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:—
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 Amicitiâ 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 Republicâ was begun by Cicero in the month of May, in the year 699, when the author was in the fifty-second year of his age, so that, of all his philosophical writings, it was at least the earliest commenced. In a letter to his brother Quintus, he tells him that he had employed himself in his Cuman and Pompeian villas, in writing a large and laborious political work; that, should it succeed to his mind, it would be well, but, if not, he would cast it into that sea which was in view when he wrote it; and, as it was impossible for him to be idle, commence some other undertaking460. He had proceeded, however, but a little way, when he repeatedly changed the whole plan of the work; and it is curious to perceive, that an author of so perfect a genius as Cicero, had similar advices from friends, and the same discouragement, and doubts, and irresolution, which agitate inferior writers.
When he had finished the first and second books, they were read to some of his friends at his Tusculan villa. Sallust, who was one of the company present, advised him to change his plan, and to treat the subject in his own person—alleging that the introduction of those ancient philosophers and statesmen, to whom Cicero had assigned parts in the dialogue, instead of adding gravity, gave a fictitious air to the argument, which would have greater weight if delivered from Cicero himself, as being the work, not of a sophist or contemplative theorist, but of a consular senator and statesman, conversant in the greatest affairs, and writing only what his own experience had taught him to be true. These reasons seemed to Cicero very plausible, and for some time made him think of altering his plan, especially since, by placing the scene of the dialogue so far back, he had precluded himself from touching on those important revolutions in the Republic, which were later than the period to which he had confined himself. But after some deliberation, feeling reluctant to throw away the [pg 266]two books which were already finished, and with which he was much pleased, he resolved to adhere to his original plan461. And as he had preferred it from the first, for the sake of avoiding offence, so he pursued it without any other alteration than that he now limited to six what he had before proposed to extend to nine books. These six were made public previously to his departure for the government of Cilicia. While there, he received the epistolary congratulations of his friends on their success462, and in his answers he discloses all the delight of a gratified and successful author463.
Mai discusses at considerable length the question, To whom the treatise De Republicâ was dedicated. The beginning of the proœmium to the first book, which might have determined this point, is lost; but the author says, “Disputatio repetenda memoriâ est, quæ mihi, tibique quondam adolescentulo, est a P. Rutilio Rufo, Zmyrnæ cùm simul essemus, complures dies exposita.” Cicero was at Smyrna in the twenty-ninth year of his age, and it is evident that his companion, to whom this treatise is dedicated, was younger than himself, as he says, “Mihi, tibique quondam adolescentulo.” Atticus was two years older than Cicero, and therefore could not be the person. In fact, there is every reason to suppose that the treatise De Republicâ was dedicated to its author’s younger brother Quintus, who, as we know from the proœmium of the last book, De Finibus, was with Cicero at Athens during the voyage, in the course of which he touched at Smyrna—who probably attended him to Asia,—and whose age suited the expression “mihi, tibique adolescentulo.” Add to this, that Cicero, when he mentions to his brother, (in the passage of the letter above referred to,) that he meant to alter the plan of his work, says, “Nunc loquar ipse tecum, et tamen illa quæ institueram ad te, si Romam venero, mittam464.” The work in its first concoction, therefore, was addressed to Quintus, and, as the author, after some hesitation, published it nearly in its original form, it can scarcely be doubted that it was still dedicated to his brother.
