No More Learning

In truth, everything
that happens agreeably to nature is to be reckoned among bless-
ings. What, however, is so agreeable to nature as for an old
man to die? which even is the lot of the young, though nature
opposes and resists. And thus it is that young men seem to
me to die just as when the violence of flame is extinguished by
a flood of water; whereas old men die as the exhausted fire
goes out, spontaneously, without the exertion of any force: and
as fruits when they are green are plucked by force from the
trees, but when ripe and mellow drop off, so violence takes away
their lives from youths, maturity from old men; a state which
to me indeed is so delightful, that the nearer I approach to
death, I seem as it were to be getting sight of land, and at
length after a long voyage to be just coming into harbor.
GREAT ORATORS AND THEIR TRAINING
From the Dialogue on Oratory>
F
OR who can suppose that amid the great multitude of stu-
dents, the utmost abundance of masters, the most eminent
geniuses among men, the infinite variety of causes, the
most ample rewards offered to eloquence, there is any other
reason to be found for the small number of orators than the
incredible magnitude and difficulty of the art? A knowledge
of a vast number of things is necessary, without which volubility
of words is empty and ridiculous; speech itself is to be formed,
not merely by choice, but by careful construction of words; and


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all the emotions of the mind which nature has given to man,
must be intimately known; for all the force and art of speaking
must be employed in allaying or exciting the feelings of those
who listen. To this must be added a certain portion of grace
and wit, learning worthy of a well-bred man, and quickness and
brevity in replying as well as attacking, accompanied with a
refined decorum and urbanity. Besides, the whole of antiquity
and a multitude of examples is to be kept in the memory;
nor is the knowledge of laws in general, or of the civil law in
particular, to be neglected. And why need I add any remarks
on delivery itself, which is to be ordered by action of body, by
gesture, by look, and by modulation and variation of the voice,
the great power of which, alone and in itself, the comparatively
trivial art of actors and the stage proves; on which though all
bestow their utmost labor to form their look, voice, and gesture,
who knows not how few there are, and have ever been, to whom
we can attend with patience? What can I say of that repository
for all things, the memory; which, unless it be made the keeper
of the matter and words that are the fruits of thought and
invention, all the talents of the orator, we see, though they be
of the highest degree of excellence, will be of no avail ? Let
us then cease to wonder what is the cause of the scarcity of
good speakers, since eloquence results from all those qualifica-
tions, in each of which singly it is a great merit to labor suc-
cessfully; and let us rather exhort our children, and others
whose glory and honor is dear to us, to contemplate in their
minds the full magnitude of the object, and not to trust that
they can reach the height at which they aim by the aid of the
precepts, masters, and exercises that they are all now follow-
ing, but to understand that they must adopt others of a different
character.
In my opinion, indeed, no man can be an orator possessed
of every praiseworthy accomplishment unless he has attained
the knowledge of everything important, and of all liberal arts;
for his language must be ornate and copious from knowledge,
since unless there be beneath the surface matter understood
and felt by the speaker, oratory becomes an empty and almost
puerile flow of words.
"I am then of opinion," said Crassus, "that nature and
genius in the first place contribute most aid to speaking; and
that to those writers on the art to whom Antonius just now
VI-232


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MARCUS TULLIUS CICERO
alluded, it was not skill and method in speaking, but natural
talent that was wanting; for there ought to be certain lively
powers in the mind and understanding, which may be acute to
invent, fertile to explain and adorn, and strong and retentive to
remember; and if any one imagines that these powers may be
acquired by art (which is false, for it is very well if they can
be animated and excited by art; but they certainly cannot by art
be ingrafted or instilled, since they are all the gifts of nature),
what will he say of those qualities which are certainly born with
the man himself - volubility of tongue, tone of voice, strength of
lungs, and a peculiar conformation and aspect of the whole
countenance and body? I do not say that art cannot improve
in these particulars (for I am not ignorant that what is good
may be made better by education, and what is not very good
may be in some degree polished and amended); but there are
some persons so hesitating in their speech, so inharmonious in
their tone of voice, or so unwieldy and rude in the air and
movements of their bodies, that whatever power they possess
either from genius or art, they can never be reckoned in the
number of accomplished speakers; while there are others so hap-
pily qualified in these respects, so eminently adorned with the
gifts of nature, that they seem not to have been born like other
men, but molded by some divinity. It is indeed a great task
and enterprise for a person to undertake and profess that while
every one else is silent, he alone must be heard on the most
important subjects, and in a large assembly of men; for there is
scarcely any one present who is not sharper and quicker to dis-
cover defects in the speaker than merits; and thus whatever
offends the hearer effaces the recollection of what is worthy of
praise. I do not make these observations for the purpose of
altogether deterring young men from the study of oratory, even
if they be deficient in some natural endowments. For who does
not perceive that to C. Cælius, my contemporary, a new man,
the mere mediocrity in speaking which he was enabled to attain
was a great honor? Who does not know that Q. Varius, your
equal in age, a clumsy uncouth man, has obtained his great popu-
larity by the cultivation of such faculties as he has?
"But as our inquiry regards the complete orator, we must
imagine in our discussion an orator from whom every kind of
fault is abstracted, and who is adorned with every kind of
merit. For if the multitude of suits, if the variety of causes, if


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3699
the rabble and barbarism of the forum, afford room for even
the most wretched speakers, we must not for that reason take
our eyes from the object of our inquiry. In those arts in
which it is not indispensable usefulness that is sought, but lib-
eral amusement for the mind, how nicely, how almost fastid-
iously, do we judge! For there are no suits or controversies
which can force men, though they may tolerate indifferent ora-
tors in the forum, to endure also bad actors upon the stage.
The orator therefore must take the most studious precaution not
merely to satisfy those whom he necessarily must satisfy, but to
seem worthy of admiration to those who are at liberty to judge
disinterestedly. If you would know what I myself think, I will
express to you, my intimate friends, what I have hitherto never
mentioned, and thought that I never should mention.
To me,
those who speak best and speak with the utmost ease and
grace, appear, if they do not commence their speeches with
some timidity, and show some confusion in the exordium, to
have almost lost the sense of shame; though it is impossible that
such should not be the case: for the better qualified a man is to
speak, the more he fears the difficulties of speaking, the uncer-
tain success of a speech, and the expectation of the audience.
But he who can produce and deliver nothing worthy of his sub-
ject, nothing worthy of the name of an orator, nothing worthy
the attention of his audience, seems to me, though he be ever
so confused while he is speaking, to be downright shameless; for
we ought to avoid a character for shamelessness, not by testify-
ing shame, but by not doing that which does not become us.
But the speaker who has no shame (as I see to be the case with
many) I regard as deserving not only of rebuke but of personal
castigation. Indeed, what I often observe in you I very fre-
quently experience in myself; that I turn pale in the outset of
my speech, and feel a tremor through my whole thoughts, as it
were, and limbs. When I was a young man, I was on one occa-
sion so timid in commencing an accusation, that I owed to Q.
Maximus the greatest of obligations for immediately dismissing
the assembly as soon as he saw me absolutely disheartened and
incapacitated through fear. " Here they all signified assent,
looked significantly at one another, and began to talk together;
for there was a wonderful modesty in Crassus, which however
was not only no disadvantage to his oratory, but even an assist-
ance to it, by giving it the recommendation of probity.


