; and the discussion concerning them has led to the belief, that the second and third books merely comprehended a collection of facts, from which general principles were to be subsequently deduced.
At the end of the third book it is mentioned, that the executive power of the magistracy, and rights of the Roman citizens, still remain to be discussed. In what number of books this plan was accomplished, is uncertain. Macrobius, as we have seen, quotes the fifth book413; and Goerenz thinks it probable there were six,—the fourth being on the executive power, the fifth on public, and the sixth on private rights.
What authors Cicero chiefly followed and imitated in his work De Legibus, has been a celebrated controversy since the time of Turnebus. It seems now to be pretty well settled, that, in substance and principles, he followed the Stoics; but that he imitated Plato in the style and dress in which he arrayed his sentiments and opinions. That philosopher, as is well known, after writing on government in general, drew up a body of laws adapted to that particular form of it which he had delineated. In like manner, Cicero chose to deliver his sentiments, not by translating Plato, but by imitating his manner [pg 229]in the explication of them, and adapting everything to the constitution of his own country. The Stoic whom he principally followed, was probably Chrysippus, who wrote a book ?e?? ????414, some passages of which are still extant, and exhibit the outlines of the system adopted in the first book De Legibus. What of general discussion appears in the third book is taken from Theophrastus, Dio, and PanÆtius the Stoic.
De Finibus Bonorum et Malorum.—This work is a philosophical account of the various opinions entertained by the Greeks concerning the Supreme Good and Extreme Evil, and is by much the most subtle and difficult of the philosophic writings of Cicero. It consists of five books, of that sort of dialogue, in which, as in the treatise De Oratore, the discourse is not dramatically represented, but historically related by the author. The constant repetition of “said I,” and “says he,” is tiresome and clumsy, and not nearly so agreeable as the dramatic form of dialogue, where the names of the different speakers are alternately prefixed, as in a play. The whole is addressed to Marcus Brutus in an Introduction, where the author excuses his study of philosophy, which some persons had blamed as unbecoming his character and dignity. The conference in the first two books is supposed to be held at Cicero’s Cuman villa, which was situated on the hills of old CumÆ, and commanded a prospect of the Campi PhlegrÆi, the bay of Puteoli, with its islands, the Portus Misenus the harbour of the Roman fleet, and BaiÆ, the retreat of the most wealthy patricians. Here Cicero received a visit from Lucius Torquatus, a confirmed Epicurean, and from a young patrician, Caius Triarius, who is a mute in the ensuing colloquy. Torquatus engages their host in philosophical discussion, by requesting to know his objections to the Epicurean system. These Cicero states generally; but Torquatus, in his answer, confines himself to the question of the Supreme Good, which he placed in pleasure. This tenet he supports on the principle, that, of all things, Virtue is the most pleasurable; that we ought to follow its laws, in consequence of the serenity and satisfaction arising from its practice; and that honourable toil, or even pain, are not always to be avoided, as they often prove necessary means towards obtaining the most exquisite gratifications. Cicero, in his refutation, which is contained in the second book, gives rather a different representation of the philosophy of Epicurus, from his great poetic contemporary Lucretius. The term ?d???, (voluptas,) used by Epicurus to express his Supreme Good, can only, as Cicero maintains, mean sensual [pg 230]enjoyment, and can never be so interpreted as to denote tranquillity of mind. But supposing virtue to be cultivated merely as productive of pleasure, or as only valuable because agreeable—a cheat, who had no remorse or conscience, might enjoy the summum bonum in defrauding a rightful owner of his property; and no act would thus be accounted criminal, if it escaped the brand of public infamy. On the other hand, if pain be accounted the Supreme Evil, how can any man enjoy felicity, when this greatest of all misfortunes may at any moment seize him!
In the third and fourth books, the scene of the dialogue is changed. In order to inspect some books of Aristotelian philosophy, Cicero walks over to the villa of young Lucullus, to whom he had been appointed guardian, by the testament of his illustrious father. Here he finds Cato employed in perusing certain works of Stoical authors; and a discussion arises on that part of the Stoical system, relating to the Supreme Good, which Cato placed in virtue alone. Cicero, in his answer to Cato, attempts to reconcile this tenet with the doctrines of the Academic philosophy, which he himself professed, by showing that the difference between them consisted only in the import affixed to the term good—the Academic sect assigning a pre-eminence to virtue, but admitting that external advantages are good also in their decree. Now, the Stoics would not allow them to be good, but merely valuable, eligible, or preferable; so that the sects could be reconciled in sentiments, if the terms were a little changed. The Academical system is fully developed in the fifth book, in a dialogue held within the Academy; and, at the commencement, the associations which that celebrated, though then solitary spot, was calculated to awaken are finely described. “I see before me,” says Piso, “the perfect form of Plato, who was wont to dispute in this very place: These gardens not only recall him to my memory, but present his very person to my senses—I fancy to myself that here stood Speusippus—there Xenocrates—and here, on this bench, sat his disciple Polemo. To me, our ancient Senate-house seems peopled with the like visionary forms; for often when I enter it, the shades of Scipio, of Cato, and of LÆlius, and, in particular, of my venerable grandfather, rise up to my imagination.” Here Piso, who was a great Platonist, gives an account, in the presence of Cicero and Cicero’s brother Quintus, of the hypothesis of the old Academy concerning moral good, which was also that adopted by the Peripatetics. According to this system, the summum bonum consists in the highest improvement of all the mental and bodily faculties. The perfection, in short, of everything [pg 231]consistent with nature, enters into the composition of supreme felicity. Virtue, indeed, is the highest of all things, but other advantages must also be valued according to their worth. Even pleasures become ingredients of happiness, if they be such as are included in the prima naturÆ, or primary advantages of nature. Cicero seems to approve this system, and objects only to one of the positions of Piso, That a wise man must be always happy. Our author thus contrasts with each other the different systems of Greek philosophy, particularly the Epicurean with the Stoical tenets; and hence, besides, refuting them in his own person, he makes the one baffle the other, till he arrives at what is most probable, the utmost length to which the middle or new Academy pretended to reach. The chief part of the work De Finibus, is taken from the best writings of the different philosophers whose doctrines he explains. The first book closely follows the tract of Epicurus, ?????? d????. Cicero’s second book, in which he refutes Epicurism, is borrowed from the stoic Chrysippus, who wrote ten books Of the beautiful, and of pleasure, (?e?? t?? ?a??? ?a? t?? ?d????,) wherein he canvassed the Epicurean tenets concerning the Supreme Good and Evil. His third book is derived from a treatise of the same Chrysippus, entitled ?e?? te???415. The fourth, where he refutes the Stoics, is from the writings of Polemo, who, following the example of his master Xenocrates, amended the Academic doctrines, and nearly accommodated them on this subject of Good and Evil to the opinions of the ancient Peripatetics. Some works of Antiochus of Ascalon, who, in the time of Cicero, was the head of the old Academy, supplied the materials for the concluding dialogue.
The work De Finibus was written in 708, and though begun subsequently to the Academica, was finished before it. The period, however, of the three different conferences of which it consists, is laid a considerable time before the date of its publication. It is evident that the first dialogue is supposed to be held in 703, since Torquatus, the principal speaker, who perished in the civil war, is mentioned as PrÆtor Designatus, and this prÆtorship he bore in the year 704. The following conference is placed subsequently, at least, to the death of the great Lucullus, who died in 701. The last dialogue is carried more than thirty years back, being laid in 674, when Cicero was in his twenty-seventh year, and was attending the lessons of the Athenian philosophers. For this change, the reason seems to have been, that as Piso was the fittest person whom the author could find to support the doctrines of the [pg 232]old Academy, and as he had renounced his friendship during the time of the disturbances occasioned by the Clodian faction, it became necessary to place the conference at a period when they were fellow-students at Athens. The critics have observed some anachronisms in this last book, in making Piso refer to the other two dialogues, of which he had no share, and could have had no knowledge, as being held at a later period than that of the conference he attended.
Academica.—This work is termed Academica, either because it chiefly relates to the Academic philosophy, or because it was composed at the villa of Puteoli, where a grove and portico were called by Cicero, from an affected imitation of the Athenians, his Academy416. There evidently existed what may be termed two editions of the Academica, neither of which we now possess perfect—what we have being the second book of the first edition, and the first of the second. In the first edition, the speakers were Cicero himself, Catulus, Lucullus, and Hortensius. The first book was inscribed Catulus, and the second Lucullus, these persons being the chief interlocutors in their respective divisions. The first dialogue, or Catulus, was held in the villa of that senator. Every word of it is unfortunately lost, but the import may be gathered, from the references to it in the Lucullus, or second book, which is still extant. It appears to have contained a sketch of the history of the old and the new Academy, and then to have entered minutely into the doctrines and principles of the latter, to which Catulus was attached. Catulus explained them as they had been delivered by Carneades, whose lectures his father had attended, and in his old age imparted their substance to his son. He refuted the philosophy of Philo, where that writer differed from Carneades, (which, though of the new Academy, he did in some particulars,) and also the opinions of Antiochus, who followed the old Academy. Hortensius seems to have made a short reply, but the more ample discussion of the system of the old Academy was reserved for Lucullus. Previous, however, to entering on this topic, our philosophers pass over from the Cuman villa of Catulus to that of Hortensius, at Bauli, one of the many magnificent seats belonging to that orator, and situated a little above the luxurious BaiÆ, in the direction towards CumÆ, on an inlet of the Bay of Naples. Here they had resolved to remain till a favourable breeze should spring up, which might carry Lucullus to his Neapolitan, and Cicero to his Pompeian villa. While awaiting this opportunity, they repaired to an open gallery, which looked towards [pg 233]the sea, whence they descried the vessels sailing across the bay, and the ever changeful hue of its waters, which appeared of a saffron colour under the morning beam, but became azure at noon, till, as the day declined, they were rippled by the western breeze, and empurpled by the setting sun417. Here Lucullus commenced his defence of the old Academy, and his disputation against Philo, according to what he had learned from the philosopher Antiochus, who had accompanied him to Alexandria, when he went there as QuÆstor of Egypt. While residing in that city, two books of Philo arrived, which excited the philosophic wrath of Antiochus, and gave rise to much oral discussion, as well as to a book from his pen, entitled Sosus, in which he attempted to refute the doctrines so boldly promulgated by Philo. Lucullus was thus enabled fully and faithfully to detail the arguments of the chief supporter and reviver in those later ages of the old Platonic Academy. His discourse is chiefly directed against that leading principle of the new Academy, which taught that nothing can be known or ascertained. Recurring to nature, and the constitution of man, he confirms the faith we have in our external senses, and the mental conclusions deduced from them. To this Cicero replies, from the writings of Clitomachus, and of course enlarges on the delusion of the senses—the false appearances we behold in sleep, or while under the influence of phrensy, and the uncertainty of everything so fully demonstrated by the different opinions of the great philosophers, on the most important of all subjects, the Providence of the Gods—the Supreme Good and Evil, and the formation of the world.
These two books, the Catulus and Lucullus, of which, as already mentioned, the last alone is extant, were written after the termination of the civil wars, and a copy of them sent by Cicero to Atticus. It occurred, however, to the author soon afterwards, that the characters introduced were not very suitable to the subjects discussed, since Catulus and Lucullus, though both ripe scholars, and well-educated men, could not, as statesmen and generals, be supposed to be acquainted with all the minutiÆ of philosophic controversy contained in the books bearing their names. While deliberating if he should not rather put the dialogue into the lips of Cato and Brutus, he received a letter from Atticus, acknowledging the present of his work, but mentioning that their common friend, Varro, was displeased to find that none of his treatises were addressed to him, or inscribed with his name. This intimation, and the [pg 234]incongruity of the former characters with the subject, determined the author to dedicate the work to Varro, and to make him the principal speaker in the dialogue418. This change, and the reflection, perhaps, on certain defects in the arrangement of the old work, as also the discovery of considerable omissions, particularly with regard to the tenets of Arcesilaus, the founder of the new academy, induced him to remodel the whole, to add in some places, to abridge in others, and to bestow on it more lustre and polish of style. In this new form, the Academica consisted of four books, a division which was better adapted for treating his subject: But of these four, only the first remains. The dialogue it contains is supposed to be held during a visit which Atticus and Cicero paid to Varro, in his villa near CumÆ. His guests entreat him to give an account of the principles of the old Academy, from which Cicero and Atticus had long since withdrawn, but to which Varro had continued steadily attached. This first book probably comprehends the substance of what was contained in the Catulus of the former edition. Varro, in complying with the request preferred to him, deduces the origin of the old Academy from Socrates; he treats of its doctrines as relating to physics, logic, and morals, and traces its progress under Plato and his legitimate successors. Cicero takes up the discourse when this historical account is brought down to Arcesilaus, the founder of the new Academy. But the work is broken off in the most interesting part, and just as the author is entering on the life and lectures of Carneades, who introduced the new Academy at Rome. Cicero, however, while he styles it the new Academy, will scarcely allow it to be new, as it was in fact the most genuine exposition of those sublime doctrines which Plato had imbibed from Socrates. The historical sketch of the Academic philosophy having been nearly concluded in the first book, the remaining books, which are lost, contained the disputatious part. In the second book the doctrines of Arcesilaus were explained; and from one of the few short fragments preserved, there appears to have been a discussion concerning the remarkable changes that occur in the colour of objects, and the complexion of individuals, in consequence of the alterations they undergo in position or age, which was one of Arcesilaus’ chief arguments against the certainty of evidence derived from the senses. The third and fourth books probably contained the doctrines of Carneades and Philo, with Varro’s refutation of them, according to the principles of Antiochus. From a fragment of [pg 235]the third book, preserved by Nonius, it appears that the scene of the dialogue was there transferred to the banks of the Lucrine lake, which lay in the immediate vicinity of Varro’s Cuman villa419.
These four books formed the work which Cicero wished to be considered as the genuine and improved Academics. The former edition, however, which he had sent to Atticus, had gone abroad, and as he could not recall it, he resolved to complete it, by prefixing an introductory eulogy of Catulus to the first, and of Lucullus to the second book,—extolling, in particular, the incredible genius of the latter, which enabled him, though previously inexperienced in the art of war, merely by conversation and study, during his voyage from Rome, to land on the coast of Asia, with the acquirements of a consummate commander, and to extort the admission from his antagonist, Mithridates, who had coped with Sylla, that he was the first of warriors.
This account of the two editions of the Academics, which was first suggested by TalÆus420, has been adopted by Goerenz421; and it appears to me completely confirmed by the series of Cicero’s letters to Atticus, contained in the 13th book of his Epistles. It is by no means, however, unanimously assented to by the French and German commentators. Lambinus, seeing that Nonius quoted, as belonging to the fourth book of the Academica, passages which we find in the Lucullus, or second book of the first edition, considered and inscribed it as the fourth of the new edition, instead of the second of the old, in which he was followed by many subsequent editors; but this is easily accounted for, since the new edition, being remodelled on the old, many things in the last or second book of the old edition would naturally be transferred to the fourth or last of the new, and be so cited by those grammarians who wrote when the whole work was extant. Ranitz denies that there ever were two editions of the Academica made public, or preserved, and that, so far from the last three books being lost, the Lucullus contains the whole of these three, but from the error of transcribers they have been run into each other422. This critic is right, indeed, in the notion he entertains, that Cicero wished the first edition of the Academica to be destroyed, or to fall into oblivion, but it does not follow that [pg 236]either of these wishes was accomplished; and indeed it is proved, from Cicero’s own letters, that the older edition had passed into extensive circulation.
TusculanÆ Disputationes, are so called by Cicero, from having been held at his seat near Tusculum—a town which stood on the summit of the Alban hill, about a mile higher up than the modern Frescati, and communicated its name to all the rural retreats in its neighbourhood. This was Cicero’s chief and most favourite villa. “It is,” says he, “the only spot in which I completely rest from all my uneasiness, and all my toils.”—“It stood,” says Eustace, “on one of the Tumuli, or beautiful hills grouped together on the Alban Mount. It is bounded on the south by a deep dell, with a streamlet that falls from the rock, then meanders through the recess, and disappears in its windings. Eastward rises the lofty eminence, once crowned with Tusculum—Westward, the view descends, and passing over the Campagna, fixes on Rome, and the distant mountains beyond it.—On the south, a gentle swell presents a succession of vineyards and orchards; and behind it towers the summit of the Alban Mount, once crowned with the temple of Jupiter Latiaris. Thus Cicero, from his portico, enjoyed the noblest and most interesting view that could be imagined to a Roman and a Consul; the temple of the tutelary divinity of the empire, the seat of victory and triumph, and the theatre of his glorious labours,—the Capital of the World423.” A yet more recent traveller informs us, that “the situation of the ancient Tusculum is delightful. The road which leads to it is shaded with umbrageous woods of oak and ilex. The ancient trees and soft verdant meadows around it, almost remind us of some of the loveliest scenes of England; and the little brook that babbles by, was not the less interesting from the thought, that its murmurs might perchance have once soothed the ear of Cicero424.”
