47V 



CICERO. 



On**, retire into the country, where he returned his literary 

 ''" " pursuits. During thi period he wrote hit Treatise on 

 thr Nature of the Gods ; hit Ducoune on Divination ; 

 .'ue on Old Are ; and hit Treatise on Friend- 

 He w* aUo employed on a hutory <>f hi* own 

 or rather uf hi* own conduct, which it docs not 

 appear that he eer intended for publication. 

 The arrival of young Octamn in Italy, however, opened 

 to him a proipect of serving the state, and recovering his 

 The crafty youth was able to per- 



.iged orator that his intention was to establish 

 the republican constitution, and become the faithful ser- 

 vant of the senate. Cicero, who never loved nor trusted 

 Anthony, at toon as he thought himself sufficiently pro- 

 tected, by the quarrel between him and Octavian, pro- 

 moted the most hostile measures against the former, and 

 the mott honourable decrees in favour of the latter ; and 

 be pronounced those famous Philippics, which, while 

 they proved him fully possessed of all the powers of elo- 

 quence, procured him a most implacable foe. The sub- 

 sequent reconciliation of the two rivals the formation of 

 the second triumvirate, and the triumph of their party in 

 Italy, drove Cicero again to his retreat. The last thing 

 which the triumvirate adjusted was a list of the proscrip- 

 tion of their enemies. Cicero was at his Tusculan Villa 

 with his brother and nephew when he first received the 

 news of the proscription, and of their being included in it. 

 It bad been the design of the triumvirate to keep it a se- 

 cret, if possible, till the moment of execution ; but some 

 of Cicero's friends found means to give him early notice, 

 upon which he set forward presently with his brother 

 aud nephew towards Astura, the nearest villa which he 

 had upon the sea-side, intending to transport themselves 

 directly out of the reach of their enemies. But Quin- 

 tus, being wholly unprepared for so sudden a voyage, re- 

 solved to turn back with his son to Rome, in confidence 

 of lying concealed there till they could provide money 

 and necessaries for their support abroad. Cicero, in the 

 meanwhile, found a vessel ready for him at Astura, in 

 which he embarked ; but the weather being stormy and 

 advene, be only sailed about two leagues along the coast, 

 and landing at Circaeum, spent a night near that place 

 in great anxiety and irresolution, uncertain whether to 

 By to Brutus, Cassius, or to one of the sons of Pompey, 

 ud even meditating suicide. The importunity of his ser- 

 vants at last prevailed with him to sail forward to Caje- 

 ta, where he went again on shore to repose himself in 

 his Formian Villa, about a mile from the coast ; weary 

 of his life, and declaring that he would die in that coun- 

 try which he had so often saved. Here he slept soundly for 

 several hours, till his servants forced him into his litter or 

 portable chair, and carried him towards the ship through 

 the private ways and walks of his woods, having just heard 

 that soldiers were come into the country in quest of him, 

 and not far from the Villa. As soon as they were gone, 

 the soldiers arrived at the house, and perceiving him to 

 be fled, pursued immediately towards the sea, and over- 

 took him in the wood. Their leader was one Popilius 

 Lznai, a tribune of the army, whom Cicero had former- 

 ly defended and saved in a capital cause. As soon aa 

 toe soldiers appeared, the servants drew their weapons 

 and prepared to defend their master to the last ; but Ci- 

 e*ro commanded them to set him down and to make no 

 MfUtauce ; then, looking on his pursuers, with a calm 

 francs*, ttretcbed forth his head out of the litter, and 

 badr them H'jthur work. They cut off his head and both 

 hands ; and Popiliui, charged with the horrid burthen of 

 thit licaii which bad presented his own, set out with it 

 (o Komr, as the mow agreeable present which he could 



bear to Anthony. Anthony caused the head to be fix. .... 

 ed upon the rostra between the two hands, a spectacle * T""""' 

 which drew tears from all virtuous citizen*. The death 

 of Cicero was indeed regarded as the death-blow of the 

 republic. Anthony regarded it as such, and declared 

 the proscription at an end. He was killed at the age 

 of sixty- three year*, eleven months, and three days. 



Cicero's literary character has come down to posterity 

 in the double light of an orator and a philosopher. Aa 

 an orator, he his no rival in antiquity but Demosthenes. 

 In comparing them, Quinctilian has given him thr pre- 

 ference ; while Hume, Fenelon, and, generally speaking, 

 the majority of moderns, seem to regard the Greek mas- 

 ter of eloquence to have come nearest to the idea of per- 

 fection. In comparing geniuses of so high a description, 

 the preference is rather an affair of taste than demonstra- 

 tion ; and perhaps it is of more importance to appreci- 

 ate the distinctive characters and particular merits of 

 each, than to attempt that decision of pre-eminence 

 which will always be a problem. To the clear, close, 

 and rapid simplicity of the Greek orator, we may con- 

 trast the copious, inexhaustible variety, the deliciousneK 

 and magnificence of Cicero's eloquence. The logic of 

 Demosthenes is irresistible, the fire of his enthusiasm ie 

 the light of conviction, his progress to the point of at- 

 tack is more vehement and direct. Cicero's manner has 

 more preparation ; he studies every possible resource. 

 The tactics of the Greek orator have been compared to 

 an assault upon a city by storm, and Cicero to a besieger 

 making hisapproaches in due form, constructing his paral- 

 lels, cutting off the issues of his enemy, and surrounding 

 him at all points. Much has been written to prove that these 

 characteristics of their respective eloquence, arose neces- 

 sarily out of the circumstances of the times in which they 

 lived, and the people whom they addressed. That the 

 lively and shrewd Athenians, would not have listened to 

 the luxuriant ornaments of Cicero's style ; and that the 

 Romans were too proud to have suffered the bold and 

 blunt appeals of Demosthenes, too grave to have required 

 the electrifying shocks by which the Greek orator found 

 it necessary to fix their volatile attention. Those specu- 

 lative theories, however, arc by no means satisfactory. 

 The Roman senate were, at least, as shrewd judges of 

 style, as likely to be fond of unadorned and nervous sim- 

 plicity, as the mob of Athens ; and if the Roman charac- 

 ter, in general, was more phlegmatic, it was more likely, 

 than the Greeks, to have required the electric vehemence 

 of Demosthenes. The difference of the orators lay in 

 their genius, perhaps, more than their circumstances. 

 Whatever Cicero might have been at Athens, it is dif- 

 ficult to conceive, that Demosthenes in the forum, or be- 

 fore the conscript fathers, would have been equally effec- 

 tive as when he fulmined over Greece. It seems indeed 

 to be generally conceded, that, for pleading to carry 

 conviction, Demosthenes is supreme. Could we suppose 

 them both alive at this moment, and both equally ardent 

 and instructed in some mighty public cause which re- 

 quired to be supported by eloquence, could we suppose 

 all the enlightened spirits who have ever perused and felt 

 the force of their works, to be named as judges in select- 

 ing the one or other to plead that cause, most probably 

 the greater number of suffrages would be that the office 

 of pleader should be assigned to the Greek. This, if 

 admitted, might appear at once to decide the point of 

 superiority on the side of Demosthenes. But Demost- 

 henes and Cicero, it should be remembered, are now 

 submitted to posterity, not merely as pleaders, but as 

 tine writers ; and another question arises, Jrom which of 

 the two will the mind of their readers derive the great- 