The first book De Republicâ, which was one of those read by Cicero to Sallust and some other friends, in his Tusculan villa, is, as already mentioned, imperfect at the commencement. Not much, however, seems to be wanting, and a prologue of considerable length still remains, in which the author [pg 267](pleading, perhaps, his own cause) combats the opinions of philosophers, who, preferring a contemplative to an active life, blame those who engage in public affairs. To the former he opposes the example of many wise and great men, and answers those objections to a busy political life, which have been repeatedly urged against it. This prologue contains some good reasoning, and, like all the writings of its illustrious author, displays a noble patriotic feeling. He remarks, that he had entered into this discussion as introductory to a book concerning the republic, since it seemed proper, as prefatory to such a work, to combat the sentiments of those who deny that a philosopher should be a statesman. “As to the work itself,” says he, addressing (as I have supposed) his brother, “I shall lay down nothing new or peculiar to myself, but shall repeat a discussion which once took place among the most illustrious men of their age, and the wisest of our state, such as it was related to myself, and to you when a youth, by P. Rutilius Rufus, when we were with him some days at Smyrna—in which discussion nothing of importance to the right constitution of a commonwealth, appears to have been omitted.”
The author then proceeds to mention, that during the consulship of Tuditanus and Aquilius, (as he had heard from Rufus,) the younger Scipio Africanus determined to pass the Latin festivals (Latinæ Feriæ) in his gardens, where some of his most intimate friends had promised to visit him. The first of these who makes his appearance is his nephew, Quintus Tubero, a person devoted to the Stoical philosophy, and noted for the austerity of his manners. A remark which Tubero makes about two suns, a prodigy which, it seems, had lately appeared in the heavens, leads Scipio to praise Socrates for his abandonment of physical pursuits, as neither very useful to man, nor capable of being thoroughly investigated—a sentiment (by the way) which, with all due submission to the Greek philosopher, does little credit to his sagacity, as physical inquiries have been not only highly useful to mankind, but are almost the only subjects in which accurate science has been attained. Furius, Philus, and Rutilius, who is stated to have related the discussion to Cicero, now enter, and, at last, comes Lælius, attended by his friend, Spurius Mummius, (brother to the well-known connoisseur in the fine arts who took Corinth,) and by his two sons-in-law, C. Fannius and Q. Scævola. After saluting them, Scipio, as it was now winter, takes them to a sunny spot, in a meadow, and in proceeding thither the party is joined by M. Manilius.
“In this choice of his principal speakers, Cicero,” as has been well remarked, “was extremely judicious and happy. It [pg 268]was necessary that the persons selected should have been distinguished both as statesmen and as scholars, in order that a philosophical discussion might appear consistent with their known characters, and that a high political reputation might give authority to their remarks on government. Scipio and Lælius united both these requisites in a remarkable degree. They were among the earliest of the Romans who added the graces of Grecian taste and learning to the manly virtues of their own ruder country. These accomplishments had refined and polished their characters, without at all detracting from their force and purity. The very name of the Scipios, the duo fulmina belli, was the symbol of military talent, patriotism, and magnanimity: Lælius was somewhat less distinguished in active life; but enjoyed, on the other hand, a still higher reputation for contemplative wisdom465.”
After the party had been all seated, the subject of the two suns is resumed; and Lælius, while he remarks that they had enough to occupy attention in matters more at hand, adds, that since they were at present idle, he for his part, had no objection to hear Philus, who was fond of astronomical pursuits, on the subject. Philus, thus encouraged, proceeds to give an account of a kind of Orrery, which had been formed by Archimedes, and having been brought to Rome by Marcellus, its structure, as well as uses, had on one occasion, when Philus was present, been explained by C. Sulpicius Gallus. The application of this explanation to the phenomenon of the two suns is lost, as a hiatus of eight pages here occurs in the palimpsest. Probably, the solution of the problem would not, if extant, make a great figure in the Philosophical Transactions. But one cannot fail to admire the discursive and active genius of Cicero, who considered all knowledge as an object deserving ardent pursuit466.