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MARCUS TULLIUS CICERO
CICERO TO TIRO
[The following epistles are taken by permission from Jeans's Letters of
Cicero. This letter gives a vivid glimpse of Cicero's tenderness to his slaves
and freedmen. Tiro was probably the first editor of his former master's
letters. ]
ΑΕ
GYPTA arrived here on the 12th of April. Although he
reported that you were now quite rid of your fever and
going on very well, he nevertheless caused me some
anxiety by his report that you were not able to write to me, the
more so because Hermia, who ought to have been here on the
same day, has not yet come. I am more anxious than you can
believe about your health. Only free me from this anxiety and
I will free you from all duties. I would write you more if I
thought you could now read more with pleasure. Use all the tal-
ents you possess, of which I have no small opinion, to keep your-
self safe for my sake as well as your own. Again and again I
repeat, take every precaution about your health. Good-by.
P. S. -Hermia is just come. I have your note with its poor
weak handwriting-no wonder, too, after so severe an illness. I
send out Ægypta to stay with you because he is not a bad com-
panion, and appeared to me to be fond of you; and with him a
cook, for you to make use of his services.
Good-by.
CICERO TO ATTICUS
[The family affection of Cicero might be illustrated by many such letters
as the following:]
I
T BEING now eleven days since I left you, I am scrawling this
little bit of a note just as I am leaving my country-house
before it is light. I think of being at my place at Anagnia
to-day, and Tusculum to-morrow; only one day there, so that I
shall come up all right to time on the 28th; and oh, if could
but run on at once to embrace my Tullia and give Attica a kiss!
Talking of this, by-the-by, do please write and let me know
while I am stopping at Tusculum what her prattle is like, or if
she is away in the country, what her letters to you are about.
Meanwhile either send or give her my love, and Pilia too. And
even though we shall meet immediately, yet will you write to
me anything you can find to say?


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3701
P. S. I was just fastening up this letter, but your courier
has arrived here after a long night journey with your letter. I
was very sorry, you may be sure, to find on reading it that
Attica is feverish. Everything else that I was waiting for I
now know from your note; but when you tell me that to have a
little fire in the morning sent le vieillard," I retort il le sent
plus for one's poor old memory to begin to totter: because it
was the 29th I had promised to Axius; the 30th to you; and the
day of my arrival, the 31st, to Quintus. So take that for your-
self- you shall have no news. Then what on earth is the good
of writing? And what good is it when we are together and
chatter whatever comes to our tongues? Surely there is some-
thing in causerie after all; even if there is nothing under it, there
is always at least the delicious feeling that we are talking with
one another.
SULPICIUS CONSOLES CICERO AFTER HIS DAUGHTER
TULLIA'S DEATH
FOR
some time after I had received the information of the
death of your daughter Tullia, you may be sure that I
bore it sadly and heavily, as much indeed as was right for
me. I felt that I shared that terrible loss with you; and that
had I but been where you are, you on your part would not have
found me neglectful, and I on he should not have failed to
come to you and tell you myself how deeply grieved I am. And
though it is true that consolations of this nature are painful
and distressing, because those [dear friends and relations] upon
whom the task naturally devolves are themselves afflicted with a
similar burden, and incapable even of attempting it without
many tears, so that one would rather suppose them in need of
the consolations of others for themselves than capable of doing
this kind office to others, yet nevertheless I have decided to
write to you briefly such reflections as have occurred to me on
the present occasion; not that I imagine them to be ignored by
you, but because it is possible that you may be hindered by
your sorrow from seeing them as clearly as usual.
;
What reason is there why you should allow the private grief
which has befallen you to distress you so terribly? Recollect
how fortune has hitherto dealt with us: how we have been


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MARCUS TULLIUS CICERO
bereft of all that ought to be no less dear to men than their
own children-of country, position, rank, and every honorable
office. If one more burden has now been laid upon you, could
any addition be made to your pain? Or is there any heart that
having been trained in the school of such events, ought not now.
to be steeled by use against emotion, and think everything after
them to be comparatively light?
Or it is for her sake, I suppose, that you are grieving? How
many times must you have arrived at the same conclusion as
that into which I too have frequently fallen, that in these days.
theirs is not the hardest lot who are permitted painlessly to
exchange their life for the grave! Now what was there at the
present time that could attach her very strongly to life? what
hope? what fruition? what consolation for the soul? The pros-
pect of a wedded life with a husband chosen from our young
men of rank? Truly, one would think it was always in your
power to choose a son-in-law of a position suitable to your rank
out of our young men, one to whose keeping you would feel you
could safely intrust the happiness of a child. Or that of being
a joyful mother of children, who would be happy in seeing
them succeeding in life; able by their own exertions to maintain.
in its integrity all that was bequeathed them by their father;
intending gradually to rise to all the highest offices of the State;
and to use that liberty to which they were born for the good of
their country and the service of their friends. Is there any one
of these things that has not been taken away before it was
given?
But surely it is hard to give up one's children? It is
hard; but this is harder still-that they should bear and suffer
what we are doing.
A circumstance which was such as to afford me no light con-
solation I cannot but mention to you, in the hope that it may
be allowed to contribute equally towards mitigating your grief.
As I was returning from Asia, when sailing from Ægina in the
direction of Megara, I began to look around me at the various
places by which I was surrounded. Behind me was Ægina, in
front Megara; on the right the Piræus, on the left Corinth;
all of them towns that in former days were most magnificent,
but are
now lying prostrate and in ruins before one's eyes. "Ah
me," I began to reflect to myself, "we poor feeble mortals, who
can claim but a short life in comparison, complain as though a
wrong was done us if one of our number dies in the course of


