 Section 21 of Library of the World's Best Literature, Ancient and Modern, Volume 9. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Colleen McMahon. Library of the World's Best Literature, Ancient and Modern, Volume 9. Section 21. Selected excerpts from the Dialogues of Cicero. Old Friends Better Than New From the Dialogue on Friendship But there arises on this subject a somewhat difficult question. Whether ever new friends, if deserving friendship, are to be preferred to old ones, just as we are want to prefer young colts to old horses. A perplexity unworthy of a man. For there ought to be no satiety of friendship as of other things. Everything which is oldest, as those wines which bear age well, ought to be sweetest. And that is true, which is sometimes said, many bushels of salt must be eaten together, before the duty of friendship can be fulfilled. But new friendships, if they afford a hope that, as in the case of plants which never disappoint, fruits shall appear, such are not to be rejected. Yet the old one must be preserved in its proper place, for the power of age and custom is exceedingly great. Besides, in the very case of the horse, which I just mentioned, if there is no impediment, there is no one who does not more pleasurably use that to which he is accustomed, than one unbroken and strange to him. And habit asserts its power, and habit prevails, not only in the case of this, which is animate, but also in the cases of those things which are inanimate, since we take delight in the very mountainous or woody scenery among which we have long dwelt. Honored Old Age From the Dialogue on Old Age But in my whole discourse, remember that I am praising that old age which is established on the foundations of youth, from which this is affected which I once asserted with the great approbation of all present, that wretched was the old age which had to defend itself by speaking. Neither gray hairs nor wrinkles can suddenly catch respect, but the former part of life, honorably spent, reaps the fruits of authority at the close. For these very observances which seem light and common are marks of honor, to be saluted, to be sought after, to receive precedence, to have persons rising up to you, to be attended on the way, to be escorted home, to be consulted, points which, both among us and in other states, in proportion as they are the most excellent in their morals, are the most scrupulously observed. They say that Lysander, the Lacodemonian, whom I mentioned a little above, was accustomed to remark that Lacodemon was the most honorable abode for old age, for nowhere is so much conceited to that time of life, nowhere is old age more respected. Nay further, it is recorded that when at Athens during the games, a certain elderly person had entered the theater, a place was nowhere offered him in that large assembly by his own townsmen, but when he had approached the Lacodemonians, who, as they were ambassadors, had taken their seats together in a particular place, they all rose up and invited the old man to a seat, and when reiterated applause had been bestowed upon them by the whole assembly, one of them remarked that the Athenians knew what was right, but were unwilling to do it. There are many excellent rules in our college, but this of which I am treating especially, that in proportion as each man has taken the advantage in age, so he takes precedence in giving his opinion, and older augurs are preferred not only to those who are higher in office, but even to such as are an actual command. What pleasures then of the body can be compared with the privileges of authority, which they who have nobly employed seem to me to have consummated the drama of life, and not like inexpert performers to have broken down in the last act. Still, old men are peevish and fretful, and passionate and unmanageable. Nay, if we seek for such, also covetous. But these are the faults of their characters, not of their old age. And yet, that peevishness and those faults which I have mentioned have some excuse, not quite satisfactory indeed, but such as may be admitted. They fancy that they are neglected, despised, made a jest of. Besides, in a weak state of body every offense is irritating. All which defects, however, are extenuated by good dispositions and qualities, and this may be discovered not only in real life, but on the stage, from the two brothers that are represented in the brothers, how much austerity in the one, and how much gentleness in the other. Such is the fact, for as it is not every wine, so it is not every man's life that grows sour from old age. I approve of gravity in old age, but this in a moderate degree, like everything else, harshness by no means. What avarice in an old man can propose to itself I cannot conceive, for can anything be more absurd than in proportion as less of our journey remains to seek a greater supply of provisions? Death is welcome to the old, from the dialogue on old age. An old man indeed has nothing to hope for. Yet he is in so much the happier state than a young one, since he has already attained what the other is only hoping for. The one is wishing to live long, the other has lived long. And yet, good gods, what is there in man's life that can be called long? For allow the latest period, let us anticipate the age of the kings of the Tartesi. For there dwelt, as I find it recorded, a man named Argenthonius Agatis, who reigned for eighty years and lived one hundred and twenty. But to my mind, nothing whatever seems of long duration, in which there is any end. For when that arrives, then the time which has passed has flowed away. That only remains which you have secured by virtue and right conduct. Ours indeed depart from us and days and months and years. Nor does pastime ever return, nor can it be discovered what is to follow. Whatever time is assigned to each to live, with that he ought to be content. For neither need the drama be performed entire by the actor in order to give satisfaction, provided he be approved in whatever act he may be. Nor need the wise man live till the plodite. For the short period of life is long enough for living well and honorably. And if you should advance further, you need no more grief than farmers do when the loveliness of springtime hath passed, that summer and autumn have come. For spring represents the time of youth, and gives promise of the future fruits. The remaining seasons are intended for plucking and gathering in those fruits. Now, the harvest of old age, as I have often said, is the recollection and abundance of blessings previously secured. In truth, everything that happens agreeably to nature is to be reckoned among blessings. What, however, is so agreeable to nature as for an old man to die, which even is the lot of the young, though nature opposes and resists. And thus it is that young men seem to me to die just as when the violence of flame is extinguished by a flood of water. Whereas old men die as the exhausted fire goes out spontaneously without the exertion of any force, and as fruits when they are green are plucked by force from the trees, but when ripe and mellow drop off, so violence takes away their lives from youths, maturity from old men. A state which to me indeed is so delightful that the nearer I approach to death, I seem as if it were to be getting sight of land, and at length after a long voyage to be just coming into harbor. Great orators and their training, from the Dialogue on Oratory. For who can suppose that amid the great multitude of students, the utmost abundance of masters, the most eminent geniuses among men, the infinite variety of causes, the most ample rewards offered to eloquence? There is any other reason to be found for the small number of orators than the incredible magnitude and difficulty of the art. A knowledge of a vast number of things is necessary, without which viability of words is empty and ridiculous. Speech itself is to be formed not merely by choice, but by careful construction of words, and all the emotions of the mind which nature has given to man must be intimately known, for all the force and art of speaking must be employed in allaying or exciting the feelings of those who listen. To this must be added a certain portion of grace and wit, learning worthy of a well-bred man, and quickness and brevity in replying as well as attacking, accompanied with a refined decorum and urbanity. Besides, the whole of antiquity and a multitude of examples is to be kept in the memory, nor is the knowledge of laws in general, or of the civil law in particular, to be neglected. And why need I add any remarks on delivery itself, which is to be ordered by action of body, by gesture, by look, and by modulation and variation of the voice, the great power of which alone and in itself? The comparatively trivial art of actors and the stage proves, on which they'll all bestow their utmost labor to form their look, voice, and gesture. Who knows not how few there are, and have ever been, to whom we can attend with patience? What can I say of that repository for all things, the memory? Which, unless it be made the keeper of the matter and words that are the fruits of thought and invention, all the talents of the orator we see, though they be of the highest degree of excellence, will be of no avail. Let us then cease to wonder what is the cause of