[pg 269]At the end of the hiatus, we find Scipio, in reference to Gallus’s astronomical knowledge, which had been celebrated by Philus, relating, that when his father, Paulus Æmilius, commanded in Macedonia, the army being terrified by an eclipse, Gallus had calmed their fears by explaining the phænomenon—an anecdote, which, with another similar to it here told of Pericles, proves the value of physical pursuits, and their intimate connection with the affairs of life. This inference seems to have been drawn in a passage which is lost; and several beautiful sentiments follow, similar to some of those in the Somnium Scipionis, on the calm exquisite delights of meditation and science, and on the littleness of all earthly things, when compared with immortality or the universe. “Quid porro,” says Scipio, in the most elevated tone of moral and intellectual grandeur—“quid porro aut præclarum putet in rebus humanis, qui hæc deorum regna perspexerit? aut diuturnum, qui cognoverit quid sit æternum? aut gloriosum, qui viderit quàm parva sit terra, primum universa, deinde ea pars ejus quam homines incolant, quamque nos in exiguâ ejus parte adfixi, plurimis ignotissimi gentibus, speremus tamen nostrum nomen volitare et vagari latissime? Agros, vero, et ædificia, et pecudes, et immensum argenti pondus atque auri, qui bona nec putare nec appellare soleat, quod earum rerum videatur ei, levis fructus, exiguus usus, incertus dominatus, sæpe etiam teterrimorum hominum immensa possessio. Quàm est hic fortunatus putandus, cui soli vere liceat omnia non Quiritium sed sapientium jure pro suis vindicare! nec civili nexo, sed communi lege naturæ, quæ vetat ullam rem esse cujusquam nisi ejus qui tractare et uti sciat: qui imperia consulatusque [pg 270]nostros in necessariis non in expetendis rebus muneris fungendi gratiâ subeundos, non præmiorum aut gloriæ causâ adpetendos putet: qui denique ut Africanum avum meum scribit Cato solitum esse dicere, possit idem de se prædicare, nunquam se plus agere, quàm nihil cùm ageret; nunquam minus solum esse, quàm cùm solus esset.
“Quis enim putare vere potest plus egisse Dionysium tum cùm omnia moliendo eripuerit civibus suis libertatem, quàm ejus civem Archimedem, cùm istam ipsam Sphæram, nihil cùm agere videretur, effecerit? Quis autem non magis solos esse qui in foro turbâque quicum conloqui libeat non habeant, quam qui nullo arbitro vel secum ipsi loquantur, vel quasi doctissimorum hominum in concilio adsint cùm eorum inventis scriptisque se oblectent? Quis vero divitiorem quemquam putet, quàm eum cui nihil desit, quod quidem natura desideret? aut potentiorem quàm illum, qui omnia quæ expetat, consequatur? aut beatiorem quàm qui sit omni perturbatione animi liberatus?”
Lælius, however, is no way moved by these sonorous arguments; and still persists in affirming, that the most important of all studies are those which relate to the Republic, and that it concerned them to inquire, not why two suns had appeared in heaven, but why, in the present circumstances, (alluding to the projects of the Gracchi,) there were two senates, and almost two peoples. In this state of things, therefore, and since they had now leisure, their fittest object would be to learn from Scipio what he deemed the best condition of a commonwealth. Scipio complies with this request, and begins with defining a republic; “Est igitur respublica res populi—populus autem non omnis hominum cœtus quoquo modo congregatus, sed cœtus multitudinis juris consensu.” In entering on the nature of what he had thus defined, he remounts to the origin of society, which he refers entirely to that social spirit which is one of the principles of our nature, and not to hostility, or fear, or compact. A people, when united, may be governed by one, by several, or by a multitude, any one of which simple forms may be tolerable if well administered, but they are liable to corruptions peculiar to themselves. Of these three simple forms, Scipio prefers the monarchical; and for this choice he gives his reasons, which are somewhat metaphysical and analogical. But though he more approves of a pure regal government than of the two other simple forms, he thinks that none of them are good, and that a perfect constitution must be compounded of the three. “Quod cùm ita sit, tribus primis generibus longe præstat, meâ sententiâ, regium; regio autem ipsi præstabit id quod erit æquatum et tempera[pg 271]tum ex tribus optimis rerum publicarum modis. Placet enim esse quiddam in re publicâ præstans et regale; esse aliud auctoritate principum partum ac tributum; esse quasdam res servatas judicio voluntatique multitudinis. Hæc constitutio primum habet æqualitatem quamdam magnam, quâ carere diutius vix possunt liberi; deinde firmitudinem.”