The distance of Tusculum from Rome, which was only four leagues, afforded Cicero an easy retreat from the fatigues of the Senate and Forum. Being the villa to which he most frequently resorted, he had improved and adorned it beyond all his other mansions, and rendered its internal elegance suitable to its majestic situation. It had originally belonged to Sylla, by whom it was highly ornamented. In one of its apartments there was a painting of his victory near Nola, during the Marsic war, in which Cicero had served under him as a volunteer. But its new master had bestowed on this seat a more classical [pg 237]and Grecian air. He had built several halls and galleries in imitation of the schools and porticos of Athens, which he termed Gymnasia. One of these, which he named the Academia, was erected at a little distance from the villa, on the declivity of the hill facing the Alban Mount425. Another Gymnasium, which he called the Lyceum, stood higher up the hill than the Academy: It was adjacent to the villa, and was chiefly designed for philosophical conferences. Cicero had given a general commission to Atticus, who spent much of his time in Greece, to purchase any elegant or curious piece of Grecian art, in painting or sculpture, which his refined taste might select as a suitable ornament for his Tusculan villa. He, in consequence, received from his friend a set of marble Mercuries, with brazen heads, with which he was much pleased; but he was particularly delighted with a sort of compound emblematical figures called HermathenÆ and HermeraclÆrepresenting Mercury and Minerva, or Mercury and Hercules, jointly on one base; for, Hercules being the proper deity of the Gymnasium, Minerva of the Academy, and Mercury common to both, they precisely suited the purpose for which he desired them to be procured. One of these Minerval Mercuries pleased him so wonderfully, and stood in such an advantageous position, that he declared the whole Academy at Tusculum appeared to have been contrived in order to receive it426. So intent was he on embellishing this Tusculan villa with all sorts of Grecian art, that he sent over to Atticus the plans and devices for his ceilings, which were of stucco-work, in order to bespeak various pieces of sculpture and painting to be inserted in the compartments; as also the covers for two of his wells or fountains, which, by the custom of those times, were often formed after some elegant pattern, and adorned with figures in relief427.
La Grotta Ferrata, a convent of Basilian friars, is now, according to Eustace, built on the site of Cicero’s Tusculan villa. Nardini, who wrote about the year 1650, says, that there had been recently found, among the ruins of Grotta Ferrata, a piece of sculpture, which Cicero himself mentions in one of his Familiar Epistles. In the middle of last century, there yet remained vast subterranean apartments, as well as a great circumference and extent of ruins428. But these, it would appear, have been still farther dilapidated since that period. “Scarce [pg 238]a trace,” says Eustace, “of the ruins of Tusculum is now discoverable: Great part remained at the end of the 10th century, when a Greek monk from Calabria demolished it, and erected on the site, the monastery of Grotta Ferrata. At each end of the portico is fixed in the wall a fragment of basso relievo. One represents a philosopher sitting with a scroll in his hand, in a thinking posture—in the other, are four figures supporting the feet of a fifth of colossal size, supposed to represent Ajax. These, with the beautiful pillars which support the church, are the only remnants of the decorations and furniture of the ancient villa. ‘Conjiciant,’ says an inscription near the spot, ‘quÆ et quanta fuerunt.’429”
When CÆsar had attained the supremacy at Rome, and Cicero no longer gave law to the Senate, he became the head of a sort of literary or philosophical society. Filelfo, who delivered public lectures at Rome, on the Tusculan Disputations, attempted to prove that he had stated meetings of learned men at his house, and opened a regular Academy at Tusculum430. This notion was chiefly founded on a letter of Cicero to PÆtus, where he says that he had followed the example of the younger Dionysius, who, being expelled from Syracuse, taught a school at Athens. At all events, it was his custom, in the opportunities of his leisure, to carry some friends with him from Rome to the country, where the entertainments they enjoyed were chiefly speculative. In this manner, Cicero, on one occasion, spent five days at his Tusculan villa; and after [pg 239]employing the morning in declamation and rhetorical exercises, retired in the afternoon with his friends to the gallery, called the Academy, which he had constructed for the purpose of philosophical conference. Here Cicero daily offered to maintain a thesis on any topic proposed to him by his guests; and the five dialogues thus introduced, were, as we are informed by the author, afterwards committed to writing, nearly in the words which had actually passed431. They were completed early in 709, and, like so many of his other works, are dedicated to Brutus—each conference being at the same time furnished with an introduction expatiating on the excellence of philosophy, and the advantage of naturalizing the wisdom of the Greeks, by transfusing it into the Latin language. In the first dialogue, entitled De Contemnenda Morte, one of the guests, who is called the Auditor through the remainder of the performance, asserts, that death is an evil. This proposition Cicero immediately proceeds to refute, which naturally introduces a disquisition on the immortality of the soul—a subject which, in the pages of Cicero, continued to be involved in the same doubt and darkness that had veiled it in the schools of Greece.
It is true, that in the ancient world some notion had been entertained, and by a few some hope had been cherished, that we are here only in the infancy of our existence, and that the grave might be the porch of immortality, and not the goal of our career. The natural love that we have for life, amidst all its miseries—the grief that we sometimes feel at being torn from all that is dear to us—the desire for posterity and for posthumous fame—the humiliating idea, that the thoughts which wander through eternity, should be the operations of a being destined to flutter for a moment on the surface of the earth, and then for ever to be buried in its bosom—all, in short, that is selfish, and all that is social in our nature, combined in giving importance to the inquiry, If the thinking principle was to be destroyed by death, or if that great change was to be an introduction to a future state of existence. Having thus a natural desire for the truth of this doctrine, the philosophers of antiquity anxiously devised arguments, which might justify their hopes. Sometimes they deduced them from metaphysical speculations—the spirituality, unity, and activity of the soul—sometimes from its high ideas of things moral and intellectual. Is it possible, they asked, that a being of such excellence should be here imprisoned for a term of years, only to be the sport of the few pleasures and the many pains which [pg 240]chequer this mortal life? Is not its future destination seen in that satiety and disrelish, which attend all earthly enjoyments—in those desires of the mind for things more pure and intellectual than are here supplied—in that longing and endeavour, which we feel after something above us, and perfective of our nature? At other times, they have found arguments in the unequal distribution of rewards and punishments; and in our sighs over the misfortunes of virtue, they have recognized a principle, which points to a future state of things, where that shall be discovered to be good which we now lament as evil, and where the consequences of vice and virtue shall be more fully and regularly unfolded, than in this inharmonious scene. They have then looked abroad into nature, and have seen, that if death follows life, life seemingly emanates from death, and that the cheerful animations of spring succeed to the dead horrors of winter. They have observed the wonderful changes that take place in some sentient beings—they have considered those which man himself has undergone—and, charmed by all these speculations, they have indulged in the pleasing hope, that our death may, like our birth, be the introduction to a new state of existence. But all these fond desires—all these longings after immortality, were insufficient to dispel the doubts of the sage, or to fill the moralist with confidence and consolation. The wisest and most virtuous of the philosophers of antiquity, and who most strongly indulged the hope of immortality, is represented by an illustrious disciple as expressing himself in a manner which discloses his sad uncertainty, whether he was to be released from the tomb, or for ever confined within its barriers.
In the age of Cicero, the existence of a world beyond the grave was still covered with shadows, clouds, and darkness. “Whichsoever of the opinions concerning the substance of the soul be true,” says he, in his first Tusculan Disputation, “it will follow, that death is either a good, or at least not an evil—for if it be brain, blood, or heart, it will perish with the whole body—if fire, it will be extinguished—if breath, it will be dissipated—if harmony, it will be broken—not to speak of those who affirm that it is nothing; but other opinions give hope, that the vital spark, after it has left the body, may mount up to Heaven, as its proper habitation.”
Cicero then proceeds to exhaust the whole Platonic reasoning for the soul’s immortality, and its ascent to the celestial regions, where it will explore and traverse all space—receiving, in its boundless flight, infinite enjoyment. From his system of future existence, Cicero excludes all the gloomy fables feigned of the descent to Avernus, the pale murky re[pg 241]gions, the sluggish stream, the gaunt hound, and the grim boatman. But even if death is to be considered as the total extinction of sense and feeling, our author still denies that it should be accounted an evil. This view he strongly supports, from a consideration of the insignificance of those pleasures of which we are deprived, and beautifully illustrates, from the fate of many characters distinguished in history, who, by an earlier death, would have avoided the greatest ills of life. Had Metellus died sooner, he would not have laid his sons on the funeral pile—had Pompey expired, when the inhabitants of all Italy were decked with wreaths and garlands, as testimonies of joy for his restoration to health from the fever with which he was seized in Campania, he would not have taken arms unprepared for the contest, nor fled his home and country; nor, having lost a Roman army, would he have fallen on a foreign shore by the sword of a slave432. He completes these illustrations by reference to his own misfortunes; and the arguments which he deduced from them, received, in a few months, a strong and melancholy confirmation.—“Etiam ne mors nobis expedit? qui et domesticis et forensibus solatiis ornamentisque privati, certe, si ante occidissemus, mors nos a malis, non a bonis abstraxisset.”
The same unphilosophical guest, who had asserted that death was a disadvantage, and whom Cicero, in charity to his memory, does not name, is doomed, in the second dialogue, De Tolerando Dolore, to announce the still more untenable proposition, that pain is an evil. But Cicero demonstrated, that its sufferings may be overcome, not by remembrance of the silly Epicurean maxims,—“Short if severe, and light if long,” but by fortitude and patience; and he accordingly censures those philosophers, who have represented pain in too formidable colours, and reproaches those poets, who have described their heroes as yielding to its influence.
In the third book, De Ægritudine Lenienda, the author treats of the best alleviations of sorrow. To foresee calamities, and be prepared for them, is either to repel their assaults, or to mitigate their severity. After they have occurred, we ought to remember, that grieving is a folly which cannot avail us, and that misfortunes are not peculiar to ourselves, but are the common lot of humanity. The sorrow of which Cicero here treats, seems chiefly that occasioned by deprivation of friends and relatives, to which the recent loss of his daughter Tullia, [pg 242]and the composition of his treatise De Consolatione, had probably directed his attention.
The fourth book treats De Reliquis animi Perturbationibus, including all those passions and vexations, which the author considers as diseases of the soul. These he classes and defines—pointing out, at the same time, the remedy or relief appropriate to each disquietude. In the fifth book, in which he attempts to prove that virtue alone is sufficient for perfect felicity—Virtutem ad beate vivendum se ips esse contentam—he coincides more completely with the opinions of the Stoics, than in his work De Finibus, where he seems to assent, to the Peripatetic doctrine, “that though virtue be the chief good, the perfection of the other qualities of nature enters into the composition of supreme happiness.”
In these Tusculan Disputations, which treat of the subjects most important and subservient to the happiness of life, the whole discourse is in the mouth of Tully himself;—the Auditor, whose initial letter some editors have whimsically mistaken for that of Atticus, being a mere man of straw. He is set up to announce what is to be represented as an untenable proposition: but after this duty is performed, no English hearer or Welsh uncle could have listened with less dissent and interruption. The great object of Cicero’s continued lectures, is by fortifying the mind with practical and philosophical lessons, adapted to the circumstances of life, to elevate us above the influence of all its passions and pains.
The first conference, which is intended to diminish the dread of death, is the best; but they are all agreeable, chiefly from the frequent allusion to ancient fable, the events of Greek and Roman history, and the memorable sayings of heroes and sages. There is something in the very names of such men as Plato and Epaminondas, which bestows a sanctity and fervour on the page. The references also to the ancient Latin poets, and the quotations from their works, particularly the tragic dramas, give a beautiful richness to the whole composition; and even on the driest topics, the mind is relieved by the recurrence of extracts characteristic of the vigour of the Roman Melpomene, who, though unfit, as in Greece,
long trod the stage with dignity and elevation.
Paradoxa.—This tract contains a defence of six peculiar opinions or paradoxes of the Stoics, somewhat of the description of those which Cato was wont to promulgate in the Senate. These are, that what is morally fitting (honestum) is [pg 243]alone good,—that the virtuous can want nothing for complete happiness—that there are no degrees in crimes or good actions—that every fool is mad—that the wise alone are wealthy—that the wise man alone is free, and that every fool is a slave. These absurd and quibbling positions the author supports, in a manner certainly more ingenious than philosophical. The Paradoxa, indeed, seem to have been written as a sort of exercise of rhetorical wit, rather than as a serious disquisition in philosophy; and each paradox is personally applied or directed against an individual. There is no precision whatever in the definitions; the author plays on the ambiguity of the words, bonum and dives, and his arguments frequently degenerate into particular examples, which are by no means adequate to support his general proposition.
De Natur Deorum.—Of the various philosophical works of Cicero, the most curious perhaps, and important, is that on the Nature of the Gods. It is addressed to Brutus, and is written in dialogue. This form of composition, besides the advantages already pointed out, is peculiarly fitted for subjects of delicacy and danger, where the author dreads to expose himself to reproach or persecution. On this account chiefly it seems to have been adopted by the disciples of Socrates. That philosopher had fallen a victim to popular fury,—to those imputations of impiety which have so often and so successfully been repeated against philosophers. In the schools of his disciples, a double doctrine seems to have been adopted for the purpose of escaping persecution, and Plato probably considered the form of dialogue as best calculated to secure him from the imputations of his enemies. It was thus, in later times, that Galileo endeavoured to shield himself from the attacks of error and injustice, and imagined, that by presenting his conclusions in the Platonic manner, he would shun the malignant vigilance of the Court of Inquisition433.
In the dialogue De Natur Deorum, the author presents the doctrines of three of the most distinguished sects among the ancients—the Epicureans, the Stoics, and the Academics—on the important subject of the Nature of the Divine Essence, and of Providence. He introduces three illustrious persons of his country, each elucidating the tenets of the sect that he preferred, and contending for them, doubtless, with the chief arguments which the learning or talents of the author himself could supply. Cicero represents himself as hav[pg 244]ing gone to the house of C. Cotta the Pontifex Maximus, whom he found sitting in his study with C. Velleius, a Senator, who professed the principles of Epicurus, and Q. Lucilius Balbus, a supporter of the doctrines of the Stoics.—“As soon as Cotta saw me, ‘You are come,’ says he, ‘very seasonably, for I have a dispute with Velleius upon an important subject, in which, considering the nature of your studies, it is not improper for you to join.’—‘Indeed,’ said I, ‘I am come very seasonably, as you say, for here are three chiefs of the three principal sects met together.’ ” Cotta himself is a new Academic, and he proceeds to inform Cicero that they were discoursing on the nature of the gods, a topic which had always appeared to him very obscure, and that therefore he had prevailed on Velleius to state the sentiments of Epicurus upon the subject. Velleius is requested to go on with his arguments; and after recapitulating what he had already said, “with the confidence peculiar to his sect, dreading nothing so much as to seem to doubt about anything, he began, as if he had just then descended from the council of the gods434.”
The discourse of Velleius consists, in a considerable degree, of raillery and declamations directed against the doctrines of different sects, of which he enumerates a great variety, and which supposes in Cicero extensive philosophical erudition, or rather, perhaps, from the slight manner in which they are passed over, that he had taken his account of them from some ancient Diogenes Laertius, or Stanley435.—“I have hitherto,” says Velleius, “rather exposed the dreams of dotards than the opinions of philosophers; and whoever considers how rashly [pg 245]and inconsiderately their tenets are advanced, must entertain a veneration for Epicurus, and rank him in the number of those beings who are the subject of this dispute, for he alone first founded the existence of the gods, on the impression which nature herself hath made on the minds of men.”
