Class. 
 Book. 
 
TU LLY'S 
 
 THREE BOOKS 
 
 OF 
 
 OFFICES, 
 
 IN ENGLISH, 
 WITH NOTES, 
 
 EXPLAINING 
 
 THE METHOD AND MEANING OF THE AUTHOR. 
 
 BY 
 
 THOMAS COCKMAN, D. D. 
 
 3UATE MASTER OF UNIVERSITY COLLEGE., OXFORD, 
 
 A NEW EDITION. 
 OXFORD : 
 
 PRINTED FOR E. WEATHERSTONE ; 
 
 Sold also by D. A. Talboys, Oxford ; by F. C. and J. Rivington, 
 St. Paul's Church-yard; and H. Priestley, Leudcm. 
 
 1819. 
 
.4 
 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 XHE Author of this book is so well known, that 
 it would be altogether needless to give any ac- 
 count of him in this place. As for the book itself, 
 it has always been looked upon as one of the 
 most perfect pieces of his writings, and one of 
 the noblest systems of moral precepts that has 
 ever been left us by the ancient heathens; and 
 not without reason : there appears all along in it 
 so great a love and concern for virtue, which he 
 recommends to his son with ,all imaginable 
 earnestness; so deep a sense of the obligations 
 to honesty, and aversion for every thing that is 
 contrary to it ; such an admirable inclination for 
 the virtues of plainness, truth, and sincerity, and 
 such a generous contempt of all shuffling, mean, 
 and underhand dealings ; such piety towards his 
 native country, and hearty concern for the cala- 
 mities it groaned under, and withal so much hatred 
 and detestation for those men, who had been the 
 causes of its misfortunes ; and, in a word, so 
 many excellent rules of life, with reference to 
 our duty either to God or men, and to those in 
 their several capacities and relations, whether of 
 kindred, friends, or benefactors, as have justly 
 recommended it to the esteem of all the worlds 
 and given it the first place among the eminent 
 and most celebrated writings of this kind. The 
 scope and design of it in his own words is, to lay 
 
 a2 
 
iv PREFACE. 
 
 down some directions and precepts of good living, 
 according to which upon all occasions men ought 
 to govern their lives and actions ; so that what- 
 ever state of life a man is in, whether public or 
 private, of governor or governed, of prosperity 
 or adversity, old age or youth, he will here find 
 rules how he ought to demean himself in any of 
 those capacities ; and will be told what that is, 
 which the dignity and excellence of his own na- 
 ture require in regard to himself; and what the 
 several sorts of alliance or society among men 
 demand, in relation to other people : so that while 
 other parts of learning and knowledge are most 
 times confined either to certain ages, certain 
 times, or certain places, this is of general and 
 universal use; it is (as our author says upon an- 
 other subject) necessary for youth as well as old 
 age; it directs in prosperity as well as in adver- 
 sity ; it is a delight to us at home, and a companion 
 for us abroad; pernoctat nobiscum, peregrinatur 9 
 rusticatur. 
 
 It was principally designed for the use of his 
 own son, whom he had sent to Athens for the 
 benefit of study, while all things were in disorder 
 and confusion at Rome, after Pompey's defeat 
 in the Pharsalian field: but he tells us he has 
 purposely framed it in such a manner, as that it 
 might be equally serviceable to all other people. 
 The time of its writing was after Caesar's mur- 
 der, when Mark Antony and his adherents had 
 got the power into their hands, and Cicero (as 
 he complains at the beginning of the third book) 
 was by wicked arms driven away from the city, 
 and forced to betake himself to his private retire- 
 ments. At this time he thought to have gone to 
 Athens to his son, and was accordingly on his 
 journey, when he was called back again by the 
 
PREFACE. v 
 
 loud cries of his country, as he intimates in the 
 conclusion of this discourse, and explains more 
 at large in the beginning of his first Philippic. 
 He returned to Rome upon this recal, but found 
 things very different from what he expected, 
 when he came thither; hereupon he withdrew 
 himself to his houses in the country, resolving to 
 wait for some fitter opportunity of being service- 
 able to the Republic. From this retirement he 
 sent these precepts in writing to his son, which 
 he designed to have given him by word of mouth, 
 had he arrived at Athens. The method he pro- 
 ceeds in is this which follows : after a short dis- 
 course by way of preface to his son, and fixing 
 the right notion of the subject he is to treat about, 
 he endeavours to beget in him a love of honesty, 
 by representing it as amiable and commendable 
 in itself, and agreeable to the nature and reason 
 of mankind. He divides it into four parts or 
 general heads, prudence, justice, fortitude, and 
 temperance, which are usually called the four 
 cardinal virtues, and discourses in order upon 
 eveiy one of them, with all their several species or 
 branches, and the vices that stand in opposition 
 to them. And this he does, not in a dry and 
 scholastical manner, by enquiring nicely wherein 
 the strict nature of the several virtues consists, 
 and which of their opposite vices they are nearest 
 to, (which my Lord Bacon somewhere very in- 
 geniously observes, is like a master's setting a boy 
 a copy to write after, without ever shewing him 
 how he should make his letters,) but by laying 
 down such rules under each of these heads, as 
 may direct men in the practice of the duties re- 
 quired of them. Afterwards he compares them 
 with one another, and shews in what order they 
 are to be performed by us : as justice, for example, 
 * a3 
 
vr PREFACE, 
 
 before knowledge, fortitude, &c. All these virtues,. 
 when taken together, make up the general notion 
 of honestum ; and when taken separately, are so 
 many branches or distinct members of it. 
 
 But seeing something else beside virtue or 
 honesty is necessarily requisite, or at least useful 
 and convenient for our well-being here ; such as 
 are the comforts and conveniences of life, viz. 
 riches, glory, honour, success in business, &c. 
 which are all comprehended under the notion of 
 the word profit : therefore in the second book he 
 endeavours to shew how these are to be obtained : 
 and having made it appear, that all the advantages 
 men enjoy, and the evils they endure, are princi- 
 pally owing to men themselves ; from thence he 
 infers, that the way whereby we may obtain the 
 former, and avoid the latter, is to procure the 
 endeavours of men on our side, so as to have them 
 ready to assist us upon occasion. This he shews 
 can be done no oth§r way, than by performing 
 those duties which honesty requires of us : viz. by 
 prudence and wisdom, by justice and integrity in 
 pur words and actions, whereby men are drawn to 
 place their trust and confidence in us; (where 
 also he particularly shews, that pretending and 
 hypocrisy, can never get a man any lasting ho- 
 nour ;) by kindness and beneficence, courtesy and 
 affability, which beget in men a love and affection 
 toward us : and lastly, by fortitude, contempt of 
 money, &c. which are virtues that draw men to 
 wonder and admiration, and make them think us 
 persons that really deserve to be promoted. 
 
 But because riches, honours, power, and the 
 like, which seem to be a profit and advantage to 
 us, may often interfere with virtue and duty, 
 which really are such; therefore in the third 
 book he endeavours to shew, how a good mai* 
 
PREFACE. vii 
 
 ought to carry himself in such a case ; and makes 
 it appear, that riches, honours, kingdoms, and 
 empires, arc far from being truly an advantage to 
 any man, whenever they are gotten by unlawful 
 means ; and that no honest man would do any 
 thing that is contrary to conscience or honesty, 
 though sure to obtain even the whole world by it. 
 All which he builds upon this foundation, that the 
 goods of the soul, viz. virtue and honesty, are, if 
 not the only, yet infinitely the greatest goods; 
 (which is a principle allowed of by all the wiser 
 philosophers;) from whence it must follow, that 
 whoever parts with these upon the account of any 
 riches, or other seeming advantage, be it never so 
 great, must needs be a loser; for he forfeits a 
 greater for the sake of a less good, and in hopes 
 of getting a seeming, deprives himself of a real 
 interest. Here "he goes over each of the virtues 
 mentioned in the first book, and proves that nothing 
 can be a man's true profit, though it should bring 
 him all the appearing advantages in the world, 
 and though he w T ere sure to keep it secret from 
 the eyes of all men, and even the gods themselves, 
 that is contrary to the duties of prudence and 
 justice, of fortitude and moderation. In a word, 
 here are rules for the government of our lives in 
 relation to God, our neighbours, and ourselves, 
 such as are deservedly admired in a heathen, and 
 might have well become even a Christian writer : 
 he tells us, that to procure the favour of the for- 
 mer, Ave must live a religious and holy life : that, 
 as to the second, there is an alliance or society 
 between all mankind, whereby each particular is 
 obliged to do his best towards promoting the 
 happiness and welfare of the whole body, and 
 rather to die than do another any injury : that, as 
 to ourselves, we should always consider the dignity 
 
viii PREFACE. 
 
 and excellence of our reasonable nature, and take 
 care that we never be guilty of any action, that 
 may any wise stain or unbecome its honour : this, 
 as he goes on, will quickly teach us, how base a 
 thing it is to dissolve in luxury, softness, &c. — 
 Thus have 1 endeavoured to present the reader 
 with a general view of this incomparable treatise : 
 should I proceed to tell him, that some of the most 
 eminent writers in the world have owed great 
 part of their credit to it : that the Sandersons, 
 Grotius's, Puffendorfs, &c. are particularly 
 obliged to it for their skill in determining moral cases, 
 perhaps he might think me rather zealous, than 
 impartial, in my account of it ? though I can as- 
 sure him it is no more than what is strictly true. 
 The first of those great persons (as the writer of 
 his life tells us) had it all by heart; and how 
 much use the two latter have made of it, I leave 
 those to judge who have been conversant with 
 their writings. But the book can much better 
 recommend itself by its own true value, than I 
 can do by any thing I am able to say of it ; thither 
 therefore I shall refer the reader for his farther 
 satisfaction, after I have told him, in a few words, 
 what has been attempted in this new translation. 
 I have endeavoured to express what I conceived 
 to be the sense and meaning of the author, in as 
 full and comprehensive words as I was able, attend- 
 ing all along to the principal scope and design of 
 his discourse^ rather than to the particular words 
 and expressions. I have taken care, however, to 
 let none of his words escape, without giving the 
 sense of them in our own language : so far from 
 that, that I rather expect to be condemned, on the 
 other hand, for explaining some of them a great 
 deal too much, and spending a line perhaps, or 
 more, in that which the author expressed in but 
 
PREFACE. I* 
 
 one single word : but whoever considers the nature 
 of the Latin tongue, and our author's way of 
 writing, especially in this book, will easily perceive 
 that it was necessary for me to do so, otherwise 
 the English would have been almost as hard to 
 be understood as the Latin : for the truth of which 
 I refer the reader to Chap, xxxv, xxxvi, xxxvii. 
 Book I. not to name innumerable other places. 
 I have had a peculiar eye all along, to the method 
 of the discourse, and the connection or dependence 
 of one part of it upon another ; which, because it 
 is oftentimes very obscure, I have generally added 
 the distinguishing terms of first, second, &c. and 
 where that could not be done, have sometimes 
 added a line perhaps, to shew how he passes from 
 one thing to another. As to some things, tj^at are 
 of little or no consequence toward understanding 
 the author, as if I have translated carta, dinner ; 
 hominis honorati et principis, a gentleman or a 
 person of honour; convivium, sitting at a table, 
 and over a glass of wine, &c. or if, in a philo- 
 sophical discourse as this is, I have sometimes 
 made use of an unusual word ; I suppose they will 
 be counted not unwarrantable liberties, but such 
 as are commonly taken by translators. If in the 
 main, I have hit upon the true sense and meaning 
 of my author, and expressed it in such clear and 
 intelligible terms, as may make the reader see 
 what is the force of his arguments, the reasonable- 
 ness of his precepts, the fitness of his several 
 illustrations and examples, with those other virtues 
 which have rendered this book so deservedly 
 famous ; I have obtained what I principally de- 
 signed by this attempt. 
 
 The design of the notes is chiefly to point out 
 the author's method,, and explain some passages 
 ia him that seemed more obscure than the rest ; 
 
X PREFACE. 
 
 if the reader find fault, that some of them regard 
 rather the Latin than the English, and others seem 
 trivial and inconsiderable ; I desire he would take 
 notice, that I would not have the English thrust 
 out the Latin, but rather promote and facilitate 
 the reading of it ; and that I did not design to 
 make notes for men of learning, (by whom I am 
 fitter to be taught myself,) but rather for the 
 young and less-knowing sort of people. 
 
 I have gone according to that division of chap- 
 ters, which is usually received, because the book 
 has been quoted according to it, and to have made 
 any alteration would but have bred confusion ; 
 though otherwise I think it is the most ignorant 
 and ridiculous one that was ever made, except in 
 some other of our author's writings. I have put 
 before each chapter a summary of what is con- 
 tained in it ; and to the whole have subjoined an 
 index, referring to all the principal matters that 
 are mentioned in the book. In a word, I have not 
 wilfully omitted any thing, as far as was possible 
 in so small a volume, (for I did not design to write 
 a large commentary, or play the critic upon my 
 author,) that seemed necessaiy or useful toward a 
 full explication of this excellent discourse. I have 
 made some use of Sir R. L'Estrange's English, 
 and especially Mr. Du B.'s French translation; 
 which I gratefully acknowledge. I have followed 
 that sense which to me seemed most agreeable to 
 the author's design, without finding fault with the 
 interpretations of other people, or speaking ill of 
 those who have not been of my mind ; and if 
 I have been mistaken myself in any thing, (as I 
 do not question but I many times have,) I desire 
 the reader to use the same candour and forgive- 
 ness toward me ; that, as I think, I have given 
 nobody any just cause of complaint, so I may 
 
PREFACE. xi 
 
 not have any myself from other people. In fine, 
 ( am sure my design was commendable; the 
 success of it I must leave to the reader's judg- 
 ment; I shall only say, that as I look for no 
 honour from any thing I can do, more especially 
 of this nature; so I hope that however I may 
 expect a pardon. 
 
TULLY'S OFFICES. 
 
 BOOK I. 
 
 CHAP. I. 
 
 <Cfcero exhorts his Son, a young student at Athens, not to 
 forget his Latin, though he was in a Greek University ; 
 but to mix the studies of both those languages, and 
 also learn to write both as a Philosopher and an Orator. 
 To this purpose he advises him to read his Works, as 
 having equally written in each of those kinds, which none 
 of the Grecians had ever done. But he modestly adds, 
 that he thinks they could have done it, but that they 
 applied themselves wholly to one of them. 
 
 DEAR SON MARCUS, 
 
 JL HOUGH after a year's study under Cratippus 4 , and 
 that at such a place as Athens b , you ought to have 
 
 » The most noted Peripatetic philosopher of that age, a fa- 
 miliar acquaintance of Cicero, and by him often equalled to 
 the greatest of the ancients. He was of Mitylene, the chief 
 city in the island Lesbos, and there taught for some time. Af- 
 terwards he removed to Athens, where Cicero among others 
 entrusted his son with him. See Famil. Episl. lib. xvi. epist. 21. 
 
 b The most celebrated city in the world for politeness and 
 literature ; whither all the great men of antiquity resorted for 
 learning: where Plato, Aristotle, Demosthenes, Sophocles, 
 and innumerable others, the greatest wits of the world, in old 
 time flourished ; therefore by our author in his first Book De 
 Orat. c. iv. called, The Inventress of all Arts. His son then 
 being at such a place, and under such a master, he expects he 
 should have made a suitable improvement. 
 
 B 
 
2 TULLY'S book i. 
 
 abundantly furnished yourself with knowledge in the 
 doctrines and rules of philosophy; having had the 
 advantage of so eminent a master to supply you with 
 learning, and a city that affords you such excellent 
 examples : yet I should think it convenient for you 
 (which is a method I took for my own improvement) 
 always to mingle some Latin with your Greek in the 
 studies of eloquence, as well as philosophy, that you 
 may be equally perfect in both those ways of writing, 
 and make yourself master of either language d . For the 
 furtherance of which, I am apt to imagine, I have 
 done no inconsiderable service to our countrymen -, so 
 that not only those who do not understand Greek, but 
 even the learned themselves, will confess, that by read- 
 ing my works, they have mended their styles, and 
 somewhat improved their reason and judgments.— 
 Wherefore I am willing that you should learn indeed 
 of Cratippus, the greatest philosopher of the present 
 age, and learn of him too as long as you desire it 5 
 and so long I think it is your duty to desire it, as you 
 find yourself sufficiently benefited by it^/but withal, I 
 would have you to read my writings, which very little 
 differ from those of the Peripatetics ; for both* we 
 
 c Not of persons then living only, but of those also that 
 were dead and gone ; nothing so bringing to our remembrance 
 the virtues and learning of great men, as being in the places 
 where they once flourished ; which is one great advantage of a 
 public education. 
 
 d Utriusque orationis may mean either the two languages of 
 Latin and Greek, or the two kinds of style that are proper, one 
 for the bar, and the other for philosophical discourses. 1 have 
 taken both senses into the translation. 
 
 « So I understand the word utrique to mean both the Acade- 
 mics of whom Cicero, and the Peripatetics of whom Cratippus, 
 was. These two sects at first were almost one and the same, 
 as appears from several places of Cicero; [see book iii. ch. 
 4. and Academic. Qumt, book i. ch. 4.] Xenocrates, the 
 chief author of the former, and Aristotle of the latter, being 
 each of them scholars to the incomparable Plato, who was 
 hearer of the wise Socrates. The Academics therefore and 
 Peripatetics were both of them followers not of Socrates only. 
 
chap. Ii OFFICES. 3 
 
 and they profess ourselves followers, not of Socrates 
 only, but of Plato likewise. As for the matters con- 
 tained in them, use your own judgment with freedom 
 and impartiality, for I lay no manner of restraint upon 
 you : your improvement in the Latin is what I chiefly 
 desire, which I am confident must follow from a care- 
 ful perusal of them. Nor let any one think that 1 am 
 vain and pretending when I speak thus : for, allowing 
 to some others the precedence in philosophy, should I 
 assume to myself what is the part of an orator, viz. to 
 speak suitably f , methodically, and handsomely upon 
 any subject, seeing 1 have spent my whole life in that 
 study, I think it is no more than what I might reason- 
 ably and fairly lay claim to. I cannot but very ear- 
 nestly desire you therefore, my dear Cicero, to read 
 my books with care and diligence y not my Orations 
 only, but these pieces also that concern philosophy, 
 which are now of a bulk almost equal to them ;Vfor 
 though in the former there is more of the force and 
 power of eloquence, yet is the smooth and even style 
 of the latter by no means to be neglected. And of all 
 the Grecians, I find not one that has employed his pen 
 in both these kinds ; and been at once successful in 
 the language of the bar, and this other more gentle 
 
 (for that almost all the philosophers were,) [See Cic. de Orat. iii. 
 16, 17 J but of Plato too, and so were very nearly allied to 
 each other. 
 
 f Apte, distincte, &c. The word apte properly denotes the 
 conformity of our style to the subject we are handling-, and is 
 called by our author in other places, Apte ad rerum dignitatem 
 dicere ; and he tells us, that those men may be said to speak 
 apte, Qui ita moderantur Orationem, ut rerum et personarum 
 dignitates ferunt, which I think answers to our English word 
 suitably. See QuintiL Institute lib. xi. c. 1. Distincte refers to 
 the method of a discourse, and is opposed to confusedness : 
 ornate to the figures and ornaments of rhetoric. So that these 
 three words seem indifferently well to comprehend the whole 
 business of an orator ; which is, Invenire prceclare, inventa dis- 
 pones, disposita exornare ; to invent what is suitable and pro- 
 per for the subject, to put it into a good method, and to giv* 
 it the ornaments of eloquence, &c, 
 
 82 
 
TULLYS 
 
 BOOK Iv 
 
 and easy style of philosophical discourses 5 unless 
 Demetrius Phalereus^ may be reckoned for one, who 
 is subtle enough in his disputes of philosophy, but, 
 xnethinks, in his oratory, wants that spirit and vehe- 
 mence that is requisite; however, has so much of 
 sweetness in him, that one might know he had been 
 TheophrastusV h scholar. Whether 1 have had any 
 better success in both these ways, must be left to the 
 judgment of others to determine : I can only say that 
 I have attempted them both. And it is my opinion, 
 that if ever Plato 1 had undertaken to plead, he would 
 have been a most copious and powerful orator ; and if 
 Demosthenes k had studied and discoursed of those 
 
 f A Peripatetic born at Phalerum, a small town on the sea- 
 coast of Attica, from whence he had his name. He was ten 
 years governor of Athens, in which time he was honoured with 
 three hundred statues. Being afterwards driven out by Deme- 
 trius Poliorcetes, son of Antigonus, Alexander the Great's 
 captain, he fled to Ptolemy, king of Egypt, by whom he was 
 set over the famous Alexandrian library, which contained in it 
 (as some write) 700,000 volumes. He persuaded that prince to 
 get the Old Testament translated into Greek, which is what we 
 now call the translation of the Seventy. Most of his works 
 are lost. See our author De Legg. lib. ii. c. 26. lib. Hi. c. 6\ 
 
 b A noble philosopher of the Peripatetic sect, scholar first 
 of Plato, and afterwards of Aristotle, whom he succeeded in 
 his school. He was son of one Melantes, a fuller, and born 
 at an obscure place of the isle of Lesbos, named Eresus, 
 whence he himself is called Eresius. His first name was Tyr- 
 tamus, that of Theophrastus being afterwards given him by 
 Aristotle for his divine eloquence. He was mightily admired 
 by Cicero, who used to call him his delight, and is often com- 
 mending him for the sweetness of his style. Several of his 
 works are still remaining, one of the chief of which is his 
 Characters. 
 
 1 An incomparable philosopher, born at Athens, who tra- 
 velled over great part of the world for knowledge ; he is often 
 mentioned, and in several places translated by Cicero, who 
 follows him very much in his philosophical writings. His works 
 still remain, which are so excellent, as to have justly gained 
 him the name of the divine Plato. 
 
 * The most famous Greek orator that ever was, son of a 
 blacksmith in Athens, and scholar to Plato. His works an* 
 still extant. See his life in Plutarch. 
 
chap. ii. OFFICES. 5 
 
 things, which he learnt of Plato, he would have done 
 it with a great deal of ornament and majesty. The 
 same I think true of Isocrates and Aristotle 1 ; each of 
 which, pleased with his own way of writing, neglected 
 to cultivate and improve the other'". 
 
 CHAP. II. 
 
 The reasons why he writes upon this subject. The general 
 ztse and importance of it. All philosophers have 
 handledit; though some, by their false notions of happi* 
 ness and misery, utterly pervert it. What seels they are 
 that have a right to lay doivn any rules or precepts 
 concerning it. He designs in this work to follow the 
 Stoics principally. The subject of a discourse ought first 
 to be defined, before we begin to say any thing upon it* 
 
 XjUT having resolved to write something at present, 
 and a great many others hereafter to you, I thought 
 I could begin upon no better argument, than that 
 which is fittest for your age, and most becoming my 
 authority as a father; for, of all those useful and im- 
 portant subjects, which philosophers have handled so 
 largely and accurately, the precepts they have deli- 
 vered about offices or duties™, seem of the largest extent 
 
 1 Isocrates was a notable teacher of rhetoric, and Aristotle 
 a most eminent philosopher in the famous city of Athens ; both 
 of them very well known by their works, which are still, the 
 greatest part of them, remaining". "? 
 
 m That is, Isocrates never tried how he could succeed in phi- 
 losophical discourses, nor Aristotle in orations. 
 
 ■ Ojjicium in our author, which I beg leave to render either 
 office or duf.y y signifies especially two things ; sometimes the 
 duty or obligation itself, as when he says, Peregrini officium 
 est, It is the duty of a stranger, i. e. He is obliged to do so or 
 so, &c. At other times, the action whereby that duty is per- 
 formed, as when he divides officio,, virtues, into media and per- 
 fectay ordinary and complete ones ; so officio, justitiet, UheralU 
 tatis, &c. are the actions of those virtues j which may be worth 
 observing through the whole work. 
 
 b3 
 
6 TULLY'S book i. 
 
 and comprehension; for they take in every part of 
 our lives, so that whatever we go about, whether of 
 public or private affairs, whether at home or abroad, 
 whether considered barely by ourselves, or as we stand 
 in relation to other people, we lie constantly under an 
 obligation to some duties : and as all the virtue and 
 credit of our lives proceed from the due discharge of 
 this ; so all the baseness and turpitude of them result 
 from the non-observance of the same. Now, though 
 this be a subject which all philosophers have employed 
 themselves about, (for, who ever dared to assume that 
 name without layingdown some instructions about duty?) 
 yet have some sects of them given such accounts of 
 man's happiness and misery, as destroy the very being 
 of virtue and honesty. For he that makes any thing 
 his chiefest good, wherein justice or virtue does not 
 bear a part, and sets up profit, not honesty,- for the 
 measure of his happiness; as long as he acts in con- 
 formity with his own principles, and is not over-ruled 
 by the mere dictates of reason and humanity, can 
 never do the offices of friendship, justice, or liberality. 
 Nor can he ever be a man of courage, who thinks that 
 pain is the greatest evil ; or he of temperance, who 
 imagines pleasure to be the sovereign good. Which 
 things are all so obvious and plain, that one would 
 think they could never stand in need of a dispute: 
 
 • He means chiefly the Epicureans, who made man's happi- 
 ness to consist in pleasure, and his misery in pain, which is 
 indeed to subvert the very foundations of honesty. For seeing 
 there is nothing that men will not do, for the obtaining their 
 chief good, and avoiding the greatest evil, it necessarily fol- 
 lows, that (as long as they act consistently with their princi- 
 ples) these men will betray their friends, break their oaths, or 
 do any thing in the world, rather than forego any pleasure, or 
 endure any pain. Therefore he has reason to say, They never 
 can do the duties of friendship , &c. For certainly, if I count 
 pleasure my greatest good, I shall rather part with my honesty 
 than that; and if I reckon pain the greatest of evils, I will 
 xather lose a friend, be unmerciful or unjust, than ever under- 
 go it. The same may be said of those that place their happi- 
 ness in riches, honours, &c. and their ruisery in the contraryc 
 See Tusc, Quasi, ii. 6\ 
 
chap. ii. OFFICES. 7 
 
 however, I have largely discoursed upon them in an- 
 other work p. These sects therefore, unless they are re- 
 solved to be inconsistent with themselves, ought wholly 
 to abstain from speaking any thing about duties; nor 
 indeed can any constant, unalterable, rational rule3 
 of them at all be given, unless it be by those who go 
 upon this principle, That it is virtue alone 1 , or at least 
 that chiefly, which ought to be desired for its own sake. 
 So that only the Stoics', Academies*, and Peripatetics*, 
 have a right to lay down any rules upon this subject: 
 for as to the opinion of Aristo, Pyrrho, and Herillus% 
 
 p His books fie Finibus Bonorum et Malorum. 
 
 *» It is a Stoical principle, That the happiness of man consists 
 %7i acting agreeably to his nature; by nature, understanding 
 nothing else but right reason, whereby man is distinguished 
 from all other creatures. By conjuncta nature?, therefore, in 
 this place, I suppose he means, such as are agreeable to the 
 dictates and rules of right reason, i. e. rational. 
 
 * For if any thing else may be desired more than virtue, I 
 may part with my virtue for obtaining it : and by consequence 
 cannot observe any settled, unalterable rules of duty. 
 
 3 Who held that nothing was good or desirable for its own 
 sake, but virtue or honesty. 
 
 * Who denied there was any such thing as certainty, and 
 were not tied to any particular opinions, but always followed 
 what appeared most probable ; though generally inclining to 
 the Peripatetics, See book ii. c. 2. book iii. c. 4. 
 
 u Who held that virtue was jthe chief, and abundantly most 
 desirable good. [See book iii. c. 3.] but yet allowed the name 
 of good to some other things, viz. riches, friends, health, &e. 
 which the Stoics did not. 
 
 * These three philosophers were of different opinions about 
 man's happiness ; Aristo and Pyrrho making it consist in virtue 
 alone, with a perfect indifference as to every thing else, such 
 as health, riches, honours, &c. [See Cicer. de Fin. book iv. 
 c. 16. Acad. Qucest. book iv. c. 42.] Herillus made it to con- 
 sist in knowledge, with a like indifference. See Cicer. de Fin. 
 lib. v. c. 8. Though they did disagree therefore in their no- 
 tions of happiness, yet they were all agreed in what Cicero 
 here taxes them with, viz. taking away all delectus rerum, dif- 
 ference, or power of choosing between things : by which means 
 they left no aditus (as he speaks) ad inventionem officii, no way 
 of finding out what is our duty. For how can that prudence 
 which is seen in wisely choosing one thing before another have 
 any place, if all things are equally in themselves indifferent? 
 
S TULLY'S booki, 
 
 that has been exploded a good while ago $ who might 
 have claimed a privilege to treat about duties, as well 
 as the former three, had they but left the possibility of 
 choosing, and allowed at least so much difference be- 
 tween things, as to put us into a capacity of finding 
 out our duty, and distinguishing it from that which is 
 not so. I shall follow y therefore at this time, and on 
 this subject more especially, the Stoics j not as a bare 
 translator of them, but (according to my usual cus- 
 tom) shall take out of their stores so much, and after 
 such a manner, as in my own judgment I shall think 
 most convenient. Seeing then the whole of our fol- 
 lowing discourse is designed to be about Offices or Du- 
 ties, 1 think it will be necessary for me, in the first 
 place, to determine 2 and fix the signification of the 
 word Office, which I cannot but admire to find omitted 
 by Panaetius*: for every clear and rational discourse 
 upon any subject ought first to begin with an explica- 
 tion of that subject, so that we may have a distinct 
 conception of what we are afterwards to discourse 
 about. 
 
 And if there be no difference between sickness and health, 
 riches and poverty, and it is as good for a man to be in one as 
 the other of these, this takes away all obligation of assisting 
 those who are in sickness or want ; seeing, according to tjiis 
 opinion, they are not anywise in a worse condition than the 
 healthy or rich : and by consequence all justice, charity, 
 bounty, &c. must fall to the ground. This is what Cicero often 
 objects to them, that they did Virtutem ipsa?n, quam amplexa- 
 bantur, tollere, take away and ruin, by just consequence, that 
 virtue, in which their opinion made happiness to consist. See 
 Cic. de Fin. book ii. c. 13. and several other places. 
 
 y For being an academic, he was not tied to any set of opi- 
 nions, but allowed to choose that which he thought most pro- 
 bable ; whether Stoic, Peripatetic, or any other. 
 
 z The word definire does not necessarily signify to define, 
 in the strict acceptation of that word; but in a larger sense, 
 to set bounds to the meaning and signification of any word. 
 
 a An eminent Stoic, scholar of Antipater Tarsensis or Sido- 
 nius. He writ three books concerning Offices, which Cicero 
 follows in this work. He was a Rhodian by birth, and greatly 
 admired for his learning and wisdom by the second Africanus, 
 and the wise Lselius, &c. Cicero often makes honourable men- 
 
■ciiAr. in. OFFICES, 
 
 CHAP. III. 
 
 fhe whole subject of duties consists of two parts. Ordi- 
 nary and perfect duties, and what theij are. Pancetius 
 made but three general heads of deliberation, to ivhich 
 Cicero adds two more. The general method he designs 
 to take in the whole work. 
 
 jL HE whole subject of duties then, in its greatest la- 
 titude, comprehends under it these two parts b : the 
 first is taken up in explaining what is good, and what 
 our greatest good. The second in certain directions 
 and precepts, according to which upon all occasions 
 it is our duty to govern our lives and actions. To the 
 first part belong such questions as these, Whether all 
 duties are perfect or not? and, Whether one can be 
 greater or less than another? with several others to 
 the same purpose. Not but that the duties c of this 
 second part, the rules and precepts of which are laid 
 down, have some tendency and relation to our chiefest 
 good ; but only it does not so plainly appear, because 
 they seem to concern more immediately the government 
 of our lives and regulation of our manners $ and these 
 are they which I design to explain in the following 
 treatise. There is also another distribution of duties d , 
 
 tion of him, calling him one of the greatest of all the Stoics, 
 and worthy of that familiarity with those two great men. 
 
 b The whole of morality consists of two parts ; in one of 
 which it is enquired, What the happiness or chief good of man 
 is? In the second are laid down some rules of action, by liv- 
 ing up to which he is to obtain that happiness. Of the former 
 he has discoursed in his books de Finibas; the latter makes the 
 subject of his present enquiry. 
 
 c Such are the actions of justice, temperance, &c. the per- 
 formance of which tends directly to man's happiness, though 
 they immediately relate to the conduct of his life. 
 
 d Philosophers usually reckon three degrees or states of 
 virtue ; the first utterly imperfect, before a man has gotten a 
 habit of it; which is rather an entrance into, than a state of 
 virtue, therefore not mentioned here by our author, The se- 
 
10 TULLY'S bookx. 
 
 some of them being called middle or ordinary, and 
 others perfect or complete. To the latter, I think, we 
 may give the name of right or straight, which sort by 
 the Greeks is called xaroftapcc ; as the former ordinary 
 one xe&qjtov. By that which we have called right or 
 straight, as they explain it, is meant a virtue that is 
 wholly complete in all its parts, without any manner 
 of flaw or imperfection ; and by that which we have 
 called ordinary, such a one as a fair and reasonable ac- 
 count may be given for the doing of it. Now these 
 fair and reasonable accounts 6 are all to be drawn from 
 several heads, which are by Pansetius reduced to three, 
 and may be called general heads of deliberating or 
 doubting concerning any action, whether it should or 
 should not be done. The first is, when it is consulted 
 or doubted, whether the action that is under consider- 
 ation be honest or dishonesty in which enquiry men 
 are often divided between several opinions. The se- 
 cond is when it is enquired and consulted, whether 
 the action that is under deliberation will supply us 
 with the pleasures and conveniences of life, furnish us 
 with plenty of outward things, such as riches, ho- 
 nours, power, &c. which may put us into a capacity 
 of doing good to ourselves, and to all those for whom 
 
 cond more perfect, when a man hath got a habit of it, but yet 
 may sometimes fall into vice ; such was the virtue of Cato, 
 JLaelius, and other wise men. The third absolutely perfect 
 and complete, by Aristotle called Heroic, and by the Stoics, 
 The State of Wisdom : when a man has perfectly got the 
 mastery of his passions, and with all the powers and faculties 
 of his soul, from a perfect habit of the truest wisdom and pru- 
 dence, doth nothing but what is wholly agreeable to right rea- 
 son. An office or virtue of this third kind the Stoics called 
 xccro^MfAoc ; and the man that does it a wise man, such a one as 
 (by their own confession) never was in the world, but only in 
 idea. A virtue of the second is called xecd-wov, which I have 
 Englished ordinary, which does not require a perfect imaginary 
 wisdom, but is such as ordinary men are capable of in the af- 
 fairs of life. See book iii. c. 3, 4. 
 
 e I have enlarged a little upon our author here, to make 
 his sense more plain, 
 
chap. in. OFFICES. H 
 
 we are more nearly concerned ; all which enquiry 
 comes under the general head of profit f . The third 
 ground or reason of doubting is, when that thing 
 which seems to be profitable * for us comes into com- 
 petition with that which is honest : for then our inte- 
 rest drawing us one way, and honesty pulling us 
 back another, the wavering mind is, as it were, torn 
 in sunder between the two, and is racked with doubt- 
 ing and anxious thoughts. There is no greater fault 
 in any division, than not to take in all the several 
 parts of the matter to be divided -, and yet two are 
 omitted in the now-mentioned one of Panaetius. For 
 men not only consult and deliberate whether such an 
 action be honest or dishonest j but also of two honests 
 that are both proposed to them, which is the most so ; 
 and in like manner of two profltables, which is the 
 most profitable. From whence it appears, that what 
 he thought was contained in three, ought rather to be 
 divided into five heads h . We must then, in the first 
 place, discourse about honesty, and this we shall do 
 
 f He comprehends then under the notion of profit, not 
 only riches and honours, but all the other conveniences and 
 pleasures of life ; such as health, strength, bodily plea- 
 sures, &c. And an action that will supply us with any of 
 these, is what he calls by the name of a profitable one. 
 
 8 He says seems to be y because however it may supply us 
 with the conveniences of life, yet it is not really, but only 
 seems to be profitable, if it thwart honesty. For honesty 
 being the greatest, if not only good, as he before laid down, 
 whatever takes away our honesty, must needs be unprofitable 
 for us, though it should supply us with all the pleasures and 
 glories of the world, as he shews at large in the third book. 
 
 h Having thus laid down his five heads of deliberation, he 
 tells you in what method he designs to discourse of them. In 
 the first book he will handle the two about honesty : first, Whe- 
 ther an action be honest or dishonest? to c. 43. Secondly, 
 Of two that are both honest, which is the most so ? to the end. 
 — Tn the second book he treats of profitable, enquiring first, 
 Whether an action be profitable or not ? to c. 25. Secondly, 
 Of two that are both profitable, which is the most so ? to the 
 end. — The whole subject of the third book is the fifth head. 
 When a seeming profit interferes with honesty, how a man 
 should do to know what is his duty ? I have added something 
 to the text here, to make the method more plain. 
 
12 TULLY'3 book i, 
 
 under these two enquiries: Whether the thing pro- 
 posed be honest or dishonest? and, Of two that are 
 honest, which is the most so } which will make up 
 the subject of our first book. We shall treat in our 
 second of profit or interest under the same heads. 
 And lastly, in our third we shall endeavour to shew. 
 When a seeming advantage and honesty come into 
 competition, how a good man should determine his 
 judgment. 
 
 CHAP. IV. 
 
 The excellence of the nature of man, above that of brutes* 
 How the several virtues, Prudence, Justice, 8<c. are 
 agreeable to its dictates, and result from them, Where- 
 in Honestum in general consists. 
 
 XHE first thing to be taken notice of is this 1 , that 
 every creature doth by nature endeavour to preserve 
 its own self, its life and body ; and to shun and avoid 
 those things which appear prejudicial and hurtful .to it ; 
 but to seek and procure whatever is necessary for the 
 support of its being, and advancement of its happiness, 
 such as food, shelter, and the like. There is likewise 
 common to all sorts of animals, a desire of copulation, 
 for the continuance and propagation of their several 
 
 * His design he has told us is, to treat of the means for at- 
 taining man's happiness. Now the happiness of any thing 1 is 
 the highest perfection of its nature, which consists in acting 
 most agreeably to its dictates: as that is a perfect horse or 
 dog, which does those things best, which are most according 
 to the natures of those animals. The duties therefore, of 
 which he is to treat, since their design is to bring men to hap- 
 piness, must needs be such as are perfective of, and conse- 
 quently such as are agreeable to, the nature of man. And to 
 shew that they are so, and how they are deduced and derived 
 from it, it was necessary for him, in the first place, to shew- 
 wherein the nature of man consists, and how he differs from 
 that of other creatures ; which is therefore the design of this 
 chapter. See his de Fin, book ii, c. 14. and book v. c. 9, 10, 
 
chap. iv. OFFICES. 13 
 
 species; together with a love and concern for their 
 young ones. Now there is this special difference between 
 men and brutes j that the latter are governed by no- 
 thing but their senses, never look any farther than 
 just to what strikes and affects them at present, and 
 have a very little, or hardly any concern for what is 
 past or to come : but the former are creatures endowed 
 with reason, which gives them a power to carry their 
 thoughts to the consequences of things, to discover 
 causes before they have yet produced their effects ; to 
 see the whole progress and even the first seeds, as it were, 
 and appearances of them ; to compare like occurrences 
 with like, and by joining what is past and what is to 
 come together, to make a just estimate of the one 
 from the other; whereby they are able at once to take 
 a view of their whole lives, and accordingly to make 
 provision for the necessities of them. And the same 
 force of reason makes all men by nature to love one 
 another k , and desire an intercourse of words and actions. 
 It begets in them likewise a somewhat extraordinary 
 love and affection for their own children i, and 
 strongly inclines them to frequent public meetings, 
 and keep up societies one amongst another. For the 
 same reason also they are very industrious to provide 
 for the necessaries and conveniences of life $ and that 
 not only for themselves in particular, but for their 
 wives, their children, and others whom they have a 
 kindness for, and are obliged to take care of 5 which 
 concern is very proper to rouse up the spirits, and 
 make them more vigorous and active in business. But 
 of all the properties and inclinations of men, there is 
 
 k How justice or the virtues, relating to human society, such. 
 as liberality, good-nature, gratitude, &c. are agreeable to the 
 dictates and principles of human nature. 
 
 1 That is, much greater than that which brutes have for 
 their young ones ; one is the effect of only natural instinct ; 
 the other of reason together with it : the one lasts but a little 
 while, till the young is able to shift for itself; the other till 
 death : the one prompts brutes only to take care of the bodies 
 of their offspring ; the other men to take care of the minds of 
 theirs, by instructing them in principles of virtue and honesty, 
 &c. 
 
H TULLY'S 
 
 BOOK I. 
 
 none more natural and peculiar to them, than an ear- 
 nest desire and search after truth m . Hence it is that 
 our minds are no sooner free from the thoughts and 
 engagements of necessary business, but we presently 
 long to be either seeing, or hearing, or learning of 
 something $ and esteem the knowledge of things secret 
 and wonderful as a necessary ingredient of a happy 
 life. From whence it appears that nothing is more 
 agreeable and suited to the nature and minds of men, 
 than undisguised openness, truth, and sincerity. Next 
 to this love and affection for truth", there follows in 
 the soul an impatient desire and inclination to pre-emi- 
 nence; so that whoever has the genuine nature of a 
 man in him, will never endure to be subject to an- 
 other, unless he be one that instructs or advises, or is 
 invested with a just and lawful authority for the bene- 
 fit of the public. From whence there arises a great- 
 ness of soul°, which sets it above all the petty concerns 
 and trifling enjoyments of this present world. It is 
 another, and that too no mean prerogative of our 
 reasonable nature, that man alone can discern all the 
 beauties of order and decency p , and knows how to govern 
 his words and actions in conformity to them. It is 
 he alone, that of all the creatures, observes and is 
 pleased with the beauty, gracefulness, and symme- 
 try of parts in the objects of sense; which nature and 
 reason observing in them, from thence take occasion 
 to apply the same also to those of the mind 5 and to 
 conclude that beauty, consistency, and regularity, 
 should be much more kept up in our words and ac- 
 tions; and therefore command us, that nothing be 
 done that is effeminate or unbecoming; and that so 
 
 ■» Prudence, or the virtues relating to truth, such as wisdom, 
 knowledge, plainness, &c. agreeable to nature. 
 
 » How fortitude, or greatness of soul, is agreeable to human 
 natare. 
 
 • For this desire of rule, and being subject to nobody, 
 makes a man scorn to be a slave either to his own passions or 
 inclinations, or part with his liberty to any one else, for the 
 sake of honours, preferments, &c. See c. xx. 
 
 p Decency, modesty, &c. derived from the dictates and 
 principles of nature. 
 
c*ur. v. OFFICES. 15 
 
 strict a guard be kept over every thought and action, 
 as that no lust or filthiness be either conceived or prac- 
 tised by us. From these inclinations and instincts of 
 nature, arises and results that honestum* we are seek- 
 ing for ; which however little valued and esteemed it 
 may be, is nevertheless virtuous and amiable in it- 
 self j and which we may justly say, though it were 
 commended by no one, is yet in its own nature truly 
 commendable. 
 
 CHAP. V. 
 
 The admirable beauty of honesty. Four general heads of 
 it, from which all the several duties arise ; and what 
 the object of each of them is, about which it is employed. 
 
 JlHUS, son Marcus, have I given you a rough 
 draught, and just the outlines, as it were, of honesty; 
 which could she be seen in her full beauty with mortal 
 eye, would make the whole world (as Plato has said) 
 be in love with wisdom r . Now whatever is contained 
 under the notion of honesty, arises from one of these 
 four heads ; first, a sagacious enquiry and observation 
 for the rinding out of truth, which may be called by 
 the general name of prudence. Secondly, a care to 
 maintain that society and mutual intercourse which is 
 between men $ to render to every man what is his due ; 
 
 * Honesty then in general is nothing else, but the acting 
 according to the dictates and inclinations of nature or right 
 reason ; and consists of four general virtues ; Justice, or the 
 keeping up society and intercourse among men ; Prudence, or 
 the contemplation of truth ; Courage, or greatness of soul ; 
 and Temperance, or the virtues of decency, modesty, &c. of 
 each of which he discourses afterwards in particular. 
 
 r For what else is it but only wisdom, that leads us to the 
 attainment of virtue and honesty ? Or rather indeed what else 
 is wisdom, but virtue and honesty itself ? He therefore, that 
 can behold the glorious beauties of honesty, must needs fall in. 
 love with wisdom, which indeed is nothing but honesty itself; 
 it being impossible for any one to be wise, who is not at the 
 same time virtuous and honest ; knavishness and roguery being 
 always the greatest folly, 
 
16 TULLYS book'l 
 
 and to stand to one's words in all promises and bar- 
 gains; which we call justice. Thirdly, the greatness 
 and unshaken resolution of a truly brave and invinci- 
 ble mind; which goes by the name of magnanimity 
 or fortitude. And lastly, a keeping of our words and 
 actions within the due limits of order and decency ; 
 under which are comprehended temperance 5 and mo- 
 deration. Now every one of these several heads, 
 though they all have a mutual connection and depend- 
 ence on one another 1 , has yet its particular classis, as 
 it were, and respective set of duties arising from it. — 
 From that, for example, which is mentioned first, and 
 under which prudence and wisdom are contained, 
 arises the duty of seeking, contemplating, and finding 
 out of truth, which is the proper and peculiar business 
 of those virtues : for it is then, and then alone, that 
 we justly esteem a man prudent and wise, when we 
 find that he is able to see and discover the truth of 
 things; and of an active, vigorous, and piercing 
 mind, to give an account of the reasons of them $ so 
 that it is truth that is the proper object of both these 
 virtues, and that about which they are only concerned". 
 
 • He doth not therefore restrain temperance, as Aristotle 
 did, and vve in our language do, to observing a mediocrity in 
 eating, &c. but makes it belong to all the other virtues, and 
 set them their bounds, which if they pass they degenerate into 
 vices. It is the business of prudence, for instance, to search 
 out truth ; but this may be done intemperately, i. e. too much, 
 &c. It is the work of temperance therefore to determine how 
 far, and after what manner it ought to be sought for ; in which 
 sense the word is to be understood, as also proportionably its 
 opposite intemperantia, in other places of this and other au- 
 thors : so intemperantia Pausanice> is his pride and insolence, 
 in Corn, Nep, 
 
 e This is true of the virtues in the state of perfection : for 
 he who is virtuous to that degree, must have a perfect prudence 
 [See note d, c. iii.] and by consequence must act prudently, 
 i. e. virtuously, as well in one as another case. As we know 
 whoever is honest out of a principle of conscience, will be ho- 
 nest in every thing ; and will not think it enough to be just and 
 bountiful, but will also be true, sincere, &e. 
 
 * See page 18, note b. 
 
chap. vi. OFFICES. 17 
 
 The other three heads more peculiarly belong to the 
 active life, and their business lies in procuring and 
 keeping what is useful and necessary for the preserva- 
 tion of it ; as in holding up mutual love and corre- 
 spondence among mankind; in an elevated greatness 
 and strength of mind; which appears, as in getting 
 things profitable and pleasant for ourselves and depend- 
 ents, so more especially in despising and being above 
 them. Then as for the last, viz. order, uniformity, 
 moderation, and the like, it is plain they belong not 
 only to contemplation x , but have also a respect to our 
 outward actions; since from keeping of these within 
 the bounds and limits of order and moderation, we 
 are said to observe what is virtuous and becoming. 
 
 y 
 
 CHAP. VI. 
 
 Prudence or contemplation of truth, the first of the general 
 virtues, is the nearest allied to the nature of man. Two 
 cautions concerning it. It ought to give place to the 
 duties of the active life. What it ought especially to 
 he employed about. 
 
 xxAVING thus explained how the whole nature and 
 power of honesty is deduced from some one of these 
 four parts ; we are now to discourse of them each in 
 particular 7 . And, first, of Prudence, which is wholly 
 taken up in the knowledge of truth, and has the 
 nearest affinity of any with the reasonable nature of 
 man. For how are we all of us drawn and enticed 
 with the desire of wisdom ? How noble and glorious 
 a thing do we imagine it to excel in knowledge ? And 
 how mean and reproachful do we count it on the other 
 hand, to slip, to be in an error, to be ignorant, or to 
 
 * Not but that they are seen in contemplation too ; for 
 there is such a thing as moderation to be observed, even in our 
 searches after truth ; but they are seen more especially in our 
 outward actions. 
 
 y I have added something to the beginning of this chapter, 
 tc make the connection with the foregoing plainer, 
 
 c 3 
 
v . 
 
 18 * TULLY'S 
 
 BOOK t. 
 
 be imposed upon ? In gratifying this so natural and 
 virtuous inclination in the mind of man, there are two 
 grand faults to be carefully avoided: the first is an 
 over great hastiness and rashness in giving up our as- 
 sent, presuming that we know things before we really 
 do so. Whoever desires (as I am sure all ought) to 
 avoid this error, must in all his enquiries allow himself 
 time, and diligently consider the matter with himself, 
 "before he proceeds to pass his judgment upon it. The 
 second fault is, that a great many men bestow abun- 
 dance of study, and a world of pains, upon very diffi- 
 cult and obscure subjects ; and such as perhaps, when 
 they are found out, are of but very little, or no con- 
 cernment. Would men but be careful to shun these 
 two mistakes, whatever study or pains they might 
 spend upofr virtuous, worthy, or profitable subjects, it 
 %vould not without reason be highly commended. Thus 
 Caius Sulpicius z was heretofore praised for his skill in 
 astronomy ; Sext. Pompeius 3 , since my memory, for 
 his in geometry : many have been famous in the study 
 of logic, and more in that of the civil laws : the more 
 peculiar business of all which parts of learning is the 
 finding out of truth b . No man, however, should be so 
 taken up in the search of truth, as thereby to neglect 
 the more necessary duties of the active life : for after 
 all is done, it is action only that gives a true value and 
 commendation to virtue. Not that we are able to be 
 always a doing without intermission, but often retire 
 
 * C. Sulpicius Gallus, Praetor of Rome, An. U. C. 58!, and 
 the year after, tribune of a legion under P. ^Smilius, in the 
 great Macedonian war, where, by his astronomy, he foretold 
 to the Roman soldiers an eclipse of the moon, so that they 
 were not at all disheartened ; whereas the enemy, who knew 
 nothing at all of such an appearance beforehand, were ex- 
 tremely terrified at it. Livy, book xliv. c. 37. Plutarch's 
 iEmUius. Cicero often mentions him. 
 
 * Uncle to Pompey the Great; several times mentioned by 
 our author, for his great skill in geometry, philosophy, and 
 the civil laws. 
 
 b The immediate end of all these sciences indeed is truth ; 
 not but that they may any of them be applied to action ; as 
 Sulpicius's astronomy ? for example, was, 
 
vp. vii. OFFICES. 19 
 
 from business to study; beside that the mind, which is 
 in perpetual motion and agitations c , of itself will sup- 
 ply us with study and thinking, whether we set our- 
 selves to it or not. In a word, the general aim and 
 design of our thought, and application of mind, is 
 either the attainment of such things as are honest, and 
 tend to a virtuous and happy way of life d -, or else the 
 improvement of our reason and understanding in wis- 
 dom and knowledge. And this may suffice for the 
 first of our general heads of duty. 
 
 CHAP. VII. 
 
 The second general virtue, which consists in maintaining 
 of human society. Two parts of it, justice and libe- 
 rality. — The first duty of justice. All things at first 
 common. The original of property. Men are born for 
 the good, #c. of one another ; whence arises the second 
 duty of justice. — Two sorts of injustice, the one of 
 commission, the other of omission. The causes of the 
 first sort of injustice ; first, fear ; secondly, desire. 
 
 OF the other remaining three, that which consists in 
 upholding society % and keeping up mutual love and 
 
 c What great use might be made of this continual activity 
 of the soul, if instead of spending it (as too many do) upon 
 frivolous, useless, and wicked subjects, it were constantly em- 
 ployed upon some virtuous, useful, or necessary enquiries ? 
 
 d This is no more than the ordinary school-division of the 
 understanding into practical and speculative ; the former con- 
 siders things in order to practise, as, whether good or bad, ho- 
 nest or dishonest, tending to a happy or miserable life ; the 
 latter only in order to knowledge, whether they are true, or 
 not true, without any direct tendency to practise at all. The 
 former is Only prudence, the latter knowledge : by which it 
 appears in wl\at sense he takes the word truth, when he says 
 it is the object of this virtue, viz. not only for truth, as oppo- 
 site to falsehood in speculation, but as comprehending under it: 
 that which is truly good and honest, as opposite to vice and 
 dishonesty. 
 
