We are, I think, somewhat proud of the courage shown by public men of our country who have suffered either justly or unjustly under the laws. Our annals are bloody19, and many such have had to meet their death. They have done so generally with becoming manliness. Even though they may have been rebels against the powers of the day, their memories have been made green because they have fallen like brave men. Sir Thomas More, who was no rebel, died well, and crowned a good life by his manner of leaving it. Thomas Cromwell submitted to the axe20 without a complaint. Lady Jane Grey, when on the scaffold, yielded nothing in manliness to the others. Cranmer and the martyr21 bishops22 perished nobly. The Earl of Essex, and Raleigh, and Strafford, and Strafford's master showed no fear when the fatal moment came. In reading the fate of each, we sympathize with the victim because of a certain dignity at the moment of death. But there is, I think, no crisis of life in which it is so easy for a man to carry himself honorably as that in which he has to leave it. "Venit summa dies et ineluctabile tempus." No doubting now can be of avail. No moment is left for the display of conduct beyond this, which requires only decorum and a free use of the pulses to become in some degree glorious. The wretch23 from the lowest dregs of the people can achieve it with a halter round his neck. Cicero had that moment also to face; and when it came he was as brave as the best Englishman of them all. 299But of those I have named no one had an Atticus to whom it had been the privilege of his life to open his very soul, in language so charming as to make it worth posterity's while to read it, to study it, to sift24 it, and to criticise25 it. Wolsey made many plaints in his misery26, but they have reached us in such forms of grace that they do not disparage27 him; but then he too had no Atticus. Shaftesbury and Bolingbroke were dismissed ministers and doomed29 to live in exile, the latter for many years, and felt, no doubt, strongly their removal from the glare of public life to obscurity. We hear no complaint from them which can justify30 some future critic in saying that their wails31 were unworthy of a woman; but neither of them was capable of telling an Atticus the thoughts of his mind as they rose. What other public man ever had an Atticus to whom, in the sorrows which the ingratitude32 of friends had brought upon him, he could disclose every throb34 of his heart?
I think that we are often at a loss, in our efforts at appreciation35 of character, and in the expressions of our opinion respecting it, to realize the meaning of courage and manliness. That sententious Swedish Queen, one of whose foolish maxims36 I have quoted, has said that Cicero, though a coward, was capable of great actions, because she did not know what a coward was. To doubt—to tremble with anxiety—to vacillate hither and thither38 between this course and the other as to which may be the better—to complain within one's own breast that this or that thing has been an injustice—to hesitate within one's self, not quite knowing which way honor may require us to go—to be indignant even at fancied wrongs—to rise in wrath39 against another, and then, before the hour has passed, to turn that wrath against one's self—that is not to be a coward. To know what duty requires, and then to be deterred40 by fear of results—that is to be a coward; but the man of many scruples41 may be the greatest hero of them all. Let the law of things be declared clearly 300so that the doubting mind shall no longer doubt, so that scruples may be laid at rest, so that the sense of justice may be satisfied—and he of whom I speak shall be ready to meet the world in arms against him. There are men, very useful in their way, who shall never doubt at all, but shall be ready, as the bull is ready, to encounter any obstacles that there may be before them. I will not say but that for the coarse purposes of the world they may not be the most efficacious, but I will not admit that they are therefore the bravest. The bull, who has no imagination to tell him what the obstacle may do to him, is not brave. He is brave who, fully42 understanding the potentiality of the obstacle, shall, for a sufficient purpose, move against it.
This Cicero always did. He braved the murderous anger of Sulla when, as a young man, he thought it well to stop the greed of Sulla's minions44. He trusted himself amid the dangers prepared for him, when it was necessary that with extraordinary speed he should get together the evidence needed for the prosecution45 of Verres. He was firm against all that Catiline attempted for his destruction, and had courage enough for the responsibility when he thought it expedient46 to doom28 the friends of Catiline to death. In defending Milo, whether the cause were good or bad, he did not blench47.267 He joined the Republican army in Macedonia though he distrusted Pompey and his companions. When he thought that there was a hope for the Republic, he sprung at Antony with all the courage of a tigress protecting her young; and when all had failed and was rotten around him, when the Republic had so fallen that he knew it to be gone—then he was able to give his neck to the swordsman with all the apparent indifference48 of life which was displayed by those countrymen of our own whom I have named.
301But why did he write so piteously when he was driven into exile? Why, at any rate, did he turn upon his chosen friend and scold him, as though that friend had not done enough for friendship? Why did he talk of suicide as though by that he might find the easiest way of escape?
I hold it to be natural that a man should wail6 to himself under a sense, not simply of misfortune, but of misfortune coming to him from the injustice of others, and specially49 from the ingratitude of friends. Afflictions which come to us from natural causes, such as sickness and physical pain, or from some chance such as the loss of our money by the breaking of a bank, an heroic man will bear without even inward complainings. But a sense of wrong done to him by friends will stir him, not by the misery inflicted, but because of the injustice; and that which he says to himself he will say to his wife, if his wife be to him a second self, or to his friend, if he have one so dear to him. The testimony50 by which the writers I have named have been led to treat Cicero so severely51 has been found in the letters which he wrote during his exile; and of these letters all but one were addressed either to Atticus or to his wife or to his brother.268 Twenty-seven of them were to Atticus. Before he accepted a voluntary exile, as the best solution of the difficulty in which he was placed—for it was voluntary at first, as will be seen—he applied52 to the Consul53 Piso for aid, and for the same purpose visited Pompey. So far he was a suppliant54, but this he did in conformity55 with Roman usage. In asking favor of a man in power there was held to be no disgrace, even though the favor asked were one improper56 to be granted, which was not the case with Cicero. And he went about the Forum57 in mourning—"sordidatus"—as was the custom with men on their trial. We cannot doubt that in each of 302these cases he acted with the advice of his friends. His conduct and his words after his return from exile betray exultation58 rather than despondency.
It is from the letters which he wrote to Atticus that he has been judged—from words boiling with indignation that such a one as he should have been surrendered by the Rome that he had saved, by those friends to whom he had been so true to be trampled59 on by such a one as Clodius! When a man has written words intended for the public ear, it is fair that he should bear the brunt of them, be it what it may. He has intended them for public effect, and if they are used against him he should not complain. But here the secret murmurings of the man's soul were sent forth60 to his choicest friend, with no idea that from them would he be judged by the "historians to come in 600 years,"269 of whose good word he thought so much. "Quid vero histori? de nobis ad annos DC. pr?dicarint!" he says, to Atticus. How is it that from them, after 2000 years, the Merivales, Mommsens, and Froudes condemn2 their great brother in letters whose lightest utterances62 have been found worthy of so long a life! Is there not an injustice in falling upon a man's private words, words when written intended only for privacy, and making them the basis of an accusation63 in which an illustrious man shall be arraigned64 forever as a coward? It is said that he was unjust even to Atticus, accusing even Atticus of lukewarmness. What if he did so—for an hour? Is that an affair of ours? Did Atticus quarrel with him? Let any reader of these words who has lived long enough to have an old friend, ask himself whether there has never been a moment of anger in his heart—of anger of which he has soon learned to recognize the injustice? He may not have written his anger, but then, perhaps, he has not had the pen of a Cicero. Let those who rebuke65 the unmanliness of Cicero's wailings remember what were his sufferings. The 303story has yet to be told, but I may in rough words describe their nature. Everything was to be taken from him: all that he had—his houses, his books, his pleasant gardens, his busts66 and pictures, his wide retinue67 of slaves, and possessions lordly as are those of our dukes and earls. He was driven out from Italy and so driven that no place of delight could be open to him. Sicily, where he had friends, Athens, where he might have lived, were closed against him. He had to look where to live, and did live for a while on money borrowed from his friends. All the cherished occupations of his life were over for him—the law courts, the Forum, the Senate, and the crowded meetings of Roman citizens hanging on his words. The circumstances of his exile separated him from his wife and children, so that he was alone. All this was assured to him for life, as far as Roman law could assure it. Let us think of the condition of some great and serviceable Englishman in similar circumstances. Let us suppose that Sir Robert Peel had been impeached68, and forced by some iniquitous69 sentence to live beyond the pale of civilization: that the houses at Whitehall Gardens and at Drayton had been confiscated70, dismantled71, and levelled to the ground, and his rents and revenues made over to his enemies; that everything should have been done to destroy him by the country he had served, except the act of taking away that life which would thus have been made a burden to him. Would not his case have been more piteous, a source of more righteous indignation, than that even of the Mores72 or Raleighs? He suffered under invectives in the House of Commons, and we sympathized with him; but if some Clodius of the day could have done this to him, should we have thought the worse of him had he opened his wounds to his wife, or to his brother, or to his friend of friends?
Had Cicero put an end to his life in his exile, as he thought of doing, he would have been a second Cato to admiring posterity, and some Lucan with rolling verses would have told us narratives73 of his valor75. The judges of to-day look back to his 304half-formed purposes in this direction as being an added evidence of the weakness of the man; but had he let himself blood and have perished in his bath, he would have been thought to have escaped from life as honorably as did Junius Brutus It is because he dared to live on that we are taught to think so little of him,—because he had antedated76 Christianity so far as to feel when the moment came that such an escape was, in truth, unmanly. He doubted, and when the deed had not been done he expressed regret that he had allowed himself to live. But he did not do it,—as Cato would have done, or Brutus.