In this panegyric on a mixed constitution, Cicero has taken his idea of a perfect state from the Roman commonwealth—from its consuls, senate, and popular assemblies. Accordingly, Scipio proceeds to affirm, that of all constitutions which had ever existed, no one, either as to the distribution of its parts or discipline, was so perfect as that which had been established by their ancestors; and that, therefore, he will constantly have his eye on it as a model in all that he means to say concerning the best form of a state.
This explains what was the chief scope of Cicero in his work De Republica—an eulogy on the Roman government, such as it was, or he supposed it to have been, in the early ages of the commonwealth. In the time of Cicero, when Rome was agitated by the plots of Catiline, and factions of Clodius, with the proscriptions of Sylla but just terminated, and the usurpation of Cæsar impending, the Roman constitution had become as ideal as the polity of Plato; and in its best times had never reached the perfection which Cicero attributes to it. But when a writer is disgusted with the present, and fearful for the future, he is ever ready to form an Utopia of the past467.
In the second book, which, like the first, is imperfect at the beginning, (though Mai seems to think that only a few words are wanting;) Scipio records a saying of Cato the Censor, that the constitution of Rome was superior to that of all other states, because they had been modelled by single legislators, as Crete by Minos, and Sparta by Lycurgus, whereas the Roman commonwealth was the result of the gradually improved experience and wisdom of ages. “To borrow, therefore,” says he, “a word from Cato, I shall go back to the origin of the Roman state; and show it in its birth, childhood, youth, and maturity—a plan which seems preferable to the delineation of an imaginary republic like that of Plato.”
Scipio now begins with Romulus, whose birth, indeed, he seems to treat as a fable; but in the whole succeeding development of the Roman history, he, or, in other words, Cicero, exercises little criticism, and indulges in no scepticism. He [pg 272]admires the wisdom with which Romulus chose the site of his capital—not placing it in a maritime situation, where it would have been exposed to many dangers and disadvantages, but on a navigable river, with all the conveniences of the sea.—“Quî potuit igitur divinitus et utilitates complecti maritimas Romulus et vitia vitare? quàm quòd urbem perennis amnis et æquabilis et in mare late influentis posuit in ripâ, quo posset urbs et accipere ex mari quo egeret, et reddere quo redundaret: eodemque ut flumine res ad victum cultumque maxime necessarias non solum mari absorberet sed etiam advectas acciperet ex terrâ: ut mihi jam tum divinâsse ille videatur, hanc urbem sedem aliquando ut domum summo esse imperio præbituram: nam hanc rerum tantam potentiam non ferme facilius aliâ in parte Italiæ posita urbs tenere potuisset.”—In like manner he praises the sagacity of the succeeding rulers of the Roman state. “Faithful to his plan,” says M. Villemain, “of referring all to the Roman constitution, and of forming rather a history than a political theory, Cicero proceeds to examine, as it were chronologically, the state of Rome at the different epochs of its duration, beginning with its kings. This plan, if it produced any new light on a very dark subject, would have much more interest for us than ideas merely speculative. But Cicero scarcely deviates from the common traditions, which have often exercised the scepticism of the learned. He takes the Roman history nearly as we now have it, and his reflections seem to suppose no other facts than those which have been so eloquently recorded by Livy.” But although, for the sake of illustration, and in deference to common opinion, he argues on the events of early Roman history, as delivered by vulgar tradition, it is evident that, in his own belief, they were altogether uncertain; and if any new authority on that subject were wanting, Cicero’s might be added in favour of their total uncertainty; for Lælius thus interrupts his account of Ancus Martius—“Laudandus etiam iste rex—sed obscura est historia Romana;” and Scipio replies, “Ita est: sed temporum illorum tantum fere regum illustrata sunt nomina.”