 • Which may be called justice in a larger signification of 
 that word, as it takes in all the duties men owe to one another, 
 which is the second general head he mentioned \ and compre-- 
 
26 TULLYS book i. 
 
 good-nature amongst mankind, seems of the largest 
 and most diffusive extent. It comprehends under it 
 these two parts : first, justice, which is much the most 
 glorious and splendid of all virtues, and alone entitles 
 us to the name and appellation of good men : -and, 
 secondly, beneficence, which may also be called either 
 bounty or liberality. Now tin- first thing that justice 
 requires of us is this ; " That no one should do any 
 hurt to another, unless by way of reasonable and just 
 retribution for some injury received from him : and 
 whatever belongs either to all in common, or particular 
 persons as their own propriety, should not be altered, 
 but made use of accordingly f " Now no man can say 
 that he has any thing his own by a right of nature* $ but 
 either by an ancient immemorial seizure, as those who 
 first planted uninhabited, countries ; or, secondly by 
 conquest, as those who have got things by the right of 
 the sword 5 or else by some law, compact, agreement, 
 or lot. It is by some of these means, that the people 
 inhabiting Arpinum h and Tusculum came to have those 
 
 hends under it justice strictly so called, and liberality or 
 kindness one to another ; of which he begins to treat, c. 14. 
 
 f The word deinde doth not denote a second duty of justice, 
 but only the second part of the first duty, of doing no wrong. 
 The meaning is, that of things which are common, he should 
 content himself with his reasonable share ; and those which 
 are appropriate to particular persons, he should suffer to re- 
 main in the state they are without disturbance. The word 
 suits signifies here, as in many other places, the same thing 
 with pioprius. 
 
 m He supposes all things at first to have been common, like 
 the room in a theatre, or other such place ; and, as in these, 
 he who first gets a place has a right to it, and cannot be fairly 
 turned out of it ; so he imagines it to have been in old time. 
 Not that the seizure of itself gives a right, but the tacit agree- 
 ment amongst mankind, that what any man had first possessed 
 himself of should be his own property. See Grot. JOe Jure B. 
 cw P. book ii. c. 2. 
 
 h Cicero himself was born at Arpinum, a mean place in 
 Italy ; hence, by his enemies in contempt, called Arpinas. 
 Me ha4 a noble country-house at Tusculum, another town not 
 far from Rome, whither he often retired, and where he wrote 
 £v$ bocks of philosophy, thence called his Tusculan Questions, 
 
chap. vn. 
 
 OFFICES. 21 
 
 lands, which are now called theirs; and the same may 
 be said as to private mens estates'. However, since 
 at present, by some of these ways, each particular 
 man has his personal possessions, out of that which 
 by nature was common to all, it is but reason that 
 each should hold what is now his own; which if any 
 one endeavour to take away from him, he directly 
 breaks la upon common justice k , and violates the rights 
 of human society. " But seeing (as is excellently said 
 by Plato) we are not born for ourselves alone 5 but 
 that our native country, our friends and relations, have 
 a just claim and title to some part of us j" and seeing 
 whatsoever is created on earth, was merely designed 
 (as the Stoics will have it) for the service of men ; and 
 men themselves for the service, good, and assistance 
 of one another; we certainly in this should be follow- 
 ers of nature 1 , and second her intentions > and by 
 producing all that lies within the reach of our power 
 for the general interest, by mutually giving and re- 
 ceiving good turns, by our knowledge, industry, riches, 
 or other means, should endeavour to keep up that love 
 and society, that should be amongst men. Now the 
 great foundation of justice is faithfulness™, which con- 
 He therefore uses the examples of these two places, becau&e 
 his son was acquainted with thera. 
 
 ' Descriptio signifies a draught of any land, or the like, in. 
 order to every man's having his due share : the meaning is, 
 that private men came to their estates by the like sort of dis- 
 tribution or allotment, as towns and cities did. 
 
 k Quicquid jure possidetur (says Quintil.) injuria aufertur ; 
 whatever any man is in the rightful possession of, cannot be 
 taken from him without injustice ; since every one then has a 
 right to that, which is now his own, though it were originally 
 common, no one without injuring him can dispossess him of it 
 again. 
 
 1 He now comes to the second duty of justice, which is, to 
 do all the good we can,- as the first was to do no wrong. 
 
 m Justice is the rendering to every man his due ; which no 
 one can do without being true to his word, and conscientiously 
 performing all promises, oaths, bargains, &c. For he that 
 promises, &c. to another, makes himself a debtor of some- 
 thing to him, which he may demand as a kind of due. It is 
 the business of faithfulness to see this paid : so that justice is, 
 as it were, built upon faithfulness, as its basis and foundation.. 
 
J« TULLYS book i. 
 
 sists in being constantly firm to your word, and a con- 
 scientious performance of all compacts and bargains : 
 whereupon, for this once, let us venture to follow the 
 opinion of the Stoics, those mighty admirers of deriva- 
 tions, and believe that fides [faithfulness] is so called, 
 though perhaps it may seem a little too far fetched, 
 quia fiat quod dictum est, because what was promised 
 is performed. The vice that is opposite to justice is 
 injustice", of w,hich there are two sorts: the first con- 
 sists in the actual doing an injury to another; the se- 
 cond, in tamely looking on while he is injured, and 
 not helping and defending him, though we are able. 
 For he that injuriously falls upon another, whether 
 prompted by rage, or other violent passion, does as it 
 were leap at the throat of his companion 5 and he that 
 refuses to help him when injured, and to ward off the 
 wrong if it lies in his power, is as plainly guilty of 
 baseness and injustice, as though he had deserted his 
 father, his friends, or his native country. Now that 
 former injustice , which consists in the wilful and actual 
 wronging another, has oftentimes no other cause but 
 fear; when he, who designedly does a man an injury, 
 is afraid lest himself should be forced to undergo one, 
 if he does not secure himself by doing it beforehand. 
 But generally speaking, the great source and fountain 
 of all such injustice is the satisfying some irregular and 
 exorbitant appetite p 5 and in a more especial manner, 
 the desire of riches - 7 of which we shall therefore say 
 something in particular. 
 
 w( n Having laid down the two great duties of justice, and the 
 foundation of it ; he now proceeds to its opposite vice, injus- 
 tice, of which there are two sorts, and the causes of it. 
 
 * The causes of the first sort of injustice, viz. of commission, 
 first, fear. Not but that it is lawful, if I see another taking 
 up a sword, and plainly perceive he is going to stab me, to 
 stab him beforehand to prevent my own death, if I cannot 
 possibly escape any other way. But this must be very certain 
 and apparent ; a bare fear or suspicion that another designs 
 me an injury, not being a sufficient reason why I should do 
 him one. 
 
 p A second cause of this injustice, the satisfying of some 
 irregular desire ; as, first, that of money, of which in tb* 
 ne^t chapter, 
 
ciur. viii. OFFICES. 2J 
 
 CHAP. VIII. 
 
 The desire of riches, which is one cause of injustice, 
 whence it proceeds. It is allowable enough, so long as 
 it does not draw men to the injuring of others. The 
 desire of honours, &;c. another cause of injustice. It 
 usually is found in men of the greatest minds. There 
 is a difference to be made between those injuries that 
 are done hastily and in a passion, and those that pro- 
 ceed from premeditated malice. 
 
 AXICIIES then are most commonly desired, either to 
 supply us with the necessaries of life, or furnish us 
 With the pleasures and conveniences of it; or else, as 
 it often is observed to happen in persons of great and 
 aspiring minds, as a means of obtaining an interest 
 in the public, and a power of obliging and gratifying 
 one's friends; to which purpose was that saying of the 
 late Marcus Crassus q , that whoever designed to be a 
 leading man in the commonwealth, ought never to 
 think he had estate enough, till he could maintain an 
 army r with its yearly revenue. Others take pleasure 
 in splendour and magnificence, in a handsome, noble, 
 and plentiful w r ay of living : all which things have 
 begot an insatiable greediness after money, without 
 which they can never be supported and maintained. 
 
 * A noble and wealthy, but very covetous Roman, twice 
 Consul with Porapey the Great, whom Veil. Paterc. calls lnvic- 
 tum par Consulum. He was made Proconsul of Apulia, where 
 he quelled Spartacus, ringleader of the slaves, and put an end w 
 to the servile war. At last he, with Pompey and Caesar, di- 
 vided the whole Roman empire between them, and made the 
 first triumvirate. Here the East falling to his share, he made 
 war upon the Parthians, out of a desire of money ; but was 
 conquered and slain by them, and had melted gold poured 
 down the throat of his dead body. His life is written by 
 Plutarch. 
 
 r A Roman army was four legions, each consisting of six 
 thousand foot, and three hundred horse ; two of these legions 
 were given to each Consul every year. The monthly pay of an 
 army came to about 25,000 pounds ; by which it appears what 
 an estate Crassus desired to keep one whole year. 
 
M TULLY'S book i. 
 
 Not but that a moderate desire of riches, and better- 
 ing a man's estate, so long as it abstains from oppress- 
 ing of others, is allowable enough - } but a very great 
 care ought always to be taken, that we be not drawn 
 to any injustice by it. There is another desire* that 
 makes men as apt to be forgetful of justice, as that 
 after riches $ the thirst, I mean, of empire, glory, 
 honours, &c. For that saying of Ennius 1 , There is 
 no inviolable faith or friendship in the matter of a 
 kingdom, though applied by him to that one case only, 
 is yet fully as true in a great many others; for where- 
 ever the subject of contention is such, as that only one 
 party can meet with success, and the rest must fall 
 short of what they desire; things are usually carried 
 to so great a height, as that it is very difficult not to 
 break in upon faith and friendship. This hath appear- 
 ed but too manifestly of late, in that rash and most 
 impudent attempt of Caesar's" ; who has broken through 
 all those ties and obligations, that either by gods or 
 men could be laid upon him, for the compassing and 
 getting of that dominion to himself, which he had 
 vainly proposed in his depraved imagination. But in 
 this case, it is one very great unhappiness, that the 
 thirst after honour, empire, power, &c. falls most upon 
 men of the greatest souls and most exalted natures 5 
 wherefore the greater care ought to be taken, that no- 
 thing of offence be committed in this kind*. Now it 
 
 * A second desire, that is very often the cause of injustice, 
 is, that of honour, glory, &c. 
 
 * A famous ancient Latin poet, born at Rudiae, a town in 
 Calabria, thence by our author called Rudius 7w?}io, in his ora- 
 tion pro Archia. He was very familiar with African us Major, 
 the wise Laelius, ato Censorius, &c. which last brought him 
 first to Rome. His works are lost, except some fragments pre- 
 served by Cicero and others. 
 
 u Julius Caesar, who, ambitious of the empire, raised a civil 
 war against the senate and Pompey the Great ; whom he con- 
 quered in the Pharsaliah field. See an account by himself in 
 his Commentaries. 
 
 * For we should increase our care according to the greatness 
 of our danger ; and where we are likely to be most violently 
 assaulted, there we should place the strongest guard. 
 
chap. ix. OFFICES 
 
 makes a great difference in all acts of injustice, whe- 
 ther tlitcy proceed from some violent passion, which 
 is for the most part of short continuance, or are done 
 with design and previous deliberation : for those that 
 are the effects of a sudden gust of passion, ought nor. 
 to be esteemed of so heinous a nature, as those that 
 proceed from premeditated malice. And this may 
 suffice for the first sort of injustice, which consists in 
 the actual doing of wrong, and the causes of it. 
 
 CHAP. IX. 
 
 Injustice of omission, and the causes of it. Those are 
 guilty of it, who spend their whole lives in study and 
 contemplation, as some philosophers have done. Justice 
 ought to proceed from choice. Those who mind nothing 
 hut their own business are guilty of this injustice. Self" 
 love hinders men from seeing their duty. An excellent 
 rule for the avoiding of all injustice, 
 
 As for the second y, which only consists in seeing 
 another injured, and being wanting to our duty, by 
 not defending him j the causes of that are wont to be 
 several. For some are afraid of offending others, or 
 of bringing a trouble and charge upon themselves : 
 others are negligent, idle, or mean-spirited : and a 
 third sort there is, who are so taken up with their own 
 concerns, that they have no time left to regard the op- 
 pressed, whom yet it is their duty to save and protect. 
 I am therefore of opinion, that Plato's consequence 
 will hardly hold good, where, speaking about the phi- 
 losophers, he says, " they are wholly taken up in 
 " the seeking out of truth, and perfectly neglect and 
 "make light of those things, which the rest of the 
 " world are so eager after, and so contend about; and 
 
 y He comes now to the second sort of injustice, that of 
 omission ; the causes of which are, first, fear of {jiving offeno , 
 •£ charge, Sec. 
 
 D 
 
26 TULLY'S 
 
 BOOK I, 
 
 " that therefore they are just.'* This, I say, I am afraid 
 is a bad consequence 5 for though, it is true, they 
 keep the first sort of justice 2 , inasmuch as they actually 
 do no wrong; yet they run perfectly counter to the 
 other; for being engaged in their learning and studies, 
 they abandon their friends to be injured by others, 
 "whom in justice they ought to have protected and de- 
 fended. So that it is believed, they hardly ever trou- 
 ble themselves so far, as at all to intermeddle with the 
 business of the public, if it was not altogether, as it 
 were, forced upon them. But it were a great deal 
 better would they do it voluntarily; for an action, 
 though honest 8 , is not therefore truly virtuous, unless it 
 be done out of choice, and with a good-will/ There 
 are others b yet, who out of a desire of improving their 
 own estates, or else a morose and unsociable sort of 
 temper, cry, " they meddle with nobody's business but 
 their own," that so they may seem to be men of strict 
 honesty, and to injure nobody; and they do indeed 
 avoid the one sort of injustice, but directly run themselves 
 into the other ; for they desert the common good and 
 society of mankind, while they bestow neither study, 
 pains, nor money toward the preservation pf it. /Thus 
 have I laid down the two sorts of injustice, and pointed 
 out to you the causes of each ; and have also endea- 
 voured to explain the true nature and extent of jus- 
 tice ; from all which account it will be easy to judge, 
 unless we are extremely fond of our own ease, what 
 those several duties are, which at several times are re- 
 
 * In c. 21. he puts two cases, wherein he thinks these 
 men may be excusable : 1. If their genius lie very much to- 
 ward learning, &c. 2. If they are of weak constitutions, so 
 as to be unable to meddle with public affairs ; as Scipio's son 
 was. 
 
 * The moralists make a distinction between doing an honest 
 action, and doing it honestly, honestum, and honeste agere. He 
 that pays another his due, does an honest action ; but he does 
 not do it honestly, if against his will, and by compulsion of 
 laws. 
 
 b Another cause of this sort of injustice, a morose unsocia- 
 ble temper, &e. 
 
chap, ix, OFFICES. 27 
 
 quired of us. I say, unless we are fond of our own 
 ease - y for the truth of it is, it is a troublesome thing to 
 be concerned in the business of other people ; however 
 old Chremes c in Terence thinks, u that he ought to be 
 concerned for the good of all men." But be that as it 
 will, forasmuch as the success of our own affairs, 
 whether good or ill, more nearly concerns us, and 
 makes us more sensible, than that of another's, which 
 appears to us small, as a thing at a great distance; 
 therefore we pass a quite different judgment upon the 
 one and the other. And, upon this account, it is a very 
 good rule that is given by some men, " that we should 
 never venture upon any action, of which we doubt 
 whether it is honest or dishonest." For honesty quickly 
 would shew itself by its own native brightness 5 and 
 the doubting about it is a plain intimation, that at 
 least we suspected some injustice when we did it. 
 
 ' Terence's Heautontimoroumenos, act i. scene 1. Chremes 
 expostulating with Menedemus for working so very hard, the 
 other asks him, What he has to do to meddle with another's 
 business ; to which he answers, Homo sum, humani nihil a me 
 alienumpuio; I am a man, and accordingly ought to be con- 
 cerned in whatever relates to the welfare of any man ; which 
 good-natured sentence, St. Austin tells us, Was applauded by 
 the whole theatre. We are all fellow-members, and, as we ob- 
 served, c. 7. born for the service, good, and assistance of one 
 another, it being the fundamental principle of the law of nature, 
 that every man should seek the good and welfare of the whole 
 society, and every member of it, as well as his own private and 
 particular interest. Omnis homo est omni homini proximus, 
 nee ulla cogitanda est longinqnitas generis, ubi est natura com- 
 muni$, says the forecited Father. 
 
2S TULLY'S 
 
 CHAP. X, 
 
 BOOK I, 
 
 Justice is altered upon an alteration of circumstances; 
 and what was our duty in one case to do, in other cir- 
 cumstances it is our duty to avoid. Promises are not 
 to be stood to in several cases, as, if they are prejudicial; 
 if made through fear, S;c. A close adhering to the 
 words of a law, or bargain, is a means of being unjust : 
 craft in such cases to be diligently avoided. 
 
 JljUT here it is observable, that the limits of justice* 
 are not so fixed, but that they may be altered upon an 
 alteration of the circumstances; so that what at one 
 time appears to be the duty of an honest and good 
 man, at another is altered and becomes the quite con- 
 trary ; to deliver up a trust, for example, or perform 
 a promise, and other things relating to truth and faith- 
 fulness, are duties which justice itself will allow us, in 
 several cases, to neglect or omit e : for respect must 
 be had to those general rules we before laid down, as 
 the ground and foundation of all justice. First, that 
 no injury be done to any other : and, secondly, that 
 we make it our earnest endeavour to promote the good 
 and interest of all mankind : so that our duty is not 
 always the same, but various, according to the variety 
 of circumstances f . There may be a contract or pro- 
 
 4 Having given an account of the nature of justice, and 
 injustice, with the causes of this; he proceeds to shew, how in 
 several cases, that which is usually a part of justice, upon an 
 alteration of circumstances, becomes the contrary. For as a 
 thing may be pleasing to the palate, or healthful to the body 
 in some circumstances, which is not so absolutely ; as a cup of 
 bad water to one in extreme thirst ; so may an action which 
 generally speaking is vicious and unreasonable, as the break- 
 ing one's promise, or the like, in some certain cases become 
 honest and agreeable to right reason. 
 
 « The word migrare signifies transitively here, as in some 
 other places of this author : so migrare communia jute signifies 
 to transgress or violate them. 
 
 f By ea tempora, I suppose, he means those cases or cir- 
 cumstances ; for so he often uses the word in this work. He 
 had just been saying, that nothing must be done contrary to 
 the two great rul«s of justice before given , and then he adds^ 
 
CHAP. X, 
 
 OFFICES. 29 
 
 mise, for instance, the performance of which would 
 bring very great damage, either to the person himself 
 that made it, or the other party to whom it was made. 
 Thus, had Neptune not granted what he promised to 
 Theseus g , Theseus had not suffered the loss of his son 
 Hippolytus. For, as the story goes, Neptune having 
 granted him any three wishes, for the third he once 
 in a very great passion desired the death of his own 
 son j by obtaining of which he was afterwards brought 
 into the greatest afflictions. Such promises therefore 
 are not to be kept 11 , as will but bring a mischief on 
 him they were made to ; no more are those which 
 tend to the damage of the promiser* himself, more 
 than to the profit of him they were promised to.— 
 Again, even justice k itself requires us to perform a 
 
 Ea cum tempora commutantnr, that is, when the case is such, as 
 that the keeping one's promise, or the like, would be acting 
 contrary to one of those rules, that is, would be a great injury 
 to him that made it, or to him to whom it was made, as he ex- 
 plains himself afterwards ; then our duty is altered, and we are 
 bound not to keep it; because if we should, it would be a 
 breach of the fundamental rule of that virtue. This is the 
 first case wherein a man is not obliged to be as good as his 
 promise. 
 
 8 See c. 25. book iii. 
 
 h Because the keeping of them would be an offence against 
 the first rule of justice, not to do any. wrong: and it may be 
 supposed the person to whom they were made, had he seen 
 such a mischief ensuing, would not have demanded it. See 
 c. 24, 25. book iii. 
 
 1 Because it is presumed the person who made such a 
 promise, had he thought of such a damage likely to come of 
 it, would not have made it. We promise as men who are not 
 infallible, and cannot provide against every thing that may 
 happen ; wherefore we are supposed not to promise any further 
 than what we now know ; and should any extraordinary thing 
 happen in the mean time, it is to be taken as a thing which we 
 tacitly excepted. But here we must proceed very warily and 
 cautiously : this will hardly hold good in the case of a promis- 
 sory oath, where God himself is called to witness. See Grot, 
 de Jure B. ac P. Puffendorf, fyc. upon this whole subject. 
 
 k Another case wherein a man is dispensed from keeping his 
 promise, is, when some greater duty requires his attendance in 
 the mean time. 
 
 D3 
 
30 TULLY'S book Mi 
 
 greater before a lesser duty : you promise, for example, 
 a friend of yours, to assist him in a cause that he has 
 depending, but your son grows dangerously sick in 
 the mean time; here it would be no breach of duty 1 
 in you, if you should not make good what you pro- 
 mised to your friend ; and he himself rather would be 
 much to blame, should he complain of being disap- 
 pointed by you. Farther, it is plain to any one's 
 sense, that such sort of promises can never be binding 
 as are made by people over-awed by fear, or over- 
 reached by deceit" 1 ; most of which are void by the Prae- 
 tor's edicts n , and some of them even by the laws them- 
 selves. But another great spring from which injuries 
 arise, is some quirk or cavil, and an over-subtle and 
 malicious interpretation of the laws ; from whence 
 that saying, Summum jus summa injuria, the height of 
 justice is the height of roguery, is now become a daily 
 and common proverb among us. There are frequent 
 examples of this to be met with in our public trans- 
 actions ; as that of him, for example, who concluding 
 a truce with the enemy for thirty days, made continual 
 incursions into their territory by night; because, for- 
 sooth, the truce was not made for so many nights, but 
 only so many days. Just such a crafty and pitiful 
 trick, if the story be true, was that notable cunning of 
 Quintus Fabius Labeo's; or whoever the man was, 
 for I have it only by hear-say, who being by the se- 
 nate appointed arbitrator in a difference between those 
 of Nola and Naples about their bounds; when he 
 
 1 Because to take care of a son's life, is a greater duty than 
 to assist a friend : and therefore ought to take place before it. 
 
 m Another case wherein a man is not obliged to perform his 
 promise is, when he was forced to make ifr through fear, or 
 drawn to it by some deceit. See the forecited authors. 
 
 » The laws being delivered only in general terms, and not 
 being able to descend to all particular cases, it was in the 
 power of the Praetor or Judge to supply that defect by his 
 edicts and authority. 
 
 * Two cities in Italy, about fourteen miles distant from one 
 another. 
 
cuxw xi. OFFICES. 31 
 
 came to the place that was appointed for the treaty, 
 took aside the commissioners of either party, and ex- 
 horted them privately not to be too eager and greedy 
 in their demands, but rather to take up and content 
 themselves with less, than pretend to any more than 
 what was honestly their due. Both parties did so ac- 
 cording to his desire, so that a good quantity of ground 
 was left between them ; this he even goes and adjudges 
 to the Romans, leaving that to each party which they 
 themselves had demanded. And is not this now to de- 
 ceive and cheat, rather than to judge? In all cases 
 therefore such subtle kind of tricks should be diligently 
 avoided. 
 
 CHAP. XL 
 
 Justice to be kept towards all sorts of men. Bounds to be 
 observed in punishing those that have injured us. Laws 
 of war to be strictly observed. Two sorts of disputing, 
 by reason and by the sword; the latter is allowable, 
 when we cannot obtain what is our right by the former. 
 What ought to be the end of making war. How it 
 should be carried on. The strictness of the old Romans 
 in observing the laws of war. A story of the elder 
 Cato to that purpose. 
 
 X HERE are certain duties* or offices also to be strictly 
 observed, even towards those that have injured us; for 
 we ought not to go beyond such and such bounds, in 
 exacting revenge and punishment of another: in 
 which particular it may, perhaps, be enough to make 
 him that has wronged us repent of the wrong done ; 
 so that both he himself may abstain from the like, 
 and others may be discouraged from injuring us for 
 the future. There are certain peculiar laws of war q 
 
 p After having discoursed of the nature of justice, &c. he 
 proceeds to shew, that we ought to practise it towards all sorts 
 of people ; as, first, even towards those who have wronged us, 
 
 * In the second place we ought to shew justice to our ene- 
 
3* TULLYS 
 
 BOOK U 
 
 also, which are of all things most strictly to be ob- 
 served in the commonwealth - y for there being two sorts 
 of disputing in the world, the one by reason and the 
 other by open force; and the former of these being 
 that which is agreeable to the nature of man, and the 
 latter to that of brutes ; when we cannot obtain what 
 is our right by the one, we must even of necessity have 
 recourse to the other. It is allowable therefore to un- 
 dertake wars, but it must always be with design of ob- 
 taining a secure peace. And when we have gotten the 
 better of our enemies, we should rest content with the 
 victory alone, and shew ourselves merciful and kind 
 to them afterwards, unless they are such as have been 
 very cruel, and committed inhuman barbarities in the 
 war. Thus our forefathers took into their city the 
 JSquians, Volscians, Sabines% and others whom they 
 had subdued 5 whereas Carthage and Numantia 9 they 
 entirely destroyed. I could wish I might not add 
 Corinth* too 5 but I believe they had something in their 
 eye when they did it, and that more especially the si- 
 tuation of the place ; which being so very convenient 
 as it was, they were afraid lest it might be at one time 
 or other an encouragement to revolt. In my opinion 
 it is always our duty to do what we can for a fair and 
 safe peace j in which thing if people would have 
 
 mies ; first, by not entering upon a war, but upon very just 
 and good grounds. Secondly, by carrying it on fairly, and 
 being ready to accept of a reasonable peace. Thirdly, by 
 shewing mercy to the conquered, after we have gotten the vic- 
 tory. The words therefore Inter arma silent leges , must be taken 
 in a very restrained sense, so as to mean the civil and judiciary 
 laws, not those of nature and justice towards enemies. See 
 Grot. Prole gom. ad Lib. de Jure JB. ac P. 
 
 r Several little nations in Italy, all conquered by the Romans. 
 
 8 The former a city in Afric, the latter in Spain ; both taken 
 by Scipio Africanus the younger. 
 
 * A famous and rich city in Achaia, placed exactly in that 
 neck of land, which separates Peloponnesus, or the Morea, 
 from the rest of Greece. Hither St. Paul wrote two of his 
 epistles. It was taken by Mummius, the Roman Consul, and 
 rased to the ground, because of some affront the Corinthians 
 had given to the Roman ambassadors. 
 
ciiAr. xi. OFFICES, S3 
 
 hearkened unto me u , we might at this time have seen 
 the Republic, though, it is true, I cannot say in a flou- 
 rishing condition, yet certainly not as at present we 
 perceive it, entirely subverted and fallen into ruins.-— 
 And as we are bound to be merciful to those whom 
 we have actually conquered ; so should those also be 
 received into favour, who have laid down their arms, 
 and thrown themselves wholly upon the general's 
 mercy; and that even though the breach be made in 
 their city walls. Our good forefathers were most strict- 
 ly just as to this particular ; the custom of those times 
 making him the patron of a conquered city or people, 
 who first received them into the faith and allegiance of 
 the people of Rome. In short, the whole right and 
 all the duties of war are most religiously set down in 
 the Fecial 34 laws; out of which it is manifest, that ne- 
 ▼er any war can be justly undertaken, unless satisfac- 
 tion have been first demanded, and proclamation of it 
 made publicly beforehand. Poppilius was commander 
 in one of the provinces, and Cato's son a young soldier 
 uryler him ; and Poppilius thinking fit to disband on© 
 of his legions, it happened to be the same in which 
 the young man was, who therefore was dismissed 
 among the rest of the soldiers : but having a mind 
 to see more of the war, he notwithstanding this con- 
 tinued still in the army. Hereupon old Cato writes a 
 letter to Poppilius, and therein desires him, " That if 
 " he suffered his son to remain in the army, he would 
 
 u In the civil war between Caesar and Pompey, Cicero al- 
 ways laboured for a peace and agreement between the parties ; 
 but to no purpose. 
 
 x The Feciales were a sort of priests or heralds among the 
 Romans, established by Numa, whose business it was to deter- 
 mine all cases about the lawfulness of war ; about leagues, 
 ambassadors, &c. They were sent to demand satisfaction of 
 the people that had offended ; they denounced or proclaimed 
 wars ; and, in short, nothing- of that nature could be done 
 without their advice. Cicero gives us an account of their du- 
 ties in his Be Leg, ii. 9. Fccderum, pacis, held, induciarum 
 judices Feciales sunto t Sfc t 
 
M TULLY'S book i. 
 
 f f give him his military oath y again; forasmuch as the 
 5/ former being void by his disbanding, he could not 
 *' any longer fight lawfully with an enemy :" so reli- 
 giously careful they were in those days, of doing no- 
 thing that is contrary to the laws of war. There is ex- 
 tant still an epistle of Cato the father to his son, in 
 which he tells him, " That he had heard of his being 
 €f disbanded by the Consul, when he was a soldier in 
 " Macedonia, in the war with Perseus 2 : and therefore 
 u he advises him not by any means to intermeddle in a 
 €t battle ; because, he says, it is unlawful for one that 
 " is no longer a soldier to engage with the enemy." 
 
 CHAP. XIL 
 
 The civility of the old Romans towards their enemies in 
 giving them the mildest names. Some wars are only 
 for empire, others for safety ; difference of conduct to 
 be observed in each. A noble and generous saying of 
 King Pyrrhus. 
 
 AND here I cannot but observe moreover, that he 
 who is properly called Perduellis, a stubborn enemy, 
 had by our ancestors the name of Hostis given him ; 
 the gentleness of the word somewhat lessening the 
 foulness and odium of the thing: for hostis, an ene- 
 my, among them signified the same thing that pere- 
 grinus, a stranger, does now amongst us ; as appears 
 from the laws a of the XII Tables, and therein such 
 
 y An oath that was given to the soldiers, when they went out 
 to war, called Sacr amentum, by which they were obliged to be 
 faithful to their general, &c. See the form of it in Livy. 
 
 z The last king of Macedonia, beaten and led in triumph by 
 Paulus ^Emilius, the Roman consul, about the year of Rome 
 586. See Plutarch's Life of ^Emilius. 
 
 a The body of the ancient Roman laws, which were gathered 
 from the wisest laws of all the Grecians, by the Decemviri 
 created for that purpose, about the year of Rome 301. See 
 the history of them in Livy, book iii. c, 33, 34. where he calls 
 tYiemfons omnis publici, privatique juris ; and our author in his 
 
chap. xii. OFFICES. 3 > 
 
 sort of expressions as these, Status dies cum hoste h ; 
 and Adversus hostem ceterna auctoritas. What greater 
 courtesy could be shewn than this, to call even an ene- 
 my by only the softest and most obliging names ? 
 Though the word is now altered, I confess, from that 
 mild to an harsher sense -, custom having changed it 
 from what it first properly signified, a stranger, to de- 
 note such a one as bears arms against us. We have 
 told you already what previous causes and conditions 
 there should be, before any war can be lawful and just ; 
 the same are required even in those wars also, which 
 are undertaken merely for glory and empire; but then 
 all contests f>f this latter sort should be carried on 
 with less heat and animosities ; for as in the differences 
 that happen among citizens, we make a distinction be- 
 tween a violent enemy and a generous rival, in one 
 case nothing but a title of honour, in the other our 
 lives and reputations being concerned 5 so did our an- 
 cestors do in their wars. That which they waged with 
 the Cimbers d and Cehibers e , was managed as with 
 hateful and implacable enemies ; the question then 
 being, not whether of the two should remain a con- 
 queror, but whether should remain a people at all ; 
 
 first book de Orat. prefers them for wisdom before whole libra- 
 ries of philosophers. 
 
 b These are the words of two laws taken out of the XII Tables. 
 See Charondas de Leg. XII. Tab. The meaning of the first is, 
 that whoever has got any business at law with a stranger, 
 shall appoint a day beforehand for the decision of it, that so 
 he may have time to make his appearance. Of the second, 
 though a stranger had possessed a man's esfate never so long, 
 he should have no title to it by way of prescription ; but the 
 rightful owner, after jver so many years, should have autho- 
 rity and power to demand it of him again. 
 
 • In the foregoing chapter. 
 
 A A barbarous and savage northern people, who made an in- 
 road into Italy, and put the Roman state into a very great fear ; 
 but at last were routed by Marius and Catullus. See Plutarch's 
 Life of Marius. 
 
 c A valiant and hardy people, who from that part of Gaul 
 which was called Celtic, near the river Ligeris, went into Spain, 
 and there settled upon the river lberus ; whence called Celti- 
 beri. Numantia was their capital city. 
 
36 TULLY'S book i. 
 
 whereas those with the Latins, Carthaginians, Pyr- 
 rhus f , &c. were only quarrels about honour and 
 dominion. The Carthaginians were perfidious and 
 treacherous; Hannibal their great commander cruel; 
 but all the rest more faithful and merciful. That 
 speech of Pyrrhus is indeed very extraordinary upon 
 restoring the captives, when he says, 
 
 I neither gold of you nor price demands : 
 
 Nor will I chaffer, but fight out the war : 
 
 Let steel, not gold, to each their fate decide. 
 
 Whether to you, or me dame Fortune will 
 
 The vict'ry grant ; or what the chance of war, 
 
 Shall courage try. And this I add withal, 
 
 That freely I their liberties restore 
 
 To these brave men, whose lives the war has spar'd > 
 
 Freely I give ; do you as freely take, 
 
 I* th* name of th* mighty gods, / 
 
 A truly royal and princely saying, and worthy of the 
 glorious family of the iEacidae h . 
 
 f A king of Epirus, who made war upon the Romans, and 
 routed them several times, for the sake of the Taren tines, who 
 called him to their assistance. His life is written by Plutarch. 
 
 £ This is quoted out of the poet Ennius. 
 
 h The descendants of i^Eacus, one of the judges of the dead ; 
 whom the poets make son of Jupiter, and father of Peleus, 
 who was father of Achilles j from whom this Pyrrhus of Epirus 
 was derived. 
 
Bkr. xin. OFFICES 37 
 
 CHAP. XIII. 
 
 Particular persons bound in justice to keep the promise* 
 made to an enemy. The example of Regulus. The 
 story of ten who did the contrary. How punished by 
 the Romans; particularly one who thought to have 
 escaped by a quirk. A noble instance of the Roman 
 justice to King Pyrrhus. — Justice to be kept towards 
 the meanest slaves. Two ways whereby injuries are 
 done, fraud and force. Fraud the more odious. To be 
 a rogue under the mask of honesty, the greatest of 
 vilianies. 
 
 IT is also the duty of particular persons*, if at any 
 time forced by the necessity of their circumstances, 
 they have made any promise or oath to an enemy, af- 
 terwards to see that they perform it faithfully. Thus 
 Regulus k was taken in the first Punic war by the 
 Carthaginians, and sent by them to Rome about an 
 exchange of prisoners, upon solemn oath given thai 
 he would return to them again 5 first then, as soon as 
 he was come to Rome, he advised the Senate against 
 making such an exchange, and when he had done so, 
 though begged on to stay by his friends and relations, 
 rather returned to a certain punishment than his oath 
 should be broken, though made to an enemy. But 
 Hannibal in the second Carthaginian war, after our 
 fatal defeat at Cannae 1 , sent ten to Rome under the 
 same obligation of returning again, unless by their 
 interest they could prevail with the Senate to redeem 
 their prisoners 5 who were all by the censors deprived 
 of their privileges as freemen, and tied to pay such and 
 
 » Thus far in general of public justice to an enemy : he now 
 proceeds to say, that justice obliges particular persons too> if 
 at any time they have made any promises to their enemies, 
 afterwards to perform them faithfully. 
 
 k See book iii. c. 27- 
 
 1 A little village in Apuiia, where the Romans under the 
 conduct of Paulus and Varro, were Overthrown by Hannibal^ 
 the Carthaginian general. 
 
 £ 
 
38 TULLYS 
 
 BOOK X. 
 
 such duties to the public as long as they lived, for not 
 being true to their oaths and obligations. There was 
 one of them thought by a trick to have eluded the 
 force of his oath, but was nevertheless punished for all 
 that : his shift was this : Hannibal had let them depart 
 his camp upon the condition aforementioned; when 
 therefore they had gotten a little way out of it, what 
 does he do, but come back to it again, under colour 
 of having forgot to take something, I know not what, 
 with him : and then away he goes out again, discharged, 
 as he thought, from his obligation of returning. And 
 so it is very true he was in word, but not in reality; 
 for in all such oaths we are not to attend to the mere 
 form of words, but the true design and intention of 
 them. But the greatest example of justice to an enemy 
 was shewn by our ancestors towards King Pyrrhus: 
 there came a deserter out of Pyrrhus's camp" 1 , and 
 offered the Senate to dispatch him with poison; which 
 they and Fabricius were so far from accepting of, that 
 they gave him up again as a traitor to his master. Thus 
 we may see, that they would not allow any unjust way 
 of dealing, though for the death of a powerful and in- 
 vading adversary: and so much for the duties required 
 in war. There is one part of justice 11 remaining be- 
 hind, and which ought by no means to be forgotten by 
 us 5 1 mean that towards the lowest and meanest sort 
 of people : and these are more especially those we call 
 our slaves; in relation to whom, it is a very good rule 
 that is given by some men, that we should use them 
 no otherwise than we do our day-labourers, make them 
 first do their work, and then pay them honestly what 
 they have earned. In fine, to close up this discourse 
 of justice, there are two ways or methods, whereby 
 one man may injure or oppress another j the one is 
 fraud and subtlety, the other open force and violence 5 
 
 » See c. 4. and 22. of book Hi. 
 
 » He has shewn there are rules of justice to be observed 
 towards those that have injured us, and our very enemies: here 
 be proceeds to a third sort of people they are to be observed 
 towards, viz. slaves. 
 
CHAF. XIV. 
 
 OFFICES. 39 
 
 the former of which is esteemed the part of a fox, and 
 the latter of a lion ; both of them certainly very un- 
 worthy of a reasonable creature, though fraud, I think, 
 is the more odious of the two. But of all injustice, 
 theirs is certainly of the deepest dye, who make it 
 their business to appear honest men, even whilst they 
 are practising the greatest of villanies. 
 
 CHAP. XIV. 
 
 Of liberality, the second part of general justice. Three 
 cautions to be observed concerning it. It is not libera- 
 lity, to bestow upon one what is wrongfully taken from 
 another ; nor what ought to have rather been given to 
 our relations ; nor to give out of vain-glory. Bounty 
 should be proportioned to the merit of the receiver^ 
 which is of several sorts. 
 
 We have now gone through with the subject of 
 justice ; it remains in the next place, to go on according 
 to our method proposed, that we say something like- 
 wise of bounty and liberality , than which there is 
 nothing more nearly allied to the nature of man. But 
 then we must observe these following cautions; first, 
 that we take care in all acts of bounty, that they be 
 not prejudicial to those we would oblige by them, nor 
 to any other body. Secondly, that we do not in our 
 bounty and liberality go beyond our estates. And, 
 thirdly, that we duly proportion our kindness, ac- 
 cording to every man's merit and deserts. And first* 
 
 • In c. 7. he divided justice, taken in its largest extent, into 
 justice strictly so called, and liberality ; having now finished his 
 discourse upon the former of these, he proceeds to the latter 
 in this chapter, about which he first lays down three cautions. 
 
 p As those who lend or give money to young spendthrifts, 
 to help them forward and encourage them in their ill courses, 
 or the like; which is really a very great injury to them. 
 
 * Having laid down his three cautions, he proceeds in order 
 to say something upon each of them, I take the id enim 
 
 S2 
 
40 TULLY'S 
 
 book r, 
 
 of the former, which is grounded upon the great and 
 fundamental principle of all justice, to which this duty 
 in all its particular instances should be referred. — 
 For he who pretending to do one a kindness, does that 
 which is really a prejudice to him, is indeed so far 
 from being kind and obliging, as that he ought to be 
 counted a most pernicious flatterer; and to do any 
 manner of injury to one, that you may shew your ge- 
 nerosity and bounty to another, is just one and the 
 same sort of roguery and injustice, as to enrich your- 
 self by the spoils of your neighbour. Yet this is the 
 fault of a great many people, and especially those 
 who are desirous of glory, to take away from some, 
 that which justly belongs to them, that so they may 
 have to bestow upon others ; and they are apt to think 
 themselves extremely bountiful, if they enrich their 
 adherents by any manner of means. But this is so 
 far from being a duty of liberality, that nothing in the 
 world can be more contrary to it. It ought to be 
 therefore our first care in giving, that what we bestow 
 be a real advantage and kindness to our friend, and 
 no ways an injury to any third person. That action 
 therefore of Caesar and Sylla's', in taking away estates 
 from the rightful proprietors, and giving them to 
 others, who had nothing to do with them, ought by no 
 means to be accounted liberal \ for nothing can ever 
 be truly such, that is not at the same time just and 
 honest. A second* caution to be observed was this; 
 that our bounty be not suffered to exceed our abilities; 
 
 therefore to refer to his first caution, that our bounty be not 
 really a prejudice to any one ; for to do no wrong he laid down 
 before, (c. 7. and 10.) as the first fundamental principle of 
 Justice. His caution was, that our bounty should not be hurt- 
 ful, and here he gives his reason for it, id enim, &c. i. e. foi- 
 iiot to hurt or injure anybody is the first and fundamental rule 
 of justice, which justice ought to be the measure of bounty; 
 nothing being liberal, as he afterwards observes, but what is 
 agreeable to the rules of justice. 
 
 * The first after he had conquered Pompey the Great ; and 
 the second after he had conquered Marius in their civil wars. 
 
 • Here he comes to his second rule to be observed in giving. 
 
chap. xiv. OFFICES. 41 
 
 for they who give more than their estates will allow of, 
 are, in the first place, injurious to their own relations', 
 by spending that wealth upon other people which 
 should rather have been given or left to them. Be- 
 side that this over-great bounty in giving is usually ac- 
 companied with an answerable desire and greediness of 
 getting; which often proceeds even to downright op- 
 pression, that so men may have wherewithal to supply 
 this extravagant humour. One may also observe in a 
 great many people, that they take a sort of pride in 
 being counted magnificent, and give very plentifully, 
 not from any generous principle in their natures, but 
 only to appear great in the eye of the world; so that 
 all their bounty is resolved into nothing but mere out- 
 side and pretence, and is nearer of kin to vanity and 
 folly, than it is to either liberality or honesty. The 
 third caution" was, that our bounty should be pro- 
 portioned to the merits of the receiver : in judging of 
 which, we are first to consider the man's honesty or 
 manners ; secondly, the good- will he bears towards us ; 
 thirdly, the nearness of relation, or society that is be- 
 tween us ; and, lastly, the benefits we have formerly 
 received from him. It is desirable that all these in- 
 ducements might concur in the same person, but when 
 they do not, we should bestow our kindness more 
 especially on him, in whom we find the most and 
 weightiest of them. 
 
 * For it is our duty in the first place to provide for our re- 
 lations, and those who more immediately depend upon us. See 
 the latter end of c. 17. 
 
 » The third caution to be observed in giving — the merits, &c. 
 These are to be judged of from four heads, which he treats of 
 in order, 
 
 £3 
 
42 TULLTS 
 
 BOOK t» 
 
 CHAP. XV. 
 
 Honesty, the first sort of merit. We are not to expect we 
 shall find perfectly good men. Modesty, temperance, 
 &c. more especially to be regarded. How we should 
 judge of men's good-will towards us. Gratitude a most 
 necessary duty. We skould imitate fruitful fields, by 
 returning more than we have received. How to judge 
 
 < of the value of any kindness: those to be least esteemed 
 that are done rashly and inconsiderately. We should 
 do most for those that stand in greatest need, if they 
 are otherwise deserving. 
 
 l\ OW seeing we do not live amongst such as are per- 
 fectly and fully wise*, but such as are thought to have 
 done very well, if they are but, as it were, the rough 
 draughts of virtue; we ought to consider, I think, in 
 the first place, that no one should wholly be neglected 
 in this case, in whom there appears any shadow or re- 
 semblance of real honesty -, but that those men ought 
 to be principally regarded, who excel in the quiet and 
 more peaceable virtues of modesty, temperance, and 
 especially this justice y , of which 1 have now been dis- 
 coursing a great while. For most times greatness of 
 spirit and courage 2 , unless it be in those who are per- 
 fectly wise and virtuous, is something too hot and apt 
 to boil over 5 the others are the virtues, which seem 
 more peculiarly to constitute a good man. And so 
 much for the first sort of merit to be considered, viz. 
 the manners or honesty of the person we would be 
 kind to. The second 3 was, the good-will which he 
 
 * The first thing we are to judge a man's merits by, is his 
 honesty or good manners; in which particular we are not to 
 stay, till we find perfectly good or wise men. 
 
 y From c. 7. He takes justice here, as in several other 
 places, in the larger sense, as it contains liberality, gratitude, 
 &c. 
 
 * This he gives as a reason of what he just now said, tha*t 
 modesty, &c. should be most regirrded. 
 
 » Here he proceeds to the second of his four grounds of 
 merit, the good-will, fcc. 
 
ciiAr. xv. OFFICES. 43 
 
 bears towards us ; as to which it should always be our 
 principal care, to do most for him, by whom we are 
 most beloved : now in judging or' the good- will that 
 any one bears us, we are not to consider, like boys 
 and children, any sudden flashes and heats of passion, 
 but rather a constant and well seltled affection. But 
 if a man, in the next place L , has done us any real ser- 
 vice, so that our part is to make a requital, and not 
 first to lay an obligation upon him, it is then our duty 
 to take some greater care ; for of all the virtues, there 
 is none we are more necessarily obliged to, than gra- 
 titude. If then, according to HesiodV rule, even 
 that which was no more than barely lent us, is, if 
 possible, to be returned back with interest again 5 what 
 abundant returns should we make to those by whom 
 we have been freely and generously obliged ? What 
 less can we do than be like fruitful fields, which pro- 
 duce beyond comparison more than was thrown into 
 them ? And if we do services even to those men, 
 from whom we hope afterwards to receive any favours; 
 ought we not much more to do the same to those, from 
 whose forward kindness we have already received them? 
 For the virtue of liberality containing under it these 
 two parts ; in the first place, the doing a kindness to 
 any one -, and, secondly, the requiting it when done to 
 us 5 whether we will perform the former or not, is al- 
 together left to our own choice j but every good man d 
 is obliged to the latter, whenever he can do it without 
 
 b This is the fourth thing to be considered in judging" of a 
 man's merits, the benefits, &c. He discourses of this in the 
 third place, because, I suppose, the next will take up so much 
 room, that if this had come after it, it would have looked too 
 far distant from the other two foregoing. 
 
 c An ancient Greek poet, born at Ascra, a town in Boeotia, 
 thence called Ascraeus Senex. Some think he was older than 
 Homer, though Paterculus makes him a hundred and twenty 
 years younger. His works are still extant. 
 
 d Every good man is obliged to be charitable too, according 
 to his abilities, as well as grateful ; but with this difference, 
 that he can choose whether he will bestow his kindness upon 
 this, or that, or the other person ; but he is bound to return to 
 those very men by whom he was obliged. 
 
44 TULLTS book r. 
 
 injustice*. But then we are to make a distinction be- 
 tween benefits, and are there bound to make the most 
 ample returns, where the obligations we have received 
 are the greatest. And to judge of the merits of any 
 kindness, we are chiefly to consider in what manner 
 it was done; as whether freely, considerately, and 
 from a principle of good nature. For several people 
 do many things rashly, and with a blind sort of im- 
 pulse; throwing away their favours upon all without 
 distinction ; being hurried about, as it were with a 
 tempest, by every mad and frolicsome humour, and 
 every sudden or impetuous passion. A benefit there- 
 fore, when received from such a one, is not to be 
 esteemed of an equal value with those that proceed from 
 a settled judgment and due consideration. But our 
 principal duty, both in doing of kindnesses and mak- 
 ing requitals, is to do most for those that stand in 
 greatest need of it, supposing all circumstances else to 
 be equal $ the contrary to which appears plainly in the 
 practice and actions of the most part of men 5 for, 
 people choose to bestow their favours upon those from 
 whom they expect to receive the most benefits, though 
 the persons perhaps do not at all stand in need of them. 
 
 CHAR XVI. 
 
 We should he most ready to give to those who are most 
 nearly allied to us. The first sort of alliance is that 
 between all men in general. The bond of it, and duties 
 resulting from it. We are bound to do for any man 
 what will be a kindness to him, and no prejudice to 
 ourselves; but with this caution, that we do not thereby 
 make ourselves unable to assist those, who are more 
 nearly allied to us. 
 
 JLHE fourth' inducement remaining' to be spoke to, 
 
 « Otherwise not ; nothing being liberal in this sense of the 
 word, as it comprehends gratitude, that is not just. 
 
 f He now proceeds to the fourth, but third placed (see c. 14.) 
 ground .of a man's meriting of us, the nearness, &c. I have 
 added some words to the beginning of the chapter, to make 
 the connection with that foregoing appear the better. 
 
CHAP. xvi. OFFICES. 45 
 
 is, the nearness of relation, or society that is amongst 
 men ; for the maintenance of which, we cannot do 
 better, than to give most to those that stand nearest 
 related to ns. But that we may consider, with greater 
 distinctness, the natural principles of human society, we 
 shall here trace it down from the fountain head. The 
 first thing then to be taken notice of is this. That there 
 is such a thing as a fellowship or society between all 
 men in general*: the bond or cement that holds this 
 together is reason and discourse, which by teaching, 
 learning, communicating one with another, &c. easily 
 make men agree together, and unite them all in one 
 natural sort of conjunction and community. Nor 
 does any thing set us at a greater distance from the 
 nature of beasts ; for we oftentimes talk of the courage 
 of them, such as lions and horses 5 but never a word 
 of their equity, justice, or goodness : and why is this, 
 but because they are destitute of reason and discourse 11 ? 
 This is then the largest and most comprehensive of all 
 societies, being made up of men considered barely as 
 such, and so taking in even the whole race and kind 
 of them one with another; the duties 1 of which are, 
 
 * The first and most comprehensive society is that which 
 is between all men, considered barely as they are men : by 
 which we are obliged to do all those things, which we call acts 
 of mere humanity, such as doing good to another, when it will 
 be no prejudice to ourselves, which by the moralists are called 
 Res innoxice ulilitatis, of which he gives several instances in 
 this chapter. 
 
 b Reason and discourse are the bonds of society ; where they 
 are wanting therefore, there can be no society, and by conse- 
 quence no justice, equity, &c. which are the virtues that consist 
 in preserving society. 
 
 » The duties incumbent on us by virtue of this society are, 
 first, to let every one have a share in those things, which by 
 nature are common ; and what these are, he tells us immediate- 
 ly. Secondly, not to break in upon another's property. Thirdly, 
 in those things which are made our own, and become a pro- 
 perty, to be communicative, &c. What he means by E quibus 
 ipsis, fyc. 1 confess I do not very well understand, neither do 
 any of the commentators tell me ; but I take the meaning of it 
 to be as I have translated it : so that quibus should relate to 
 qu<B descripta sunt legibus, the things that are every one's own 
 
46 TULLY'S 
 
 BOOK I. 
 
 to let every one have a share in those things, which 
 by nature were produced for the common advantage 
 and benefit of all ; to let what is already determined 
 by laws and civil constitutions remain as it is, without 
 breaking in upon any man's right; as to which things 
 however we should remember a rule, which is now 
 among the Greeks become an usual proverb, " All 
 things in common amongst friends." But perhaps you 
 may ask, what kind of things we suppose them to be 
 which ought to be common to all mankind : Ennius 
 has given us one instance of them, which may easily 
 be applied to a great many others : 
 
 He that directs the wand* ring traveller, 
 Doth, as it were, light another's torch by his own ; 
 Which gives him ne'er the less of light, for that 
 It gave another. 
 
 By this one case he sufficiently teaches us, that what- 
 ever kindness can be done for another, without any 
 damage or loss to ourselves, it is our duty to do it, 
 though to never so much a stranger. From henee 
 have arisen those general maxims and principles of hu- 
 manity, "not to deny one a little running water ; or, 
 u the lighting his fire by ours, if he has occasion ; to 
 " give the best counsel we are able to one who is in 
 €< doubt or distress :" which are things that do good to 
 the person that receives them, and are no loss or trou- 
 ble to him that confers them. Such things therefore, 
 being by nature common, should accordingly be kept 
 open for the free use of all men ; and of those which 
 are our own we should always be giving something 
 that may contribute to the benefit and welfare of the 
 whole. But because the revenues k of particulars are 
 
 by laws : concerning which his first rule was, that we should 
 not break in upon another's right ; and then as to all other 
 cases about them, he only puts us in mind of the Greek pro- 
 verb, the meaning of which is, that we should all count our* 
 selves friends to one another, and practise accordingly. 
 
 k He puts in a necessary caution about giving, and letting 
 our things be in common ; which he would have us carry no 
 further than Ennius's rule prescribes ; that \s s we should not be 
 
chap. xvii. OFFICES. 47 
 
 small, and there are infinite numbers of those that 
 want, therefore is this universal bounty 1 to be kept 
 within the limits prescribed by Ennius, M it gives him 
 ne'er the less of light •" that so we may have it still 
 within our power to be liberal to those who are more 
 nearly allied to us. 
 