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3703
nature, or has met his death by violence; and here in one spot
are lying stretched out before me the corpses of so many cities!
Servius, be master of yourself, and remember that it is the lot of
man to which you have been born. " Believe me, I found
myself in no small degree strengthened by these reflections.
Let me advise you too, if you think good, to keep this reflection
before your eyes.
How lately at one and the same time have
many of our most illustrious men fallen! how grave an encroach-
ment has been made on the rights of the sovereign people of
Rome! every province in the world has been convulsed with the
shock: if the frail life of a tender woman has gone too, who
being born to the common lot of man must needs have died in
a few short years, even if the time had not come for her now,
are you thus utterly stricken down?
Do you then also recall your feelings and your thoughts from
dwelling on this subject, and as beseems your character bethink
yourself rather of this: that she has lived as long as life was of
value to her; that she has passed away only together with her
country's freedom; that she lived to see her father elected Præ-
tor, Consul, Augur; that she had been the wife of young men
of the first rank; that after enjoying well-nigh every blessing
that life can offer, she left it only when the Republic itself was
falling. The account is closed, and what have you, what has
she, to charge of injustice against Fate? In a word, forget not
that you are Cicero - that you are he who was always wont to
guide others and give them good advice; and be not like those
quack physicians who when others are sick boast that they hold
the key of the knowledge of medicine, to heal themselves are
never able; but rather minister to yourself with your own hand
the remedies which you are in the habit of prescribing for
others, and put them plainly before your own soul. There is
no pain so great but the lapse of time will lessen and assuage
it: it is not like yourself to wait until this time comes, instead
of stepping forward by your philosophy to anticipate that result.
And if even those who are low in the grave have any conscious-
ness at all, such was her love for you and her tenderness for all
around her that surely she does not wish to see this in you.
Make this a tribute then to her who is dead; to all your friends
and relations who are mourning in your grief; and make it to
your country also, that if in anything the need should arise she
may be able to trust to your energy and guidance. Finally,


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MARCUS TULLIUS CICERO
since such is the condition we have come to, that even this con-
sideration must perforce be obeyed, do not let your conduct
induce any one to believe that it is not so much your daughter
as the circumstances of the Republic and the victory of others.
which you are deploring.
I shrink from writing to you at greater length upon this
subject, lest I should seem to be doubtful of your own good
sense; allow
me therefore to put before you one more con-
sideration, and then I will bring my letter to a close. We have
seen you not once but many times bearing prosperity most
gracefully, and gaining yourself great reputation thereby: let us
see at last that you are capable also of bearing adversity equally
well, and that it is not in your eyes a heavier burden than it
ought to seem; lest we should think that of all the virtues this
is the only one in which you are wanting.
As for myself, when I find you are more composed in mind
I will send you information about all that is being done in these
parts, and the state in which the province finds itself at present.
Farewell.
CICERO'S REPLY TO SULPICIUS
YES
´ES, my dear Servius, I could indeed wish you had been with
me, as you say, at the time of my terrible trial. How
much it was in your power to help me if you had been here,
by sympathizing with, and I may almost say, sharing equally in
my grief, I readily perceive from the fact that after reading your
letter I now feel myself considerably more composed; for not
only was all that you wrote just what is best calculated to soothe
affliction, but you yourself in comforting me showed that you too
had no little pain at heart. Your son Servius however has made
it clear, by every kindly attention which such an occasion would
permit of, both how great his respect was for myself and also
how much pleasure his kind feeling for me was likely to give
you; and you may be sure that, while such attentions from him
have often been more pleasant to me, they have never made
me more grateful.
It is not however only your arguments and your equal share,
in this affliction which comforts me,
I may almost call it,
but also your authority; because I hold it shame in me not to
be bearing my trouble in a way that you, a man endowed with
-
-


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3705
such wisdom, think it ought to be borne. But at times I do
feel broken down, and I scarcely make any struggle against
my grief, because those consolations fail me which under simi-
lar calamities were never wanting to any of those other people
whom I put before myself as models for imitation. Both Fab-
ius Maximus, for example, when he lost a son who had held
the consulship, the hero of many a famous exploit; and Lacius
Paulus, from whom two were taken in one week; and your own
kinsman Gallus; and Marcus Cato, who was deprived of a son
of the rarest talents and the rarest virtue,- all these lived in
times when their individual affliction was capable of finding a
solace in the distinctions they used to earn from their country.
For me, however, after being stripped of all those distinctions
which you yourself recall to me, and which I had won for myself
by unparalleled exertions, only that one solace remained which.
has been torn away. My thoughts were not diverted by work
for my friends, or by the administration of affairs of state;
there was no pleasure in pleading in the courts; I could not
bear the very sight of the Senate House; I felt, as was indeed.
too true, that I had lost all the harvest of both my industry and
my success. But whenever I wanted to recollect that all this
was shared with you and other friends I could name, and when-
ever I was breaking myself in and forcing my spirit to bear
these things with patience, I always had a refuge to go to where
I might find peace, and in whose words of comfort and sweet
society I could rid me of all my pains and griefs. Whereas now,
under this terrible blow, even those old wounds which seemed
to have healed up are bleeding afresh; for it is impossible for
me now to find such a refuge from my sorrows at home in the
business of the State, as in those days I did in that consolation
of home, which was always in store whenever I came away sad
from thoughts of State to seek for peace in her happiness. And
so I stay away both from home and from public life; because
home now is no more able to make up for the sorrow I feel
when I think of our country, than our country is for my sorrow
at home. I am therefore looking forward all the more eagerly
to your coming, and long to see you as early as that may pos-
sibly be; no greater alleviation can be offered me than a meet-
ing between us for friendly intercourse and conversation. I hope
however that your return is to take place, as I hear it is, very
shortly. As for myself, while there are abundant reasons for


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MARCUS TULLIUS CICERO
wanting to see you as soon as possible, my principal one is in
order that we may discuss together beforehand the best method
of conduct for present circumstances, which must entirely be
adapted to the wishes of one man only, a man nevertheless who
is far-seeing and generous, and also, as I think I have thoroughly
ascertained, to me not at all ill-disposed and to you extremely
friendly. But admitting this, it is still a matter for much delib-
eration what is the line,-I do not say of action, but of keeping
quiet, that we ought by his good leave and favor to adopt.
Farewell.
――――
A HOMESICK EXILE
I
SEND this with love, my dearest Terentia, hoping that you
and my little Tullia and my Marcus are all well.
From the letters of several people and the talk of every-
body I hear that your courage and endurance are simply
wonderful, and that no troubles of body or mind can exhaust
your energy. How unhappy I am to think that with all your
courage and devotion, your virtues and gentleness, you should
have fallen into such misfortunes for me! And my sweet Tullia
too, that she who was once so proud of her father should have
to undergo such troubles owing to him! And what shall I say
about my boy Marcus, who ever since his faculties of perception
awoke has felt the sharpest pangs of sorrow and misery? Now
could I but think, as you tell me, that all this comes in the
natural course of things, I could bear it a little easier. But it
has been brought about entirely by my own fault, for thinking
myself loved by those who were jealous of me, and turning from
those who wanted to win me.
I have thanked the
people you wanted me to, and mentioned that my information
came from you. As to the block of houses which you tell me
you mean to sell-why, good heavens! my dear Terentia, what
is to be done! Oh, what troubles I have to bear! And if
misfortune continues to persecute us, what will become of our
poor boy? I cannot continue to write-my tears are too much
for me; nor would I wish to betray you into the same emotion.
All I can say is that if our friends act up to their bounden
duty we shall not want for money; if they do not, you will not
be able to succeed only with your own. Let our unhappy for-
tunes, I entreat you, be a warning to us not to ruin our boy,


