Quintus, while walking with his brother in the Lyceum at Tusculum, begins his observations by stating, that he had read the third book which Cicero had lately written, on the Nature of the Gods, in which Cotta seemed to contend for atheism, but had by no means been able to refute Balbus. He remarks, at the same time, that the subject of divination had not been treated of in these books, perhaps in order that it might be separately discussed more fully, and that he would gladly, if his brother had leisure and inclination, state his own opinions on the subject. The answer of Cicero is very noble.—“Ego vero, inquam, Philosophiæ, Quinte, semper [pg 254]vaco. Hoc autem tempore, quum sit nihil aliud quod libenter agere possim multo magis aveo audire de divinatione quid sentias.”
Quintus, after observing that divinations of various kinds have been common among all people, remarks, and afterwards frequently repeats, that it is no argument against different modes of divination, that we cannot explain how or why certain things happen. It is sufficient, that we know from experience and history, that they do happen[446]. He contends that Cicero himself supports the doctrine of divination, in the poem on his Consulship, from which he quotes a long passage, sufficient to console us for the loss of that work. He argues, that although events may not always succeed as predicted, it does not follow that divination is not an art, more than that medicine is not an art, because cures may not always be effected. In the course of this book we have a complete account of the state contrivances which were practised by the Roman government, to instil among the people those hopes and fears whereby it regulated public opinion, in which view it has been justly termed a chapter in the history of man. The great charm, however, of the first book, consists in the number of histories adduced by Quintus, in proof of the truth of different kinds of omens, dreams, portents, and divinations.—“Negemus omnia,” says he, “comburamus annales.” He states various circumstances consistent with his and his brother’s own knowledge; and, among others, two remarkable dreams, one of which had occurred to Cicero, and one to himself. He asks if the Greek history be also a fable.—“Num etiam Græcorum historia mentita est?” and, in short, throughout takes the following high ground:—“Quid est, igitur, cur dubitandum sit, quin sint ea, quæ disputavi, verissima? Si ratio mecum facit, si eventa, si populi, si nationes, si Græci, si barbari, si majores etiam nostri, si summi philosophi, si poetæ, et sapientissimi viri qui res publicas constituerunt, qui urbes condiderunt; si denique hoc semper ita putatum est: an dum bestiæ loquantur, expectamus, hominum consentiente auctoritate, contenti non sumus[447]?”
The second book of this work is introduced by a preface, in which Cicero enumerates the philosophical treatises which he had lately written. He then proceeds to state, that at the conclusion of the discourse of Quintus, which was held while they were walking in the Lyceum, they sat down in the library, and he began to reply to his brother’s arguments. His commencement is uncommonly beautiful.—“Atque ego; Accurate tu [pg 255]quidem, inquam, Quinte, et Stoice Stoicorum sententiam defendisti: quodque me maxime delectat, plurimis nostris exemplis usus es, et iis quidem claris et illustribus. Dicendum est mihi igitur ad ea, quæ sunt a te dicta, sed ita, nihil ut affirmem, quæram omnia, dubitans plerumque, et mihi ipse diffidens[448].” It is unnecessary to give any summary of the arguments of Cicero against auguries, auspices, astrology, lots, dreams, and every species of omens and prodigies. His discourse is a masterpiece of reasoning; and if sufficiently studied during the dark ages of Europe, would have sufficed, in a great degree, to have prevented or dispelled the superstitious gloom. Nothing can be finer than the concluding chapter on the evils of superstition, and Cicero’s efforts to extirpate it, without injuring religion. The whole thread, too, of his argumentative eloquence, is interwoven and strengthened by curious and interesting stories. As a specimen of the agreeable manner in which these are introduced, the twenty-fourth chapter may be cited:—“Vetus autem illud Catonis admodum scitum est, qui mirari se aiebat, quod non rideret haruspex, haruspicem quum vidisset. Quota enim quæque res evenit prædicta ab ipsis? Aut si evenit quippiam, quid afferri potest, cur non casu id evenerit? Rex Prusias, quum Annibali apud eum exsulanti depugnari placeret, negabat se audere, quod exta prohiberent. An tu, inquit, carunculæ vitulinæ mavis, quam imperatori