 CHAP. XVII. 
 
 Several other degrees of relation, less extensive than that 
 mentioned in the former chapter. That of friendship 
 the most closely knit. The ground and foundation of 
 true friendship. The relation arising from doing kind" 
 nesses to one another. The love a man has for his na- 
 tive country swallows up all other loves whatever. 
 Which of the several relatives we ought to prefer in 
 our liberality and doing kindnesses. A description 
 of friendship ; and of all friendships which is most 
 pleasant. 
 
 xiUT there are several degrees™ of society and fellow- 
 ship amongst mankind ; for to take now our leave of 
 that general and universal one already mentioned, 
 there is a nearer among those who are all of the same 
 country, nation, or language, than which nothing 
 more knits and unites men to one another. There is 
 a closer yet among those who are all of the same city; 
 for a great many things are in common to fellow- 
 citizeus, such as markets, temples, walks, ways, laws > 
 
 50 communicative and open-hearted to all in general, as to im- 
 poverish ourselves, and put it out of our power to assist those, 
 who are more nearly allied to us. We must light indeed an- 
 other's candle by ours, hut not so as to lose our own light by it. 
 Here we must proceed by the measures of prudence and charity. 
 
 1 Viz. That of always giving something out of what is our 
 own, for the general benefit. 
 
 m He now proceeds to reckon up the several degrees of near- 
 ness of relation amongst men ; that so we may know to whom 
 we are obliged to be most liberal, upon this last account of 
 merit, viz. nearness of relation. 
 
43 TULLY'S 
 
 book n 
 
 privileges, courts of justice, freedom of votes, besides 
 common meetings and familiarities, and abundance of 
 business and intercourse with one another. But there 
 is a stricter bond of alliance still between those who 
 belong to the same family, as taking into it but a very 
 small part of that vast and immense one of all man* 
 kind : for there being by nature implanted in all things 
 a certain desire of begetting their like, the closest and 
 nearest of all societies is between man and wife ; then 
 follows that between them and their children, and 
 afterwards that of the whole family, who inhabit to- 
 gether and have all things in common ; which is, as it 
 were, the first beginning of a city, and ground or 
 seed-plot of a whole commonwealth. Next to this 
 comes the bond of relation between brothers, as also 
 between first and second cousins; who growing too 
 numerous to live in the same house, are sent out to 
 others, as it were into new colonies. Next after this 
 follow marriages and alliances, and so a new stock of 
 relations that way 5 from whence comes a new propa- 
 gation and offspring which serves to give rise, as was 
 said, to commonwealths. Now that nearness of blood, 
 and the natural love which arises from it, cannot but 
 endear men to one another, is past all doubt; it is a 
 very great matter to have the same relics 11 and monu- 
 ments of our ancestors, to make use of the same reli- 
 gious ceremonies , and be laid, after death, in the same 
 place of burial. But of all the societies and unions 
 amongst men, there is none more excellent, or more 
 closely knit, than when such as are men of real virtue 
 and honesty, from a certain agreement and likeness of 
 their manners, contract a familiarity and friendship 
 
 » The images, &e. of their ancestors, which were kept for 
 the honour of all the family, into how many branches soever 
 divided. 
 
 Private sacrifices or ceremonies belonging to such or such 
 families in particular, which the public in general was no ways 
 concerned in : Cut prater cognatos et affines nemo interponeba- 
 tur, says Valer. Max. book ii. c. 1. And Livy speaks of a sta- 
 tum Genti Fahice Sacrificium, a solemn sacrifice belonging to 
 the Fabian family, book v. c. 46. 
 
HAT. XVII. 
 
 OFFICES. 4!) 
 
 one with another. For virtue and goodness (as we 
 often observe) of necessity moves us wherever we see it, 
 and makes us all have a love and respect for that per- 
 son in whom we discover it. And as every virtue thus 
 wins upon our hearts, and even forces us to love those 
 we take to possess it, so more especially do justice and 
 beneficence. But when several persons are all like 
 one another in honesty and good manners?, then no so- 
 ciety can ever be more loving, or more closely united. 
 For where there are many of the same humour, and 
 same inclinations, every one sees, in some measure, 
 his own self, and is accordingly delighted in the person 
 of another j and that is brought about, which Pytha- 
 goras thought the perfection of all friendship, that a 
 great many severals are made into one. There is 
 another remarkable fellowship or community, arising 
 from an intercourse of doing and receiving benefits; 
 which, while it is kept up by a mutual gratitude and 
 kindness of all the parties, cannot but occasion a firm 
 and very lasting agreement between them. But when 
 we have gone over all the relations that are in the 
 world, and thoroughly considered the nature of each, 
 we shall find that there is no one of greater obligation, 
 no one that is dearer and nearer to us, than that which 
 we all of us bear to the public. We have a tender 
 concern and regard for our parents, for pur children, 
 our kindred, and acquaintance, but the love which we 
 have for our native country swallows up all other loves 
 whatsoever; for which there is no honest man but 
 
 p Every man has a kindness for himself, and is in some 
 measure pleased with his own qualities and way of living ; 
 when therefore he sees another with the same qualities, and 
 that follows after the same way of life, he presently conceives 
 him as it were another self, and is accordingly pleased with 
 him too ; which seems to be the reason why like (as we say) 
 loves to join with like. When several therefore have the same 
 virtues and perfections in them, every one is pleased with all 
 the rest, as with himself, and they all become, (as it were) one 
 and the same person, which is what Pythagoras thought the 
 perfection of friendship. See Aristot. FAh. Nicom, hook viii. 
 c. 4. from which this seems to have been taken. 
 
50 TULLY'S book i. 
 
 would die, if by his death he could do it any necessary 
 service. How detestable then must the wickedness** 
 and barbarity of those people be, who have mangled 
 and rent this their native country by all manner of 
 villanies, and have made it their business' (nay, and 
 still do so*) to bring it to ruin and utter desolation? — 
 Now if there should happen any contest or competition 
 between these relations' which of them should have the 
 greatest share of our duty, we should pay the first re- 
 gard to our country" and parents, from whom we have 
 received the most endearing obligations; the next to 
 our children and family, who all have their eyes upon 
 us alone, and have nobody else they can depend upon $ 
 next in order to these come our kindred and relations, 
 whose fortune is generally the same with our own. To 
 each of these therefore, whom I have just now men- 
 tioned, we most of all owe what is necessary for their 
 subsistence : but then, as for living and eating together, 
 for mutual advising, discourse, exhortation, comforting, 
 and sometimes (if occasion serves) rebuking x , friend- 
 ship is the prosperest soil for them $ and of all kinds of 
 friendship, there is none so pleasant as that which is 
 cemented by a likeness of manners. 
 
 1 For the greater obligation they had to their country, the 
 greater their wickedness was in destroying it. 
 
 * He means Julius Caesar. 
 
 * Mark Anthony and his adherents. 
 
 * Having thus laid down the several relations that we have 
 in the world, he proceeds to shew, how we should carry our- 
 selves in them ; by giving the preference to our country, &c. 
 
 n Before even our parents ; for the welfare of these is con- 
 tained in, and depends upon, that of our country ; which should 
 it be ruined, our parents and every thing else must of course 
 follow after it. 
 
 * Solomon therefore incomparably well, Prov. xxvii. 6. calls 
 rebukes the wounds of a friend ; which he says are faithful, 
 while the kisses of an enemy are full of deceit. 
 
chap, xviii. OFFICES. 51 
 
 CHAP. XVIII. 
 
 In liberality the necessity of the person is especially to be 
 considered. Some kindnesses due to some relatives more 
 than to others. Rules signify but little of themselves, 
 unless they are confirmed by practice and exercise. 
 Greatness of soul, the third general virtue, most glori- 
 ous and splendid of them all. Is most of all praised, 
 and its contrary dispraised among men. 
 
 BUT in all these duties of beneficence and liberality', 
 one principal thing to be taken notice of is, what ne- 
 cessity the person we would be kind to lies under, and 
 what he is able or not able to do without our assistance ; 
 so that in some cases, the present posture and circum- 
 stances of a man's condition ought more to prevail 
 with us, than the degrees of relation. Again, there 
 are certain particular offices, which are more peculiarly 
 owing to some one sort of relatives, than they are to 
 another: in the business, for example, of getting in 
 his corn, it is our duty rather to assist a next neigh- 
 bours than either a brother or familiar friend ; but if 
 the business be a case at law, then a kinsman or friend 
 must rather be defended, than only a next neighbour. 
 These things therefore, and such like circumstances, 
 should be well considered, in the practice and exercise 
 of every virtue ; and our minds should be brought to 
 a kind of acquaintance and familiarity with them, that 
 so we may be quick at the accounts of our duty, and 
 able, by casting up all things together, to see at last 
 what the remainder is, and know what we owe to the 
 several sorts and conditions of men. For as a general, 
 
 y He has shewn towards whom and how we ought chiefly to 
 exercise our liberality ; but because particular circumstances 
 may make some alteration, he gives us a rule or two for our 
 direction about them. 
 
 * Because getting in corn is a thing that more peculiarly 
 seems to be a part of neighbourhood ; and has nothing to d» 
 with friendship and kindred, &c. 
 F3 
 
 
m TULLY'S book i. 
 
 orator, or physician, however well skilled in the rules 
 of his art, can never be perfect without the assistance 
 of practice and experience -, just so it is in the case 
 now before us: many have laid down the rules and 
 precepts of virtue and good-living, (as I myself am 
 doing at this very time,) but there is moreover required 
 to a due degree of height and perfection in it, that 
 tine accustom himself to the exercise of them. And 
 thus have I shewn how virtue and honesty, from which 
 all our duty does immediately flow, are deduced from 
 those things which concern the society and good of 
 mankind ; which was the second general I proposed to 
 discourse of. 
 
 It is to be observed 3 , that, whereas there were laid 
 down four general heads, from which all virtue and 
 honesty is derived, whatever proceeds from a brave and 
 exalted mind, that is raised above fortune and all the 
 little chances and accidents of the world, is usually 
 made most account of amongst men. Hence in re- 
 proaches we find there is nothing more common than 
 such things as these. 
 
 For shame ! Young men, and yet have women's hearts t 
 While this brave woman plays the man 
 
 Or something like this, 
 
 Dear Salmacis b , give spoils that cost no sweat or blood ! 
 
 Whereas, on the contrary, in praises or panegyrics, 
 those things that are done with a bravery of mind, 
 
 * Having finished his discourse about justice, the second; he 
 goes on to fortitude, magnanimity, or greatness of soul, the 
 tliird of his general heads of virtue ; of which he observes in 
 the first place, that it is more glorious and splendid in the 
 account of the world, than any of the rest. 
 
 b Salmacis was the name of a nymph presiding over a stream, 
 which was said to soften and effeminate those that washed in 
 it. [See the fourth book of Ovid's Metamorph.'] These words are 
 spoken by way of reproach to some coward, and mean no more 
 than that he is for no spoils but only those of women, that 
 cost no wounds, &c. 
 
CHAP. XIX. 
 
 OFFICES. 53 
 
 and have something of extraordinary courage in them, 
 (I know not how,) we commend in a nobler and loftier 
 strain, than we do any ihing else. Hence Marathon, 
 Salami's, Plateae c , &c. are so common a field for all the 
 rhetoricians: hence our Cocles d ; hence the Decii, the 
 Scipios, Marcellus, and a great many others; and espe- 
 cially the people of Rome itself, are particularly fa- 
 mous for greatness of courage. But the value that is 
 set upon military glory, appears from this, that almost 
 all statues are done in the habit and garb of a soldier. 
 
 CHAP. XIX. 
 
 Courage is not truly a virtue, unless it be accompanied 
 with justice, truth, %c. An excellent definition of it 
 given by the Stoics. An admirable saying of Plato to 
 the same purpose. Men of great souls are apt to be 
 ungovernable and ambitious; which prompts them to 
 injustice. A man of a truly noble spirit never injures 
 another, but protects from injuries, scorns applause, 
 and the voice of the ignorant multitude. 
 
 JKUT that sort of courage* which is seen in the dan- 
 gers and fatigues of war, unless a man be governed by 
 the rules of justice, and fight for the safety and good 
 of the public, and not for particular ends of his own, 
 is altogether blaraeable ; and so far from being a part 
 of true virtue, as that it is indeed a piece of the most 
 barbarous inhumanity. Fortitude is therefore very well 
 
 e Places where the Grecians with a great deal of courage 
 conquered mighty armies of the Persians. See Corn. Nepos's. 
 Miltiades: Plutarch's Themistocles and Aristides. 
 
 d The names of several extraordinary Romans, who by their 
 courage contributed much to the raising of that empire; and 
 therefore were very much applauded by posterity. 
 
 * Fighting stoutly, and undergoing dangers, is not enough 
 to give a man the name and reputation of valour, unless he da 
 it in a good cause, by fair means, &c. 
 f3 
 
54 TULLY'S book %. 
 
 defined by the Stoic philosophers, when they call it, 
 " a virtue contending for justice and honestyV No man 
 therefore by baseness and treachery has ever got the 
 name and reputation of true courage, for nothing can 
 ever be virtuous or creditable that is not just. To 
 which purpose that of Plato was admirably well said, 
 " As that sort of knowledge, which is not directed by 
 u the rules of justice, ought rather to have the name of 
 <f design and subtilty, than wisdom and prudence ; just 
 te so that bold and adventurous mind, which is hurried 
 u by the stream of its own passions, and not for the 
 is good and advantage of the public, should rather 
 u have the name of fool-hardy and daring, than va- 
 u liant and courageous." The first thing therefore I 
 would have in a truly courageous man is, that he be a 
 follower of goodness and fair dealing 5 , of truth and 
 sincerity $ which are the principal and constituent 
 parts of justice. But here it is one very unhappy 
 thing, that most times these great and exalted minds 
 are naturally ungovernable and desirous of rule: so 
 that -what Plato observed of the Spartans, that all their 
 customs -had' no other aim, but to get the superiority, 
 may fitly enough be applied to these persons : for the 
 more any man has of this greatness of soul, the more 
 
 f It is not true courage therefore to be bold in vice ; nor is 
 k a sign of a faint-hearted spirit; to be afraid of committing 
 what indeed is a fault : there are some things (as Aristotle well 
 observes) which a man of true courage ought to fear, and it is 
 a shame for him not to do it. It were well if this could be con- 
 sidered by some men, who think it a brave and heroic piece of 
 greatness, to live in open defiance of the laws, and let the world 
 see- they are not afraid of the gallows : who defy heaven out of 
 a mere bravado, and affront the Almighty, that they may not 
 seem such cowards as to be afraid of hell. The truth of it is, 
 there is hardly any thing occasions more evil in the world, 
 than men's having false notions of this virtue ; and would 
 they but take this definition along with them, they would 4iot 
 talk so much of being courageous in doing ill, nor call others 
 men of low, mean, and pitiful souls, for not daring to ba vil- 
 lains. 
 
 « These words must be taken in a limited sense, not as 
 though cunning and stratagem were unlawful, but only as ex- 
 clusive of perfidiousness and treachery* 
 
CHAP. XIX. 
 
 OFFICES. 55 
 
 ca^er he is of being a sharer in the government, or 
 rather of obtaining it wholly to himself: and it is no 
 easy matter to be fair anil equitable in all one's ac- 
 tions, which is the proper and peculiar office of jus* 
 tiee, while one is endeavouring to make himself upper- 
 most. From hence it comes to pass, that they never 
 will be conquered in any debates, nor over-ruled by 
 the laws and constitutions of the public; but make it 
 their business by factions and bribery to get a strong 
 party and interest in the republic 5 and rather choose 
 to be uppermost by force and injustice, than equal to 
 others by fair and upright dealing. But the difficulty 
 of it can only serve to make it more honourable, but 
 never its contrary more excusable 11 : for no sort of case 
 or circumstance whatever can excuse any man for 
 being guilty of injustice. Those are therefore your 
 truly brave and courageous men, not who rob, plunder, 
 and injure others, but those who secure and protect 
 them from injuries. But that greatness of mind which 
 is truly such, and, under the direction of wisdom and 
 prudence, makes that honour and credit, which we 
 naturally desire, not consist in the outward imaginary 
 applause, but in the real intrinsic goodness of its ac- 
 tions ; and is not so eager of appearing to be greater 
 and better than others, as of really being so. For he 
 that is so mean as to depend upon the giddy and igno- 
 rant multitude, ought never to be accounted of a truly 
 great and exalted spirit 3 besides that, there is nothing 
 so easily draws men to acts of injustice, as a loftiness 
 of mind, when joined with this foolish desire of ap- 
 
 h I have added these words to my author, because the sense 
 seems plainly to require them, or something; like them. He 
 had just been saying", that men of great souls are naturally 
 apt to run into injustice, for the raising of their fortunes ; and 
 that it is very difficult for them not to do so; but fearing lest 
 this should be urged as an excuse for them, he takes care to 
 prevent it by saying, that the difficulty of it enhances the 
 credit ; and then adds Nullum est enim, &c. which words seem 
 to give a reason why the difficulty of adhering to justice in this 
 case, will by no means serve to excuse injustice : for, says he, 
 -no sort of case, Sfc. 
 
m TULLY'3 book*, 
 
 plause.. This is indeed a very dangerous place*, and 
 requires our greatest concern and watchfulness; be- 
 cause yoi> hhall hardly find any man, who, when he 
 has gone through labours and difficulties, does not ex- 
 pect this honour and applause, as a kind of reward for 
 his courage and achievements. 
 
 CHAP. XX. 
 
 Wherein true greatness of soul consists. An excellent de- 
 scription of it. It is an enemy to covetousness, to ihe 
 desire of applause and of power. Produces a calm 
 and unpassionate mind. The desire of this calm and 
 tranquillity of mind, has made some men retire, and 
 separate themselves from public business. In what a 
 perfect freedom consists. 
 
 j\OW all true courage and greatness of mind k is 
 inore especially seen in these two things : the first is a 
 generous contempt or disregard of all outward goods 1 , 
 
 . f That is, he that has gotten this loftiness of mind, is in 
 very great danger of being desirous of applause, (very few 
 being otherwise) and by consequence of falling into injustice : 
 and therefore he ought to be the more careful as to this parti- 
 cular. 
 
 * Having shewn in the former chapter what the requisites of 
 true courage are, viz. justice, truth, &c. that it is opposite to 
 ambition, vain-glory, and ungovernableness, &c. he goes on 
 now to shew wherein it consists, and what those things are, 
 which it is concerned about. 
 
 1 Such are riches, honours, commands, &c. which it is the 
 part of the greatest soul not to be a slave to. We call a soul 
 either great or little, according to the things which we find it 
 affected with ; there being always a proportion between the fa* 
 culties and the object. Thus children that have gotten but lit- 
 tle souls, are concerned about little and trivial objects ; which, 
 afterward, as their faculties enlarge, they come to leave off and 
 despise by degrees. He therefore is a man of true fortitude 
 and greatness of soul, who is concerned about none but the 
 greatest objects, viz. virtue and vice, happiness and misery : 
 who is above all lesser concerns in the world, such as pleasure 
 or pain, riches or poverty, &c. and never suffers himself so 
 much to regard them, as either to be puffed up at the one, or 
 
chap. xx. OFFICES. 57 
 
 proceeding from an opinion, that it is unworthy of a 
 man to admire, or wish for, or endeavour after any 
 thing, unless it be that which is honest and becoming 5 
 to make himself subject to anyone's will: to be a 
 slave to his own irregular passions ; or any ways de- 
 pend upon the caprices of fortune. When he has 
 gotten such a temper of mind as I have now been 
 describing, then the second thing is, that he perform 
 such actions as are glorious and profitable m , but withal 
 very full both of labour and difficulty ; and extremely 
 dangerous to his life itself; as well as to those things 
 that are requisite for its preservation. Now all the 
 lustre and dignity of these two parts, nay, and I add 
 all their usefulness too, is lodged only in the latter; 
 but the ground- work, as it were, and foundation of all 
 true greatness, is laid in the former. For in that are 
 contained those generous principles, which exalt men s 
 minds, and raise them to a contempt of all worldly 
 things. But that former itself is made up of two parts; 
 the first is an opinion that nothing is truly and really 
 good, but only what is honest : the second, a freedom 
 from all sort of passion or disturbance of mind. For 
 what can more discover a man of a brave and heroic 
 spirit, than to make no account in the world of those 
 things, which seems so glorious and dazzling to the 
 generality of mankind; but wholly to despise them, 
 not from any vain and fantastic humour, but from so- 
 lid and firm principles of reason and judgment? Or 
 
 dejected at the other. Hence he is never disquieted either with 
 fears of evil, hope* of good, or any other passion; but however 
 the world goes, can always keep an even temper of soul. From 
 hence result uniformity and consistency or regularity in his 
 life, Sec. 
 
 m This is not necessary to all fortitude; for if it were, then 
 those men who live a life of retirement, could never be said to 
 have that virtue : which yet he affirms afterwards. 
 
 n It is the doing of great and profitable actions, that makes 
 a man glorious and splendid and useful to his country ; but it 
 is that firm temper and resolution of mind, which is the cause 
 that makes him venture to do such actions ; which he therefore 
 calls the causa et ratio efficiens 7nag?ios viros, which has 60mc^ 
 thing more in it than groundwork and foundation. 
 
58 TULLYS book u 
 
 what fc can more shew a robust mind, and unshaken 
 constancy, than to bear those heavy and numerous ca- 
 lamities, which are incident to mankind in this life, 
 with such a firm temper and fixedness of soul, as 
 never to offend against nature and right reason, or do 
 any thing that is unworthy the dignity and character 
 of a wise man ? Now it would not at all be consistent 
 or agreeable, that he who bore up so courageously 
 against fear, should be afterwards unable to resist de- 
 sire ; or that he who could never be conquered by pain, 
 should suffer himself to be captivated by pleasure. — 
 These things therefore should well be considered, and 
 of all desires , that of money should be avoided 5 for 
 nothing is a greater sign of a narrow, mean, and sor- 
 did spirit, than to dote upon riches ; nor is any thing 
 on the contrary more creditable and magnificent than 
 to contemn wealth, if you have it not ; and if you 
 have it, to lay it out freely in acts of bounty and libe- 
 rality. The desire of glory, as I before observed, 
 ought also to be avoided ; for it robs a man wholly of 
 his freedom and liberty p, which generous spirits ought 
 of all things in the world to maintain and contend fdr. 
 Neither ought places of power to be sought after; but 
 at some times rather to be refused when offered; at 
 others, to be laid down if they can conveniently. We 
 should free ourselves, in short, from all vehement pas- 
 sions and disorders of mind, not only those of desire 
 and fear, but also of sorrow, of joy, and anger; that so 
 the state of the mind may be calm and undisturbed, 
 which will make the whole life become graceful and 
 
 Since fortitude in great measure consists in a freedom from 
 the passions, of which desire is one ; from hence it follows, 
 that whoever is taken with an over-great desire of any thing, 
 offends against this virtue. For this reason he advises here 
 against the desire of money, honour, &c. as vices opposite to 
 greatness of soul. He brought them in before, c. viii. as causes 
 of positive injustice. / 
 
 p For who are greater slaves than those who stand for places ? 
 Or what servant more depends upon the beck of his master 
 than the ambitious man upon the humour and good-will of the 
 multitude? - 
 
\ BAP. EX. 
 
 OFFICES. 50 
 
 uniform \ Now there both are and have been many, 
 who, to gain this repose of which I am speaking, have 
 betaken themselves to a life of retirement r ? and wholly 
 withdrawn from all business of the public. Among 
 these the noblest and most eminent of the philoso- 
 phers ; and some men of rigid and severe lives, who 
 disliked the manners of the people or their governors ; 
 others have withdrawn themselves into the country, 
 being pleased with the management of their own pri- 
 vate fortunes. These men proposed the same end to 
 themselves that kings and princes do, viz. the living so 
 as to want for nothing; to be under the power and 
 control of none, but to enjoy a full and perfect free- 
 dom $ which consists in living so as one's self best pleases \ 
 
 n By constantia here, as in most other places, he does not 
 mean that which we commonly call constancy ; but that which 
 the poets call consistency in a character, i. e. an uniformity or 
 agreement between all the parts of it, so that one doth not 
 thwart and contradict another : which can never proceed from 
 any thing else, but a perpetual subjection of the passions and 
 appetites to the commands of reason. For the passions are 
 irregular and inconsistent with one another ; sometimes up and 
 sometimes down ; sometimes hurrying a man this way, other 
 times that. See note on c. xxix. 
 
 T It was before observed, that this virtue consists chiefly in 
 freedom from the disorders of mind, &c. This leads him to 
 discourse of the several ways men have taken for the obtaining 
 this repose ; which are two, first, a retired and private way of 
 living. 2dly, a greatness of power and authority. The former 
 is either of philosophers or private gentlemen ; and this last is 
 either of war or peace. So that according to our author's sense 
 we may make four sorts of fortitude, or rather four ways of 
 life, in which this virtue appears. The first we may call con- 
 templative or monastic, which consists in contemplation, and 
 a bare conquest of the passions. The second rustic, in manag- 
 ing one's private estate well. The third civil, in wisely and 
 prudently governing the state. And the fourth martial, in 
 fighting bravely and well-carrying on the business of war. He 
 gives rules about each of them in the following discourse. 
 
 • These words must be taken in a limited sense ; not as 
 though by pleases were meant what our passions or fancy may 
 suggest, but what our nature or reason commands. We ought 
 to be governed and ruled by this, and not by our lusts and sen- 
 sual appetites ; true freedom consisting, not in our being 
 exempt from law, but in our being a law to our own selves; as 
 a £r«at author speaks. 
 
60 TULLY'S 
 
 CHAP. XXI. 
 
 EOOK I. 
 
 Those who live a public and a private life aim both at 
 freedom. Their lives compared : the former more 
 useful, the latter more safe. In what cases a man 
 may be excused from serving the public. Those ought 
 to serve it who are qualified for the service. Greatness 
 of soul more necessary for those in a public, than in a 
 retired life. Two or three rules to be observed before 
 a man enters upon business. 
 
 JlHIS then being the common design and end of 
 them both, those who are ambitious of power and au- 
 thority, think to obtain it by enlarging their fortunes 
 and interests in the world j but these whom I have 
 mentioned as men of retirement, by contenting them- 
 selves with their own condition, though but humble 
 and mean. In which they are neither of them wholly 
 in the wrong; but the life of the latter, I mean the 
 retired, is both easier and safer, and begets less of 
 trouble and disturbance to others, whereas that of the 
 former, who give themselves up to affairs of state, and 
 the management of great and important concerns, is 
 more adapted to the benefit and good of mankind, 
 and the getting of credit and reputation in the world. 
 Those people therefore are perhaps excusable*, who 
 being of parts and capacities for learning, give them- 
 selves wholly to the study of it, and never at all med- 
 dle with public business; and so are those also, who 
 being disabled by sickness and infirmities, or on 
 any other good and allowable account, have separated 
 themselves from the administration of affairs, leaving 
 the power and reputation of it in the hands of others. 
 But as for those people who have none of these rea- 
 sons, and pretend to despise those commands and ho- 
 
 * Having said there are two kinds of life, viz. public and pri- 
 vate, wherein men endeavour to arrive at this virtue, and com- 
 pared them one with another ; he shews that all are obliged to 
 the former, as more useful to mankind ; except in some cases 
 mentioned. - 
 
OFFICES. 61 
 
 nours, which most men admire • I am so far from 
 thinking it a virtue in them, that I rather esteem 
 it a very great fault. Thus far, it is true, one can 
 hardly condemn them, in that they despise, and make 
 little account of glory and applause; but their true 
 reason seems to be rather this, that they do not care 
 to sutfer the labour and fatigue of them, and are afraid 
 of encountering with rubs and repulses, as things that 
 are attended with some shame and dishonour". For you 
 shall often find there are a great many men, who are 
 very inconsistent with themselves in things of a con- 
 trary nature j as for pleasure, they despise it with all 
 the severity of a stoic ; but yet are so effeminate, as 
 not to be able to bear the least trouble; are mighty 
 contemners of fame and applause ; but extremely con- 
 cerned at any thing of disgrace : which are things 
 that do not very well agree together*. Those people 
 then, whom nature has endowed with abilities for that 
 purpose y , should forthwith endeavour to procure them- 
 selves places, and manage the business of the common- 
 wealth ) otherwise how should the city be well go- 
 verned, or the greatness of their endowments be made 
 known to the world ? 15ut that greatness of soul% and 
 
 c This fee adds as a reason of the words immediately forego- 
 ing; he had just been saying, that retired men did well in de- 
 spising and neglecting places of honour; but that withal thev 
 were afraid of shame and disgrace, which a man of a great soul 
 ought not to be. This might seem odd, that one who despised 
 honour, should yet be afraid of a little disgrace ; to confirm it 
 therefore, he presently adds, For yon shall, ^c. 
 
 * Viz. For a man to despise pleasure, and yet not be able 
 to bear pam ; or to contemn applause, and yet be afraid of 
 being a little ill spoken of. 
 
 f Gentlemen therefore, and others, who have parts and abi- 
 lities for that purpose, should not think they are born for them- 
 selves alone, but to serve their country, friends, &c. See c. 7. 
 
 z Having said that all who are qualified for it should serve 
 their country, and endeavour after the public sort of fortitude ; 
 he lays down some rules in common for all those who take 
 upon them any public trust, whether civil or military ; such as 
 ^.re, to be free from passion, to see that what they undertake 
 onest, &.c. 
 
62 TULLY'S Book i. 
 
 contempt of all human things, which we have often 
 mentioned, together with that calmness and serenity 
 of mind, is requisite in those of a public station, as 
 much, if not more than it is in philosophers, if ever 
 they hope to be free from anxieties, and arrive at any 
 steadiness or uniformity in their lives. Now these 
 thihgs are easier to philosophers than to them ; foras- 
 much as their lives being led in private, require for 
 their support a less number of things, and have fewer 
 within the power and reach of fortune : and if any ill 
 accident should befal them, it is impossible their suf- 
 ferings can be very considerable. Those men therefore 
 that are in public stations, having things of more 
 weight and importance to be taken care of, must in 
 reason be supposed to lie much more open to the as- 
 saults of the passions % than those who spend their 
 days in privacy and retirement. Upon which account 
 they should take the more care to fortify themselves 
 with this greatness of spirit, and to -free their minds 
 from the grievous torments and disturbances of them. 
 But he who takes upon him a public trust, should not 
 only look that the business be honest, but that he him- 
 self be qualified for the management of it. In con- 
 sidering of which there is a double extreme to be 
 carefully avoided, that he neither despair through a 
 mean cow-heartedness, nor yet be over confident through 
 eagerness of desire. And lastly, in whatever he sets 
 about, let all things be diligently and carefully put in 
 order, before he goes on to the execution of it. 
 
 a Our passions are apt to rise in proportion to their objects ; 
 philosophers therefore, and those who live quiet and retired 
 lives, having very little business or concern in the world, can 
 have nothing so great, as very mightily to move either their 
 hopes or their fears, &c. But your men of business being con- 
 cerned in the affairs of a kingdom or state, must needs be more 
 liable to the insults of these passions. 
 
chap. xxii. OFFICES. 63 
 
 CHAP. XXII. 
 
 It is no less great and commendable to manage affairs of 
 
 peace, than of war. Several examples to prove this. 
 
 Arms useless abroad, without civil prudence at home. 
 
 ro's eminent services to the republic. A saying of 
 
 Pompey the Great to him upon that subject. 
 
 J3UT seeing most people are apt to imagine, that it 
 is greater and more glorious to manage affairs of war 
 than peace j I shall endeavour to lessen this general 
 opinion b . For the greatness of that glory, which is 
 given to warriors, has made many people, for no other 
 reason, desirous of quarrels -, especially men of the 
 greatest parts and most aspiring minds 5 particularly if 
 they are qualified for a soldier's life, and their disposi- 
 tion carry them to the profession of arms. But if we 
 would make a just estimate of the case, we should find 
 both greater and more glorious actions done by wisdom 
 at home, than by arms abroad. For what though 
 Themistocles c be deservedly commended, and his 
 name more illustrious than that of Solon d ; and though 
 Salamis be brought for the proof of a victory which is 
 commonly preferred to the wisdom of Solon, in con- 
 stituting and settling the senate of Areopagus ; yet, in 
 
 b Before he lays down any particular rules about the several 
 sorts of fortitude, he compares the civil and military together, 
 and gives the preference to the former. 
 
 c A famous Athenian general, by whose prudence and con- 
 duct especially, the Greeks conquered Xerxes in that great 
 battle at the island Salamis. See his life in Plut. and Corn. 
 Nep. 
 
 d An eminent philosopher and lawgiver of the Athenians, 
 one of the seven wise men of Greece, who is supposed by some 
 to have first instituted their great council of Areopagus. His 
 life is written by Plut. Aristotle indeed, and some others, 
 tell us, that he did not first set on foot, but only confirmed the 
 council of Areopagus, whereas he abolished most other things 
 in the former constitution. For which reason Langius will have 
 Cicero mean by the word instituit here, no more than stabilivit 
 or con/irmavit, confirmed or established. 
 g2 
 
64 TULLY'S book i 
 
 truth, ought this to be judged no less great and extra- 
 ordinary than that: for Themistocles's victory was 
 only a service to the commonwealth once -, but Solon's 
 counsel will be so for ever : seeing it is by this that the 
 laws of the Athenians, and constitutions of their an- 
 cestors, are kept up and maintained. Besides, The- 
 mistocles can name nothing in the world, wherein he 
 assisted the Areopagus : but Solon on his part may 
 truly say, that he, by his wisdom, was assisting to 
 Themistocles ; for the war was carried on by the di- 
 rections of that senate, which he by his prudence at 
 first appointed. The same may be said of Pausariias 
 and Lysander 6 ; for though by their valour they are 
 thought to have enlarged the dominion of the Spartans, 
 yet it is by no means at all to be compared with the 
 laws and discipline of the wise Lycurgus f : besides, 
 that it was solely to these laws and this discipline, 
 they owed all the courage and obedience of their ar- 
 mies. I, for my own part, was always of opinion, 
 that Marcus Scaurus g , when I was a boy, was by no 
 means inferior to Caius Marius h ; nor Quintus Catu- 
 lus*, since I meddled with the republic, to Cneius 
 
 « Two famous Spartan generals, who got several victories 
 over the Athenians and Persians, and made Lacedaemon the 
 empress of all Greece. See their lives in Corn. Nep, 
 
 1 A'noble and most wise lawgiver of the Spartans, who, as 
 long as they lived up to his discipline, were one of the bravest 
 nations in the world. His life is at large in Plut. 
 
 « An excellent Roman Cos. about the year of Rome 632, and 
 afterwards censor, about the time that Cicero was born. — He 
 was father of that Scaurus, whose magnificent ^dileship he 
 mentions afterwards. He was of great credit and authority in 
 the senate-house, and is commonly called, Princeps Senaiust 
 commended by all for his gravity, abstinence, &c. 
 
 fe One who though of mean parentage, yet by his valour and 
 courage raised himself to be seven times made Cos. of Rome. 
 His life is in Plut. 
 
 * There were two of that name, father and son, very parti- 
 cularly famous, and often mentioned by our author, for their 
 learning, wisdom, eloquence, &c. See his De Oratore 9 Brutus, 
 &c. The father was Cos. with Marius, An. U. C 651 ; and 
 the year after being Proconsul, shared with him in the victory 
 over the Cimbri. At last he was killed by his cFuel orders m 
 
CUAF. XXII. 
 
 OFFICES. 65 
 
 Pompeius k 5 for armies can signify but little abroad, 
 unless there be counsel and wise management at home. 
 Neither was the raising and destroying of Numantia, 
 by that incomparable person, and brave commander, 
 the second African us, a greater and more signal piece 
 of service to the republic, than the killing of Tiberius 
 Gracchus by Nasica 1 , though a mere private citizen 
 at the same time. It is true, this action had something 
 of the soldier in it, as being done by force and down- 
 right violence, and so does not wholly come under the 
 notion of civil concerns: however, I have brought it 
 as an instance of these, because it was effected by this 
 civil sort of prudence, and without the assistance of a 
 military power. I cannot but therefore still extremely 
 approve of that saying of mine, which I am told some 
 malicious and envious fellows most mightily carp at : 
 
 Let warlike arms give place to th' peaceful gown, 
 And to the stateman's praise the victor yield his crown. 
 
 For not to say any thing of other people, when I my 
 own self sat at the helm of the government, did not 
 arms then give place to the gown ? Never was the 
 state in more imminent danger™, and yet never were 
 
 the year 666, Cicero being but twenty years old; so that he 
 must hen* mean the son, who was heir to his father's virtues, 
 Cos. with Lepidus, An. 67b. Our author in his Brutus, ranks 
 hira in prasidiis reip. among those who by their wisdom sup- 
 ported the state. 
 
 k Pompey the Great, who held the civil war against Caesar, 
 and was beaten by him. All the historians are full of him. 
 
 1 P. Scipio Nasica, grandson of him, who by the senate was 
 judged to be the honestest man in Rome ; who while Gracchus 
 was persuading his pernicious laws, and the consul slack in en- 
 deavouring to suppress him, rose up in the senate, and bid all 
 those who were for the good of the republic follow him ; which 
 several „doing, they went and killed Gracchus presently. 
 
 m By the conspiracy of L. Cataline, a noble and valiant, but 
 wicked and debauched Roman, who, together with some others 
 that were like himself, formed most pernicious designs against 
 the empire ; which were defeated and brought to nought by the 
 vigilance and excellent conduct of Cicero then consul. For 
 which extraordinary service, he was by common vote styled 
 g3 
 
.66 TOLLY'S book t. 
 
 things better and more happily quieted. Thus by my 
 prudence and careful management, the most impudent 
 and audacious of all the citizens let, as it were, their 
 arms fall out of their hands. What action then was 
 there ever performed in war like this? Or where is 
 the triumph that can be compared to it? For I think 
 I may venture a little to boast before you, son Marcus, 
 whose happiness it is to succeed in the glory, and 
 whose duty to imitate the excellence of my actions: 
 this I am sure of, even Pompey himself (a man the 
 most famous for martial achievements) did me that 
 justice, in the hearing of several, as to say, " That 
 €( his returning home with his third triumph had been 
 *' to little or no purpose, unless my endeavours and 
 €t services to the republic had preserved the city for 
 l< him to triumph in." I conclude therefore from what 
 has been observed, that that sort of courage which is 
 seen in the management of civil affairs, is no less de- 
 serving than that which consists in the business of 
 fighting; and the former requires more pains and ap- 
 plication to be perfect in it, than the latter doth. 
 
 CHAP. XXIII. 
 
 The body ought to he so far taken care of, as that it may 
 he able to bear fatigues ; but it is the mind that truly 
 makes great men. War should be undertaken only for 
 the sake of peace. The difference between a great soul 
 and a great understanding, and the duties of each. 
 Fighting, one of the least parts of courage. 
 
 UPON the whole, that virtue which consists in 
 greatness and elevation of soul, and makes up the 
 subject of our present inquiry, is obtained by the 
 strength of the mind, not the body. However the 
 
 Father of Ids Country, an honour which he is frequently boast- 
 in 0, of in his writings. See the whole history at large in Sailust.- 
 
chap. xxm. OITIC; 67 
 
 body ought not to be neglected, but by exercise 
 brought to such a frame and condition, as that it may 
 be able to obey the prescriptions of the mind, in 
 performing that business, and bearing those fatigues 
 which are required of it. But still the nature of the 
 virtue we are seeking for, consists in due care and ap- 
 plication of mind ^ in which particular, the public re- 
 ceives as much benefit from gown-men, who manage 
 and take care of its civil concerns, as it doth from sol- 
 diers, who are generals of its armies ; for they by 
 their piudence have often either hindered the breaking 
 out of wars, or else have occasioned their speedy con- 
 clusion ; and sometimes too have been the cause of 
 their being undertaken, as the third with Carthage was 
 entered into upon the advice of Cato n , whose credit 
 and authority prevailed in that case even after he was 
 dead. Wisdom therefore, and skill in determining civil 
 affairs, is more to be desired than courage in fighting: 
 but then we must always be careful in this case, that our 
 design be not the avoiding of war, but the being more 
 useful and serviceable to the public. And as for war", 
 it should never be undertaken with any other aim, but 
 only that of obtaining an honourable peace. It is the 
 part of a brave and unshaken spirit, not to be dis- 
 turbed under any misfortune, or suffer itself in disorder 
 and tumult to be thrown off the saddle, (as we usually 
 speak,) but always to keep such a presence of mind, as 
 to be able to consult upon every occasion, and be hur- 
 ried on to nothing, but what is agreeable to reason 
 and discretion. And as this is the part of an exalted 
 spirit, so is what follows, of an elevated understanding; 
 to discover effects even while they are yet in the wombs 
 
 * The elder Cato, who was surnamed Censorius, from his 
 severity when censor. He was always persuading* the Romans 
 to destroy Carthage, which they did under the conduct of the 
 younger Scipio ; but not till two or three years after his death* 
 
 ° Having determined the question, whether civil or military 
 conduct be better; he now proceeds to give some directions 
 about the latter; that we should never undertake war but for 
 the sake of peace ; nor be cast down at misfortunes, &.c. to the 
 f-nd of the next chapter. 
 
68 TULLY'S book i. 
 
 of their causes, and consider beforehand whatever 
 may happen on either side, and accordingly what is to 
 be done when it does happen ; that so he may never 
 be taken unawares, and brought to that lamentable 
 shift of crying out, " I never once thought of it." These 
 are the duties, as of a truly courageous and lofty, so 
 of a wise and judicious mind; but rashly to run and 
 lay about one in battle, and come to wounds and 
 downright blows with an enemy, is but a savage and 
 brutish kind of business; however, necessity so re- 
 quiring, a man should fight, and choose rather to part 
 with his life than his liberty, or be guilty of any base 
 or dishonourable action. 
 
 CHAP. XXIV. 
 
 The duty of a truly courageous man, after he has con* 
 quered his enemies. Cool and deliberate counsels to be 
 preferred before heat and boldness. Nothing more 
 foolish than to expose one's self to unnecessary dangers. 
 It is a duty rather to expose one's self, than the public 
 affairs. They are to blame, who rather venture the 
 loss of their armies, than their own reputation. The 
 folly of Callicratidas and CUombrotus in this ; the wis- 
 dom of Fabius Maximus in doing the contrary. Men 
 should speak what they think for the good of the pub- 
 lic, without regarding what offence it may give to 
 others. 
 
 In the business of rasing and plundering cities p, 
 there ought to be taken a very especial care, tjiat no- 
 thing of rashness or cruelty be shewn; and all true 
 greatness of spirit obliges us, having first considered 
 
 p Having shewn in the former chapter what should be the 
 motive of, and how a courageous man should carry himself in 
 war : in this he lays down some rules for his carriage after he 
 has gotten the victory, viz. To shew nothing of passion, 
 cruelty, &c. 
 
chap. XXIV. OFFICES. 0* 
 
 things calmly and maturely, to pardon the multitude, 
 and punish those only that were principally faulty; 
 and in every state and condition of fortune, to observe 
 the jiibt medium of virtue and honesty: for, as we 
 have already observed of some, that they count it more 
 noble to manage affairs of war than of peace ; so you 
 shall find there are a great many others, who imagine 
 that hot and adventurous undertakings have something 
 that is greater and more glorious in them, than wisely 
 cool and deliberate counsels. Now as no man ought, 
 by too warily avoiding of dangers and labours, to get 
 himself the name of a faint-heart and coward ; so, on 
 the other hand, care should be taken that we thrust 
 not ourselves into hazards and difficulties, where there 
 is no manner of occasion for it; than which there is 
 no greater folly upon earth. It is a duty therefore, 
 in attempts of any danger, to imitate the practice of 
 skilful physicians, who always to light and inconsider- 
 able diseases, apply none but easy and gentle remedies 5 
 but in desperate cases are forced to have recourse to 
 desperate cures. It is a madness therefore, while all 
 things are calm and in a peaceful state, to desire a 
 storm ; but to keep off the mischiefs of it when it does 
 happen, is the part of a wise and a prudent man 5 
 and so much the more, if the good to be obtained by 
 getting well rid of it, out-balance the evils you may be 
 brought into by the attempt. The danger of some ac- 
 tions only relates to the person that undertakes them q , 
 but that of others to the whole republic -, and again, 
 a man's life is endangered in some, in others his repu- 
 tation, and the good- will of his citizens. It is our 
 duty then, in the former case T , more willingly to ex- 
 
 * He has done with those rules which concern a man's car- 
 riage in wars and dangers; but because there are several sorts 
 of dangers, he proceeds to shew, which a man should rather 
 choose. When Fabius, for instance, was Roman general; 
 should he fight with Hannibal, the whole republic, should he 
 not, hi.s own reputation, was in danger. It was then his duty 
 nther to hazard the latter, than the former. 
 
 r Viz. When the danger on one hand concerns the state, on 
 the other only the person himself, 
 
70 TOLLY'S uook i. 
 
 pose and endanger ourselves, than the whole state 5 
 and in the latter 5 , to fight for our glory and reputation, 
 more readily than any other conveniences whatever. — 
 Yet the contrary to this appears plainly in the practice 
 of a great many men', who are willing to spend their 
 estates and lives for the good of their country, but will 
 not bear the least diminution of their honour, though 
 the present occasions of the republic require it. Thus 
 Callicratidas, admiral of Sparta, in the Peloponnesian 
 war, after he had done many signal services, at last 
 was the occasion of ruining all) for when he was ad- 
 vised to retreat with his navy from Arginussa , and not 
 venture giving the Athenians battle, he utterly refused 
 it; and told his advisers, that if this whole navy should 
 chance to, be lost, the Lacedaemonians could fit out 
 another; but that he for his part could never fly, 
 without an irreparable loss of his honour. — And here 
 the Lacedaemonians had, though a great, yet a tole- 
 rable blow 5 but that other * was mortal, and put a full 
 period to the Spartan greatness, when their leader, 
 Cleombrotus, only for fear of being somewhat ill- 
 spoken of, unadvisedly ventured to fight Epaminondas. 
 How much better did Fabius Maximus y do ? concerning 
 whom Ennius has these words : 
 
 8 Viz. When on either side the general only is endangered 
 in his life, reputation, &c. 
 
 * That is, they will rather venture the interest of the repub- 
 lic, than their own honour ; as Callicratidas and Cleombrotus 
 did; which is contrary to the rule he has just now laid down. 
 
 u Two or three little islands adjoining to the lesser Asia, be- 
 tween that and tbe isle Lesbos ; where the Athenians, under 
 the conduct of Thrasibulus, gave a mighty overthrow to the 
 Lacedaemonians, who were led by Callicratidas ; himself being 
 slain in the action. See book xv. of Diod. Sicul. who says, " It 
 was the greatest battle that ever was fought between Grecians." 
 
 x At Leuctra, a town in Bceotia, where the Spartan army, 
 under the conduct of king Cleombrotus, and Archidamus, was 
 entirely routed by the famous Tbeban general Epaminondas ; 
 Cleombrotus himself being killed in the battle. 
 - y Fabius being made general against Hannibal, would not 
 come to a battle with him, but endeavoured to weary him out 
 by delays ; for which he was called Cunctator, the delayer. 
 
CHAP. XXV. 
 
 OFFICES. 
 
 One man our state has sav'd by wise delays : 
 For be regarded not the foolish prate 
 Of idle people ; but the city's good; 
 Therefore his growing tame now flourishes 
 More, when his deeds are past. 
 
 The same kind of fault should also be avoided in 
 civil administrations 2 ; for a great many men are afraid 
 to speak out what they really think, though perhaps it 
 is for the best, for fear it should give any offence to 
 others. 
 
 CHAR XXV. 
 
 Two rules of Plato's to be observed by those ivho govern 
 the state. The good of the governed ought to be their 
 sole aim. An excellent description of a good minister 
 of state. Ambition very destructive in a government. 
 A good saying of Plato s to that purpose. Men should 
 carry themselves civilly towards those who are of an 
 opposite party in the state, and not count them their 
 enemies. The example of Scipio and Metellus. Anger 
 towards an adversary no part of courage. Affability, 
 &c. requisite in a statesman. Severity and chastise* 
 ments sometimes necessary ; and rules to be observed 
 about them. Nothing can be well done that is done in 
 a passion. Rulers should be like the laws themselves. 
 
 X HOSE who design to be partakers in the govern- 
 ment, should be sure to remember those two precepts 
 
 At first he was abused and called coward for this ; but after- 
 wards it was found by experience to be the best course ; and 
 then no one was so much commended as he. See his life in 
 Plutarch. 
 
 2 By this step he passes from the rules relating: to military 
 fortitude, to those which relate to civil ; of which he gives se- 
 veral ; as, first, here, to speak one's mind freely, &c. Secondly, 
 in the next chapter, to observe Plato's two rules, &c. 
 
n TULLY'S book i. 
 
 of Plato 5 first, to make the safety and interest of their 
 citizens, the great aim and design of all their thoughts 
 and endeavours, without ever considering their own 
 personal advantage. And, secondly, so to take care 
 of the whole collective body of the republic, as not to 
 serve the interest of any one party; to the prejudice 
 or neglecting of all the rest. For the government of a 
 state is much like the office of a guardian or trustee; 
 which should always be managed for the good of the 
 pupil, and not of the persons to whom he is entrusted ; 
 and those men who whilst they take care of one, neg- 
 lect or disregard another part of the citizens, do but 
 occasion sedition and discord, the most destructive 
 things in the world to a state : from whence it comes 
 to pass, that while some take part with the popular 
 faction, and others make their court to every great one, 
 there are but very few left who are concerned for the 
 benefit and good of the whole. From this root have 
 sprung many grievous dissensions amongst the Athe- 
 nians ; and not only tumults, but even destructive civil 
 wars in our own republic; things' which a worthy and 
 truly brave citizen, and one who deserves to hold the 
 reins of the government, will shun and detest; and 
 will give himself so to the service of the public, as to 
 aim at no riches or power for himself; and will so take 
 care of the whole community, as not to pass over any 
 one part of it. Such a one will scorn, by the mean 
 arts of calumny and a false accusation, to bring others 
 into hatred and disrepute with the people, but will al- 
 ways adhere to what is just and honest, and never be 
 drawn from it, whatever offence may be taken by 
 others; nay, will rather part with his life itself, than 
 do any thing that is contrary to the virtues I have men- 
 tioned. Eager ambition, and contending for honour, 
 is of all things most ruinous and destructive to a state; 
 concerning which Plato had said admirably well, 
 " That for men to contend and fall out with one an- 
 (t other, about which should be chief in the manage- 
 " ment of the state, is just as if the ship's crew should 
 6( go together by the ears, about who should be master 
 
chap. xx\ . 
 
 OFFICES. 
 
 M or pilot of the vessel." And the same philosopher 
 has given us this for a rule, " That only those men 
 " should be reckoned as enemies, who have taken up 
 " arms in opposition to the republic; not those who 
 " would govern it after their own schemes." Such was 
 the dissension' between P. Africanus and Q. Metel- 
 lus b , without any great bitterness or animosities be- 
 tween them. Some people think it the part of a brave 
 and heroic spirit, to shew heat of anger and passion 
 against an adversary ; but what they say is by no 
 means to be regarded 5 for it is certain on the other 
 hand, that nothing is more laudable, nothing more 
 worthy of a great and brave person, than clemency, 
 meekness, and gentleness of spirit. In cities that are 
 free, and where all men in common enjoy the same 
 privileges, courtesy and affability, and that which they 
 call altitudo antral, a calm and undisturbed temper of 
 mind, are peculiarly requisite 5 for to fret upon every 
 unseasonable visit, or at every impertinent and trouble- 
 some petitioner, makes a man sour and morose in 
 his humour j which, as it brings no manner of good 
 to himself, so it gets him the hatred and ill-will of 
 others. But though meekness and clemency be lauda- 
 ble virtues, yet no further than as they leave room for 
 a just severity, whenever the occasions of the public 
 require it; without which a city can never be well- 
 governed. Now every reproof and chastisement in 
 the first place c , should be always free from contume- 
 
 a The quarrels between citizens are of two sorts; 1. Civil, 
 when each desires the good of the public, but takes several 
 ways of arriving at it ; such was this here mentioned. The 
 other hostile, when one endeavours to ruin, the other to uphold, 
 the state ; such was that between Cicero and Cataline. 
 
 b P. Africanus the younger and that Metellus who was sur- 
 naraed Macedonicus, from his conquest of Macedonia. They 
 always rivalled and opposed one another in the affairs of the 
 public, but never so as to become inveterate enemies. 
 
 « He had been saying, a governor should be meek and 
 courteous, but not so as to exclude severity, when occasion re- 
 quires it ; this naturally brought him to discourse, how crimi- 
 nals should be punished ; which he does by laying down seve- 
 ral rules ; as, first, that no ill language be given the?n, 8fc. 
 