At the close of Scipio’s discourse, which is a perpetual panegyric on the successive governments of Rome, and, with exception of the above passage, an uncritical acquiescence in its common history, Tubero remarks, that Cicero had rather praised the Roman government, than examined the constitution of commonwealths in general, and that hitherto he had not explained by what discipline, manners, and laws, a state is to be constituted or preserved. Scipio replies, that this is to be a farther subject of discussion; and he seems now to [pg 273]have adopted a more metaphysical tone: But of the remainder of the book only a few fragments exist; from which, however, it appears, that a question was started, how far the exact observance of justice in a state is politic or necessary. This discussion, at the suggestion of Scipio, is suspended till the succeeding day468.
As the third book of Cicero’s treatise began a second day’s colloquy, it was doubtless furnished with a proœmium, the greater part of which is now lost, as also a considerable portion of the commencement of the dialogue. Towards the conclusion of the preceding book, Scipio had touched on the subject, how far the observance of justice is useful to a state, and Philus had proposed that this topic should be treated more fully, as an opinion was prevalent, that policy occasionally required injustice. Previously to the discovery of Mai, we knew from St Augustine, De Civitate Dei, that in the third book of the treatise De Republicâ, Philus, as a disputant, undertook the cause of injustice, and was answered by Lælius. In the fragment of the third book, Philus excuses himself from becoming (so to speak) the devil’s advocate; but at length agrees to offer, not his own arguments on the subject, but those of Carneades, who, some years before, had one day pleaded the cause of justice at Rome, and next day overturning his own arguments, became the patron of injustice. Philus accordingly proceeds to contend, that if justice were something real, it would be everywhere the same, whereas, in one nation, that is reckoned equitable and holy, which in another is unjust and impious; and, in like manner, in the same city, what is just at one period, becomes unjust at another. In the palimpsest, these sophisms, which have been revived in modern times by Mandeville and others, are interrupted by frequent chasms in the MS. Lælius, as we learn from St Augustine, and from a passage in Aulus Gellius, was requested by all present to undertake the defence of justice; but his discourse, with the exception of a few sentences, is wholly wanting in the palimpsest. At the close he is highly complimented by Scipio, but a large hiatus again intervenes. After this, Scipio is found contending, that wealth and power, Phidian statues, or the most magnificent public works, do not constitute a republic, but the res populi, the good of the whole, and not of any single governing portion of the state. He then concludes with affirming, that of all forms of government, the [pg 274]purely democratic is the worst, and next to that, an unmixed aristocracy.
Of the fourth book only one leaf remains in the palimpsest, the contents of which seem to confirm what we learn from other sources, that it treated of Education and Morals. It is particularly to be regretted that this book has disappeared. It is easy to supply abstract discussions about justice, democracy, and power, and, if they be not supplied, little injury is sustained; but the loss of details relating to manners and customs, from such a hand as that of Cicero, is irreparable. The fifth book is nearly as much mutilated as the fourth, and of the sixth not a fragment remains in the palimpsest, so that Mai’s discovery has added nothing to the beautiful extract from this book, entitled the Somnium Scipionis, preserved by Macrobius. The conclusion of the work De Republicâ, had turned on immortality of fame here, and eternity of existence elsewhere. The Somnium Scipionis is intended to establish, under the form of a political fiction, the sublime dogma of the soul’s immortality, and was probably introduced at the conclusion of the work, for the purpose of adding the hopes and fears of future retribution to the other motives to virtuous exertion. In illustration of this sublime topic, Scipio relates that, in his youth, when he first served in Africa, he visited the court of Massinissa, the steady friend of the Romans, and particularly of the Cornelian family. During the feasts and entertainments of the day, the conversation turned on the words and actions of the first great Scipio. His adopted grandchild having retired to rest, the shade of the departed hero appeared to him in sleep, darkly foretold the future events of his life, and encouraged him to tread in the paths of patriotism and true glory, by announcing the reward provided in Heaven for those who have deserved well of their country.