Velleius having concluded his discourse, (the remainder of which can now have little interest as relating to the form of the gods and their apathy,) Cotta, after some compliments to him, enters on a confutation of what he had advanced; and, while admitting that there are gods, he pronounces the reasons given by Velleius for their existence to be altogether insufficient. He then proceeds to attack the other positions of Velleius, with regard to the form of the gods, and their exemption from the labours of creation and providence. His arguments against Anthropomorphism are excellent; and in reply to the hypothesis of Epicurus concerning the indolence of the gods, he inquires, “What reason is there that men should worship the gods, when the gods, as you say, not only do not regard men, but are entirely careless of everything, and absolutely do nothing? But they are, you say, of so glorious a nature, that a wise man is induced by their excellence to adore them. Can there be any glory in that nature, which only contemplates its own happiness, and neither will do, nor does, nor ever did anything? Besides, what piety is due to a being from whom you receive nothing, or how are you indebted to him who bestows no benefits?”
When Cotta has concluded his refutation of Velleius, with which the first book closes, Balbus is next requested to give the sentiments of the Stoics, on the subject of the gods, to which, making a slight excuse, he consents. His first argument for their existence, after shortly alluding to the magnificence of the world, and the prevalence of the doctrine, is “the frequent appearance of the gods themselves. In the war with the Latins,” he continues, “when A. Posthumius, the Dictator, attacked Octavius Mamilius, the Tusculan, at Regillus, Castor and Pollux were seen fighting in our army on horseback, and since that time the same offspring of Tyndarus gave notice of the defeat of Perseus; for P. Vatienus, grandfather of the present youth of that name, coming in the night to Rome, from his government of Reate, two young men on white horses appeared to him, and told him King Perseus was that day taken prisoner. This news he carried to the Senate, who immediately threw him into prison, for speaking inconsiderately on a state affair; but when it was confirmed by letters from Paullus, he was recompensed by the Senate with land and exemption. The voices of the Fauns have been often heard, and [pg 246]deities have appeared in forms so visible, that he who doubts must be hardened in stupidity or impiety.”
Balbus, after farther arguing for the existence of the gods, from events consequent on auguries and auspices, proceeds to what is more peculiarly the doctrine of the Stoics. He remarks,—“that Cleanthes, one of the most distinguished philosophers of that sect, imputes the idea of the gods implanted in the minds of men, to four causes—The first is, what I just now mentioned, a pre-knowledge of future things: The second is, the great advantages we enjoy from the temperature of the air, the fertility of the earth, and the abundance of various kinds of benefits: The third is, the terror with which the mind is affected by thunder, tempests, snow, hail, devastation, pestilence, earthquakes, often attended with hideous noises, showers of stones, and rain like drops of blood. His fourth cause,” continues Balbus, “and that the strongest, is drawn from the regularity of the motion, and revolution of the heavens, the variety, and beauty, and order of the sun, moon, and stars; the appearance only of which is sufficient to convince us they are not the effects of chance; as when we enter into a house, a school, or court, and observe the exact order, discipline, and method therein, we cannot suppose they are so regulated without a cause, but must conclude there is some one who commands, and to whom obedience is paid; so we have much greater reason to think that such wonderful motions, revolutions, and order of those many and great bodies, no part of which is impaired by the vast infinity of age, are governed by some intelligent being.”
This argument is very well stated, but Balbus, in a considerable degree, weakens its effect, by proceeding to contend, that the world, or universe itself, (the stoical deity,) and its most distinguished parts, the sun, moon, and stars, are possessed of reason and wisdom. This he founds partly on a metaphysical argument, and partly on the regularity, beauty, and order of their motions.
Balbus, after various other remarks, enters on the topic of the creation of the world, and its government by the providence of the gods. He justly observes, that nothing can be more absurd than to suppose that a world, so beautifully adorned, could be formed by chance, or by a fortuitous concourse of atoms436. “He who believes this possible,” says he, “may [pg 247]as well believe, that if a great number of the one-and-twenty letters, composed either of gold, or any other metal, were thrown on the ground, they would fall into such order as legibly to form the Annals of Ennius. I doubt whether fortune could make a single verse of them.” He quotes a very beautiful passage from a now lost work of Aristotle, in which that philosopher urges the argument that may be deduced from providential design, with more soundness and imagination than are usual with him. Balbus then proceeds to display the marks of deliberate plan in the universe, beginning with astronomy. In treating of the constellations, he makes great use of Cicero’s poetical version of Aratus, much of which he is supposed, perhaps with little probability, or modesty in the author, to have by heart; and, accordingly, we are favoured with a considerable number of these verses. He also adduces manifold proofs of design and sovereign wisdom, from a consideration of plants, land animals, fishes, and the structure of the human body; a subject on which Cicero discovers more anatomical knowledge than one should have expected. Balbus also contends that the gods not only provide for mankind universally, but for individuals. “The frequent appearances of the gods,” he observes, “demonstrate their regard for cities and particular men. This, indeed, is also apparent from the foreknowledge of events, which we receive either sleeping or waking.”
Cicero makes Balbus, in the conclusion of his discourse, express but little confidence in his own arguments.—“This is almost the whole,” says he, “that has occurred to my mind, on the nature of the gods, and that I thought proper to advance. Do you, Cotta, if I may advise, defend the same cause. Remember that in Rome you keep the first rank—remember you are Pontifex. It is a pernicious and impious custom, either seriously or seemingly to argue against the gods.”
In the third book of this very remarkable work, Cicero exhibits Cotta as refuting the doctrines of Balbus. “But before I enter on the subject,” says Cotta, “I have a word to say concerning myself; for I am greatly influenced by your authority, and your exhortation at the conclusion of your discourse, to remember I was Cotta, and Pontifex; by which, I presume, you intimated that I should defend the religion and ceremo[pg 248]nies which we received from our ancestors: Truly, I always have, and always will defend them, nor shall the arguments, either of the learned or unlearned, ever remove the opinions I have imbibed concerning the worship of the immortal gods. In matters of religion, I submit to the rules of the High Priests, T. Coruncanius, P. Scipio, and P. ScÆvola. These, Balbus,” continues he, “are my sentiments, both as a priest and Cotta. But you must bring me to your opinion by the force of your reason; for a philosopher should prove to me the religion he would have me embrace; but I must believe without proof the religion of our ancestors.”
The Pontifex thus professing to believe the existence of the gods merely on the authority of his ancestors, proceeds to ridicule this very authority. He represents the appearances of Castor and Pollux, and those others adduced by Balbus, as idle tales. “Do you take these for fabulous stories?” says Balbus. “Is not the temple built by Posthumius, in honour of Castor and Pollux, to be seen in the Forum? Is not the decree of the Senate concerning Vatienus still subsisting? Ought not such authorities to move you?”—“You oppose me,” replies Cotta, “with stories; but I ask reasons of you.”
A chasm here follows in the original, in which Cotta probably stated the reasons of his scepticism, in spite of the acts of the Senate, and so many public memorials of supernatural facts. “You believe,” continues Cotta, “that the Decii, in devoting themselves to death, appeased the gods. How great, then, was the iniquity of the gods, that they could not be appeased, but at the price of such noble blood!—As to the voice of the Fauns, I never heard it; if you assure me you have, I shall believe you; though I am absolutely ignorant what a Faun is. Truly, Balbus, you have not yet proved the existence of the gods. I believe it, indeed, but not from any arguments of the Stoics. Cleanthes, you said, attributes the idea that men have of the gods to four causes. The first is a foreknowledge of future events; the second,—tempests and other shocks of nature; the third,—the utility and plenty of things we enjoy; the fourth,—the invariable order of the stars and heavens. Foreknowledge I have already answered. With regard to tempests in the air, the sea, and the earth, I own, that many people are affrighted by them, and imagine that the immortal gods are the authors of them. But the question is not, whether there be people who believe there are gods, but whether there are gods or not. As to the two other causes of Cleanthes, one of which is derived from the plenty we enjoy, the other from the invariable order of the seasons and heavens, [pg 249]I shall treat on them when I answer your discourse concerning the providence of the gods.”
In the meantime, Cotta goes on to refute the Stoical notions with regard to the reason and understanding attributed to the sun, moon, and stars. He then proceeds to controvert, and occasionally to ridicule, the opinions entertained of numerous heathen gods; the three Jupiters, and other deities, and sons of deities.—“You call Jupiter and Neptune gods,” says he; “their brother Pluto, then, is one; Charon, also, and Cerberus, are gods, but that cannot be allowed. Nor can Pluto be placed among the deities; how then can his brothers?” Cotta next ridicules the Stoics for the delight they take in the explication of fables, and in the etymology of names; after which he says, “Let us proceed to the two other parts of our dispute. 1st, Whether there is a Divine Providence that governs the world? and, lastly, Whether that Providence particularly regards mankind? For these are the remaining propositions of your discourse.”
There follows a considerable hiatus in the original, so that we are deprived of all the arguments of Cotta on the proposition maintained by Balbus, that there is a Divine Providence which governs the world. At the end of this chasm, we find him quoting long passages from tragedies, and arguing against the advantages of reason, from the ill use which has been made of it. He then adduces a number of instances, drawn from history and observation, of fortunate vice, and of wrecked and ruined virtue, in order to overturn the doctrine of particular providence; contending, that as no family or state can be supposed to be formed with any judgment or discipline, if there are no rewards for good actions, or punishment for bad, so we cannot believe that a Divine Providence regulates the world, when there is no distinction between the honest and the wicked.
“This,” concludes Cotta, “is the purport of what I had to say concerning the nature of the gods, not with a design to destroy their existence, but merely to show what an obscure point it is, and with what difficulties an explanation of it is attended.” Balbus observing that Cotta had finished his discourse, “You have been very severe,” says he, “against the being of a Divine Providence, a doctrine established by the Stoics, with piety and wisdom; but, as it grows too late, I shall defer my answer to another day.”—“There is nothing,” replied Cotta, “I desire more than to be confuted.”—“The conversation ended here, and we parted. Velleius judged that the arguments of Cotta were the truest, but those of Balbus seemed to me to have the greater probability.”
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It seems likely that this profession or pretext, that the discourse is left unfinished, may (like the occasional apologies of Cotta) be introduced to save appearances437. It is evident, however, that Cicero intended to add, at least, new prefaces to the two latter books of this work, probably from suspecting, as he went on, that the discourses are too long to have taken place in one day, as they are now represented. Balbus says, in the second book, “Velut a te ipso, hesterno die dictum est438.” Fulvius Ursinus had remarked that this was an inadvertence, either in Cicero or a transcriber, as the discourse is continued throughout the same day. That it was not owing to a transcriber, or to any inadvertence in Cicero, but to a design of altering the introductions to the second and third books, appears from a passage in book third, where Cotta says to Balbus, “Omniaque, quÆ a te nudiustertius dicta sunt439.” Now, it is extremely unlikely that there should have been two such instances of inadvertency in the author, or carelessness in the copyist.
The work on the Nature of the Gods, though in many respects a most valuable production, and a convincing proof of the extensive learning of its author, gives a melancholy picture of the state of his mind. Unfitted to bear adversity, and borne down by the calamities of his country, and the death of his beloved daughter, (misfortunes of which he often complains,) Cicero seems to have become a sceptic, and occasionally to have doubted even of a superintending Providence. Warburton appears to be right in supposing, that Cicero was advanced in years before he seriously adopted the sceptical opinions of the new Academy. “This farther appears,” says he, after some remarks on this head, “from a place in his Nature of the Gods, where he says, that his espousing the new Academy of a sudden, was a thing altogether unlooked for440. The change, then, was late, and after [pg 251]the ruin of the republic, when Cicero retired from business, and had leisure in his recess to plan and execute this noble undertaking. So that a learned critic appears to have been mistaken, when he supposed the choice of the new Academy was made in his youth. ‘This sect,’ says he, ‘did best agree with the vast genius, and ambitious spirit, of young Cicero441.’ ”
It appears not, however, to have been, as Warburton supposes, altogether from a systematic plan, of explaining to his countrymen the philosophy of the Greeks, that Cicero became a sceptic; but partly from gloomy views of nature and providence. It seems difficult otherwise to account for the circumstance, that Cotta, an ancient and venerable Consul, the Pontifex of the metropolis of the world, should be introduced as contending, even against an Epicurean, for the non-existence of the gods. Lord Bolingbroke has justly remarked, “that Cotta disputes so vehemently, and his arguments extend so far, that Tully makes his own brother accuse him directly, and himself by consequence indirectly, of atheism.—‘Studio contra Stoicos disserendi deos mihi videtur funditus tollere.’ Now, what says Tully in his own name? He tells his brother that Cotta disputes in that manner, rather to confute the Stoics than to destroy the religion of mankind.—‘Magis quam ut hominum deleat religionem.’ But Quintus answers, that is, Tully makes him answer, he was not the bubble of an artifice, employed to save the appearance of departing from the public religious institutions. ‘Ne communi jure migrare videatur442.’ ” Cotta, indeed, goes so far in his attack on Providence, that Lord Bolingbroke, who is not himself a model of orthodoxy, takes up the other side of the question against the Roman Pontiff, and pleads the cause of Providence with no little reason and eloquence.443
In the foregoing analysis, or abridgment of the work on the Nature of the Gods, it will have been remarked, that two chasms occur in the argument of Cotta. Olivet enters into some discussion with regard to the latter and larger chasm. “I cannot,” says he, “see any justice in the accusation against the primitive Christians, of having torn this passage out of all the MSS. What appearance is there, that through a pious motive they should have erased this any more than many others in the same book, which they must undoubtedly have looked upon [pg 252]as no less pernicious?” Olivet seems inclined to suspect the Pagans; but, in my opinion, the chasms in the discourse of Cotta, if not accidental, are to be attributed rather to Christian than pagan zeal. Arnobius, indeed, speaking of this work, says, That many were of opinion that it ought to have been destroyed by the Roman Senate, as the Christian faith might be approved by it, and the authority of antiquity subverted444. There is no evidence, however, that any such destruction or mutilation was attempted by the Pagans; and we find that the satire directed against the heathen deities has been permitted to remain, while the chasms intervene in portions of the work, which might have been supposed by a pious zealot, to bear, in some measure, against the Christian, as well as the Pagan faith. In the first of them, the Pontifex begins, and is proceeding to contend, that in spite of Acts of the Senate, temples, statues, and other commemorations of miraculous circumstances, all such prodigies were nothing but mere fables, however solemnly attested, or generally believed. Now, the transcriber might fear, lest a similar inference should be drawn by the sceptic, to that which has in fact been deduced by the English translator of this work, in the following passage of a note:—“Hence we see what little credit ought to be paid to facts, said to be done out of the ordinary course of nature. These miracles are well attested: They were recorded in the annals of a great people—believed by many learned and otherwise sagacious persons, and received as religious truths by the populace; but the testimonies of ancient records, the credulity of some learned men, and the implicit faith of the vulgar, can never prove that to have been, which is impossible in the nature of things ever to be.” At the beginning of the other and larger chasm, Cotta was proceeding to argue against the proposition of the Stoics, that there is a Divine Providence which governs the world. Now, there is a considerable analogy between the system of the ancient Stoics, and the Christian scheme of Providence, both in the theoretical doctrine, and in the practical inference, of the propriety of a cheerful and unqualified submission to the chain of events—to the dispensations of nature in the Stoical, and of God in the purer doctrine. To Christian zeal, therefore, rather than to pagan prudence, we must attribute the two chasms which now intervene in the discourse of Cotta.
In the remarks which have been now offered on this work, De Natur Deorum, I trust I have brought no unfounded or [pg 253]uncharitable accusation against Cicero. He was a person, at least in his own age and country, of unrivalled talents and learning—he was a great, and, on the whole, a good man—but his mind was sensitive, and feeble against misfortune. There are Æras, and monuments perhaps in every Æra, when we are ready to exclaim with Brutus, “That virtue is an empty name:” And the doubts and darkness of such a mind as that of Cicero, enriched with all the powers of genius, and all the treasures of philosophy, afford a new proof of the necessity for the appearance of that Divine Messenger, who was then on the eve of descending upon earth.
De Divinatione.—The long account which has been given of the dialogue on the Nature of the Gods, renders it unnecessary to say much on the work De Divinatione. This treatise may be considered, in some measure, as a supplement to that De Natur Deorum. The religion of the Romans consisted of two different branches—the worship of the gods, and the observation of the signs by which their will was supposed to be revealed. Cicero having already discussed what related to the nature and worship of the gods, a treatise on Divination formed a natural continuation of the subject445. In his work on this topic, which was one almost peculiar to the Romans, Cicero professes to relate the substance of a conversation held at Tusculum with his brother, in which Quintus, on the principles of the Stoics, supported the credibility of divination, while Cicero himself controverted it. The dialogue consists of two books, the first of which comprehends an enumeration by Quintus of the different kinds or classes of divination, with the reasons or presumptions in their favour. The second book contains a refutation by Cicero of his brother’s arguments.