the scarcity of good speakers, since eloquence results from all those qualifications, in each of which, singly, it is a great merit to labor successfully. And let us rather exhort our children and others whose glory and honor is dear to us, to contemplate in their minds the full magnitude of the object, and not to trust that they can reach the height at which they aim by the aid of the precepts, masters, and exercises, that they are all now following, but to understand that they must adopt others of a different character. In my opinion, indeed, no man can be an orator possessed of every praiseworthy accomplishment, unless he has attained the knowledge of everything important, and of all liberal arts. For his language must be ornate and copious from knowledge, since unless there be beneath the surface matter understood and felt by the speaker, oratory becomes an empty and almost pure-owl flow of words. I am then of opinion, said Crassus, that nature and genius in the first place contribute most aid to speaking, and that to those writers on the art to whom Antonius just now alluded, it was not skill and method in speaking, but natural talent that was wanting. For there ought to be certain lively powers in the mind and understanding, which may be acute to invent, fertile to explain and adorn, and strong and retentive to remember. And if any one imagines that these powers may be acquired by art, which is false, for it is very well if they can be animated and excited by art, but they certainly cannot by art being grafted or instilled, since they are all the gifts of nature. What will he say of those qualities which are certainly born with the man himself, viability of tongue, tone of voice, strength of lungs, and a peculiar confirmation and aspect of the whole countenance and body? I do not say that art cannot improve in these particulars, for I am not ignorant that what is good may be made better by education, and what is not very good may be in some degree polished and amended. But there are some persons so hesitating in their speech, so inharmonious in their tone of voice, or so unwieldy and rude in the air and movements of their bodies, that whatever power they possess, either from genius or art, they can never be reckoned in the number of accomplished speakers. While there are others so happily qualified in these respects, so eminently adorned with the gifts of nature, that they seem not to have been born like other men, but molded by some divinity. It is indeed a great task and enterprise for a person to undertake and profess, that while everyone else is silent, he alone must be heard, on the most important subjects, and in a large assembly of men, for there is scarcely any one present who is not sharper and quicker to discover defects in the speaker than merits, and thus whatever offends the hearer effaces the recollection of what is worthy of praise. I do not make these observations for the purpose of altogether deterring young men from the study of oratory, even if they be deficient in some natural endowments. For who does not perceive that to see Calius, my contemporary, a new man, the mere mediocrity in speaking which he was enabled to attain was a great honor? Who does not know that Q. Various, your equal in age, a clumsy uncouth man, has obtained his great popularity by the cultivation of such faculties as he has? But as our inquiry regards the complete orator, we must imagine in our discussion an orator from whom every kind of fault is abstracted, and who is adorned with every kind of merit, for if the multitude of suits, if the variety of causes, if the rabble and barbarism of the forum afford room for even the most wretched speakers, we must not, for that reason, take our eyes from the object of our inquiry. In those arts in which it is not indispensable usefulness that is sought, but liberal amusement for the mind, how nicely, how almost fastidiously do we judge, for there are no suits or controversies which can force men, though they may tolerate indifferent orators in the forum, to endure also bad actors upon the stage. The orator therefore must take the most studious precaution not merely to satisfy those whom he necessarily must satisfy, but to seem worthy of admiration to those who are at liberty to judge disinterestedly. If you would know what I myself think, I will express to you, my intimate friends, what I have hitherto never mentioned, and thought that I never should mention. To me, those who speak best, and speak with the utmost ease and grace, appear, if they do not commence their speeches with some timidity, and show some confusion in the exhortium, to have almost lost the sense of shame, though it is impossible that such should not be the case. For the better qualified a man is to speak, the more he fears the difficulties of speaking, the uncertain success of a speech, and the expectation of the audience. But he who can produce and deliver nothing worthy of his subject, nothing worthy of the name of an orator, nothing worthy the attention of his audience, seems to me, though he be ever so confused while he is speaking, to be downright shameless. For we ought to avoid a character for shamelessness, not by testifying shame, but by not doing that which does not become us. But the speaker who has no shame, as I see to be the case with many, I regard as deserving not only of a rebuke, but of personal castigation. Indeed, what I often observe in you, I very frequently experience in myself, that I turn pale in the outset of my speech, and feel a tremor through my whole thoughts, as it were, and limbs. When I was a young man, I was on one occasion so timid in commencing an accusation, that I owed to Q. Maximus the greatest of obligations for immediately dismissing the assembly, as soon as he saw me absolutely disheartened and incapacitated through fear. Here they all signify dissent, looked significantly at one another, and began to talk together, for there was a wonderful modesty in crasses, which, however, was not only no disadvantage to his oratory, but even an assistance to it, by giving it the recommendation of probity. End of Section 21. Recording by Colleen McMahon. Section 22 of Library of the World's Best Literature, Ancient and Modern, Volume 9. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Colleen McMahon. Library of the World's Best Literature, Ancient and Modern, Volume 9. Section 22. Selected Epistles by Cicero. Cicero to Tyro. The following epistles are taken by permission from Jeans' Letters of Cicero. This letter gives a vivid glimpse of Cicero's tenderness to his slaves and freedmen. Tyro was probably the first editor of his former master's letters. Egypta arrived here on the 12th of April. Although he reported that you were now quite rid of your fever and going on very well, he nevertheless caused me some anxiety by his report that you were not able to write to me, the more so because Hermia, who ought to have been here on the same day, has not yet come. I am more anxious than you can believe about your health. Only free me from this anxiety and I will free you from all duties. I would write you more if I thought you could now read more with pleasure. Use all the talents you possess of which I have no small opinion to keep yourself safe for my sake as well as your own. Again and again I repeat. Take every precaution about your health. Goodbye. P.S. Hermia is just calm. I have your note with its poor, weak handwriting. No wonder, too, after so severe an illness. I sent out Egypta to stay with you because he is not a bad companion and appeared to me to be fond of you and with him a cook for you to make use of his services. Goodbye. Cicero to Atticus. The family affection of Cicero might be illustrated by many such letters as the following. It being now eleven days since I left you, I am scrolling this little bit of a note just as I am leaving my country house before it is light. I think of being at my place at Eignia today and Tusculum tomorrow, only one day there so that I shall come up all right to time on the twenty-eighth and oh if I could but run on at once to embrace my tolia and give Atticus a kiss. Talking of this, by the by, do please write and let me know while I am stopping at Tusculum what her prattle is like or if she is away in the country what her letters to you are about. Meanwhile, either send or give her my love and pilia too and even though we shall meet immediately, yet will you write to me anything you can find to say? P.S. I was just fastening up this letter, but your courier has arrived here after a long night journey with your letter. I was very sorry, you may be sure, to find on reading it that Atticus feverish. Everything else that I was waiting for, I now know from your note. But when you tell me that to have a little fire in the morning sent Leville a lard, I retort Ile sent plus for one's poor old memory to begin to totter, because it was the twenty-ninth I had promised Axius, the thirtieth to you, and the day of my arrival the thirty-first to Quintus. So take that for yourself, you shall have no news. Then what on earth is the good of writing? And what good is it when we are together and chatter whatever comes to our tongues? Surely there is something in causury after all. Even if there is nothing under it, there is always at least the delicious feeling that we