It may be as well here to combat, in as few words as possible, the assertions which have been made that Cicero, having begun life as a democrat78, discarded his colors as soon as he had received from the people those honors for which he had sought popularity. They who have said so have taken their idea from the fact that, in much of his early forensic79 work, he spoke80 against the aristocratic party. He attacked Sulla, through his favorite Chrysogonus, in his defence of Roscius Amerinus. He afterward81 defended a woman of Arretium in the spirit of antagonism82 to Sulla. His accusation of Verres was made on the same side in politics, and was carried on in opposition83 to Hortensius and the oligarchs. He defended the Tribune Caius Cornelius. Then, when he became Consul, he devoted84 himself to the destruction of Catiline, who was joined with many, perhaps with C?sar's sympathy, in the conspiracy85 for the overthrow86 of the Republic. C?sar soon became the leader of the democracy,—became rather what Mommsen describes as "Democracy" itself; and as Cicero had defended the Senate from Catiline, and had refused to attach himself to C?sar, he is supposed to have turned from the political ideas of his youth, and to have become a Conservative when Conservative ideas suited his ambition.
I will not accept the excuse put forward on his behalf, that the early speeches were made on the side of democracy because the exigencies87 of the occasion required him to so devote 305his energies as an advocate. No doubt he was an advocate, as are our barristers of to-day, and, as an advocate, supported this side or that; but we shall be wrong if we suppose that the Roman "patronus" supplied his services under such inducements. With us a man goes into the profession of the law with the intention of making money, and takes the cases right and left, unless there be special circumstances which may debar him from doing so with honor. It is a point of etiquette88 with him to give his assistance, in turn, as he may be called on; so much so, that leading men are not unfrequently employed on one side simply that they may not be employed on the other side. It should not be urged on the part of Cicero that, so actuated, he defended Amerinus, a case in which he took part against the aristocrats89, or defended Publius Sulla, in doing which he appeared on the side of the aristocracy. Such a defence of his conduct would be misleading, and might be confuted. It would be confuted by those who suppose him to have been "notoriously a political trimmer," as Mommsen has270 called him; or a "deserter," as he was described by Dio Cassius and by the Pseudo-Sallust,271 by showing that in fact he took up causes under the influence of strong personal motives90 such as rarely govern an English barrister. These motives were in many cases partly political; but they operated in such a manner as to give no guide to his political views. In defending Sulla's nephew he was moved, as far as we know, solely92 by private motives. In defending Amerinus he may be said to have attacked Sulla. His object was to stamp out the still burning embers of Sulla's cruelty; but not the less was he wedded93 to Sulla's general views as to the restoration of the 306authority of the Senate. In his early speeches, especially in that spoken against Verres, he denounces the corruption95 of the senatorial judges; but at that very period of his life he again and again expresses his own belief in the glory and majesty97 of the Senate. In accusing Verres he accused the general corruption of Rome's provincial98 governors; and as they were always past-Consuls99 or past-Pr?tors, and had been the elite100 of the aristocracy, he may be said so far to have taken the part of a democrat; but he had done so only so far as he had found himself bound by a sense of duty to put a stop to corruption. The venality101 of the judges and the rapacity102 of governors had been fit objects for his eloquence103; but I deny that he can be fairly charged with having tampered104 with democracy because he had thus used his eloquence on behalf of the people.
He was no doubt stirred by other political motives less praiseworthy, though submitted to in accordance with the practice and the known usages of Rome. He had undertaken to speak for Catiline when Catiline was accused of corruption on his return from Africa, knowing that Catiline had been guilty. He did not do so; but the intention, for our present purpose, is the same as the doing. To have defended Catiline would have assisted him in his operations as a candidate for the Consulship105. Catiline was a bad subject for a defence—as was Fonteius, whom he certainly did defend—and Catiline was a democrat. But Cicero, had he defended Catiline, would not have done so as holding out his hand to democracy. Cicero, when, in the Pro14 Lege Manilia, he for the first time addressed the people, certainly spoke in opposition to the wishes of the Senate in proposing that Pompey should have the command of the Mithridatic war; but his views were not democratic. It has been said that this was done because Pompey could help him to the Consulship. To me it seems that he had already declared to himself that among leading men in Rome Pompey was the one to whom the Republic would look with the most security as a bulwark106, and that on that account he had resolved to bind107 307himself to Pompey in some political marriage. Be that as it may, there was no tampering108 with democracy in the speech Pro Lege Manilia. Of all the extant orations109 made by him before his Consulship, the attentive110 reader will sympathize the least with that of Fonteius. After his scathing111 onslaught on Verres for provincial plunder112, he defended the plunderer113 of the Gauls, and held up the suffering allies of Rome to ridicule114 as being hardly entitled to good government. This he did simply as an advocate, without political motive91 of any kind—in the days in which he was supposed to be currying115 favor with democracy—governed by private friendship, looking forward, probably, to some friendly office in return, as was customary. It was thus that afterward he defended Antony, his colleague in the Consulship, whom he knew to have been a corrupt96 governor. Autronius had been a party to Catiline's conspiracy, and Autronius had been Cicero's school-fellow; but Cicero, for some reserved reason with which we are not acquainted, refused to plead for Autronius. There is, I maintain, no ground for suggesting that Cicero had shown by his speeches before his Consulship any party adherence116. The declaration which he made after his Consulship, in the speech for Sulla, that up to the time of Catiline's first conspiracy forensic duties had not allowed him to devote himself to party politics, is entitled to belief: we know, indeed, that it was so. As Qu?stor, as ?dile, and as Pr?tor, he did not interfere117 in the political questions of Rome, except in demanding justice from judges and purity from governors. When he became Consul then he became a politician, and after that there was certainly no vacillation118 in his views. Critics say that he surrendered himself to C?sar when C?sar became master. We shall come to that hereafter; but the accusation with which I am dealing119 now is that which charges him with having abandoned the democratic memories of his youth as soon as he had enveloped120 himself with the consular121 purple. There had been no democratic promises, and there was no change when he became Consul.
308In truth, Cicero's political convictions were the same from the beginning to the end of his career, with a consistency122 which is by no means usual in politicians; for though, before his Consulship, he had not taken up politics as a business he had entertained certain political views, as do all men who live in public. From the first to the last we may best describe him by the word we have now in use, as a conservative. The government of Rome had been an oligarchy123 for many years, though much had been done by the citizens to reduce the thraldom124 which an oligarchy is sure to exact. To that oligarchy Cicero was bound by all the convictions, by all the practices, and by all the prejudices of his life. When he speaks of a Republic he speaks of a people and of an Empire governed by an oligarchy; he speaks of a power to be kept in the hands of a few—for the benefit of the few, and of the many if it might be—but at any rate in the hands of a few. That those few should be so select as to admit of no new-comers among them, would probably have been a portion of his political creed125, had he not been himself a "novus homo." As he was the first of his family to storm the barrier of the fortress126, he had been forced to depend much on popular opinion; but not on that account had there been any dealings between him and democracy. That the Empire should be governed according to the old oligarchical127 forms which had been in use for more than four centuries, and had created the power of Rome—that was his political creed. That Consuls, Censors128, and Senators might go on to the end of time with no diminution129 of their dignity, but with great increase of justice and honor and truth among them—that was his political aspiration130. They had made Rome what it was, and he knew and could imagine nothing better; and, odious131 as an oligarchy is seen to be under the strong light of experience to which prolonged ages has subjected it, the aspiration on his part was noble. He has been wrongly accused of deserting "that democracy with which he had flirted132 in his youth." There had been no democracy in his youth, 309though there had existed such a condition in the time of the Gracchi. There was none in his youth and none in his age. That which has been wrongly called democracy was conspiracy—not a conspiracy of democrats133 such as led to our Commonwealth134, or to the American Independence, or to the French Revolution; but conspiracy of a few nobles for the better assurance of the plunder, and the power, and the high places of the Empire. Of any tendency toward democracy no man has been less justly accused than Cicero, unless it might be C?sar. To C?sar we must accord the merit of having seen that a continuation of the old oligarchical forms was impracticable This Cicero did not see. He thought that the wounds inflicted by the degeneracy and profligacy135 of individuals were curable. It is attributed to C?sar that he conceived the grand idea of establishing general liberty under the sole dominion136 of one great, and therefore beneficent, ruler. I think he saw no farther than that he, by strategy, management, and courage might become this ruler, whether beneficent or the reverse. But here I think that it becomes the writer, whether he be historian, biographer, or fill whatever meaner position he may in literature, to declare that no beneficence can accompany such a form of government. For all temporary sleekness137, for metropolitan138 comfort and fatness, the bill has to be paid sooner or later in ignorance, poverty, and oppression. With an oligarchy there will be other, perhaps graver, faults; but with an oligarchy there will be salt, though it be among a few. There will be a Cicero now and again—or at least a Cato. From the dead, stagnant139 level of personal despotism there can be no rising to life till corruption paralyzes the hands of power, and the fabric140 falls by its own decay Of this no proof can be found in the world's history so manifest as that taught by the Roman Empire.