Quintus, while walking with his brother in the Lyceum at Tusculum, begins his observations by stating, that he had read the third book which Cicero had lately written, on the Nature of the Gods, in which Cotta seemed to contend for atheism, but had by no means been able to refute Balbus. He remarks, at the same time, that the subject of divination had not been treated of in these books, perhaps in order that it might be separately discussed more fully, and that he would gladly, if his brother had leisure and inclination, state his own opinions on the subject. The answer of Cicero is very noble.—“Ego vero, inquam, PhilosophiÆ, Quinte, semper [pg 254]vaco. Hoc autem tempore, quum sit nihil aliud quod libenter agere possim multo magis aveo audire de divinatione quid sentias.”
Quintus, after observing that divinations of various kinds have been common among all people, remarks, and afterwards frequently repeats, that it is no argument against different modes of divination, that we cannot explain how or why certain things happen. It is sufficient, that we know from experience and history, that they do happen446. He contends that Cicero himself supports the doctrine of divination, in the poem on his Consulship, from which he quotes a long passage, sufficient to console us for the loss of that work. He argues, that although events may not always succeed as predicted, it does not follow that divination is not an art, more than that medicine is not an art, because cures may not always be effected. In the course of this book we have a complete account of the state contrivances which were practised by the Roman government, to instil among the people those hopes and fears whereby it regulated public opinion, in which view it has been justly termed a chapter in the history of man. The great charm, however, of the first book, consists in the number of histories adduced by Quintus, in proof of the truth of different kinds of omens, dreams, portents, and divinations.—“Negemus omnia,” says he, “comburamus annales.” He states various circumstances consistent with his and his brother’s own knowledge; and, among others, two remarkable dreams, one of which had occurred to Cicero, and one to himself. He asks if the Greek history be also a fable.—“Num etiam GrÆcorum historia mentita est?” and, in short, throughout takes the following high ground:—“Quid est, igitur, cur dubitandum sit, quin sint ea, quÆ disputavi, verissima? Si ratio mecum facit, si eventa, si populi, si nationes, si GrÆci, si barbari, si majores etiam nostri, si summi philosophi, si poetÆ, et sapientissimi viri qui res publicas constituerunt, qui urbes condiderunt; si denique hoc semper ita putatum est: an dum bestiÆ loquantur, expectamus, hominum consentiente auctoritate, contenti non sumus447?”
The second book of this work is introduced by a preface, in which Cicero enumerates the philosophical treatises which he had lately written. He then proceeds to state, that at the conclusion of the discourse of Quintus, which was held while they were walking in the Lyceum, they sat down in the library, and he began to reply to his brother’s arguments. His commencement is uncommonly beautiful.—“Atque ego; Accurate tu [pg 255]quidem, inquam, Quinte, et Stoice Stoicorum sententiam defendisti: quodque me maxime delectat, plurimis nostris exemplis usus es, et iis quidem claris et illustribus. Dicendum est mihi igitur ad ea, quÆ sunt a te dicta, sed ita, nihil ut affirmem, quÆram omnia, dubitans plerumque, et mihi ipse diffidens448.” It is unnecessary to give any summary of the arguments of Cicero against auguries, auspices, astrology, lots, dreams, and every species of omens and prodigies. His discourse is a masterpiece of reasoning; and if sufficiently studied during the dark ages of Europe, would have sufficed, in a great degree, to have prevented or dispelled the superstitious gloom. Nothing can be finer than the concluding chapter on the evils of superstition, and Cicero’s efforts to extirpate it, without injuring religion. The whole thread, too, of his argumentative eloquence, is interwoven and strengthened by curious and interesting stories. As a specimen of the agreeable manner in which these are introduced, the twenty-fourth chapter may be cited:—“Vetus autem illud Catonis admodum scitum est, qui mirari se aiebat, quod non rideret haruspex, haruspicem quum vidisset. Quota enim quÆque res evenit prÆdicta ab ipsis? Aut si evenit quippiam, quid afferri potest, cur non casu id evenerit? Rex Prusias, quum Annibali apud eum exsulanti depugnari placeret, negabat se audere, quod exta prohiberent. An tu, inquit, carunculÆ vitulinÆ mavis, quam imperatori veteri, credere? Quid? Ipse CÆsar, quum a summo haruspice moneretur, ne in Africam ante brumam transmitteret, nonne transmisit? Quod ni fecisset, uno in loco omnes adversariorum copiÆ convenissent. Quid ego haruspicum responsa commemorem, (possum equidem innumerabilia,) quÆ aut nullos habuerunt exitus, aut contrarios? Hoc civili bello, Dii Immortales! Quam multa luserunt—quÆ nobis in GrÆciam Rom responsa haruspicum missa sunt? QuÆ dicta Pompeio? Etenim ille admodum extis et ostentis movebatur. Non lubet commemorare, nec vero necesse est, tibi prÆsertim, qui interfuisti. Vides tamen, omnia fere contra, ac dicta sunt, evenisse.” One great charm of all the philosophical works of Cicero, and particularly of this treatise, consists in the anecdotes with which they abound. This practice of intermingling histories, might have been partly owing to Tully’s habits as a pleader—partly to the works having been composed in “narrative old age.” His moral conclusions seem thus occasionally to have the certainty of physical experiments, by the support which they receive from occurrences, suggested to him by his wide experience; while, at the same time,—
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“His candid style, like a clean stream doth slide,
De Fato.—This tract, which is the last of Cicero’s philosophical works, treats of a subject which occupied as important a place in the metaphysics and theology of the ancients, as free will and necessity have filled in modern speculation. The dialogue De Fato is held in the villa of Cicero, called the Puteolan or the Academia, which was situated on the shore of BaiÆ, between the lake Avernus and the harbour of Puteoli. It stood in the curve of the bay, and almost on the beach, so as to enjoy the breezes and murmurs of the sea. The house was built according to the plan of the Academy at Athens, being adorned with a portico and grove, for the purposes of philosophical conference450; and with a gallery, which surrounded a square court in the centre. “Twelve or thirteen arches of the Puteolan villa,” says Mr Kelsall, “are still seen on the side next the vineyard, and, intermixed as they are with trees, are very picturesque seen from the sea. These ruins are about one mile from Pozzuolo, and have always been styled l’Academia di Cicerone. Pliny is very circumstantial in the description of the site, ‘Ab Averno lacu Puteolos tendentibus imposita littori.’ The classical traveller will not forget that the Puteolan villa is the scene of some of the orator’s philosophical works. I searched in vain for the mineral spring commemorated by Laurea Tullius, in the well-known complimentary verses preserved by Pliny; for it was defaced by the convulsions which the whole of this tract experienced in the 16th century, so poetically described in Gray’s hexameters.” After the death of Cicero, the villa was acquired by Antistius Vetus, who repaired and improved it. It was subsequently possessed by the Emperor Hadrian, who, while expiring here451, breathed out the celebrated address to his fleeting, fluttering soul, on its approaching departure for those cold and pallid regions, that must have formed in his fancy such a gloomy contrast to the glowing sunshine and animated shore which he left with so much reluctance.
The dialogue is held between Cicero and Hirtius, on one of the many occasions on which they met to consult concerning the situation of public affairs. Hirtius was the author of [pg 257]the Commentaries on the Civil Wars, and perished a few months afterwards, at the battle of Modena, in the moment of victory. The wonderful events which had recently occurred, and the miserable fate of so many of the greatest and most powerful of the Romans, naturally introduced a conversation on destiny. We have now neither the commencement nor conclusion of the dialogue; but some critics have supposed that it originally consisted of two books, and that the fragment we at present possess formed part of the second book—an opinion which seems justified by a passage in the seventeenth chapter of the second book, where the first conversation is cited. Others, however, refer these words to a separate and previous work on Fate. The part of the dialogue now extant, contains a refutation of the doctrine of Chrysippus the Stoic, which was that of fatality. “The spot,” says Eustace, “the subject, the speakers, both fated to perish in so short a time, during the contest which they both foresaw, and endeavoured in vain to avert, were circumstances which give a peculiar interest to this dialogue, and increase our regret that it has not reached us in a less mutilated state452.”
I have now enumerated what may be strictly regarded as the philosophical and theological writings of Cicero. Some of the advantages to be derived from these productions, have already been pointed out during our progress. But on a consideration of the whole, it is manifest that the chief profit accruing from them, is the satisfactory evidence which they afford of the little reason we have to regret the loss of the writings of Zeno, Cleanthes, Chrysippus, and other Greek philosophers. The intrinsic value of these works of Cicero, consists chiefly in what may be called the Roman portion of them—in the anecdotes of distinguished Romans, and of the customs and opinions of that sovereign people.
We now proceed to the moral writings of Cicero, of which the most important is the work De Officiis. The ancient Romans had but an imperfect notion of moral obligations; their virtues were more stern than amiable, and their ardent exclusive patriotism restricted the wide claims of philanthropy, on the one hand, and of domestic duties, on the other. PanÆtius, a Greek philosopher, who resided at Rome, in the time of Scipio, wrote a book entitled ?e?? ?a?????t??. He divided his subject according to the threefold considerations which he conceived should operate in determining our resolutions with regard to the performance of moral duties; 1. Whether the thing itself be virtuous or shameful; 2. Whether it conduce to [pg 258]utility and the enjoyment of life; 3. What choice is to be made when an apparent utility seems to clash with virtue. Cicero followed nearly the same arrangement. 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, justice, fortitude, and decorum; which four qualities are referred to as the constituent parts of virtue, and the sources from which all our duties are drawn. In the second book, the author enlarges on those duties which relate to utility, the improvement of life, and the means employed for the attainment of wealth and power. This division of the work principally regards political advancement, and the honourable means of gaining popularity, as generosity, courtesy, and eloquence. Thus far Cicero had, in all probability, closely followed the steps of PanÆtius. Garve, in his commentary on this work453, remarks, that it is quite clear, when he comes to the more subtle and philosophic parts of his subject, that Cicero 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 of PanÆtius, however, was left imperfect, and did not treat of the third part of the subject, the choice and distinction to be made when there was a jarring or inconsistency between virtue and utility. On this topic, accordingly, Cicero was left to his own resources. The discussion, of course, relates only to the subordinate duties, as the true and undoubted honestum never can 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 affords some rules to enable us to form a just estimate of both in cases of doubt, where seeming utility comes into competition with virtue. Accordingly, he proposes and decides a good many questions in casuistry, in order to fix in what situations one may seek private gain with honour. He takes his examples from Roman history, and particularly considers the case of Regulus in the obligation of his oath, and the advice which he gave to the Roman Senate. The author disclaims having been indebted to any preceding writers on this subject; but it appears, from what he afterwards states, that the sixth book of the work of Hecato, a scholar of PanÆtius, was full of ques[pg 259]tions of this kind: As, for example—If something must be thrown into the sea to lighten a vessel in a storm, whether one should sacrifice a valuable horse, or a worthless slave? Whether, if, during a shipwreck, a fool has got hold of a plank, a wise man ought to take it from him, if he be able? If one, unknowingly, receives bad money for his goods, may he pay it away to a third hand, after he is aware that it is bad? Diogenes, it seems, one of the three philosophic ambassadors who came to Rome from Athens, in the end of the sixth century, maintained the affirmative of this last proposition.
The subject being too extensive for dialogue, (the form of his other philosophical treatises,) the author has addressed the work De Officiis 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 duties454; but it is generally considered to have been chiefly drawn up as a manual of political morality, and as a guide to young Romans of his son’s age and distinction, which might enable them to attain political eminence, and to tread with innocence and safety “the slippery steeps of power.”
De Senectute.——
The treatise De Senectute is not properly a dialogue, but a continued discourse, delivered by Cato the Censor, at the request of Scipio and LÆlius. It is, however, one of the most interesting pieces of the kind which have descended to us from antiquity; and no reader can wonder that Cicero experienced such pleasure in its composition, that the delightful employment, not only, as he says, made him forget the infirmities of old age, but rendered that portion of existence agreeable. In consequence of the period of life 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 penned with peculiar interest and feeling. It was written by him in his 63d year, and is addressed to his friend Atticus, (who reached the same term of existence,) with a view of rendering to both the accumulating burdens of age as [pg 260]light as possible. In order to give his precepts the greater force, he represents them as delivered by the elder Cato, (while flourishing in the eighty-fourth year of a vigorous and useful old age,) on occasion of young Scipio and LÆlius expressing their admiration at the wonderful ease with which he still bore the load of life. This affords the author an opportunity of entering into a full explanation of his ideas on the subject. His great object is to show that the closing period of life may be rendered, not only tolerable, but comfortable, by internal resources of happiness. He reduces those causes which are commonly supposed to constitute the infelicity of advanced age, under four general heads:—That it incapacitates from mingling in the affairs of the world—that it produces infirmities of body—that it disqualifies for the enjoyment of sensual gratifications—and that it brings us to the verge of death. Some of these supposed disadvantages, he maintains, are imaginary, and for any real pleasures of which old men are deprived, others more refined and higher may be substituted. The whole work is agreeably diversified and illustrated by examples of eminent Roman citizens, who had passed a respected and agreeable evening of life. Indeed, so much is said of those individuals who reached a happy old age, that it may rather be styled a Treatise on Old Men, than on Old Age. On the last point, the near approach of death, it is argued, conformably to the first book of the Tusculan Questions, that if death extinguish the soul’s existence, it is utterly to be disregarded, but much to be desired, if it convey her to a happier region. The apprehension of future punishment, as in the Tusculan Disputations, is laid entirely aside, and it is assumed as a principle, that, after death, we either shall not be miserable, or be superlatively happy. In other respects, the tract De Senectute almost seems a confutation of the first book of the Tusculan Questions, which is chiefly occupied in showing the wretchedness of long-protracted existence. The sentiments put into the mouth of Cato, are acknowledged by Cicero as his own; but, notwithstanding this, and also a more elegant and polished style of composition than could be expected from the Censor, many characteristics of his life, conversation, and manners, are brought before us—his talk is a little boastful, and his sternness, though softened down by old age into an agreeable gossipping garrulity, is still visible; and, on the whole, the discourse is so managed, that we experience, in reading it, something of that complaisant respect, which we feel in intercourse with a venerable old man, who has around him so much of the life to [pg 261]come, as to be purified at least from the grosser desires of this lower world.
It has been remarked as extraordinary, that, amidst the anxious enumeration of the comforts of age, those arising from domestic society are not mentioned by Cicero; but his favourite daughter Tullia was now no more, and the husband of Terentia, the father of Marcus Cicero, and the father-in-law of Dolabella, may have felt something on that subject, of which he was willing to spare himself the recollection. But though he has omitted what we number among its chief consolations, still he has represented advanced age under too favourable a view. He denies, for instance, that the memory is impaired by it—asserting, that everything continues to be remembered, in which we take an interest, for that no old man ever forgot where he had concealed his treasure. He has, besides, only treated of an old age distinguished by deeds or learning, terminating a life great and glorious in the eyes of men. The table of the old man whom he describes, is cheered by numerous friends, and his presence, wherever he appears, is hailed by clients and dependants. All his examples are drawn from the higher and better walks of life. In the venerable picture of the Censor, we have no traces of second childhood, or of the slippered pantaloon, or of that melancholy and almost frightful representation, in the tenth satire of Juvenal. But even persons of the station, and dignity, and talents of Cato, are, in old age, liable to weaknesses and misfortunes, with which the pleasing portrait, that Tully has drawn, is in no way disfigured:—
“In life’s last scene, what prodigies surprise,
Fears of the brave, and follies of the wise!
From Marlborough’s eyes the tears of dotage flow,
And Swift expires a driveller and a show.”
The treatise De Senectute has been versified by Denham, under the title of Cato Major. The subject of the evils of old age is divided, as by Cicero, into four parts. “I can neither,” says he, in his preface, “call this piece Tully’s nor my own, being much altered from the original, not only by the change of the style, but by addition and subtraction.” In fact, the fine sentiments are Cicero’s—the doggerel English verse, into which he has converted Cicero’s classical prose, his own. The fourth part, on the approach of death, is that which is best versified.