are talking with one another. So Pickius consoles Cicero after his daughter Tolia's death. For some time after I'd received the information of the death of your daughter Tolia, you may be sure that I bore it sadly and heavily, as much indeed as was right for me. I felt that I shared that terrible loss with you, and that had I but been where you are, you on your part would not have found me neglectful, and I on mine should not have failed to come to you and tell you myself how deeply grieved I am. And though it is true that consolations of this nature are painful and distressing, because those dear friends and relations upon whom the task naturally devolves are themselves afflicted with a similar burden, and incapable even of attempting it without many tears, so that one would rather suppose them in need of the consolations of others for themselves than capable of doing this kind office to others. Yet nevertheless I have decided to write to you briefly such reflections as have occurred to me on the present occasion. Not that I imagine them to be ignored by you, but because it is possible that you may be hindered by your sorrow from seeing them as clearly as usual. What reason is there why you should allow the private grief which has befallen you to distress you so terribly? Recollect how fortune has hitherto dealt with us, how we have been bereft of all that ought to be no less dear to men than their own children, of country, position, rank, and every honorable office. If one more burden has now been laid upon you, could any addition be made to your pain? Or is there any heart that having been trained in the school of such events ought not now to be steeled by use against emotion and think everything after them to be comparatively light? Or is it for her sake, I suppose, that you are grieving? How many times must you have arrived at the same conclusion as that into which I too have frequently fallen? That in these days theirs is not the hardest lot who are permitted painlessly to exchange their life for the grave. Now what was there at the present time that could attach her very strongly to life? What hope? What fruition? What consolation for the soul? The prospect of a wedded life with the husband chosen from our young men of rank? Truly one would think it was only in your power to choose a son-in-law of a position suitable to your rank out of our young men, one to whose keeping you would feel you could safely entrust the happiness of a child. Or that of being a joyful mother of children, who would be happy in seeing them succeeding in life, able by their own exertions to maintain in its integrity all that was bequeathed to them by their father, intending gradually to rise to all the highest offices of the state, and to use that liberty to which they were born for the good of their country and the service of their friends? Is there any one of these things that has not been taken away before it was given? But surely it is hard to give up one's children. It is hard, but this is harder still, that they should bear and suffer what we are doing. A circumstance which was such as to afford me no light consolation I cannot but mention to you, in the hope that it may be allowed to contribute equally towards mitigating your grief. As I was returning from Asia, when sailing from Ejina in the direction of Megara, I began to look around me at the various places by which I was surrounded. Behind me was Ejina, in front Megara, on the right the Piraeus, on the left Corinth, all of them towns that in former days were most magnificent, but are now lying prostrate and in ruins before one's eyes. On me I began to reflect to myself, we poor feeble mortals who can claim but a short life in comparison. Complain as though a wrong was done us if one of our number dies in the course of nature, or as met his death by violence, and here in one spot are lying stretched out before me the corpses of so many cities. Servius, be master of yourself, and remember that it is the lot of men to which you have been born. Believe me, I found myself in no small degree strengthened by these reflections. Let me advise you, too, if you think good, to keep this reflection before your eyes. How lately at one and the same time have many of our most illustrious men fallen? How grave an encroachment has been made on the rights of the sovereign people of Rome? Every province in the world has been convulsed with the shock. If the frail life of a tender woman has gone, too, who being born to the common lot of men must needs have died in a few short years, even if the time had not come for her now, are you thus utterly strickened down? Do you then also recall your feelings and your thoughts from dwelling on this subject, and as besiege your character, rethink yourself rather of this, that she has lived as long as life was of value to her, that she has passed away only together with her country's freedom, that she lived to see her father elected praetor, consul, augur, that she had been the wife of young men of the first rank, that after enjoying well-nigh every blessing that life can offer, she left it only when the Republic itself was falling. The account is closed, and what have you, what has she, to charge of injustice against fate? In a word, forget not that you are Cicero, that you are he who was always want to guide others and give them good advice, and be not like those quack physicians, who when others are sick boast that they hold the key of the knowledge of medicine, to heal themselves or never able, but rather minister to yourself, with your own hand, the remedies which you are in the habit of prescribing for others, and put them plainly before your own soul. There is no pain so great, but the lapse of time will lessen and assuage it. It is not like yourself to wait until this time comes, instead of stepping forward by your philosophy to anticipate that result. And if even those who are low in the grave have any consciousness at all, such was her love for you and her tenderness for all around her, that surely she does not wish to see this in you. Make this a tribute then to her who is dead, to all your friends and relations who are mourning in your grief, and make it to your country also, that if in anything the need should arise, she may be able to trust to your energy and guidance. Finally, since such is the condition we have come to, that even this consideration must perforce be obeyed. Do not let your conduct induce anyone to believe that it is not so much your daughter as the circumstances of the Republic and the victory of others which you are deploring. I shrink from writing to you a greater length upon this subject, lest I should seem to be doubtful of your own good sense. Allow me therefore to put before you one more consideration, and then I will bring my letter to a close. We have seen you not once, but many times bearing prosperity most gracefully, and gaining yourself great reputation thereby. Let us see at last that you are capable also of bearing adversity equally well, and that it is not in your eyes a heavier burden than it ought to seem. Lest we should think that of all the virtues, this is the only one in which you are wanting. As for myself, when I find you are more composed in mind, I will send you information about all that is being done in these parts, and the state in which the province finds itself at present. Farewell. Cicero's reply to Sopichius. Yes, my dear Servius, I could indeed wish you had been with me, as you say, at the time of my terrible trial. How much it was in your power to help me if you had been here, by sympathizing with, and I may almost say sharing equally in my grief, I readily perceive from the fact that after reading your letter I now feel myself considerably more composed, for not only was all that you wrote just what is best calculated to soothe affliction, but you yourself in comforting me showed that you too had no little pain at heart. Your son Servius, however, has made it clear by every kindly attention which such an occasion would permit of, both how great his respect was for myself, and also how much pleasure his kind feeling for me was likely to give you, and you may be sure that while such attentions from him have often been more pleasant to me, they have never made me more grateful. It is not, however, only your arguments and your equal share, I may almost call it, in this affliction which comforts me, but also your authority, because I hold it shame in me not to be bearing my trouble in a way that you, a man endowed with such wisdom, think it ought to be born. But at times I do feel broken down, and I scarcely make any struggle against my grief, because those consolations fail me, which under similar calamities were never wanting to any of those other people whom I put before myself as models for imitation. Both Fabius Maximus, for example, when he lost a son who had held the consulship, the hero of many a famous exploit, and Lucius Paulus, from whom two were taken in one week, and your own kinsmen Galus, and Marcus Cato, who was deprived of a son of the rarest talents and the rarest virtue. All these lived in times when their individual affliction was capable of finding a solace in the distinctions they used to earn from their country. For me, however, after being stripped of all those distinctions, which you