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3707
who is ruined enough already. If he only has something to save
him from absolute want, a fair share of talent and a fair share
of luck will be all that is necessary to win anything else. Do
not neglect your health; and send me messengers with letters to
let me know what goes on, and how you yourselves are faring.
My suspense in any case cannot now be long. Give my love to
my little Tullia and my Marcus.
DYRRACHIUM, Nov. 26.
P. S. -I have moved to Dyrrachium because it is not only a
free city, but very much in my interest, and quite near to Italy;
but if the bustle of the place proves an annoyance I shall betake
myself elsewhere and give you notice.
CICERO'S VACILLATION IN THE CIVIL WAR
B
EING in extreme agitation about these great and terrible
events, and having no means of discussing matters with you
in person, I want at any rate to avail myself of your judg-
ment. Now the question about which I am in doubt is simply
this: If Pompeius should fly from Italy (which I suspect he will
do), how do you think I ought to act? To make it easier for
you to advise me, I will briefly set forth the arguments that
occur to me on both sides of the question.
The obligations that Pompeius laid me under in the matter of
my restoration, my own intimacy with him, and also my patriot-
ism, incline me to think that I ought to make my decision as
his decision, or in other words, my fortunes as his fortunes.
There is this reason also: If I stay behind and desert my post
among that band of true and illustrious patriots, I must perforce
fall completely under the yoke of one man. Now although he
frequently takes occasion to show himself friendly to me
indeed, as you well know, anticipating this storm that is now
hanging over our heads, I took good care that he should be so
long ago-still I have to consider two different questions: first,
how far can I trust him; and secondly,―assuming it to be abso-
lutely certain that he is friendly disposed to me,- would it show
the brave man or the honest citizen to remain in a city where
one has filled the highest offices of peace and war, achieved
immortal deeds, and been crowned with the honors of her most
――――


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MARCUS TULLIUS CICERO
dignified priesthood, only to become an empty name and undergo
some risk, attended also very likely with considerable disgrace,
should Pompeius ever again grasp the helm? So much for this
side; see now what may be said on the other.
Pompeius has in our cause done nothing wisely, nothing
strongly; nothing, I may add, that has not been contrary to my
opinion and advice. I pass over those old complaints, that it
was he who himself nourished this enemy of the republic, gave
him his honors, put the sword into his hand-that it was he
who advised him to force laws through by violence, trampling on
the warnings of religion-that it was he who made the addi-
tion of Transalpine Gaul, he who is his son-in-law, he who as
Augur allowed the adoption of Clodius; who showed more activity
in recalling me than in preventing my exile; who took it on him
to extend Cæsar's term of government; who supported all his
proceedings while he was away; that he too even in his third
consulship, after he had begun to pose as a defender of the con-
stitution, actually exerted himself to get the ten tribunes to pro-
pose that absence should not invalidate the election; nay more,
he expressly sanctioned this by one of his own acts, and opposed
the consul Marcus Marcellus, who proposed that the tenure of
the Gallic provinces should come to an end on the 1st of March
— but anyhow, to pass over all this, what could be more dis-
creditable, what more blundering, than this evacuation of the
city, or I had better say, this ignominious flight? What terms
ought not to have been accepted sooner than abandon our coun-
try? The terms were bad? That I allow; but is anything worse
than this? But he will win back the constitution? When?
What preparations have been made to warrant such a hope?
Have we not lost all Picenum? have we not left open the road
to the capital? have we not abandoned the whole of our treasure,
public and private, to the foe? In a word, there is no common
cause, no strength, no centre, to draw such people together as
might yet care to show fight for the Republic. Apulia has been
chosen the most thinly populated part of Italy, and the most
remote from the line of movement of this war: it would seem
that in despair they were looking for flight, with some easy
access to the coast. I took the charge of Capua much against
my will not that I would evade that duty, but in a cause which
evoked no sympathy from any class as a whole, nor any openly
even from individuals (there was some of course among the good
—
――


## p. 3709 (#65) ############################################

MARCUS TULLIUS CICERO
3709
citizens, but as languid as usual), and where I saw for myself
that the mass of the people, and all the lowest stratum, were
more and more inclined to the other side, many even longing for
a revolution, I told him to his face I would undertake to do
nothing without forces and without money. Consequently I have
had no responsibility at all, because I saw from the very first
that nothing was really intended but flight. Say that I now
follow this; then whither? Not with him; I had already set out
to join him when I found that Cæsar was in those parts, so that
I could not safely reach Luceria. I must sail by the western
sea, in the depth of winter, not knowing where to steer for.
And again, what about being with my brother, or leaving him
and taking my son? How then must I act, since either alterna-
tive will involve the greatest difficulty, the greatest mental
anxiety? And then, too, what a raid he will make on me and
my fortunes when I am out of the way-fiercer than on other
people, because he will think perhaps that in outrages on me he
holds a means of popularity. Again, these fetters, remember,-
I mean these laurels on my attendants' staves,- how inconvenient
it is to take them out of Italy! What place indeed will be safe
for me, supposing I now find the sea calm enough, before I
have actually joined him? though where that will be and how
to get there, I have no notion.
On the other hand, say that I stop where I am and find
some place on this side of the water, then my conduct will pre-
cisely resemble that of Philippus, or Lucius Flaccus, or Quintus
Mucius under Cinna's reign of terror. And however this decision
ended for the last-named, yet still he at any rate used to say
that he saw what really did happen would occur, but that it was
his deliberate choice in preference to marching sword in hand
against the homes of the very city that gave him birth. With
Thrasybulus it was otherwise, and perhaps better; but still there
is a sound basis for the policy and sentiments of Mucius; as
there is also for this [which Philippus did]: to wait for your
opportunity when you must, just as much as not to lose your
opportunity when it is given. But even in this case, those staves
again of my attendants still involve some awkwardness; for say
that his feelings are friendly to me (I am not sure that this is
so, but let us assume it), then he will offer me a triumph. I
fear that to decline may be perilous [to accept] an offense with
all good citizens. Ah, you exclaim, what a difficult, what an