This tract is also the model of the dialogue Spurinna, or the Comforts of Old Age, by Sir Thomas Bernard. Hough, Bishop of Worcester, who is in his ninetieth year at the date [pg 262]of the conference, supposed to be held in 1739, is the Cato of the dialogue. The other interlocutors are Gibson, Bishop of London, and Mr Lyttleton, subsequently Lord Lyttleton. After considering, in the same manner as Cicero, the disadvantages of old age, the English author proceeds to treat of its advantages, and the best mode of increasing its comforts. Many ideas and arguments are derived from Cicero; but among the consolations of advanced age, the promises of revelation concerning a future state of happiness, to which the Roman was a stranger, are prominently brought forward, and the illustrations are chiefly drawn from British, instead of Grecian or Roman history.
De AmicitiÂ.—In this, as in all his other dialogues, Cicero has most judiciously selected the persons whom he introduces as speakers. They were men of eminence in the state; and though deceased, the Romans had such a just veneration for their ancestors, that they would listen with the utmost interest even to the supposed conversation of the ancient heroes or sages of their country. Such illustrious names bestowed additional dignity on what was delivered, and even now affect us with sentiments of veneration far superior to that which is felt for the itinerant sophists, who, with the exception of Socrates, are the chief speakers in the dialogues of Plato.
The memorable and hereditary friendship which subsisted between LÆlius and the younger Scipio Africanus, rendered them the most suitable characters from whom the sentiments expressed on this delightful topic could be supposed to flow. Their mutual and unshaken attachment threw an additional lustre over the military glory of the one, and the contemplative wisdom of the other. “Such,” says Cicero in the introduction to the treatise De RepublicÂ, “was the common law of friendship between them, that LÆlius adored Africanus as a god, on account of his transcendent military fame; and that Scipio, when they were at home, revered his friend, who was older than himself, as a father456.” The kindred soul of Cicero appears to have been deeply struck with this delightful assemblage of all the noblest and loveliest qualities of our nature. The friendship which subsisted between himself and Atticus was another beautiful example of a similar kind: And the dialogue De Amiciti is accordingly addressed with peculiar propriety to Atticus, who, as Cicero tells him in his dedication, could not fail to discover his own portrait in the delineation of [pg 263]a perfect friend. This treatise approaches nearer to dialogue than that De Senectute, for there is a story, with the circumstances of time and place. Fannius, the historian, and Mucius ScÆvola, the Augur, both sons-in-law of LÆlius, paid him a visit immediately after the sudden and suspicious death of Scipio Africanus. The recent loss which LÆlius 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, while in his earliest youth, had been introduced by his father to Mucius ScÆvola; and hence, among other interesting matters which he enjoyed an opportunity of hearing, he was one day present while ScÆvola related the substance of the conference on Friendship, which he and Fannius had held with LÆlius a few days after the death of Scipio. Many of the ideas and sentiments which the mild LÆlius then uttered, are declared by ScÆvola to have originally flowed from Scipio, with whom the nature and laws of friendship formed a favourite topic of discourse. This, perhaps, is not entirely a fiction, or merely told to give the stamp of authenticity to the dialogue. Some such conversation was probably held and related; and I doubt not, that a few of the passages in this celebrated dialogue reflect the sentiments of LÆlius, or even of Africanus himself.
The philosophical works of Cicero, which have been hitherto enumerated, are complete, or nearly so. But it is well known that he was the author of many other productions which have now been entirely lost, or of which only fragments remain.
Of these, the most important was the Treatise De RepublicÂ, which, in the general wreck of learning, shared the fate of the institutions it was intended to celebrate. The greater part of this dialogue having disappeared along with the Origines of Cato, the works of Varro, and the History of Sallust, we have been deprived of all the writings which would have thrown the most light on the Roman institutions, manners, and government—of everything, in short, which philosophically traced the progress of Rome, from its original barbarism to the perfection which it had attained in the age of the second Scipio Africanus.
There are few monuments of ancient literature, of which the disappearance had excited more regret, than that of the work De RepublicÂ, which was long believed to have been the grand repository of all the political wisdom of the ancients. The great importance of the subject—treated, too, by a writer at once distinguished by his genius and former [pg 264]official dignity; the pride and predilection with which the author himself speaks of it, and the sublimity and beauty of the fragment entitled Somnium Scipionis, preserved from it by Macrobius, all concurred to exalt this treatise in the imagination of the learned, and to exasperate their vexation at its loss. The fathers of the church, particularly Lactantius, had afforded some insight into the arguments employed in it on different topics; several fragments existed in the works of the grammarians, and a complete copy was extant as late as the 11th century. Since that time the literary world have been flattered at different periods with hopes of its discovery; but it is only within the last few years that such a portion of it has been recovered, as may suffice, in a considerable degree, to satisfy curiosity, though not perhaps to fulfil expectation.
It is well known to many, and will be mentioned more fully in the Appendix, that owing to a scarcity of papyrus and parchment, it was customary, at different times, to erase old, in order to admit new, writing. To a MS. of this kind, the name of Palimpsest has been given—a term made use of by Cicero himself. In a letter to the lawyer Trebatius, who had written to him on such a sheet, Cicero says, “that while he must praise him for his parsimony in employing a palimpsest, he cannot but wonder what he had erased to scribble such a letter, except it were his law notes: For I cannot think,” adds he, “that you would efface my letter to substitute your own457.” This practice became very common in the middle ages, when both the papyrus and parchment were scarce, and when the classics were, with few exceptions, no longer the objects of interest. Montfaucon had remarked, that these obliterated MSS. were perhaps more numerous than those which had been written on for the first time458. But though in some cases the original writing was still visible on close observation, no practical use was made of such inspection till Angelo Mai published some fragments recovered from palimpsest MSS. in the Ambrosian library, of which he was keeper. Encouraged by his success, he persevered in this new pursuit, and published at intervals fragments of considerable value. At length, being called to Rome as a recompense for his learned labours, Mai prosecuted in the Vatican those noble researches which he had commenced at Milan; and it is to him we now owe the discovery and publication of a considerable portion of Cicero De RepublicÂ, which had been expunged, (it is supposed in [pg 265]the 6th century,) and crossed by a new writing, which contained a commentary by St Augustine on the Psalms459.
The work De Republic 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 Republic was dedicated. The beginning of the prooemium to the first book, which might have determined this point, is lost; but the author says, “Disputatio repetenda memori 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 Republic was dedicated to its author’s younger brother Quintus, who, as we know from the prooemium 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 exigu 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 grati subeundos, non prÆmiorum aut gloriÆ caus 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 coetus quoquo modo congregatus, sed coetus 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, me 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 public prÆstans et regale; esse aliud auctoritate principum partum ac tributum; esse quasdam res servatas judicio voluntatique multitudinis. HÆc constitutio primum habet Æqualitatem quamdam magnam, qu 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 ali 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 prooemium, 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:—
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 Glori—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 tog 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.”
In order to be satisfied as to the authenticity of the works commonly called Classical, it is important to ascertain in what manner they were given to the public by their respective authors—to trace how they were preserved during the long night of the dark ages—and to point out by whom their perishing remains were first discovered at the return of light. Nor will it be uninteresting to follow up this sketch by an enumeration of the principal Editions of the Classics mentioned in the preceding pages, and of the best Translations of them which, from time to time, have appeared in the Italian, French, and English languages.
The manuscripts of the Latin Classics, during the existence of the Roman republic and empire, may be divided into what have been called notata and perscripta. The former were those written by the author himself, or his learned slaves, in contractions or signs which stood for syllables and words; the latter, those which were fully transcribed in the ordinary characters by the librarius, who was employed by the bibliopolÆ, or booksellers, to prepare the productions of an author for public sale.
The books written in the hand of the authors were probably not very legible, at least if we may judge of others by Cicero. His brother Quintus had complained that he could not read his letters, and Cicero says in reply: “Scribis te meas literas superiores vix legere potuisse; hoc facio semper ut quicumque calamus in manus meas venerit, eo sic utar tamquam bono492.”
But the works,—at least the prose works,—of the Romans were seldom written out in the hand of the author, and were generally dictated by him to some slave or freedman instructed in penmanship. It is well known that many of the orations of Cicero, Cato, and their great rhetorical contemporaries, were taken down by short-hand writers stationed in the Senate or Forum. But even the works most carefully prepared in the closet were notata, in a similar manner, by slaves and freedmen. There was no part of his learned compositions on which Cicero took more pains, or about which his thoughts were more occupied493, than the dedication of the Academica to Varro, and even this he dictated to his slave Spintharus, though he did so slowly, word by word, and not in whole sentences to Tiro, as was his practice in his other productions. “Male mihi sit,” says he in a letter to Atticus, “si umquam quidquam tam enitar. Ergo ne Tironi quidem dictavi, qui totas periochas persequi solet, sed Spintharo syllabatim494.”
This practice of authors dictating their works created a necessity, or at least a conveniency, of writing with rapidity, and of employing contractions, or conventional marks, in almost every word.
Accordingly, from the earliest periods of Roman literature, words were contracted, or were signified by notes, which sometimes stood for more than one letter, sometimes for syllables, and at other times for whole words. Funccius, who main[pg A-4]tains that Adam was the first short-hand writer495, has asserted, with more truth, that the Romans contracted their words from the remotest ages of the republic, and to a greater degree than any other ancient nation. Sometimes the abbreviations consisted merely in writing the initial letter instead of the whole word. Thus P. C. stood for Patres Conscripti; C. R., for Civis Romanus; S. N. L., for Socii Nominis Latini. This sort of contraction being employed in words frequently recurring, and which in one sense might be termed public, and being also universally recognized, would rarely produce any misapprehension or mistake. But frequently the abbreviations were much more complex, and the leading letters of words in less common use being notata, the contractions became of much more difficult and dubious interpretation. For example, Meit. expressed meminit; Acus., Acerbus; Quit., quÆrit; Ror., Rhetor.
For the sake, however, of yet greater expedition in writing, and perhaps, in some few instances for the purpose of secrecy, signs or marks, which could be currently made with one dash or scratch with the stylus, and without lifting or turning it, came to be employed, instead of those letters which were themselves the abbreviations of words. Some writers have supposed that these signs were entirely arbitrary496, whilst others have, with more probability, maintained that their forms can be resolved or analysed into the figures, or parts of the figures, of the letters themselves which they were intended to represent, though they have often departed far from the shape of the original characters497. Ennius is said to have invented 1100 of these signs498, which he no doubt employed in his multifarious compositions. Others came into gradual use in the manual operation of writing with rapidity to dictation. Tiro, the favourite freedman of Cicero, greatly increased the number, and brought this sort of tachygraphy to its greatest perfection among the Romans. In consequence of this fashion of authors dictating their works, expedition came to be considered of the utmost importance; it was regarded as the chief accomplishment of an amanuensis; and he alone was considered as perfect in his art, whose pen could equal the rapidity of utterance:
Hic et scriptor erit felix, cui litera verbum est,
Quique notis linguam superet, cursumque loquentis,
These lines were written by a poet of the age of Augustus, and it appears from Martial500, Ausonius501, and Prudentius, that this system of dictation by the author, and rapid notation by his amanuensis, continued in practice during the later ages of the empire.
Such was the mode in which most of the writings of the ancients came originally from their authors, and were delivered to those friends who were desirous to possess copies, or to the booksellers to be perscripta, or transcribed, for publication.
There exists sufficient proof of the high estimation in which accurate transcriptions of the works of their own writers were held by the Romans. The correctness of printing, however, could not be expected. In the original notation, some mistakes might probably be made from carelessness of pronunciation in the author who dictated, and haste in his amanuensis; but the great source of errors in MSS. was the blunders made by the librarius in copying out from the noted exemplar. There was the greatest ambiguity and doubt in the interpretation, both of words contracted in the ordinary character and in the artificial signs. Sometimes the same word was expressed by different letters; thus MR. MT. MTR. all expressed Mater. Sometimes, on the other hand, the same set of letters expressed different words; for instance, ACT. signified Actor, Auctoritas, and Hactenus. The collocation of the letters was often inverted from the order in which they stood in the word when fully expressed; and frequently one letter had not merely its own power, but that of several [pg A-5]others. Thus AMO. signified animo, because M had there not only its own force, but, as its shape in some measure announces, the power of ni also. Matters were still worse, when not only abbreviations, but signs had been resorted to. These were variously employed by different writers, and were also differently interpreted by transcribers. Some of these signs were extremely similar in form: it was scarcely possible to discriminate the sign which denoted the syllable ab from that which expressed the syllable um; and the signs of the syllables is and it were nearly undistinguishable; while ad and at were precisely the same. The mark which expressed the word talis, being a little more sloped or inclined, expressed qualis; and the difference in the Tironian signs which stood for the complete words Ager and Amicus, was scarcely perceptible502.
The ancient Latin writers also employed a number of marks to denote the accents of words, and the quantities of syllables. The oldest writers, as Livius Andronicus and NÆvius, always placed two vowels when a syllable was to be pronounced long503. Attius, the great tragic author, was the first to relinquish this usage; and after his time, in conformity to the new practice which he had adopted, a certain mark was placed over the long vowels. When this custom also (which is stigmatised by Quintilian as ineptissimus504) fell into disuse, the mark was frequently misunderstood, and Funccius has given several examples of corruptions and false readings from the mistake of transcribers, who supposed that it was intended to express an m, an n, or other letters505.
In addition to all this, little attention was paid to the separation of words and sentences, and the art of punctuation was but imperfectly understood.
Finally, and above all, the orthography of Latin was extremely fluctuating and uncertain. We have seen, in an early part of this work, how it varied in the time of the republic, and it, in fact, never became fixed. Mai talks repeatedly, in his preface, of the strange inconsistencies of spelling in the Codex, which contained Cicero’s work De Republica; and Cassiodorus, who of all his contemporaries chiefly cultivated literature during the reign of the barbarians in Italy, often regrets that the ancient Romans had left their orthography encumbered with the utmost difficulties. “Orthographia,” says he, “apud GrÆcos plerumque sine ambiguitate probatur expressa; inter Latinos vero sub ardua difficultate relicta monstratur; unde etiam modo studium magnum lectoris inquiret.”
In consequence of this dictation to short-hand, and this uncertain orthography, we find that the corruption of the classics had begun at a very early period. The ninth Satire of Lucilius was directed against the ridiculous blunders of transcribers, and contained rules for greater correctness. Cicero, in his letters to his brother Quintus, bitterly complains of the errors of copyists,—“De Latinis vero, quo me vertam, nescio; ita mendose et scribuntur, et veneunt506.” Strabo says, that in his time booksellers employed ignorant transcribers, who neglected to compare what they wrote with the exemplar; which, he adds, has occurred in many works, copied for the purpose of being sold, both at Rome and Alexandria507. Martial, too, thus cautions his reader against the mistakes occasioned by the inaccuracy and haste of the venders of books, and the transcribers whom they employed:
“Si qua videbuntur chartis tibi, lector, in istis,
Aulus Gellius repeatedly complains of the inaccuracy of copies in his time: We learn from him, that the writings of the greatest Classics were already corrupted and falsified, not only by the casual errors of copyists, but by the deliberate perversions of critics, who boldly altered everything that was too elegant or poetical for their own taste and understanding509. To the numerous corruptions in the text of Sallust he particularly refers510.
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The practice, too, of abridging larger works, particularly histories, and extracting from them, was injurious to the preservation of MSS. This practice, occasioned by the scarcity of paper, began as early as the time of Brutus, who extracted even from the meagre annals of his country. These excerpts seldom compensated for the originals, but made them be neglected, and in consequence they were lost.
It seems also probable, that the destruction of the treasures of classical literature commenced at a very early period. Varro’s library, which was the most extensive private collection of books in Italy, was ruined and dispersed when his villa was occupied by Antony511; and some of his own treatises, as that addressed to Pompey on the duties of the Consulship, were irretrievably lost. Previous to the art of printing, books, in consequence of their great scarcity and value, were chiefly heaped up in public libraries. Several of these were consumed in the fire, by which so many temples were burned to the ground in the reign of Nero512, particularly the library in the temple of Apollo, on the Palatine Hill, which was founded by Augustus, and contained all the Roman poets and historians previous to his age. This literary establishment having been restored as far as was possible by Domitian, suffered a second time by the flames; and the extensive library of the Capitol perished in a fire during the reign of Commodus513. When it is considered, that at these periods the copies of Latin works were few, and chiefly confined within the walls of Rome, some notion may be formed of the extent of the loss sustained by these successive conflagrations.