yourself recall to me, and which I had won for myself by unparalleled exertions, only that one solace remained which has been torn away. My thoughts were not diverted by work for my friends, or by the administration of affairs of state. There was no pleasure in pleading in the courts. I could not bear the very sight of the Senate House. I felt, as was indeed too true, that I had lost all the harvest of both my industry and my success. But whenever I wanted to recollect that all this was shared with you and other friends I could name, and whenever I was breaking myself in and forcing my spirit to bear these things with patience, I always had a refuge to go to where I might find peace, and in whose words of comfort and sweet society I could rid me of all my pains and griefs. Whereas now, under this terrible blow, even those old wounds which seem to have healed up are bleeding afresh. For it is impossible for me now to find such a refuge from my sorrows at home in the business of the state, as in those days I did in that consolation of home, which was always in store whenever I came away sad from thoughts of state to seek for peace in her happiness. And so I stay away both from home and from public life, because home now is no more able to make up for the sorrow I feel when I think of our country than our country is for my sorrow at home. I am therefore looking forward all the more eagerly to your coming, and long to see you as early as that may possibly be. No greater alleviation can be offered me than a meeting between us for friendly intercourse and conversation. I hope, however, that your return is to take place as I hear it is very shortly. As for myself, while there are abundant reasons for wanting to see you as soon as possible, my principle one is in order that we may discuss together beforehand the best method of conduct for the present circumstances, which must entirely be adapted to the wishes of one man only, a man nevertheless who is far-seeing and generous, and also, as I think I have thoroughly ascertained, to me not at all ill-disposed and to you extremely friendly. But admitting this, it is still a matter for much deliberation. What is the line? I do not say of action but of keeping quiet that we ought by his good leave and favor to adopt. Farewell. A Homesick Exile I send this with love, my dearest Terentia, hoping that you and my little Tulia and my Marcus are all well. From the letters of several people and the talk of everybody, I hear that your courage and endurance are simply wonderful and that no troubles of body or mind can exhaust your energy. How unhappy I am to think that with all your courage and devotion, your virtues and gentleness, you should have fallen into such misfortunes for me. And my sweet Tulia, too, that she who is once so proud of her father should have to undergo such troubles owing to him. And what shall I say about my boy Marcus, who ever since his faculties of perception awoke has felt the sharpest pangs of sorrow and misery? Now could I but think, as you tell me, that all this comes in the natural course of things I could bear it a little easier. But it has been brought about entirely by my own fault, for thinking myself loved by those who were jealous of me and turning from those who wanted to win me. I have thanked to the people you wanted me to and mentioned that my information came from you. As to the block of houses which you tell me you mean to sell, why good heavens, my dear Terencia, what is to be done? Oh, what troubles I have to bear. And if misfortune continues to persecute us, what will become of our poor boy? I cannot continue to write. My tears are too much for me. Nor would I wish to betray you into the same emotion. All I can say is that if our friends act up to their bound in duty, we shall not want for money. If they do not, you will not be able to succeed only with your own. Let our unhappy fortunes, I entreat you, be a warning to us not to ruin our boy who has ruined enough already. If he only has something to save him from absolute want, a fair share of talent and a fair share of luck will be all that is necessary to win anything else. Do not neglect your health and send me messengers with letters to let me know what goes on and how you yourselves are faring. My suspense in any case cannot now belong. Give my love to my little Tolia and my Marcus. Dirachium, November 26th. P.S. I have moved to Dirachium because it is not only a free city, but very much in my interest and quite near to Italy. But if the bustle of the place proves an annoyance, I shall be take myself elsewhere and give you notice. Cicero's Vassalation in the Civil War Being in extreme agitation about these great and terrible events and having no means of discussing matters with you in person, I want at any rate to avail myself of your judgment. Now, the question about which I am in doubt is simply this. If Pompeis should fly from Italy, which I suspect he will do, how do you think I ought to act? To make it easier for you to advise me, I will briefly set forth the arguments that occur to me on both sides of the question. The obligations that Pompeis laid me under in the matter of my restoration, my own intimacy with him, and also my patriotism, incline me to think that I ought to make my decision as his decision, or in other words, my fortunes as his fortunes. There is this reason also. If I stay behind and desert my post among that band of true and illustrious patriots, I must perforce fall completely under the yoke of one man. Now, although he frequently takes occasion to show himself friendly to me, indeed, as you all know, anticipating this storm that is now hanging over our heads, I took good care that he should be so long ago. Still, I have to consider two different questions. First, how far can I trust him? And secondly, assuming it to be absolutely certain that he is friendly disposed to me, would it show the brave man or the honest citizen to remain in a city where one has filled the highest offices of peace and war, achieved immortal deeds, and been crowned with the honors of her most dignified priesthood, only to become an empty name and undergo some risk, attended also very likely with considerable disgrace, should Pompeis ever again grasp the helm? So much for this side. See now what may be said on the other. Pompeis has in our cause done nothing wisely, nothing strongly, nothing I may add that has not been contrary to my opinion and advice. I pass over those old complaints, that it was he who himself nourished this enemy of the Republic, gave him his honors, put the sword into his hand, that it was he who advised him to force laws through by violence, trampling on the warnings of religion, that it was he who made the addition of Transalpine Gaul, he who is his son-in-law, he who is augur allowed the adoption of Clodius, who showed more activity in recalling me than in preventing my exile, who took it on him to extend Caesar's term of government, who supported all his proceedings while he was away, that he too, even in his third consulship, after he had begun to pose as a defender of the Constitution, actually exerted himself to get the ten tribunes to propose that absence should not invalidate the election. Nay more, he expressly sanctioned this by one of his own acts, and opposed the consul, Marcus Marcellus, who proposed that the tenure of the Gallic provinces should come to an end on the 1st of March. But anyhow, to pass over all this, what could be more discreditable, what more blundering than this evacuation of the city, or I had better say, this ignominious flight? What terms ought not to have been accepted sooner than abandoned our country? The terms were bad? That I allow, but is anything worse than this? But he will win back the Constitution? When? What preparations have been made to warrant such a hope? Have we not lost all Pecanum? Have we not left open the road to the capital? Have we not abandoned the whole of our treasure, public and private, to the fell? In a word, there is no common cause, no strength, no center to draw such people together as might yet care to show fight for the Republic. Apulia has been chosen, the most thinly populated part of Italy, and the most remote from the line of movement of this war. It would seem that in despair they were looking for flight, with some easy access to the coast. I took the charge of Capua much against my will, not that I would evade that duty, but in a cause which evoked no sympathy from any class as a whole, nor any openly even from individuals. There was some, of course, among the good citizens, but as languid as usual. And where I saw for myself that the mass of the people, and all the lowest stratum, were more and more inclined to the other side, many even longing for a revolution, I told him to his face I would undertake to do nothing without forces and without money. Consequently I have had no responsibility at all, because I saw from the very first that nothing was really intended for flight. Say that I now follow this, then wither. Not with him, I had already set out to join him when I found that Caesar was in those parts, so that I could not safely reach Lucaria. I must sail by the Western Sea in the depth of winter, not knowing where to steer for. And again, what about being with my brother, or leaving him and taking my