 H 
 
74 TULLYS book i. 
 
 lious language, and not inflicted for the sake of the 
 person chastising or reproving another, but for the 
 good and advantage of the whole republic. Diligent 
 care should be taken, in the next place, that the 
 penalty be proportioned to the nature of the crime; 
 and that some do not pass without ever being ques- 
 tioned, while others are punished for the same misde- 
 meanors. But of all things, anger should be excluded 
 in punishing^ for whoever comes to this work in a 
 passion, will never observe that due mediocrity, which 
 equally abstains from too much and too little, so 
 strictly required by the Peripatetic d schools; and they 
 have very good reason indeed to require it ; but then I 
 cannot but wonder they should commend anger, and 
 say, nature has given it us to good ends and purposes : 
 for that in truth ought in no case to be allowed of 5 
 and it were heartily to be wished that the governors of 
 a state would, in this particular, be like the laws them- 
 selves, which punish offenders according to justice, 
 without being any ways guided by passion, 
 
 * The Peripatetics hold, that the passions, viz. anger, &c, 
 are in themselves neither good nor bad, but accordingly as they 
 are made either good or ill use of ; and that they are given us 
 by nature for very good ends and purposes, if we do not let 
 them get the upper hand of our reason, but reduce them to a 
 certain mediocrity and temperament. But the Stoics, whom 
 Cicero follows in this book, said the passions were absolutely 
 in themselves evil, called them diseases and infirmities of the 
 mind ; and commanded their wise men not to moderate, but 
 -wholly to root out all anger, joy, compassion, &c. 
 
chap. xxvi. OFFICES. 7* 
 
 CHAP. XXVI. 
 
 Greatness of soul requires an even temper, free from 
 haughtiness in prosperity, and dejectedness in adver- 
 sity. Philip greater than Alexander, in hearing his 
 good fortune with an even mind. The higher men 
 are, the more care they should take of being humble 
 and moderate. An admirable saying of Scipio to this 
 purpose. In prosperity we should especially consult 
 our friends, and have a care of flatterers. Greatness 
 of soul seen often among the philosophers, and thost 
 who in private manage their own estates. How an 
 estate should be got, improved, and used. 
 
 ANOTHER great duty of fortitude* is, not to be 
 haughty, disdainful, and arrogant when fortune favours 
 us, and all things go forward according to our wishes : 
 for it shews as much meanness and poorness of spirit 
 to be transported with good, as it does with ill-fortune \ 
 whereas, on the other hand, nothing is more brave 
 than an evenness of temper in every condition, and 
 (as is reported of Socrates and Lselius) a constant re- 
 taining the same air in one's countenance, without 
 ever seeming puffed up or dejected. I find that Philip f , 
 the king of Macedonia, was inferior to his son in the 
 outward glory and splendor of his achievements, but 
 very far above him in good nature and condescension ; 
 therefore the father kept always the character of a 
 great person, whereas the son often was guilty of base 
 
 • The rules which follow, equally concern the civil and mi- 
 litary sort of fortitude, not to be puffed up at the good success 
 of our affairs, nor dejected at the ill, &c. 
 
 f The second of that name, son of Amyntas, whom he suc- 
 ceeded in the throne. A cunning, valiant, and ambitious 
 prince. He conquered the Thebans, Athenians, and other 
 neighbouring nations, till at last he was made generalissimo of 
 all the Grecian forces. He laid the foundation of that empire, 
 which Alexander the Great, his son, brought to its height. See 
 them compared together in Justin^ book ix. c, 8. 
 
 H2 
 
76 TULLY'.S 
 
 BOOK I, 
 
 and dishonourable actions g. It is a good rule therefore, 
 I think, which is given by some men, that the higher 
 our station in the world is, the more care we should take 
 of our lives and actions, that they be kept within the 
 compass of lowliness and humility. Pansetius tells us it 
 was an usual saying with his scholar and familiar friend 
 Africanus, " That men who give the reins to their 
 €< vicious appetites, and are high and presuming upon 
 " the greatness of their fortunes, should be dealt with 
 " like horses, when grown fierce and unruly by frequent 
 € ' engagements 5 for as these are delivered to breakers 
 " to tame, and be made fit for riding ; so those should 
 rt be brought within the barriers and limits of reason 
 ""and philosophy, to teach them the uncertainty of 
 <( all human things, and the great volubility and 
 " changeableness of fortune/' We should also in 
 prosperity more especially make use of the counsel of 
 our friends, and pay more respect and deference to 
 their advices than we were wont to do. At the same 
 time also we should take a great care, that we do not 
 give over much ear to flatterers, nor suffer ourselves 
 to be wheedled and imposed upon by their deceitful 
 words : for there is nothing wherein we are more apt 
 to be mistaken, than in this particular ; every one hav- 
 ing such a fond conceit and opinion of himself, as to 
 think he deserves those applauses which they give him. 
 Hence spring innumerable errors in our lives \ whilst 
 men, puffed up with a vain imagination and mistaken 
 notions of their own great merit, are exposed to the 
 raillery of all the world besides, and are cheated into 
 great and dangerous mistakes. And so much may 
 suffice upon this head. From what has been said we 
 may easily gather, that those who are over affairs of 
 the public, do the greatest actions, and such as express 
 the most bravery of mind; their business affording 
 them more opportunities, and there being more men 
 who are concerned in this, than in any other method 
 
 * As in the murder of his friends CHtus, CalistheneSj &c„ 
 See jQ. Onrtius, 
 
chap. xxvi. OFFICES. 77 
 
 of living whatever. But after all*, we cannot but ac- 
 knowledge there are. and have been, a great many 
 noble spirits, even in a life of retirement and privacy, 
 who being sequ stored from the business of the world, 
 h.ive gi\en up themselves to enquiries after truth, and 
 the greai concernment of the practice of \irtue: or 
 else leading a life in the middle, as it were, between 
 the statesman and philosopher, have been delighted 
 with the management of their own private fortunes; 
 not scraping up money by all manner of ways, or 
 hoarding it so as to make nobody the better for it ; but 
 parting with it freely for the sake of their friends, or 
 to serve the republic, when occasion required it. Now 
 this private estate 1 would have, in the first place, to be 
 honestly come by, not by any base, scandalous, or invi- 
 dious way of gaining: then let it be distributed to the 
 uses and necessities of as many as is possible, provided 
 they are worthy and deserving people: and let it be 
 increased by such ordinary methods of saving and 
 good husbandry, as are agreeable to the dictates of 
 reason and prudence -, and lastly, let none of it be 
 spent in debauchery and luxurious living, but in acts 
 of munificence and liberality towards others. Who- 
 ever observes these measures laid down, let his way of 
 life be either public or private, may perform all the 
 duties of magnanimity, constancy, and greatness of 
 soul, as well as of sincerity, fidelity, and doing good 
 to mankind. 
 
 h Having done with the public, be comes next to the private 
 fortitude. Of this be omits the former branch, viz. the con- 
 templative, having discoursed of it already in chap. 6. Of the 
 latter which relates to private gentlemen, managing their own 
 estates, he gives a few precepts; as, first, that their estate be 
 well gotten, &c. 
 
 h3 
 
78 TULLY'S 
 
 BOOK I. 
 
 CHAP. XXVII. 
 
 The virtues contained under the fourth head of honesty. 
 Whatever is honest, and nothing else but that, is be- 
 coming a man; honesty and decency being really the 
 same thing, and distinguished only by an act of the 
 mind. Two sorts of decorum, and what the nature of 
 each of them is. 
 
 WE are now in the next place to speak of the fourth, 
 and only remaining part of virtue or honesty, under 
 which are comprehended bashful ness, temperance, 
 modesty, government of the passions, and the observ- 
 ing a just order as to time and place in our words and 
 actions ; from all which arises a certain engaging kind 
 of beauty and gracefulness l , which serves to set off and 
 adorn our lives. Under this head is contained that 
 becomingness [decorum, as we call it in Latin] which 
 among the Greeks has the name of srg27rav; which is in 
 its nature so closely united and rivetted to honesty, 
 that there is no way left of pulling them asunder -, for 
 whatever is becoming is likewise honest, and whatever 
 is honest is likewise becoming. The difference between 
 them is so very small, that we may better conceive 
 what it is, than explain it; for whatever becomingness k 
 
 ' By these words I would express our author's quasi ornatus 
 quidam vita, by which it is likely he might mean the same 
 which the Greeks did by their ILotr^io^m or zvxoo-pioc, which Aris- 
 totle comprehends under the virtue of temperance. It is that 
 which gives a lustre and ornament to virtue, like the polishing 
 of a diamond, which makes it more pleasing" and valuable than, 
 when rugged, though then it exceeded all other stones. Thus 
 we see some have a way to s^t off and recommend their virtue ; 
 while others by their too great severity and rigidness, for want 
 of this ornatus, which he here mentions, render both it and 
 themselves distasteful. 
 
 k That is, honesty is as it were the foundation of decorum, 
 which it is built upon ; it being impossible for any thing to be- 
 come, unless it be first honest. I could wish however our au- 
 thor had endeavoured to explain the difference he understood 
 between them, and not contented himself with saying in gene^ 
 ral that it might better be conceived than in words expressed* 
 
oiap. xxvii. OFFICES. 
 
 there is in any action, it immediately arises from 
 the honesty of it. From hence it appears, that be- 
 comingness does not peculiarly belong to this one part 
 of honesty, whereof we are now undertaking to dis- 
 course, but shews itself also in each of the three former. 
 To reason 1 , for instance, and discourse according to 
 the rules of prudence; to go about nothing hut after 
 due consideration, and on every occasion to be quick 
 at espying and defending the truth, are things that are 
 becoming ; whereas to be deceived, to be in an error 
 or mistake, and to be imposed upon, are very unbe- 
 coming, as well as to be mad or besides one's self. So 
 again, all actions of justice are becoming; but those 
 of injustice are both scandalous and unb •coming.—- ■ 
 The same may be said as to the actions of fortitude ; 
 whatever is done with a manful courage and bravery 
 of mind, as it is worthy of, so it becomes a man ; but 
 whatever, on the other hand, shews any cowardice or 
 meanness of spirit, is as contrary to becomingness as it 
 is to true virtue. T conclude therefore, that the de- 
 cency whereof 1 am now discoursing, appertained to 
 each of the four parts of honesty; and so appertaineth, 
 as not to stand in need of any mighty reach of under- 
 standing to perceive it, but is easily discoverable at 
 the first view: for there is something of becoming 
 
 The nature of honesty seems to consist in the conformity of our 
 actions to the judgment of right reason, as the rule or measure 
 which a reasonable creature ought to walk by: but that of 
 decorum in our actions being answentble to the dignity and 
 excellence of human nature, as a character which we ought to 
 live up to in the world. Now nothing can be so, that is not 
 first supposed conformable to the dictates of reason ; and 
 whatever is conformable to the judgment of reason, must of 
 consequence be worthy of a man. For what can be worthy of 
 a reasonable creature, but to live according to that reason 
 which God has given him ? From hence it follows, that deco- 
 rum does as it were result from honestum, as light does from 
 the sun; or (to give our author's own explication of it) as 
 beauty and good colour in the face, doth from a good consti- 
 tution of body. 
 
 1 He shews in particular, how decorum is seen in the three 
 former virtues, prudence, justice, fortitude, 
 
SO TOLLY'S book u 
 
 contained in the very notion and idea of all virtue, 
 from which it is distinguished by the mind alone, and 
 not by the nature of the thing itself Just as the 
 beauty and good colour of the countenance can never 
 be separate from the health of the body, so this be- 
 comingness of which we are speaking, in itself is all 
 one, and, as it were, incorporate with virtue and ho- 
 nesty j but may be distinguished from it by thought 
 and imagination. Now there are two kinds or sorts of 
 it; the one universal™, which belongs to the nature of 
 honesty in general; the other particular, and contained 
 under this, which belongs to the several parts of it. 
 The former is used to be thus defined; decorum, or 
 becoming, is that which is congruous or agreeable to 
 that excellent part of the nature of man n , by which he 
 is distinguished from the rest of the creation. As 
 for the latter, which is contained under this, it is 
 usually described and defined to be that, which is in 
 such manner agreeable to the nature of man, as 
 withal to shew something of temper and moderation, 
 with a certain sweet air of gentility and good man- 
 ners . 
 
 m This is that we have spoken of in the note ahove, which is 
 the offspring of, and necessarily results from the nature of 
 honesty in general. 
 
 n That is, his reason ; it being impossible for any thing to 
 become a man, but that which is agreeable to the rules of right 
 reason : and whatever is reasonable doth at the same time be- 
 come him, in this first and largest acceptation of the word. 
 
 ° There are two things then which constitute and make up 
 the nature of this decorum ; 1st, an agreeableness to the nature 
 of man ; and so far it is the same with the former universal 
 one : but then it adds to it. 2dly, a moderation &c. something 
 that is genteel, handsome, and engaging, which may serve to 
 recommend it in the eye of the world. See the first note ou 
 this chapter. 
 
chap, xxviii. OFFICES. 81 
 
 CHAP. XXVIII. 
 
 Poetical decorum ivhat it is, and how differing from that 
 ive here speak of. Nature has given us a character of 
 >i, &;c, which we ought to live up to. Nature 
 teaches us to have a respect for other men. Propor- 
 tion, regularity, fyc. please wherever they are found. 
 We ought to be concerned about other people s opinion 
 of us. How the duties of justice, and those of modesty, 
 decency, %c. differ. We should live agreeably to na- 
 ture, which will always lead us right. Decency relates 
 both to the actions of the body and mind. The nature 
 or mind of man consists of sense and reason. The 
 former of these ought to obey the latter. 
 
 JL HAT this is so, will more plainly appear, if we 
 consider that decorum or convenience of manners, 
 which the poets aim at in all their writings } concern- 
 ing which, were it anywise necessary to my present 
 purpose, I might largely discourse. Suffice it at present 
 for me only to observe, that the poets are then said 
 to keep this decorum, when each of their persons is 
 brought in saying and doing those things which are 
 suitable to the character he bears in the world. Should 
 yEacus p , for example, or Minos say, 
 
 E'en let them hate me, whilst they dread rae tool ; 
 or, 
 
 The child's entomb'd in its own parent's bowels'; 
 it would be an offence against the rules of decency, 
 
 f Two of the sons of Jupiter, supposed to have been very 
 just and good men ; therefore, after their deaths, made two of 
 the judges of hell. 
 
 i A verse out of Ennius, often quoted by our author. 
 
 r A verse which the poet Accius puts into the mouth of 
 Atreus, who had killed the children of his brother Thyestes, 
 and served them up to him at a banquet. See Seneca's tragedy 
 of Thyestes, 
 
SS TULLY'S iooki, 
 
 because they pass in the world for men of justice and 
 honesty; but let the same be said by a cruel Atreus, 
 and the whole theatre shall clap and applaud it, be- 
 cause it is a saying very agreeable to his character. 
 Now the poet can judge what is becoming and con- 
 venient for every person, according to the character 
 which he bears in the poem*: but nature has given 
 every one of us a character, by endowing us with that 
 nobleness and excellence of being, whereby we are set 
 above all other creatures. The poets then, there being 
 so great a variety of characters, can see what is becom- 
 ing and convenient for all, even the most vicious ; but 
 we have got only one character to live up to, I mean 
 that which is assigned us by nature herself j a character 
 of temperance and modesty, of constancy and mode- 
 ration. And the same nature having also taught us 
 that we ought to be careful of our carriage and 
 demeanor towards the rest of men $ from hence it 
 appears of how large an extent that becomingness is, 
 which belongs to the nature of honesty in general «, 
 and also that other, which is seen in the exercise of 
 the several kinds of it u . For as the beauty and come- 
 liness of the body draws the eyes to it by the fit compo- 
 sure of all its members, and pleases us only upon this 
 account, because all its parts correspond with a kind 
 of proportion and harmony; so this decorum, which 
 gives a sort of lustre and grace to our lives, engages 
 
 1 There is a difference between the poetical and moral de- 
 corum : the poet himself can give such or such a character, (a 
 vicious one if he pleases) and his decorum consists in the per- 
 son's speaking and doing what is agreeable to such a character. 
 But nature (i. e. the God of nature) has given one'to every one 
 of us, by making us reasonable understanding creatures. As 
 therefore a poetical person must speak and do what is suitable 
 to his character, so are we bound in all our thoughts, words, 
 and actions, to follow the dictates of understanding and right 
 reason ; in which consists the nature of universal decorum, 
 
 * Which consists in living up to that character of temperance, 
 &c. which nature has given us. 
 
 • Which consists of being careful in our carriage and de- 
 meanor towards the rest of men, which the same nature has 
 taught us to be, in giving no offence to any otic 9 &o. 
 
•hap. xxviii. OFFICES. 83 
 
 the approbation and esteem of all we live with, by 
 that just and clue order, consistency, and regularity, 
 which it keeps up and maintains in our words and ac- 
 tions. We ought x to have therefore a certain respect 
 and reverence for all men, and desire to be approved 
 not only by the best, but by all the world ; for not to 
 care a farthing what it is people think of one, is a sign 
 not only of pride and conceitedness, but indeed of 
 having perfectly abandoned all modesty. But here' 
 we must observe, that there is a great deal of difference 
 between that which justice, and that which this mo- 
 desty, respect, or reverence demands, in relation to 
 other people, it is the duty of justice, not to injure 
 or wrong any man; of respect, or reverence, not to 
 do any thing that may offend or displease him ; where- 
 in more especially the nature of that decorum we are 
 speaking of consists. These things then being thus 
 explained, I suppose it may clearly enough appear 
 what that is which we mean by becoming. As for the 
 duties prescribed by it, the first thing to which it con- 
 ducts us is, to demean ourselves suitably and agree- 
 ably to our nature, and do nothing that may anyways 
 etain or deface it : for whilst we take this for our guide 
 and conductress, it is impossible we should ever go outf 
 of the way* 3 but by her shall be led through all the 
 
 * Men ought to frame and compose their actions, not ac- 
 cording to their own private will and fancy, but according to 
 the prescriptions and manners of those with whom they con- 
 verse ; so far as is innocent and not contrary to virtue ; to be 
 easy and compliant in things indifferent, and by a civil, gen- 
 teel, and affable deportment, endeavour to oblige and win the 
 affections of all men. And he that will follow his own humour, 
 without caring whether he pleases or displeases men, where he 
 might innocently do it, is deservedly censured for a proud, 
 arrogant, and unmannerly fellow. 
 
 y Modesty, or the second sort of decorum, consisting (as is 
 said) in our due carriage towards other men ; and justice also 
 in another manner doing the same ^ he here shews wherein 
 they differ, and what the distinct duties of each. 
 
 * For virtue itself consists in acting agreeably to the dic- 
 tates of nature, i. e. reason : in following her therefore we 
 
84 TULLY'S book i. 
 
 paths of wisdom, truth, and understanding: of justice 
 and beneficence towards the society of mankind j and 
 of true magnanimity and greatness of soul. But the 
 nature of decency is more peculiarly seen in the fourth 
 part of honesty, concerning which we are now dis- 
 coursing; and relates not only to the motions of the 
 body, but more especially to those of the mind also; 
 each of which then are approved and becoming, when 
 they are such as are proper and suitable to nature, — 
 Now the whole of the nature 3 or mind of man is 
 made up of only these two parts : the first consists in 
 the sensitive appetite, which by the Greeks is called 
 htfw ; by the blind and extravagant impulse of which, 
 he is hurried and transported from one thing to an- 
 other : the second is reason, which shews and instructs 
 him in the way of his duty, telling him what he should 
 do, and what not do : from whence it follows, that it 
 is reason which ought to be the governing faculty 3 and 
 the appetite to be subject to the commands of it. 
 
 CHAP. XXIX. 
 
 Our actions should neither be rash nor careless, fyc. How 
 the sensitive part should be subject to the reasonable. 
 Passion disorders the body as well as mind. Watch- 
 fulness and consideration necessary for the subduing of 
 the passions. Men were not designed by nature for 
 
 . jesting, fyc. but serious studies. Several sorts of jests 
 and diversions. Measures to be observed about them. 
 
 XlrfVERY action therefore should be free, as from 
 precipitancy and rashness on the one hand, so from 
 all carelessness and negligence on the other; nor 
 
 shall but go in the way of virtue, and consequently can never 
 be in the wrong. 
 
 * Since decorum consists in acting suitably to nature, and 
 we must first know what nature is, before we can tell what is 
 suitable to it ; therefore he here tells us wherein it consists. 
 
chap. xxix. OFFICES. 85 
 
 should any thing be done, for which we cannot give a 
 sufficient reason j which is almost the very definition of 
 duty. In order to this the passions must be brought 
 under the power of reason b , so as neither through hasti- 
 ness to run before its orders, nor through coldness and 
 heaviness to disregard them when given ; but all their 
 motions must be so quieted and restrained, as to bring 
 no uneasiness or disturbance to the mind And from 
 this calm and peaceable state of the soul, arises that 
 constancy and moderation we have mentioned : for 
 when once the passions grow unruly and extravagant, 
 and refuse to be guided in their desires and aversions 
 by the rules of prudence, they will run without ques- 
 tion beyond all bounds and measure ; for they aban- 
 don and cast off their allegiance to reason, which they 
 ought to obey by the constitution of nature. By this 
 means are all things turned topsy-turvy, and not the 
 mind only, but even the body also, put very much 
 into disorder and confusion. Do but mark those who 
 are inflamed with a vehement anger or desire ; who are 
 transported with fear, or an over-great joy; and you 
 will see an alteration in their countenances, voices, 
 gestures, and all their actions; which sufficiently gives 
 us to understand (that we may return again to the duty 
 
 h Since God has endowed us with the faculty of reason, to 
 shew and instruct us in the way of our duty, what can be more 
 either sinful or unbecoming, than to stifle the sparks of it by 
 negligence and heaviness ? Or what more unnatural, than to 
 make what should be our guide and directress, become a cap- 
 tive and slave to our irregular passions ? For God has given us 
 that divine faculty to no purpose, if afterwards we refuse to be 
 guided and conducted by it. The great and fundamental duty 
 therefore in this place is, to do nothing but according to the 
 directions of reason, to assert her sovereignty, and never suf- 
 fer her to be captivated by any \icious principle or inordinate 
 lust. 
 
 c For nothing is so wild and ungovernable as the passions, 
 when they have overpowered and got the mastery of reason. — 
 And how then can there be any regularity, temper, or decency 
 in that life, which is under the government of such blind, in- 
 consistent masters ? Distrahuntur in contraries partes impoten- 
 tium cupiditates, (says our author in another place,} cxtm huic 
 ibsccutus sis, illi est rqjugnandum. 
 
 I 
 
86 TULLYS book i. 
 
 now before us) how necessary it is to restrain and 
 give check to the movements of the appetite, and 
 to be always watchful and standing upon our guard, 
 that so we may neither be careless and inconsiderate, 
 lior do any thing rashly and at all adventures. For 
 mankind were never designed by nature merely to 
 sport and idle away their time d , but to follow after 
 grave and serious studies, and business of greater im- 
 portance than play is. Not but that jesting and di- 
 version are allowable, provided we use them but as we 
 do sleep, and other such necessary refreshments of na- 
 ture, viz. after the discharge of our serious and more 
 important duties. And even then we must see that 
 our jesting be neither excessive nor immodest, but such 
 as is handsome and becoming a gentleman; for as 
 boys are allowed not all kinds of sports, but only such 
 as have nothing that is vicious or ill in them ; so in 
 this jesting we should allow ourselves nothing, but what 
 is agreeable to honesty and good manners. We may 
 therefore observe, that jesting or merriment is of two 
 sorts $ the one clownish, abusive, scandalous, and ob- 
 scene; the other handsome, genteel, ingenious, and 
 truly pleasant. Of this kind are several instances to 
 be met with, as in our Plautus*, and the old f Greek 
 
 * Since reason (as was shewn) was the governing part of man, 
 and he is bound to act according to its precepts ; certainly it 
 must follow, that to spend his time in idleness and sloth, in 
 foolish playing a»d impertinent jesting, is contrary to his duty, 
 as being unworthy of that excellent nature which God has be- 
 stowed, on him. This brings him to discourse, how far these 
 things are allowable. As first, as to the measure of jesting, 
 it must not be excessive : as to the matter, it must not be im- 
 modest or abusive, &c. 
 
 « A famous Latin comedian, very well known by his plays, 
 "which are still extant. See his character in the preface to three 
 of them, which are turned into English ; and the commentators 
 on Horace, de Art. Poet. v. 270. 
 
 * Old in opposition to the new. There were in all three 
 sorts of comedy among the Athenians ; the first in the strictest 
 sense old* the authors of which took true stories for their sub- 
 jects, and exposed men publicly by name, though they had 
 otherwise a great deal of handsome writ j this being forbid, the 
 
chap. xxix. OFFICES. 87 
 
 comedians ; so in the writings of the Socratic philoso- 
 phers: to which we may add the ingenious sayings of 
 several men, such as are collected by the senior Cato, 
 and usually go by the name of Apophthegms. There 
 is no great difficulty then to distinguish between a gen- 
 teel and a clownish jest ; the one, if brought in at a 
 seasonable time, and when a man's mind is disengaged 
 from business, is becoming for a gentleman ; the other, 
 for no man at all indeed, when base and unhandsome 
 things are dressed up in filthy and obscene expressions. 
 Our plays * and recreations must also be kept within 
 their due bounds ; and care should be taken that we 
 do not run out into great excesses, and suffer the plea- 
 sure which we take in them to carry us into any thing 
 that is base or unbecoming. Hunting, and the exer- 
 cises of the Campus Martius h , supply us with exam- 
 ples enough of creditable and manly recreations. 
 
 middle comedy succeeded, wherein they still took true subjects, 
 and exposed men as formerly, but under borrowed names ; 
 (these are both of them often, and I suppose here, compre- 
 hended under the name old.) This was followed by the new, 
 wherein they only used feigned subjects, and forbore to abuse* 
 See Horace, Sat. iv. book i. and Art. Poet. ver. 281. and the com- 
 mentators upon him. 
 
 e Having done with jesting, he now proceeds to plays and 
 other recreations ; concerning which almost the same rules are 
 to be observed : they must not be excessive, unhandsome, &c. 
 
 k A field just without Rome, where the youth used to per- 
 form all their sports and exercises. 
 
 l^ 
 
68 TULLYS book t 
 
 CHAP. XXX. 
 
 The excellence of man's nature above that of brutes neces- 
 sary to be considered. Wherein it consists. Some are 
 really beasts under the shape of men. Sensual pleasures, 
 effeminacy, fyc. unbecoming mens nature. Beside reason, 
 which is the common nature of all men, each man has 
 his particular nature or genius. The difference of mens 
 particular natures or dispositions, shewn by a large 
 number of examples. 
 
 JoUT in all enquiries concerning what becomes us, it 
 is of very great moment to be constantly reflecting how 
 much man's nature excels that of beasts and inferior 
 animals 1 . These have no taste or relish for any 
 thing but the pleasures of the body, towards which 
 they are carried with a great deal of eagerness -, where- 
 as nothing is more agreeable and nourishing, as it 
 were, to the mind of man than learning and contem- 
 plation. Hence he is always a seeking or contriving 
 of something that is new, and is greatly delighted 
 with seeing and hearing, for the increase of his know- 
 ledge. And if there is any one too much addicted to 
 sensual pleasures, unless he is transformed into a mere 
 brute, (for some such there are, who are men in name, 
 and not in reality,) but if, I say, any one is too much 
 addicted, and suffers himself to be conquered by 
 pleasure ; yet, for very shame he will hide and con-" 
 ceal his propensions towards it as much as is possible. 
 And what is this now but a plain indication, that sen- 
 sual pleasures are unbecoming the dignity of a reason- 
 able creature k , and ought to be despised and rejected 
 
 * To the end that we may perceive the nobleness and excel- 
 lency of the one above the other, and make it our business to 
 live accordingly. This will shew us (as he goes on to observe) 
 how mean and unworthy an employment it is for a man to 
 wallow in lust and sensuality; how inconsistent with his reason- 
 able nature ; and how much more agreeable to goats and swine. 
 
 k For what else should be the reason, why men are ashamed 
 
chap. xxx. OFFICES. 89 
 
 by him ? and that whoever sets any value upon them, 
 should be sure to take care that he keep within the 
 limits of reason and moderation ? From hence it fol- 
 lows, that we should not have any respect to pleasure, 
 but only to the preservation of our health and strength, 
 in our victuals, clothes, and other conveniences be- 
 longing to the body. And does not the consideration 
 of the same dignity and excellence of our natures, 
 plainly inform us how base and unworthy a thing it is 
 to dissolve in luxury, softness, and effeminacy ? And 
 how brave and becoming it is, on the other hand, for 
 a man to lead a life of frugality and temperance, of 
 strictness and sobriety? And here we must observe 1 , 
 that nature has given us, as it were, a double part to 
 be acted in the world: the first is extended to all men 
 in common, forasmuch as we are all of us partakers of 
 reason, and that prerogative of our nature, whereby 
 we are exalted above other animals ; it is this that con- 
 ducts us in the finding gut our duty, and from it all 
 honesty and becomingness arises : the second is ap- 
 propriate to each in particular 5 for as there is a great 
 deal of difference in bodies, some being nimble and 
 proper for running, others more lusty, and fitter for 
 wrestling; some of a noble and majestic air, others of 
 
 to discover their desires and inclinations for bodily pleasures, 
 but only a sort of natural consciousness, that they are not an- 
 swerable to the dignity of their nature ? 
 
 1 Having- shewn what the true notion of decorum is, and 
 hinted at the duties of it, as it is drawn from the nature of 
 man in general; he now proceeds to a second sort, of it, taken 
 from each one's particular nature. We should not only live 
 so, as is consonant to our general character, right reason ; but 
 every one should endeavour to follow what is agreeable to its 
 particular inclinations, provided there is nothing in them vi- 
 cious or unreasonable. For nothing can ever be handsome or 
 becoming, that is contrary to the tendency of a man's own ge- 
 nius : for whatever is strained and forced, as all such things are, 
 must consequently be indecent. Here therefore he begins to 
 discourse of men's various dispositions, &c. some are naturally 
 witty and merry, others grave and serious, or the like ; and it 
 is impossible one of these should ever sustain the character of 
 the other, but he must come off very awkwardly and unhand- 
 somely, 
 
 13 
 
90 TULLY'S book i.. 
 
 a sweet and engaging kind of beauty ; so there is no 
 less, or rather a far greater variety in humours. Thus 
 Lucius Crassus™, and Lucius Philippus" were men of 
 a great deal of wit and pleasantry: Caius°, the son of 
 Lucius Csesar, of more than they, and a great deal 
 more studied. Whereas the young DrususP and Scau- 
 rus q , at the same time were men of extraordinary gra- 
 vity and severity. Laelius r had abundance of mirth 
 and gaiety 5 his familiar Scipio' much more ambi- 
 tion, and greater austerity and strictness of living. — 
 Amongst the Greeks, Socrates is said to have been 
 one, that was of a very easy and facetious humour j 
 that always loved to be merry and jesting, and was a 
 mighty artist at hiding his meaning under witty ironies 
 and drolling expressions, which sort of men are by the 
 Grecians called ilqms*; whereas Pericles and Pytha- 
 goras" got themselves credit by being of exactly the 
 
 m A famous Roman orator, one of the interlocutors in our 
 author De Oratore, where may be seen enough of his character; 
 particularly an admirable account of his death. Chap. i. book iii. 
 
 n L. Marcius Philippus, a great author and cos. of Rome, 
 An. Urb. 662. Our author calls him magno virum ingenio, book 
 ii. c. xvii. and mentions him in several places of his works. 
 
 * Brother to the elder Catulus, whom we spoke of c. xxii. 
 He is often mentioned by our author for his wit ; particularly 
 very much in his De Oratore, and c. xxxvi. of this book i. 
 
 P M. Livius Drusus, an excellent young Roman gentleman, 
 tribune when Philip was cos. See his character and death in 
 PatercuL book ii. c. xiii. xiv. 
 
 q There were several noble Romans of that name ; one M. 
 Aurelius Scaurus was cos. and slain by the Cimbri, when they 
 broke into Italy. It is likely he means here M. ^Emilius Scau- 
 rus, whom he mentioned c. xxii. 
 
 * He was surnamed the Wi$e> whom he makes speak in his 
 book De Amicitia. 
 
 ■ The younger African us. 
 
 * It is plain, from what he has been saying, that this word 
 is taken here in a good sense. Not for those roguish dissem- 
 blers called by that name, and described by Theophrastus in his 
 characters. Socrates dictus est fywv, (says Quintil. 1. ix. cap. 2.) 
 i. e. Agens imperitum et admirator aliorum tanquam sapientium* 
 
 « The former a famous Athenian general and statesman ; of 
 whom see Plut. and Thucyd. The latter an eminent philosopher 
 of the isle Samos ; founder of the Pythagoric sect, 
 
chap. xxx. OFFICES. 91 
 
 contrary temper. Hannibal among the Carthaginian 
 generals, and, amongst our own, Fabius was crafty 
 and subtle 5 one that knew how to disguise his 
 intentions and keep his counsel j that could make shew 
 of one thing whilst he was really designing another; 
 of exquisite skill for contriving of stratagems, and 
 preventing those laid by the enemy against himself.— 
 In this kind the Grecians give Jason the Pheraean*, and 
 Themistocles, the preference before any others ; and 
 there is one thing of Solon's, which shews he had his 
 share of this cunning and subtilty, when he feigned 
 himself distracted to save his own life y , and withal to 
 do a good piece of service to the public. There are 
 others to be found of just and opposite humour, who 
 think it unlawful to do any thing by stratagem and 
 underhand dealing, but are -all for simplicity and 
 plainness in their actions; lovers of open and undis- 
 guised truth, but haters of every thing that looks like 
 a trick. There are some that will undergo any thing 
 in the world, fawn and crouch to any manner of per- 
 son, if they can but obtain their own ends and designs 
 by it ; as Marcus Crassus we know did to Scylla. 0£ 
 which sort of crafty and complying kind of people 
 Lysander the Lacedaemonian is said to have been the 
 chief 5 whereas Callicratidas, who was admiral of the 
 navy next after Lysander, was quite the contrary. — 
 Again, there is as great a variety in men's ways of 
 
 x So called from Pherae, a town in Thessaly, where he reigned. 
 He was one of the greatest captains of his age, and chosen 
 general of all the Greeks to make war upon the Persians. He 
 was father-in-law of that Alexander Pheraeus, whom he men- 
 tions c. vii. book ii. 
 
 y The Athenians and Megareans had been at war a great 
 while for the isle Salamis. At last the former grew weary of 
 it, and made a law, that whoever proposed fighting for it any 
 more, should lose his life. Solon once finding the place might 
 be recovered, but fearing to speak because of the law, feigned 
 himself mad, that under that disguise he might speak what he 
 would; and coming into the assembly in a strange garb, &c. 
 he repeated some old verses about Salamis ; and by degrees 
 brought it about, that the Athenians resolved to try again for 
 the isle, and recovered it. 
 
n TULLY'S book i. 
 
 discourse, as in their humours and complexions: some 
 who are able to speak very nobly, can yet suit their 
 language to the humours and capacities of the ignorant 
 vulgar j as I remember Catullus, father and son, as 
 also Mucius Mancia could do; and I have heard old 
 people relate the same of Scipio Nasica ; but his father, 
 on the contrary, he who, by slaying Tiberius Grac- 
 chus, put a full end to his ruinous attempts, had none 
 of that affable familiar way of speaking. No more 
 had Xenocrates 2 , the most rigid and severe of all the 
 philosophers; and for that very reason was noted an emi- 
 nent. In short, there is almost an infinite number of 
 these different natures and characters in men, not one 
 of which is in itself to be condemned*. 
 
 CHAP. XXXI. 
 
 Every one should follow his own genius, so far as it is in- 
 nocent. Uniformity or consistency most becoming a 
 man, which cannot be kept up if we run counter to our 
 own natures. The great force of this difference in men's 
 natures. Custom of the actors on the stage. Several 
 other rules relating to the same. 
 
 THE more easily then to arrive at that decorum of 
 which we are speaking, let every one stick to his own 
 peculiar character and humour, provided it has nothing 
 that is vicious in it: I say, provided it, has nothing 
 that is vicious in it; for we should always take a par- 
 ticular care to do nothing that is contrary to that uni- 
 versal character 11 which nature has imprinted on every 
 one of us; but saving the reverence we owe to that, 
 then to live according to our own particular one, so as / 
 to follow after that kind of study, and apply ourselves 
 
 z An eminent philosopher, born at Chalceclon, scholar of 
 Plato, and founder of the Academic sect. He is frequently 
 Enentioned by our author. 
 
 » But only if it be applied to ill ends and purposes. 
 
 * Viz. reason. See note on c. xxix. 
 
chap. xxxi. OFFICES. 93 
 
 to that course of life, which is most suitable and agree- 
 able to our own inclinations, though others perhaps may 
 be more useful and important; for it is in vain to 
 struggle against the bias of your nature, or at first to 
 set upon that sort of business which you can never ar- 
 rive at any perfection in. From what has beon said it 
 more fully appears, what that is which we call becom- 
 ing ; since nothing can be such that is done (as we say) 
 in despite of nature, i. e. contrary to the bent and 
 tendency of a man's genius. Now it is certain, if any 
 thing in the world is becoming, it is a constant uni- 
 formity in our whole lives and particular actions; 
 which it is utterly impossible we should ever maintain, 
 so long as we run counter to our own inclinations, and 
 foolishly follow after those of other people : for as we 
 should use our own native language, which all are sup- 
 posed to understand best, and not lard our talk, as a 
 great many do, with expressions out of Greek, who 
 are therefore deservedly laughed at by others; so we 
 should keep to one constant tenor and regular conduct 
 in our lives and actions, so that nothing may be in 
 them which is not well suited and of a piece with the 
 rest. And this difference d in the characters or natures 
 of men is of so great moment, as that in consequence 
 of it one man may be obliged to make away with him- 
 self, whilst another, though like him as to all other 
 circumstances, may be obliged to the contrary. Cato% 
 for instance, and those who in Afric surrendered them- 
 
 c He means that which results from one's living up to his 
 particular character; not that general one, of which we have 
 6poken before. 
 
 d Because it is impossible wholly to conquer our nature and 
 inclination ; so that though we should, by custom to the con- 
 trary, make shift to keep them under for some time, yet they 
 will certainly break out again, and so spoil that uniformity 
 which is required in our lives. 
 
 • He that was surnamed Uticensis, because he chose rather 
 to kill himself at Utica, than yield to the power of Julius 
 Cajsar. He was great grandson to Censorius. See his life in 
 Plutarch. 
 
94 TULLY'S 
 
 BOOK I. 
 
 selves to Caesar f , were all of them under the same con- 
 dition -, and yet any of the rest might perhaps have 
 been blamed for it, had they murdered themselves so 
 as Cato did, because they were men of less strictness 
 in their lives, and less severity in their manners. But 
 Cato was«i person whom nature had endowed with in- 
 credible firmness and strength of soul, which he had 
 augmented by perpetual constancy, and unalterably 
 adhering to his once undertaken designs and resolu- 
 tions : it became his character therefore to die, rather 
 than to see the face of the tyrant 5 . How many things 
 did Ulysses undergo in his tedious wanderings, when 
 he was forced to be at the pleasure of women, (if 
 Circe h and Calypso* may be called women,) and by 
 fawning words, and fair complaisant speeches, wheedle 
 himself into the favour of all he met with? How did 
 he bear the contemptuous usage of his servants and 
 maids, even in his own palace, that at last he might 
 arrive at his wished-for end k ? Whereas Ajax 1 , ac* 
 
 * Viz. Lucius Caesar, Confidius, &c. See -Comment, de BelU 
 Afric. c. xi. 
 
 * This might be true enough, if to kill himself were a law- 
 ful action, and had nothing in it that is contrary to the univer- 
 sal nature, of which he spake at the beginning of this chapter, 
 Cicero here supposes it lawful, though in other places he talks 
 against it, as following in this work especially the Stoics, who 
 held that life and death were things indifferent in themselves, 
 and that in several cases a wise man might, nay and ought too, 
 to make away with himself. Hence we hear them so often 
 talking of a door's being always open to liberty, whatever mis- 
 fortunes should befal them, &c. See Lips, Stoic Philos. book 
 iii. c. 22. 
 
 fc A notable sorceress, that by her enchantments turned 
 Ulysses' men into swine, goats, &c. but at Jast restored them 
 to their former shape upon his entreaties. See Homer's Odyssey* 
 
 * A nymph that reigned in the isle Ogygia, whither Ulysses 
 was driven in his long wandering, &c. She kept him there 
 seven years. 
 
 k Viz. To kill those who courted his wife in his absence.— 
 This he could not hav*- done had he discovered himself; there- 
 fore he came in a beggar's habit, and was contemptuously used 
 by his own servants. 
 
 1 One of Homer's chief heroes in the Trojan wars ; of % 
 
ohai\ xxxi. OFFICES, 95 
 
 cording to the character we have of him, would rather 
 have died a thousand deaths than ever have submitted 
 to such mean compliances. These observations should 
 teach us all to look carefully every one into himself, 
 and consider well what is hU peculiar genius, and en- 
 deavour to make the best use of it that he is able 5 and 
 not to be foolishly trying experiments, to see how he 
 can succeed in what is another body's talent : for it is 
 certain, that nothing becomes a man so well, as that 
 which is best suited to his own inclinations. Every 
 one therefore should inform himself thoroughly which 
 way his humour and genius lies - y and be severe in exa- 
 mining what he is well fitted or not fitted for 5 other- 
 wise the players may seem to be wiser than we are; 
 for they, when they pitch upon what they will act, do 
 not always choose those parts that are best, but those 
 that are best suited to their humours and abilities. — 
 They that have the ablest voices, for instance, Epigoni m 
 or Medus n ; they that have most action, Menalippa* 
 or ClyteemnestraP; Rupilius, whom I remember, had 
 always the part of Antiopa q , and J£sop r very rarely 
 
 haughty and proud spirit that scorned to yield and give way 
 to any one ; and disdained to submit himself to any thing low 
 or mean. 
 
 m A tragedy of Euripides, or, as some think, Sophocles, so 
 called because it treats of the second Theban war, which was 
 managed by the children of those who died in the first: the 
 word in Greek signifying descendants or children. It was trans- 
 lated into Latin by Accius. 
 
 n The son of Medea, the famous sorceress, who when his 
 mother had fled away upon the clouds, went all about the world 
 to seek her ; which is the subject of this tragedy. It was writ- 
 ten by Pacuvius, a Latin poet, nephew to Ennius. 
 
 Sister of Antiope, queen of the Amazons, taken prisoner 
 by Hercules, but ransomed by Antiope with his armour and 
 belt : upon which Accius made this tragedy. 
 
 P Wife of Agamemnon, notorious for her living with /Egis- 
 thus while her good man was at the Trojan war ; and for mur- 
 dering him by his help as soon as he came home. This was one 
 of Accius's tragedies. 
 
 1 Wife of Lycus, king of Thebes, whom Jupiter fell in love 
 with, and begat on her Amphion and Zethus. 
 
 1 A famous acter at Rome, of whom Cicero is said to have 
 
96 TULLY'S 
 
 BOOK I, 
 
 that of Ajax. And shall actors observe this in choosing 
 their parts, and wise men not do it in choosing their 
 business and way of living in the world ? We should 
 therefore apply ourselves especially to that which we 
 find most agreeable to the bent of our natures; but if 
 we should chance to be driven upon any thing which 
 is not so proper for our parts and talents, we should 
 make it our business by care and application, if not to 
 go through with it the most perfectly that is possible, 
 yet at least with as few faults as ever we are able. And 
 let us rather labour to avoid those vices which we are 
 naturally inclined to, than try to arrive at those excel- 
 lencies and perfections which we were never made for. 
 
 CHAP. XXXII. 
 
 Duties arising from men's several stations and professions 
 in the world. They whose fathers have been famous, 
 imitate their virtues, or add to them. The choice of 
 a profession very difficult Prodicus's story of Hercules. 
 What usually determines men in the choice of a way 
 of life. 
 
 xjUT beside those two parts which I have already 
 mentioned, there are still two others remaining behind • : 
 the one is allotted us by time and chance ; the other 
 we ourselves choose voluntarily to ourselves. To the 
 first appertain one's being a king, a general, or a ma- 
 learned pronunciation. He was grave and sedate in his action, 
 and so unfit to represent the violence and transports of Ajax. 
 
 9 Having done with that decorum which consists in acting 
 according to universal nature or reason ; and the second accord- 
 ing to our own particular one ; he comes now to a third, which 
 arises from acting agreeably to our place, or station in the 
 world. Now this station we may have two ways, either from 
 fortune, or eur own choice. To be a prince, for instance, a 
 general, or the like, are things of fortune ; but to be a lawyer, 
 a philosopher, or tradesman, of choice. It always becomes 
 us, whatever character we bear in the world, whether of prince 
 or peasant, soldier or gownsman, to do those things which are 
 suitable to such a character. 
 
ttt*. Ui, OFFICES. *7 
 
 gistrate; coming of a great family ; having riches and 
 power 5 together wilh the contraries of all these; 
 which are all of them things that depend upon fortune, 
 and alter according to the difference of times. As for 
 the second, it is altogether left to our own choice what 
 sort of calling we have a mind to be of ; accordingly 
 some choose to study philosophy, others the civil law, 
 and a third sort eloquence 3 and of the virtues them- 
 selves, some are desirous of being eminent in one kind* 
 and some in another. Now* those men whose fathers 
 or ancestors have been eminent in any one kind, for 
 the most part endeavour to excel in the same : as 
 Quintus u the son of Publius Mucius did in the civil 
 law ; Africanus x the son of Paulus in martial achieve- 
 ments. And some, not content with the glory of their 
 ancestors, have added something else of their own to 
 it; as that Africanus, whom 1 just now mentioned, 
 who, beside his great fame for military exploits, made 
 himself noted for his learning and eloquence. The 
 same did Timotheus y , the son of Conon, who was 
 equal to his father in the glory of war, and obtained 
 that of learning and ingenuity besides. But it bap- 
 pens sometimes, that omitting to tread in the steps of 
 their fathers, some take new methods and designs of 
 their own ; which, generally speaking, is the case with 
 those who are born of mean parents, and propose to 
 rise and make their fortunes in the world. Each of 
 
 * The decorum be is going to speak of consisting in doing 
 that which is agreeable to one's station and way of life in the 
 world ; this brings him to discourse of the methods people take 
 in choosing their ways of life ; as some endeavour to follow their 
 fathers, &c. 
 
 « Q. Mutius Scaevola, who was augur, and son-in-law to the 
 wise Laelius, whom he mentions at the beginning of his bookcte 
 Amicitia y to whom his father recommended him for the study of 
 the civil law: he was Cos. with L. Metellus, An. U. C. 636. 
 There was another of this name at the same time, who was 
 Pont ?f ex maximnt. 
 
 x Scipio Africanus Minor, who was son of Paulus ^milius, 
 but adopted by P. Scipio, the son of Africanus Major. 
 
 y Two famous Athenian generals. See the lives of them 
 both in Corn.Nep. 
 
 K 
 
SS TULLYS book i 
 
 these things should be thoroughly considered and re- 
 volved in our mind, whenever we deliberate what will 
 become of us. The first thing then to be determined 
 is, what sort of men we design to be, and what course 
 of living to take to in the world, which is a case of all 
 others the most hazardous and difficult. For when 
 people are young, and consequently most foolish, they 
 generally pitch upon that way of life which then 
 best pleases their unexperienced fancies : so that they 
 are fixed and engaged in a certain course, before they 
 have the judgment to discern what is best. Prodicus* 
 indeed (as I find it in Xenophon) tells us this story 
 concerning Hercules, "That when he was a youth, 
 €€ which is the proper season allotted by nature for 
 €€ choosing a way of life, he withdrew himself into a so- 
 <c litary place, and there having found out a couple of 
 gt ways, the one of pleasure, and the other of virtue, 
 €s he sat musing, and considered a while with himself, 
 4€ which of these two he had best to follow. " Such a 
 thing as this might happen to Hercules the son of Jupi- 
 ter 5 but it is not for us to expect the same, who each 
 of us take whom we please for our patterns, and suf- 
 fer ourselves to be drawn any whither, according as 
 they lead us. We have most of us principles instilled 
 by our parents, and follow their customs and manners 
 of living ; others are guided by popular opinion, and 
 like that best which takes the most. However, there 
 are some, whether it be out of mere good fortune, or 
 an happy temper and disposition of soul, or lastly by 
 the care and instructions of their parents, that pursue 
 light methods and ways of living. 
 
 * Prodicus was a sophist in the island of Cos, one of Euripi- 
 des's masters ; who in a book of his concerning 1 Hercules, 
 brings in this story, as Socrates tells it in Xenophon's Memorab* 
 bookii. c. i. therefore he calls him here Herculem Prodicium. 
 
chap, xxxiii. OFFICES. 09 
 
 CHAP. XXXIII. 
 
 Few so happy as to consider thoroughly what way of life 
 they should choose. The principal thing to be regarded 
 in choosing is ones own genius; next to that, one's 
 fortune in the world, dfter a man has chosen, he 
 should stick to his choice, without great reasons to the 
 contrary. How a change should be made. Two cau- 
 tions to be observed about imitating our ancestors. 
 Those men whose nature is not capable of some, should 
 take the more care that they have other virtues. The 
 best inheritance a father can leave his son, is the fame 
 of his virtues. It is a mighty shame for a son to be 
 unworthy of the fame of his ancestors. 
 
 BUT those of all are the most difficult to be found, 
 who having sufficient natural parts, or sufficient im- 
 provements of learning and education, or both these 
 together, have withal had due time to consider with 
 themselves what is the best course of life they can fol- 
 low in the world. Now* in this deliberation, the prin- 
 cipal thing which we ought to regard is, each man's 
 peculiar nature and genius : for since the decorum of 
 each particular action, as before was observed, is taken 
 from the disposition of the person that does it; sure 
 that disposition should be carefully consulted, before 
 we determine upon our whole way of living; it is 
 otherwise impossible we should keep a due tenor and 
 consistency in our lives, and not sometimes falter in 
 the performance of our duty\ But though nature in 
 this case has much the greater sway, yet fortune cornea 
 in for a share next after her; both of them therefore 
 should be duly consulted in making choice of a calling, 
 but more especially nature; for fortune is inconstant 
 
 a Two things which ought to be carefully considered by us 
 in choosing our calling-: first, our natural disposition and ca- 
 pacity for it, secondly, our fortune and outward circumstances 
 in the world. 
 
 b See note on c. xxxi. 
 
 K AH 
 
100 TOLLY'S book u 
 
 and often changing, but nature is firm, and will abide 
 by us ; so that for the former to oppose this latter, is 
 like a mortal power's contending with an immortal. — 
 That man c then, who has chosen a way of living that 
 is suitable to his nature d , provided that nature be no 
 ways vicious, should make it his next care never to alter 
 it; for nothing is less becoming than a humour of 
 changing. But if upon trial he should find that he 
 was mistaken in the choice of his method, as it is very 
 possible that such a thing may happen, there is no way 
 left but to unravel again what is already done. If the 
 times themselves favour the making such a change, it 
 may be the more easily and conveniently done ; but 
 if not, it must be brought about gradually and insensi- 
 bly, according to that rule which is given by wise men. 
 Whenever you design to break off any friendship ov 
 displeasing acquaintance, you should loosen the knot 
 by little and little, and not try to cut it asunder all at 
 once. And when by this means we have changed our 
 course of life, great care should be taken that we may 
 seem to have done it upon very good seasons. But 
 having before recommended the imitation of our fa- 
 thers and ancestors, I must here interpose an excep- 
 tion or two: in the first place then, we should take 
 great care not to follow them in any thing that is vi- 
 cious or blameable ; nor, secondly, should we attempt 
 it when we find our constitution will not carry us 
 through with it. Thus for instance, the son of the 
 former Africanus, who adopted this latter being son to 
 Paulus, by reason of the weakness and indisposition of 
 his body, could not so well tread in the steps of his 
 father, as his father had done in those of his grand- 
 father*. But then if a man be of such a constitution, 
 
 ' « After the rules about choosing a calling, he proceeds to 
 shew what a man should do after he has chosen : Should not be 
 eager to change, Sfc. 
 
 d His particular nature or genius. 
 
 « P. Cornelius Scipio, a famous and valiant Roman, who, 
 together with his brother, bravely defended Spain, while Han- 
 nibal was in Italy, routing the- Carthaginians in several battles, 
 
chap, xxxiv. OFFICES. 101 
 
 as that he is unable either to plead at the bar, or to 
 harangue the people, or conduet an army, he should 
 take the more care that he does those things which are 
 in his power f j such are the duties of justice and fide- 
 lity, of modesty, temperance, and liberality; the per- 
 formance of which may serve to make amends for 
 his want of the others. Now the noblest inheritance 
 that can ever be left by a father to his son, and far ex- 
 ceeding that of houses and lands, is the fame of his 
 virtues and glorious actions ; and for a son to live so as 
 is unworthy of the name and reputation of his ances- 
 tors, is the basest and most abominable thing in the 
 world. 
 