I think it is made clear by a study of Cicero's life and works, up to the period of his exile, that an adhesion to the old forms of the Roman Government was his guiding principle. 310I am sure that they who follow me to the close of his career will acknowledge that after his exile he lived for this principle, and that he died for it. "Respublica," the Republic, was the one word which to his ear contained a political charm. It was the shibboleth141 by which men were to be conjured142 into well-being143. The word constitution is nearly as potent43 with us. But it is essential that the reader of Roman history and Roman biography should understand that the appellation144 had in it, for all Roman ears, a thoroughly145 conservative meaning. Among those who at Cicero's period dealt with politics in Rome—all of whom, no doubt, spoke of the Republic as the vessel146 of State which was to be defended by all persons—there were four classes. These were they who simply desired the plunder of the State—the Catilines, the Sullas of the day, and the Antonys; men such as Verres had been, and Fonteius, and Autronius. The other three can be best typified each by one man. There was C?sar, who knew that the Republic was gone, past all hope. There was Cato—"the dogmatical fool Cato" as Mommsen calls him, perhaps with some lack of the historian's dignity—who was true to the Republic, who could not bend an inch, and was thus as detrimental147 to any hope of reconstruction148 as a Catiline or a C?sar. Cicero was of the fourth class, believing in the Republic, intent on saving it, imbued149 amid all his doubts with a conviction that if the "optimates" or "boni"—the leading men of the party—would be true to themselves, Consuls, Censors, and Senate would still suffice to rule the world; but prepared to give and take with those who were opposed to him. It was his idea that political integrity should keep its own hands clean, but should wink150 at much dirt in the world at large. Nothing, he saw, could be done by Catonic rigor151. We can see now that Ciceronic compromises were, and must have been, equally ineffective. The patient was past cure. But in seeking the truth as to Cicero, we have to perceive that amid all his doubts, frequently in despondency, sometimes overwhelmed by the misery and hopelessness 311of his condition, he did hold fast by this idea to the end. The frequent expressions made to Atticus in opposition to this belief are to be taken as the murmurs152 of his mind at the moment; as you shall hear a man swear that all is gone, and see him tear his hair, and shall yet know that there is a deep fund of hope within his bosom153. It was the ingratitude of his political friends, his "boni" and his "optimates," of Pompey as their head, which tried him the sorest; but he was always forgiving them, forgiving Pompey as the head of them, because he knew that, were he to be severed154 from them, then the political world must be closed to him altogether.
Of Cicero's strength or Cicero's weakness Pompey seems to have known nothing. He was no judge of men. C?sar measured him with a great approach to accuracy. C?sar knew him to be the best Roman of his day; one who, if he could be brought over to serve in C?sarean ranks, would be invaluable—because of his honesty, his eloquence, and his capability155; but he knew him as one who must be silenced if he were not brought to serve on the C?sarean side. Such a man, however, might be silenced for a while—taught to perceive that his efforts were vain—and then brought into favor by further overtures156, and made of use. Personally he was pleasant to C?sar, who had taste enough to know that he was a man worthy of all personal dignity. But C?sar was not, I think, quite accurate in his estimation, having allowed himself to believe at the last that Cicero's energy on behalf of the Republic had been quelled157.
B. C. 58, ?tat 49
Now we will go back to the story of Cicero's exile. Gradually during the preceding year he had learned that Clodius was preparing to attack him, and to doubt whether he could expect protection from the Triumvirate. That he could be made safe by the justice either of the people or by that of any court before which he could be tried, seems never to have occurred to him. He knew the people and he knew the courts too well. Pompey no doubt might have warded158 312off the coming evil; such at least was Cicero's idea. To him Pompey was the greatest political power as yet extant in Rome; but he was beginning to believe that Pompey would be untrue to him. When he had sent to Pompey a long account of the grand doings of his Consulship, Pompey had replied with faintest praises. He had rejected the overtures of the Triumvirate. In the last letter to Atticus in the year before, written in August,272 he had declared that the Republic was ruined; that they who had brought things to this pass—meaning the Triumvirate—were hostile; but, for himself, he was confident in saying that he was quite safe in the good will of men around him. There is a letter to his brother written in November, the next letter in the collection, in which he says that Pompey and C?sar promise him everything. With the exception of two letters of introduction, we have nothing from him till he writes to Atticus from the first scene of his exile.
When the new year commenced, Clodius was Tribune of the people, and immediately was active. Piso and Gabinius were Consuls. Piso was kinsman159 to Piso Frugi, who had married Cicero's daughter,273and was expected to befriend Cicero at this crisis. But Clodius procured160 the allotment of Syria and Macedonia to the two Consuls by the popular vote. They were provinces rich in plunder; and it was matter of importance for a Consul to know that the prey161 which should come to him as Proconsul should be worthy of his grasp. They were, therefore, ready to support the Tribune in what he proposed to do. It was necessary to Cicero's enemies that there should be some law by which Cicero might be condemned162. It would not be within the power of Clodius, even with the Triumvirate at his back, to drive the man out of Rome and out of Italy, without an 313alleged cause. Though justice had been tabooed, law was still in vogue164. Now there was a matter as to which Cicero was open to attack. As Consul he had caused certain Roman citizens to be executed as conspirators165, in the teeth of a law which enacted167 that no Roman citizen should be condemned to die except by a direct vote of the people. It had certainly become a maxim37 of the constitution of the Republic that a citizen should not be made to suffer death except by the voice of the people. The Valerian, the Porcian, and the Sempronian laws had all been passed to that effect. Now there had been no popular vote as to the execution of Lentulus and the other conspirators, who had been taken red-handed in Rome in the affair of Catiline. Their death had been decreed by the Senate, and the decree of the Senate had been carried out by Cicero; but no decree of the Senate had the power of a law. In spite of that decree the old law was in force; and no appeal to the people had been allowed to Lentulus. But there had grown up in the constitution a practice which had been supposed to override169 the Valerian and Porcian laws. In certain emergencies the Senate would call upon the Consuls to see that the Republic should suffer no injury, and it had been held that at such moments the Consuls were invested with an authority above all law. Cicero had been thus strengthened when, as Consul, he had struggled with Catiline; but it was an open question, as Cicero himself very well knew. In the year of his Consulship—the very year in which Lentulus and the others had been strangled—he had defended Rabirius, who was then accused of having killed a citizen thirty years before. Rabirius was charged with having slaughtered170 the Tribune Saturninus by consular authority, the Consuls of the day having been ordered to defend the Republic, as Cicero had been ordered. Rabirius probably had not killed Saturninus, nor did any one now care whether he had done so or not. The trial had been brought about notoriously by the agency of C?sar, who caused himself to be selected by the Pr?tor as one of the 314two judges for the occasion;274 and C?sar's object as notoriously was to lessen171 the authority of the Senate, and to support the democratic interest. Both Cicero and Hortensius defended Rabirius, but he was condemned by C?sar, and, as we are told, himself only escaped by using that appeal to the people in support of which he had himself been brought to trial. In this, as in so many of the forensic actions of the day, there had been an admixture of violence and law. We must, I think, acknowledge that there was the same leaven172 of illegality in the proceedings173 against Lentulus. It had no doubt been the intention of the constitution that a Consul, in the heat of an emergency, should use his personal authority for the protection of the Commonwealth, but it cannot be alleged163 that there was such an emergency, when the full Senate had had time to debate on the fate of the Catiline criminals. Both from C?sar's words as reported by Sallust, and from Cicero's as given to us by himself, we are aware that an idea of the illegality of the proceeding174 was present in the minds of Senators at the moment. But, though law was loved at Rome, all forensic and legislative175 proceedings were at this time carried on with monstrous176 illegality. Consuls consulted the heavens falsely; Tribunes used their veto violently; judges accepted bribes177 openly; the votes of the people were manipulated fraudulently. In the trial and escape of Rabirius, the laws were despised by those who pretended to vindicate178 them. Clodius had now become a Tribune by the means of certain legal provision, but yet in opposition to all law. In the conduct of the affair against Catiline Cicero seems to have been actuated by pure patriotism179, and to have been supported by a fine courage; but he knew that in destroying Lentulus and Cethegus he subjected himself to certain dangers. He had willingly faced these dangers for the sake of the object in view. As long as he 315might remain the darling of the people, as he was at that moment, he would no doubt be safe; but it was not given to any one to be for long the darling of the Roman people. Cicero bad become so by using an eloquence to which the Romans were peculiarly susceptible180; but though they loved sweet tongues, long purses went farther with them. Since Cicero's Consulship he had done nothing to offend the people, except to remain occasionally out of their sight; but he had lost the brilliancy of his popularity, and he was aware that it was so.