From the portentous Æra of the death of Pertinax, the brief reign of each succeeding emperor ended in assassination, civil war, and revolution. The imperial throne was filled by soldiers of fortune, who came like shadows, and like shadows departed. Rome at length ceased to be the fixed and habitual residence of her sovereigns, who were now generally employed at a distance in the field, in repelling foreign enemies, or repressing usurpers. While it is certain, that during this period many of the finest monuments of the arts were destroyed, and some of the most splendid works of architecture defaced, it can hardly be supposed that the frail texture of the parchment, or papyrus, should have resisted the stroke of sudden ruin, or the gradual mouldering of neglect.
But the chief destruction took place after the removal of the seat of empire by Constantine. The loss of so many classical works subsequently to that Æra, has been attributed chiefly to the irruption of the northern barbarians; but it was fully as much owing to the blind zeal of the early Christians. Many of the public libraries were placed in temples, and hence were the more exposed to the fury of the proselytes to the new faith. This devastation began in Italy in the fourth century, before the barbarians had penetrated to the heart of the empire; and, in the same century, if Sulpicius Severus may be credited, Bishop Martin undertook a crusade against the temples of the Gauls514. St Augustine, St Jerome, and Lactantius, indeed, knew the classics well; but they considered them as a sort of forbidden fruit: and St Jerome, as he himself informs us, was whipped by an angel for perusing Plautus and Cicero515. The following or fifth century, was distinguished by the first capture of Rome, and its successive devastations by Alaric, Genseric, and Attila. In the latter part of the century, Milan, too, was plundered; which, next to Rome, was the chief repository of books in Italy.
Monachism, which, in its first institution, particularly in the east, had been so destructive of literary works, became, when more advanced in its progress, a chief cause of their preservation. When the monks were at length united, in a species of civil union, under the fixed rules of St Benedict, in the beginning of the sixth century, the institution contributed, if not to the diffusion of literature, at least to the preservation of literary works. There was no prohibition in the ordinances of St Benedict against the reading of classical writings, as in those of St Isidore: and the consequence was, that wherever any abbot, or even monk, had a taste for [pg A-7]letters, books were introduced into the convent. We have a remarkable example of this in the instance of Cassiodorus, whose genius, learning, and virtue, shed a lustre on one of the darkest periods of Italian history. After his pre-eminent services as minister of state during the reign of Theodoric, and regency of Amalasuntha, he retired, in the year 540, when he had reached the age of seventy, to the monastery of Monte Casino, situated in a most delightful spot, near the place of his birth, in Calabria. There he became as serviceable to literature as he had formerly been to the state; and the convent to which he betook himself deserves to be first mentioned in any future history of the preservation of the Classics. Before his entrance into it, he possessed an extensive library, with which he enriched the cloister516; and subsequently enlarged it by a collection of MSS., which he caused to be brought to him from various quarters of Italy. There is still extant his order to a monk to procure for him Albinus’ treatise on Music; which shows, that his collection was not entirely confined to theological treatises: while his work De Artibus ac Disciplinis liberalium Literarum, is an ample testimony of his classical learning, and of the value which he attached to it. His library contained, at least, Ennius, Terence, Lucretius, Varro, Cicero, and Sallust517. The monks of his convent were excited by him to the transcription of MSS.; and, in his work De Orthographia, he did not disdain to give minute directions for copying with facility and correctness.
Thus, in collecting an ample library—in diffusing copies of ancient MSS.—in verbal instructions, written lectures, and the composition of voluminous works—he closed, in the service of religion and learning, a long and meritorious life.
The example of Cassiodorus was followed in other convents. About half a century after his death, Columbanus founded a monastery of Benedictines at Bobbio, a town situated among the northern Apennines. This religious society, as Tiraboschi informs us, was remarkable, not only for the sanctity of its manners, but the cultivation of literature. It was fortunate that receptacles for books had now been thus provided, as otherwise the treasures of classical literature in Italy would, in all likelihood, have perished during the wars of Belisarius, and Narses, and the invasion of Totila. It is in the age of Cassiodorus,—that is, the beginning and middle of the sixth century,—that Tiraboschi places the serious and systematic commencement of the transcription of the classics518. He mentions the names of some of the most eminent copyists; but a fuller list had been previously furnished by Fabricius519.
In Gregory the Great, who was Pope at the end of the sixth and beginning of the seventh century, literature, according to popular belief, found an enemy in the west, as fatal to its interests as the Caliph Omar had been in the east. This pontiff was accused of burning a classical library, and also some valuable works, which had replaced those formerly consumed in the Palatine library. John of Salisbury is the sole authority for this charge; and even he, who lived six centuries after the age of Gregory, only mentions it as a tradition and report: “Fertur Beatus Gregorius bibliothecam combussisse gentilem, quo divinÆ paginÆ gratior esset locus, et major auctoritas, et diligentia studiosior520;” and again, “Ut traditur a majoribus, incendio dedit probatÆ lectionis scripta, Palatinus quÆcunque tenebat Apollo521.” Cardan informs us, that Gregory also caused the plays of NÆvius, Ennius, and Afranius, to be burned. That he suppressed the works of Cicero, rests on the authority of a passage in an edict published by Louis XI., dated 1473, and quoted by Lyron in his SingularitÉz Historiques522. St Antonius, who was Archbishop of Florence in the middle of the fifteenth century, is cited by Vossius as the most ancient author who has asserted that he burned the decades of Livy523. These charges have been strenuously supported by Brucker524, while Tiraboschi, on the other hand, has endeavoured to vindicate the memory of the pontiff from all such aspersions525. Bayle [pg A-8]has adopted a prudent neutrality526. Dendina527 and GinguenÉ528, the most recent authors who have touched on the subject, seem to consider the question, after all that has been written on it, as still doubtful, and not likely to receive any farther elucidation. It appears certain, that Gregory disliked classical, or profane literature, on account of the oracles, idolatry, and rites, with which it is associated, and that he prohibited its study by the clergy529;—whence may, perhaps, have originated the reports of his wilfully destroying the then surviving libraries and books of Rome.
During the course of the two centuries which followed the death of Gregory, Italy was divided between the Greeks and Lombards, and was torn by spiritual dissensions. The most numerous and barbarous swarm which had yet crossed the Alps was the Lombards, who descended on Italy, under their king, Alboinus, in 568, immediately after the death of Narses. It was no longer a tribe or army by which Italy was invaded; but a whole nation of old men, women, and children, covered its plains. This ignorant and ferocious race spread themselves from the Alps to Rome during the seventh and eighth centuries. And although Rome itself escaped the Lombard dominion, the horrors of a perpetual siege can alone convey an adequate idea of its distressed situation. The feuds of the Lombard chiefs, their wars with the Greeks, who still remained masters of Rome, and at length with the Franks, (all which contests were marked with fire and massacre,) made a desert of the Peninsular garden530. Hitherto the superstitious feelings of the northern hordes had inspired them with some degree of respect for the sacerdotal order which they found established in Italy. Reverence for the person of the priest had extended itself to the security of his property, and while the palace and castle were wrapt in flames, the convent escaped sacrilege. But the Lombards extended their fury to objects which their rude predecessors had generally respected; and learning was now attacked in her most vulnerable part. Amid the general destruction, the monasteries and their libraries were no longer spared; and with others, that of Monte Casino, one of the most valuable and extensive in Italy, was plundered by the Lombards531. Some books preserved in the sack of the libraries were carried back by these invaders to their native country, and a few were saved by monks, who sought refuge in other kingdoms, which accounts for the number of classical MSS. subsequently discovered in France and Germany532.
Amid the ruin of taste and letters in these ages, it is probable that but few new copies were made from the MSS. then extant. Some of the classics, however, were still spared, and remained in the monastic libraries. Anspert, who was Abbot of Beneventum, in the eighth century, declares that he had never studied Homer, Cicero, or Virgil, which implies, that they were still preserved, and accessible to his perusal533.
The division of Italy between the Lombards and Greeks continued till the end of the eighth century, when Charlemagne put an end to the kingdom of the former, and founded his empire. Whether this monarch himself had any pretensions to the character of a scholar, is more than doubtful; but whether he possessed learning or not, he was a generous patron of those who did. He assembled round his court such persons as were most distinguished for talents and erudition; he established schools and pensioned scholars; and he founded also a species of Academy, of which Alcuin was the head, and in which every one adopted a scriptural or classic appellation. This tended to multiply the MSS. of the classics, and many of them found a place in the imperial library mentioned by Eginhard. Charlemagne also established the monastery of Fulda, and, in consequence, copies of these MSS. found their way to Germany in the beginning of the ninth century534. The more recent Latin writers, as Boethius, Macrobius, and Capella, were chiefly popular in his age; but Virgil, [pg A-9]Cicero, and Livy, were not unknown. Alcuin’s poetical account of the library at York, founded by Archbishop Egbert, and of which he had been the first librarian, affords us some notion of the usual contents of the libraries at that time.—
“Illic invenies veterum vestigia patrum;
Quicquid habet pro se Latio Romanus in orbe,
GrÆcia vel quicquid transmisit clara Latinis.”
Then, after enumerating the works of all the Fathers which had a place in the library, he proceeds with his catalogue.—
“Historici veteres, Pompeius, Plinius, ipse
Acer Aristoteles rhetor, atque Tullius ingens;
Quid quoque Sedulius, vel quid canit ipse Juvencus,
Alcuinus, et Clemens Prosper, Paulinus orator;
Quid Fortunatus vel quid Lactantius edunt.
QuÆ Maro Virgilius, Statius, Lucanus et auctor,
Artis grammaticÆ vel quid scripsere magistri.”
But though there were libraries in other countries, Italy always contained the greatest number of classical MSS. In the ninth century, Lupus, who was educated at Fulda, and afterwards became Abbot of Ferrieres, a monastery in the Orleanois, requested Pope Benedict III. to send him Cicero de Oratore and Quintilian, of both of which he possessed parts, but had neither of them complete535; and in another letter he begs from Italy a copy of Suetonius536. The series of his letters gives us a favourable impression of the state of profane literature in his time. In his very first letter to Einhart, who had been his preceptor, he quotes Horace and the Tusculan Questions. Virgil is repeatedly cited in the course of his epistles, and the lines of Catullus are familiarly referred to as authorities for the proper quantities of syllables. Lupus did not confine his care to the mere transcription of MSS. He bestowed much pains on the rectification of the texts, as is evinced by his letter to Ansbald, Abbot of Prum, where he acknowledges having received from him a copy of the epistles of Cicero, which would enable him to correct the MSS. of them which he himself possessed537.
It was a rule in convents, that those who embraced the monasteric life should employ some hours each day in manual labour; but as all were not fit for those occupations which require much corporeal exertion, many of the monks fulfilled their tasks by copying MSS. Transcription thus became a favourite exercise in the ninth century, and was much encouraged by the Abbots538. In every great convent there was an apartment called the Scriptorium, in which writers were employed in transcribing such books as were deemed proper for the library. The heads of monasteries borrowed their classics from each other, and, having copied, returned them539.—By this means, books were wonderfully multiplied. Libraries became the constant appendages of cloisters, and in Italy existed nowhere else. We do not hear, during this period, of either royal or private libraries. There was little information among the priests or parochial clergy, and almost every man of learning was a member of a convent.
But while MSS. thus increased in the monasteries, there were, at the same time, during this century, many counteracting causes, which rendered them more scarce than they would otherwise have been. During the Norman invasion, the convents were the chief objects of plunder. From the time, too, of the conquest of Alexandria by the Saracens, in the seventh century, when the Egyptian papyrus almost ceased to be imported into Europe, till the close of the tenth, when the art of making paper from cotton rags seems to have been introduced, there were no materials for writing except parchment, a substance too expensive to be readily spared for mere purposes of literature540. The scarcity of paper, too, not only prevented the increase [pg A-10]of classical MSS., but occasioned the loss of some which were then in existence, from the characters having been deleted, in order to make way for a more favourite production. The monkish scribes were accustomed to peel off the surface of parchment MSS., or to obliterate the ink by a chemical process, for the purpose of fitting them to receive the works of some Christian author; so that, by a singular and fatal metamorphosis, a classic was frequently translated into a vapid homily or monastic legend. That many valuable works of antiquity perished in this way, is evinced by the number of MSS. which have been discovered, evidently written on erased parchments. Thus the fragments of Cicero’s Orations, lately found in the Ambrosian library, had been partly obliterated, to make room for the works of Sedulius, and the Acts of the Council of Chalcedon; and Cicero’s treatise de Republica had been effaced, in order to receive a commentary of St Augustine on the Psalms.
The tenth century has generally been accounted the age of deepest darkness in the west of Europe. During its course, Italy was united by Otho I. with the German empire, and was torn by civil dissensions. Muratori gives a detailed account of the plundering of Italian convents, which was the consequence of these commotions, and of the irruption of the Huns in 899541. Still, however, Italy continued to be the great depository of classical MSS.; and in that country they were occasionally sought with the utmost avidity. Gerbert, who became Pope in the last year of the tenth century, by name of Silvester II., spared neither pains nor expense in procuring transcriptions of MSS. This extraordinary man, impelled by a thirst of science, had left his home and country at an early period of life: He had visited various nations of Europe, but it was in Spain, then partly subject to the Arabs, that he had chiefly obtained an opportunity of gratifying his mathematical talent, and desire of general information. Being no less ready to communicate than eager to acquire learning, he founded a school on his return to Italy, and greatly increased the library at Bobbio, in Lombardy, to the abbacy of which he had been promoted. While Archbishop of Rheims, in France, that kingdom experienced the effects of his enlightened zeal. During his papacy, obtained for him by his pupil Otho III., he persevered in his love of learning. In his generosity to scholars, and his expenditure of wealth for the employment of copyists, as well as for exploring the repositories in which the mouldering relics of ancient learning were yet to be found, we trace a liberality, bordering on profusion.—“Nosti,” says he, in one of his epistles to the monk Rainaldo, “quanto studio librorum exemplaria undique conquiram; nosti quot scriptores in urbibus, aut in agris ItaliÆ passim habeantur. Age ergo, et te solo conscio, ex tuis sumptibus fac ut mihi scribantur Manilius de Astronomia, et Victorinus. Spondeo tibi, et certum teneo quod, quicquid erogaveris, cumulatim remittam542.” Having by this means exhausted Italy, Silvester directed his researches to countries beyond the Alps, as we perceive from his letter to Egbert, Abbot of Tours.—“Cui rei preparandÆ bibliothecam assidue comparo; et sicut RomÆ dudum, et in aliis partibus ItaliÆ, in GermaniÀ quoque, et BelgicÀ, scriptores auctorumque exemplaria multitudine nummorum redemi; adjutus benevolentia et studio amicorum comprovincialium: sic identidem apud vos per vos fieri sinite ut exorem. Quos scribi velimus, in fine epistolÆ designabimus543.” This list, however, is not printed in any of the editions of Gerbert’s Letters, which I have had an opportunity of consulting.
It thus appears that there were zealous researches for the classics, and successful discoveries of them, long before the age of Poggio, or even of Petrarch; but so little intercourse existed among different countries, and the monks had so little acquaintance with the treasures of their own libraries, that a classical author might be considered as lost in Italy, though familiar to a few learned men, and still lurking in many of the convents.
Gerbert, previous to his elevation to the Pontificate, had, as already mentioned, been Abbot of Bobbio; and the catalogue which Muratori has given of the library in that convent, may be taken as an example of the description and extent of the classical treasures contained in the best monastic libraries of the tenth century. While the collection, no doubt, chiefly consists of the works of the saints and fathers, we find Persius, Valerius Flaccus, and Juvenal, contained in one volume. [pg A-11]There are also enumerated in the list Cicero’s Topica, and his Catilinarian orations, Martial, parts of Ausonius and Pliny, the first book of Lucretius, four books of Claudian, the same number of Lucan, and two of Ovid544. The monastery of Monte Casino, which was the retreat, as we have seen, of Cassiodorus, was distinguished about the same period for its classical library.—“The monks of Casino, in Italy,” observes Warton, “were distinguished before the year 1000, not only for their knowledge of the sciences, but their attention to polite learning, and an acquaintance with the classics. Their learned Abbot, Desiderius, collected the best of the Roman writers. This fraternity not only composed learned treatises on music, logic, astronomy, and the Vitruvian architecture, but likewise employed a portion of their time in transcribing Tacitus, Jornandes, Ovid’s Fasti, Cicero, Seneca, Donatus the grammarian, Virgil, Theocritus, and Homer.”