veteri, credere? Quid? Ipse Cæsar, quum a summo haruspice moneretur, ne in Africam ante brumam transmitteret, nonne transmisit? Quod ni fecisset, uno in loco omnes adversariorum copiæ convenissent. Quid ego haruspicum responsa commemorem, (possum equidem innumerabilia,) quæ aut nullos habuerunt exitus, aut contrarios? Hoc civili bello, Dii Immortales! Quam multa luserunt—quæ nobis in Græciam Româ responsa haruspicum missa sunt? Quæ dicta Pompeio? Etenim ille admodum extis et ostentis movebatur. Non lubet commemorare, nec vero necesse est, tibi præsertim, qui interfuisti. Vides tamen, omnia fere contra, ac dicta sunt, evenisse.” One great charm of all the philosophical works of Cicero, and particularly of this treatise, consists in the anecdotes with which they abound. This practice of intermingling histories, might have been partly owing to Tully’s habits as a pleader—partly to the works having been composed in “narrative old age.” His moral conclusions seem thus occasionally to have the certainty of physical experiments, by the support which they receive from occurrences, suggested to him by his wide experience; while, at the same time,—
“His candid style, like a clean stream doth slide,
And his bright fancy, all the way,
Doth like the sun-shine on it play[449].”
De Fato.—This tract, which is the last of Cicero’s philosophical works, treats of a subject which occupied as important a place in the metaphysics and theology of the ancients, as free will and necessity have filled in modern speculation. The dialogue De Fato is held in the villa of Cicero, called the Puteolan or the Academia, which was situated on the shore of Baiæ, between the lake Avernus and the harbour of Puteoli. It stood in the curve of the bay, and almost on the beach, so as to enjoy the breezes and murmurs of the sea. The house was built according to the plan of the Academy at Athens, being adorned with a portico and grove, for the purposes of philosophical conference[450]; and with a gallery, which surrounded a square court in the centre. “Twelve or thirteen arches of the Puteolan villa,” says Mr Kelsall, “are still seen on the side next the vineyard, and, intermixed as they are with trees, are very picturesque seen from the sea. These ruins are about one mile from Pozzuolo, and have always been styled l’Academia di Cicerone. Pliny is very circumstantial in the description of the site, ‘Ab Averno lacu Puteolos tendentibus imposita littori.’ The classical traveller will not forget that the Puteolan villa is the scene of some of the orator’s philosophical works. I searched in vain for the mineral spring commemorated by Laurea Tullius, in the well-known complimentary verses preserved by Pliny; for it was defaced by the convulsions which the whole of this tract experienced in the 16th century, so poetically described in Gray’s hexameters.” After the death of Cicero, the villa was acquired by Antistius Vetus, who repaired and improved it. It was subsequently possessed by the Emperor Hadrian, who, while expiring here[451], breathed out the celebrated address to his fleeting, fluttering soul, on its approaching departure for those cold and pallid regions, that must have formed in his fancy such a gloomy contrast to the glowing sunshine and animated shore which he left with so much reluctance.
The dialogue is held between Cicero and Hirtius, on one of the many occasions on which they met to consult concerning the situation of public affairs. Hirtius was the author of [pg 257]the Commentaries on the Civil Wars, and perished a few months afterwards, at the battle of Modena, in the moment of victory. The wonderful events which had recently occurred, and the miserable fate of so many of the greatest and most powerful of the Romans, naturally introduced a conversation on destiny. We have now neither the commencement nor conclusion of the dialogue; but some critics have supposed that it originally consisted of two books, and that the fragment we at present possess formed part of the second book—an opinion which seems justified by a passage in the seventeenth chapter of the second book, where the first conversation is cited. Others, however, refer these words to a separate and previous work on Fate. The part of the dialogue now extant, contains a refutation of the doctrine of Chrysippus the Stoic, which was that of fatality. “The spot,” says Eustace, “the subject, the speakers, both fated to perish in so short a time, during the contest which they both foresaw, and endeavoured in vain to avert, were circumstances which give a peculiar interest to this dialogue, and increase our regret that it has not reached us in a less mutilated state[452].”
