is not known that he left any writings of importance behind him(379). 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 war(380);
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 poet(381), 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 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 assent(382).
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 Zeno(383). 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 philosophers 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 reflection(384). 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
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 them all the leisure he could
command(385). 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
intolerable(386),” 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.
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 contemplative 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 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
philosophers(387).
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 Finibus_(388), and assented to by Schütz(389), 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 philosophiâ 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
linguâ Latinâ securi es animi, dices, qui talia conscribis! ἀπογραφα sunt;
minore labore fiunt: verba tantum affero, quibus abundo(390)’; 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, the difficulty
which Lucretius had encountered, in embodying in Latin verse the precepts
of Epicurus,—
“Propter egestatem linguæ rerumque novitatem,”
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 tongue(391). Thus, for
example, he could find no Latin word equivalent to the ἐποχη, 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
villages(392). 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 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 surpassed(393).
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.
_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 church(394). 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 described(395).