## p.
3710 (#66) ############################################

3710
MARCUS TULLIUS CICERO
insoluble problem! Yet the solution must be found; for what
can one do? And lest you should have formed the idea that I
am rather inclined towards staying because I have argued more
on that side of the question, it is quite possible, as is so fre-
quently the case in debates, that one side has more words, the
other more worth. Therefore I should be glad if when you give
me your opinion you would look upon me as making up my
mind quite dispassionately on a most important question. I have
a ship both at Caieta and at Brundisium.
But lo and behold, while I am writing you these very lines
by night in my house at Cales, in come the couriers, and here is
a letter to say that Cæsar is before Corfinium, and that in Cor-
finium is Domitius, with an army resolute and even eager for
battle. I do not think our chief will go so far as to be guilty
of abandoning Domitius, though it is true he had already sent
Scipio on before with two cohorts to Brundisium, and written a
dispatch to the consuls ordering that the legion enrolled by
Faustus should go under the command of one consul to Sicily:
but it is a scandal that Domitius should be left to his fate when
he is imploring him for help. There is some hope, not in my
opinion a very good one, but strong in these parts, that there
has been a battle in the Pyrenees between Afranius and Tre-
bonius; that Trebonius has been beaten off; that your friend
Fabius also has come over to us with all his troops; and to
crown it all, that Afranius is advancing with a strong force. If
this be so, we shall perhaps make a stand in Italy. As for me,
since Cæsar's route is uncertain - he is expected about equally by
way of Capua and of Luceria-I have sent Lepta to Pompeius
with a letter, while I myself, for fear of falling in with him any-
where, have started again for Formiæ. I thought it best to let
you know this, and am writing with more composure than I have
written of late; not inserting any opinion of my own, but trying
to elicit yours.


## p. 3711 (#67) ############################################

MARCUS TULLIUS CICERO
3711
CICERO'S CORRESPONDENTS
IT SEEMS desirable to add a few letters by other hands than
Cicero's, to indicate the manifold side-lights thrown on the inner his-
tory of this intensely interesting period. Sulpicius's famous attempt
at consolation has already been given above. Two brief letters by
Cæsar will illustrate the dictator's marvelous ability to comprehend
and control other men. Pompey's gruff rudeness forms a contrast
which is hardly accidental on the editor's part. Cælius's wit is bit-
ing as ever; and lastly, Matius's protest against being persecuted
merely because he, who loved Cæsar, openly mourned for his dead
friend, has an unconscious tone of simple heroism unequaled in the
entire correspondence.
W. C. L.
CÆSAR TO CICERO
know me too well not to keep up your character as an
Yugur by divining that nothing is more entirely alien from
my nature than cruelty: I will add that while my decision
is in itself a great source of pleasure to me, to find my conduct
approved by you is a triumph of gratification. Nor does the fact
at all disturb me that those people whom I have set at liberty
are reported to have gone their ways only to renew the attack
upon me; because there is nothing I wish more than that I may
ever be as true to my own character as they to theirs.
May I hope that you will be near town when I am there, so
that I may as usual avail myself in everything of your advice
and means of assistance? Let me assure you that I am charmed
beyond everything with your relation Dolabella, to whom I shall
acknowledge myself indeed indebted for this obligation; for his
kindliness is so great, and his feeling and affection for me are
such, that he cannot possibly do otherwise.
CÆSAR TO CICERO
HOUGH I had fully made up my mind that you would do
nothing rashly, nothing imprudently, still I was so far im-
pressed by the rumors in some quarters as to think it my
duty to write to you, and ask it as a favor due to our mutual
regard that you will not take any step, now that the scale is so
decisively turned, which you would not have thought it necessary


## p. 3712 (#68) ############################################

MARCUS TULLIUS CICERO
3712
to take even though the balance still stood firm. For it will
really be both a heavier blow to our friendship, and a step on
your part still less judicious for yourself, if you are to be thought
not even to have bowed the knee to success for things seem to
have fallen out as entirely favorably for us as disastrously for
them; nor yet to have been drawn by attachment to a particu-
lar cause for that has undergone no change since you decided
to remain aloof from their counsels; - but to have passed a stern
judgment on some act of mine, than which, from you, no more
painful thing could befall me; and I claim the right of our
friendship to entreat that you will not take this course.
Finally, what more suitable part is there for a good peace-
loving man, and a good citizen, than to keep aloof from civil
dissensions? There were not a few who admired this course, but
could not adopt it by reason of its danger: you, after having
duly weighed both the conclusions of friendship and the unmis-
takable evidence of my whole life, will find that there is no
safer nor
more honorable course than to keep entirely aloof
from the struggle.
-
POMPEY TO CICERO
-
TOD
O-DAY, the 10th of February, Fabius Vergilianus has joined
me. From him I learn that Domitius with his eleven
cohorts, and fourteen cohorts that Vibullius has brought
up, is on his way to me. His intention was to start from Cor-
finium on the 13th, Hirrus to follow soon after with five of the
cohorts. I decide that you are to come to us at Luceria; here,
I think, you will be most in safety.
CELIUS IN ROME TO CICERO IN CILICIA
THE
HE capture of his Parthian Majesty and the storming of Se-
leuceia itself had not been enough to compensate for missing
the sight of our doings here. Your eyes would never have
ached again if you had only seen the face of Domitius when he
was not elected! The election was important, and it was quite
clear that party feeling determined the side which people took:
only a few could be brought to acknowledge the claims of friend-
ship. Consequently Domitius is so furious with me that he
arcely hates any of his most intimate friends as much as he
scar


## p. 3713 (#69) ############################################

MARCUS TULLIUS CICERO
3713
does me; and all the more because he thinks that it was to do
him wrong that his hopes of being in the College of Augurs are
snatched away, and that I am responsible for it. He is savage
now to see everybody so delighted at his mortification, and
myself more active than anybody, with one exception, on behalf
of Antonius.
As to political prospects, I have often mentioned to you that
I do not see any chance of peace lasting a year; and the nearer
that struggle which must infallibly take place, is drawing to us,
the more manifest does its danger become. The point at issue
about which our lords and masters are going to fight is this:
Pompeius has absolutely determined not to allow Cæsar to be
elected consul on any terms except a previous resignation of his
army and his government, while Cæsar is convinced that he
must inevitably fall if he separates himself from his army. He
offers however this compromise, that they should both of them
resign their armies. So you see their great affection for one
another and their much-abused alliance has not even dwindled
down into suppressed jealousy, but has broken out into open
war. Nor can I discover what is the wisest course to take in
my own interests: a question which I make no doubt will give
much trouble to you also. For while I have both interest and
connections among those who are on one side, on the other too it
is the cause and not the men themselves I dislike. You are not, I
feel sure, blind to the fact that where parties are divided within
a country, we are bound, so long as the struggle is carried on
with none but constitutional weapons, to support the more honor-
able cause, but when we come to blows and to open war, then
the safer one; and to count that cause the better which is the
less likely to be dangerous. In the present division of feeling I
see that Pompeius will have the Senate and all judicially minded
people on his side; those who have everything to dread and little
to hope for will flock to Cæsar: the army is not to be compared.
On the whole, we have plenty of time for balancing the strength
of parties and making our decision.
I had all but forgotten my principal reason for writing. Have
you heard of the wonderful doings of our censor Appius-how
he is rigorously inquiring into our statues and pictures, our
amount of land, and our debts? He has persuaded himself that
his censorship is a moral soap or toilet powder. He is wrong, I
take it; for while he only wants to wash off the dirt, he is really
Vi-233