In discussing popularity in Rome we have to remember of what elements it was formed. We hear that this or that man was potent at some special time by the assistance coming to him from the popular voice. There was in Rome a vast population of idle men, who had been trained by their city life to look to the fact of their citizenship181 for their support, and who did, in truth, live on their citizenship. Of "panem et circenses" we have all heard, and know that eleemosynary bread and the public amusements of the day supplied the material and ?sthetic wants of many Romans. But men so fed and so amused were sure to need further occupations. They became attached to certain friends, to certain patrons, and to certain parties, and soon learned that a return was expected for the food and for the excitement supplied to them. This they gave by holding themselves in readiness for whatever violence was needed from them, till it became notorious in Rome that a great party man might best attain183 his political object by fighting for it in the streets. This was the meaning of that saying of Crassus, that a man could not be considered rich till he could keep an army in his own pay. A popular vote obtained and declared by a faction184 fight in the forum was still a popular vote, and if supported by sufficient violence would be valid185. There had been street fighting of the kind when Cicero had defended Caius Cornelius, in the year after his Pr?torship; there had been fighting of the kind when Rabirius had been condemned in his Consulship. We shall learn 316by-and-by to what extent such fighting prevailed when Clodius was killed by Milo's body-guard. At the period of which we are now writing, when Clodius was intent on pursuing Cicero to his ruin, it was a question with Cicero himself whether he would not trust to a certain faction in Rome to fight for him, and so to protect him. Though his popularity was on the wane—that general popularity which, we may presume, had been produced by the tone of his voice and the grace of his language—there still remained to him that other popularity which consisted, in truth, of the trained bands employed by the "boni" and the "optimates," and which might be used, if need were, in opposition to trained bands on the other side.
The bill first proposed by Clodius to the people with the object of destroying Cicero did not mention Cicero, nor, in truth, refer to him. It purported187 to enact168 that he who had caused to be executed any Roman citizen not duly condemned to death, should himself be deprived of the privilege of water or fire.275 This condemned no suggested malefactor188 to death; but, in accordance with Roman law, made it impossible that any Roman so condemned should live within whatever bounds might be named for this withholding189 of fire and water. The penalty intended was banishment190; but by this enactment191 no individual would be banished192. Cicero, however, at once took the suggestion to himself, and put himself into mourning, as a man accused and about to be brought to his trial. He went about the streets accompanied by crowds armed for his protection; and Clodius also caused himself to be so accompanied. There came thus to be a question which might prevail should there be a general fight. The Senate was, as a body, on Cicero's side, but was quite unable to cope with the Triumvirate. C?sar no doubt had resolved that Cicero should be made to go, and C?sar was lord of the Triumvirate. On behalf of Cicero 317there was a large body of the conservative or oligarchical party who were still true to him; and they, too, all went into the usual public mourning, evincing their desire that the accused man should be rescued from his accusers.
The bitterness of Clodius would be surprising did we not know how bitter had been Cicero's tongue. When the affair of the Bona Dea had taken place there was no special enmity between this debauched young man and the great Consul. Cicero, though his own life had ever been clean and well ordered, rather affected193 the company of fast young men when he found them to be witty194 as well as clever. This very Clodius had been in his good books till the affair of the Bona Dea. But now the Tribune's hatred195 was internecine196. I have hitherto said nothing, and need say but little, of a certain disreputable lady named Clodia. She was the sister of Clodius and the wife of Metellus Celer. She was accused by public voice in Rome of living in incest with her brother, and of poisoning her husband. Cicero calls her afterward, in his defence of C?lius, "amica omnium." She had the nickname of Quadrantaria276 given to her, because she frequented the public baths, at which the charge was a farthing. It must be said also of her, either in praise or in dispraise, that she was the Lesbia who inspired the muse182 of Catullus. It was rumored197 in Rome that she had endeavored to set her cap at Cicero. Cicero in his raillery had not spared the lady. To speak publicly the grossest evil of women was not opposed to any idea of gallantry current among the Romans. Our sense of chivalry198, as well as decency199, is disgusted by the language used by Horace to women who once to him were young and pretty, but have become old and ugly. The venom200 of Cicero's abuse of Clodia annoys us, and we have to remember that the gentle ideas which we have taken in with our mother's milk had not 318grown into use with the Romans. It is necessary that this woman's name should be mentioned, and it may appear here as she was one of the causes of that hatred which burnt between Clodius and Cicero, till Clodius was killed in a street row.
It has been presumed that Cicero was badly advised in presuming publicly that the new law was intended against himself, and in taking upon himself the outward signs of a man under affliction. "The resolution," says Middleton, "of changing his gown was too hasty and inconsiderate, and helped to precipitate201 his ruin." He was sensible of his error when too late, and oft reproaches Atticus that, being a stander-by, and less heated with the game than himself, he would suffer him to make such blunders. And he quotes the words written to Atticus: "Here my judgment202 first failed me, or, indeed, brought me into trouble. We were blind, blind I say, in changing our raiment and in appealing to the populace. * * * I handed myself and all belonging to me over to my enemies, while you were looking on, while you were holding your peace; yes, you, who, if your wit in the matter was no better than mine, were impeded203 by no personal fears."277 But the reader should study the entire letter, and study it in the original, for no translator can give its true purport186. This the reader must do before he can understand Cicero's state of mind when writing it, or his relation to Atticus; or the thoughts which distracted him when, in accordance with the advice of Atticus, he resolved, while yet uncondemned, to retire into banishment. The censure204 to which Atticus is subjected throughout this letter is that which a thoughtful, hesitating, scrupulous205 man is so often disposed to address to himself. After reminding Atticus of the sort of advice which should have been given—the want of which in the first moment of his exile he regrets—and doing this in words of which it is very difficult now to catch the 319exact flavor, he begs to be pardoned for his reproaches. "You will forgive me this," he says. "I blame myself more than I do you; but I look to you as a second self, and I make you a sharer with me of my own folly206." I take this letter out of its course, and speak of it as connected with that terrible period of doubt to which it refers, in which he had to decide whether he would remain in Rome and fight it out, or run before his enemies. But in writing the letter afterward his mind was as much disturbed as when he did fly. I am inclined, therefore, to think that Middleton and others may have been wrong in blaming his flight, which they have done, because in his subsequent vacillating moods he blamed himself. How the battle might have gone had he remained, we have no evidence to show; but we do know that though he fled, he returned soon with renewed glory, and altogether overcame the attempt which had been made to destroy him.
In this time of his distress207 a strong effort was made by the Senate to rescue him. It was proposed to them that they all as a body should go into mourning on his behalf; indeed, the Senate passed a vote to this effect, but were prevented by the two Consuls from carrying it out. As to what he had best do he and his friends were divided. Some recommended that he should remain where he was, and defend himself by street-fighting should it be necessary. In doing this he would acknowledge that law no longer prevailed in Rome—a condition of things to which many had given in their adherence, but with which Cicero would surely have been the last to comply. He himself, in his despair, thought for a time that the old Roman mode of escape would be preferable, and that he might with decorum end his life and his troubles by suicide. Atticus and others dissuaded208 him from this, and recommended him to fly. Among these Cato and Hortensius have both been named. To this advice he at last yielded, and it may be doubted whether any better could have been given. Lawlessness, which had been rampant209 in Rome before, had, under the 320Triumvirate, become almost lawful210. It was C?sar's intention to carry out his will with such compliance211 with the forms of the Republic as might suit him, but in utter disregard to all such forms when they did not suit him. The banishment of Cicero was one of the last steps taken by C?sar before he left Rome for his campaigns in Gaul. He was already in command of the legions, and was just without the city. He had endeavored to buy Cicero, but had failed. Having failed, he had determined212 to be rid of him. Clodius was but his tool, as were Pompey and the two Consuls. Had Cicero endeavored to support himself by violence in Rome, his contest would, in fact have been with C?sar.
Cicero, before he went, applied for protection personally to Piso the Consul, and to Pompey. Gabinius, the other Consul, had already declared his purpose to the Senate, but Piso was bound to him by family ties. He himself relates to us in his oration94, spoken after his return, against this Piso, the manner of the meeting between him and Rome's chief officer. Piso told him—so at least Cicero declared in the Senate, and we have heard of no contradiction—that Gabinius was so driven by debts as to be unable to hold up his head without a rich province; that he himself, Piso, could only hope to get a province by taking part with Gabinius; that any application to the Consuls was useless, and that every one must look after himself.278 Concerning his appeal to Pompey two stories have been given to us, neither of which appears to be true. Plutarch says that when Cicero had travelled out from Rome to Pompey's Alban villa213, Pompey ran out of the back-door to avoid meeting him. Plutarch cared more for a good story than for accuracy, and is not worthy of much credit as to details unless when corroborated214. The other account is based on Cicero's assertion that he did see Pompey on this occasion. Nine or ten years after the meeting he refers to it in a letter to 321Atticus, which leaves no doubt as to the fact. The story founded on that letter declares that Cicero threw himself bodily at his old friend's feet, and that Pompey did not lend a hand to raise him, but told him simply that everything was in C?sar's hands. This narrative74 is, I think, due to a misinterpretation of Cicero's words, though it is given by a close translation of them. He is describing Pompey when C?sar after his Gallic wars had crossed the Rubicon, and the two late Triumvirates—the third having perished miserably215 in the East—were in arms against each other. "Alter ardet furore et scelere" he says.279 C?sar is pressing on unscrupulous in his passion. "Alter is qui nos sibi quondam ad pedes stratos ne sublevabat quidem, qui se nihil contra hujus voluntatem aiebat facere posse." "That other one," he continues—meaning Pompey, and pursuing his picture of the present contrast—"who in days gone by would not even lift me when I lay at his feet, and told me that he could do nothing but as C?sar wished it." This little supposed detail of biography has been given, no doubt, from an accurate reading of the words; but in it the spirit of the writer's mind as he wrote it has surely been missed. The prostration of which he spoke, from which Pompey would not raise him, the memory of which was still so bitter to him, was not a prostration of the body. I hold it to have been impossible that Cicero should have assumed such an attitude before Pompey, or that he would so have written to Atticus had he done so. It would have been neither Roman nor Ciceronian, as displayed by Cicero to Pompey. He had gone to his old ally and told him of his trouble, and had no doubt reminded him of those promises of assistance which Pompey had so often made. Then Pompey had refused to help him, and had assured him, with too much truth, that C?sar's will was everything. Again, we have to remember that in judging of the meaning of words between two such 322correspondents as Cicero and Atticus, we must read between the lines, and interpret the words by creating for ourselves something of the spirit in which they were written and in which they were received. I cannot imagine that, in describing to Atticus what had occurred at that interview nine years after it had taken place, Cicero had intended it to be understood that he had really grovelled216 in the dust.