I have thought it proper to give this minute account of the treatise De Republicâ, for the sake of those who may not have had an opportunity of consulting Mai’s publication, and who may be curious to know somewhat of the value and extent of his discovery. On the whole, I suspect that the treatise will disappoint those whose expectations were high, especially if they thought to find in it much political or statistical information. It corresponds little to the idea that one would naturally form of a political work from the pen of Cicero—a distinguished statesman, always courted by the chiefs of political parties, and at one time himself at the head of the government of his country. But, on reflection, it will not appear surprising that we receive from this work so little insight into the doubtful and disputed points of Roman polity. Those questions, with [pg 275]regard to the manner in which the Senate was filled up—the force of degrees of the people, and the rank of the different jurisdictions, which in modern times have formed subjects of discussion, had not become problems in the time of Cicero. The great men whom he introduces in conversation together, understood each other on such topics, by a word or suggestion; and I am satisfied that those parts of the treatise De Republicâ, which are lost, contained as little that could contribute to the solution of such difficulties, as the portions that have been recovered.
But though the work of Cicero will disappoint those who expect to find in it much political information, still, as in his other productions, every page exhibits a rich and glowing magnificence of style, ever subjected to the controul of a taste the most correct and pure. It contains, like all his writings, some passages of exquisite beauty, and everywhere breathes an exalted spirit of virtue and patriotism. The Latin language, so noble in itself, and dignified, assumes additional majesty in the periods of the Roman Consul, and adds an inexpressible beauty and loftiness to the natural sublimity of his sentiments. No writings, in fact, are so full of moral and intellectual grandeur as those of Cicero, none are more calculated to elevate and purify our nature—to inculcate the tu vero enitere, in the path of knowledge and virtue, and to excite not merely a fond desire, or idle longing, but strenuous efforts after immortality. Indeed, the whole life of the Father of his Country was a noble fulfilment, and his sublime philosophic works are but an expansion of that golden precept, tu vero enitere, enjoined from on high, to his great descendant, by the Spirit of the first Africanus469.
About a century after the revival of letters, when mankind had at length despaired of any farther discovery of the philosophic writings of Cicero, the learned men of the age employed themselves in collecting the scattered fragments of his lost works, and arranging them according to the order of the books from which they had been extracted. Sigonius had thus united the detached fragments of the work De Republicâ, and he made a similar attempt to repair another lost treatise of Cicero, entitled De Consolatione. But in this instance he not merely collected the fragments, but connected them by sentences of his own composition. The work De Consolatione was written by Cicero in the year 708, on occasion of the death of his much-loved Tullia, with the design of relieving his own mind, and consecrating to all posterity the virtues [pg 276]and memory of his daughter470. In this treatise, he set out with the paradoxical propositions, that human life is a punishment, and that men are brought into the world only to pay the forfeit of their sins471. Cicero chiefly followed Crantor the Academic472, who had left a celebrated piece on the same topic; but he inserted whatever pleased him in any other author who had written on the subject. He illustrated his precepts, as he proceeded, by examples from Roman history, of eminent characters who had borne a similar loss with that which he had himself sustained, or other severe misfortunes, with remarkable constancy473,—dwelling particularly on the domestic calamities of Q. Maximus, who buried a consular son; of Æmilius Paullus, who lost two sons in two days; and of M. Cato, who had been deprived of a son, who was Prætor-Elect474. Sigonius pretended, that the patched-up treatise De Consolatione, which he gave to the public, was the lost work of Cicero, of which he had discovered a MS. The imposture succeeded for a considerable time, but was at length detected and pointed out by Riccoboni475.
Cicero also wrote a treatise in two books, addressed to Atticus, on the subject of Glory, which was the predominant and most conspicuous passion of his soul. It was composed in the year 710, while sailing along the delightful coast of the Campagna, on his voyage to Greece:—