## p. 3714 (#70) ############################################

MARCUS TULLIUS CICERO
3714
laying bare his veins and his flesh. Heaven and earth! you
must run, and come to laugh at the things here - Appius ques-
tioning about pictures and statues. You must make haste, I
assure you.
Our friend Curio is thought to have acted wisely in giving
way about the pay of Pompeius's troops. If I must sum up my
opinion, as you ask, about what will happen-unless one or
other of them consents to go and fight the Parthians, I see a
great split impending, which will be settled by the sword and
by force; each is well inclined for this and well equipped. If it
could only be without danger to yourself, you would find this a
great and most attractive drama which Fortune is rehearsing.
MATIUS TO CICERO
I
RECEIVED great pleasure from your letter, because I found that
your opinion of me was what I had hoped and wished it to
be; not that I was in any doubt about it, but for the very
reason that I valued it so highly, I was most anxious that it
should remain unimpaired. Conscious however that I had done
nothing which could give offense to the feelings of any good.
citizen, I was naturally the less inclined to believe that you,
adorned as you are with so many excellences of the most admi-
rable kind, could have allowed yourself to be convinced of any-
thing on mere idle report; particularly seeing that you were a
friend for whom my spontaneous attachment had been and still
was unbroken. And knowing now that it has been as I hoped,
I will answer those attacks which you have often opposed on my
behalf, as was fairly to be expected from your well-known gen-
erosity and the friendship existing between us.
For I am well aware of all they have been heaping on me
since Cæsar's death. They make it a reproach against me that I
go heavily for the loss of a friend, and think it cruel that one
whom I loved should have fallen, because, say they, country
must be put before friends-as though they have hitherto been
successful in proving that his death really was the gain of the
commonwealth. But I will not enter any subtle plea; I admit
that I have not attained to your higher grades of philosophy: for
I have neither been a partisan of Cæsar in our civil dissensions,
-
- though I did not abandon my friend even when his action


## p. 3715 (#71) ############################################

MARCUS TULLIUS CICERO
3715
was a stumbling-block to me,- nor did I ever give my approval
to the civil war, or even to the actual ground of quarrel, of
which indeed I earnestly desired that the first sparks should be
trampled out. And so in the triumph of a personal friend I
was never ensnared by the charms either of place or of money;
prizes which have been recklessly abused by the rest, though they
had less influence with him than I had. I may even say that
my own private property was impaired by that act of Cæsar,
thanks to which many of those who are rejoicing at Cæsar's
death continued to live in their own country. That our defeated
fellow countrymen should be spared was as much an object to
me as my own safety. Is it possible then for me, who wanted
all to be left uninjured, not to feel indignation that he by whom
this was secured is dead? above all when the very same men
were the cause at once of his unpopularity and his untimely end.
You shall smart then, say they, since you dare to disapprove of
our deed. What unheard-of insolence! One man then may
boast of a deed, which another is not even allowed to lament
without punishment. Why, even slaves have always been free
of this - to feel their fears, their joys, their sorrows as their
own, and not at anybody else's dictation; and these are the very
things which now, at least according to what your "liberators »
have always in their mouths, they are trying to wrest from us
by terrorism. But they try in vain. There is no danger which
has terrors enough ever to make me desert the side of gratitude
or humanity; for never have I thought that death in a good
cause is to be shunned, often indeed that it deserves to be
courted. But why are they inclined to be enraged with me, if
my wishes are simply that they may come to regret their deed,
desiring as I do that Cæsar's death may be felt to be untimely
by us all? It is my duty as a citizen to desire the preservation
of the constitution? Well, unless both my life in the past and
all my hopes for the future prove without any words of mine
that I do earnestly desire this, I make no demand to prove it
by my professions.
-
To you therefore I make a specially earnest appeal to let
facts come before assertions, and to take my word for it that, if
you feel that honesty is the best policy, it is impossible I should
have any association with lawless villains.
Or can you
believe
that the principles I pursued in the days of my youth, when
even error could pass with some excuse, I shall renounce now


## p. 3716 (#72) ############################################

3716
MARCUS TULLIUS CICERO
that I am going down the hill, and with my own hands unravel
all the web of my life? That I will not do; nor yet will I com-
mit any act that could give offense, beyond the fact that I do
lament the sad fall of one who was to me the dearest friend
and the most illustrious of men. But were I otherwise disposed,
I would never deny what I was doing, lest it should be thought
I was at once shameless in doing wrong and false and cowardly
in dissembling it.
But then I undertook the management of those games which
Cæsar's heir celebrated for Cæsar's victory? Well, this is a mat-
ter which belongs to one's private obligations, not to any politi-
cal arrangement; it was however in the first place a tribute of
respect which I was called upon to pay to the memory and the
eminent position of a man whom I dearly loved, even though he
was dead, and also one that I could not refuse at the request of
a young man so thoroughly promising, and so worthy in every
way of Cæsar as he is.
Again, I have frequently paid visits of compliment to the con-
sul Antonius. And you will find that the very men who think
me but a lukewarm patriot are constantly going to his house
in crowds, actually for the purpose of soliciting or carrying away
some favor. But what a monstrous claim it is, that while Cæsar
never laid any such embargo as this to prevent me from associ-
ating freely with anybody I pleased, even if they were people
whom he personally did not like,-these men who have robbed
me of my friend should attempt by malicious insinuations to
prevent my showing a kindness to whomsoever I will!
I have however no fear that the moderation of my life will
hereafter prove an insufficient defense against false insinuations,
and that even those who do not love me, because of my loyalty
to Cæsar, would not rather have their own friend imitate me
than themselves. Such of life as remains to me, at least if I
succeed in what I desire, I shall spend in quiet at Rhodes; but
if I find that some chance has put a stop to this, I shall simply
live at Rome as one who is always desirous that right should be
done.
I am deeply grateful to our good friend Trebatius for having
thus disclosed to me your sincere and friendly feeling, and given
me even an additional reason for honoring and paying respect
to one whom it has always been a pleasure to me to regard as
a friend. Farewell heartily, and let me have your esteem.