 CHAP. XXXIV. 
 
 The respective duties belonging to each age. Old men 
 should have an eye upon youth. Vice is doubly evil in 
 old men, because of the ill example given to the 
 young. The duties of magistrates, private citizens, and 
 strangers. Nothing more becoming in all sorts of peo» 
 pie than constancy and regularity. 
 
 AND since each age has its respective duties belonging 
 to it, and the same things become not both young and 
 old, I must add something also upon this distinction *. 
 It is required then of the younger sort of people, that 
 
 At last they were both slain, and young Scipio, who was after- 
 wards first surnamed Africanus, succeeded them. 
 
 f Those who, for any of the aforementioned reasons, relin- 
 quish the public, must not think themselves immediately ex- 
 cused from serving it in their proportion, and in the way they 
 are able. The most solitary life should do some good, and re- 
 tirement should not minister to luxury or idleness, but to vir- 
 tue and sobriety. Those that cannot shew their valour, elo- 
 quence, or policy for the public, may however their modesty, 
 liberality, fidelity, &c. in retirement. 
 
 « Another sort of decorum consists In acting agreeably to 
 one's age j in youth's doing what is proper for youth, &c« 
 
 k3 
 
102 TULLY'S book i, 
 
 they pay due reverence to those that are old, and 
 choose out the best and most approved among them, by 
 whose counsel and direction they may steer their lives ; 
 for indeed the unskilfulness and inexperience of youth 
 does stand in some need of the prudence of old age 
 to be its guide and director. This age especially 
 should be kept from all loose and effeminate living, 
 and be inured to labour, and enduring hardships both 
 of body and mind ; that so they may be able to bear 
 with the toils and fatigues of business, whether in 
 peace or war : and if they do at any time slacken their 
 mind/ and give themselves up to their pleasures and 
 refreshments, great care should be taken that they ex- 
 ceed not the limits of temperance and modesty. And 
 in order to this, it would be very convenient, if some 
 aged people would keep a constant eye upon their 
 sports and recreations. As for old men h , it is their 
 duty to lessen the labours of the body, and employ 
 more frequently those of the mind - y and make it their 
 business, by prudent and wise counsels, to do what 
 good they can to the younger sort of people, to their 
 friends and dependents, and more especially to the re- 
 public. And old men of all things should especially 
 be careful, not to languish out their days in unprofit- 
 able idleness. Luxury and riot is unbecoming in all, 
 is perfectly scandalous and intolerable in old age ; but 
 should lust and wantonness come into the bargain, 
 those who are guilty of it are doubly faulty; for first 
 they bring a shame and disgrace upon themselves, and 
 withal make the young men more shamelessly wicked. 
 Besides these duties already mentioned, it may not be 
 amiss to say something of those which peculiarly be- 
 long either to magistrates, private citizens, or stran- 
 gers 1 . First then, a magistrate ought to consider, that 
 
 h So much for the duties of youth ; he proceeds now to those 
 of old men. 
 
 * This he brings in, as it were, by the bye here : though they 
 might, I think, have been put under the third sort of decorum, 
 living according to one's station and character in the world. 
 See c. xxxii. 
 
cuap. txxv. OFFICES. 103 
 
 he does in his person represent the whole city, and 
 accordingly is bound to maintain the credit and dignity 
 of it: that he is to preserve the laws, and see that all 
 people have their due rights ; remembering that these 
 things are committed to his trust, which he is bound 
 to render up faithfully and honestly. It is the duty of 
 those in a private capacity to live as the rest of their 
 citizens do, neither debasing themselves below their 
 just height, nor endeavouring to raise themselves up 
 above it: and to follow those things which are honest 
 and peaceable in the commonwealth : these are they 
 Whom we usually call and account good citizens. And, 
 lastly, for strangers and sojourners in a place, it is 
 their duty to follow their own business, and not in- 
 termeddle with any body's else ; not to take upon them 
 in what no ways concerns them, or be curious in pry- 
 ing into the secrets of a state which they have nothing 
 to do with. By observing these rules we may, gene- 
 rally speaking, be sure to find our duty, whenever it 
 is enquired what is suitable and becoming 1 for such a 
 person, such a time, or such an age : I shall only add, 
 that in all our designs, and all our undertakings, no- 
 thing is more becoming than constancy and regularity. 
 
 CHAP. XXXV. 
 
 Decorum shews itself outwardly in three things: rules of 
 modesty taken from nature in the frame of our bodies. 
 Obscene talk discovers ill inclinations. The false rea- 
 soning of the Cynics and some Stoics upon this subject. 
 Rules of exterior decency in our carriage, postures, #c 
 The great care the old Romans took of modesty. 
 
 £>UT since this decorum of which we are speaking is 
 seen more especially, and discovers itself in our ac- 
 tions k , our words, and our carriage and exterior orna- 
 
 k Having discoursed of the several sorts of decorum, he 
 
104 TULLY'S book i. 
 
 ments of the body, and consists in one of these three 
 things 1 , in a certain kind of natural beauty and come- 
 liness, in pertinence and well-timing our words and 
 actions, and such other kind of ornaments and outward 
 embellishments as are proper for the business one is 
 going about, (things which it is no easy matter to ex- 
 press, but I hope I am understood, and that is suffi- 
 cient -,) and since that care m which we ought to take, 
 of making ourselves agreeable to those we converse with, 
 consists in a due regulation of these n , 1 shall proceed 
 to discourse of them each in particular. In the first 
 place then, it may be worth our observing, how much 
 care and concern has been shewn by nature, in order- 
 ing the frame and composition of our bodies : those 
 parts which were handsome and agreeable to the sight, 
 she has placed in view 5 but those which could not be 
 so handsomely shewn, and were only given to serve 
 certain ends and necessities of nature, these she has 
 been careful to conceal and cover. A sense of shame 
 and modesty in mankind has seconded this her dili- 
 gence in framing their bodies 5 for all that are not 
 wholly bereaved of their reason, keep those parts hid- 
 den which she has concealed, and are always as secret 
 as they can in those actions which natural necessity 
 
 proceeds to speak of the several things, in which it appears : 
 they are, 1. Our actions. 2. Our words. And, 3. Our bodily 
 carriage, dress, &c. He discourses therefore of each of 
 these. 
 
 1 What Jbrmositas, ordo 9 and ornatus mean, in which he 
 makes decorum to consist, is more difficult to understand, than 
 it is to express ; and commentators cannot agree about it. Not 
 to trouble the reader with their several opinions ; bv formosi- 
 tas (1 suppose) may be understood the natural beauty of the 
 body, and natural clearness of the voice ; and by ornatus the 
 acquired, or adventitious ; of which it will appear he discourses 
 in the four next chapters ; by ordo, a due timing our words and 
 actions ; of which c. xl. 
 
 m See note on c. xxviii. 
 
 * Viz. Our words, actions, and carriage of body. 
 
 He begins with the last of those three things, in which de- 
 eorum shews itself, viz. bodily carriage, dress, &c, of which in 
 this and the next chapter. 
 
chap. xxxv. OFFICES. 105 
 
 forces upon them. Neither do they call by their pro- 
 per and broad names the parts that are given to serve 
 such necessity, nor the uses of them : and modesty 
 forbids us to mention those things, which may be done 
 very honestly, provided it be in secret. Therefore the 
 plain and open talking p of those things, as well as 
 the plain and open acting of them, discovers immo- 
 dest and wanton inclinations. The Cynics q therefore 
 are wholly to be rejected, and some of the Stoics little 
 better than Cynics, who laugh at and blame us for call- 
 ing those things by their proper names which are 
 really dishonest and scandalous in themselves, while 
 we count it a shame to speak plainly of those, in the 
 doing of which there is no manner of dishonesty. — 
 To rob, for example, to cheat, and whore, are actions 
 in themselves the most shameful and scandalous, and 
 yet it is not counted immodest to name them 5 where- 
 
 P Prodit mores plerumque oratio (says Quintil.) et animi secreta 
 detegit ; nee sine causa Grceci prudiderunt. Ut vivat quemque it a 
 etiam dicere. Unwholesome waters argue the fountain, from 
 whence they proceed, to be unwholesome too ; and when peo- 
 ple can delight in such fulsome, lascivious, unbecoming talk, 
 it is a certain sign their inclinations are vicious, and their 
 hearts tend very much to lewdness and debauchery : since from 
 the abundance of these (as the Scripture assures us) the mouth 
 speaketh. 
 
 9 An ill-natured sect of philosophers, followers of Antisthe- 
 nes, that loved to talk and act in opposition to the rest of the 
 world j and to be snarling and biting at every body and every 
 thing ; whence they had their name, the word in Greek signi- 
 fying dogged ov currish. These people holding, that nothing is 
 commendable but only virtue, nor any thing blameable but 
 only vice ; and some of the rigider Stoics with them, cast off 
 all modesty and such kind of things ; not being ashamed of do- 
 ing any thing in public, though never so unbecoming, nor 
 speaking of it openly, provided it ware an action that was not 
 dishonest or vicious in itself. But our author here advises us 
 with very good reason, to disregard what they say ; and rather 
 choose nature for our guide and directress, than any of their 
 vain and frivolous reasonings. For Est aliquid quod nonojjortet, 
 etiam si licet, as he tell* us in another place ; some things there 
 are lawful enough in themselves, which yet modesty and civi- 
 lity oblige us to abstain from. See Epist. xxii. lib. 9. ad Famih 
 
106 TULLYS 
 
 BOOK I. 
 
 as to make one's self a father of children, is an action 
 that is honest and creditable in itself, and yet, forsooth, 
 must not be plainly mentioned, for fear of its giving 
 offence to chaste ears, This, and much more to the 
 same purpose, they commonly urge against bashful- 
 ness ; but let us follow where nature has shewed us the 
 way, and whatever may offend either the eyes or the 
 ears, that let us shun in our carriage and conversation. 
 In all our postures and gestures of body, such as 
 standing, walking, sitting, and leaning r $ nay, in our 
 very countenance, in the cast of our eyes, and mo- 
 tions of our hands, we should be careful to keep and 
 observe what is becoming; in which there is a double 
 extreme to be avoided, that of too much niceness and 
 effeminacy on the one hand, and that of mere clowa- 
 ishness and want of breeding on the other. Nor let 
 any one imagine that these things do well in an actor 
 or orator ; but that we are left free to observe, or not 
 observe them. The actors indeed have had always so 
 much regard for modesty, as that, time out of mind, 
 it has been their custom never to appear upon the 
 stage in public, without something on to conceal those 
 parts which ought to be kept secret 5 for fear lest their 
 clothes being opened by any accident, something might 
 be seen which modesty bids them hide. And our 
 common custom forbids the son, when grown towards 
 man's estate, to bathe with his father, and likewise the 
 son-in-law with his father-in-law. We should there- 
 fore take care to be strict observers of these rules of 
 modesty, especially being such as even nature herself 
 has directed us to. 
 
 r Accubitio signifies the posture they used in eating, viz. 
 leaning on one side upon a couch, which they called iecius, 
 set round about their tables. 
 
«eui\ xxxvi. OFFICES. 107 
 
 CHAP. XXXVI. 
 
 Two sorts of beauty, one proper for men, the other for 
 women. Men should avoid niceness, #c. Nothing 
 affected can become. Rules about clothes, walking, 
 and outward ornaments. Outward carriage discovers 
 the inward dispositions of the mind. More care should 
 be taken to keep decency in the motions of the soul. 
 How this may be done. Two sorts of motions in the 
 soul, the sensitive appetite and reason. How each 
 should be managed. 
 
 HUT since there are two sorts of beauty in the world, 
 oi*e of which consists in charms and sweetness, the 
 other in gracefulness and majesty; the former of these 
 should be left to the women, and the latter only be 
 thought proper for the men. From hence it follows, 
 that these should avoid all unmanlike ornaments and 
 niceness in their habits, and the same in the motions 
 and gestures of their bodies; for all people hate the 
 affected* motions and carriage of those who would be 
 taken for masters of a genteel air; and your actors on 
 the stage have a great many foolish impertinent ges- 
 tures, which are very displeasing and offensive to the 
 spectators: and in each of these kinds, what is simple 
 and unaffected, is always best liked of and approved by 
 the world. In order to have a true graceful comeliness, 
 you must endeavour to keep a good colour in your 
 face -, and the way to do that is to use frequent exer- 
 cise. Nor do we forbid men the use of all ornaments 
 and graces to recommend them, but only of those that 
 
 • Palastrici motus. The Palaestra was a kind of -dancing- 
 school, and place of exercise, where people were taught to 
 move gracefully and agreeably : whence the word is often op- 
 posed to clownish carriage, and, mot as habens Palastram uti* 
 quam, is a genteel becoming motion in our author de Perfect. 
 Oi t. But sometimes, it seems, people learn to be affected and 
 foppish in the Palaestra, as they do now in ordinary dancing- 
 schools among us. 
 
108 TULLYS book i. 
 
 are too exquisite and affected ; so far they are allow- 
 able, as they are necessary to keep a man from being 
 thought a clown, and from shewing a disrespect for the 
 persons he has to do with. And the same rule may 
 serve very well for our clothes -, in which to be mode- 
 rate, as in most other cases, is certainly the best way. 
 We should also avoid an effeminate softness and slow- 
 ness in our gait, like those that are marching along in 
 procession; and no less an over great hastiness and 
 speed, which only begets a deep panting and breath- 
 ing, distorts the face, and perfectly changes the whole 
 air of the countenance, which discovers a lightness 
 and inconstancy of humour. Now if the motions of 
 the body deserve all these pains and concern about 
 them,, how much care should we take to keep those of 
 the mind within the limits prescribed them by nature 
 and right reason e ? which never can be done any other 
 way, than by keeping the soul in such an even tem- 
 per, as not to be concerned or dejected at any thing ; 
 and by a constant care and application of thought, so 
 as to mind nothing but what is honest and becoming. 
 Now the motions of the soul are of two sorts, some of 
 them proceeding from the reasonable or thinking, others 
 from the sensitive and passionate part : the former is 
 busied in nothing but searching and finding out of 
 truth ; by the latter we are pushed and driven forward 
 to action. It is our duty therefore to employ our 
 thoughts about laudable objects : and so to reduce and 
 over- rule the passions, as that they may ebb and flow 
 in obedience to reason. 
 
 * If this be not clone, the motions of the body, however gen- 
 teel and graceful they may be, will but make our folly the more 
 remarkable ; and such sort of men are well enough compared 
 by one, to an ill piece of painting, set off and adorned with a 
 fceautiful frame. Those people therefore, who spend so much 
 time in adorning their outsides, would do well to consider, that 
 tbey do but make themselves the more ridiculous, unless they 
 take care to make their insides answerable. 
 
chap, xxxvii, OFFICES, 109 
 
 CHAP. XXXVII. 
 
 Decorum shews itself in speaking. Two sorts of speech, 
 There might rules be given about our ordinary dis- 
 course. Two things required in the voice and pronun- 
 ciation. How each of them may be gotten. Several 
 examples of good speakers. Rules about the manner , 
 subjects, and measures of our common talk. 
 
 ANOTHER" great instance in which this becoming- 
 ness shews itself, is our speech and discourse. But 
 whereas of this there are two sorts, the one proper 
 only for argument and contention, the other for com- 
 mon and ordinary talk; we should make use of that 
 when we plead at the bar, or speak in the senate and 
 public assemblies; of this when we meet and discourse 
 with our friends, when we walk in any of the public 
 places, or are sitting at table, and over a glass of wine. 
 There are teachers of rhetoric who give rules about the 
 former; but there are no rules given about the latter; 
 not but that I think there might some be invented; 
 but the business is, there is nobody to be found that 
 would study them if they were; otherwise masters 
 would never be wanting, if there w r ere but learners 
 that would study and employ them. Hence we are 
 almost over-run with rhetoricians, though no small 
 part of the rules which they give, viz. those that con- 
 cern either the words or the sense, may be very well 
 applied to our ordinary discourse. The voice x is that, 
 whereby we can talk, and convey our inward thoughts 
 from one to another; in which there are two things 
 chiefly required; first, that it be clear; and, secondly, 
 
 u He proceeds now to the second of those three things, in 
 which decorum shews itself, viz. our speech, which he divides 
 into two sorts, &c. 
 
 * The first thing to be considered in speech is the voice, as 
 to the natural tone or accent of it ; which he desires should be 
 •lear and harmonious; and shews the great usefulness of its 
 £>cing so by examples. 
 
 L 
 
110 TULLY'S 
 
 BOOK I, 
 
 harmonious. Each of these must be the gift of nature, 
 and is not attainable any other way; but where 
 they are naturally, practice and exercise will in- 
 crease the one, and imitation of those who speak 
 sweetly and agreeably, better the other. This was the 
 principal thing in the two Gatuli y , which made them 
 be counted men of judgment and learning; though 
 they had some skill in the matter it is true, and so had 
 some others as well as they; but this one thing recom- 
 mended them so much, that they were esteemed the 
 most perfect masters of the Roman language. The 
 sound of their voices was pleasing and harmonious; 
 they neither slurred over things negligently in their 
 pronunciation, nor yet were too exact in expressing 
 every letter; the former of which would have made 
 their speech obscure, and the latter affected. They 
 never spoke so as to strain their voices, but equally 
 avoided the double extreme, that of faintness and sick- 
 liness, as it were, on the one hand, and of too much 
 loudness and elevation on the other. Crassus's dis- 
 course was full as witty, and not near so barren, as 
 that of the Catuli ; yet these had as great a reputation 
 as he, upon the score of good speaking. Caesar, who 
 was brother to the elder Catulus, was far more face- 
 tious and witty than any of them; so that in court, 
 when before the judges, he would do more by his easy 
 familiar way of talking, than others could do by all the 
 powers of their eloquence. Each of these things should 
 be diligently taken care of, if we desire to act decently 
 on all occasions. Our common discourse* then I 
 would have to be such as that wherein the followers of 
 Socrates excel; easy and good-natured, without any 
 
 y See note on c. xxii. 
 
 ■ •■'Having done with what concerns the manner of pronuncia- 
 tion, and regulation of the voice : and advised gainst affecta- 
 tion, loudness, &c. in speaking; he now proceeds to give some 
 Tules about our discourse, as that it should be easy, not tedi- 
 ous, &c which relate, some of them to the manner, others to 
 the matter, and others to the measure that should be observed 
 in talking j and all deserve to be carefully considered. 
 
eMAr. xxxvn. OFFICES. ill 
 
 stubbornness or stiffness in opinion : let it be seasoned 
 with mirth and pleasantness, and not be too tedious, 
 pert, and assuming, as though it had a right to the 
 attention of the hearers, and nobody else had any 
 thing to do with it; but think it reasonable, as in all 
 other cases, so in this of discourse, to let every man 
 fairly take his own turn. But especially in the first 
 place it ought to be considered, what is the nature of 
 the subject we are discoursing upon ; if it be serious 
 we should handle it with seriousness ; but if it be merry, 
 with gaiety and briskness. But the most important 
 thing to be taken care of is, that our talk do not dis- 
 cover any viciousness in our manners; which is apt 
 to appear by nothing so much as by falling too foul 
 upon those that are absent, either by turning them into 
 ridicule, or misrepresenting them by malicious re- 
 proachful language. Now the subject of discourse in 
 common conversation is usually one of these three 
 things; either our own private domestic concerns; or 
 those that relate to the commonwealth in general ; or, 
 lastly, some matter of study and learning: therefore 
 when our talk begins to ramble from these, we should 
 always be careful to fetch it back to them again. But 
 whatever subjects present themselves, (for we are not 
 all pleased with the same things, nor with any thing 
 equally at all times, but whatever subject, 1 say, we 
 are upon,) we should consider how far our discourse may 
 be entertaining ; and as we could find a time when to 
 begin, so we should learn when to make an end. 
 
 *1 
 
H« TULLY'S book i. 
 
 chap, xxxyin. 
 
 Discourse should be free from passion and heaviness; and 
 shew a respect for those we converse with. Chiding and 
 correction sometimes necessary : rules to be observed in 
 it. In quarrels with adversaries we should avoid flying 
 out into passion. To talk great ories self very un- 
 becoming. 
 
 XT is a general rule for the conduct of our lives, that 
 we make it our business to be free from passion; that 
 is, from all violent motions of the soul, which reject 
 and cast oiF their allegiance to reason. This should 
 be applied to the matter now before us; and all our 
 discourse should be calm and dispassionate, without 
 any transports of anger or desire; as also, on the 
 other hand, without deadness and heaviness, or any 
 such vice : and in every company we should carefully 
 endeavour to shew a sort of kindness and respect for 
 those persons with whom we converse. It sometimes 
 comes to pass that chiding* is necessary 5 in which 
 we may be allowed a little to raise our voices, and to 
 use more sharpness and authority in our expressions : 
 however, we must be careful that we do not discover 
 any passion ; but let it rather be seen that we come to 
 such corrections as physicians do to cutting and scari- 
 fying wounds, but seldom, and with a great deal of 
 regret and unwillingness. And indeed we should never 
 come to them at all, unless it be necessary, and when 
 bo other methods will do any good : and even then, 
 when we are forced to it, we must be sure, as was said, 
 to avoid all anger; for whatsoever is guided by its 
 influence and directions, can never be done with any 
 prudence or moderation. Our rebukes should be 
 
 • He has done with those rules which concern the govern- 
 ment of our discourse in general ; he now proceeds to some 
 particular species of it. The first of these is chiding or cor- 
 rection, about which he gives us several good directions ; as s 
 that it should not be done passionately, &c. 
 
chaf. xxxix. OFFICES. 115 
 
 generally mild and gentle: but nevertheless such, as 
 may carry some weight and authority along with them; 
 observing a mean betwixt too great easiness, and break- 
 ing out into angry and contumelious language. And 
 whatsoever sharpness we may express in our reproofs, 
 we should let the person so corrected know that we do 
 it altogether for his good, and not for any by-ends or 
 self-designs. In the quarrels* we have even with our 
 greatest adversaries, whatever dirty language may be 
 thrown upon us, it is the best way to keep our minds 
 calm and sedate, and never let anger break in upon 
 them; for whatever is spoken or done in a passion, 
 can neither be consistent with the rules of gravity, nor 
 be approved of by those who are present in the com- 
 pany. Lastly, it is a very unbecoming thing for a 
 man to talk great of himself in discourse, and espe- 
 cially when that which he says is false \ which is but to 
 imitate Braggadochio in the comedy, and make him* 
 self the laughing-stock and jest of the hearers. 
 
 CHAP. XXXIX. 
 
 What sort of house is fitting for a person of honour. What 
 should be the end of building. The examples ofOctavius 
 and Scaurus. A great house brings a reproach on its 
 master, if his worth be not answerable to it, and if he do 
 not keep up the laws of hospitality. Measures to be 
 observed in building. Three rules to be observed for the, 
 keeping a decorum in our actions. 
 
 AND since we take in, or desire at least to take in, 
 all the several branches of duty, we must not forget to 
 add a ord or two about what sort of house is becom- 
 ing a gentleman or a person of honour d . Now the 
 
 h Another particular sort of discourse is that which falls 
 out in quarrels betwixt opposers ; in which it is our duty to be 
 calm and sedate, &c. 
 
 * A third particular kind of discourse is talking great of 
 one's self, which is always very ridiculous and unbecoming. 
 
 * Another thing, wherein decency shews herself pretty much, 
 if building, which he therefore brings in here, as it were, by 
 
 l3 
 
114 TULLY'S book i. 
 
 main end of building is lodging, and other necessary 
 uses of an house; and therefore the draught or con- 
 trivance of it should be suited accordingly. But we 
 should not so much regard bare necessities, as not to 
 have an eye to convenience and magnificence. Cneius 
 Octavius* the first of that family that was ever consul, 
 built himself a noble and magnificent house upon the 
 Palatine hill, which is said to have gained him a great 
 deal of reputation ; insomuch that the people coming 
 usually to see it, the very house was supposed to have 
 gone a great way toward advancing its owner, though 
 a kind of an upstart f , to the dignity of consul. This 
 some time after was pulled down by Scaurus g , that so 
 he might make his own somewhat the bigger by it : 
 but whereas Octavius h , by building his house, had made 
 himself consul 5 this man, on the contrary, by enlarge 
 ing of his, though the son of a great and most emi- 
 nent citizen, not only caused himself to be put by that 
 office, but was moreover brought into shame and disho- 
 nour 1 , and at last utterly ruined. It is well if a man can 
 enhance that credit and reputation he has got by the 
 splendor of his house ; but he must not depend upon 
 liis house alone for it ; for the master ought to bring 
 honour to his fine seat, and not the fine seat bring ho- 
 nour to its master. But, as in all other cases, a man 
 should not have respect of himself alone, but to other 
 
 the bye ; in which he would have a mediocrity observed. It is 
 very becoming for a person of quality, to have such a house 
 as is suitable to his quality ; neither too little, so as not to have 
 room for the reception of strangers ; nor yet too extravagantly 
 great and magnificent. 
 
 • A famous and great man, as our author in anether place 
 calls him, praetor and admiral of the Roman navy, in the Ma- 
 cedonian war with Perseus, when he triumphed for a sea vic- 
 tory. Afterwards he was Cos. about the year of Rome, 588. 
 
 f Not but that the family was very ancient in Rome, even 
 from the time of Numa Pompilius ; but nene of them had ever 
 been any way noted, till this Octavius. 
 
 g See note on c. xvi. book ii. 
 
 h Whom we spoke of c. xxii. 
 
 « He was convicted of undue ways of squeezing money out of 
 the allies, and at last forced to go away into banish meat. 
 
chap, xxxiv. OFFICES. 115 
 
 people also ; so it is in this of a nobleman's house, 
 which ought to be made very large and capacious, 
 because he must keep up the laws of hospitality, and 
 entertain multitudes of all sorts of persons in it. For 
 a fine and large house that gives entertainment to 
 nobody, serves but to reproach and upbraid its owner; 
 and especially if it were used to be frequently visited 
 under its former master; for it is an odious thing to 
 have passengers cry, as they go along, 
 
 Ah ! good old house, alas thy present lord 
 Is widely different from thy former one ! 
 
 which may justly be said of but too, too many in our 
 own days k . Care should be taken, especially when a 
 man builds himself, that he be not too extravagant in 
 his magnificence and expenees; which is a very ill 
 thing, though it had no other harm in it but only that 
 one of giving a bad example : for most men are apt, 
 more than in any thing else, to imitate the great ones 
 as to this particular. Where, for example, shall we 
 find the man that rivals the famous Lucullus 1 in his 
 virtues ? Whereas how many have done it in the state- 
 liness and magnificence of his country houses ? But 
 there certainly ought to be some bounds fixed and 
 prescribed to these things, and those to be according 
 to the rules of moderation ; but the measure whereby 
 we are to judge of their being moderate, is their sub- 
 serviency to the ornaments and conveniences of life : 
 and so much may suffice upon this head. As for our 
 actions m , the way to maintain this decorum in them is 
 
 k He reflects upon some of Caesar's party, who possessed 
 th« houses of Ponipey's friends ; and particularly Mark Antho- 
 ny, who was got into that which had formerly been Pompey's 
 own. 
 
 1 Lucius Lucullus, a noble and very wealthy Roman, famous 
 for his learning, eloquence, and especially valour ; as well as 
 extravagance in building, &c. See his Life in Plutarch, and 
 our author De Legib. lib. iii. c. 13. 
 
 ra Having spoken of our carriage of body and discourse, he 
 now proceeds to the third thing, in which decorum shews itself, 
 viz. our actions ; concerning which he gives three rules. 
 
116 TULLTS Boexx. 
 
 constantly to observe these three following prescripts : 
 first, ff That we keep all our passions and appetites 
 under the government and direction of reason," than 
 which there is nothing of greater efficacy toward the 
 constant preservation of our duty. Secondly, (l That 
 we consider the quality and moment of the thing of 
 which we go about 5" that so we may proportion our 
 endeavours accordingly, and take neither more nor less 
 pains about it than it really deserves. And lastly, 
 *' That in all these exterior circumstances, which are 
 only designed for a genteel shew and grace of the ac- 
 tion, we should keep within the measures of prudence 
 and moderation." Now the best measure we can ob- 
 serve is this, " To keep our eyes fixed on those rules 
 of decorum I have before laid down, and never to 
 transgress them. But of these three rules the first is 
 the most important, " That the sensitive part be kept 
 obedient to the reasonable." 
 
 CHAP. XL. 
 
 Order to be observed in our words and actions. Wherein 
 it consists. The duties arising from it. An excellent 
 saying of Pericles to that purpose. Of how great 
 moment the due timing a thing is. We should be par- 
 ticularly careful to avoid little indecencies. Harmony 
 and agreement more necessary in our lives, than our music* 
 
 XT remains in the next place that we should speak of 
 that order which is to be observed in our words and 
 actions, and of the proper seasons and opportunities 
 of them*. And here will fall under our consideration, 
 that which by the Greeks is called ivru,%{» 5 by which 
 I do not mean that sj;t#|/#°, which by us is most 
 
 ■ He comes now to the third of those things, in which he 
 told us [c. xxxv.] decorum consists, viz. order, or the due 
 timing our words and actions. 
 
 • The word wre&f* signifies two things, either the keeping 
 
w:hap. xl. OFFICES. 117 
 
 commonly rendered moderation, and signifies the 
 keeping within due bounds ) but that which contains 
 in the notion of it, the preservation of order. We 
 shall crave leave, however, to call even this latter by 
 the name of moderation, which is thus defined by the 
 Stoic philosophers, — moderation is the knowledge of 
 putting whatever we say or do, in its proper place. — 
 From whence it appears, that order and the well plac- 
 ing of things are but different words to express the 
 same notion ; for order is defined by the same sect of 
 men to be the ranging of things in their fitting and 
 proper places. Now the place of an action they tell 
 us is, the season of time for doing it ; and by the sea- 
 son of time they mean nothing else, than that which 
 the Greeks call ivkxi^U, and which we express by the 
 word occasio : so that, in short, by moderation here, 
 (in the sense of the word which I have just now given,) 
 we mean no more than the knowledge of well-timing 
 whatever we do. Prudence may be defined the same 
 way too, about which we have spoken at the entrance 
 of this work : but now we are discoursing of temper- 
 ance, moderation, and such like virtues. What the 
 duties of prudence are, is sufficiently explained in its 
 proper place ) what those of modesty, and such other 
 virtues as serve to recommend us to those we converse 
 with, and make up the subject of our present enquiry, 
 remains now to be considered. In the first place then, 
 we ought to observe such a due regularity and order in 
 our actions, as that the several parts of our whole lives, 
 like those of a regular and coherent discourse, may 
 agree and be suitable one with another. For what is 
 more unseemly, and contrary to good manners, than 
 when we are engaged about serious business, to bring 
 in some pleasant and merry discourse, that is proper 
 for a feast, or over a glass of wine ? It was a very 
 
 within due bounds, and so it is opposed to extravagance, or living 
 above one's rank, abilities, &c. or a due timing our words, &c. 
 and so it is opposed to impertinence, unseasonableness, or the 
 like. It is taken by our author here in this Jast sense. 
 
118 TULLY'S book i. 
 
 good answer to the present purpose, which Pericles 
 once gave to Sophocles p the tragedian : they were both 
 of them praetors of Athens together, and meeting one 
 day about some business of their office, it happened a 
 beautiful boy passed by; whom Sophocles espying, 
 " Heavens !" said he, <( Pericles, what a delicate youth 
 is there!" To which he replied, " A magistrate, So- 
 phocles, should keep a strict guard, not over his hands 
 only, but his eyes too\" Now had Sophocles hap- 
 pened to have said the same words at a time when 
 they were choosing of wrestlers or racers, such a rebuke 
 had been wholly undeserved : so much may the merit 
 or demerit of an, action depend upon the circumstances 
 of time and place. Suppose, for example, a man 
 had some considerable cause upon his hands, or busi- 
 ness that required attentive thinking, could any one 
 blame him for being very thoughtful as he walked or 
 rid ? But should he shew himself so at a feast among 
 company, it would be counted a great piece of rude- 
 ness and ill breeding, and this for not observing the 
 difference of seasons. Now as for those things, which 
 notoriously offend against the rules of good manners, 
 such as for a man to sing openly in the streets, or any 
 other gross and apparent absurdity, these are so easy 
 to be observed by all, that we need give no rules or 
 directions about them : but we ought more especially to 
 employ our care, in avoiding those little unheeded 
 indecencies, which are hardly understood by the gene- 
 rality of mankind. And as the least fault or disagree- 
 ment in the notes is immediately perceived by a skil- 
 ful musician; so we should take all imaginable care 
 
 p A famous tragedian of Athens, whose works are still extant, 
 and counted the most perfect in their kind. His being a poet 
 did not hinder him from being a good soldier and a wise states- 
 man. He lived about the beginning of the Peloponnesian 
 war. 
 
 <J The word abstinentes refers to both manns and oculi : in the 
 former case it signifies uncorrupted, or free from bribery and 
 receiving gifts ; in the latter chaste, or free from all wantoa and 
 lascivious looks. A magistrate ought to have both. 
 
chap. xi.r. OFFICES. 119 
 
 that there be no disagreement in our lives and actions; 
 and that so much the more, as the harmony in our 
 lives is of much greater consequence than that in our 
 music. 
 
 CHAP. XLL 
 
 Decency to be kept even in the least things, as the moving 
 of the eyes, fyc. We should observe what is unhandsome 
 in others, and correct it in ourselves. We should ask 
 the advice of experienced persons. Cautions in taking 
 this advice. We should follow custom and civil consti- 
 tutions. Some things allowable in some great men, 
 which are not so in others. Nothing immodest is be* 
 coming. Some particular duties to be observed by all 
 good men. 
 
 As therefore the delicate ear of the artist can quickly 
 discover the least fault in his music 5 so, would we take 
 as much care in detecting and censuring our vices we 
 might from the least and most trivial matters, make 
 several observations that would be much to our advan- 
 tage. From the moving of our eyes, for example; 
 from our way of smoothing or wrinkling our brows; 
 from the merry or sorrowful air of our countenances ; 
 from our laughter, freedom, or reservedness in dis- 
 course; from the raising or falling the tone of our 
 voices, and a great many other such little kind of cir- 
 cumstances, we might easily judge what is handsome 
 and becoming us, and' what is repugnant to the rules 
 of ou. duty, and to that which our nature or character 
 requires. Now in this particular Jt is a very good way 
 to observe fir^t in others how eac'h of these suits, that 
 so we may avoid and correct in ourselves whatever we 
 sec *)ad and misbecoming in them. For, I know not 
 huw, we can soone sp; faults out in other people than 
 we can in 1 pon which account there is 
 
 no be'.ter way to correct any learner, than for the 
 
no TULLY'S book t. 
 
 master to mimic his faults before him ; that so he, per- 
 ceiving their deformity in another, may the sooner be 
 brought to amend them in himself. Another good way 
 is, whenever we are in doubt and suspense about a 
 duty, to go to some learned or experienced person, and 
 ask his advice upon the matter in question, before we 
 resolve and determine with ourselves : because, generally 
 speaking, when left to themselves, men are apt to be 
 guided too much by their own inclinations and natures. 
 And in asking this advice we should diligently observe, 
 not only what every one tells us in words*, but what 
 his real inward opinion is, and what reasons and 
 grounds he may have for such opinions. For as your 
 statuaries, painters, and poets, use to set their works 
 out to be publicly viewed, that so they may be able to 
 correct such faults as are generally found by spectators 
 in them; and as they consider with themselves and 
 their friends, what oversights or mistakes they have 
 been guilty of in them; so should we make use of 
 other people's judgments as well as our own, and do 
 or not do, correct or alter a great many things upon 
 their advice. As for those things that are settled by cus- 
 tom and civil constitutions, I shall give no directions 
 at all concerning them ; for they are sufficient direc- 
 tions of themselves : I shall only observe that it is a 
 great mistake in any one to imagine, because such men 
 as Aristippus 8 and Socrates have ventured to say, or do 
 a great many things, which are contrary to rule and 
 received custom, that therefore he may be allowed to 
 do the same; for these were persons of extraordinary 
 merits, and almost more than human perfections 5 and 
 on that account might demand some privileges, which 
 are not to be granted to the rest of the world. But as 
 
 * For ill-will, private interest, and a thousand the like things, 
 may make people give us advice, which they do not think 
 best; or blind them and make them think that best, which 
 really is not so. 
 
 • Several eminent philosophers have been of that name. 
 One scholar of Socrates, and founder of the Cyreniac sect; 
 another his grandson. It is uncertain which he means here. 
 
cm\p. xlii. OFFICES l*t 
 
 for the practice and man nor of the Cynics, it is wholly 
 to be discarded ; for it is a plain offence against the 
 rules of modesty, without which nothing can be vir- 
 tuous and becoming. It is our duty to pay a respect 
 and deference, as to all those that are virtuous and cou- 
 rageous, who design for the good and advantage of the 
 Republic, and serve or have served her in any of her in- 
 terests ; so to those also who bear any office or com- 
 mand in the state. We should pay in like manner a 
 peculiar regard and reverence to old age ; never resist 
 any public magistrate j make a distinction betweea 
 citizens and strangers 3 and of strangers themselves, 
 between those in a private and public capacity. In fine, 
 not to mention any more particulars, we ought in all 
 cases both to keep ourselves, and endeavour to uphold 
 and maintain among others, that common correspond- 
 ence and universal society that is among all mankind. 
 
 CHAP. XLII. 
 
 Of the several sorts of trade which are creditable, and 
 which not. All those that administer to vice and de- 
 bauchery scandalous. Lying in tradesmen abominable. 
 How far merchandise is creditable. Husbandry par- 
 ticularly commended. 
 
 As for trades 1 , and the ways of getting money, which 
 of them are creditable and which otherwise, I have 
 only these very few things to observe : first, all those 
 are unworthy ways of gaining, which procure one a 
 general hatred and ill-will ; as that of the usurers and 
 tax-gatherers, for instance. Secondly, those arts are 
 mean and ungenteel, in which a man is paid for his 
 work, not his skill 3 for the very receiving a reward 
 
 1 The last thing he mentions, wherein decorum shews itself, 
 is trades and callings ; which he divides iota genteel and un- 
 genteel, and shews which are the one, and which the other. 
 
 Bl 
 
122 TULLY'S 
 
 BOOK I, 
 
 for one's labour, is like taking of earnest to bind him- 
 self a slave. Nor are they to be esteemed as better 
 than mean and ordinary people, that buy things up by 
 wholesale of the merchants, to retail them out again 
 by little and little j for what they gain is but a very 
 poor business, unless they are guilty of abominable 
 lying, than which there is nothing in the world more 
 scandalous. Again, all handicrafts-men have but a 
 mean sort of calling; and it is impossible that a work* 
 house should have any thing that is genteel in it. — 
 Further yet, all those trades are pitiful and low, that 
 purvey and cater for the satisfying men's pleasures ; 
 fishmongers, butchers, cooks", &c. as Terence reckons 
 them up; to which we may add, if you please, per- 
 fumers, dancing-masters, and those who supply us 
 with dice or cards. But arts that have something of 
 knowledge and skill in them, or those that are useful 
 and necessary for the public ; such as physic, for in- 
 stance, or architecture, or the instruction and education 
 of youth in good manners; these are very creditable and 
 commendable in those, whose rank and condition is 
 suited for such employments. As for merchandize, it 
 is sordid and mean, when the trade that is driven is 
 little and inconsiderable; but when it takes in a great 
 quantity of business, and bringing home goods from 
 every country, sells them out again without lying or 
 deceiving, we can hardly say but that it is creditable 
 enough : nay, it is most certainly very commendable, 
 when those who are concerned in it only design (after 
 they are sated, or rather contented with what they 
 have gained) to betake themselves wholly from the 
 haven to the country, as before they had done from the 
 sea to the haven, and there enjoy quietly rheir private 
 possessions. But among all the methods of enriching 
 one's self, there is no one better, no one more profit- 
 
 * These trades do not so much cater for pleasures, as serve 
 the necessities of life; but I suppose he brings them in here, 
 because of the great abuse of them among- the Romans, where 
 indeed their chief business was to serve men's luxury, Ceta- 
 rius is a seller of salt-fish, as Piscator is of fresh. 
 
chap, xlui. OFFICES. 123 
 
 able, and pleasant, and agreeable, no one more worthy 
 of a man and a gentleman, than that of manuring and 
 tilling the ground ; concerning which I have spoken at 
 large in my Cato Major, from whence you may borrow 
 what is necessary to be said upon this subject. 
 
 chap; xlui. 
 
 The cojnparing of two parts of honesty one with another. 
 The duties of prudence or Jin ding out truth, and those 
 of justice or maintaining human society compared; and 
 the preference given to the latter. 
 
 AND thus have 1 finished what I had to say upon 
 the first ^question*, and, 1 think, sufficiently made it 
 appear, how the particular instances of duty are to be 
 drawn from the several heads of honesty. But it often 
 comes to pass, that those very things themselves, which 
 are honest, rival as it were, and come into competition 
 with one another, so as to make it be another question, 
 of two that are honest, which is the most so ? Which 
 is a point not mentioned at all by Panaetius. For the 
 whole of virtue receiving its rise from those four foun- 
 tains : first, prudence, or the knowledge of truth : 
 secondly, justice, or doing good to the community 
 and society of mankind: thirdly, fortitude, or great- 
 ness of soul : and lastly, temperance, or moderation ; 
 it cannot but happen, that several of these must be 
 compared together, before we can be able to satisfy 
 
 * He has now done with his four heads of honesty, prudence, 
 justice, fortitude, and temperance ; and shewn the nature, and 
 laid down some rules concerning each of them ; by comparing 
 any - f our actions with which we may discover whether they 
 are honest or dishonest, agreeable or not agreeable to the 
 rules of virtue ; which was the first general head of deliberation 
 he proposed to speak to. [See c. iii.] The second was, of 
 two which are both honest, which is to be preferred ? which 
 he now proceeds to. 
 
 m2 
 
1*4 TULLY'S bo6k t. 
 
 ourselves, which it is our duty to prefer before which. 
 First then, if the duties of justice, or preserving the 
 community, and those of prudence 1 , or the knowledge 
 of truth, should come into competition one with an- 
 other j the former, I think, should take place of the 
 latter, as being more consonant to the dictates of na- 
 ture, which may easily be proved by this following ar- 
 gument: suppose a wise man to be in such a place, as 
 afforded him all the conveniences of life, and all the 
 opportunities of leisure in abundance, so that he might 
 study and contemplate every thing that was any ways 
 worthy his knowledge or contemplation ; yet were he 
 wholly deprived of all company, and had nobody ever 
 come near him to he seen, he would quickly be tired, 
 and grow weary of his life. Again, the principal of 
 all the virtues is that sort of wisdom which the Greeks 
 call <ro(picc; (for as to that sort of it which fhey call 
 f g<W'£, and we prudentia, it is a thing of a perfectly 
 different nature, as being no more than the skill of dis- 
 cerning what it is that we ought, or ought not to do : 
 but that sort of wisdom, which I said was the prin- 
 cipal, is, the knowledge of things both divine and hu- 
 man 8 ; and so comprehends the society and relation of 
 men with the gods, and with one another. If then 
 this, as most certainly it is, be the greatest virtue ; it 
 follows, that the duties which flow from society must 
 as certainly be the greatest; for the deepest knowledge 
 and contemplation of nature, is but a very lame and 
 imperfect business, unless it proceed and tend forward 
 to action : now the occasions wherein it can shew itself 
 best, consist in maintaining the interest of men, and 
 of consequence belong to the society of mankind : from 
 
 * Of the duties of prudence and justice, which are both ap- 
 parently good and honest, the latter he proves should take 
 place of the former, i. e. study and contemplation, which are 
 actions of prudence, ought to be laid aside if occasion so require, 
 for the sake of doing good to mankind, which is a part of ius* 
 tice. 
 
 a See note on c. ii. bosk ii. 
 
cHAr. xliv. OFFICES. 125 
 
 whence it follows, that the maintaining of this, should 
 in reason take place before learning and knowledge. 
 Nor is this any more than what all good men shew 
 they judge to be true by their actions and practices*: 
 for who is there so wholly addicted to contemplation 
 and the study of nature, as that, if his country should 
 fall into danger, while he was in one of his noblest 
 researches, he would not immediately throw all aside, 
 and run to its relief with all possible speed; nay, 
 though he thought he might number the stars, or take 
 the just dimensions of the whole world? And the 
 same would he do in the case of any danger to a friend 
 or a parent. From all which things it undeniably 
 appears, that the duties of knowledge and searching 
 after truth, are obliged to give way to the duties of 
 justice, which consist in upholding society among 
 men ; than which there is nothing we should be more 
 concerned for. 
 
 CHAR XLIV. 
 
 Even those, whose business is the search after truth, are 
 serviceable to the society of mankind, and how. Speak* 
 ing well preferable to the highest speculations, and why. 
 Man by nature a sociable creature. Knowledge of little 
 use, unless it tend to action, and do some good to the 
 world. Necessity not the reason of men's joining in 
 societies. 
 
 j\AY those very men, who have spent their whole 
 lives in philosophy and learning, have yet always en- 
 deavoured, as much as they could, to be serviceable ta 
 the interest and good of mankind. For many brave 
 men, and very useful members of their several states, 
 have in great part been made such by their institutions. 
 Thus Epaminondas c , the famous Theban, was iadebtet! 
 
 * Having proved his assertion by reasons, he proceeds tn 
 shew, that it is what the wisest men in the world have always 
 thought. 
 
 * Whom he mentioned c. xxiv. One of the greatest me» ot 
 
 h3 
 
i c 26 TULLY'S 
 
 E00K. u s 
 
 for his education to Lysis a, the Pythagorean: Dion* 
 of Syracuse, for his to Plato; and the same may be 
 said of a great many others : even I myself, whatsoever 
 service I have done the Republic, if at least it may be 
 said that 1 have done it any service, must wholly 
 ascribe it to that learning and those instructions I received 
 from my masters. Neither is their teaching and in- 
 structing others determined to the time of their living 
 here j but they continue to do it even after they are 
 dead, by the learned discourses which they leave behind 
 them : for there is no one point they have left unhandled, 
 relating either to the laws, customs, or discipline of the 
 commonwealth j so that they seem to have sacrificed 
 their leisure and opportunities of study, to the benefit 
 of those who are engaged in business: and thus we 
 see how those men themselves, whose lives have been 
 spent in the pursuit of wisdom, have nevertheless 
 endeavoured by their learning and prudence, to be 
 some way profitable to the community of mankind. 
 And for this one reason, persuasive speaking, if joined 
 ■with prudence, is a greater accomplishment than the 
 acutest thinking, if destitute of eloquence : for thinking 
 is terminated in itself alone, but speaking reaches out 
 to the benefit of those with whom we are joined in the 
 same society. Now as bees do not therefore unite 
 themselves together, that so they may the better pre- 
 pare their combs; but therefore prepare their combs, 
 because they do by nature unite themselves together : 
 
 all antiquity, for his integrity, learning, and especially va- 
 lour. He beat the Lacedaemonians several times, and made 
 Thebes, as long as he lived, the chief city of Greece; which 
 before and after him was inconsiderable. Corn. Nep. has writ- 
 ten his life. 
 
 <* He lived about the year of Rome 366, born at Tarentum, 
 in Italy, from whence he fled to Thebes, and was entertained 
 by Epaminondas's father, where he died. There is still extant 
 an epistle of his to Hipparchus, the Pythagorean, and some take 
 him to be the author of the Golden Verses that go under the 
 name of Pythagoras. 
 
 • He lived in the time of, and was near of kin to, both the 
 Dionysius's of Syracuse, the last of which he expelled* See 
 Plut. and Corn. Nep. 
 
ch vt\ xliv. OFFICES. 127 
 
 so men, and much more, being creatures that naturally 
 love society, in consequence of that, seek how they 
 may find methods of living happily in it. From hence 
 it follows, that the knowledge of things, unless it is 
 accompanied with that sort of virtue, which consists in 
 defending and preserving of men, i. e. in the main- 
 tenance of human society, is but a barren and fruitless 
 accomplishment j and even greatness of soul, without 
 a regard to this society and conjunction, is very little 
 better than savageness and barbarity. Thus we may 
 see, that the getting of knowledge is a duty of much 
 less concern and moment than the preserving this 
 society and union amongst men. It is a very false 
 notion that hath been advanced by some people, that 
 necessity alone was the motive to this society, which 
 we have so often mentioned -, and that men would 
 never have associated together, but that they were not 
 able, in a solitary life, to furnish themselves with the 
 necessaries of nature ; and that every great and exalted 
 genius, would Providence supply him with food and 
 the other conveniences of life, would withdraw from 
 all business and intercourse with mankind, and give 
 himself wholly to study and contemplation. This is 
 not so; for he would avoid solitude, endeavour to find 
 a companion in his studies, and always be desirous of 
 teaching and learning, of hearing and speaking. From 
 all which things it is abundantly evident, that the 
 duties belonging to human society, should in reason 
 take place before those which relate to inactive know- 
 ledge. 
 
1S» TULLYS book i. 
 
 CHAP. XLV. 
 
 The duties of maintaining society not always preferable 
 to those of temperance, modesty, fyc. What duties of 
 justice ought to take place of others. 
 
 JLT ought perhaps to be enquired here, whether the 
 duties of this society f , which is thus agreeable to the 
 principles of nature, ought always to be preferred 
 before the duties of temperance, decency, and modera- 
 tion ? Indeed I think not; for some things are so 
 very highly scandalous and abominably wicked, that 
 a wise man would hardly be guilty of them, supposing 
 he could bring safety to his country by it. Posidoniuse 
 has heaped up a great many instances of things of this 
 nature; some of which are so exceeding filthy, and 
 intolerably obscene, that it is a shame even so much 
 as to repeat them after him. These then must never 
 be done for one's country -, nor will one's country ever 
 desire that they should ; for the best of it is, it is im- 
 possible such a conjuncture should happen, as can 
 make it be the interest of any republic, to have wise 
 men be guilty of such abominable actions. We may 
 lay down this then for a certain conclusion, that when 
 several duties come into competition, those should take 
 place before any others, which relate to the mainte- 
 nance of human society. For wise and considerate 
 acting is the end of all knowledge and prudent think- 
 ing; and by consequence, that is more valuable than 
 this h . And so much may suffice upon this subject f 
 
 f Having determined the former question in favour of jus- 
 tice, he now proposes a second, whether the duties of justice 
 ought always to be preferred before those of temperance ? He 
 thinks not, and gives his reasons. 
 
 s An eminent Stoic, scholar of Panaetius ; he was born at 
 Apamea, a town in Syria, but lived at Rhodes, where Panaetius 
 had been before him. [See c. ii. book iii.] He was one of 
 Cicero's masters, who somewhere calls him, Vel omnium Stoico- 
 rum maximum. Pompey the Great, in his return from the 
 Asian wars, went to Rhodes on purpose to hear him. His works 
 are lost. 
 
 b According to the maxim of the philosophers, The end is 
 always more valuable than that which is only done for the 
 sake of the end* 
 
chap. xlv. OFFICES. 1*29 
 
 for, 1 think I have sufficiently cleared the way, so that 
 hereafter there will be no difficulty to know which du- 
 ties are to be preferred before which. But those very 
 duties which relate to society, are of different rates 
 and degrees among themselves 5 but it is no hard 
 matter to see in what order they ought to be performed. 
 As, in the first place, those to the immortal gods. 
 Secondly, to our native country. Thirdly, to our 
 parents; and so on to all others in their respective 
 places. What has been said in a few words on this 
 last head, 1 hope is sufficient to make it appear, that 
 it is usual for men not only to doubt, whether such 
 and such an action be honest or dishonest ; but also, 
 of two, that are both of them honest, which is the 
 most so ? This is one of those two heads, which I at 
 first observed were omitted by Panaetius : let us now 
 pass on to the remaining part of our proposed division* 
 
TULLY'S OFFICES. 
 
 BOOK II. 
 
 CHAP. I 
 
 What will be the subject of this second Book. He applies 
 himself to the study of philosophy , us his greatest con- 
 solation in the midst of the public calamities of his 
 country. 
 