During the eleventh century, the Benedictines having excited scandal by their opulence and luxury, the Carthusian and Cistertian orders attracted notice and admiration, by a self-denying austerity; but they valued themselves not less than the Benedictines, on the elegance of their classical transcriptions; and about the same period, translations from the Classics into the Lingua volgare, first commenced in Italy.
At the end of the eleventh century, the Crusades began; and during the whole course of the twelfth century, they occupied the public mind, to the exclusion of almost every other object or pursuit. Schools and convents were affected with this religious and military mania: All sedentary occupations were suspended, and a mark of reproach was affixed to every undertaking which did not promote the contagion of the times.
About the middle of the thirteenth century, and after the death of the Emperor Frederic II., Italy was for the first time divided into a number of petty sovereignties, unconnected by any system of general union, except the nominal allegiance still due to the Emperor. This separation, while it excited rivalry in arms, also created some degree of emulation in learning. Many Universities were established for the study of theology and the exercise of scholastic disputation; and though the classics were not publicly diffused, they existed within the walls of the convent, and were well known to the learned men of the period. Brunetto Latini, the teacher of Dante, and author of the Tesoro, translated into Italian several of Cicero’s orations, some parts of his rhetorical works, and considerable portions of Sallust545. Dante, in his Amoroso Convito, familiarly quotes Livy, Virgil, and Cicero de Officiis; and Mehus mentions various translations of Seneca, Ovid, and Virgil, which had been executed in the age of Dante, and which he had seen in MSS. in the different libraries of Italy546.
It was Petrarch, however, who, in the fourteenth century, led the way in drawing forth the classics from the dungeons where they had been hitherto immured, and holding up their light and glory to the eyes of men. While enjoying the reputation of having perfected the most melodious and poetical language of Europe, Petrarch has acquired a still higher title to fame, by his successful exertions in rousing his country from a slumber of ignorance which threatened to be eternal. In his earliest youth, instead of the dry and dismal works which at that time formed the general reading, he applied himself to the reading of Virgil and Cicero; and when he first commenced his epistolary correspondence, he strongly expressed his wish that their fame should prevail over the authority of Aristotle and his commentators; and declared his belief of the high advantages the world would enjoy if the monkish philosophy should give place to classical literature. Petrarch, as is evinced by his letters, was the most assiduous recoverer and restorer of ancient MSS. that had yet existed. He was an enthusiast in this as he was in every thing else that merited enthusiasm—love, friendship, glory, patriotism, and religion. He never passed an old convent without searching its library, or knew of a friend travelling into those quarters [pg A-12]where he supposed books to be concealed, without entreaties to procure for him some classical MS. It is evident that he came just in time to preserve from total ruin many of the mouldering remains of classical antiquity, and to excite among his countrymen a desire for the preservation of those treasures when its gratification was on the very eve of being rendered for ever impracticable. He had seen, in his youth, several of Cicero’s now lost treatises, and Varro’s great work Rerum Divinarum et Humanarum547, which has forever disappeared from the world; and it is probable that had not some one, endued with his ardent love of letters, and indefatigable research, arisen, many similar works which we now enjoy, would soon have sunk into a like oblivion.
About the same period, Boccaccio also collected several Latin MSS., and copied such as he could not purchase. He transcribed so many of the Latin poets, orators, and historians, that it would appear surprising had a copyist by profession performed so much. In a journey to Monte Casino, a place generally considered as remarkably rich in MSS., he was both astonished and afflicted to find the library exiled from the monastery into a barn, which was accessible only by a ladder. He opened many of the books, and found much of the writing effaced by damp. His grief was redoubled when the monks told him, that when they wanted money, they erased an ancient writing, wrote psalters and legends on the parchment, and sold the new MSS. to women and children548.
But though, in the fourteenth century, copies of the classics were multiplied and rendered more accessible to the world, and though a few were made by such hands as those of Petrarch and Boccaccio, the transcriptions in general were much less accurate than those of a former period. The Latin tongue, which had received more stability than could otherwise have been expected, from having been consecrated in the service of the church, had now at length become a dead language, and many of the transcribers did not understand what they wrote. Still more mistakes than those produced by ignorance, were occasioned by the presumption of pretenders to learning, who were often tempted to alter the text, in order to accommodate the sense to their own slender capacity and defective taste. Whilst a remedy has been readily found for the gross oversight or neglect of the ignorant and idle, in substituting one letter for another, or inserting a word without meaning, errors affecting the sense of the author, which were thus introduced, have been of the worst species, and have chiefly contributed to compose that mass of various readings, on which the sagacity of modern scholars has been so copiously exercised. In a passage of Coluccio Salutati’s treatise De Fato, published by the AbbÉ Mehus, the various modes in which MSS. were depraved by copyists are fully pointed out549. To such extent had these corruptions proceeded, that Petrarch, talking of the MSS. of his own time, and those immediately preceding it, asks, “Quis scriptorum inscitiÆ medebitur, inertiÆque corrumpenti omnia ac miscenti? Non quÆro jam aut queror Orthographiam, quÆ jam dudum interiit; qualitercunque utinam scriberent quod jubentur. An si redeat Cicero aut Livius, ante omnes Plinius Secundus, sua scripta religentes intelligent?” So sensible was Coluccio Salutati of the injury which had been done to letters by the ignorance or negligence of transcribers, that he proposed, as a check to the evil, that public libraries should be every where formed, the superintendence of which should be given to men of learning, who might carefully collate the MSS. intrusted to them, and ascertain the most correct readings550. To this labour, and to the detection of counterfeit works, of which many, from various motives, now began to be circulated, Coluccio devoted a considerable portion of his own time and studies. His plan for the institution of public libraries did not succeed; but he amassed a private one, which, in that age, was second only to the library of Petrarch. A considerable classical library, though consisting chiefly of the later classics, particularly Seneca, Macrobius, Apuleius, and Suetonius, was amassed by Tedaldo de Casa, whose books, with many remarks and emendations in his own hand, were inspected by the AbbÉ Mehus in the library of Santa-Croce at Florence551.
The path which had been opened up by Petrarch, Boccaccio, and Coluccio Salutati, in the fourteenth century, was followed out in the ensuing century with wonderful assiduity and success by Poggio Bracciolini, Filelfo, and Ambrosio Traver[pg A-13]sari, Abbott of Camaldoli, under the guidance and protection of the Medicean Family and Niccolo Niccoli.
Of all the learned men of his time, Poggio seems to have devoted himself with the greatest industry to the search for classical MSS. No difficulties in travelling, or indifference in the heads of convents to his literary inquiries, could damp his zeal. His ardour and exertions were fortunately crowned with most complete success. The number of MSS. discovered by him in different parts of Europe, during the space of nearly fifty years, will remain a lasting proof of his unceasing perseverance, and of his sagacity in these pursuits. Having spent his youth in travelling through different countries, he at length settled at Rome, where he continued as secretary, in the service of eight successive Pontiffs. In this capacity he, in the year 1414, accompanied Pope John XXIII. to the Council of Constance, which was opened in that year. While residing at Constance, he made several expeditions, most interesting to letters, in intervals of relaxation during the prosecutions of Jean Hus and Jerome of Prague, of which he had the official charge. His chief excursion was to the monastery of St Gal, about twenty miles distance from Constance, where his information led him to expect that he might find some MSS. of the ancient Roman writers552. The earliest Abbots, and many of the first monks of St Gal, had been originally transferred to that monastery from the literary establishment founded by Charlemagne at Fulda. Werembert and Helperic, who were sent to St Gal from Fulda in the ninth century, introduced in their new residence a strong taste for letters, and the practice of transcribing the classics. In examining the Histoire Litteraire de la France, by the Benedictines, we find that no monastery in the middle ages produced so many distinguished scholars as St Gal. In this celebrated convent, which, (as Tenhove expresses it) had been so long the Dormitory of the Muses, Poggio discovered some of the most valuable classics,—not, however, in the library of the cloister, but covered with dust and filth, and rotting at the bottom of a dungeon, where, according to his own account, no criminal condemned to death would have been thrown553. This evinces that whatever care may at one time have been taken of classical MSS. by the monks, they had subsequently been shamefully neglected.
The services rendered to literature by Ambrosio of Camaldoli were inferior only to those of Poggio. Ambrosio was born at Forli in 1386, and was a disciple of Emanuel Chrysoloras. At the age of fourteen, he entered into the convent of Camaldoli at Florence, and thirty years afterwards became the Superior of his order. In the kind conciliatory disposition of Ambrosio, manifested by his maintaining an uninterrupted friendship with Niccolo Niccoli, Poggio, and Filelfo, and by moderating the quarrels of these irascible Literati—in his zeal for the sacred interests, discipline, and purity of his convent, to which his own moral conduct afforded a spotless example—and, finally, in his enthusiastic love of letters, in which he was second only to Petrarch, we behold the brightest specimen of the monastic character, of which the memory has descended to us from the middle ages. Though chiefly confined within the limits of a cloister, Ambrosio had perhaps the best pretensions of any man of his age, to the character of a polite scholar. The whole of the early part of his life, and the leisure of its close, were employed in collecting ancient MSS. from every quarter where they could be procured, and in maintaining a constant correspondence with the most distinguished men of his age. His letters which have been published in 1759, at Florence, with a long preface and life by the AbbÉ Mehus, contain the fullest information that can be any where found with regard to the recovery of ancient classical MSS. and the state of literature at Florence in the fifteenth century.
It would appear from these Epistles, that though the monks had been certainly instrumental in preserving the precious relics of classical antiquity, their avarice and bigotry now rather obstructed the prosecution of the researches undertaken for the purpose of bringing them to light. It was their interest to keep these treasures to themselves, because it was a maxim of their policy to impede the diffusion of knowledge, and because the transcription of MSS. was to them a source of considerable emolument. Hence they often threw obstacles in the way of the inquiries of the learned, who were obliged to have recourse to various artifices, in order to draw classical MSS. from the recesses of the cloister554.
[pg A-14]
The exertions of Poggio and Ambrosio, however, were stimulated and aided by the munificent patronage of many opulent individuals of that period, who spared no expense in reimbursing and rewarding those who had made successful researches after these favourite objects of pursuit. “To such an enthusiasm,” says Tiraboschi, “was this desire carried, that long journeys were undertaken, treasures were levied, and enmities were excited, for the sake of an ancient MS.; and the discovery of a book was regarded as almost equivalent to the conquest of a kingdom.”
The most zealous promoters of these researches, and most eager collectors of MSS. during the fifteenth century, were the Cardinal Ursini, Niccolo Niccoli and the Family of Medici.
Niccolo Niccoli, who was an humble citizen of Florence, devoted his whole time and fortune to the acquisition of ancient MSS. In this pursuit he had been eminently successful, having collected together 800 volumes, of which a great proportion contained Roman authors. Poggio, in his funeral oration of Niccolo, bears ample testimony to his liberality and zeal, and attributes the successful discovery of so many classical MSS. to the encouragement which he had afforded. “Quod autem,” says he, “egregiam laudem meretur, summam operam, curamque adhibuit ad pervestigandos auctores, qui culp temporum perierant. Qu in re verÈ possum dicere, omnes libros fere, qui noviter tum ab aliis reperti sunt, tum a me ipso, qui integrum Quintilianum, Ciceronis nostri orationes, Silium Italicum, Marcellinum, Lucretii partem, multosque prÆterea e Germanorum Gallorumque ergastulis, me diligenti eripui, atque in lucem extuli, Nicholai suasu, impulsu, cohortatione, et pÆne verborum molesti esse Latinis literis restitutos555.” Several of these classical works Niccolo copied with his own hand, and with great accuracy, after he had received them556. The MSS. in his hand-writing were long known and distinguished by the beauty and distinctness of the characters. Nor did he content himself with mere transcription: He diligently employed himself in correcting the errors of the MSS. which were transmitted to him, and arranging the text in its proper order. “Quum eos auctores,” says Mehus, “ex vetustissimis codicibus exscriberet, qui suo potissimum consilio, aliorum vero oper inventi sunt, non solum mendis, quibus obsiti erant, expurgavit, sed etiam distinxit, capitibusque locupletavit557.” Such was the judgment of Niccolo, in this species of emendation, that Politian always placed the utmost reliance on his MS. copies558; and, indeed, from a complimentary poem addressed to him in his own time, it would seem that he had carefully collated different MSS. of the same work, before he transcribed his own copy—
Previous to the time of Niccolo, the only libraries of any extent or value in Italy, were those of Petrarch, Coluccio Salutati, and Boccaccio. The books which had belonged to Petrarch and Coluccio, were sold or dispersed after the decease of their illustrious possessors. Boccaccio’s library had been bequeathed by him to a religious order, the Hermits of St Augustine; and this library was repaired and arranged by Niccolo, for the use of the convent, and a proper hall built for its reception559. Niccolo was likewise the first person in modern times who conceived the idea of forming a public library. Previous to his death, which happened in 1437, he directed that his books should be devoted to the use of the public; and for this purpose he appointed sixteen curators, among whom was Cosmo de Medici. After his demise, it appeared that he was greatly in debt, and that his liberal intentions were likely to be frustrated by the insolvency of his circumstances. Cosmo therefore offered to his associates, that if they would resign to him the exclusive right of the disposal of the books, he would himself discharge all the debts of Niccolo, to which proposal they readily acceded. Having thus obtained the sole direction of the MSS., he deposited them for public use in the Dominican Monastery of St Marco, at Florence, which he had himself erected at an enormous expense560. This library, for some time celebrated under the name of the Bibliotheca Marciana, or library of St Marc, was [pg A-15]arranged and catalogued by Tommaso da Sarzana Calandrino, at that time a poor but zealous scholar in the lower orders of the clergy, and afterwards Pope, by the name of Nicholas V. The building which contained the books of Niccolo having been destroyed by an earthquake in 1454, Cosmo rebuilt it on such a plan, as to admit a more extensive collection. After this it was enriched by private donations from citizens of Florence, who, catching the spirit of the reigning family, vied with each other in the extent and value of their gifts561.
When Cosmo, having finally triumphed over his enemies, was recalled from banishment, and became the first citizen of Florence, “which he governed without arms or a title,” he employed his immense wealth in the encouragement of learned men, and in collecting, under his own roof, the remains of the ancient Greek and Roman writers. His riches, and extensive mercantile intercourse with different parts of Europe and Asia, enabled him to gratify a passion of this kind beyond any other individual. He gave injunctions to all his friends and correspondents, to search for and procure ancient MSS., in every language, and on every subject. From these beginnings arose the celebrated library of the Medici, which, in the time of Cosmo, was particularly distinguished for MSS. of Latin classics—possessing, in particular, full and accurate copies of Virgil, Cicero, Seneca, Ovid, and Tibullus562. This collection, after the death of its founder, was farther enriched by the attention of his descendants, particularly his grandson, Lorenzo, under whom it acquired the name of the Medicean-Laurentian Library. “If there was any pursuit,” says the biographer of Lorenzo, “in which he engaged more ardently, and persevered more diligently, than the rest, it was in that of enlarging his collections of books and antiquities. His emissaries were dispersed through every part of the globe, for the purpose of collecting books, and he spared no expense in procuring, for the learned, the materials necessary for the prosecution of their studies563.” In the execution of his noble design, he was assisted by Ermolao Barbaro, and Paulo Cortesi; but his principal coadjutor was Politian, to whom he committed the care and arrangement of his collection, and who made excursions, at intervals, through Italy, to discover and purchase such remains of antiquity as suited the purposes of his patron. An ample treasure of books was expected, during his last illness, under the care of Lascaris. When the vital spark was nearly extinguished, he called Politian to his side, and grasping his hand, told him he could have wished to have lived to see the library completed564.
After the death of Lorenzo, some of the volumes were dispersed, when Charles VIII. of France invaded Italy; and, on the expulsion of the Medici family from Florence, in 1496, the remaining volumes of the Laurentian collection were united with the books in the library of St Mark.