Toward the end of March he started from Rome, intending to take refuge among his friends in Sicily. On the same day Clodius brought in a bill directed against Cicero by name and caused it to be carried by the people, "Ut Marco Tullio aqua et igni interdictum sit"—that it should be illegal to supply Cicero with fire and water. The law when passed forbade any one to harbor the criminal within four hundred miles of Rome, and declared the doing so to be a capital offence. It is evident, from the action of those who obeyed the law, and of those who did not, that legal results were not feared so much as the ill-will of those who had driven Cicero to his exile. They who refused him succor217 did do so not because to give it him would be illegal, but lest C?sar and Pompey would be offended. It did not last long, and during the short period of his exile he found perhaps more of friendship than of enmity; but he directed his steps in accordance with the bearing of party-spirit. We are told that he was afraid to go to Athens, because at Athens lived that Autronius whom he had refused to defend. Autronius had been convicted of conspiracy and banished, and, having been a Catilinarian conspirator166, had been in truth on C?sar's side. Nor were geographical218 facts sufficiently219 established to tell Cicero what places were and what were not without the forbidden circle. He sojourned first at Vibo, in the extreme south of Italy, intending to pass from thence into Sicily. It was there that he learned that a certain distance had been prescribed; but it seems that he had already heard that the Proconsular Governor of the island would not receive him, fearing C?sar. Then he came north from Vibo 323to Brundisium, that being the port by which travellers generally went from Italy to the East. He had determined to leave his family in Rome, feeling, probably, that it would be easier for him to find a temporary home for himself than for him and them together. And there were money difficulties in which Atticus helped him.280 Atticus, always wealthy, had now become a very rich man by the death of an uncle. We do not know of what nature were the money arrangements made by Cicero at the time, but there can be no doubt that the losses by his exile were very great. There was a thorough disruption of his property, for which the subsequent generosity220 of his country was unable altogether to atone221. But this sat lightly on Cicero's heart. Pecuniary222 losses never weighed heavily with him.
As he journeyed back from Vibo to Brundisium friends were very kind to him, in spite of the law. Toward the end of the speech which he made five years afterward on behalf of his friend C. Plancius he explains the debt of gratitude33 which he owed to his client, whose kindness to him in his exile had been very great. He commences his story of the goodness of Plancius by describing the generosity of the towns on the road to Brundisium, and the hospitality of his friend Flavius, who had received him at his house in the neighborhood of that town, and had placed him safely on board a ship when at last he resolved to cross over to Dyrrachium. There were many schemes running in his head at this time. At one period he had resolved to pass through Macedonia into Asia, and to remain for a while at Cyzicum. This idea he expresses in a letter to his wife written from Brundisium. Then he goes, wailing5 no doubt, but in words which to me seem very natural as 324coming from a husband in such a condition: "O me perditum, O me afflictum;"281 exclamations223 which it is impossible to translate, as they refer to his wife's separation from himself rather than to his own personal sufferings. "How am I to ask you to come to me?" he says; "you a woman, ill in health, worn out in body and in spirit. I cannot ask you! Must I then live without you? It must be so, I think. If there be any hope of my return, it is you must look to it, you that must strengthen it; but if, as I fear, the thing is done, then come to me. If I can have you I shall not be altogether destroyed." No doubt these are wailings; but is a man unmanly because he so wails to the wife of his bosom? Other humans have written prettily224 about women: it was common for Romans to do so. Catullus desires from Lesbia as many kisses as are the stars of night or the sands of Libya. Horace swears that he would perish for Chloe if Chloe might be left alive. "When I am dying," says Tibullus to Delia, "may I be gazing at you; may my last grasp hold your hand." Propertius tells Cynthia that she stands to him in lieu of home and parents, and all the joys of life. "Whether he be sad with his friends or happy, Cynthia does it all." The language in each case is perfect; but what other Roman was there of whom we have evidence that he spoke to his wife like this? Ovid in his letters from his banishment says much of his love for his wife; but there is no passion expressed in anything that Ovid wrote.
Clodius, as soon as the enactment against Cicero became law, caused it be carried into effect with all its possible cruelties. The criminal's property was confiscated. The house on the Palatine Hill was destroyed, and the goods were put up to auction225, with, as we are told, a great lack of buyers. His choicest treasures were carried away by the Consuls themselves. Piso, who had lived near him in Rome, got for himself and for 325his father-in-law the rich booty from the town house. The country villas226 were also destroyed, and Gabinius, who had a country house close by Cicero's Tusculan retreat, took even the very shrubs227 out of the garden. He tells the story of the greed and enmity of the Consuls in the speech he made after his return, Pro Domo Sua,282 pleading for the restitution228 of his household property. "My house on the Palatine was burnt," he says, "not by any accident, but by arson229. In the mean time the Consuls were feasting, and were congratulating themselves among the conspirators, when one boasted that he had been Catiline's friend, the other that Cethegus had been his cousin." By this he implies that the conspiracy which during his Consulship had been so odious to Rome was now, in these days of the Triumvirate, again in favor among Roman aristocrats.
He went across from Brundisium to Dyrrachium, and from thence to Thessalonica, where he was treated with most loving-kindness by Plancius, who was Qu?stor in these parts, and who came down to Dyrrachium to meet him, clad in mourning for the occasion. This was the Plancius whom he afterward defended, and indeed he was bound to do so. Plancius seems to have had but little dread230 of the law, though he was a Roman officer employed in the very province to the government of which the present Consul Piso had already been appointed. Thessalonica was within four hundred miles, and yet Cicero lived there with Plancius for some months.
The letters from Cicero during his exile are to me very touching231, though I have been told so often that in having written them he lacked the fortitude232 of a Roman. Perhaps I am more capable of appreciating natural humanity than Roman fortitude. We remember the story of the Spartan233 boy who allowed the fox to bite him beneath his frock without crying. I think we may imagine that he refrained from tears in public, before some herd234 of school-fellows, or a bench of masters, 326or amid the sternness of parental235 authority; but that he told his sister afterward how he had been tortured, or his mother as he lay against her bosom, or perhaps his chosen chum. Such reticences are made dignified236 by the occasion, when something has to be won by controlling the expression to which nature uncontrolled would give utterance61, but are not in themselves evidence either of sagacity or of courage. Roman fortitude was but a suit of armor to be worn on state occasions. If we come across a warrior237 with his crested238 helmet and his sword and his spear, we see, no doubt, an impressive object. If we could find him in his night-shirt, the same man would be there, but those who do not look deeply into things would be apt to despise him because his grand trappings were absent. Chance has given us Cicero in his night-shirt. The linen239 is of such fine texture240 that we are delighted with it, but we despise the man because he wore a garment—such as we wear ourselves indeed, though when we wear it nobody is then brought in to look at us.
There is one most touching letter written from Thessalonica to his brother, by whom, after thoughts vacillating this way and that, he was unwilling241 to be visited, thinking that a meeting would bring more of pain than of service. "Mi frater, mi frater, mi frater!" he begins. The words in English would hardly give all the pathos242. "Did you think that I did not write because I am angry, or that I did not wish to see you? I angry with you! But I could not endure to be seen by you. You would not have seen your brother; not him whom you had left; not him whom you had known; not him whom, weeping as you went away, you had dismissed, weeping himself as he strove to follow you."283 Then he heaps blame on his own head, bitterly accusing himself because he had brought his brother to such a pass of sorrow. In this letter he throws great blame upon Hortensius, whom together with Pompey he accuses of 327betraying him. What truth there may have been in this accusation as to Hortensius we have no means of saying. He couples Pompey in the same charge, and as to Pompey's treatment of him there can be no doubt. Pompey had been untrue to his promises because of his bond with C?sar. It is probable that Hortensius had failed to put himself forward on Cicero's behalf with that alacrity243 which the one advocate had expected from the other. Cicero and Hortensius were friends afterward, but so were Cicero and Pompey. Cicero was forgiving by nature, and also by self-training. It did not suit his purposes to retain his enmities. Had there been a possibility of reconciling Antony to the cause of the "optimates" after the Philippics, he would have availed himself of it.
