Deorum_, I trust I have brought no unfounded or 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 Naturâ 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
subject(445). 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 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 happen(446). 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 sumus(447)?”
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 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
diffidens(448).” 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 Româ 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,—
“His candid style, like a clean stream doth slide,
And his bright fancy, all the way,
Doth like the sun-shine on it play(449).”
_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 conference(450); 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 here(451), 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 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
state(452).”
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 Περι Καθηκοντος. 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 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 work(453), 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 questions 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 duties(454);
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_.——
“O Thou all eloquent, whose mighty mind
Streams from the depths of ages on mankind,
Streams like the day—who angel-like hast shed
Thy full effulgence on the hoary head;
Speaking in Cato’s venerable voice—
“Look up and faint not—faint not, but rejoice”—
From thy Elysium guide us(455).”
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 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 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 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.