 WHAT those duties are, son Marcus, which honesty 
 and virtue require of us, and how they arise from their 
 several fountains, is, I think, plain enough from the 
 former Book. I am now in the next place to speak of 
 those others which wholly regard the convenience of 
 life, and are requisite for the getting and enjoyment of 
 those things which serve for our comfortable subsistence 
 here, such as interest, riches, &c. And here I told 
 you the common heads of deliberation were, What is 
 profitable and what unprofitable? and, Of several pro- 
 fitables, which is more, and which most of all such ? 
 Concerning which I shall begin to speak, after I have 
 premised but a word or two in vindication of myself 
 and my present undertaking 3 . For though my books 
 have excited several both to the reading, and even 
 writing of philosophy 3 yet I am now and then apt to 
 be afraid, lest some, who are otherwise very good men, 
 
 a Having; proposed the subject, about which he is to treat in 
 this Book, he defers discoursing of it, till he has answered tWQ 
 objections made against him, for this sort of writing 1 . 
 
p.i, OFFICES. 131 
 
 should bate and despise the very name of that study h , 
 and wonder at me for bestowing such portiofif of my 
 time and pains in so very fruitless and insignificant a 
 manner. To whom I answer , that so long as the lie- 
 publie was governed by those, to whose care and ma- 
 nagement she had entrusted herself, I was ever diligent, 
 and employed all my thoughts for her good and pre- 
 servation : but when one man d had seized of her wholly 
 to himself, and there was no place left for my counsel 
 or authority; and when I had lost those extraordinary 
 persons, who had been my companions in labouring for 
 her interest, 1 resolved not to sink into anguish and 
 despair, which hi^d wholly overwhelmed me if 1 had 
 not resisted them; nor to follow such pleasures or idle 
 ways of living, as were improper, and unbecoming 
 a man of learning. I could heartily wish, had it so 
 pleased the gods, that the Republic had continued in its 
 ancient condition, and never fallen into the hands of 
 those men e who are not so much for changing as 
 overturning every thing ! I would then, as 1 did in its 
 flourishing circumstances, spend my time rather in 
 business than writing; cind what 1 did write would 
 not be things of this moral nature, but my public ora- 
 tions, as 1 have often done. But when the poor 
 state, which had taken up all my care and thoughts, 
 
 b The first objection against him is, that he spent too much 
 time, and took too much pains, in such a fruitless study, as 
 that of philosophy. For the Romans being a rough and ambi- 
 tious people, minded nothing before those times, but the arts 
 of war, and increasing the glory of their empire. As for phi- 
 losophy, &c. it was co ed fit for none almost but Pedants, 
 and (as tt»e> used t* II them) the trifling, insignificant Gre- 
 cians. Tu regtre imperio papulos, &e. was their maxim. 
 
 < Hr 11 for spending his time in this idle man- 
 
 ner, by shewn. £ wfial ..imerlv done for the sake of the 
 
 commonwealth. \ desirous he is of doing the same 
 
 again, if the times would or. rait him. 
 
 4 Julius Czesar, who having conquered Pompey the Great, 
 got the whole power oi Rome into his hands. 
 
 « Not only Caesar, but Mark Anthony and his adherents; 
 wb< , tfter the murder of Ctesar, endeavoured to get the sole 
 power to himself. See his life in Plut. 
 
132 TULLY'S book iu 
 
 and for which I had laboured with all my power, was 
 utterly ruined and sunk into nothing, there was quickly 
 no room left for such orations, either at the bar or in 
 the senate-house: and my active mind, which had al- 
 ways been employed in that kind of studies, now not 
 being able to lie wholly idle, I thought I could find 
 out no better way to get rid of those troubles which 
 oppressed my mind, than by returning again to the 
 studies of philosophy. I had spent a good part of niy 
 time in these whilst 1 was young, for the improvement 
 of my reason ; but when I came once to be a candidate 
 for places, and devoted myself to the service of the 
 public, I had little time left for philosophical enquiries, 
 only so much as could be spared from the business of 
 my friends and the state ; which was wholly taken up 
 in nothing else but reading, without any leisure at all 
 for writing. 
 
 CHAP. II. 
 
 Some advantages to be drawn out of evils. The commenda- 
 tion and definitions of wisdom and philosophy. It is 
 the only way of obtaining virtue and happiness. The 
 opinion of the Academics, and why they dispute against 
 every thing. 
 
 HOWEVER then we have this advantage in the midst 
 of all our miseries and calamities, that by them we 
 are brought to the writing of those things which were 
 not sufficiently known amongst us, though nothing in 
 the world more deserves our knowledge 6 . For what is 
 there, O ye gods ! more desirable than wisdom ! what 
 more excellent and lovely in itself! what more useful 
 and becoming for a man ! or what more worthy of his 
 
 * The Romans received their philosophy from the Greeks, 
 and did not begin to cultivate it to any purpose, till Cicero's 
 time. 
 
CHA*. It. OFFICES. 133 
 
 reasonable nature ! Now those who are busied in the 
 pursuit of this, are called philosophers, and the word 
 philosophy signifies no more, if you would take it li- 
 terally, than a certain desire and love for wisdom : and 
 wisdom is defined by the old philosophers, the know- 
 ledge of things both divine and human h , together with 
 the causes upon which they depend ; the study of 
 which whosoever finds fault with, I confess I cannot 
 perceive what it is he would commend; for what study- 
 is there that brings so much quiet and satisfaction to 
 the mind, if these are the things which we propose to 
 ourselves, as theirs who are always a searching out 
 something which may contribute to the welfare and 
 happiness of their lives? Or if it be virtue and con- 
 stancy that we desire, either this is the method of ob- 
 taining them, or else there is not any to be found in 
 the world. To say there is no art of those weightier 
 concerns, when none of the most trivial matters is 
 without art, becomes only those who talk without 
 thinking, and deceive themselves in the most import- 
 ant business : but if there is an art of attaining vir- 
 tue, in what other way do we hope to find it, if this 
 be forsaken of which 1 am now speaking? But these 
 things used to be more fully handled, when we excite 
 and persuade men to cultivate philosophy; which I 
 have endeavoured to do in another work'. My design 
 at present was only to shew, why I particularly chose 
 this study; being thrust from all business and concern 
 in the government. There are others k , and those 
 
 * By divine things they meant God, and his nature ; toge- 
 ther with the world and bodies in it, which are the work of 
 God. By things human, the nature of man, both as to his body 
 and soul, together with the good or ill use he may make of 
 either, viz. virtue and vice: as also the relation he stands in 
 toward God, and other men, with the several duties resulting 
 from it. See Lips. Stoic. Pkilos. book ii. sect. 7. 
 
 1 His book entitled Hortensius ; because in it he brought in 
 HoTtensius condemning, whilst he himself commended philo- 
 sophy. It is now all lost, except some few fragments. 
 
 k He proceeds to the second exception made against him, 
 which is this: Cicero being, as before was observed, of the 
 
 N 
 
134 TULLY'S 
 
 BOOK II. 
 
 men of no small learning, who object against me, and 
 ask if I am not inconsistent with myself, who affirm, 
 that nothing at all can be known, and yet have dis- 
 coursed upon several subjects, and at this very time 
 am laying down rules and directions about duty? I 
 could wish those persons had understood our opinions 
 a little more thoroughly; for we are not of those 1 
 whose minds are perpetually wandering in uncertainties, 
 and have nothing whereby to determine their assents $ 
 (for what sort of mind must a man needs have, or ra- 
 ther what life must he needs lead, when he is utterly 
 debarred from all liberty of disputing™, and observing 
 any regular conduct in his actions ?) nor yet of those 
 others, who call some things certain and others uncer- 
 tain : but rejecting both these, we say some things 
 
 Academic sect, who deny there is any such thing as certainty, 
 how, say they, can you pretend to give rules of duty, when 
 it is a settled maxim of your sects, that nothing can be known ? 
 Is not this to contradict your own principles ? Or will you say 
 that you do not know the truth of your own rules ? 
 
 1 He answers, That he is not of those, who doubt of 
 every thing, viz. the Sceptics or Apof etics, followers of Pyrrbo, 
 who held, that all things were equally probable, and nothing 
 could have so much said for it, but that as much might be said 
 against it, and accordingly doubted of every thing in the world. 
 —-But Cicero is of a middle opinion between these and the 
 Dogmatics, who hold some things to be certain and others uncer- 
 tain, and maintains that some things are extremely probable, 
 though not absolutely certain, and others highly improbable ; 
 which is the opinion of the Academics, as distinguished from 
 pure Sceptics. Though therefore he will not say his rules are 
 certain, yet he thinks them so very probable, as that no wise 
 man can deny his assent to them. See De Natura Deor. lib. i. 
 cap. 5. 
 
 m Which was the case of the Sceptics ; for what disputing 
 can there be with them, who will not allow one thing more pro- 
 bable than another ; when all dispute must suppose that some 
 things are probable and true, and from them make out the 
 matter in question ? Or what regular conduct can he observe 
 in his life, who doubts whether he sees, hears, or feels any 
 thing or not ? Therefore Quintil. with very good reason, ex- 
 cludes Pyrrho from meddling with eloquence, Cuijudices esse, 
 says he, apud quos verba faciat, 8fc. non liquebit. For he must 
 doubt, if he act according to his principles, whether there be 
 any judge for him to speak to, any criminal to defend, &c. 
 
chap. in. OFFICES. 135 
 
 are probable, and others improbable. Is there any 
 thing then that should hinder me from approving of 
 that which 1 think most probable, and laying aside that 
 which 1 think the contrary? . Or where is the incon- 
 sistency, if, leaving that arrogant pretence of demon- 
 strating, I am neither too rash nor presumptuous in 
 my opinions, which of all things in the world are the 
 farthest from wisdom ? Now this is the reason why we 
 Academics dispute against every thing, because what 
 is probable could not appear without comparing the 
 arguments upon either side of the question. But 
 these things are cleared, 1 think, accurately enough in 
 my books entitled Academical Questions. But you, 
 my son, are already engaged in the study of a most 
 noble and ancient philosophy"; and have gotten Cra- 
 tippus for your master and instructor, who is hardly 
 inferior to its most glorious founders : however, I would 
 have you acquainted with our doctrines , which are 
 very little different from those of your own sect. But 
 it is high time now to return to our purpose p . 
 
 CHAP. III. 
 
 The knowledge of honesty is of greatest moment. Profit 
 and honesty really the same, and distinguished only by 
 an act of the mind. The customary opinion to the con* 
 trary, very pernicious. The division of things that are 
 profitable and hurtful to men. The good we receive 
 from inanimate beings, owing to mans industry. 
 
 X HERE being then, as was before observed q, five 
 general heads of deliberating and consulting for the 
 finding out our duty : two of which relate to what is 
 
 * The Peripatetic, of which sect Cratippus, his son's master, 
 was. 
 
 « The Academic. 
 p See book i. c. 1. 
 n In book i. at the end of c. 3. 
 n2 
 
136 TULLY S book ii. 
 
 honest and becoming; two to the use and conveniences 
 of life, such as plenty, power, riches, &c\ and the fifth 
 to the teaching us how we ought to choose, if any of 
 the former should seem to contradict and run counter 
 to one another: we have gone through with that 
 wherein honesty is the question, with which I desire 
 you would be more especially acquainted. The point 
 which now comes under consideration, is what usually 
 goes by the name of profitable; concerning which*, 
 custom is mightily in the wrong, and by little and little 
 has brought it to such a pass, as to make a distinction 
 between profit and honesty $ and settle it as a constant 
 and received maxim, that a thing may be honest with- 
 out being profitable, and again may be profitable with- 
 out being honest 5 the most pernicious error, and most 
 destructive of all goodness, that ever could have erept 
 into the minds of men. The greatest however, and 
 most eminent philosophers, have been always so strict 
 and severe in their writings, as to make the three 
 natures of justice, profit, and honesty be blended and 
 interwoven together in reality ; and distinguishable 
 only by an act of the mind: for whatever is just, say 
 they, the same is also profitable 5 and whatever is 
 honest, the same is also just - 7 from whence it follows, 
 that whatever is honest, the same must be also profitable. 
 Did people but consider this matter as they ought, 
 they would not, as now they commonly do, admire a 
 crafty and subtle sort of fellows, and esteem that wis- 
 dom which in truth is roguery. This error therefore 
 should be wholly rooted out of the minds of men, and 
 all should be taught, that if they ever hope to obtain 
 their ends, they should not set about it by the ways of 
 knavery and underhand dealings, but by justice and 
 integrity in their designs and actions. Now all things 
 
 ■ Being to discourse about profit, the first thing he takes 
 care of is, to settle the true notion of profit, and root out of 
 men's minds a pernicious error which they have gcrt concerning 
 it. He asserts therefore, and proves by the authority of the 
 greatest philosophers, that nothing can be profitable wbich i& 
 not honest. See book i. c. 3. note g. 
 
chap. in. OFFICES. 137 
 
 that tend to the good and preservation of the life of 
 man", are either inanimate, such as gold, silver, the 
 productions of the earth, and other such like; or animals, 
 which have natural powers, inclinations, and appetites. 
 Of these some are unreasonable and others reasonable : 
 the unreasonable are horses, oxen, and other sorts of 
 cattle; to which we may add bees, which produce and 
 make something that contributes to the convenience of 
 the life of men -, the reasonable are gods and men. — 
 The means for procuring the favour of the gods, is to 
 live a religious and holy life ; next to the gods, there 
 is nothing so capable of contributing to the happiness 
 and welfare of men, as men themselves. The same 
 distribution may serve for those things which tend to 
 the hurt and inconvenience of men. But because it is 
 believed, that to hurt is incompatible with the divine 
 nature', the gods for that reason are excepted here j 
 so that men are supposed of all things in nature, to do 
 both the most service and disservice to one another *. 
 For, first, those things which are called inanimate x , are 
 
 ■ Having shewn, that nothing can be profitable which is not 
 honest ; he now enumerates the several sorts of things, which 
 may be profitable for us ; so that, when we know what is best, 
 and what is worst for us, we may endeavour to obtain the one, 
 and avoid the other. 
 
 1 Because the gods being by nature good and kind, if they 
 should harm men, they would act contrary to their own natures. 
 See Lips. Physiolag. Stoic, book i. c. 10. 
 
 * The words, Et prodesse, not being found in several manu- 
 scripts, have been excluded the late editions ; but, 1 think, 
 without sufficient reason : for this is not a conclusion from the 
 last words only, but the whole sense foregoing : viz. " That 
 men do most good, except only the gods ; and most harm of 
 all, the gods not doing any ; from whence it follows that men 
 do the most good, and most harm, taken both together, of any 
 thing, to one another. Beside the words following begin ta 
 reckon up the several goods, which men do to one another ; 
 which being brought in with an enimfjbr, ought to be a proof 
 of what immediately foregoes, viz. that men do the greatest 
 service as well as disservice, &c. 
 
 x Being to shew, that men do the most good to one another* 
 he begins with inanimate things, and shews that the service we 
 receive from them is owing to men. 
 
 »3 
 
*38 TULLY'S 
 
 BOOK it. 
 
 most of them owing to the industry of men; which 
 we neither could get if it were not for their labour and 
 art in procuring them, nor afterwards use without their 
 assistance. For where should we have such a science 
 as physic, as navigation, or agriculture? How should 
 we gather and preserve our corn, and the rest of our 
 fruits, if it were not for men? and then how should 
 those commodities which we want be imported, or 
 those with which we abound be exported, if there were 
 not men to do each of these works? In like manner 
 how could stone be fetched out of the quarries for our 
 necessary uses ? How could iron, brass, gold, and silver 
 be dug and drawn out from the bowels of the earth, did 
 not men set their hands to work for these purposes. 
 
 CHAP. IV. 
 
 Other conveniences from inanimate beings and unreason- 
 able animals received by mens industry. The advan- 
 tages arising from men's joining in society. 
 
 (So houses, which serve to defend us from the extre- 
 mities of heat and cold, could neither at first have been 
 made by mankind, or afterwards, if by earthquake, 
 tempest, or length of days they had fallen to decay, 
 have been repaired or rebuilt, had not men joined to- 
 gether in one common society, learned to borrow help 
 and assistance of one another. To this industry of 
 men we are also indebted for conveyances of water, for 
 making new channels and arms to rivers, and for turn- 
 ing the streams after such a manner, as thereby ta 
 water and fatten our grounds ; for throwing up banks to 
 defend us from the waves, and making of new harbours 
 in convenient places. From all which instances, and 
 a great many others, that might easily be produced, 
 it is abundantly manifest, that the fruits and advan- 
 tages reaped from those things which are called inanU 
 
chap. iv. OFFICES. 139 
 
 mate, are entirely owing to men's labour and industry. 
 Secondly, those we receive from unreasonable animals y , 
 how very little and inconsiderable would they be, if 
 they were not augmented by the same people's industry ? 
 For who was it but men that first discovered the uses 
 to which beasts in their several kinds might be service- 
 able ? and how at this time could we feed or break 
 them ? How could we keep them, and get the most 
 profit and advantage by them, without the endeavours 
 and assistance of the same men ? It is they that destroy 
 us those creatures which are hurtful, and procure 
 for us those which may be serviceable to us. Why 
 need I mention a multitude of arts 2 , which are abso- 
 lutely necessary to our well-being here? For what 
 help or succour could those that are sick, or what plea- 
 sure those that are healthy, find ? How could mankind 
 be supplied with victuals, and other conveniences or 
 comforts of life, if it were not for that number of 
 callings in the world, which are wholly designed to 
 provide them of such things; by means of which men 
 have improved their way of living, and are raised to a 
 condition so far above that of unreasonable animals? 
 Again, cities could neither have been built nor fre- 
 quented, without a community and society of men: 
 from hence have arisen all laws and customs 5 the 
 bounds of equity and justice have been settled, and a 
 certain and regular method laid down for the conduct 
 of meii's lives. This has brought modesty into re- 
 quest, and filed off the natural roughness of men's 
 tempers ; has contributed to the greater security of 
 their lives, and established such a commerce and cor- 
 respondence among them, as by mutual giving and 
 receiving of benefits, by bartering and changing one 
 
 y Having shewn, that the advantage they reap from inani* 
 mate beings is owing to men ; he proceeds to shew the same of 
 unreasonable animals. 
 
 z Several other things, such as arts and useful inventions, 
 eivil society, &c. whereby men are serviceable and do good to 
 one another. 
 
140 TOLLY'S book 11. 
 
 commodity for another, one convenience for another, 
 supplies them to the full with whatever they stand in 
 need of. 
 
 CHAP. V. 
 
 Nothing extraordinary either in war or peace, can be done 
 without the help of men. Nothing the cause of so much 
 evil to men, as they themselves are to one another. What 
 is the office of virtue. The whole business of it consists 
 in three things. 
 
 VVE dwell much longer than we need to do upon 
 this subject: for who does not see/ which Pansetius 
 has spent many pages to make out, that neither a 
 general in war, nor a statesman in peace, could ever 
 perform any glorious exploits, or do any notable ser- 
 vice to the public, without the concurrence of other 
 men's endeavours ; to confirm this assertion, he brings 
 in Themistocles, Pericles, Agesilaus, and Alexander % 
 and tells us that no one of all these, without the assist- 
 ance of others to support them, could ever have 
 achieved such glorious actions. What he tells us is 
 undoubtedly true, and such a number of witnesses al- 
 together superfluous. And as men thus receive most 
 extraordinary benefits b , from agreeing and conspiring 
 to lend mutual assistance ; so, we shall find, upon 
 changing the scene, that there are no misfortunes or 
 calamities so great, as those which they bring upon 
 one another. Dicaearchus , a learned and eloquent 
 
 a Several of the greatest generals and statesmen among the 
 ancients. 
 
 h Having thus made it appear, that men do, plurimum pro- 
 desse, the greatest good to one another ; [see note t, on c. iii.] 
 he is now going to shew, that they do the greatest mischief 
 too. 
 
 c Born at Messene, a city in Sicily, scholar of Aristotle. 
 He was also an eminent orator, and geometrician. He left se^ 
 veral works behind him, which are all lost* 
 
tHAP. v. OFFICES. ill 
 
 Peripatetic, has written a whole book concerning" the 
 destruction of men ; where, first having reckoned up 
 all other causes of it, such as inundations, pestilences, 
 and famines, and even sudden incursions of furious 
 wild beasts, by which he assures us some whole na- 
 tions have been devoured 5 and then placing on the 
 other side, wars, seditions, and such like misfortunes, 
 which men were the occasion of; he endeavours to 
 shew, at the foot of the account, that a great many 
 more have been destroyed by these, than by all other 
 accidents or calamities whatsoever. This then being 
 indisputably true, that the goods men enjoy, and the 
 evil they suffer, proceed for the most part from men 
 themselves; I lay down this as one principal part of 
 virtue, to procure the good-liking and favour of men, 
 and so to engage their endeavours and affections, as to 
 make them still ready to do us any kindness. It is the 
 business therefore of laborious callings to supply us 
 with all the conveniences of life, which may be had 
 from the use of inanimate beings and unreasonable 
 animals ; but to gain the affections of men on our 
 side, and beget in them always a readiness and desire 
 to advance our interest, is a work that requires the 
 wisdom and virtue of the greatest men. For the whole 
 work and exercise of virtue in general consists in some 
 one of these three things d : the first is a knowledge, 
 in all we undertake, of what is agreeable to truth and 
 
 4 He proves what he just now said, that it requires wisdom, &c. 
 for, says he, the whole work and exercise of virtue'consists in 
 one of these three things : 1. The improvement of our reason 
 and understanding; which is the work of prudence, and the 
 intellectual virtues. 2. To govern and restrain the passions, 
 and keep the sensual appetite in subjection to reason ; which 
 temperance and the moral virtues do. 3. To gain the affections 
 of men, so as to make them promote our interest ; which any 
 of the former may help to do. Thus wisdom or knowledge, 
 for instance, perfect the understanding, and are proper to 
 beget in men confidence or reliance on us. See c. ix. So 
 justice and greatness of soul moderate the passions and incli- 
 nations ; and also make men love, respect, and honour us* 
 See e> ix. x, xi. &c. 
 
142 TULLY'S book ii. 
 
 sincerity; what is becoming and suitable to every one's 
 character ; what will be the consequence of such or such 
 actions; what are the materials out of which things are 
 made, and what the causes that first brought them 
 into being. The second, a restraining the violent mo- 
 tions and passions of the soul, which by the Grecians 
 are termed ar#0jj; and bringing the irregular inclinations 
 of the appetite, which by the same are called op pal, 
 under the power and government of reason. The third 
 is a skilfulness of address in our carriage, and a winning 
 demeanour toward the rest of men, with whom we are 
 joined in one common society; that so by their help 
 we may be supplied in abundance with all those things 
 which our natures stand in need of; and by the same 
 may be enabled, should any injury be offered us, to 
 keep ourselves secure from the violence of it; and not 
 only so, but to revenge ourselves also upon the guilty 
 person, and inflict such punishments as are according 
 to the rules of humanity and justice. 
 
 CHAP. VI. 
 
 How far the 'power of fortune over men reaches. The 
 several reasons why men favour any one, or submit to 
 his authority. 
 
 TV^HAT means should be used for gaining and se- 
 curing men firm to our interests, we should mention 
 immediately 6 , but we have one observation to make 
 before hand, there is no one but knows that the power 
 of fortune is very great, both as to the good and ill 
 success of our actions f : for when she favours us we 
 
 « Men doing us the most good and most evil, as is shewn, 
 it follows that those are the profitahlest actions which engage 
 men to be of our side, and to do all the good they can, and keep 
 from us all the evil : what these are he proceeds now to shew ; 
 only observing one thing by the way. 
 
 * It might have been objected, that the good or ill success 
 of our actions depends upon fortune and not men's assistance ; 
 
CHAT, yi. OFFICES. 143 
 
 quickly arrive at our desired haven j but when she 
 turns against us, we as quickly are shipwrecked and 
 run aground. Now of those events which depend 
 upon fortune, there are some that do but rarely come 
 to pass; sueh as storms, tempests, shipwrecks, ruins, 
 fires, &c. which proceed from inanimate beings; and 
 from brutish animals, kicks, bites, pushes, &c. all 
 which, as I said, do but rarely happen : but the over- 
 throws of armies, as of three but a while ago*, 
 and a great many others at several times ; the deaths 
 of commanders, as lately of a great and extraordinary 
 person h; the hatred and violence of the enraged mul- 
 titude, and, as a consequence of that, the banishments, 
 flights, and utter undoings of well-deserving citizens; 
 as also on the other hand prosperous successes, such 
 as honours, commands, victories, &^. though they are 
 all of them fortuitous things, yet they cannot succeed 
 either the one way or the other, withou f the assistance 
 and endeavours of men. This being noted, we are now 
 to discourse of those ways and methods, whereby men 
 are drawn and inclined to be for us, and to endeavour 
 all they can for our interest and advantage; upon 
 which, if we seem to dwell longer than we should do, 
 I desire the usefulness of the subject may be con- 
 sidered, and then we may possibly be thought too 
 short. Whatsoever then is contributed by men toward 
 any one's advancement in riches, honours, power, &c. 
 is always done upon some of these motives 1 : first, that 
 
 which therefore why should we endeavour to procure ? To ob- 
 viate this he observes, that the most and greatest of what we 
 call fortuitous accidents, could never have fallen out without 
 men's assistance, notwithstanding that usually they are said to 
 come from fortune ; such are victories, overthrows, &c. 
 
 t That of Pompey the Great, in the Pharsalian field ; his 
 eldest son's at Munda in Spain; and Juba and Scipio's in 
 Afric ; all defeated by Caesar. See his Commentaries. 
 
 h Viz. Pompey the Great, who after his defeat at Phrvsalia, 
 flying into Egypt, was there treacherously murdered ; Pnnceps 
 Romani nominis, imperio arbitrioque JEgyptii ?na?wi/jii,jugulatus 
 est. See Veil. Paterc. book ii. c. 58.| 
 
 * He lays down six things, or principles of action in men, 
 
144 TULLYS book it. 
 
 of kindness, benevolence, or good-will ; when for some 
 reasons they love any person. Secondly, honour or ad- 
 miration ; when they respect any one for his virtues, 
 and think he deserves to be highly promoted. Thirdly, 
 confidence, trust, or reliance ; when they think they 
 may safely confide in a man, as one that will certainly 
 take care of their affairs. Fourthly, fear, when they 
 stand in any awe of his power and authority. Fifthly, 
 hope, when they expect to get something from him ; 
 as when princes or popular men promise great dona- 
 tions. And, last of all, hire, when they are drawn 
 to it by money or presents 5 which is much the most 
 pitiful and sordid way, as for those on the one hand 
 that are taken by it, so likewise for those that en- 
 deavour to make use of it ; for it is never well when • 
 people shall attempt to get that by money, which ought 
 to be the reward of virtue and merit. However, see- 
 ing sometimes one must have recourse to this method 
 as a refuge, I shall give some rujps for our direction 
 in the use of it 5 but first speak of * hose that are more 
 nearly related to virtue and honesty. In much the 
 same manner, and for several such reasons, men sub* 
 mit to the power and authority of another k , either 
 because they have a kindness for him ; or have formerly 
 received some obligations from him; or respect him 
 for his worth ; or hope they shall get something 
 by it; or fear they shall be forced to it, if they do 
 not do it voluntarily 5 or are drawn by fair promises 
 and large donations ; or, lastly, as we see it too often 
 practised in our own Republic, are downright hired 
 to it. 
 
 which make one man endeavour to be profitable to another, 
 as love, honour, &c. and shews which of them are convenient, 
 and which not; and by what virtues we may gain each of 
 them. 
 
 k He brings in this, because he designs to discourse not 
 only about private persons, how they should get others to be 
 serviceable to them ; but of governors also of a state or com- 
 monwealth, how they should do to make their subjects and 
 allies to be firm to their interests. 
 
Cflj*. vn. OFFICES, 14* 
 
 CHAP. VII 
 
 A governor should endeavour to make himself loved, 
 and not feared. The fates of several who have taken 
 the contrary method. 
 
 I\ OWof all those methods, which tend to the advance- 
 ment and maintenance of our interest, there is none 
 more proper and convenient than love, and none 
 more improper and inconvenient than fear 1 . For, as 
 it is very well observed by Ennius, whom men fear, 
 they also hate; and whom they hate they wish out of 
 the world. But that no force of power or greatness 
 whatsoever can bear up long against a stream of public 
 hate, if it were not sufficiently known before, was of 
 ]ate made appear by an instance of our own. And 
 not the violent death of that tyrant" only, who by 
 force of arms oppressed the city, which now most 
 obeys him when taken out of the world", but the like 
 untimely ends of most other tyrants, who have generally 
 been attended by the same ill fate, is a manifest token 
 that the hatred of the people is able to ruin the most 
 absolute authority : for obedience proceeding from fear, 
 cannot possibly be lasting ; whereas that which is the 
 effect of love, will be faithful for ever. — It is well 
 enough in those who by open force have reduced any 
 nation, and accordingly rule it with an high hand, if 
 they do sometimes use rigour and severity, like masters 
 towards their slaves when there is no other way of 
 holding them in subjection : but for those who are 
 magistrates in a free city, to endeavour to make them- 
 
 1 He begins with the first ground of men's being serviceable 
 and obedient to us, love ; to which he adds its opposite, fear : 
 and comparing them one with another, rejects the latter as a 
 very unsafe and inconvenient one, and magnifies the former. 
 
 m Julius Caesar, who was assassinated in the Senate-house, 
 See Sutton, and PlxU. 
 
 n By adhering to Mark Anthony, and others, who pretended 
 to be revengers of his death ; endeavouring to fire the houses, 
 Ac. of the conspirators, &c. See the afore-cited authors. 
 
 o 
 
146 TULLY'S book ii, 
 
 selves feared by the people, is one of the maddest and 
 most desperate attempts upon the face of the earth. 
 For though a man should by his power and greatness 
 oppress the laws and over-awe liberty by terror and 
 threatenings, yet still they will find time to recover 
 again, first, by the private resentment of the citizens, 
 and afterwards by their choosing, in secret consults, 
 some worthier person to free them from the oppressor. 
 And liberty, after she has been chained up awhile, is 
 always more cursed, and sets her teeth in deeper, than 
 she would otherwise have done if she had never been 
 restrained. Let us therefore embrace and adhere to 
 that method, which is of the most universal influence, 
 and serves not only to secure us what we have, but 
 moreover to enlarge our power and authority \ that is, 
 in short, let us rather endeavour to be loved than 
 feared, which is certainly the best way to make us 
 successful, as well in our private as our public business. 
 For those who desire to have others be afraid of them, 
 must needs be afraid of those others in their turns: 
 what, for instance, shall we imagine of the elder 
 Dionysius ? With what eternal fears and apprehensions 
 must he needs be racked, when, daring not to venture his 
 throat to any razor, he was forced even to singe off his 
 beard with coals p $ or what of Alexander* 1 , who was 
 surnamed the Pheraean ? In what torment, think we, 
 must he perpetually live, when, as it is usually reported 
 of him, he dared not so much as to rise from table, 
 
 ° A tyrant of Syracuse, son of one Hermocrates. He seized 
 upon the government at twenty-five years old, about the year 
 of Rome 447. [See our author's Tusc. Quest."] His son of the 
 same name succeeded him in his tyranny ; but was expelled for 
 it by Dion. See Plut. Life of Dion. 
 
 P His barber one day happening to say, that his life was in 
 his hands, he caused him to be murdered, and made his daugh-' 
 ters shave him for some time. But afterwards suspecting even 
 them too, he used singeing, as the safest way he could think of. 
 
 <J See c. xxx. book i. He, by his savage cruelties and injus- 
 tice, made all the world hate him. The Thessalians begged 
 aid of the Thebans against him, who sent their general Pelopi- 
 das several times ; whom he by treachery got into his power, 
 and kept prisoner a good white. 
 
chap. mi. OFFICES. 147 
 
 and go to bis own wife Thebe's chamber, one whom he 
 loved with an entire affection, without a barbarian, and 
 him, as it is said, too a branded Thracian r , to lead 
 the way with his naked sword ; and would always dis- 
 patch some of his guards before him, to search all the 
 clothes and coffers of the women, for fear lest any 
 weapon might be concealed within them ? O miserable 
 and unhappy man, who could think a barbarian, one 
 who carried the marks of his condition in his forehead, 
 would be faithfuller to him than his own wife ! Nei- 
 ther, it seems, was he mistaken in it 3 for he was 
 afterwards murdered by her procurement 9 , upon sus- 
 picion of having to do with some other woman. Nor 
 indeed can any authority, how absolute soever, subsist 
 very long when it is thus generally feared : Phalaris* 
 himself, who is particularly remarkable for his barbarous 
 cruelties, may serve for a witness to this truth 3 who 
 was not destroyed by domestic treacheries, like that 
 Alexander whom I just now mentioned 5 nor yet by 
 tome few men conspiring his death, like our late 
 tyrant ; but by a general insurrection of all the Agri- 
 gentines falling upon him at once. Again, Did not 
 the Macedonians revolt from Demetrius 11 , and all with 
 one consent march over to Pyrrhus ? And when the 
 
 T The Thracians were counted some of the savage<?t barba- 
 rians, and ordinarily made use of by tyrants in those times, 
 as the fittest executioners of their bloody designs. To be 
 marked on the forehead was a token of honour among: them, as 
 it was of disgrace and slavery amongst others. But Cicero 
 here seems to speak of this man, as a slave or villain : it is 
 probable therefore he might be a Thracian slave, and marked 
 as such after he came into Greece. 
 
 • She persuading her three brothers to it, who accordingly 
 slew him in his bed. See Plut. Life of Pelopidas. 
 
 1 A noted tyrant of Agrigentum, in Sicily, son of Laodamas, 
 born at Astypalea, but expelled his own country. He is re- 
 markable for his cruelty, particularly for a brazen bull, in 
 which he used to torture those, whom he had a mind to get 
 rid of. He is said however to hare loved learning and learned 
 men. There is still extant a Book of Epistles under his name. 
 
 * Surnamed Peliorcetes, a king of Macedonia, son of Anti- 
 gonus, one of Alexander the Great's captains. By his pride 
 
 o 2 
 
148 TULLYS 
 
 BOOR If, 
 
 Lacedaemonians grew insolent and tyrannical, did not 
 their allies upon a sudden forsake them, and shew 
 themselves idle and unconcerned spectators of their 
 ruin at Leuctra*, without ever stirring one foot to their 
 assistance ? 
 
 CHAP. VIII. 
 
 The just and gentle government of the old Romans : when 
 changed, and the fatal consequences of that change, 
 C&sars and Syllas unjust cruelties. One cause of civil 
 wars is, men hoping to raise themselves by them. All 
 have occasion for some friends, though not for general 
 love. 
 
 I MUCH rather choose, upon such a subject, to 
 bring instances from foreign, than our own nation. 
 However, I cannot but observe thus much, that so 
 long as our empire supported itself, not by the methods 
 of injustice and violence, but rather by actions of 
 kindness and gentleness 3 wars were undertaken to 
 protect its allies, or defend its honour, and accordingly 
 their issues were attended with mercy, or at least no 
 more rigour than was absolutely necessary. The se- 
 nate then was a kind of port and refuge for princes 
 and nations to have recourse to in their need ; and our 
 officers and commanders made it their greatest glory 
 to defend their provinces, and assist their allies, with 
 justice and fidelity. This city therefore was not then 
 the empress y, so properly as the protectress of all the 
 
 and insolence he made the Macedonians desert him, and go 
 over to Pyrrhus. See his Life in Plutarch. 
 
 x A town in Boeotia, where the Lacedaemonians were entirely 
 routed by the Thebans, under the conduct of their brave 
 leader Epaminondas. See c. xxiv. book i. 
 
 y Patrftcinium verius quam imperium. It was the duty of a 
 patron to protect and defend, not to rule over his clients : and 
 one was never the less free, because he was under the patron- 
 age of another, but only the more safe as being protected by 
 him. In lifee manner one nation might be under another, aiut 
 
chap. vin. OFFICES. 149 
 
 world. This conduct and method of managing the 
 state, began by little and little to wear off before, but 
 utterly vanished immediately after the victory of Sylla* j 
 for people began to think nothing could be unjust to 
 their confederates and allies, when once they had seen 
 so great cruelties exercised even upon their very fellow- 
 citizens. This man therefore was in a just cause, but 
 which was followed by a cruel and most unjust victory : 
 he having had the boldness and impudence to say, 
 when in full market he was selling the goods of some, 
 honest and wealthy men, and whom he himself knew 
 to be Roman citizens, that he was going to make sale 
 of his own booty. But there has come one after him, 
 whose cause was impious, and his victory yet more 
 scandalous and inhuman*; who did not stop at selling 
 of private men's estates, but involved all our countries 
 and provinces together in one common calamity. 
 Hence we have seen, after havoc and devastation made 
 in other countries, as it were by way of prelude to the 
 loss of our own empire, the city Marseilles 1 * drawn 
 along in triumph; and that very place, without whose 
 assistance our former generals never brought a triumph 
 from beyond the Alps, has now found one that could 
 have so much impudence, as to triumph over its own 
 destruction. I might bring in a great many other ex- 
 amples of most impious treatment that hath been 
 shewn towards our allies : but this single instance is 
 
 as it were, the client of another, and yet be a free nation for 
 all that. Whence there is a difference in Roman authors, 
 betwixt in fide esse, and in ditione esse pop. Roman. The latter 
 denoting a loss of liberty; the former only some sort of inferi- 
 ority and homage. 
 
 E Luc. Sylla the dictator. He took up arms against Marius, 
 and defended the cause of the nobility against the commons, 
 in a bloody civil war : but after his victory was inhumanly 
 cruel. See his life at large in Plut. 
 
 a He means Julius Caesar. 
 
 b A city in France, which had always taken part with the 
 Romans, in all their wars on that side. But declaring for 
 Pompey in the civil war, it was sacked by Caesar; who carried 
 along a figure of it, as was their usual custom, with him ia 
 triumph. 
 
 o3 
 
1&> TULLY'S 
 
 BOOK 11 * 
 
 abundantly sufficient, being one of the basest that was 
 ever committed before the face of the sun. The truth 
 of it is, we have deserved these misfortunes; for if 
 others had not escaped without punishment for their 
 wickedness, this man could never have arrived at that 
 insolence,- who though he has left but few heirs of his 
 estate, I am afraid will have a great many wicked ones 
 of his ambition : for as long as some dissolute and 
 profligate fellows remember that former inhuman 
 auction^ and are in hopes one day of seeing the same 
 again, they will always be for propagating civil dissen-* 
 sions. Thus Publius Sylla, who was so busy in that 
 mentioned, when his kinsman was dictator, was never 
 contented till he had managed a worse and more inhu- 
 man auction six and thirty years after d : and another*, 
 "who was scribe in that former dictatorship, in this 
 latter was advanced to be treasurer of the city. By 
 all which it is easy enough to perceive, that we are 
 never to expect we shall be free from civil wars, so 
 long as people hope to make their fortunes by them.— 
 We have therefore only the walls of our city remaining 
 entire, and even they, as it were, expecting to feel the 
 effects of their abominable wickedness $ but as for the 
 Republic, it is absolutely sunk into ruins and nothing. 
 And all these misfortunes have fallen upon us (that I 
 may return to the subject which occasioned this di- 
 gression) by our choosing to govern rather by fear than 
 love. What then ought particular persons to expect 9 
 "when tyranny and oppression could bring all these 
 svils upon the whole Roman empire 3 This then being 
 so manifestly plain, that love is a most powerful mo- 
 tive to obedience, but fear a most weak and dangerous 
 one f 5 ft follows in the next place, that we should di£- 
 
 c When Lucius Sylla sold the goods of the Roman citizens, 
 whom he had outlawed, and caused to be slain. 
 
 d When Caesar sold the goods of those who had been of 
 Pompey's party. 
 
 e One Cornelius, mentioned by Sallust in Lepidus the consul's, 
 speech against Sylla. 
 
 • f Having shewn how convenient love, and how inconvenient 
 fear is, for the advancement of our interest 5 it remains that 
 
CHAr. vni. OFFICES. 151 
 
 course of those mean?, whereby such a love, joined 
 with honour and confidence, may most easily be got- 
 ten. Now this is what all men do not equally stand 
 in need ofj but each should consider his own way of 
 living, and accordingly judge what is convenientest for 
 him 8 j whether to be beloved by the generality of men, 
 or only by some few and select persons. This however 
 we may lay down for certain, as a first and most ne- 
 cessary rule in this case, to procure at least some faith- 
 ful and sincere friends, who may have a true kindness 
 and esteem for us. As far as this reaches, there is 
 very little difference between even the greatest and 
 meanest of people, and all sorts of them are almost 
 equally concerned to endeavour after it. As for ho- 
 nour, glory, and the general good-will of all the citi- 
 zens 11 ; these indeed are things which are not alike 
 useful and necessary for all. However, for those that 
 have been able to get them, they are very good helps, 
 as for most other purposes, so for the obtaining of 
 faithful friends : but of friendship 1 have treated in 
 another work, which is entitled Lcelius. 
 
 he should shew how the former maybe obtained. To it he joins 
 honour and confidence ; the second and third means mentioned 
 c. vi. which three together make up true and perfect glory. See 
 the next chap. 
 
 t Before he enquires how this love is to be gotten, he di- 
 vides it, (if I may so say,) into love of friendship, which con- 
 sists in having some few good friends ; and this he says all, 
 whether great or mean, are almost equally concerned to get ; 
 and general love, which consists in the kindness and general 
 good-will of all the citizens ; and this is necessary but to some 
 few. Of the former he has spoken in his Lteliiis, or of friend- 
 ship ; and therefore passes it by here. The latter he gives 
 some rules about here, as making up, together with confidence 
 and admiration, true and perfect glory. 
 
 h That is, though all do not stand in need of the general 
 love and good-will of the citizens, yet particular and private 
 friends are as useful to the meanest, as to the great and more 
 powerful. 
 
152 TULLY'S book n. 
 
 CHAP. IX. 
 
 What the ingredients of true glory are. By what means 
 the love of the people may be obtained. Hoiv men may 
 be brought to place a confidence in us. Justice more 
 powerful than cunning to this end. 
 
 JLrfET us now proceed to discourse of glory ; though 
 that too is a subject, upon which I have two books 
 already extant 1 ; however, I shall touch upon it here 
 in short, because it is a thing of such weight and mo- 
 ment towards the successful management of the most 
 important affairs. True and perfect glory, then, is 
 always made up of these three ingredients: First, 
 the love and good-will of the multitude. Secondly, 
 their trusting and reliance upon a man. And, lastly, 
 their valuing and admiring him, so as to think him a 
 person that really deserves honour. The means of 
 getting these three from the multitude, to give one 
 short and easy rule, are very much the same as from 
 particular persons. However, there is another pecu- 
 liar way of approaching the people, and gaining ad- 
 mittance into the hearts and affections of all men in 
 general. Of those three then, which I just now men- 
 tioned, let us first see the ways of obtaining love k . 
 Now the love of the people is moved by nothing so 
 much as by bounty and doing kindnesses : next they 
 are pleased with an hearty desire and inclination to- 
 wards it, though a man have not wherewithal to exer- 
 cise it : thirdly, the very name and reputation of hav- 
 ing beneficence and liberality, justice and fidelity, with 
 the rest of those virtues which give a kind of smooth- 
 ness and agreeableness to our conversation, is of very 
 great efficacy in getting us the favour and love of the 
 
 * They are both lost. He mentions them two or three times 
 in his Epistle to Atticus, particularly book xvi. epist. 6. 
 
 k He discourses, in order, of the ways how to obtain these 
 three, and first love ; the means of gaining which are liberality, 
 a generous disposition, &c. 
 
• hap. ix. OFFICES. 153 
 
 multitude : and the reason of it is, because honesty 
 and decorum delight us of themselves, and by their 
 own native beauties and excellencies move and engage 
 the hearts of all men : which seeing they appear with 
 more lustre and virtues, which I just now mentioned; 
 it follows, that by nature we must love those people, 
 in whom we suppose such virtues to reside. And these 
 are the principal causes of men's loving us: there 
 might, 1 confess, be some others given, but not of 
 equal weight and importance with these. We are to 
 speak in the next place of their trusting or confiding 
 in us 1 ; for the compassing of which, it is necessary 
 we should be supposed to have two qualifications, viz. 
 prudence and justice. For we trust those men'", whom 
 we believe to understand matters better than we do 5 
 to be wise enough to see things before they are arrived, 
 and in the management of them, if any danger should 
 happen, to be ready at finding out ways and expe- 
 dients, to disentangle themselves from the perplexities 
 of it : in which men imagine that all true and profita- 
 ble wisdom consists. But when a man is found really 
 just and faithful", that is good, we place so much 
 trust and confidence in such a one, as not to entertain 
 any the least suspicion of deceit or injury. To such a 
 man therefore we think we may wisely, and with a 
 secure confidence, entrust our safeties, our children, 
 and our fortunes. Justice therefore, of these two vir- 
 tues, has much the more strong and effectual tendency 
 to procure this credit and confidence from the people, 
 For that, even without wisdom, can go a great way 
 toward the obtaining of this end ; whereas wisdom, 
 without that, is unable to do any thing: for the more 
 shrewd and cunning any person is, the more he is sus- 
 pected and hated by the world, if he be not counted 
 
 1 Secondly, how men are brought to confide and trust in us, 
 which is the second part of true glory. The two great means 
 arc justice and prudence, or knowledge of business ; of these 
 justice is the chief. 
 
 m How prudence makes men confide in us. 
 
 » How justice makes men confide in us. 
 
154 TULLY'S book ii. 
 
 honest and upright withal. Justice therefore, in con- 
 junction with wisdom, can make a man be trusted as 
 far as he pleases; justice without the other can do a 
 great deal ; but the other without that is of no force 
 at all. 
 
 CHAP. X. 
 
 Why he talks of wisdom and justice as separate from one 
 another, though really there is a mutual connection 
 between them. What will make men admire any one. 
 The difference between despising and having an ill 
 opinion of a man. 
 
 OOME men perhaps will be ready to admire, since it 
 is so generally agreed on by philosophers, and has 
 been so often asserted by me myself, that whoever has 
 one must have all- the virtues ° : why I should speak of 
 them separately now, as though it were possible for 
 a man to have prudence, without having justice at the 
 same time. I answer, that the way of expression is 
 highly different, according to the difference of the 
 subjects we are treating of; whether they are such as 
 require a niceness and subtlety in handling, or to be 
 suited to the capacities of ordinary people. I do but 
 speak here with the vulgar therefore, when I call one 
 man courageous, another just, and a third prudent; 
 for in treating upon a subject which concerns the peo- 
 ple, we must make use of common and ordinary ex- 
 pressions ; which is what has been done by Pantius 
 himself. But to return to our purpose : of the three 
 
 In the former chapter he mentioned prudence and justice as 
 separate from one another, whereupon it is objected that he 
 talks unphilosophically ; all the philosophers (and himself too) 
 having maintained, that the virtues are all connected and linked 
 together, and cannot be separated from one another. This 
 objection, with his answer to it, occasions this short digression! 
 See the third note on c, v. book i. 
 
CHAP. x. OFFICER. 155 
 
 ingredients 11 , which we said were required to the mak- 
 ing up of glory; the third was this, that men should 
 admire and value us so, as to think we arc persons that 
 really deserve honour. Now generally speaking they 
 are apt to admire whatever they see great, and beyond 
 their apprehensions 11 ; and likewise in particulars, if 
 they discover any excellency which they never expected. 
 They admire those therefore, and extol them even to 
 the skies, in whom, as they think, they have found 
 any rare and extraordinary qualities : but as for those 
 others, who have neither virtue, spirit, nor courage in 
 them, these men they wholly despise and set light by. 
 For they cannot be said to despise all those, of whom 
 they entertain but an ill opinion r . They are far from 
 thinking well of your roguish, backbiting, cozening 
 sort of fellows, who are never unprepared for the do- 
 ing man an injury; but by no means despise them for 
 all that; their contempt, as was said, lighting only 
 upon those, who neither do good to themselves, nor 
 others, as we commonly speak ; that is, who spend all 
 their lives in mere idleness and sloth, without ever 
 minding or taking care of any thing. Those who are 
 esteemed to excel in virtue, more especially draw men 
 to wonder and admiration 8 ; who keep themselves free, 
 as from all other things that are base and unbecoming, 
 so more especially from those sorts of vices, which the 
 rest of mankind cannot so easily stand against. Plea- 
 sures, for instance, are very alluring and charming 
 mistresses, which are apt to ensnare the better part of 
 the soul, and entice it aside from the paths of virtue $ 
 
 p He has shewn how the two first ingredients of true glory, 
 viz. the love and confidence of the multitude, are to be obtained : 
 here he proceeds to the third, their admiring, &c. 
 
 q The extraordinariness of any thing', the first cause of 
 men's admiration. 
 
 r But rather are afraid of them, lest they should do them 
 some injury, or other. 
 
 1 A more particular cause of admiration is extraordinary 
 virtue : especially resisting pleasure and pain, which most men 
 are apt to be conquered by ; which is courage or greatness of 
 soul. 
 
156 TULLY'S book ii. 
 
 and pain, on the contrary, racks and torments us, so 
 that the dread of it carries most men beyond the bounds 
 of reason. Thus again, when life and death, riches 
 and poverty, are the things in question, there are very 
 few men but are wholly transported with desire of the 
 one, and abhorrence of the other. When a man 
 therefore has got such a great and exalted soul, as that 
 he can look upon all these things with indifference; 
 and closely pursue and adhere to honesty, in whatever 
 shape she presents herself; then it is that virtue ap- 
 pears with such a brightness, as that all the whole 
 world must admire her beauties. 
 
 CHAP. XI. 
 
 Justice, and a contempt of riches, are especially causes of 
 mens admiration ; justice alone procures all the three 
 things which make up glory, and how. It is a neces- 
 sary virtue for alt sorts of people. Even robbers and 
 pirates cannot subsist without it. Some examples to 
 this purpose. 
 
 OUCH a constitution of soul therefore, as can make a 
 man despise all these goods or evils*, begets him a 
 mighty esteem and admiration ; but especially justice, 
 which single virtue serves to give men the name and 
 denomination of good, seems much the most admirable 
 to the generality of people: and not without reason, 
 it being impossible for any one to be just, who is afraid 
 at the approaches of death, of pain, of banishment or 
 poverty; or prefers those things which are contrary 
 to these 51 , before the great duties of justice and honesty. 
 And more particularly yet, men admire those, whom 
 
 * Those mentioned in the last chapter, pleasure and pain, 
 riches and poverty, &c. 
 
 a For it is but clapping a pistol, or the like, to such a man's 
 breast, and he will betray his friend or country, break his word, 
 or any thing in the world, rather than lose his beloved life j 
 and consequently cannot be resolutely just. 
 
 * Viz. life, pleasure, riches, &c. 
 
. xr. OFFICES. 157 
 
 they find unconcerned as to the matter of money; and 
 count them tried, as it were like gold in the fire, who 
 have been able to withstand the temptations of it. 
 Justice therefore of itself U sufficient to procure those 
 three things that are requisite to glory; in the first 
 place, the love and good-will of the people ; because 
 its chief aim is the being serviceable to very many*. 
 Secondly, their confidence: and thirdly, their admi- 
 ration ; for the same reason, because it neglects and 
 despises those things, which the rest of men pursue 
 with such eagerness and passion. Now, in my opinion, 
 not only the being in a public station, but every 
 method of living whatsoever, requires the helps and 
 assistance of men 2 ; as for other ends, so particularly 
 for this, that we may have some familiar friends to 
 converse with ; which it is no easy matter for a man 
 to obtain, without at least the shew and reputation of 
 honesty. From hence it follows, that it is necessary 
 even for those men themselves, who have withdrawn 
 from the world, and chosen the quiet and retirements 
 of the country, to be reputed at least men of honesty 
 and integrity : and that so much the more, because 
 otherwise they will certainly be counted dishonest ; and 
 then, having nothing of guard or defence, they must 
 needs be exposed to perpetual injuries. The same 
 justice also is necessary for those, if ever they hope to 
 succeed in their business, who buy, sell, let, hire, 
 and are concerned in the commerce and affairs of the 
 world : nay, it is a thing of such powerful moment 
 and universal influence, as that those who live only 
 upon villanies and wickedness, can never subsist with- 
 out something of justice : for should any thief steal 
 
 y He takes justice in the larger sense here, so as to compre- 
 hend bounty and liberality. See first note in c. vii. book i. 
 
 1 Having shewn how necessary justice is, for those who live 
 in the eye of the world, and endeavour to get true and perfect 
 glory: he is now going to shew, that it is necessary als >> for 
 all sorts of men, viz. those of privacy and retirement ; those 
 of trade and commerce in the world; nay for even thieves and 
 pirates. 
 
 P 
 
158 TULLY'S book h. 
 
 from another that belonged to the same confederacy, 
 he would immediately be expelled, as unfit to be a 
 member even of a society of robbers $ and should the 
 leader himself not distribute their booty, according to 
 the measures of justice and honesty, he would either 
 be murdered or deserted by his company. Nay, it is 
 said that .your robbers have some certain statutes, 
 which they are all of them bound to observe among 
 themselves.* Theopompus 8 tells us of a certain rogue, 
 one Bardylis b , an lllyrian, that got a great power by 
 the fame of his justice in dividing the prey: and Vi- 
 riatus c the Lusitanian, got a much greater, to whom 
 even some of our armies and generals d were forced to 
 yield, till he was beaten and weakened by that Caius 
 Laelius*, who was surnamed the Wise, in the time of 
 his praetorship$ who brought down his haughtiness to 
 so low an ebb, as to render the war easy for those that 
 came after him. If justice then be of so great efficacy, 
 as to raise and increase even the power of pirates 5 of 
 what mighty force must we suppose it to be in the 
 midst of laws, and in a well-constituted republic ? 
 