son? How, then, must I act, since either alternative will involve the greatest difficulty, the greatest mental anxiety? And then, too, what a raid he will make on me and my fortunes when I am out of the way, fiercer than on other people, because he will think, perhaps, that in outrages on me he holds a means of popularity. Again, these fetters remember I mean these laurels on my attendance staves, how inconvenient it is to take them out of Italy, what place indeed will be safe for me, supposing I now find the sea calm enough before I have actually joined him, though where that will be and how to get there I have no notion. On the other hand, say that I stop where I am and find some place on this side of the water, then my conduct will precisely resemble that of Philippus, or Luchius Flacus, or Quintus Musius, under Sina's reign of terror, and however this decision ended for the last name, yet still he at any rate used to say that he saw what really did happen would occur, but that it was his deliberate choice in preference to marching sword in hand against the homes of the very city that gave him birth. With Urcibulus it was otherwise, and perhaps better, but still there is a sound basis for the policy and sentiments of Musius, as there is also for this which Philippus did, to wait for your opportunity when you must, just as much as not lose your opportunity when it is given. But even in this case, those staves again of my attendance still involve some awkwardness. For say that his feelings are friendly to me, I am not sure that this is so, but let us assume it, then he will offer me a triumph. I fear that to decline may be perilous, to accept an offense with all good citizens. I, you exclaim, what a difficult, what an insoluble problem, yet the solution must be found for what can one do. Unless you should have formed the idea that I am rather inclined towards staying because I have argued more on that side of the question, it is quite possible, as is so frequently the case in debates, that one side has more words, the other more worth. Therefore, I should be glad if when you give me your opinion, you would look upon me as making up my mind quite dispassionately on a most important question. I have a ship both at Caita and at Brindisium. But lo and behold, while I am writing you these very lines by night in my house at Calus, in come the carriers, and here is a letter to say that Caesar is before Corphinium, and that in Corphinium is Demetius, with an army resolute and even eager for battle. I do not think our chief will go so far as to be guilty of abandoning Demetius, though it is true he had already sent Scipio on before two cohorts to Brindisium and written a dispatch to the consuls ordering that the legion enrolled by Faustus should go under the command of one consul to Sicily. But it is a scandal that Demetius should be left to his fate when he is imploring him for help. There is some hope, not in my opinion a very good one, but strong in these parts, that there has been a battle in the Pyrenees between Ephrainius and Trebonius, that Trebonius has been beaten off, that your friend Fabius also has come over to us with all his troops, and to crown it all that Ephrainius is advancing with a strong force. If this be so, we shall perhaps make a stand in Italy. As for me, since Caesar's route is uncertain, he is expected about equally by way of Capua and of Lucheria. I have sent Lepte to Pompeius with a letter, while I myself, for fear of falling in with him anywhere, have started again for Formae. I thought it best to let you know this, and I'm writing with more composure than I've written of late, not inserting any opinion of my own, but trying to elicit yours. End of section 22. Recording by Colleen McMahon. Section 23 of Library of the World's Best Literature, Ancient and Modern, Volume 9. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Library of the World's Best Literature, Ancient and Modern, Volume 9. Section 23. Cicero's Correspondence. It seems desirable to add a few letters, by other hands, than Cicero's, to indicate the manifold side light thrown on the inner history of this intensely interesting period. Sulpicius' famous attempt at his consolation has already been given above. Two brief letters by Caesar will illustrate the dictator's marvelous ability to comprehend and control other men. Pompeius' graph rudeness forms a contrast, which is hardly accidental on the editor's part. Caelius' fit is biting as ever. And lastly, Massius' protest against being persecuted merely because he, who loved Caesar, openly mourned for his dead friend, has an unconscious tone of simple heroism unequaled in the entire correspondence. W. C. Lee. Caesar to Cicero. You know me too well not to keep up your character as an augur by divining that nothing is more entirely alien from my nature than cruelty. I will add that while my decision is in itself a great source of pleasure to me, to find my conduct approved by you is a triumph of gratification. Nor does the fact at all disturb me that those people whom I have set at liberty are reported to have gone their ways only to renew the attack upon me, because there is nothing I wish more than that I may ever be as true to my own character as they do theirs. May I hope that you will be near town when I am there so that I may as usual avail myself in everything of your advice and means of assistance. Let me assure you that I am charmed beyond everything with your relation Dolabella, to whom I shall acknowledge myself indeed indebted for this obligation. For his kindliness is so great and his feeling and affection for me are such that he cannot possibly do otherwise. Caesar to Cicero Though I had fully made up my mind that you would do nothing rashly, nothing imprudently, still I was so far impressed by the rumors in some quarters as to think it my duty to write to you and ask it as a favor due to our mutual regard that you will not take any step now that the scale is so decisively turned which you would not have thought it necessary to take even though the balance still stood firm. For it will really be both a heavier blow to our friendship and a step on your part still less judicious for yourself if you are to be thought, not even to have both the need to success for things seem to have fallen out as entirely favorably for us as disastrously for them nor yet to have been drawn by attachment to a particular cause for that has undergone no change since you decided to remain aloof from their counsels but to have passed a stern judgment on some act of mine than which from you no more painful thing could befall me and I claim the right of our friendship to entreat that you will not take this course. Finally, what more suitable part is there for a good peace-loving man and a good citizen than to keep aloof from civil dissensions? There were not a few who admired this course but could not adopt it by reason of its danger. You, after having duly weighed both the conclusions of friendship and the unmistakable evidence of my whole life, will find that there is no safer nor more honorable course than to keep entirely aloof from the struggle. Pompeii to Cicero Today, the 10th of February, Fabius Vergilianus has joined me. From him I learn that Domitius with his 11 cohorts and 14 cohorts that Vybulius had brought up is on his way to me. His intention was to start from Corphenium on the 13th. He rules to follow soon after his five of the cohorts. I decide that you are to come to us at Lucchiria. Here I think you will be most in safety. Caelius in Rome to Cicero in Chiliccia The capture of his Parthian majesty and the storming of Soloikeia itself had not been enough to compensate for missing the sight of our doings here. Your eyes would never have ached again if you had only seen the face of Domitius when he was not elected. The election was important and it was quite clear that party feeling determined the side which people took. Only a few could be brought to acknowledge the claims of friendship. Consequently Domitius is so furious with me that he scarcely hates any of his most intimate friends as much as he does me. And all the more because he thinks that it was to do him wrong that his hopes of being in the College of Augurs are snatched away and that I am responsible for it. He is savage now to see everybody so delighted in his mortification and myself more active than anybody with one exception on behalf on Antonius. As to political prospects I have often mentioned to you that I do not see any chance of peace lasting a year and the nearer that struggle which must infallibly take place is drawing to us. The more manifest does its danger become? The point at issue about which our lords and masters are going to fight is this. Pompeius has absolutely determined not to allow Caesar to be elected consul on any terms except a previous resignation of his army and his government while Caesar is convinced that he must inevitably fall if he separates himself from his army. He offers however this compromise that they should both of them resign their armies. So you see their great affection for one another and their much abused alliance has not even dwindled down into suppressed jealousy but has broken out into open war. Nor can I discover what is the wisest course to take in my own interests. A question which I make