## p. 3717 (#73) ############################################

MARCUS TULLIUS CICERO
THE DREAM OF SCIPIO
From the Dialogue (The Republic: Translation of Prof. T. R. Lounsbury.
Copyrighted by Ginn & Co.
--
3717
WHE
HEN I went into Africa with the consul Manius Manilius,
holding the rank, as you are aware, of military tribune
of the fourth legion, nothing lay nearer to my heart than
to meet Masinissa, a king who, for good reasons, was on the
most friendly terms with our family. When I had come to him,
the old man embraced me with tears, and then looking up to
heaven, said: "I give thanks to thee, O supremest Sol, and to
you, ye inhabitants of heaven! that before I depart this life I
behold in my dominions, and under this roof, Publius Cornelius
Scipio, by whose very name I am revived: so never passes away
from my mind the memory of that best and most invincible hero. "
Thereupon I made inquiries of him as to the state of his own
kingdom, and he of me as to our republic; and with many words
uttered on both sides, we spent the whole of that day.
Moreover, after partaking of a repast prepared with royal
magnificence, we prolonged the conversation late into the night.
The old man would speak of nothing but Africanus, and remem-
bered not only all his deeds, but likewise his sayings. After
we parted to go to bed, a sounder sleep than usual fell upon
me, partly on account of weariness occasioned by the journey,
and partly because I had stayed up to a late hour. Then Africa-
nus appeared to me, I think in consequence of what we had
been talking about; for it often happens that our thoughts and
speeches bring about in sleep something of that illusion of which
Ennius writes in regard to himself and Homer, of which poet
he was very often accustomed to think and speak while awake.
Africanus showed himself to me in that form which was better
known to me from his ancestral image than from my recollection
of his person. As soon as I recognized him I was seized with
a fit of terror; but he thereupon said:
"Be of good courage, O Scipio! Lay aside fear, and commit
to memory these things which I am about to say. Do you see
that State which, compelled by me to submit to the Roman
people, renews its former wars, and cannot endure to remain at
peace ? »
At these words, from a certain lustrous and bright
place, very high and full of stars, he pointed out to me Carthage.
"To fight against that city thou now comest in a rank but little
-:


## p. 3717 (#74) ############################################

3716
MARCUS TULLIUS CICERO
that I am going down the hill, and with my
all the web of my life? That I will not do
mit any act that could give offense, beyo
lament the sad fall of one who was to
and the most illustrious of men. But we
I would never deny what I was doing, 1
I was at once shameless in doing wrong
in dissembling it.
But then I undertook the managem
Cæsar's heir celebrated for Cæsar's vic
ter which belongs to one's private o
cal arrangement; it was however in
respect which I was called upon to
eminent position of a man whom I
was dead, and also one that I coul
a young man so thoroughly prom
way of Cæsar as he is.
Again, I have frequently paid
sul Antonius. And you will fi
me but a lukewarm patriot ar
in crowds, actually for the pur
some favor. But what a mons
never laid any such embargo
ating freely with anybody I
whom he personally did no
me of my friend should:
prevent my showing a kin
I have however no fea
hereafter prove an insuffic
and that even those who
to Cæsar, would not r
than themselves. Such
succeed in what I desi
if I find that some chan
live at Rome as one wh
done.
I am deeply gratef
thus disclosed to me
me even an ada
to one whe
me
dence
ricarus
But when
e honor of
during thy
put an end to
But when thou
the capito, thou
of my grandson.
exhibit the purity
thy judgment. But
tself, as if the Fates
have completed eight
these two numbers (each
the one for one reason,
mplished for thee by
Ect, to thee alone and
upon thee the Senate,
the allies, upon thee the
be the one upon whom
in short, as dictator, it
d regulate the republic,
mous hands of kinsmen. "
exclamation of sorrow, and
So, slightly smiling, said,
rake me from my dream,
be the more zealous in
:: For all who have pre-
aggrandized their country,
ace, where they enjoy an
that highest God who gov-
which can be done on
tations of men and unions,
ch are called States. The
depart from this place, and to it

terror not so much at the fear of
of treacher on the part of those akin
this point: had the courage to ask
Pauls was g, and others whom we


## p. 3717 (#75) ############################################

3719
said he: "they alone
tters of the body, as if
your life is nothing but
thy father Paulus coming
I burst into a violent fit of
and kissing me, forbade my
ecked my tears and was able
ell me, I beseech thee, O best
this is life, as I hear Africanus
Why shall I not hasten to go to
not until that God, whose temple
t, shall have freed thee from the
ny entrance lie open to thee here.
the world with this design, that they
e that globe which thou seest in the
and which is called 'Earth. ' To them a
se everlasting fires which you name con-
which, in the form of globes and spheres,
rapidity the rounds of their orbits under the
telligences. Wherefore by thee, O Publius!
en, the soul must be kept in the guardianship
without the command of Him by whom it is
there be any departure from this mortal life,
to have shunned the discharge of that duty as
s been assigned to you by God. But, O Scipio!
randfather who stands here, like as I who gave
rish the sense of justice and loyal affection; which
wever great measure due to thy parents and kins-
st of all due to thy country. Such a life is the way
, and to that congregation of those who have ended
ays on earth, and freed from the body, dwell in that
. . hich you see,- that place which, as you have learned
The Greeks, you are in the habit of calling the Milky Way. "
his was a circle, shining among the celestial fires with a
tbrilliant whiteness. As I looked from it, all other things
ned magnificent and wonderful. Moreover, they were such
rs as we have never seen from this point of space, and all of
ch magnitude as we have never even suspected. Among them,
that was the least which, the farthest from heaven, and the
nearest to earth, shone with a borrowed light. But the starry
globes far exceeded the size of the earth: indeed the eart


## p. 3718 (#76) ############################################

3718
MARCUS TULLIUS CICERO
above that of a private soldier; but in two years from this time
thou shalt as consul utterly overthrow it, and in consequence
shalt gain by thy own exertions that very surname of Africanus
which up to this time thou hast inherited from us. But when
thou shalt have destroyed Carthage, shalt have had the honor of
a triumph, and shalt have been censor, thou shalt during thy
absence be chosen consul for a second time, shalt put an end to
to a great war, and lay Numantia in ruins. But when thou
shalt be carried in thy triumphal chariot to the capitol, thou
wilt find the republic disturbed by the designs of my grandson.
Then, O Scipio! it will be necessary that thou exhibit the purity
and greatness of thy heart, thy soul, and thy judgment. But
I see at that time a double way disclose itself, as if the Fates
were undecided; for when thy life shall have completed eight
times seven revolutions of the sun, and these two numbers (each
one of which is looked upon as perfect; the one for one reason,
the other for another) shall have accomplished for thee by
their natural revolution the fatal product, to thee alone and
to thy name the whole State shall turn; upon thee the Senate,
upon thee all good men, upon thee the allies, upon thee the
Latins, will fasten their eyes; thou wilt be the one upon whom
the safety of the State shall rest; and in short, as dictator, it
will be incumbent on thee to establish and regulate the republic,
if thou art successful in escaping the impious hands of kinsmen. ”
At this point, Lælius uttered an exclamation of sorrow, and
the rest groaned more deeply; but Scipio, slightly smiling, said,
Keep silence, I beg of you. Do not awake me from my dream,
and hear the rest of his words:
"But, O Africanus! that thou mayest be the more zealous in
the defense of the republic, know this: For all who have pre-
served, who have succored, who have aggrandized their country,
there is in heaven a certain fixed place, where they enjoy an
eternal life of blessedness. For to that highest God who gov-
erns the whole world there is nothing which can be done on
earth more dear than those combinations of men and unions,
made under the sanction of law, which are called States. The
rulers and preservers of them depart from this place, and to it
they return. "
I had been filled with terror, not so much at the fear of
death as at the prospect of treachery on the part of those akin
to me; nevertheless at this point I had the courage to ask
whether my father Paulus was living, and others whom we