Cicero at one time intended to go to Buthrotum in Epirus, where Atticus possessed244 a house and property; but he changed his purpose. He remained at Thessalonica till November, and then returned to Dyrrachium, having all through his exile been kept alive by tidings of steps taken for his recall. There seems very soon to have grown up a feeling in Rome that the city had disgraced itself by banishing245 such a man; and C?sar had gone to his provinces. We can well imagine that when he had once left Rome, with all his purposes achieved, having so far quieted the tongue of the strong speaker who might have disturbed them, he would take no further steps to perpetuate246 the orator's banishment. Then Pompey and Clodius soon quarrelled. Pompey, without C?sar to direct him, found the arrogance247 of the Patrician248 Tribune insupportable. We hear of wheels within wheels, and stories within stories, in the drama of Roman history as it was played at this time. Together with Cicero, it had been necessary to C?sar's projects that Cato also should be got out of Rome; and this had been managed by means of Clodius, who had a bill passed for the honorable employment of Cato on state purposes in Cyprus. Cato had found himself obliged to go. It was as though our Prime-minister had got parliamentary authority for sending a noisy 328member of the Opposition to Asiatic Turkey for six months There was an attempt, or an alleged attempt, of Clodius to have Pompey murdered; and there was street-fighting, so that Pompey was besieged249, or pretended to be besieged, in his own house. "We might as well seek to set a charivari to music as to write the history of this political witches' revel," says Mommsen, speaking of the state of Rome when C?sar was gone, Cicero banished, and Pompey supposed to be in the ascendant.284 There was, at any rate, quarrelling between Clodius and Pompey, in the course of which Pompey was induced to consent to Cicero's return. Then Clodius took upon himself, in revenge, to turn against the Triumvirate altogether, and to repudiate250 even C?sar himself. But it was all a vain hurly-burly, as to which C?sar, when he heard the details in Gaul, could only have felt how little was to be gained by maintaining his alliance with Pompey. He had achieved his purpose, which he could not have done without the assistance of Crassus, whose wealth, and of Pompey, whose authority, stood highest in Rome; and now, having had his legions voted to him, and his provinces, and his prolonged term of years, he cared nothing for either of them.
There is a little story which must be repeated, as against Cicero, in reference to this period of his exile, because it has been told in all records of his life. Were I to omit the little story, it would seem as though I shunned251 the records which have been repeated as opposed to his credit. He had written, some time back, a squib in which he had been severe upon the elder Curio; so it is supposed; but it matters little who was the object or what the subject. This had got wind in Rome, as such matters do sometimes, and he now feared that it would do him a mischief252 with the Curios and the friends of the Curios. 329The authorship was only matter of gossip. Could it not be denied? "As it is written," says Cicero, "in a style inferior to that which is usual to me, can it not be shown not to have been mine?"285 Had Cicero possessed all the Christian77 virtues253, as we hope that prelates and pastors254 possess them in this happy land, he would not have been betrayed into, at any rate, the expression of such a wish. As it is, the enemies of Cicero must make the most of it. His friends, I think, will look upon it leniently255.
Continued efforts were made among Cicero's friends at Rome to bring him back, with which he was not altogether contented256. He argues the matter repeatedly with Atticus, not always in the best temper. His friends at Rome were, he thought, doing the matter amiss: they would fail, and he would still have to finish his days abroad. Atticus, in his way to Epirus, visits him at Dyrrachium, and he is sure that Atticus would not have left Rome but that the affair was hopeless. The reader of the correspondence is certainly led to the belief that Atticus must have been the most patient of friends; but he feels, at the same time, that Atticus would not have been patient had not Cicero been affectionate and true. The Consuls for the new year were Lentulus and Metellus Nepos. The former was Cicero's declared friend, and the other had already abandoned his enmity. Clodius was no longer Tribune, and Pompey had been brought to yield. The Senate were all but unanimous. But there was still life in Clodius and his party; and day dragged itself after day, and month after month, while Cicero still lingered at Dyrrachium, waiting till a bill should have been passed by the people. Pompey, who was never whole-hearted in anything, had declared that a bill voted by the people would be necessary. The bill at last was voted, on the 14th of August, and Cicero, who knew well what was being done at Rome, passed over from Dyrrachium to Brundisium 330on the same day, having been a year and four months absent from Rome. During the year b.c. 57, up to the time of his return, he wrote but three letters that have come to us—two very short notes to Atticus, in the first of which he declares that he will come over on the authority of a decree of the Senate, without waiting for a law. In the second he falls again into despair, declaring that everything is over. In the third he asks Metellus for his aid, telling the Consul that unless it be given soon the man for whom it is asked will no longer be living to receive it. Metellus did give the aid very cordially.
It has been remarked that Cicero did nothing for literature during his banishment, either by writing essays or preparing speeches; and it has been implied that the prostration of mind arising from his misfortunes must have been indeed complete, when a man whose general life was made marvellous by its fecundity257 had been repressed into silence. It should, however, be borne in mind that there could be no inducement for the writing of speeches when there was no opportunity of delivering them. As to his essays, including what we call his Philosophy and his Rhetoric258, they who are familiar with his works will remember how apt he was, in all that he produced, to refer to the writings of others. He translates and he quotes, and he makes constant use of the arguments and illustrations of those who have gone before him. He was a man who rarely worked without the use of a library. When I think how impossible it would be for me to repeat this oft-told tale of Cicero's life without a crowd of books within reach of my hand, I can easily understand why Cicero was silent at Thessalonica and Dyrrachium. It has been remarked also by a modern critic that we find "in the letters from exile a carelessness and inaccuracy of expression which contrasts strongly with the style of his happier days." I will not for a moment put my judgment in such a matter in opposition to that of Mr. Tyrrell—but I should myself have been inclined rather to say 331that the style of Cicero's letters varies constantly, being very different when used to Atticus, or to his brother, or to lighter259 friends such as Poetus and Trebatius; and very different again when business of state was in hand, as are his letters to Decimus Brutus, Cassius Brutus, and Plancus. To be correct in familiar letters is not to charm. A studied negligence260 is needed to make such work live to posterity—a grace of loose expression which may indeed have been made easy by use, but which is far from easy to the idle and unpractised writer. His sorrow, perhaps, required a style of its own. I have not felt my own untutored perception of the language to be offended by unfitting slovenliness261 in the expression of his grief.