no doubt will give much trouble to you also. For while I have both interest and connections among those who are on one side. On the other two it is the cause and not the men themselves I dislike. You are not I feel sure blind to the fact that where parties are divided within a country we are bound so long as the struggle is carried on with none but constitutional weapons to support the more honorable cause. But when we come to blows and to open war then the safer one and to count that cause the better which is the less likely to be dangerous. In the present division of feeling I see that Pompeius will have the senate and all judicially minded people on his side. Those who have everything to dread and little to hope for will flock to Caesar. The army is not to be compared. On the whole we have plenty of time for balancing the strength of parties and making our decision. I had all but forgotten my principle reason for writing. Have you heard of the wonderful doings of our senzel Apius? How he is rigorously inquiring into our statues and pictures our amount of land and our depths. He has persuaded himself that his censorship is a moral soap or toilet powder. He is wrong. I take it. For while he only wants to wash off the dirt he is really laying bare his veins and his flesh. Heaven and earth you must run and come to laugh at the things here. Apius questioning about pictures and statues you must make haste I assure you. Our friend Curio is sought to have acted wisely in giving way about the pay of Pompeius troops. If I must sum up my opinion as you ask about what will happen unless one or other of them can sense to go and fight the Parthians. I see a great split in bending which will be settled by the sword and by force. Each is well inclined for this and well equipped. If it could only be without danger to yourself you would find this a great and most attractive drama which fortune is rehearsing. Matthews to Cicero I received great pleasure from your letter because I found that your opinion of me was what I had hoped and wished it to be nor that I was in any doubt about it but for the very reason that I valued it so highly I was most anxious that it should remain unimpaired. Conscious however that I had done nothing which would give offense to the feelings of any good citizen. I was naturally the less inclined to believe that you adorned as you are with so many excellences of the most admirable kind could have allowed yourself to be convinced of anything on mere idle report particularly seeing that you were a friend for whom my spontaneous attachment had been and still was unbroken. And knowing now that it has been as I hoped I will answer those attacks which you have often opposed on my behalf as was fairly to be expected from your well-known generosity and the friendship existing between us. For I am well aware of all they have been heaping on me since Caesar's death. They make it a reproach against me that I go heavily for the loss of a friend and think it cruel that one whom I loved should have fallen because say they country must be put before friends as though they have hitherto been successful in proving that his death really was the gain of the Commonwealth. But I will not enter any subtle plea I admit that I have not attained to your higher grades of philosophy for I have neither been a partisan of Caesar in our civil dissensions though I did not abandon my friend even when his action was a stumbling block to me. Nor did I ever give my approval to the Civil War or even to the actual ground of quarrel of which indeed I earnestly desired that the first spark should be trampled out and so in the triumph of a personal friend I was never ensnared by the charms either of place or of money prizes which have been recklessly abused by the rest though they had less influence with him that I had. I may even say that my own private property was impaired by that act of Caesar thanks to which many of those who are rejoicing at Caesar's death continued to live in their own country. That our defeated fellow countrymen should be spared was as much an object to me as my own safety. Is it possible then for me who wanted all to be left uninjured not to feel indignation that he by whom this was secured is dead? Above all, when the very same men were the cause at once of his own popularity and his untimely end you shall smart then say they since you dare to disapprove of our deed. What unheard of insolence? One man they may boast of a deed which another is not even allowed to lament without punishment. Why, even slaves have always been free of this to feel their fears, their joys, their sorrows as their own and not at anybody's else's dictation. And these are the very things which now at least according to what your liberators have always in their mouth they are trying to rest from us by terrorism but they try in vain. There is no danger which has terrors enough ever to make me desert the side of gratitude or humanity for never have I thought that death in a good cause is to be shunned often indeed that it deserves to be courted. But why are they inclined to be enraged with me if my wishes are simply that they may come to regret their deed desiring as I do that Caesar's death may be felt to be untimely by us all. It is my duty as a citizen to desire the preservation of the constitution. Well, unless both my life in the past and all my hopes for the future prove without any words of mine that I do earnestly desire this I make no demand to prove it by my professions. To you therefore I make a specially earnest appeal to let facts come before assertions and to take my word for it that if you feel that honesty is the best policy it is impossible I should have any association with lawless villains or can you believe that the principles I pursued in the days of my youth when even error could pass with some excuse I shall renounce now that I am going down the hill and with my own hands unravel all the web of my life that I will not do nor yet will I commit any act that could give offence beyond the fact that I do lament the sad fall of one who was to me the dearest friend and the most illustrious of men. But where I otherwise disposed I would never deny what I was doing lest it should be thought I was at once shameless in doing wrong and false and covertly in dissembling it. But then I undertook the management of those games which Caesar's heir celebrated for Caesar's victory. Well, this is a matter which belongs to one's private obligations not to any political arrangement. It was however in the first place a tribute of respect which I was called upon to pay to the memory and the eminent position of a man whom I dearly loved even though he was dead and also one that I could not refuse at the request of a young man so thoroughly promising and so worthy in every way of Caesar as he is. Again I have frequently paid visits of compliment to the consul Antonius and you will find that the very men who think me but a lukewarm patriot are constantly going to his house in crowds actually for the purpose of soliciting or carrying away some favor. But what a monstrous claim it is that while Caesar never laid any such embargo as this to prevent me from associating freely with anybody I pleased even if there were people whom he personally did not like these men who have robbed me of my friend should attempt by malicious insinuations to prevent my showing a kindness to whomsoever I will. I have however no fear that the moderation of my life will hear after prove an insufficient defense against false insinuations and that even those who do not love me because of my loyalty to Caesar would not rather have their own friend imitate me than themselves. Such a life as remains to me at least if I succeed in what I desire I shall spend in quiet atroads but if I find that some chance has put a stop to this I shall simply live at Rome as one who is always desires that right should be done. I am deeply grateful to our good friend Tribatius for having thus disclosed to me your sincere and friendly feeling and given me even an additional reason for honoring and paying respect to one whom it has always been a pleasure to me to regard as a friend. Farewell heartily and let me have your esteem. End of section 23. Section 24 of Library of the World's Best Literature Ancient and Modern, Volume 9. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain For more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org Library of the World's Best Literature Ancient and Modern, Volume 9 Section 24 The Dream of Scipio by Cicero From The Dialogue The Republic Translation of Professor T. R. Lonesbury When I went into Africa with the console Manius Manilius holding the rank as you are aware of military tribune of the fourth legion nothing lay nearer to my heart than to meet Masinissa a king, who for good reasons was upon the most friendly terms with our family. When I had come to him the old man embraced me with tears and then looking up to heaven said I give thanks to thee, O supremest soul and to you, ye inhabitants of heaven that before I depart this life I behold in my dominions and under this roof Publius Cornelius Scipio by whose very name I am revived so never passes away from my mind the memory of that best and most invincible hero. Thereupon I made inquiries of him as to the state of his own kingdom and he of me as to our republic and with many words uttered on both sides we spend the whole of that day. Moreover, after partaking of a repast prepared with royal magnificence we prolonged the conversation late into the night. The old man would speak of nothing but africanos and remembered not only all his deeds but likewise his sayings. After we parted to go to bed at sounder's sleep than usual fell upon me partly on account of weariness occasioned by the journey and partly because I had stayed up to a late hour. Then africanos appeared to me I think in consequence of what we had been talking about for it often happens that our thoughts and speeches bring about in sleep something of that illusion of which Enneus writes in regard to himself in Homer of which poet he was very often accustomed to think and speak while awake. Africanos showed himself to me in that form which was better known to me from his ancestral image than from my recollection of his person. As soon as I recognized him I was seized with a fit of terror but he thereupon said Be of good courage O Scipio lay aside fear and commit to memory these things which I am about to say. Do you see that state which compelled by me to submit to the Roman people renews its former wars and cannot endure to remain at peace? At these words from a certain lustrous and bright place very high and full of stars he pointed out to me Carthage to fight against that city though no comest in a rank but little above that of a private soldier but in two years from this time though shalt as consul utterly overthrow it and in consequence shalt gain by their own exertions that very surname of africanos which up to this time though has inherited from us but when though shalt have destroyed Carthage shalt have had the honor of a triumph and shalt have been censored though shalt during their absence be chosen consul for a second time shalt put an end to a great war and lay nomancia in ruins but when though shalt be carried in day triumphal chariot to the capital though will find the republic disturbed by the designs of my grandson the anoscipio it will be necessary that though exhibit the purity and greatness of their heart their soul and their judgment but I see at that time a double way disclose itself as if the fates were undecided for when their life shalt have completed eight times seven revolutions of the sun and these two numbers each one of which is looked upon as perfect the one for one reason the other for another shalt have accomplished for thee by their natural revolution the fatal product to thee alone and to thy name the whole state shalt turn upon thee the senate upon thee all good men upon thee the allies upon thee the latins will fasten their eyes though will be the one upon whom the safety of the state shalt rest and in short as dictator it will be incumbent on thee to establish and regulate the republic if though art successful in escaping the impious hands of kinsmen at this point Leilius uttered an exclamation of sorrow and the rest groaned more deeply but Scipio slightly smiling said keep silence I beg of you do not awake me from my dream and hear the rest of his words but oh africanus that though may be the more zealous in the defense of the republic know this for all who have preserved who have suffered who have aggrandized their country there is in heaven a certain fixed place where they enjoy an eternal life of blessedness for to that highest god who governs the whole world there's nothing which can be done on earth more dear than those combinations of men and unions made under the sanction of law which are called states the rulers and preservers of them depart from this place and to it they return I had been filled with terror not so much at the fear of death as at the prospect of treachery on the part of those akin to me nevertheless at this point I had the courage to ask whether my father Paulus was living and others whom we thought to be annihilated certainly said he they alone live who have been set free from the fetters of the body as if from prison for that which you call your life is nothing but death nay though mayest even behold thy father Paulus coming towards thee no sooner had I seen him than I burst into violent fit of tears but he there upon embracing and kissing me forbade my weeping I as soon as I had checked my tears and was able again to speak said to him tell me a besieged thee our best and most sacred father since this is life as I hear africanus say why do I tarry upon earth why shall I not hasten to go to you not so said he not until that god whose temple is all this which though seeest shall have freed thee from the bonds of the body can any entrance lie open to thee here for men are brought into the world with this design that they may protect and preserve that globe which though seeest in the middle of this temple and which is called earth to them a soul is given from these everlasting fires which you name constellations and stars which in the form of globes and spheres run with incredible rapidity the rounds of their orbits under the impulse of divine intelligences wherefore by thee, O Publius and by all pious men the soul must be kept in the guardianship of the body nor without the command of him by whom it is given to you can there be any departure from this mortal life lest you seem to have shunned the discharge of that duty as men which has been assigned to you by God but of Scipio like as thy grandfather who stands here like as I who gave thee life cherish the sense of justice and loyal affection which latter in however great measure due to thy parents and kinsmen is most all due to thy country such a life is the way to heaven and to that congregation of those who have ended their days on earth and freed from the body dwell in that place which you see that place which as you have learned from the Greeks you are in the habit of calling the Milky Way this was a circle shining among the celestial fires with the most brilliant whiteness as I looked from it all other things seemed magnificent and wonderful moreover there were such stars as we have never seen from this point of space and all of such magnitude as we have never even suspected among them that was the least which the farthest from heaven and the nearest to earth shone with a borrowed light but the starry globes far exceeded the size of the earth indeed the earth itself appeared to me so small that I had a feeling of mortification at the sight of our empire which took up what seemed to be but a point of it as I kept my eyes more intently fixed upon this spot africanos said to me how long I beg of thee will thy spirit be chained down to earth? see as though not into what a holy place though has come everything is bound together in nine circles or other spheres of which the farthest is the firmament which embraces the rest is indeed the supreme God himself confining and containing all the others to that highest heaven are fixed those orbits of the stars which eternally revolve below it are seven spheres which move backward with emotion contrary to that of the firmament one of these belongs to that star which on earth they call Saturn then follows that shining orb the source of happiness and health to the human race which is called Jupiter then the red planet bringing terror to the nations to which you give the name of Mars then almost directly under the middle region stands the sun the leader, the chief the governor of the other luminaries the soul of the universe and its regulating principle of a size so vast that it penetrates and fills everything with its own light upon it as if they were an escort follow two spheres the one of Venus the other of Mercury and in the lowest circle revolves the moon illuminated by the rays of the sun below it there is nothing which is not mortal and transitory save the souls which are given to mankind by the gift of the gods above the moon all things are eternal for that ninth sphere which is in the middle is the earth it has no motion it is the lowest in space and all heavy bodies are borne toward it by their natural downward tendency I looked at these lost in wonder as soon as I had recovered myself I said what is the sound so great and so sweet which fills my ears? this he replied is the music which composed of intervals unequal but divided proportionately by rule is caused by the swing and movement of the spheres themselves and by the proper combination of acute tones whose grave creates uniformity manifold and diverse harmonies for movements so mighty cannot be accomplished in silence and it is a law of nature that the farthest sphere on the one side gives forth a base tone the farthest on the other a treble for which reason the revolution of that uppermost arch of the heaven the starry firmament whose motion is more rapid is attended with an acute and high sound while that of the lowest or lunar arc is attended with a very deep and grave sound for the ninth sphere the earth embracing the middle region of the universe stays immovably in one fixed place but those eight globes between two of which have the same essential action produce tones distinguished by intervals to the number of seven which number indeed is the knot of almost all things men of skill by imitating the result on the strings of the liar or by means of the human voice