I have now enumerated what may be strictly regarded as the philosophical and theological writings of Cicero. Some of the advantages to be derived from these productions, have already been pointed out during our progress. But on a consideration of the whole, it is manifest that the chief profit accruing from them, is the satisfactory evidence which they afford of the little reason we have to regret the loss of the writings of Zeno, Cleanthes, Chrysippus, and other Greek philosophers. The intrinsic value of these works of Cicero, consists chiefly in what may be called the Roman portion of them—in the anecdotes of distinguished Romans, and of the customs and opinions of that sovereign people.
We now proceed to the moral writings of Cicero, of which the most important is the work De Officiis. The ancient Romans had but an imperfect notion of moral obligations; their virtues were more stern than amiable, and their ardent exclusive patriotism restricted the wide claims of philanthropy, on the one hand, and of domestic duties, on the other. Panætius, a Greek philosopher, who resided at Rome, in the time of Scipio, wrote a book entitled Περι Καθηκοντος. He divided his subject according to the threefold considerations which he conceived should operate in determining our resolutions with regard to the performance of moral duties; 1. Whether the thing itself be virtuous or shameful; 2. Whether it conduce to [pg 258]utility and the enjoyment of life; 3. What choice is to be made when an apparent utility seems to clash with virtue. Cicero followed nearly the same arrangement. In the first book he treats of what is virtuous in itself, and shows in what manner our duties are founded in morality and virtue—in the right perception of truth, justice, fortitude, and decorum; which four qualities are referred to as the constituent parts of virtue, and the sources from which all our duties are drawn. In the second book, the author enlarges on those duties which relate to utility, the improvement of life, and the means employed for the attainment of wealth and power. This division of the work principally regards political advancement, and the honourable means of gaining popularity, as generosity, courtesy, and eloquence. Thus far Cicero had, in all probability, closely followed the steps of Panætius. Garve, in his commentary on this work[453], remarks, that it is quite clear, when he comes to the more subtle and philosophic parts of his subject, that Cicero translates from the Greek, and that he has not always found words in his own language to express the nicer distinctions of the Greek schools. The work of Panætius, however, was left imperfect, and did not treat of the third part of the subject, the choice and distinction to be made when there was a jarring or inconsistency between virtue and utility. On this topic, accordingly, Cicero was left to his own resources. The discussion, of course, relates only to the subordinate duties, as the true and undoubted honestum never can be put in competition with private advantage, or be violated for its sake. As to the minor duties, the great maxim inculcated is that nothing should be accounted useful or profitable but what is strictly virtuous, and that, in fact, there ought to be no separation of the principles of virtue and utility. Cicero enters into some discussion, however, and affords some rules to enable us to form a just estimate of both in cases of doubt, where seeming utility comes into competition with virtue. Accordingly, he proposes and decides a good many questions in casuistry, in order to fix in what situations one may seek private gain with honour. He takes his examples from Roman history, and particularly considers the case of Regulus in the obligation of his oath, and the advice which he gave to the Roman Senate. The author disclaims having been indebted to any preceding writers on this subject; but it appears, from what he afterwards states, that the sixth book of the work of Hecato, a scholar of Panætius, was full of ques[pg 259]tions of this kind: As, for example—If something must be thrown into the sea to lighten a vessel in a storm, whether one should sacrifice a valuable horse, or a worthless slave? Whether, if, during a shipwreck, a fool has got hold of a plank, a wise man ought to take it from him, if he be able? If one, unknowingly, receives bad money for his goods, may he pay it away to a third hand, after he is aware that it is bad? Diogenes, it seems, one of the three philosophic ambassadors who came to Rome from Athens, in the end of the sixth century, maintained the affirmative of this last proposition.