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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condemn
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| vt.谴责，指责；宣判(罪犯)，判刑 | |
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condemns
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| v.（通常因道义上的原因而）谴责( condemn的第三人称单数 )；宣判；宣布…不能使用；迫使…陷于不幸的境地 | |
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calamity
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| n.灾害，祸患，不幸事件 | |
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wailing
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| v.哭叫，哀号( wail的现在分词 )；沱 | |
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6
wail
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| vt./vi.大声哀号，恸哭；呼啸，尖啸 | |
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7
injustice
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| n.非正义，不公正，不公平，侵犯（别人的）权利 | |
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8
follies
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| 罪恶，时事讽刺剧； 愚蠢，蠢笨，愚蠢的行为、思想或做法( folly的名词复数 ) | |
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9
marred
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| adj. 被损毁, 污损的 | |
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10
concession
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| n.让步，妥协；特许(权) | |
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11
posterity
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| n.后裔，子孙，后代 | |
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12
inflicted
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| 把…强加给，使承受，遭受( inflict的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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13
melancholy
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| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
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14
pro
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| n.赞成，赞成的意见，赞成者 | |
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15
prostration
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| n. 平伏, 跪倒, 疲劳 | |
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16
retired
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| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
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17
resentments
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| （因受虐待而）愤恨，不满，怨恨( resentment的名词复数 ) | |
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18
manliness
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| 刚毅 | |
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19
bloody
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| adj.非常的的；流血的；残忍的；adv.很；vt.血染 | |
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20
axe
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| n.斧子；v.用斧头砍，削减 | |
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21
martyr
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| n.烈士，殉难者；vt.杀害，折磨，牺牲 | |
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22
bishops
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| （基督教某些教派管辖大教区的）主教( bishop的名词复数 )； （国际象棋的）象 | |
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23
wretch
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| n.可怜的人，不幸的人；卑鄙的人 | |
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24
sift
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| v.筛撒，纷落，详察 | |
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25
criticise
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| v.批评，评论；非难 | |
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26
misery
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| n.痛苦，苦恼，苦难；悲惨的境遇，贫苦 | |
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27
disparage
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| v.贬抑，轻蔑 | |
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28
doom
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| n.厄运，劫数；v.注定，命定 | |
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29
doomed
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| 命定的 | |
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30
justify
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| vt.证明…正当(或有理)，为…辩护 | |
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31
wails
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| 痛哭，哭声( wail的名词复数 ) | |
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32
ingratitude
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| n.忘恩负义 | |
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33
gratitude
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| adj.感激，感谢 | |
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34
throb
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| v.震颤，颤动；(急速强烈地)跳动，搏动 | |
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35
appreciation
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| n.评价；欣赏；感谢；领会，理解；价格上涨 | |
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36
maxims
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| n.格言，座右铭( maxim的名词复数 ) | |
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37
maxim
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| n.格言，箴言 | |
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38
thither
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| adv.向那里；adj.在那边的，对岸的 | |
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39
wrath
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| n.愤怒，愤慨，暴怒 | |
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40
deterred
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| v.阻止，制止( deter的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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41
scruples
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| n.良心上的不安( scruple的名词复数 )；顾虑，顾忌v.感到于心不安，有顾忌( scruple的第三人称单数 ) | |
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42
fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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43
potent
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| adj.强有力的，有权势的；有效力的 | |
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44
minions
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| n.奴颜婢膝的仆从( minion的名词复数 )；走狗；宠儿；受人崇拜者 | |
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45
prosecution
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| n.起诉，告发，检举，执行，经营 | |
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46
expedient
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| adj.有用的，有利的；n.紧急的办法，权宜之计 | |
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47
blench
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| v.退缩，畏缩 | |
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48
indifference
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| n.不感兴趣，不关心，冷淡，不在乎 | |
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49
specially
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| adv.特定地；特殊地；明确地 | |
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50
testimony
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| n.证词；见证，证明 | |
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51
severely
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| adv.严格地；严厉地；非常恶劣地 | |
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52
applied
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| adj.应用的；v.应用，适用 | |
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53
consul
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| n.领事；执政官 | |
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54
suppliant
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| adj.哀恳的；n.恳求者，哀求者 | |
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55
conformity
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| n.一致，遵从，顺从 | |
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56
improper
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| adj.不适当的，不合适的，不正确的，不合礼仪的 | |
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57
forum
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| n.论坛，讨论会 | |
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58
exultation
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| n.狂喜，得意 | |
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59
trampled
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| 踩( trample的过去式和过去分词 )； 践踏； 无视； 侵犯 | |
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60
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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61
utterance
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| n.用言语表达，话语，言语 | |
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62
utterances
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| n.发声( utterance的名词复数 )；说话方式；语调；言论 | |
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63
accusation
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| n.控告，指责，谴责 | |
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64
arraigned
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| v.告发( arraign的过去式和过去分词 )；控告；传讯；指责 | |
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65
rebuke
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| v.指责，非难，斥责 [反]praise | |
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66
busts
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| 半身雕塑像( bust的名词复数 )； 妇女的胸部； 胸围； 突击搜捕 | |
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67
retinue
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| n.侍从；随员 | |
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68
impeached
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| v.控告（某人）犯罪( impeach的过去式和过去分词 )；弹劾；对（某事物）怀疑；提出异议 | |
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69
iniquitous
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|
| adj.不公正的；邪恶的；高得出奇的 | |
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70
confiscated
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| 没收，充公( confiscate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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71
dismantled
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| 拆开( dismantle的过去式和过去分词 )； 拆卸； 废除； 取消 | |
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72
mores
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| n.风俗，习惯，民德，道德观念 | |
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73
narratives
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| 记叙文( narrative的名词复数 )； 故事； 叙述； 叙述部分 | |
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74
narrative
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| n.叙述，故事；adj.叙事的，故事体的 | |
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75
valor
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| n.勇气，英勇 | |
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76
antedated
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| v.（在历史上）比…为早( antedate的过去式和过去分词 )；先于；早于；（在信、支票等上）填写比实际日期早的日期 | |
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77
Christian
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| adj.基督教徒的；n.基督教徒 | |
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78
democrat
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| n.民主主义者，民主人士；民主党党员 | |
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79
forensic
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| adj.法庭的，雄辩的 | |
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80
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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81
afterward
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|
| adv.后来；以后 | |
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82
antagonism
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| n.对抗，敌对，对立 | |
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83
opposition
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| n.反对，敌对 | |
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84
devoted
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|
| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
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85
conspiracy
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|
| n.阴谋，密谋，共谋 | |
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86
overthrow
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|
| v.推翻，打倒，颠覆；n.推翻，瓦解，颠覆 | |
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87
exigencies
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| n.急切需要 | |
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88
etiquette
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|
| n.礼仪，礼节；规矩 | |
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89
aristocrats
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| n.贵族( aristocrat的名词复数 ) | |
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90
motives
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| n.动机，目的( motive的名词复数 ) | |
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91
motive
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| n.动机，目的；adv.发动的，运动的 | |
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92
solely
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| adv.仅仅，唯一地 | |
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93
wedded
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|
| adj.正式结婚的；渴望…的，执著于…的v.嫁，娶，（与…）结婚( wed的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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94
oration
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| n.演说，致辞，叙述法 | |
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95
corruption
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|
| n.腐败，堕落，贪污 | |
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96
corrupt
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| v.贿赂，收买；adj.腐败的，贪污的 | |
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97
majesty
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| n.雄伟，壮丽，庄严，威严；最高权威，王权 | |
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98
provincial
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|
| adj.省的，地方的；n．外省人，乡下人 | |
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99
consuls
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| 领事( consul的名词复数 )； （古罗马共和国时期）执政官 （古罗马共和国及其军队的最高首长，同时共有两位，每年选举一次） | |
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100
elite
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| n.精英阶层；实力集团；adj.杰出的，卓越的 | |
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101
venality
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| n.贪赃枉法，腐败 | |
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102
rapacity
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| n.贪婪，贪心，劫掠的欲望 | |
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103
eloquence
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| n.雄辩；口才，修辞 | |
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104
tampered
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|
| v.窜改( tamper的过去式 )；篡改；（用不正当手段）影响；瞎摆弄 | |
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105
consulship
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| 领事的职位或任期 | |
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106
bulwark
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| n.堡垒，保障，防御 | |
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107
bind
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| vt.捆，包扎；装订；约束；使凝固；vi.变硬 | |
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108
tampering
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| v.窜改( tamper的现在分词 )；篡改；（用不正当手段）影响；瞎摆弄 | |
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109
orations
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| n.（正式仪式中的）演说，演讲( oration的名词复数 ) | |
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110
attentive
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| adj.注意的，专心的；关心(别人)的，殷勤的 | |
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111
scathing
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| adj.（言词、文章）严厉的，尖刻的；不留情的adv.严厉地，尖刻地v.伤害，损害（尤指使之枯萎）( scathe的现在分词) | |
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112
plunder
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| vt.劫掠财物，掠夺；n.劫掠物，赃物；劫掠 | |
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113
plunderer
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| 掠夺者 | |
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114
ridicule
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| v.讥讽，挖苦；n.嘲弄 | |
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115
currying
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| 加脂操作 | |
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116
adherence
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| n.信奉，依附，坚持，固着 | |
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117
interfere
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| v.(in)干涉，干预；(with)妨碍，打扰 | |
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118
vacillation
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| n.动摇；忧柔寡断 | |
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119
dealing
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| n.经商方法，待人态度 | |
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120
enveloped
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| v.包围，笼罩，包住( envelop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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121
consular
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| a.领事的 | |
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122
consistency
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| n.一贯性，前后一致，稳定性；(液体的)浓度 | |
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123
oligarchy
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| n.寡头政治 | |
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124
thraldom
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| n.奴隶的身份，奴役，束缚 | |
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125
creed
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| n.信条；信念，纲领 | |
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126
fortress
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| n.堡垒，防御工事 | |
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127
oligarchical
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| adj.寡头政治的，主张寡头政治的 | |
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128
censors
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| 删剪（书籍、电影等中被认为犯忌、违反道德或政治上危险的内容）( censor的第三人称单数 ) | |
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129
diminution
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| n.减少；变小 | |
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130
aspiration
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| n.志向，志趣抱负；渴望；(语)送气音；吸出 | |
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131
odious
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| adj.可憎的，讨厌的 | |
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132
flirted
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| v.调情，打情骂俏( flirt的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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133