It being the great object of Lorenzo to diffuse the spirit of literature as extensively as possible, he permitted the Duke of Urbino, who particularly distinguished himself as a patron of learning, to copy such of his MSS. as he wished to possess. The families, too, of Visconti at Milan, of Este at Ferrara, and Gonzaga at Mantua, excited by the glorious example set before them, emulated the Medici in their patronage of classical literature, and formation of learned establishments. “The division of Italy,” says Mr Mills, “into many independent principalities, was a circumstance highly favourable to the nourishing and expanding learning. Every city had a MÆcenas sovereign. The princes of Italy rivalled each other in literary patronage as much as in political power, and changes of dominion did not affect letters565.” Eight Popes, in succession, employed Poggio as their secretary, which greatly aided the promotion of literature, and the collecting of MSS. at Rome. The last Pontiff he served was Nicholas V., who, before his elevation, as we have seen, had arranged the library of St Mark at Florence. From his youth he had shown the most wonderful avidity for copies of ancient MSS., and an extraordinary turn for elegant [pg A-16]and accurate transcription, with his own hand. By the diligence and learning which he exhibited in the schools of Bologna, he secured the patronage of many literary characters. Attached to the family of Cardinal Albergati, he accompanied him in several embassies, and seldom returned without bringing back with him copies of such ancient works as had been previously unknown in Italy. The titles of some of these are mentioned by his biographer, who adds, that there was no Latin author, with whose writings he was unacquainted. This enabled him to be useful in the arrangement of many libraries formed at this period566. His promotion to the Pontifical chair, in 1447, was, in the circumstances of the times, peculiarly auspicious to the cause of letters. With the assistance of Poggio, he founded the library of the Vatican. The scanty collection of his predecessors had been nearly dissipated or destroyed, by frequent removals from Rome to Avignon: But Nicholas more than repaired these losses; and before his death, had collected upwards of 5000 volumes of Greek and Roman authors—and the Vatican being afterwards increased by Sixtus IV. and Leo X. became, both in extent and value, the first library in the world.
It is with Poggio, that the studies peculiar to the commentator may be considered as having commenced, at least so far as regards the Latin classics. Poggio lived from 1380 to 1459. He was succeeded towards the close of the fifteenth century, and during the whole course of the sixteenth, by a long series of Italian commentators, among whom the highest rank may be justly assigned to Politian.—(Born, 1454–died, 1494.) To him the world has been chiefly indebted for corrections and elucidations of the texts of Roman authors, which, from a variety of causes, were, when first discovered, either corrupt, or nearly illegible. In the exercise of his critical talents, Politian did not confine himself to any one precise method, but adopted such as he conceived best suited his purpose—on some occasions only comparing different copies, diligently marking the variations, rejecting spurious readings, and substituting the true. In other cases he proceeded farther, adding scholia and notes, illustrative of the text, either from his own conjecture, or the authority of preceding writers. To the name of Politian, I may add those of his bitter rival and contemporary, Georgius Merula, (born, 1420–died, 1494); Aldus Manutius, (1447–1516); his son Paullus; Landini, author of the Disputationes Camaldulenses, (1424–1504); Philippus Beroaldus, (1453–1505); Petrus Victorius, (1498–1585); Robortellus, (1516–1567). Most of these commentators were entirely verbal critics; but this was by far the most useful species of criticism which could be employed at the period in which they lived. We have already seen, that in the time of Petrarch, classical manuscripts had been very inaccurately transcribed; and, therefore, the first great duty of a commentator, was to amend and purify the text. Criticisms on the general merits of the author, or the beauties of particular passages, and even expositions of the full import of his meaning, deduced from antiquities, mythology, history, or geography, were very secondary considerations. Nor, indeed, was knowledge far enough advanced at the time, to supply such illustrations. Grammar, and verbal criticism, formed the porch by which it was necessary to enter that temple of sublimity and beauty which had been reared by the ancients; and without this access, philosophy would never have enlightened letters, or letters ornamented philosophy. “I cannot, indeed, but think,” says Mr Payne Knight, in his Analytical Essay on the Greek Alphabet, “that the judgment of the public, on the respective merits of the different classes of critics, is peculiarly partial and unjust. Those among them who assume the office of pointing out the beauties, and detecting the faults, of literary composition, are placed with the orator and historian, in the highest ranks, whilst those who undertake the more laborious task of washing away the rust and canker of time, and bringing back those forms and colours, which are the objects of criticism, to their original purity and brightness, are degraded with the index-maker and antiquary among the pioneers of literature, whose business it is to clear the way for those who are capable of more splendid and honourable enterprizes. Nevertheless, if we examine the effects produced by those two classes of critics, we shall find that the first have been of no use whatever, and that the last have rendered the most important services to mankind. All persons of taste and understanding know, from their own feelings, when to approve and disapprove, and therefore stand in no need of instructions from the critic. But [pg A-17]whatever may be the taste or discernment of a reader, or the genius and ability of a writer, neither the one nor the other can appear while the text remains deformed by the corruptions of blundering transcribers, and obscured by the glosses of ignorant grammarians. It is then that the aid of the verbal critic is required; and though his minute labour in dissecting syllables and analysing letters may appear contemptible in its operation, it will be found important in its effect.” It is to those early critics, then, who washed away the rust and canker of time, and brought back those forms and colours which are the subject of criticism, that classical literature has been chiefly indebted. The newly discovered art of printing, which was itself the offspring of the general ardour for literary improvement, and of the daily experience of difficulties encountered in prosecuting classical studies, contributed, in an eminent degree, to encourage this species of useful criticism. At the instigation of Lorenzo, and other patrons of learning in Italy, many scholars in that country were induced to bestow their attention on the collation and correction of the MSS. of ancient authors, in order that they might be submitted to the press with the greatest possible accuracy, and in their original purity. Nor was it a slight inducement to the industrious scholar, that his commentaries were no longer to be hid in the recesses of a few vast libraries, but were to be now placed in the view of mankind, and enshrined, as it were, for ever in the immortal page of the poet or historian whose works he had preserved or elucidated.
With Fulvius Ursinus, who died in the year 1600, the first school of Italian commentators may be considered as terminating. In the following century, classical industry was chiefly directed to translation; and in the eighteenth century, the list of eminent commentators was increased only by the name of Vulpius, who introduced a new style in classical criticism, by an amusing collection of verses, both in ancient and modern poets, which were parallel to passages in his author, not merely in some words, but in the poetical idea.
The career which had so gloriously commenced in Italy in the end of the fifteenth century, was soon followed in France and Germany. Julius Scaliger, a native of Verona, had been naturalized in France, and he settled there in the commencement of the sixteenth century. In that country classical studies were introduced, under the patronage of Francis I., and were prosecuted in his own and the six following reigns, by a long succession of illustrious scholars, among whom Turnebus (1512–1565), Lambrinus (1526–1572), the family of the Stephenses, who rivalled the Manutii of Italy, Muretus (1526–1585), Casaubon (1559–1614), Joseph Scaliger (1540–1609), and Salmasius (1588–1653), distinguished themselves by the illustration of the Latin classics, and the more difficult elucidation of those studies which assist and promote a full intelligence of their meaning and beauties. Our geographical and historical knowledge of the ancient world, was advanced by Charles Stephens—its chronology was ascertained by Scaliger, and the whole circle of antiquities was extended by Salmasius. After the middle of the seventeenth century, a new taste in the illustration of classical literature sprung up in France—a lighter manner and more philosophic spirit being then introduced. The celebrated controversy on the comparative merit of the ancients and moderns, aided a more popular elucidation of the classics; and as the preceptors of the royal family were on the side of the ancients, they promoted the famed Delphin edition, which commenced under the auspices of the Duke De Montausier, and was carried on by a body of learned Jesuits, under the superintendence of Bossuet and Huetius. Elegance and taste were required for the instruction of a young French Prince; and accordingly, instead of profound philological learning, or the assiduous collation of MSS., light notes were appended, explanatory of the mythological and historical allusions contained in the works of the author, as also remarks on his most prominent defects and excellencies.
Joseph Scaliger and Salmasius, who were French Protestants, found shelter for their heretical principles, and liberal reward for their learning, in the University of Leyden; and with Douza (1545–1604), and Justus Lipsius (1547–1606), became the fathers and founders of classical knowledge in the Netherlands. As the inhabitants of that territory spoke and wrote a language which was but ill adapted for the expression of original thought, their whole force of mind was directed to throwing their humorous and grand conceptions on canvass, or to the elucidation of the writings of those who had been gifted with a more propitious tongue. These studies and researches were continued by Heinsius (1582–1655), Gerard and Isaac Vossius (1577–1689), and Gronovius (1611–1671). At this period Schrevelius (1615–1664) commenced the publication of the Classics, cum Notis [pg A-18]Variorum; and in the end of the seventeenth century, his example was followed by some of the most distinguished editors. The merit of these editions was very different, and has been variously estimated. Morhoff, while he does justice to the editorial works of Gronovius and other learned men, in which parts of the commentaries of predecessors, judiciously extracted, were given at full length, has indulged himself in an invective against other variorum editions, in which everything was mutilated and incorrect. “Sane ne comparandÆ quidem illi” (the editions of Aldus) “sunt ineptÆ Variorum editiones; quam nuper pestem bonis auctoribus BibliopolÆ Batavi inducere coeperunt, reclamantibus frustra viris doctis567.” In the course of the eighteenth century, the Burmans (1668–1778), Oudendorp (1696–1761), and Havercamp (1684–1742), continued to support the honour of a school, which as yet had no parallel in certainty, copiousness, and depth of illustration.
In Germany, the school which had been established by Charlemagne at Fulda, and that at Paderborn, long flourished under the superintendence of Meinwerk. The author of the Life of that scholar, speaking of these establishments, says, “Ibi viguit Horatius, magnus atque Virgilius, Crispus et Sallustius, et Urbanus Statius.” During the ninth century, Rabin Maur, a scholar of Alcuin, and head of the cathedral school at Fulda, became a celebrated teacher; and profane literature was not neglected by him amid the importance of his sacred lessons. Classical learning, however, was first thoroughly awakened in Germany, by the scholars of Thomas A’Kempis, in the end of the fifteenth century. A number of German youths, who were associated in a species of literary fraternity, travelled into Italy, at the time when the search for classical MSS. in that country was most eagerly prosecuted. Rudolph Agricola, afterwards Professor of Philosophy at Worms, was one of the most distinguished of these scholars. Living immediately after the invention of printing, and at a time when that art had not yet entirely superseded the transcription of MSS., he possessed an extensive collection of these, as well as of the works which had just issued resplendent from the press. Both were illustrated by him with various readings on the margin; and we perceive from the letters of Erasmus the value which even he attached to these notes, and the use which he made of the variations. Rudolph was succeeded by Herman von Busche, who lectured on the classics at Leipsic. He had in his possession a number of the Latin classics; but it is evident from his letters that some, as for instance Silius Italicus, were still inaccessible to him, or could only be procured with great difficulty. The German scholars did not bring so many MSS. to light, or multiply copies of them, so much as the Italians, because, in fact, their country was less richly stored than Italy with the treasures bequeathed to us by antiquity; but they exercised equal critical acuteness in amending the errors of the MSS. which they possessed. The sixteenth century was the age which produced in Germany the most valuable and numerous commentaries on the Latin classics. That country, in common with the Netherlands, was enlightened, during this period, by the erudition of Erasmus (1467–1536). In the same and succeeding age, Camerarius (1500–1574), Taubmann (1565–1613), Acidalius (1567–1595), and Gruterus (1560–1627), enriched the world with some of the best editions of the classics which had hitherto appeared. Towards the close of the seventeenth century, classical literature had for some time rather declined in Germany—polemical theology and religious wars having at this period exhausted and engrossed the attention of her universities. But it was revived again about the middle of the eighteenth by J. Math. Gesner (1691–1761), and Ernesti (1707–1781), who created an epoch in Germany for the study of the ancient authors. These two scholars surpassed all their predecessors in taste, in a philosophical spirit, and in a wide acquaintance with the subsidiary branches of erudition: They made an advantageous use of their critical knowledge of the languages; they looked at once to the words and to the subject of the ancient writers, established and applied the rules of a legitimate interpretation, and carefully analysed the meaning as well as the form of the expression. Their task was extended from words to things; and what has been called Æsthetic annotations, were combined with philological discussion. “Non volui,” says Gesner, in the Preface to his edition of Claudian, “commentarios scribere, collectos undique, aut locos communes: Non volui dictionem poetÆ, [pg A-19]congestis aliorum poetarum formulis illustrare; sed cum illud volui efficere poeta ut intelligatur, tum judicio meo juvare volui juniorum judicium, quid pulchrum, atque decens, et summorum poetarum simile putarem ostendendo, et contra, ea, ubi errÂsse illum a naturÂ, a magnis exemplis, a decoro arbitrarer, cum fide indicando.” J. Ernesti considers Gesner as unquestionably the first who introduced what he terms the Æsthetic mode of criticism568. But the honour of being the founder of this new school, has perhaps, with more justice, been assigned by others to Heyne569 (1729–1811). “From the middle of last century,” it is remarked, in a late biographical sketch of Heyne, “several intelligent philologers of Germany displayed a more refined and philosophic method in their treatment of the different branches of classical learning, who, without neglecting either the grammatical investigation of the language, or the critical constitution of the text, no longer regarded a Greek or Roman writer as a subject for the mere grammarian and critic; but, considering the study of the ancients as a school for thought, for feeling, and for taste, initiated us into the great mystery of reading every thing in the same spirit in which it had originally been written. They demonstrated, both by doctrine and example, in what manner it was necessary for us to enter into the thoughts of the writer, to pitch ourselves in unison with his peculiar tone of conception and expression, and to investigate the circumstances by which his mind was affected—the motives by which he was animated—and the influences which co-operated in giving the intensity and character of his feelings. At the head of this school stands Heyne; and it must be admitted, that nothing has contributed so decisively to maintain or promote the study of classical literature, as the combination which he has effected of philosophy with erudition, both in his commentaries on ancient authors, and those works in which he has illustrated various points of antiquity, or discussed the habit of thinking and spirit of the ancient world.” From the time of Heyne, almost the whole grand inheritance of Roman literature has been cultivated by commentators, who have raised the Germans to undisputed pre-eminence among the nations of Europe, for profound classical learning, and all the delightful researches connected with literary history. I have only space to mention the names of Zeunius (1736–1788), Jani (1743–1790), Wernsdorff (1723–1793); and among those who still survive, Harles (born 1738), SchÜtz (1747), Schneider (1751), Wolf (1757), Beck, (1757), Doering (1759), Mitscherlich (1760), Wetzel (1762), Goerenz (1765), EichstÄdt (1771), Hermann (1772).
While classical literature and topography were so highly cultivated abroad, England, at the revival of literature, remained greatly behind her continental neighbours in the elucidation and publication of the precious remains of ancient learning. It appears from Ames’ Typographical Antiquities, that the press of our celebrated ancient printers, as Caxton, Wynkin de Worde, and Pynson, was rarely employed in giving accuracy or embellishment to the works of the classics; and, indeed, so late as the middle of the sixteenth century, only Terence and Cicero’s Offices had been published in this country, in their original tongue. Matters had by no means improved in the seventeenth century. Evelyn, who had paid great attention to the subject, gives the following account of the state of classical typography and editorship in England, in a letter to the Lord Chancellor Clarendon, dated November 1666: “Our booksellers,” says he, “follow their own judgment in printing the ancient authors, according to such text as they found extant when first they entered their copy; whereas, out of the MSS. collated by the industry of later critics, those authors are exceedingly improved. For instance, about thirty years since, Justin was corrected by Isaac Vossius, in many hundreds of places, most material to sense and elegancy, and has since been frequently reprinted in Holland, after the purer copy; but with us still according to the old reading. The like has Florus, Seneca’s Tragedies, and near all the rest, which have, in the meantime, been castigated abroad by several learned hands, which, besides that it makes ours to be rejected, and dishonours our nation, so does it no little detriment to learning, and to the treasure of the nation in proportion. The cause of this is principally the stationer driving as hard and cruel a bargain with the printer as he can, and the printer taking up any smatterer in the tongues, to be the less loser; an exactness in this no ways import[pg A-20]ing the stipulation, by which means errors repeat and multiply in every edition570.” Since the period in which this letter is dated, Bentley, who bears the greatest name in England as a critic, however acute and ingenious, did more by his slashing alterations to injure than amend the text, at least of the Latin authors on whom he commented. He substituted what he thought best for what he actually found; and such was his deficiency in taste, that what he thought best (as is evinced by his changes on the text of Lucretius), was frequently destructive of the poetical idea, and almost of the sense of his author.
I have thought it right, before entering into detail concerning the Codices and editions of the works of the early classics mentioned in the text, briefly to remind the reader of the general circumstances connected with the loss and recovery of the classical MSS. of Rome, and to recall to his recollection the names of a few of the most celebrated commentators in Italy, France, Holland, and Germany. This will render the following Appendix, in which there must be constant reference to the discovery of MSS. and the labours of commentators, somewhat more distinct and perspicuous than I could otherwise make it.