 • A famous Greek historian, born in the isle Chios, and scho- 
 lar of Isocrates, who used to say that he was forced to use a 
 spur to Ephorus, and a bridle to Theopompus. He is highly 
 commended by several of the ancients. Corn. Nep, accuses 
 him of ill nature in his characters of men. He left several 
 works, which are lost. 
 
 b He was afterwards conquered by Philip, son of Amyntas, 
 king of Macedonia. Pyrrhus, the famous king of Epirus, mar- 
 ried his daughter, 
 
 • A man of very great cunning and valour ; he was first a 
 huntsman, afterwards a general of a formidable army. See 
 Florusy Paterc. 8fc. 
 
 • C. Plautus and M. Vitellus, or, (as others say,) Claudius 
 Unimanus, the Praetors. At last Servilius Caepio got him 
 treacherously murdered. 
 
 • The same whom he brings in speaking in his beok De 
 Amicitia* 
 
chai\ xn. OFFICES. 159 
 
 CHAP. XII. 
 
 What made men at first choose kings, and make laws. 
 Thejustest men usually made kings; and why. Hoi* 
 to make use of the glory he hath been discoursing of. 
 An excellent rule of Socrates. Glory must be founded 
 upon solid virtue. Whatever is counterfeit will some- 
 time be discovered. 
 
 JLT was for the sake of enjoying the benefits of this 
 justice f , the great use of which we have now been 
 discoursing of, that the Medes heretofore, as we are 
 told by Herodotus g , and I am apt to imagine our own 
 ancestors too, chose always the honestest persons for 
 their kings. For the poorer sort of people, being op- 
 pressed by the richer, had recourse to some one of 
 remarkable virtue, to save and protect them from 
 violence and injuries; who constituting measures of 
 equity and justice, bound the greatest to observe them 
 as well as the meanest. And that which was the reason 
 for their choosing kings, in like manner put them 
 upon enacting laws : for men have always desired to 
 enjoy such a right, as all sorts of them might have an 
 equal share in, for otherwise indeed it would be no 
 right at all, which when they could get by the justice 
 and honesty of some one person, they were contented 
 with him, and never looked any farther ; but when 
 they could not, they were put upon a necessity of in- 
 venting laws, which could never be partial, but use the 
 same language to all ranks and conditions. It is very 
 plain, therefore, that those men were usually chosen to be 
 kings, who were counted by the people men of honesty 
 
 f He still goes on in his commendation of justice, and tells 
 us, that kings heretofore were chosen according to their cha* 
 raclers for justice and integrity. 
 
 s The 6rst of any great note among the Greek historians, 
 v/-ry well known by his works, which are still extant in nine 
 books ; which for their sweetness and elegance are deservedly 
 called by the names of the nine muses. 
 
 P2 
 
160 TULLY'S- 
 
 JBOOK II. 
 
 and integrity; but if they were held prudent and wise 
 withal, the people thought there was nothing they 
 might not obtain by their conduct and management. 
 By all means therefore let us constantly follow, and 
 stick close to justice; as for its own sake, (for otherwise 
 indeed it will not be properly justice,) so for the in- 
 crease of our honour and reputation. Now as it is not 
 sufficient for a man to get riches, unless he has the 
 wisdom to dispose of them b , so, as thereby to furnish 
 out all his expences, not only those of his bare neces- 
 sities, but those of his bounty and liberality too : so 
 neither is it enough for a man to get glory 1 , unless he 
 knows how to make use of it with discretion ; though 
 what Socrates says is very excellent to this purpose, 
 <f that the readiest way, and, as it were, shortest cut, 
 to arrive at glory k , is really to be what one desires to 
 be accounted." Those people therefore are highly 
 mistaken, who think of obtaining a slid reputation^ 
 by vain shews arid hypocritical pretences ; by com- 
 posed countenances and studied forms of words : for 
 true glory takes deep rooting, and grows and flourishes 
 more and more ; but that which is only in shew 
 and mere outside, quickly decays and withers like 
 flowers -j nor can any thing be lasting that is only 
 
 b He has shewn what these virtues are, which make the 
 people love, &c. But as it is not enough for a man to get 
 riches, unless he knows how to make use of them too ; so after 
 we have gotten the virtues he has mentioned, the next thing 
 that comes to be considered is, how we should use them, so as 
 to be remarkable in the world ; and let people see, by our 
 practice and exercise in some sort of life, that we are such 
 persons as deserve their love, confidence, and admiration. — 
 For these virtues themselves are only the ground-work or foun- 
 dations, as it were, of perfect glory : and we know founda- 
 tions are laid in the earth, and require something else to be 
 built upon them, before they are taken notice of in the eye of 
 the world. Here he puts in, by way of caution, a saying of 
 Socrates, that we make sure in the first place that we really 
 are such, &c. 
 
 * By glory here he understands the virtues of justice, &e, 
 which he has just been discoursing of, as the foundations of 
 true glory. 
 
 k Outward glory, not the virtues themselves* 
 
chap. xili. OFFICES. 161 
 
 counterfeit. 1 might bring a great many pregnant 
 examples for the proof of these assertions ; but for bre- 
 vity sake, I shall content myself with those of but one 
 single family. Tiberius Gracchus 1 , the son of Publius, 
 will always be praised and had in admiration, as long 
 as there shall any memorials remain of the Roman 
 achievements; but his sons m , on the contrary, were 
 not in their life-times approved of by good men; and 
 since their decease have been numbered among those, 
 who were justly slain. 
 
 CHAP. XIII. 
 
 What young men should do to make themselves known, 
 and taken notice of in the world. Courage in war, the 
 first thing that sets off young men. Another, temper- 
 ance, sobriety , #c. Keeping often company with wise 
 and good men, another thing that very much recommends 
 them. 
 
 AT is the business therefore of those, who desire to 
 get true glory, strictly to discharge all the duties of 
 justice; what those are, we have shewn already in the 
 former book. I shall now proceed to lay down some 
 directions, how a man should do to appear before the 
 world what he is in himself 5 though that of Socrates 
 
 1 A noble, wise, and valiant Roman, who was twice consul, 
 and as often triumphed ; and at last was made censor, in which 
 office by his wisdom and prudence he saved the Republic. [See 
 Cic. de Orat. 1. 9.] He married Cornelia, the daughter of the 
 elder Africanus, by whom he had the two Gracchi. 
 
 *» Tib. and Caius Gracchus, two eloquent and ingenious 
 young men : but for attempting to make laws pernicious to the 
 state, about equally dividing lands, &c. they were both slain ; 
 the former by Scipio Nasica, and the latter by Opimius the 
 consul. See Paterc. book ii. c. ii. iii. vi. vii. and their livea 
 in Plut. 
 
 n His design is to shew, what methods a young man, who is 
 just coming into the world, (supposing he has laid a foundation 
 of virtue,) had best enter upon, that he may make himself 
 known, and taken notice of among his citizens, that so his 
 virtues may not lie hid and concealed. In order to which he 
 
 P3 
 
162 TULLY'S 
 
 BOOK II. 
 
 Socrates is certainly the wisest that can possibly be 
 given, to make sure in the first place that he really be 
 in himself, that which he desires to appear before the 
 world. For when a young gentleman is just come into 
 the public, and is already knowrTand remarkable in it, 
 either by the fame of his father's actions, (which 1 think, 
 son Marcus, may be your case;) or by any other 
 means or accident whatsoever - 7 the eyes of all are im- 
 mediately upon, and every one is "enquiring after what 
 he does, and how he steers his life $ and, as though 
 he were set in the public view, so none of his actions, 
 or so much as his words, can be long kept in secret. — 
 But those, who at the beginning and entrance of their 
 lives, by reason of their meanness are unknown to the 
 world ; as soon as they arrive at years of discretion, 
 should set before their eyes the most honourable places, 
 and bend all their studies and honest endeavours toward 
 the obtaining of them ; which they ought to do with 
 so much the more boldness, because men are so far 
 from envying youths that they rather encourage and 
 forward them in their progress. The first thing then, 
 that sets a young man off, and recommends him to the 
 public, is courage and bravery in martial affairs ; by 
 which a great many amongst our forefathers, who were 
 scarce ever wholly disengaged from wars, very nobly 
 distinguished and signalized themselves. But you, my 
 son, have had the misfortune to light upon the times 
 of a civil war, wherein the one party was wicked and 
 detestable*, and the other unfortunate and un successful q ; 
 in which, however, when Pompey had given you the 
 command of one wing", you got much praise from 
 
 distinguishes young men, into those who are remarkable al- 
 ready upon their ancestors' account, &c. and those who are 
 unknown and obscure. They must both take to some honour- 
 able way oUife, so as to signalize their valour, honesty, &c. 
 
 * Courage in the wars, the first ;thing that makes a young 
 man become remarkable. 
 
 p That of Julius Caesar. 
 
 * That of Pompey the Great. 
 
 * Each body of foot consisting of two legions, had twcy 
 troops of horse to support it, one on the right hand and the 
 
u. OI, 163 
 
 that great commander and all his army, by your 
 riding, darting, and patiently abiding all the fatigues 
 of war. But as for this piece of your rising glory, 
 that, and the whole constitution of the Republic, are 
 both df them fallen to the ground together. But I 
 never designed so to model this discourse, as that it 
 should be proper for none but you 5 but that it might 
 be applicable to all men in general ; I shall go on 
 therefore to the remaining part of it. As then in all 
 things the functions of the soul are more noble and 
 excellent than those of the body ; so the effects of our 
 reason and understanding are greater and more power- 
 ful, as to this particular, than those of mere strength. 
 Now of these there is none that can more recommend 
 and adorn a young man, than temperance and sobriety*, 
 duty and respect to his natural parents, love and good- 
 nature towards his friends and relations. Another 
 good way for young people to get known, and have a 
 good reputation, is often to attend on some great and 
 wise men, who are thought to design for the good of 
 the public*: for when they are observed to be fre- 
 quently with such, the people are presently apt to 
 imagine, that they will be like those men, whom they 
 choose for their patterns. Thus Pub. Rutilius", when 
 he was young, had the general vogue of a very honest 
 man, and an able lawyer, because he frequented the 
 
 other on the left. Cicero's son commanded one of these, being- 
 called wings. 
 
 » Of the virtues that do not require strength of body, tem- 
 perance, &c. most recommend a young man. 
 
 1 A third thing that recommends young men is, keeping 
 frequent company with those that are wise, and lovers of their 
 country. 
 
 ■ P. Rutilius Rums, a noble Roman, consul together with 
 Cn. Mallius. He was scholar of Panastius, [see book iii. c. 3.] 
 a great lover of learning, and very well skilled in philosophy 
 and the civil laws. Cicero in his first book de Oratore calls 
 him Exemption innocentia : and Veil. Paterc. book ii. c. 13. 
 Virum non sui tanlum se.culi y sed omnis a-vi optimum. However 
 be was accused by the malice of some men, and condemned of 
 extortion, and accordingly banished. Of which see the fore- 
 fcited places. 
 
164 TULLY'S 
 
 BOOK II. 
 
 house of Mutius*. As for Crassusr, whilst he was 
 very young, he was not beholden to any one else, but 
 obtained of hims« If everlasting honottr, by undertaking 
 that noble and glorious accusation z $ when at that 
 term of years, wherein others are commended if they 
 begin but to study and exercise the art ; (as we have 
 it recorded of the famous Demosthenes ;) at that age, I 
 say, did Crassus make it appear, that he could perform^ 
 that laudably in the open courts of justice, which he i 
 might, without disparagement, have been studying 
 at home. 
 
 CHAP. XIV. 
 
 Discourse of two sorts. Affability very powerful to obtain 
 mens love, 8$c. But eloquence much more. Several 
 occasions of shewing a man's eloquence. To defend 
 more laudable than to accuse; but the latter in some 
 cases honourable enough. Several examples of brave 
 accusations. It is lawful in some cases to defend the 
 really guilty ; but never to accuse the innocent. The 
 judges' and advocates* duties. Defending the accused, 
 especially honourable, when it is against some power- 
 ful oppressor. 
 
 -OUT of speaking or discourse there are two sorts 3 ; 
 the one proper only for common conversation, the 
 
 x P. Mutius Scaevola, a noble Roman, famous for his know- 
 ledge of the civil laws, and withal an eloquent speaker ; there- 
 fore called by our author, Jurisperitorum disertissimus. He was 
 consul with Calpurnius Piso, about the year of Rome 620, 
 when Tib. Gracchus raised his sedition: and afterwards made 
 Pontrfex maximus. 
 
 y Lucius Crassus, the famous orator, whom he mentioned 
 book i. c. 30. 
 
 2 Of G. Carbo, a very eloquent man, who had been tribune 
 and consul; whom Crassus, at the age of nineteen years, when 
 others begin but to study eloquence, publicly accused and got 
 condemned, so that he poisoned himself. 
 
 * Having ended the last chapter with Crassus's accusation of 
 Carbo, and the credit he got by it : this easily brings him to 
 
chap. xiv. OFFICES. 16* 
 
 er for pleadings and debates in the public. Of 
 these two the latter, whieh is what we call eloquence, 
 is apparently more powerful towards the procurement 
 of glory ; but yet it is unexpressible of what influence 
 courtesy and affability are, in the business of obtaining 
 lien's love and affections b . There are extant letters of 
 
 lip* to Alexander, Antipater 4 to Cassander, and 
 Antigonus* to Philip; in which these most wise and 
 prudent princes (for such we are told they really were) 
 advise each his son to speak kindly to the multitude, 
 and try to win the hearts of both them and the soldiers 
 by gentle words and familiar appellations. But that 
 other discourse 1 , which is proper for pleadings and 
 harangues in public, does oftentimes move and tran- 
 sport the whole multitude : for when a man speaks to 
 them fluently and plausibly, they are presently rapt 
 into a strange admiration, and cannot but conclude, 
 as soon as ever they hear him, that he is wiser and 
 more knowing than the rest of men are. But if there 
 be modesty joined with the power and weight of his 
 eloquence, there is nothing in the world can more 
 raise their admiration ; and especially too, if he be a 
 young man that speaks. Now the subjects and occa- 
 sions, that stand in need of eloquence are more than 
 one, and several young gentlemen, in our own Repub- 
 lic, have made themselves eminent in several of them : 
 
 another thing, that recommends young men, and makes them 
 to be taken notice of, viz. their discourse. This he divides 
 into two sorts, and speaks upon them severally. 
 
 b Of the first sort of discourse, viz. that of common conver- 
 sation ; and its power. 
 
 • Son of Amyntas, father of Alexander the Great. 
 
 d A soldier of Philip's, left governor of Macedonia, by Alex- 
 ander, when he invaded -Persia ; at last he poisoned Alexander, 
 by his son Cassander's means. See Quint. Curtius. 
 
 • A king of Macedonia, not father, but only first guardian 
 and afterwards father-in-law to Philip, who was son of Deme- 
 trius, king of Macedonia and Epirus. 
 
 f The second sort of discourse, viz. eloquence : of which he 
 speaks pretty largely, and gives some rules about accusations, 
 relating to their lawfulness, frequency, &c. 
 
M6 TULLY'S book ii. 
 
 some for example, by speaking in the senate-house, 
 and others, by pleading in the courts of justice. Of 
 these ways the latter is most fruitful of admiration, 
 the duties of which are only two, defending and ac- 
 cusing. It is much more commendable to defend than 
 to accuse; however, this latter has oftentimes brought 
 men to a considerable reputation. We mentioned the 
 example of Crassus but just now, and Marcus Anto- 
 nius 8 , when he was a young man, did the same; 
 and nothing got Sulpitius h so much credit for his elo- 
 quence, as his brave accusation of Cains Norbanus, a 
 very seditious and troublesome citizen. This neverthe- 
 less must be done but seldom, or indeed never, unless 
 it be undertaken on the behalf of the Republic, as it was 
 by those three whom I just now mentioned : or, se- 
 condly, upon the account of some injury received, as 
 by the two Luculluses 1 ; or else for the sake of those 
 under our protection, as was formerly done by myself k 
 for the Sicilians ; and by Julius l for the Sardinians against 
 Marcus Albutius : in like manner Fusius* made his 
 
 f Grandfather to Mark Anthony the Triumvir; whom he 
 brings in speaking in his de Oratore ; a very eloquent person, 
 as appears from the great praises he there gives him. He was 
 consul and censor, called by V. Patercul. Princeps Civitatis et 
 'JEloquentia, He was afterwards killed by the command of 
 Marius and Cinna. The person, by whose accusation he gained 
 this credit, was Cn. Papirius Carbo. 
 
 k One of the interlocutors in his de Oratore, and there com- 
 mended for an excellent speaker. He accused Norbanus, 
 whom Anthony defended, [See de Orat. ii. 28.] He was tribune 
 of the people, and joining with Marius against Sylla, was slain 
 by Sylla's order. Veil. Pate re. 
 
 i Lucius and Marcus, who accused Servilius the augur, 
 because he before had accused their father. See our author's 
 Quest. Academic. I. 4. §. 1. 
 
 k In his orations against Verres. 
 
 1 I have followed the correction of Langius, Manut. &c. who 
 would have it read, Pro Sardis i?i or Contra Albutium Julius. 
 Vide Ed. Grcevii. 
 
 m He mentions this accusation in his Brutus, where he says 
 Fusius got a great deal of credit by it. Anthony the famous 
 orator defended Aquilius, and, to move the judges to pity, 
 pulled open his clothes, and shewed them his honourable 
 
chap. xiv. OFFICES. 167 
 
 industry be taken notice of, by bis accusing; Aquilius. 
 Once then, or so, it is allowable enough j but by no 
 means often* However, should the commonwealth 
 call it man to it, he might do it often upon her account, 
 it being no disgrace to be often employed in taking 
 vengeance on her enemies. Yet, even in this case, it 
 is still the best way to be moderate and cautious; for 
 he shews himself a man of very unnatural and merci- 
 less temper, or rather indeed not a man at all, but a 
 savage monster, who can endure to make it his very 
 business and employment, to bring many people into 
 danger of their lives : bende, that it is dangerous to 
 the person himself too ; and not only so, but even 
 scandalous and shameful, to get himself the odious 
 name of an accuser; which of late was the fortune of 
 Marcus Brutus 11 , a person that was sprung of a noble 
 family, and son of that Brutus, who was so particu- 
 larly famed for his skill in the civil laws. It is another 
 rule of duty more especially to be taken notice of, and 
 which cannot be broken without manifest villany, 
 never to bring an innocent person into danger. For 
 since kind nature has given us eloquence, to serve for 
 the good and preservation of all men, what can be 
 more, either wicked or inhuman, than to turn it to 
 the ruin and destruction of the best of them ? It is 
 our duty then never to accuse the innocent; but we 
 need not, on the other hand, make any scruple of 
 speaking sometimes in behalf of the guilty, provided 
 he be not wholly villanous and abominable. For this 
 is no more than what the people desire, than what 
 custom authorizes, and the common bowels of humanity 
 incline us to. It is the duty of a judge to endeavour 
 
 wounds in his breast. Aquilius was consul with Mariu?, An. 
 Urb. Cond. 652, and accused of bribery and extortion. Multis 
 avaritie criminibus, testitnoniisque convictois. Cic. Orat. pro Flac. 
 
 B He mentions both father and son in bis dc Orrttort\ the one. 
 for an excellent lawyer, who wrote several books; and the son 
 for a loose debauchee. And in his Brutus he calls the father 
 an excellent man, and very skilful of the law ; but the son a 
 disgrace to his family, Ac. 
 
 © Viz. those that are innocent, 
 
16B TULLY'S book it. 
 
 after nothing but the real truth ; but an advocate some- 
 times may speak up for that, which carries no more 
 than an outward appearance of it $ which, 1 think, I 
 should hardly have ventured to say, especially in writing 
 a philosophical discourse, but that I perceive it was 
 the opinion of Pansetius, a person of as great and con- 
 siderable authority, as any among the Stoics. But 
 defending is that which brings the largest returns both 
 of glory and interest j especially if one happen to be 
 assistant to those, who seem injured and oppressed by 
 the power of some great one. This was my fortune, 
 as a great many times, so more especially in my 
 younger days ; when I stood in defence of Roscius 
 Amerinus, against all the greatness and authority of 
 Sylla ; and you know the oration, which 1 then spoke, 
 is at this time extant p . 
 
 CHAP. XV. 
 
 Two sorts of liberality. Better to help men by our labour 
 and industry, than by our money. Philip s reproof to 
 his son Alexander to this purpose. The inconveniencies 
 of the second sort of liberality. Measures to be o&- 
 served in it. 
 
 JliAVING given this account of the particular duties 
 which young men must do for the attainment of glory q 5 
 we are next to discourse of beneficence or liberality. 
 
 p It is the second of his Orations as now printed. 
 
 9 Chap. vi. he laid down six. things, as reasons or motives of 
 men'k being profitable to us ; of these he rejected fear, as a 
 very dangerous and inconvenient one. Good will, honour or 
 admiration, *nd confkh nee, all which three go to make up 
 g-Iory, he hath already discoursed of, and shewn by what 
 virtue* tbey are to be obtained. There remain therefore only 
 two mote, viz. hope, when princes, &c. promise great dona- 
 tions ; and hire, when money is given. Both these he com- 
 prehends here under beneficence or liberality, and shews 
 what sort of donations are useful, and in what measure, 
 
xv. OF! 169 
 
 Of this there are two sorts; the one of which con- 
 sists in obliging those who need it, by our labour and 
 industry; the other by our money. The latter of 
 these two is much the more easy, especially for those 
 who have plentiful fortunes; but the former, on the 
 other hand, more glorious and magnificent, and more 
 suitable to the character of a brave and exalted soul. 
 For though there is a good-will and generous readiness 
 to oblige, shewn in either; yet in the one case we are 
 indebted to the chest, in the other to the virtues and 
 abilities of the person. Besides, those sort of kind- 
 nesses, which are done by the assistance of money, or 
 the like, within a short space of time draw their own 
 fountain dry ; so that this liberality doth, as it were, 
 eat out its own bowels, and the more you have formerly 
 obliged in this kind, the fewer you will be able to 
 oblige for the future. But now, on the other hand, he 
 whose generosity shews itself in labour, that is, in 
 virtue, and being active for another's good, the more 
 men he hath formerly shewn himself kind to, the more 
 he will have ready to assist him ever after; beside, 
 that by the custom of doing good offices, he gets a 
 kind of habit, and grows much more expert in the art 
 of obliging. Philip, the father of Alexander the Great, 
 reproves his son sharply in one of his Epistles, for 
 endeavouring to purchase the good will of the Macedo- 
 nians, by giving them donations. In the name of 
 wonder, says he, what method of reasoning could lead 
 you into such a thought, as to imagine that those men 
 would ever be faithful to you, whom yourself had cor- 
 rupted with money ? " What ! do you design to be 
 " thought, not the king, but only the steward and 
 " purse-bearer of the Macedonians ?" That steward and 
 purse-bearer is admirably well said, because it is so 
 scandalous a business for a prince ; and that calling 
 donations a corrupting the people, is better yet ; for 
 
 and in what particular cases, &c. And first he divides benefi- 
 cence into two sorts, of which he prefers the former for several 
 reasons. 
 
 Q. 
 
170 TULLY'S bookii 
 
 those who receive them are perpetually the worse for 
 it, and only made readier to Expect the same again. 
 Philip wrote this to his son alone, but it may serve for 
 a direction to all men in general. J think we may take 
 it for granted therefore, that that sort of bounty, which 
 consists in doing kindnesses by our labour and industry, 
 is more virtuous and creditable, can oblige more people, 
 and has more ways of doing it than that, other has. 
 Not but that sometimes a man should give, nor is this 
 sort of bounty to be wholly rejected ; nay, one ought 
 oftentimes to distribute some part of one's money to 
 those, who are well-deserving persons, and stand in 
 need of such assistance ; but still it must be done with 
 great prudence and moderation r . For some men have 
 squandered away whole estates by inconsiderately giv- 
 ing; which is certainly the foolishest thing in the 
 world; for so a man disables himself ever after from 
 doing that which he takes most delight in s . But the 
 worst thing is this, that profuseness in giving is usually 
 accompanied by unjust ways, of getting. For when by 
 this means men have parted with what is their own, 
 they are forced to lay hands upon that which is an- 
 other's : and by this means they miss what is their prin- 
 cipal design, viz. the obtaining men's love by their 
 bounty and generosity ; for they get more hatred from 
 those whom they injure, than good- will from those 
 whom they hoped to oblige by it. We ought therefore 
 neither so to lock up our riches, as that even liberality 
 itself cannot open them ; nor so to keep them open, as 
 if they were common to all men in general 5 the best 
 way is, always to observe a due medium, and give 
 more or less in proportion to our estates. In fine, we 
 should do well to remember a saying, which is now 
 grown so common as to be a proverb amongst us, Bounty 
 has got no bottom: for how indeed is it possible, there 
 should ever be any end of it, when those who are used 
 
 * The word dillgentia in this place properly signifies, the 
 making a choice and distinction between persons. 
 
 • Viz. Shewing his bounty and generosity in giving ; because 
 he has given away already. 
 
* hap. xvi. OFFICES. 171 
 
 to it, look to receive again 5 and others, from seeing 
 them, are taught to expect the same ? 
 
 CHAP. XVI. 
 
 Two SQrts of givers. How liberality and prodigality differ. 
 What the chief advantage of riches. Public shows to 
 the people very foolish. Several examples of magnificent 
 /Ediles among the Romans. 
 
 OF those who give largely, there are two sorts 3 the 
 one of which are prodigal, and the other liberal '. 
 The prodigal are those, who consume vast sums in 
 making public feasts, and distributing portions of 
 meat to the people : or in providing gladiators to fight 
 with one another, or with wild beasts in the theatres 5 
 or in making preparation for other such sports, and 
 recreations of the multitude : things that are forgotten 
 in a very short time, if ever at all thought on, after 
 once they are over. But the liberal are those who dis- 
 pose of their money in redeeming poor prisoners ; in 
 helping their friends and acquaintance out of debt ,* in 
 assisting them toward the marrying their daughters 5 
 or putting them into some method of making or in- 
 creasing their fortunes. I admire therefore, what 
 should come into Theophrastus's" head, who in a book 
 of his, which he wrote concerning riches, amongst 
 several noble and excellent things, has been guilty of 
 
 * Having given his reasons, why the first sort of beneficence, 
 which consists in obliging men by our labour and industry, 
 is preferable to the second which does it by money ; he begins 
 in this chapter to discourse of the latter, and divides those 
 that use it (the Largi, as he speaks) into two sorts, the one 
 prodigal, and the other liberal, in the proper and strict sense 
 of that word. He begins with the first, and discourses of it 
 to c. xviii. where he comes to the second, the liberal. 
 
 u The same that he mentioned book i. c. i. His book here 
 mentioned is now quite lost, but it is quoted by Diogenef 
 Laertius. 
 
 ft2 
 
in TULLY'S book ii. 
 
 one very grievous absurdity; for he runs out mightily 
 in commendation of magnificence, and giving public 
 shows or donations to the people; and thinks the sup- 
 plying of such expences as these, the very principal 
 fruit and advantage of riches : but in my opinion, it is 
 both a much greater, and more durable advantage, to 
 be furnished with money for those acts of bounty, of 
 which 1 have just now been giving some instances. But 
 Aristotle, with much more reason and judgment, re- 
 proves us for not being amazed at those sums, which 
 are daily thrown away to caress the people: " Should 
 " any one (says he) when a city is besieged, and re- 
 <e duced to great straits, give a large sum of money 
 " for a little cup of water, people would wonder and 
 " admire at it strangely, and hardly be persuaded to 
 "believe it at first; but afterwards possibly, upon 
 " farther consideration, would be ready to pardon it, 
 " because it was a case of mere exigence and neces- 
 " sity x : but yet we can see, without any thing of ad- 
 c< miration, those vast charges and infinite expences, 
 *f which men put themselves to for no reason in the 
 " world, neither for the relief of any want or neces- 
 " sity, nor yet for the increase of their glory and dig- 
 " nity : and that pleasure of the multitude which is 
 €€ principally aimed at, is of the shortest continuance; 
 u and only tickles and soothes up the meanest of the 
 < s people, who themselves will forget the satisfaction 
 " they received, as soon as ever the show and recrea- 
 iC tion is at an end/' He adds, moreover, with a great 
 deal of reason, "That children indeed, and some tri- 
 " fling women, together with slaves, and the more 
 " servile part of those who are free, might perhaps 
 <f take a pleasure in such foolish kind of pastimes ; but 
 " that men of true prudence, and those who judge of 
 
 * Nothing of this here quoted is to be found in any of the 
 works of Aristotle now extant; which makes the learned Mu- 
 retus think, that it ought to be read Aristo, who was a Stoic 
 philosopher, mentioned b> Seneea in his 29th Epist. and who 3 
 as we learn from Plutarch, wrote a book upon the subject of 
 riches. 
 
HAl>. XVI. 
 
 OFFICES. 173 
 
 M tbtfigfi by the rules of reason, can by no means 
 " either commend or approve of them." 1 know it is a 
 custom in our Republic, and has been from the time of 
 our good forefathers, to expect and demand, even 
 from "the soberest citizens, something that is splendid 
 and magnificent in their jEdileships*. Hence Publius 
 . who was surnamed the Wealthy, and really 
 was such, in his office of iEdile was very magnificent 
 and noble in his entertainments; and Lucius Crassus 3 , 
 a little while after, was fully as generous, though 
 colleague of Mucius b , the most moderate man living. 
 Next after these came Cains Claudius , the son of 
 Appius; and a great many others, viz. the Luculli*, 
 Hortensius e , and Silanus f . But Publius Lentuluse, 
 when I was consul, exceeded all others that ever went 
 
 y An office in Rome, which required their taking care of the 
 public buildings, temples, &c. as also the public games on 
 any solemn occasion, plays, and the, like. It was usually 
 counted the first step toward other offices ; into which the peo- 
 ple chose men, according' to their good or ill behaviour in this. 
 Hence they usually spared no pains, charges, &c. so as they 
 could but please the multitude. 
 
 2 A noble Roman, surnamed Mucianus, because adopted 
 into the family of the Crassi, from that of the Mucii. He was 
 the first that gave the people a fight of elephants in his i^Edile- 
 ship. He was afterwards consul and ponii/ex maximus. 
 
 a The famous orator, mentioned before. 
 
 k The Augur, who married the daughter of the wise Laelius : 
 mentioned by our author in the beginning of his De Amicitia. 
 
 ■ Surnamed Pulcher ; he first had their scenes in the theatre 
 painted, whereas before they were bare boards. 
 
 4 The two brothers Luc. and Marc, who were both jEdileg 
 together, and made the scenes to turn round, and so often, 
 whereas before they were fixed and unalterable. 
 
 * The most celebrated Roman orator next to Cicero, and 
 often his opponent ; consul six years before him. Sae his dwath 
 excellently lamented at the beginning of our author's Brutus. 
 
 f D. Junius Silanus, who was consul next after Cicero, with 
 L. Lucinius Mursena. 
 
 t Surnamed Spinther, consul six years after Cicero, whom 
 he recalled from his banishment. To him is written the first 
 book of his familiar Epistles. He was the first that wore a pur- 
 pie gown double-dyed, and made the vela op curtains in th* 
 theatre of fine Cyprus linen. 
 
 a3 " 
 
174 TULLTS BOGEii, 
 
 before him ; who was afterwards followed and copied 
 by Scaur us h . But of all these shows, that have been 
 given to please and entertain the people, those of my 
 friend Pompey were the greatest and most magnificent, 
 exhibited when he was the second time consul*. In all 
 which cases it is easy to see what is my opinion*. 
 
 CHAP. XVII. 
 
 Expences to please the people allowable in some cases, 
 and what they are. Some examples of laudable ones, 
 Upon what one may best lay out his money in this kind. 
 
 JX O man however should be so far moderate, as to 
 draw upon himself the suspicion of avarice. Mamer- 
 cus 1 , a person of very great riches, was put by the 
 Consulship, for no other reason, but because he refused 
 to be JEdile first. If such things therefore are demanded 
 by the people™, and allowed of, though perhaps not 
 desired by good men, they must even be performed; 
 but so as to keep within the compass of your estate, as 
 I myself did. Nay, though they should not be de- 
 manded by the people, yet they might wisely enough 
 be presented them, upon a prospect of gaining some 
 more considerable advantage by it. Thus Orestes 11 of 
 
 h He built a noble theatre, with vast pillars of fine marble, 
 and was so profuse in his iEdileship, that Pliny says, he utterly 
 ruined the Roman moderation, and that Sylla did more harm 
 in encouraging his prodigalities, than he did by all his murders 
 and cruelties. 
 
 1 He brought lions, panthers, and elephants in vast numbers 
 to fight before the people. See a full and excellent description 
 of these diversions given by our author, Epist. i. lib, 7. &d 
 Famil. 
 
 * See the latter end of the next chapter, and our Author's 
 Epist. Fam. lib. ii. <?/>. 3. 
 
 1 A name of the Emilian family. Mamercus /Emilius Lepi- 
 dus was consul with D. Brutus, An. U. C. 676, It is uncertain 
 whether he be meant here or not. 
 
 » When, and bow far such sorts of giving are allowable. 
 
 n A surname of the Aurelian family. This is Cn. Aufidius 
 Orestes 3 so called because he was adopted by Cn. Aufidius, 
 
mi. Ol'FICES. I7i 
 
 late got a great deal of credit, by giving the people a 
 dinner in the streets, under the notion of paying his 
 tenths to Hercules . Nor did any one ever find fault 
 with M. Stius, for selling out corn at an easy rate, in 
 the time of a very great dearth and scarcity -, for he 
 got himself free from a great and inveterate hatred of 
 the people, by a cost, which, considering he was at 
 that time ^Edile, was neither dishonest, nor yet extra- 
 ordinary great j but of all, my friend Milo got the 
 greatest honour, by purchasing gladiators for the de- 
 fence of the public, which was wholly included in my 
 single safety, and thereby defeating the mad and per- 
 nicious attempts of Clodiusp. Such charges therefore 
 are not to be shunned, when either they are necessary 
 or very advantageous j but even when they are so, we 
 must still not exceed the due limits of mediocrity. — 
 Luc. Philippus, the son of Quintus, an extraordinary 
 ingenious and eminent man, was wont, 1 confess, to 
 be making his brags, that he got all the honours the 
 Republic could give him, without ever spending one 
 farthing that way : Caius Curio n used to say the samej 
 
 [Cic. pro domo, c. xviii.] He was afterwards consul with 
 Corn. Lentulus Sara, An. U. C. G82. 
 
 " It was a custom among the Romans, upon any great un- 
 dertaking 1 , to vow the tenth of their income to some god, to- 
 make him prosper t hem-in their undertakings. Orestes, under 
 pretence of paying this to Hercules, gave a great deal of vic- 
 tuals to all the people in public, that so he might gain their 
 favour. 
 
 p Clod ins was a vile and profligate fellow, a great enemy to 
 Cicero, whom in his tribuneship he got banished, (see Cicero's 
 Life in Piut.) but IVJilo being tribune the year following, endea- 
 voured to bring back Cicero again. Clodius violently opposed 
 it, and getting together some of his own gang, and a parcel of 
 gladiators, fell upon the people as they assembled about it, 
 and slew several. Milo, on the other side, brought gladiators 
 to defend Cicero, and in him, as he says, the Republic itself. — 
 This is that Milo, who afterwards killed this Clodius ; for which 
 being accused, he was defended by our author in that incompa- 
 rable oration, which is still exvant. 
 
 <» An excellent Roman, consul with Cn. Octavius, in the year 
 of Rome 677 ; a good man, and a lover of virtue, as well as 
 learning. He was also a very good orator, and is often men- 
 tioned by our author. His son was that Curio, who was tribune 
 
176 TOLLY'S book n. 
 
 and even I myself have some reason to boast upon this 
 account ; for considering the greatness of the honours 
 I got, and that too by every one of the votes, and 
 the very fir-t years 1 was capable of them, (which is 
 more than can be-said by either of those two, whom I 
 just now mentioned,) the charge of my iEdileship was 
 very inconsiderable. But the best way of laying out 
 money in this kind, is to repair the city walls, make 
 docks, havens, aqueducts, and the lik> ; things that 
 may serve to the general use and advantage of the pub- 
 lic. For though things which are present, and given 
 down upon the nail, are more acceptable for a time; 
 yet the memory of these will be more lasting, and con- 
 tinued even down to posterity. I forbear to speak 
 much against theatres, porticos, new temples, and 
 the like, out of respect to my old friend Pompeyj 
 but I find them not approved of by the most famous 
 men ; particularly not by Pansetius himself, whom I have 
 very much followed, though not quite translated in 
 this work. Neither are they liked by Demetrius Phale- 
 reus, who blames Pericles, one of the greatest men 
 amongst all the Grecians, for squandering away such a 
 vast sum of money* upon that noble structure at the 
 entrance of the Acropolis. But I have spoken suffi- 
 ciently upon all this subject, in those books which I 
 have written concerning the Republic 8 .- To conclude 
 therefore, all such profusions are, generally speaking, 
 1 think, to be blamed; but yet, at some times, and 
 upon certain occasions, may be rendered necebsary: 
 however, even then they must be proportioned to one's 
 estate, and kept within the limits of reason and mode- 
 ration. 
 
 of the people, and the grand incendiary in the civil war between 
 Caesar and Pompey. 
 
 r Above two thousand talents : this is that entrance to their 
 ancient tower called Acropolis, and (because under the protec- 
 tion of Pallas) Glaucopia, so often mentioned by ancient writers. 
 It had five noble doors, was covered with curious white stone, 
 and was five years in building. See Meurs. Cecropia. 
 
 * This work was in six books ; but it is now all lost except 
 some few fragments, of which Scipio's Dream is much the 
 argesr, as making a good part of the sixth book. 
 
MU*. win. OFFICES. 177 
 
 CHAP. XVIII. 
 
 Liberality to be varied according to the variety of cir- 
 cumstances. The merits of the receiver especially to 
 be considered. What acts of bounty we should more 
 particularly exercise. Measures to be observed in 
 receiving money. It is profitable sometimes to part 
 with ones right. When a man uses an estate as he 
 ought. Hospitality deservedly commended. 
 
 AN that other sort of giving *, which proceeds from 
 liberality, we should not keep constantly to one cer- 
 tain measure; but vary according to the variety of 
 circumstances in the persons that receive. His case 
 (for instance) who struggles at present under some 
 pressing necessity, is different from his, who is well 
 enough to pass, and only desires to improve his for- 
 tune. We should lend our assistance in the first place 
 to those, who are under the burden and weight of 
 some misfortune ; unless they are such as deserve to 
 be miserable : we should be ready however to forward 
 those likewise, who desire only of us our helping-hand, 
 not so much to save them from being unfortunate, as 
 to raise them to some higher degree of fortune. But 
 here we must be careful to acquaint ourselves tho- 
 roughly with the fitness of the persons"; for that of 
 Ennius is admirably well said : " 1 take good actions, 
 when ill applied, to become ill ones." 
 
 < He has done with the first sort of giving largely, viz. pro- 
 digality; which he thinks generally blameable, but in some 
 cases excusable. He comes now to the second, liberality, 
 which is seen not only in giving, but in receiving too. He 
 begins with giving; concerning which his first rule is, that we 
 8hould consider the circumstances of the person we give to. 
 
 u Secondly, In giving we should consider the person's de-- 
 serts : for kindnesses bestowed upon those, who do not deserve, 
 but will make ill use of them, are indeed no kindnesses, We 
 should make honest men the objects of our bounty in this kind. 
 
ITS TULLY'S book n. 
 
 Now that which is given to a truly honest and grate- 
 ful person, is paid us in the acknowledgment he him- 
 self makes, and in the good-will that is got by it from 
 the rest of the world. For nothing is more pleasing 
 to all mankind, than bounty bestowed without rashness 
 and precipitancy j and the generality of men praise it 
 so much the more, because the liberality of every great 
 man is a common kind of sanctuary for all that are 
 needy. We should endeavour therefore, as far as we 
 are able, to oblige many men by such acts of genero- 
 sity, as may not be forgotten as soon as ever they are 
 over ; but be remembered by the children and posterity 
 of the receivers, in such manner as to lay a necessity 
 upon them of shewing their gratitude ; I say necessity, 
 for all people hate one that takes no care of being 
 grateful to his benefactors, and count him that is such 
 injurious to themselves, because he discourages bounty 
 and liberality, and so is a common enemy to all the 
 poorer sort. Besides, this way of giving whereby cap- 
 tives are ransomed, and the meaner folk enriched, is 
 useful and advantageous to the public itself 5 and has 
 frequently been practised by those of our order, as 
 appears very fully from the oration of Crassus. That 
 other way therefore of expending money, which consists 
 in making shows for the entertainment of the vulgar, 
 ought, I think, by no means to be compared with this; 
 the one comports well with the character of a great 
 and a prudent person : the other of such as cajole the 
 people, and look out for pleasures to tickle the fancies 
 of the unstable multitude. And as it is a duty to 
 be generous in giving, so is it not to be too rigorous in 
 demanding*; but in every transaction of buying, selling, 
 letting, and hiring, to behave ourselves towards our 
 neighbours and chapmen, with all the fairness and 
 courtesy imaginable j to let go something of our strict 
 and just rights, upon certain occasions; to avoid all 
 
 x Having given some rules for the liberal man's direction in 
 giving or spending; he proceeds in this place to do the same 
 about receiving ; in which he would have him nat be too 
 rigorous, but courteous, complying, &c. 
 
tnvr. win. OFFICE?. 179 
 
 suits and contentions at law, as far as can reasonably 
 and fairly be expected ; perhaps J might add, and 
 even something farther; for in several cases to deliver 
 lip one's right, is not only generous but advantageous 
 too*. However, a man should have a decent regard 
 to his estate and fortune 3 for it is not over reputable 
 to let that be ruined by his easiness and neglect j and 
 yet on the other hand he should carry himself so, as 
 to avoid all suspicion of a sordid, mean, or avaricious 
 temper. For it is then a man uses his money as he 
 ought to do; when he shews himself liberal, without 
 ruining his fortune. Theophrastus z commends, and 
 with very good reason, another sort of bounty which 
 we call hospitality : for there is nothing, in my mind, 
 more handsome and becoming, than constantly to have 
 the houses of noblemen open, and ready to entertain 
 all strangers of fashion ; and it is no small credit and 
 reputation to the public, that strangers never fail to 
 meet with that sort of bounty and liberality in our 
 city; beside that there is nothing can be more useful 
 for those who design by honest means to get an in- 
 terest in the world, than to recommend themselves to 
 the esteem and good-liking of foreign nations, by the 
 help of those people whom they thus entertain, 
 Theophrastus tells us of Cimon a the Athenian, that he 
 shewed his hospitality even to all his brethren of the 
 Lacian tribe 1 *; and not only made it his own constant 
 
 # It is no small part of prudence, to know when to lose ; it 
 happening sometimes, and upon some occasions, that it is the 
 best way to act against one's present interest, and by omitting 
 a less advantage, to gain a greater afterwards. Pecuniam in 
 loco 7iegligere, says Terence, maximum interdum est lucrum. 
 
 1 One particular sort of bounty, which he thinks fit just to 
 bring in here, is hospitality. This he recommends as a thing 
 handsome and becoming in any city, and advantageous to get 
 a man interest, and make him known among strangers. 
 
 * The son 01 Miltiade?, a famous Athenian general, who 
 beat their enemies both at sea and land the same day ; he was 
 particularly tamed for his bounty and hospitality. See his life 
 ia Plut. and Corn. Nep. 
 
 b There were one hundred and seventy-four distinct tribes 
 cr peoples in Attica, one of which was called the Lacian, and 
 
180 TULLYS book n. 
 
 custom, but also commanded his bailiffs the same, to 
 keep open house for any one of the Laciadae that 
 should pass that way. 
 
 CHAP. XIX. 
 
 The liberality which consists in doing good offices for 
 others : two sorts of it. What sorts of study afford 
 most opportunities of it. The ruin of civil law and 
 eloquence. All men may do kindnesses of this nature 
 if they please. We should be careful of not offending 
 some, by obliging others. 
 
 X COME now to speak of that sort of bounty, which 
 consists not in giving, but in labouring for another's 
 good 5 and extends itself as to the Republic in general, 
 so to each member of the city in particular. The civil 
 lawd principally gives us opportunities of exercising 
 this; for there is nothing more proper to get a man 
 interest and credit in the world, than the managing 
 the law-suits of a great many persons, the assisting 
 them with his advice, and doing for them all that he 
 can by his knowledge, and skill in that learning. 
 And therefore L admire the wisdom of our ancestors, 
 as for several reasons, so particularly for this, that the 
 knowledge and interpretation of their excellent civil 
 law, was counted a matter of the highest credit and 
 reputation among them. This the greatest men ha^e 
 kept constantly among themselves, till this late sad 
 
 the men who were of it, Laciadas. Cimon was one of these, 
 and kept constantly open house for all those of his tribe. See 
 Meursius de Pop* Attic. 
 
 • He begins here with the second, and, as he thinks, (see 
 c, xv.) much better sort of beneficence, which consists in 
 doing kindnesses for others by our labour and industry. These 
 kindnesses may be either done to particular persons, or to the 
 Republic in general ; and first of the former. 
 
 d The first thing that puts a man in a capacity of serving a 
 great many people is the civil law j the knowledge of which 
 he highly commends. 
 
181 
 
 disorder and confusion of every tiling: hut now the 
 -glory of this sort of learning, together with all honours 
 and decrees of dignity, is utterly ruined and fallen to 
 just nothing. And to make the matter still so much 
 the worse j all this has happened in the days of one% 
 who, as he equalled in dignity all that have gone be- 
 fore him, so he was far above them in the knowledge 
 of the laws. This study then is approved of by most 
 people, and puts it in one's power to assist a great many, 
 and oblige them by kindnesses. There is another sort 
 of knowledge f nearly related to this, the art, I mean, of 
 persuasive speaking, which carries more majesty and 
 ornament along with it, and is more pleasing and liked 
 of, by the generality of men. For what is there in 
 the world more extraordinary than eloquence, whether 
 we consider the admiration of its hearers, the reliance 
 of those who stand in need of its assistance, or the 
 good-will procured by it from those whom it defends? 
 Our ancestors therefore held this among the chief of 
 their civil professions. Any one then must oblige a 
 great many, and have a large number of clients and 
 dependents, who is able to speak well, and willing to 
 take pains, and (as it was the custom among our good 
 forefathers 5 ) is ready to undertake many people's 
 causes, without ever expecting to be rewarded for his 
 trouble. And here I have a fair opportunity offered 
 me, to bemoan the great downfall, that I may not say 
 the utter extinction, of eloquence ; but that I am 
 afraid I shall seem to complain for my own sake only. 
 However I cannot but with some concern take notice, 
 u hat a great many excellent orators we have lost ; how 
 few there are rising, whom we can expect any thing from - 9 
 and how much fewer who are able to perform and do 
 
 ■ He means Ser. Sulpitkis, cne of the most eminent among 
 the Romans, for his skill in the civil law. 
 
 t X second thing which enables men to assist others this way 
 
 ioquence. 
 k There was even a law among the Romans, entitled, Cincia 
 de donis et muneribus 9 forbidding to take money, <ic. for defend- 
 > other's cause. 
 
X82 TULLY'S book if. 
 
 any thing ; and for all that, how many full of impudence 
 and presumption. Now it is not for all, nor indeed 
 for very many, to be either skilful lawyers 11 , or eloquent 
 pleaders : however, there is no one, if he would make 
 it his business, but may do friendly offices to several 
 people ; either by begging some kindnesses for them, 
 or by recommending their cases to the judges and 
 officers; or by being industrious in promoting their 
 interests ; or lastly, by using his endeavours with 
 those, who either are able lawyers, or eloquent orators; 
 which whoever shall do, will make a great many be 
 beholden to him, and get himself a general interest in 
 the world. There is one thing however I would ad- 
 vertise of 1 , though I think it is so obvious, that I hardly 
 need to do it, which is, to have a care of offending 
 some, whilst he is endeavouring to be serviceable to 
 others. For it often comes to pass, that such do an 
 unkindness, either to those whom they ought to have 
 obliged, or to those who are able to make them suffer 
 for it afterwards ; which shews carelessness and ne- 
 gligence, if done undesignedly ; but if designedly, rash- 
 ness and imprudence. And if it should happen that 
 we are forced, though unwillingly, to disoblige any 
 person, we must endeavour to excuse it as well as we 
 are able; by shewing the necessity we lay under of 
 doing so, and how it was utterly impossible for us to 
 avoid it; and must be careful and industrious to repair 
 the injury, by making some reasonable amends for it 
 afterwards. 
 
 h A third way of doing people kindnesses is, if we are not 
 ourselves able to manage their causes, by recommending them 
 to the judges, to those that are skilled in law, &c. 
 
 » He puts in a caution or two about these rules, viz. That 
 whilst we oblige one, we take care not to disoblige others, &c. 
 
cha?. xx. OFFICES. 183 
 
 CHAP. XX. 
 
 Men are readier to assist one that is wealthy and great, 
 than one that is poor and honest. Reasons why they 
 ought to do the contrary. The evil effects of men's 
 love of riches. — Never to do an injury to one, for the 
 sake of obliging another. 
 
 NOW whenever we do a kindness or friendly office to 
 another 14 , we usually regard one of these two things, viz. 
 either the honesty or the greatness of the person. It 
 is easily said, and every one is ready enough to profess, 
 that in placing their favours, they have much more re- 
 spect to the merits of the person, than to his fortune in 
 the world. This is very fairly and honestly spoken ; but 
 yet I would be glad to be shewn that man who is more 
 willing to help one that is honest and poor, than to 
 get the favour of one that is wealthy and powerful. — 
 For who is not readiest to be serviceable to those, from 
 whom he expects the most speedy requital ? But peo- 
 ple would do well to consider more thoroughly the 
 natures of things; for though a poor man, it is true, 
 cannot make a requital, yet if he is honest, he will 
 acknowledge the obligation : and it was no unhandsome 
 saying, whoever was the author of it, '* That in case 
 " of a debt, the man who acknowledges it, doth not 
 u thereby pay it ; and the man who pays it, does no 
 <c longer acknowledge it : but in case of an obligation, 
 " both he who returns it still continues to acknowledge 
 (t it, and he who acknowledges it, thereby sufficiently 
 u returns it." But now those, on the contrary, who 
 value themselves upon their riches, honours, and 
 
 k Having shewn what those things are, which put us into \ 
 capacity of helping others, viz. eloquence, civil law, &c. and laid 
 down a rule or two for our direction in doing it; he proceeds 
 to enquire, on whom we ought especially to hestow our kind- 
 nesses ; where he puts the question, Whether it is better to assist 
 a rich and a great, or a poor and honest man ? And argues fop 
 t'ae latter j because a poor man will be more grateful, &c. 
 
 R 2 
 
184 TULLYS book r* 
 
 Nourishing condition, will scorn to acknowledge they 
 are obliged for any kindness; nay, will think they 
 vouchsafe you a signal favour, even whilst you are 
 doing them some considerable service ; and will always 
 be jealous and suspicious over you, as though you 
 demanded and expected something from them : but to 
 have it ever said they were defended by you, or to be 
 numbered among your dependents or clients, is as 
 insupportable to them as even death itself. Whereas 
 your mean person, when any one does him a friendly 
 office, considers it was done out of respect to himself, 
 and not out of regard to his fortune or condition y 
 and endeavours to shew himself sensible of the obliga- 
 tion, not to him only who has done him the kindness, 
 but, as standing in need of some other men's assist- 
 ance, to those others also, from whom he hopes for 
 the like. And if he should chance to do another any 
 service, he does not endeavour to cry up and magnify it, 
 but rather to lessen it as much as he is able. Another 
 thing worth the considering is this, that if you defend 
 one that is wealthy and powerful, the obligation 
 reaches only to the person himself r or perhaps just his 
 children 5 but if you protect one that is needy and 
 forsaken, provided withal he be virtuous and modest, 
 all the lower sort of people immediately, that are not 
 wicked, which is no inconsiderable part of the multi- 
 tude, will look upon you as their safeguard and protec- 
 tion. Upon all which accounts I am wholly of opinion, 
 that a kindness is better bestowed upon an honest, than 
 it is upon a wealthy and fortunate person. We should 
 endeavour, it is true, to the utmost of our power, to 
 be serviceable to all men of whatsoever condition : but 
 if there should happen a competition between them, I 
 am clearly for. following Themistocles's advice, who 
 being once asked, how he would marry his daughter, 
 whether to one that was poor, but honest ; or to one that 
 was rich, but of an ill reputation ? Made answer, / 
 had rather have a man without an estate, than have an 
 estate without a man. But the mighty respect which is 
 paid to riches, has wholly depraved and corrupted our 
 
chap. xxi. OFFICES. 185 
 
 manners. And yet what does it signify to any one of 
 that such or such a person has got a plentiful for- 
 tune? Perhaps it may be useful to him that has it, 
 though not so neither always ; but allowing it to be so ; 
 suppose he has got the world more at his command ; 
 yet how, I would fain know, is he ever the honester 
 for it? But if a man be honest 1 , as well as wealthy, 
 though 1 would not have him helped for the sake of 
 his riches, yet I would not have him hindered upon 
 their account neither 5 but in every case have it fairly 
 considered, not how wealthy and great, but how good 
 and deserving a person he is. I shall conclude this 
 head with only one rule more ra , which is, Never for 
 the sake of doing any one a kindness, to venture upon 
 that which is unjust in itself, or injurious to a third 
 person. For no credit can be solid and durable, unless 
 built upon the foundations of justice and honesty; 
 without which nothing can be virtuous or com- 
 mendable. 
 