have laid open for themselves a way of return to this place just as other men of lofty souls have done the same by devoting themselves during their earthly life to the study of what is divine but the ears of men surveyed by this harmony have become deaf to it nor is there in you any dollar sense just as at that cataract which is called catadupa where the Nile rushes down headlong from the lofty mountaintops the people who dwell in that neighborhood have lost the sense of hearing consequence of the magnitude of the sound so likewise this harmony produced by the excessively rapid revolution of the whole universe so great that the ears of men are not able to take it in in the same manner as you are not able to look the sun in the eye and your sight is overcome by the power of its rays though I was filled with wonder nevertheless I kept turning my eyes from time to time to the earth I perceive then said africanos that those still continues to contemplate the habitation of the home of man if that seems to thee as small as it really is keep then thy eyes fixed on these heavenly objects look with contempt on those of mortal life for what notoriety that lives in the mouths of men or what glory that is worthy of being sought after are so able to secure though seized that the earth is inhabited in a few small localities and that between those inhabited places spots as it were on the surface vast desert regions lie spread out and that those who inhabit the earth are not only so isolated that no communication can pass among them from one to another but that some dwell in an oblique direction as regards you some in a diagonal and some stand even exactly opposite you from these you are certainly not able to hope for any glory moreover though observest that this same earth is surrounded and as it were girdled by certain zones of which those seized that too the farthest apart and resting at both sides on the very poles of the sky are stiffened with frost and that again the central and largest one is burned up with the heat of the sun two are habitable of these the southern one in which dwell those who make their footprints opposite yours is a foreign world to your race but even this other one which lies to the north which you occupy sea with how small a part of it you come into contact for all the land which is cultivated by you very narrow at the extremities but wider at the sides is only a small island surrounded by that water which on earth you call the Atlantic or the great sea or the ocean but though its name is so high sounding yet though beholdest how small it is from these cultivated and well-known regions can either thy name or the name of any of us surmount and pass this Caucasus which so seist or cross yonder flood of the Ganges who in the farthest remaining regions of the rising and the setting sun or on the confines of the north and the south will hear thy name when these are taken away though assuredly perceivest how immense is the littleness of that space in which your reputation seeks to spread itself abroad moreover even those who speak of us for how long a time will they speak nay even if the generations of men were desires one after the other to hand down to posterity the praises of any one of us heard from their fathers nevertheless on account of the changes in the earth wrought by inundations and conflagration which are sure to recure at certain fixed epochs we are not simply unable to secure for ourselves a glory which lasts forever but are even unable to gain a glory which lasts for a long time moreover of that value is it that the speech of those who are to be born hereafter shall be about thee when nothing has been said of thee by all those who were born before who were neither fewer in number and were unquestionably better men especially when no one is able to live in the memory of those very persons of whom one's name can be heard for the space of one year for men commonly measure the year by the return to its place of the sun alone that is of one star but when all the stars shall have returned to that same point from which they once set out and after a long period of time have brought back the same relative arrangement of the whole heaven that then can justly be called the complete year in it I hardly dare say how many ages of human life are contained for once in the past the sun seemed to disappear from the eyes of men and to be annihilated and the time when the soul of Romulus made its way into this very temple when from the same region of the sky and at the same moment of time the sun shall have again vanished then be sure that all constellations and stars have come back to the position they had in the beginning and that the perfect year is completed of that year know that now not even the twentieth part has passed therefore if they'll give us up the hope of a return to this place in which all things exist for lofty and preeminent souls yet of how much value is that human glory which can hardly endure for even the small part of a single year but if as I was saying though wishes to look on high and to fix their gaze upon this abode of the blessed and this eternal home never gives itself up to the applause of the vulgar nor rests the recompense of thy achievements in the rewards which can be bestowed upon thee by men it is incumbent on thee that virtue herself shall draw thee by her own charm to true glory as for the way in which others talk about thee let them take care of that themselves yet without doubt they will talk but all such renown is limited to the petty provinces of the regions which so seeest nor in the case of anyone is it everlasting for it both dies with the death of men and is buried in oblivion by the forgetfulness of posterity when he had said these things all africanos are replied if the path that leads to the entrance of heaven lies open to those who have rendered great service to their country although in following from my boyhood in thy footsteps and in those of my father I have not failed in sustaining the honor derived from you yet henceforth I shall toil with far more zeal now that so great a reward has been held out before me do thou indeed said he continue to strive and bear this in mind that those I self are not mortal but this body of thine for though art not the one which that form of thine proclaims thee to be but the soul of anyone that alone is he not that external shape which can be pointed out with the finger therefore now thyself to be a god if that is essentially God which lives which feels which remembers which foresees which rules and regulates and moves that body over which it is put in authority as the supreme being governs this universe and as the eternal God moves the world which in a certain point of view is perishable so the incorruptible soul moves the corruptible body for what always moves itself is eternal but that which communicates to anything emotion which it has itself received from another source must necessarily have an end of life when it has an end of motion therefore that alone never ceases to move which moves itself for the reason that it is never deserted by itself this indeed is the well-head this the beginning of motion to all other things that are moved but to a beginning there is no birth for all things are born from the beginning but it itself cannot be born of anything for that would not be a beginning which sprang from some other source and just as it is never begotten so it never dies for a beginning annihilated could neither itself be brought back to life by anything else nor could it create anything else out of itself since it is necessary that all things should come from a beginning so it results that the beginning of motion is in itself because it is self-moved and this can neither be born nor die for if it did the heavens would fall to ruin and all nature would stand still nor could it come into the possession of any power by the original impulse of which it might be put into motion since therefore it is clear that what is self-moved is eternal who can deny that this essential characteristic has been imparted to the soul for everything which is moved by a foreign impulse is without a soul but that which lives is made to go by an inward motion of its own for this is the special nature and power of the soul but if it is the one thing among all which is self-moved then certainly it has had no beginning and is eternal do thou then employ it in the noblest duties but those are the loftiest cares which are concerned with the well-being of our native land the soul that is inspired by these and occupied with them will hasten the quicker into this its real home and habitation so much the more speedily indeed will it do this if while it is shut up in the body it shall pass beyond its limits and by the contemplation of those things which are outside of it shall withdraw itself as far as possible from the body for the souls of those who have given themselves up to sensual pleasures and have made themselves as it were ministers to these and who under the pressure of desires which are subservient to these pleasures have violated the laws of God and man when they shall have parted from the body will fly about the earth itself nor will return to this place until they shall have suffered dormance for many ages he departed I awoke from my sleep End of section 24