democrats
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| n.民主主义者，民主人士( democrat的名词复数 ) | |
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134
commonwealth
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| n.共和国，联邦，共同体 | |
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135
profligacy
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| n.放荡，不检点，肆意挥霍 | |
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136
dominion
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| n.统治，管辖，支配权；领土，版图 | |
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137
sleekness
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| 油滑； 油光发亮； 时髦阔气； 线条明快 | |
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138
metropolitan
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| adj.大城市的，大都会的 | |
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139
stagnant
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| adj.不流动的，停滞的，不景气的 | |
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140
fabric
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| n.织物，织品，布；构造，结构，组织 | |
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141
shibboleth
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| n.陈规陋习；口令；暗语 | |
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142
conjured
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| 用魔术变出( conjure的过去式和过去分词 )； 祈求，恳求； 变戏法； （变魔术般地） 使…出现 | |
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143
well-being
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| n.安康，安乐，幸福 | |
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144
appellation
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| n.名称，称呼 | |
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145
thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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146
vessel
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| n.船舶；容器，器皿；管，导管，血管 | |
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147
detrimental
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| adj.损害的，造成伤害的 | |
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148
reconstruction
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| n.重建，再现，复原 | |
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149
imbued
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| v.使（某人/某事）充满或激起（感情等）( imbue的过去式和过去分词 )；使充满；灌输；激发（强烈感情或品质等） | |
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150
wink
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| n.眨眼，使眼色，瞬间；v.眨眼，使眼色，闪烁 | |
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151
rigor
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| n.严酷，严格，严厉 | |
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152
murmurs
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| n.低沉、连续而不清的声音( murmur的名词复数 )；低语声；怨言；嘀咕 | |
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153
bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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154
severed
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| v.切断，断绝( sever的过去式和过去分词 )；断，裂 | |
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155
capability
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| n.能力；才能；(pl)可发展的能力或特性等 | |
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156
overtures
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| n.主动的表示，提议；（向某人做出的）友好表示、姿态或提议( overture的名词复数 )；（歌剧、芭蕾舞、音乐剧等的）序曲，前奏曲 | |
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157
quelled
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| v.（用武力）制止，结束，镇压( quell的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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158
warded
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| 有锁孔的，有钥匙榫槽的 | |
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159
kinsman
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| n.男亲属 | |
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160
procured
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| v.（努力）取得， （设法）获得( procure的过去式和过去分词 )；拉皮条 | |
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161
prey
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| n.被掠食者，牺牲者，掠食；v.捕食，掠夺，折磨 | |
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162
condemned
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| adj. 被责难的, 被宣告有罪的 动词condemn的过去式和过去分词 | |
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163
alleged
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| a.被指控的，嫌疑的 | |
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164
Vogue
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| n.时髦，时尚；adj.流行的 | |
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165
conspirators
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| n.共谋者，阴谋家( conspirator的名词复数 ) | |
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166
conspirator
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| n.阴谋者，谋叛者 | |
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167
enacted
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| 制定（法律），通过（法案）( enact的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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168
enact
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| vt.制定(法律)；上演，扮演 | |
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169
override
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| vt.不顾，不理睬，否决；压倒，优先于 | |
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170
slaughtered
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| v.屠杀，杀戮，屠宰( slaughter的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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171
lessen
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| vt.减少，减轻；缩小 | |
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172
leaven
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| v.使发酵；n.酵母；影响 | |
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173
proceedings
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| n.进程，过程，议程；诉讼(程序)；公报 | |
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174
proceeding
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| n.行动，进行，(pl.)会议录，学报 | |
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175
legislative
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| n.立法机构，立法权；adj.立法的，有立法权的 | |
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176
monstrous
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| adj.巨大的；恐怖的；可耻的，丢脸的 | |
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177
bribes
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| n.贿赂( bribe的名词复数 )；向（某人）行贿，贿赂v.贿赂( bribe的第三人称单数 )；向（某人）行贿，贿赂 | |
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178
vindicate
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| v.为…辩护或辩解，辩明；证明…正确 | |
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179
patriotism
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| n.爱国精神，爱国心，爱国主义 | |
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180
susceptible
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| adj.过敏的，敏感的；易动感情的，易受感动的 | |
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181
citizenship
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| n.市民权，公民权，国民的义务(身份) | |
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182
muse
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| n.缪斯（希腊神话中的女神），创作灵感 | |
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183
attain
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| vt.达到，获得，完成 | |
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184
faction
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| n.宗派，小集团；派别；派系斗争 | |
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185
valid
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| adj.有确实根据的；有效的；正当的，合法的 | |
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186
purport
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| n.意义，要旨，大要；v.意味著，做为...要旨，要领是... | |
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187
purported
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|
| adj.传说的，谣传的v.声称是…，（装得）像是…的样子( purport的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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188
malefactor
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| n.罪犯 | |
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189
withholding
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| 扣缴税款 | |
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190
banishment
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| n.放逐，驱逐 | |
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191
enactment
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| n.演出，担任…角色；制订，通过 | |
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192
banished
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| v.放逐，驱逐( banish的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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193
affected
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| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
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194
witty
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| adj.机智的，风趣的 | |
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195
hatred
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| n.憎恶，憎恨，仇恨 | |
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196
internecine
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| adj.两败俱伤的 | |
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197
rumored
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|
| adj.传说的，谣传的v.传闻( rumor的过去式和过去分词 )；[古]名誉；咕哝；[古]喧嚷 | |
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198
chivalry
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| n.骑士气概，侠义；（男人）对女人彬彬有礼，献殷勤 | |
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199
decency
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| n.体面，得体，合宜，正派，庄重 | |
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200
venom
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| n.毒液，恶毒，痛恨 | |
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201
precipitate
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| adj.突如其来的；vt.使突然发生；n.沉淀物 | |
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202
judgment
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| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
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203
impeded
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| 阻碍，妨碍，阻止( impede的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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204
censure
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| v./n.责备；非难；责难 | |
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205
scrupulous
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| adj.审慎的，小心翼翼的，完全的，纯粹的 | |
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206
folly
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| n.愚笨，愚蠢，蠢事，蠢行，傻话 | |
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207
distress
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| n.苦恼，痛苦，不舒适；不幸；vt.使悲痛 | |
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208
dissuaded
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| 劝（某人）勿做某事，劝阻( dissuade的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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209
rampant
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| adj.(植物)蔓生的；狂暴的，无约束的 | |
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210
lawful
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| adj.法律许可的，守法的，合法的 | |
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211
compliance
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| n.顺从；服从；附和；屈从 | |
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212
determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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213
villa
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| n.别墅，城郊小屋 | |
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214
corroborated
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| v.证实，支持（某种说法、信仰、理论等）( corroborate的过去式 ) | |
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215
miserably
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|
| adv.痛苦地；悲惨地；糟糕地；极度地 | |
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216
grovelled
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| v.卑躬屈节，奴颜婢膝( grovel的过去式和过去分词 )；趴 | |
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217
succor
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| n.援助，帮助；v.给予帮助 | |
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218
geographical
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| adj.地理的；地区(性)的 | |
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219
sufficiently
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| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
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220
generosity
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| n.大度，慷慨，慷慨的行为 | |
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221
atone
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| v.赎罪，补偿 | |
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222
pecuniary
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| adj.金钱的；金钱上的 | |
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223
exclamations
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| n.呼喊( exclamation的名词复数 )；感叹；感叹语；感叹词 | |
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224
prettily
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| adv.优美地；可爱地 | |
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225
auction
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| n.拍卖；拍卖会；vt.拍卖 | |
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226
villas
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| 别墅，公馆( villa的名词复数 )； （城郊）住宅 | |
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227
shrubs
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| 灌木( shrub的名词复数 ) | |
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228
restitution
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| n.赔偿；恢复原状 | |
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229
arson
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| n.纵火，放火 | |
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230
dread
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| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
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231
touching
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| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
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232
fortitude
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| n.坚忍不拔；刚毅 | |
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233
spartan
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| adj.简朴的，刻苦的；n.斯巴达；斯巴达式的人 | |
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234
herd
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| n.兽群，牧群；vt.使集中，把…赶在一起 | |
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235
parental
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| adj.父母的；父的；母的 | |
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236
dignified
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| a.可敬的，高贵的 | |
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237
warrior
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| n.勇士，武士，斗士 | |
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238
crested
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| adj.有顶饰的，有纹章的，有冠毛的v.到达山顶（或浪峰）( crest的过去式和过去分词 )；到达洪峰，达到顶点 | |
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239
linen
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| n.亚麻布，亚麻线，亚麻制品；adj.亚麻布制的，亚麻的 | |
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240
texture
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| n.(织物)质地；(材料)构造；结构；肌理 | |
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241
unwilling
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| adj.不情愿的 | |
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242
pathos
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| n.哀婉，悲怆 | |
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243
alacrity
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| n.敏捷，轻快，乐意 | |
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244
possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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245
banishing
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| v.放逐，驱逐( banish的现在分词 ) | |
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246
perpetuate
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| v.使永存，使永记不忘 | |
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247
arrogance
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| n.傲慢，自大 | |
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248
patrician
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|
| adj.贵族的，显贵的；n.贵族；有教养的人；罗马帝国的地方官 | |
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249
besieged
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| 包围，围困，围攻( besiege的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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250
repudiate
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| v.拒绝，拒付，拒绝履行 | |
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251
shunned
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| v.避开，回避，避免( shun的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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252
mischief
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| n.损害，伤害，危害；恶作剧，捣蛋，胡闹 | |
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253
virtues
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| 美德( virtue的名词复数 )； 德行； 优点； 长处 | |
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254
pastors
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| n.（基督教的）牧师( pastor的名词复数 ) | |
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255
leniently
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| 温和地，仁慈地 | |
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256
contented
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| adj.满意的，安心的，知足的 | |
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257
fecundity
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| n.生产力；丰富 | |
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258
rhetoric
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| n.修辞学，浮夸之言语 | |
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259
lighter
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| n.打火机，点火器；驳船；v.用驳船运送；light的比较级 | |
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260
negligence
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| n.疏忽，玩忽，粗心大意 | |
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261
slovenliness
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参考例句： |
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