## p. 3719 (#77) ############################################

MARCUS TULLIUS CICERO
3719
thought to be annihilated. "Certainly," said he: "they alone
live who have been set free from the fetters of the body, as if
from prison; for that which you call your life is nothing but
death. Nay, thou mayest even behold thy father Paulus coming
towards thee. "
No sooner had I seen him than I burst into a violent fit of
tears; but he thereupon, embracing and kissing me, forbade my
weeping. I, as soon as I had checked my tears and was able
again to speak, said to him, "Tell me, I beseech thee, O best
and most sacred father! since this is life, as I hear Africanus
say, why do I tarry upon earth? Why shall I not hasten to go to
you? "—"Not so," said he; "not until that God, whose temple
is all this which thou seest, shall have freed thee from the
bonds of the body, can any entrance lie open to thee here.
For men are brought into the world with this design, that they
may protect and preserve that globe which thou seest in the
middle of this temple, and which is called 'Earth. ' To them a
soul is given from these everlasting fires which you name con-
stellations and stars, which, in the form of globes and spheres,
run with incredible rapidity the rounds of their orbits under the
impulse of divine intelligences. Wherefore by thee, O Publius!
and by all pious men, the soul must be kept in the guardianship
of the body; nor without the command of Him by whom it is
given to you can there be any departure from this mortal life,
lest you seem to have shunned the discharge of that duty as
men which has been assigned to you by God. But, O Scipio!
like as thy grandfather who stands here, like as I who gave
thee life, cherish the sense of justice and loyal affection; which
latter, in however great measure due to thy parents and kins-
men, is most of all due to thy country. Such a life is the way
to heaven, and to that congregation of those who have ended
their days on earth, and freed from the body, dwell in that
place which you see, that place which, as you have learned
from the Greeks, you are in the habit of calling the Milky Way. "
This was a circle, shining among the celestial fires with a
most brilliant whiteness. As I looked from it, all other things
seemed magnificent and wonderful. Moreover, they were such
stars as we have never seen from this point of space, and all of
such magnitude as we have never even suspected. Among them,
that was the least which, the farthest from heaven, and the
nearest to earth, shone with a borrowed light. But the starry
globes far exceeded the size of the earth: indeed the earth


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3720
MARCUS TULLIUS CICERO
itself appeared to me so small that I had a feeling of mortifica-
tion at the sight of our empire, which took up what seemed to
be but a point of it.
.
As I kept my eyes more intently fixed upon this spot, Afri-
canus said to me:-"How long, I beg of thee, will thy spirit be
chained down to earth? Seest thou not into what a holy place
thou hast come? Everything is bound together in nine circles,
or rather spheres, of which the farthest is the firmament, which
embraces the rest, is indeed the supreme God himself, confining
and containing all the others. To that highest heaven are fixed
those orbits of the stars which eternally revolve. Below it are
seven spheres, which move backward with a motion contrary to
that of the firmament. One of these belongs to that star which
on earth they call Saturn; then follows that shining orb, the
source of happiness and health to the human race, which is
called Jupiter; then the red planet, bringing terror to the nations,
to which you give the name of Mars; then, almost directly un-
der the middle region, stands the sun,- the leader, the chief,
the governor of the other luminaries, the soul of the universe,
and its regulating principle, of a size so vast that it penetrates
and fills everything with its own light. Upon it, as if they
were an escort, follow two spheres, - the one of Venus, the other
of Mercury; and in the lowest circle revolves the moon, illumi-
nated by the rays of the sun. Below it there is nothing which is
not mortal and transitory, save the souls which are given to
mankind by the gift of the gods; above the moon, all things are
eternal. For that ninth sphere, which is in the middle, is the
earth: it has no motion; it is the lowest in space; and all heavy
bodies are borne toward it by their natural downward tendency. "
I looked at these, lost in wonder. As soon as I had recovered
myself I said, "What is this sound, so great and so sweet,
which fills my ears? "-"This," he replied, "is that music
which, composed of intervals unequal, but divided proportionately
by rule, is caused by the swing and movement of the spheres
themselves, and by the proper combination of acute tones with
grave, creates with uniformity manifold and diverse harmonies.
For movements so mighty cannot be accomplished in silence;
and it is a law of nature that the farthest sphere on the one
side gives forth a base tone, the farthest on the other a treble;
for which reason the revolution of that uppermost arch of the
heaven, the starry firmament, whose motion is more rapid, is
attended with an acute and high sound; while that of the lowest,


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MARCUS TULLIUS CICERO
3721
or lunar arch, is attended with a very deep and grave sound.
For the ninth sphere, the earth, embracing the middle region of
the universe, stays immovably in one fixed place. But those
eight globes between, two of which have the same essential
action, produce tones, distinguished by intervals, to the number
of seven; which number indeed is the knot of almost all things.
Men of skill, by imitating the result on the strings of the lyre,
or by means of the human voice, have laid open for themselves
a way of return to this place, just as other men of lofty souls
have done the same by devoting themselves during their earthly
life to the study of what is divine. But the ears of men, sur-
feited by this harmony have become deaf to it; nor is there in
you any duller sense: just as, at that cataract which is called
Catadupa, where the Nile rushes down headlong from the lofty
mountain-tops,—the people who dwell in that neighborhood have
lost the sense of hearing in consequence of the magnitude of the
sound. So likewise this harmony, produced by the excessively
rapid revolution of the whole universe, is so great that the ears
of men are not able to take it in, in the same manner as you are
not able to look the sun in the eye, and your sight is overcome
by the power of its rays. " Though I was filled with wonder,
nevertheless I kept turning my eyes from time to time to the
earth.
-
"I perceive," then said Africanus, "that thou still continuest
to contemplate the habitation of the home of man. If that seems
to thee as small as it really is, keep then thy eyes fixed on
these heavenly objects; look with contempt on those of mortal
life. For what notoriety that lives in the mouths of men, or
what glory that is worthy of being sought after, art thou able
to secure? Thou seest that the earth is inhabited in a few small
localities, and that between those inhabited places-spots as it
were on the surface - vast desert regions lie spread out; and
that those who inhabit the earth are not only so isolated that no
communication can pass among them from one to another, but
that some dwell in an oblique direction as regards you, some in
a diagonal, and some stand even exactly opposite you.