 CHAP. XXI. 
 
 Two sorts of that bounty which relates to the public, 
 Nothing to be done for the sake of the members in par- 
 ticular, which may any ways damage the public in 
 general. The first duty of the governors of a state, to 
 secure each particular in the possession of his own. 
 Levelling all estates very destructive. Why men first 
 built cities. Not to burden the people with taxes, a 
 second duty. A third, fo furnish the people with 
 necessaries. Covetuusness in a governor pernicious to 
 any state. The unhappy effects of it in the Roman 
 empire. 
 
 HAVING thus discoursed of the one sort of kind- 
 
 1 He gives this by way of caution ; though lie would not have 
 a mat) assisted lor being- rich, he would not have his riches be 
 an hindrance to him neither, provided he be otherwise an ho- 
 nd good man. 
 m The last rule to be observed in this sort of liberality. 
 R3 
 
186 TULLY'S *ook it. 
 
 nesses, which are done to particular members of the 
 city : we are now in the next place to speak of those 
 others", which are done to them all, and to the com- 
 monwealth in general. Now these again are of two 
 sorts, the one more immediately relating to the com- 
 munity; the other reaching down to each member in 
 particular- which latter of the two is more grateful 
 and acceptable. We should shew our beneficence, as 
 far as we are able, in both these ways; but especially 
 in this latter, which relates to each one of the particu- 
 lar members : in which however one caution must be 
 observed, that nothing be done in behalf of particulars, 
 but that which is useful, or at least not prejudicial to 
 the commonwealth in general. C. Gracchus , for in- 
 stance, made a large distribution of corn to the people; 
 and the effect of it was, that the treasury was exhausted 
 by it. Marcus Octaviusp was one that was moderate, 
 which was a kindness to the multitude, and no ways a 
 burden or grievance to the state $ and accordingly 
 both the public and all the members of the city, re- 
 ceived benefit from it. But the principal thing for a 
 governor to take care of is, that each individual be 
 secured in the quiet enjoyment of his own q , and that 
 
 D In c. xix. he divided that beneficence, which consists in 
 doing kindnesses by our labour, &c. into two parts : he has 
 done with the former, which respects particulars, and comes 
 now to the latter, which respects the state in general. This he 
 again divides into two sorts, some terminating in the state con- 
 sidered abstractedly hy itself ; others in ail the particular mem- 
 bers of it. About the latter he immediately gives us one di- 
 rection, never to do any thing for the sake of particulars, 
 which may any ways be prejudicial to the whole in general'. — 
 "Under the former he comprehends the duties of those that are 
 governors, and principal magistrates in the Republic ; concerning 
 ■which he discourses very largely. 
 
 • See e. xii. of this book. 
 
 P He was tribune of the people, together with Tib. Gracchus, 
 and resisted him very much, in his pernicious attempts, and 
 was therefore by him deprived of his office. What action of 
 his our author here means is uncertain. 
 
 <a The first duty of those, who are governors of a state, to 
 keep every man in the peaceful possession of what is bis 
 own. 
 
*.*xi. PICKS. 187 
 
 private men be not dispossessed of what they have', 
 Under a pretence of serving and taking care of the 
 public. For nothing is more destructive to the peace 
 of any nation, than to bring- in a new distribution of 
 estates, which was attempted by Philip 9 , in the time 
 of his tribuneship: however he quickly gave over his 
 design, and did not persist stubbornly in defence of it, 
 as soon as he found it was so vigorously opposed : but 
 in his public speeches and harangues to the people, 
 among a great many things to obtain their favour, he 
 was heard to say one of very dangerous consequence, 
 That the whole city had not two thousand men in it, 
 that were masters of estates: a very pernicious and 
 desperate saying, directly tending to bring all things 
 to a level ; which is the greatest misfortune that can 
 befal any people. For to what end were cities and 
 commonwealths established, but only that every one 
 might be safer and securer, in the enjoyment of his 
 own ? For though men are by nature sociable crea- 
 tures, yet it was the design of preserving what they 
 had, that first put them upon building of cities for a 
 refuge. It is a second duty 1 of the governors of a 
 state, to see that the people be not forced to pay taxes, 
 as they often were in our forefathers' time, partly be- 
 cause they were always in war, and partly by reason of 
 the lowness of the treasury. This is an inconvenience, 
 which ought, as far as possible, to be provided against 
 beforehand : but if any state should be under such 
 circumstances, as that it must be forced to make use 
 of this expedient ; 1 say any state, because 1 am un- 
 willing to suppose so unhappy a thing of our own ; 
 beside that ] speak here of all of them in general; 
 but if, I say, any state should be brought to such a 
 pitch, due care must be taken to let the people know, 
 that it is absolutely necessary, as affairs now stand, 
 and that otherwise they must needs be inevitably 
 
 r Which would have been done by the two Gracchi by their 
 equal distribution of lands. 
 
 > Luc. Marcius Philippus. See e. xxx. book i. 
 
 1 A second duty of a good goyernor, not to burthen, &c. 
 
188 TULLY'S 
 
 BOOK I3U 
 
 ruined. Again, it is yet further required of those 
 men, who govern and preside in a commonwealth 11 , to 
 see that it be furnished with all the conveniences and 
 necessaries of life. To tell what these are, and how 
 to be provided, would be altogether needless in this 
 place, since it is sufficiently known already 5 I only 
 thought fit just to touch upon it by the bye. But in 
 all kinds of business, and managing affairs of a public 
 nature, there is nothing more necessary, than always 
 to keep one's self clear and untainted, so as not to lie 
 under the least suspicion of avarice*. 1 could heartily 
 wish, said Caius Pontius y the Samnite, that fortune 
 had reserved me to those times, and that it had been 
 my fate to be then born, whenever the Romans shall 
 begin to take bribes -, I should quickly have put an end 
 to their flourishing empire. Truly he must have waited 
 a pretty many ages ; for that is a kind of evil, which 
 but lately has begun to infest this Republic. If Pontius 
 therefore were so great a man as he pretended to be, 
 I am very well satisfied with his being born when he was; 
 and not in those times which have lately happened. 
 It is not yet an hundred and ten years ago, since 
 Lucius Piso z got a law to be enacted against the cor- 
 ruption of magistrates, whereas there had never been 
 any one before. But since that time there have been 
 so many laws*, and still every new one more severe 
 than the former ; so many persons accused and con- 
 demned; such a vvar b stirred up in the bowels of Italy, 
 
 u To provide necessaries for the support of the people, a 
 third duty of a governor. 
 
 x A fourth duty is, to be free from even any suspicion of 
 avarice. 
 
 y He was the Samnite general when the peace was made 
 with them at the passage of Caudium, to the great disgrace 
 and shame of the Romans. See Livy, book ix. c. 1. 
 
 z L. Calpurnius Piso, the first of those who were surnamed 
 Frugi, tribune of the people when Censorinus and Manilius 
 were consuls, about An. U. C. 603. Author of the Lex Calpur- 
 nia de pecuniis repetundis. 
 
 • Junia, Servilia, Acilia, &c. Vide Calv, de Leg, 
 
 *» He means that which was called the Social war, of which 
 he only brings one, and that a \ery remote cause. Livius 
 
LP. xxn. OFFICES. 169 
 
 by those who were afraid of being brought to punish- 
 ment j such shameful extortion, and pillaging our allies, 
 by those who have defied all laws and courts of justice; 
 that we were rather beholden to the weakness of others, 
 ♦ban our own strength or virtues, that we arc not 
 utterly ruined. 
 
 CHAP. XXII. 
 
 Examples of contempt of money among the ancient Romans. 
 The danger, #c. of the opposite vice. The honour 
 gotten by this virtue. The danger, folly, #c. of the 
 project of levelling estates. 
 
 _t ANiETIUS highly commends Africanus c , for his 
 being uncorrupt as to the matter of money. It is 
 a virtue that well deserved his commendation : but 
 1 think there were others in that great person, 
 which deserved it much more; to be untainted with 
 money being not properly a virtue of that man, as of 
 those times in general. Paulus iEmilius** had all the 
 wealth of Macedonia in his power, which amounted 
 to almost an infinite value ; so that he brought such a 
 sum into the treasury, as that the single booty of that 
 one general superseded the necessity of all taxes for the 
 
 Drusus, tribune of the people, amongst several laws about the 
 freedom of all Italy, proposed that all those who were suspected 
 of bribery, should be made to answer for it. Hereupon the 
 senators, who were pretty guilty, disliking this one, opposed 
 and hindered all his other laws. This made the Italian nations, 
 who thought to have been made free of Rome, but by this 
 means were frustrated, rise up in arms against the Romans, 
 upon which ensued the Social or Italian war ; of which see the 
 historians. 
 
 c The second Seipio of that name, who rased Carthage and 
 Numantia; and was scholar to Panaetius. 
 
 d He conquered Perseus, king of Macedonia, and led him 
 in triumph ; thereby putting an end to the second Macedonian 
 war, and that empire together. See his life in Plut. 
 
190 TULLY'S book n. 
 
 future 5 and yet he brought nothing to his own house, 
 but the eternal memory of his name and achievements. 
 Africanus followed 6 the example of his father, and 
 returned nothing richer from the overthrow of Carthage. 
 So Mummius, wlio was afterwards his partner in the 
 censorship; did he make himself ever a farthing the 
 wealthier, by rasing one of the wealthiest cities in the 
 world f ? No, he rather chose to make Italy fine with 
 the spoils of his enemies, than his own house 5 though 
 in my opinion the fineness of Italy reflects a bright 
 lustre upon his own house too. There is no vice then, 
 that I may return to the subject from which I have di- 
 gressed, more detestable than avarice -, more especially 
 in great men, and such as bear sway in the government 
 of a state ; for it is not only mean for a man to make 
 a prey and advantage of the commonwealth, but even 
 impious and abominable. That oracle therefore of the 
 Pythian Apollo's, that nothing but avarice should be 
 the ruin of Sparta, doth not seem designed for the 
 Lacedaemonians only, but for every wealthy and flou- 
 rishing nation. And as avarice s is thus very destructive 
 to a state, so to appear upright and regardless of 
 money, is the certainest method those in power can 
 make use of, for procuring the love and good-liking of 
 the people. But those, who designing to curry their 
 favour, attempt new laws about the levelling estates, so 
 
 • The same that was just now mentioned. He was son of 
 Paulus, but adopted by Scipio. 
 
 f Corinth, which was rased by Mummius, the same year 
 that Carthage was by Scipio. See Paterc. book i. c. 12. 
 where the two generals are very handsomely compared to- 
 gether. 
 
 « He has told us by precept, and from the examples of the 
 greatest men, that governors of a state should be free from 
 covetousness and regardless of money. Here he adds, that 
 nothing so much recommends them to the good liking of the 
 people as that virtue ; which brings him to discourse of a foolish 
 method, that some men have taken to this purpose ; viz. a 
 design of bringing all estates to an equality, and making all 
 creditors remit their debts; which he shews to be unsafe^ un- 
 reasonable, &c, 
 
chap. xxii. OFFICES. 191 
 
 as to force the right owners from their lawful posses- 
 sions ; or propose to make creditors remit all the debts, 
 which in ju-tice are due to them ; plainly undermine 
 the two principal pillars and supporters of the govern- 
 ment 1 ': in the first place, concord and unity amongst 
 the citizens, which can never be kept up, whilst some 
 are deprived of what is justly their due, and others 
 discharged from the necessity of payment : secondly, 
 justice, which immediately must sink into ruins and 
 nothing, if men cannot be secured in the possession of 
 what is their own : for that (as we before remarked) 
 is the chief end and aim of men's gathering into 
 societies, and building of cities, that each one might 
 freely enjoy what is his right, without any danger or 
 fear of being deprived of it. Besides this, the authors 
 of these pernicious designs never get that good will, 
 which they propose, from ttieir citizens'; tor, as for 
 those men, who are losers by such a method, it is cer- 
 tain that they will be their enemies for it • and those 
 who are gainers, will be sure to pretend that they 
 never desired it ; especially in the business of having 
 debts forgiven ; there every one dissembles how glad 
 he is of it, for fear it should be thought he was not able 
 to pay them. But those men, to whom such designs 
 are prejudicial, will hardly forget them, but shew a 
 perpetual grudge and resentment. And though the 
 number of these, who are thus wickedly befriended, 
 be greater than of those who are injuriously robbed ; 
 yet it doth not follow, that therefore they are more 
 powerful 5 for it is not the number, but the quality of 
 the persons that must carry it in this case. Besides, 
 what reason or equity is there, when estates have been 
 held for a great many years, or perhaps ages, that the 
 rightful owners should be thrust out from them, and 
 others, that never had any, should come and possess 
 them k : 
 
 h First, he shews it is destructive to a state, by ruining con- 
 cord and justice, which are the supports of it. 
 
 1 Secondly, It is foolish; for it does not procure them that 
 good-liking of the people which they thought to get by it. 
 
 k Thirdly, It is very unjust and unreasonable. 
 
19% TULLY'S book n, 
 
 CHAP. XXIII. 
 
 Several examples of the unhappy effects of taking away 
 men's estates, in order to bring things to a level. 
 The wise conduct of Aratus the Sicyonian, in doing the 
 contrary. — What a magistrate's duty in such cases is. 
 
 Jc OR such kind of partial, injurious proceedings 1 , 
 the Spartans once banished Lysander m , one of their 
 Ephori n ; and put to death Agis° their king, for the 
 same reason 5 an action unheard of before in that city. 
 This was succeeded by such grievous contentions and 
 discords in the state, as that tyranny and oppression 
 got the upper hand amongst them ; the nobles were 
 banished from their native country, and the best con- 
 stituted Republic upon the face of the earth was utterly 
 dissolved and brought into confusion. Nor did this 
 mischief end with the Spartans only, but, like a conta- 
 gion, spreading itself further, involved all Greece in the 
 same miseries and calamities. Pray what is it that 
 ruined our own two Gracchi, sons of the famous Tibe- 
 rius Gracchus, and grandsons of Africanus p , but only 
 these controversies about levelling estates? Aratus * 
 
 1 Having shewn how pernicious, foolish, &c. these designs 
 are ; he gives here some examples of their unhappy effects ; 
 and of the good ones of their contrary practice. 
 
 m Not their famous general Lysander, son of Aristarclytus, 
 who beat the Athenians, &c. but another, son cf one Olbis, 
 made Ephori by king Agis, and his assistant in his designs. 
 
 n The word signifies inspectors or overseers ; they were 
 officers among the Spartans, usually five in number, much like 
 the tribunes in Rome, who restrained the power and greatness 
 of their kings ; so that appeals were allowed from the kings to 
 them, as in Rome from the consuls to the tribunes. 
 
 * The third king of Sparta of that name, son of Eudamidas, 
 and sixth in descent from the famous Agesilaus ; who, for en- 
 deavouring to alter the then present state of things, and bring 
 in some obsolete laws of Lycurgus, about the dividing lands 
 into equal portions, &c. was murdered by the contrary faction. 
 See his life and death in Plut. 
 
 p The elder, whose daughter Cornelia was married to Sem- 
 pronius Gracchus, and had those two sons by him. 
 
 « A nobleman of Sicyon, a city of Peloponnesus, son of onp 
 
«hap. xxiii. OFFICES. 193 
 
 the Sicyonian is deservedly commended as much on 
 the other hand: he, when his country for fifty years 
 together had been greatly oppressed and over-run by 
 tyrants, went secretly one night from Argus to Sicyon, 
 and made himself master of the city by surprise; and 
 unexpectedly falling upon Nicocles, the then tyrant, 
 he put him to flight. This being done, he recalled 
 six hundred of the wealthy citizens, who had all 
 been formerly banished by the tyrant, and by this his 
 arrival, delivered the city from slavery and oppression. 
 But he afterwards found it would be a great deal of 
 trouble to settle the business of their estates and pos- 
 sessions ; for he thought on the one hand it was very 
 unreasonable that those men, whom he had restored, 
 should want, whilst others enjoyed what in equity was 
 theirs ; and yet it seemed hard upon the other side, 
 that men should be thrust out of those possessions, 
 which now they had held for these fifty years : if, more 
 especially it were wherewithal considered, that it could 
 not but happen in so long a time, that they must have 
 gone, a great part of them, from one to another, either 
 by inheritance, purchase, dowry, or the like, and there- 
 fore were possessed by the present incumbents, without 
 their having injured the rightful proprietors. Upon 
 these considerations he judged it necessary, both to 
 bear with the latter in the enjoyment of what they 
 had, yet to satisfy the former, whom it justly belonged 
 to. And finding a large sum of money was requisite 
 to settle his business as it ought to be, he told them he 
 had occasion to go to Alexandria 1 , and ordered they 
 should not concern themselves about it till his return. 
 He goes accordingly with all possible speed to his old 
 
 Clinias; his father being killed by the treachery of Abantidas, 
 he was forced to fly to Argos, at six years old. Afterwards, at 
 about the age of twenty, he took the city again by surprise, 
 made Nicocles the then tyrant fly, and settled peace and unity 
 amongst his citizens. His life is written by Plut. 
 
 r The capital city of Egypt, and seat of their kings, built by 
 Alexander the Great, in his return from visiting the temple of 
 Jupiter Ammon. 
 
 s 
 
194 TULLY'S 
 
 BOOK IJ e 
 
 friend Ptolemy % who at that time was reigning in 
 Alexandria, being the second king after the founding 
 of that city. Having told him his design of settling 
 liberty in his country, and the reasons that put him 
 upon undertaking that voyage, he quickly prevailed 
 upon that wealthy prince to supply him with a quan- 
 tity of money for his assistance. With this he imme- 
 diately returns to Sicyon, and choosing out fifteen of the 
 principal citizens, to help him with their counsel upon 
 this occasion, he heard both the causes of those who 
 possessed what had belonged to others, and of those 
 who had lost what had been formerly their own. At 
 last he so managed the whole business, as that, the 
 estates being set at their true values, some were persuaded 
 to part with what they had*, and take an equivalent 
 in money for it ; and others to neglect the recovery 
 of their own", and rest themselves content with being 
 paid its full value. By this means the controversy 
 was fairly determined, and all went home satisfied 
 without grudging or complaining. Here was a great 
 and extraordinary man now ! Here was one that 
 deserved to have been born in our Republic ! This is 
 the true way of dealing with citizens; and not (as 
 hath been practised amongst us twice x ) to make sale 
 of their goods in the public markets, and have them 
 cried by the voice of the common crier. — But this 
 famous Grecian, as was the duty of a wise and extraor- 
 dinary person, thought it became alike to provide for 
 all ; and indeed every magistrate, who proceeds upon 
 principles of reason and prudence, will always take care 
 not to make any difference between the interests of 
 his people 5 but will govern them all by the same rule 
 
 » Surnanied Philadelphia, the founder of the famous Alex- 
 andrian library. He was son of that Ptolemy, who was Alex- 
 ander the Great's captain, and who got Egypt to himself after 
 the death of that prince. 
 
 t Viz. Of the present incumbents, who possessed those lands, 
 which originally belonged to others. 
 
 u Viz. Of those who have been outed of their lands by the 
 tyrants. 
 
 x First under Sylla the dictator, and afterwards under Caesar, 
 
«hai\ xxiv. OFFICES. 195 
 
 and standard of justice and equity. Here is one man 
 shall dwell in what belongs to another ; what reason is 
 there I beseech you for this ; that when I have bought, 
 built, repaired, and laid out a great deal of money, 
 another should come and enjoy all the fruits of it, in 
 spite of my teeth? Is not this plainly to take away 
 from one that which justly belongs to him, and give 
 to another, what he has nothing of right to ? As to 
 the project of forgiving debts, I can see no reason in 
 the world for it, unless it be reason that another should 
 buy land with my money, aud that he should have the 
 land, but I never have my money. 
 
 CHAP. XXIV. 
 
 Care should be taken to prevent people's running too much 
 into debt. Faith the cement of public society. Cicero's 
 conduct in the Consulship about the matter of debts. 
 The duties of a good magistrate. How one's health 
 and estate are to be taken care of. 
 
 C/ARE ought therefore to be taken beforehand, which 
 it is easy to do by a great many ways, to keep people 
 from running so much into debt y , as may bring any 
 damage or inconvenience to the public : and not, when 
 they are in, to oblige the creditors to lose what is their 
 own, and let the debtors gain what in justice is an- 
 other's 5 for nothing so cements and holds together in 
 union all the parts of a society, as faith or credit; 
 which can never be kept up, unless men are under 
 some force and necessity of honestly paying what they 
 owe to one another. This design of having debtors 
 excused from payment, was never attempted with 
 
 r Since the design of making creditors forgive all debts, it 
 so very pernicious, &c. it is one great business of a good go- 
 vernor, to prevent people's running too much into debt ; whici* 
 may be done several ways. 
 
 S 2 
 
196 TULLYS 
 
 BOOK II. 
 
 greater eagerness than whilst I was consul z : men of 
 all ranks and degrees in the state took up arms and 
 formed camps for the bringing it about -, whose endea- 
 vours I resisted with so much vigour, as that the Re* 
 public was soon delivered from so pernicious an evil. 
 There never were known greater debts in the city, nor 
 ever more easily and faithfully paid; and pray what 
 was the reason of all this ? Why, because when their 
 hopes of defrauding were cut off, they found themselves 
 under a necessity of payment. It is true, there is one 
 who has since been a conqueror 8 , though then he was 
 conquered by my vigilance, that has found out means 
 to effect these designs b , at a time when they would 
 bring him no manner of advantage 3 but such an incli- 
 nation had that man to villainy, that the bare doing of 
 it was a pleasure to him, without any other invitation 
 in the world. The sum then of what has been said is 
 this, that such as design for the good of the Republic, 
 must be sure to avoid this sort of liberality, which 
 takes away from one that it gives to another ; and must 
 consequently make it their principal care to uphold 
 each member in his proper rights, according to the 
 principles of justice and equity $ so as neither to suffer 
 the poorer sort of people to be wronged or oppressed, 
 by reason of their poverty - 7 nor the richer to be hin- 
 dered from keeping or demanding what is justly their 
 own, by the envy of the others; and, in fine, must 
 apply their most earnest endeavours, whether in war or 
 peace, to increase the power, and enlarge the bounds 
 and revenues of the Republic, These are the duties 
 and exercises of great men : these are the things which 
 
 2 In the conspiracy of Catiline. See c. 22. book i. 
 
 a He means Caesar, who being" over head and ears in debt, 
 was suspected in Catiiine's time to favour his wicked designs 
 underhand ; and so may be said to have been conquered by 
 Cicero, when he ruined. Catiline. 
 
 b He made the creditors lose not all, but only a fourth part 
 of their due. 
 
 c Because he was then got free from debt by other ways ; 
 and so had no occasion to make use of this, upon his own ac- 
 count. 
 
chap. xxnr. OFFICES. 19T 
 
 were practised by our ancestors; and whoever goes on 
 to perform the same, will not only bring great advan- 
 tage to the Republic, but gain a mighty interest and 
 reputation to himself. In these rules of duty, relating 
 to things profitable 11 , Antipater c , the Tyrian, a Stoic 
 philosopher, who lately died at Athens, thinks that two 
 things have been omitted by Panaetius : first, the care 
 of getting and preserving one's health; and, secondly, 
 of an estate. I believe that great philosopher might 
 omit them on purpose, because they are so easy and 
 obvious to every one : however it is certain they are 
 both of them profitable. Now health is preserved 1 by 
 considering the peculiar temper of one's body, and 
 observing what agrees or does not agree with it; by 
 temperance and moderation in meats and drinks, and 
 other things relating to the welfare of the body, by 
 forbearance and abstinence as to the matter of pleasures j 
 and lastly, by the skill of physicians, and the like. An 
 estate should be gotten by nothing that is any ways 
 
 d He has now done with his first head proposed in this book, 
 viz. Whether an action he profitable or not ? In which, after hav- 
 ing shewn that men are able to bring the most profit to us, he 
 gives some directions about how we should engage men to 
 be of our side, and so do us all the service that lies in their 
 power. He should now proceed to the second head proposed 
 to be the subject of this book ; but because Antipater thought 
 the former not perfect, because two material things were omit- 
 ted in it, viz. the care of our health and estate ; he therefore 
 before he leaves this head, adds a word or two about each of 
 these. 
 
 • There were two or three Stoics of that name ; the one of 
 Tarsus, called Tarsensis, scholar to Diogenes Babylonius, and 
 master of Panaetius. He is mentioned c. 12. of the next book 
 Another about the same time, or, as others think, the same 
 man by another name, called Sidonius, a familiar acquaintance 
 of L. Crassus, an historian and poet, famous for making hexa- 
 meter verses extempore (see Cic. and Quintil.) of whom we 
 have several epigrams still extant in the Greek Anthologia. 
 He is said to have had a fever every year on his birthday, of 
 which at last he died. The third a Tyrian here mentioned, an 
 acquaintance of Cicero, and particularly familiar with Cate 
 Uticensis, whom he instructed in morality and politics, 
 
 1 How the health of the body is to be maintained, 
 63 
 
198 TULLY'S 
 
 BOOK II. 
 
 gcandaltfus or dishonest*; preserved by diligence and 
 prudent management ; and; lastly, by the same means 
 bettered and augmented. But this whole subject is 
 excellently handled by Xenouhon b the Socratic, in his 
 book of (Economics ; which I formerly translated 
 from the Greek into Latin, when much about as old 
 as you are at present. 
 
 CHAP. XXV. 
 
 The comparing of things profitable one with another. An 
 answer of Cato upon this head. Who are best able to 
 teach how to get estates. 
 
 JL HE fourth chief head we proposed to speak of was 
 the comparing things profitable one . with another 1 ; 
 which is oftentimes necessary, however neglected or 
 forgotten by Panaetius. For we use to compare either 
 the goods of the body with those of fortune ; or these 
 back again with those of the body; or, lastly, those 
 both of the one and the other amongst themselves. 
 First, the goods of the body are compared with those 
 of fortune, as, it is more eligible, suppose, to be healthy 
 than rich. Secondly, these back again with those of 
 the body, as, it is better to be rich, than of a robust 
 constitution. Thirdly, those of the body with one 
 another, as health is preferable to pleasure ; or strength 
 to activity. And, lastly, those of fortune with one 
 
 « Hovv an estate should be gotten, kept, &c. 
 
 h A famous Athenian, son of one Gryllus, and scholar of Socra- 
 tes; a valiant and wise captain, as well as an eminent philosopher 
 and historian. His works are most of them extant to this day : 
 the native simplicity, purity, and especially sweetness of which 
 have justly got him the name of the Athenian bee. The transla- 
 tion Cicero here mentions is lost, except some fragments. 
 
 4 He comes now to the second head to be treated on in this 
 book, viz. Of two that are profitable, which is most so ? Which 
 he but just touches upon, and shews that it was requisite to add 
 this head to the three of Panaetius, 
 
chap. xxv. OFFICES. 199 
 
 another, as if glory should be preferred before riches, 
 or an estate in the city, before another in the country. 
 To this latter sort of comparing may be referred that 
 answer of the Senior Cato's, who being once asked, 
 What he conceived most profitable in the management 
 of an estate? said. To feed cattle well. And what the 
 second ? To feed cattle pretty well. And what the 
 third? To feed cattle, though but ill. And what the 
 fourth ? To till the ground. And then the enquirer pro- 
 ceeding still to ask, Pray what do you think of letting 
 money out to usury ? Pray what do I think, replies 
 Cato, of killing a man ? From what has been said, and 
 a great deal more, that might easily be added, it is 
 sufficiently manifest, that profits are often compared 
 with one another; and that we had reason sufficient 
 on our side, in making this a fourth head for the rinding 
 out our duty. But as for the business of getting an 
 estate, and placing out money to the best advantage, 
 and I wish I might add of applying it to the best uses, 
 there are certain honest men k who attend at the Ex- 
 change, that can better inform you than any of the 
 philosophers that dispute in the schools. It is worth 
 while, however, to know these things, because they re- 
 late to the business of profit, which has made up the 
 subject of all this Book. Let us now pass on to what 
 remains behind. 
 
 k So he calk, by way of derision, the hankers, changers, &<:. 
 who frequented the Janus, a street in Rome of that name, very 
 noted and eminent for such sort of people. The upper part of 
 it was called Janus Summus, the middle Janus Medius, and the 
 lower Janus Imus. 
 
TULLY'S OFFICES. 
 
 BOOK III. 
 
 CHAP. I. 
 
 An excellent saying of the elder Scipio Africanus. Cicere 
 betakes himself to a life of leisure and retirement, the 
 Republic being quite ruined. The difference between 
 his retirement and Africanus 9 $. Some good to be drawn 
 out of evils. 
 
 C^ATO a , son Mark, who was near of the same age 
 with Publius Scipio, the first that had the surname of 
 Africanus b given him, tells us it was an usual saying 
 of his, that he was never less idle than when he was 
 idle ; nor ever less alone, than when he was alone. A 
 noble and excellent sentence indeed, and worthy of so 
 great and wise a person ; by which it appears, that in 
 the midst of leisure he could think of business, and 
 was used when alone to converse with his own thoughts: 
 so that he never was properly idle, and needed no 
 company to entertain him in his solitude. The two 
 things therefore, which bring a kind of dulness and 
 heaviness upon others, served but to sharpen and in- 
 vigorate his mind, viz. solitude and leisure. 1 wish I 
 
 ■ Whom he spake of in the last chapter of the former book. 
 
 b Because he beat Hannibal and the Carthaginians in Africa. 
 He was grandfather of the younger Africanus. The Roman 
 historians are full of his praises. 
 
chap. i. OFFICES. 201 
 
 could truly say the same of myself! But though 1 am 
 not able to arrive at that inimitable temper of soul, I 
 desire at least to come as near it as is possible ; and 
 being excluded by open violence and impious arms c , 
 from having ought to do with affairs of the senate, or 
 business of the bar, 1 wholly betake myself to a life of 
 retirement; and for that very reason have abandoned 
 the city, and am often alone, only going from one seat 
 to another in the country. But alas! my leisure is not 
 to be compared with that of Aft icanus, nor my solitude 
 with his solitude ! For he was employed at that very 
 time in places of the greatest reputation in the public; 
 and his leisure was only a voluntary retirement, to give 
 himself respite from business for a season $ and his 
 solitude only a kind of port or haven, into which he 
 withdrew himself from the disturbances of company. 
 Whereas my leisure proceeds not from any desire of 
 respite, but from a want of business to employ myself 
 about 5 for what proper work can I find to do, when 
 there is no more a senate, nor any courts of justice d 
 remaining entire', in which I might honourably shew 
 myself: therefore, whereas it was my former custom to 
 appear much in public, and in the eye of my citizens; 
 I now on the contrary hide myself from them, to avoid 
 the very sight of such packs of villains as are every 
 where abroad : and as much as is possible confine myself 
 to solitude. But since this is given us for a rule by the 
 learned, that when several evils are threatening us at 
 once, we should not only choose to undergo the least, 
 but extract some advantage out of them, if it be possi- 
 ble; I therefore in the midst of all these present mis- 
 fortunes, gain the small advantage of quiet and retire- 
 ment, (though not such a quiet as he might have ex- 
 pected, whose wisdom had formerly procured the peace 
 
 c Those of Caesar first ; but after his death, of Mark Anthony 
 and his adherents. 
 
 a The two places in which he before used to shew himself. 
 « Because all things were acted by violence and force of arms* 
 
$02 TULLYS book in. 
 
 of the public',) and endeavour not wholly to languish 
 out that solitude, which not choice, but necessity has 
 laid upon me. Though Africanus indeed, I myself 
 must confess, has got much greater glory by his soli- 
 tude and retirement : for none of his thoughts are com- 
 mitted to writing, nor any monuments remain of what 
 he did in his leisure, and when he was alone ; whereby 
 we are given to understand, that he never was idle, nor 
 ever properly alone ; because he was always employed" 
 in meditation, and his mind was busy in searching out 
 those things, which by thinking he made himself master 
 of. But I, who have not got such a strength of genius 
 as to be content when alone with the company of my 
 bare thoughts, am forced to apply all my studies and 
 endeavours to the drudgery of writing : 1 have written 
 more therefore within a very short time, since the ruin 
 of the state, than I did for some years, while it was in 
 its flourishing condition. 
 
 CHAP. II. 
 
 The subject of duties the most useful part of all philosophy* 
 An exhortation to his son to be dilige?it in his studies. 
 The subject of this third book. Pancetius neglected to 
 treat of it, though he did at first design it. A saying 
 of Rutilius Rufus. 
 
 J\ OW though all philosophy, my dear Cicero, be rich, 
 as it were, and a plentiful soil, which has not any part 
 of it waste and uncultivated yet there is no part that 
 is more fruitful in it, or from which more advantage 
 accrues to the husbandman, than that which is em- 
 ployed about offices or duties ; from whence those pre- 
 cepts and directions are drawn, which lead toward a 
 Steady and virtuous way of living. Wherefore, though 
 
 f By freeing it from Catiline's conspiracy. See c. $2, 
 book i. 
 
chap. ii. OFFICES. 203 
 
 1 doubt not but that Cratippus, the greatest philosopher 
 of our age, is daily inculcating these things to you, and 
 you are receiving them with that attention they deserve; 
 yet 1 have thought it not wholly unnecessary to remind 
 you myself, of so important a matter, and could wish 
 that your ears might continually ring, as it were, with 
 such precepts, and not hear (as far as possible) any 
 thing else. And as this is a method which is useful for 
 all men, who design to lead virtuous and creditable 
 lives; so for no one living, perhaps, more than yourself. 
 For consider you are the son of an industrious father, 
 one who has borne the greatest honours in the Republic, 
 and has gotten himself some credit and reputation in the 
 world ; people therefore will expect that you should 
 follow my steps, and it is your part to see that you 
 answer their expectation. Beside, it is no small thing 
 you have taken upon you, by being at Athens, and 
 under the great Cratippus ; whither since you are gone, 
 as it were, to a staple and mart of good literature, it 
 will be scandalous for you to return again empty, and 
 bring a reproach both upon the place and your master. 
 Wherefore, dear son, be industrious and diligent, and 
 spare no manner of pains and labour (if I may call it 
 a labour, and not rather a pleasure, to study and learn) 
 that you may make a good use of these advantages 
 before you \ and when all things are thus plentifully 
 supplied on my part, let it never be said, that you 
 yourself are wanting to your own greatest interest. But 
 I shall say no more upon this at present, having hereto- 
 fore written again and again to you, by way of exhort- 
 ation. Let us now proceed to the fifth and last part of 
 our proposed division. Pansetius then?, who without 
 all controversy, has written most accurately upon the 
 subject of duties, and whom in this work, with a little 
 
 * After this discourse and advice to his son, he comes now 
 to his subject, of comparing profit and honesty. But tells us 
 first, that Panaetius, though he proposed, yet did not discourse 
 upon this third head : shews he designed to have done it, and is 
 large in explaining the sense it is to betaken in. 
 
£G4 TULLY'S book m. 
 
 alteration, I have hitherto followed, lays down (as was 
 said) three general heads, which men use in consulting 
 or deliberating concerning their duty : in the first it is 
 questioned, whether the action they are going about 
 be honest or dishonest. In the second, whether it be 
 profitable or unprofitable. In the third, how a good 
 man ought to determine the case, if that which seems 
 honest should come into competition with that which 
 seems profitable. Of the two former heads he has given 
 us an account in his three first books, and therein has 
 promised to go on with the third of them $ but has 
 failed, it should seem, of being so good as his word. 
 Which I wonder at the more upon this account, be- 
 cause we are told by his scholar Possidonius, that he 
 lived thirty years after those books were published. And 
 I cannot but admire at the same Possidonius, that 
 having an occasion, in some of his writings, to discourse 
 upon tins argument, he should do no more than just 
 touch upon it in short j especially seeing he himself 
 has observed, that in all philosophy there is no one 
 subject more necessary and important. Some indeed 
 think, whom I cannot agree with, that Panaetius did 
 not forget this part, but omitted it on purpose ; and 
 that in plain truth it ought to be omitted, since profit 
 can never be really contrary to honesty : whether it 
 ought to be omitted or not, may perhaps be a question ; 
 but whether Panaetius first designed it or no, and yet 
 afterwards neglected it, I think can be none: for a 
 writer certainly, that proposes three heads, and goes 
 through with but two of them, must needs design to 
 discourse upon the third; nay, he tells us himself in 
 the close of his third book, that he would afterwards 
 proceed to this remaining part. Besides^ we have the 
 authority of Possidonius to vouch it, who in one of his 
 letters has given us a saying of Rutilius Rufus, who 
 was scholar to Panaetius as well as himself; that a3 
 never any painter had been yet so bold as to venture 
 upon finishing that piece of Venus, which Apelles** 
 
 h One of the most famous painters that ever was, of the 
 
ch\p. in. OFFICII. 205 
 
 left imperfect at the island Cos ; (the beauty of the face 
 making all men despair, ever to paint a body that 
 should be answerable to it;) so the excellency of that 
 which PanaUius had written upon this subject, made 
 others afraid of attempting; to add that which he had 
 omitted. 
 
 CHAP. III. 
 
 Whether Pancetius did welt in making this third head. 
 Reasons why he did not. The danger of separating profit 
 from honesty. What the Stoics mean by living according 
 to nature. Two sorts of virtue, the perfect and ordinary. 
 The former belongs to the wise only ; tlie latter is common 
 to all. The most perfect virtue (as it is counted by the 
 multitude) is really imperfect. 
 
 JL HAT Pansetius therefore did think he was obliged 
 to discourse upon this part, is beyond all question 1 : but 
 whether he was mistaken in his judgment or not, when 
 he laid down his head, as the third of deliberating for 
 the finding out our duty, may perhaps be disputed. 
 For whether, according to the opinion of the Stoics, 
 we take virtue or honesty to be the only goodk; or, 
 according to that of the Peripatetics, acknowledge it 
 so to be the chiefest good, as that all things else are just 
 as nothing against it $ it is certain, upon either of these 
 
 island Cos in the jEgean sea, therefore by Ovid called Artifex 
 Cous. He is often mentioned by Greek and Latin writers, and 
 particularly for an admirable piece of Venus rising* out of the 
 sea. He began a second, which is here mentioned, but did not 
 live to finish it. 
 
 i Having shewn from reason, and the authority of Possi- 
 donius, that Panaetius designed to have written upon this head ; 
 he now proceeds to enquire, whether he ought to have done it, 
 or not ? 
 
 k The reasons why Panaetius should not have brought in this 
 enquiry : first, honesty is the only, or at least much the greatest 
 good ; therefore profit should not be made to oppose it 5 nothing 
 being comparable to the greatest good. 
 
 T 
 
206 TULLY'S book in, 
 
 suppositions, that profit cannot be put in balance against 
 honesty. We are therefore told, that Socrates used even 
 to curse those people, who disjoined these things in 
 thought and conception, which are one and the same 
 in nature and reality. And the Stoics » are so far of 
 his opinion, as constantly to maintain, that whatever 
 is honest must be also profitable, and whatever is 
 profitable must be also honest. It is true, had 
 Pansetius been one of those, who assert that virtue is 
 therefore only desirable, because it brings something 
 of profit along with it ; like some m , who think nothing 
 any further worth seeking for, than as it begets pleasure, 
 or exemption from pain 5 we could then have allowed 
 him the liberty of saying, that profit is sometimes re- 
 pugnant to honesty. But seeing he was one n who 
 thought nothing to be good except that which is 
 honest, and avows, that whatever is contrary to honesty, 
 and appears to us under the notion of profit, can neither, 
 if we have it, make life ever the better -, nor, if we have 
 it not, ever the worse 5 he should not, methinks, have 
 brought in such a deliberation, wherein that, which 
 seems profitable, comes into competition with that, which 
 is honest. For that, which the Stoics* call their sove- 
 reign good (to live in conformity with the dictates of 
 nature) means, I suppose, no more than this, that we 
 should always live agreeable to the rules of virtue 3 and 
 should use other things, which are suited and adapted 
 to our natural inclinations, no further than virtue per- 
 mits and allows them. Now this being so, there are 
 several of opinion, that this general head, wherein profit 
 
 1 Secondly, the Stoics, of whom Panaetius was one, hold that 
 profit and honesty are really the same thing; therefore he 
 should not have brought in this head, wherein they are set in 
 opposition to each other. 
 
 m Epicurus and his disciples ; and also Hieronymus Rhodius, 
 whom our author often mentions in his works. He lived about 
 the 440th year of Rome, and had been scholar to Aristotle. 
 
 « Viz. Of the sect of the Stoics. 
 
 • Thirdly, the Stoics make the whole happiness of man to 
 consist in living conformably to the rules of honesty ; therefore 
 profit should never have been brought in opposition to it. 
 
chap. in. OFFICES. 207 
 
 and honesty are compared with one another, was im- 
 properly brought in -, and that there ought not to have 
 been given any rules or directions upon this subject. 
 Now your perfect honesty p , which is truly and properly 
 called by that name, is only to be found in your per- 
 fectly wise men, and can never be possibly separated 
 from virtue: but those men, who have not this perfect 
 wisdom, must by no means pretend to such a perfect 
 honesty, though they may have some shadows and re- 
 semblances of it. For all those duties, of which we 
 are treating in these books, have the name of middle 
 ones given them by the Stoics, which are common in- 
 differently to all men in general, and are not confined 
 to any particular number of them. But several get 
 them, either by the peculiar happiness of their natures, 
 or by a constant progress in study and learning; 
 whereas those others, which they call right ones, are 
 perfect and consummate, or (as they themselves express 
 it) have all their numbers, which none can attain to, 
 but the perfectly wise. It is true, that the vulgar, as 
 soon as they see any action of such a nature, as indeed 
 is no more than a middle kind of duty, are immediately 
 thinking it a perfect and complete one : for the com- 
 mon sort of people cannot tell what is perfect, and by 
 consequence do not know how much any virtue or ex- 
 cellency comes short of it q : but finding it answer the 
 
 P To what has been objected it might have been replied, that 
 there is a double sort of honesty ; the one perfect, and belong- 
 ing to none but a perfectly wise man ; the other middle, and 
 which ordinary men are capable of: that profit ought never to 
 be opposed to the former, but perhaps to the latter imperfect 
 one it might. Here he gives a large account of this division of 
 honesty, [see c. iii. book i.] and shews that the second, or 
 middle sort of honesty, ought no more to be parted with for the 
 sake of any profit, than the first or consummate one. 
 
 i Men judge of the perfection or imperfection of any thing, 
 according as it comes up to, or falls short of, their ideas. He, 
 whose idea is short and imperfect, will think a very mean piece 
 of work to be excellent, because he has no notion of any thing 
 that is more so : but an artist will judge it (as it really is) 
 ardiuary, because his conceptions are more refined and ex- 
 
 ?2 
 
S08 TOLLY'S book in. 
 
 highest of their conceptions, they imagine it wants 
 nothing of being as perfect as can be. Just as it 
 happens in judging of poems or pieces of painting, 
 and other such like ; those who are not judges, are 
 generally pleased with and praise those things, which 
 by no means deserve any praise or commendation : 
 because, I suppose, there may be something that is 
 good in them, which serves well enough to take with 
 those that are ignorant, and who have not so much skill 
 as to be able to discover their several imperfections : 
 and therefore, when they are instructed by those who 
 understand it better, they are brought without difficulty 
 to forsake their opinions. 
 
 CHAP. IV. 
 
 The greatest men that have been in the ivorld, were not 
 perfectly wise. Profit ought not to be compared with 
 the middle, any more than with the perfect honesty. 
 How men come to compare them together, or to doubt 
 upon this subject. This illustrated by an example. 
 One certain rule necessary for our guidance in this 
 case. The doctrine of the Stoics preferable to that 
 of the Peripatetics. 
 
 THOSE duties therefore, which make up the subject 
 of this enquiry, by the Stoics are counted a kind of 
 second-rate honesty, which is not confined to their wise 
 men only, but is common and open to all mankind : 
 and therefore all those who have any kind of sense of 
 inclination for virtue, are very sensibly touched and 
 affected with it. For you are not to imagine, when we 
 
 quisite. This is the reason why the vulgar imagine the imperfect 
 virtues to be perfect and complete ; because they fully answer 
 their idea of perfection, which is but a half and inadequate 
 one. It ought to be read here propter ea quod, in the Latin \ and 
 not propter eaqye 9 as Grsevius has it. 
 
chap. iv. OFFICES. 309 
 
 call the two Decii r or Scipio9 s magnanimous, and give 
 Fabricius' and Aristides" the appellation of Just, that 
 we set them for patterns of such justice and magnani- 
 mity, as we suppose to be in those who are perfectly 
 wise . For they were none of them wise in that exalted 
 sense, which we would here be understood to mean by 
 that word. Nay those who were counted and sumamed 
 tke Wise, such as Cato, for instance, and Laelius, and 
 particularly the famous Seven" ; yet in truth and reality 
 were not such ; but by frequently practising that middle 
 sort of duties, had gotten a sort of shew and re- 
 semblance of true wisdom. As no profit therefore 
 ought ever to be put in opposition to that which is truly 
 and perfectly virtuous and honest; so neither should 
 any interest, or convenience of life, be set up against 
 that, which is ordinarily called so, and which is fol- 
 lowed by those, who desire to be counted men of 
 honesty and integrity : and we should be as careful to 
 live up to that honesty, whereof we are capable; as 
 the perfectly wise are of keeping close to that, which 
 
 r Two famous Romans, father and son, who both in the time 
 of their consulships devoted themselves freely for the good of 
 their country : the father in the war with the Latins, about the 
 year of Rome 412; and the son in that with the Samnites, 
 about forty years after. See the form of it, Liv. book viii. c. 9# 
 book x. c. 29. 
 
 » The two Africani, mentioned before. 
 
 * A noble and valiant consul of Rome, general in the war 
 against Pyrrhus and the Samnites : so strictly just and honest, 
 that though both Pyrrhus and the Samnites offered him presents, 
 he refused to accept them ; and yet so poor, that when he died, 
 he did not leave enough behind him for his funeral; and his 
 daughters had portions paid out of the public treasury. See c. 22, 
 
 u Such another at Athens, as Fabricius was at Rome. The- 
 mistocles being his rival in the state, got him banished by 
 Ostracism : [see his Life in Plut. and Nepos.] But Xerxes 
 afterwards invading Greece, they were glad to recal him again 
 to defend his country, which he did very valiantly : at last, 
 after having borne the greatest offices in the Republic, he died 
 as poor as Fabricius did, and portions were given to hig 
 daughters by the public. 
 
 * The seven wise men of Greece, so much talked of among 
 the ancients. 
 
 t3 
 
210 TOLLY'S 
 
 BOOK III. 
 
 is truly such, and may in strictness of speech be called 
 by that name. For whatever attainments we have 
 made in virtue, they will never stand us in any mighty 
 stead, if we be not thus careful of holding constantly 
 
 to our duty. ^What has hitherto been said can 
 
 be applied to those only, who make goodness consist in 
 living according to their duty: but those men y , who 
 measure the goodness of things by some profit 2 or ad- 
 vantage, which they bring along with them, and who 
 let these prevail with them above virtue and honesty ; 
 frequently in deliberating, use to put that, which they 
 take to be profitable, into the balance against justice 
 and honesty; but good and wise men never offer to do 
 it. I am therefore of opinion, when Pansetius* tells 
 us, that men use to deliberate, in considering which of 
 these two they should choose ; that he meant no more 
 than what his words strictly signify, viz. that they use 
 to do this, and not that really they ought to do it. For 
 it is infinitely scandalous, not only to prefer a pretended 
 advantage before duty and conscience $ but so much 
 as to bring them to the contest and competition, and 
 to doubt whether the one of them should be chosen 
 before the other. If this be so, you will be ready to 
 ask me, How then comes there to be any doubt at all ? 
 And what is it that requires consideration upon this 
 subject ? I suppose it is this, that it sometimes happens 
 men are not so very certain, w ; hether the action delibe- 
 rated upon be honest or not honest b ; for that which 
 
 y Viz. The followers of Epicurus and Hieronymus Rhodius. 
 
 * It is to be remembered, that under the notion of the word 
 profit, he comprehends pleasures, honours, &e. 
 
 a Having brought all the arguments urged against Panaetius, 
 for proposing this head, he now shews that they have all mis- 
 taken his meaning ; for that he does not say profit may be op- 
 posed to honesty, but only that men ordinarily use to oppose 
 it ; and explains what is the true meaning of this head, and 
 how. people come to deliberate upon it. 
 
 b The subject therefore of this book is not, when a plain duty 
 seems opposite to our worldly interest, viz. riches, pleasure, or 
 the like, to deliberate which of those two we should follow, our 
 pleasure (suppose) or our duty; the very deliberating in such 
 
chap. iv. OIUCKS. 211 
 
 is usually counted a piece of villainy, is frequently 
 changed by the times or < i remittances, and is found 
 to be the contrary. To lay down one instance, which 
 niav serve to give some light to a great many others; 
 pray what greater wickedness can there be upon earth 
 (if we speak in general) than for any one to murder, 
 not only a man, but a familiar friend? And shall 
 we therefore affirm that he is chargeable with a 
 crime, who has murdered a tyrant, though he were 
 his familiar? The people of Rome c I am sure will 
 not say so, by whom this is counted amongst the 
 greatest and most glorious actions in the world. You 
 will say then, does not interest here carry it against 
 honesty? No d , but rather honesty voluntarily follows 
 interest. If therefore we would, upon all emergencies, 
 be sure to determine ourselves aright, when that which 
 we call our advantage or interest, seems to be repugnant 
 to that which is honest e 5 we must lay down some ge- 
 
 a ease being impious, as he often says. But the design of the 
 book is, when an action on the one hand is apparently for our 
 worldly advantage; and on the other is somewhat doubtful; 
 whether consistent with our duty or not ; then to teach us how 
 to determine ourselves so, as that a seeming interest may not 
 betray us into that, which is opposite to our real one, i. e. our 
 duty and honesty. He gives one instance of killing a tyrant, 
 which may easily be applied to a ; <:reat many other dubious 
 cases; in giving directions about which he continues to c. vii. 
 where he begins again his former discourse. See the latter 
 eaji of c. vi. 
 
 c The Romans thought no duties so great, as those that re- 
 garded the maintenance of their liberty; for the sake of which 
 they would break through all other obligations whatever. Nay 
 there was a law among them, that he who killed a tyrant 
 should not be questioned for it. 
 
 d That is, A tyrant is not therefore to be killed because it is 
 a profitable action, though contrary to honesty : but because it 
 is an honest, as well as a profitable one. For what can be more 
 honest or agreeable to nature, than by taking off one man to 
 preserve a whole community. 
 
 • Having shewn what is the subject of deliberation in this 
 book, his next business is to lay down some method of deter- 
 mining ourselves aright. In order to which he proposes a gene- 
 ral rule and standard, which is always to be made use of in 
 •uch occasions of doubt* 
 
212 TULLY'S book hi, 
 
 neral rule or measure, which if we will make use of in 
 judging about things, we shall never be mistaken as to 
 point of duty. Now this measure I would have to be 
 conformable to the doctrine and principles of the 
 Stoics, which I principally follow throughout this work. 
 For though I confess that the ancient Academics and 
 your Peripatetics, which were formerly the same, make 
 honesty far preferable to that which seems one's in- 
 terest 1 : yet those who assert*, that whatever is honest 
 must be also profitable, and nothing is profitable but 
 what is honest, talk much more bravely and heroically 
 upon this subject, than those who allow h , that there are 
 some things honest, which are not profitable ; and 
 some things profitable, which are not honest. And we 
 have very great liberty given us by our academy, so as 
 never to be tied up to such and such tenets, but are 
 left free to defend what we think most probable. 
 
 CHAP. V. 
 The rule or measure mentioned in the former chapter. 
 The ill effects of men injuring others for their own 
 advantage. Every one allowed to take care of himself 
 in the first place; hut not so as to injure any other, 
 though to save his own life. Two errors that occasion 
 men's acting contrariwise, and the absurdity of them. 
 
 1>UT to return to our general rule or measure: there 
 is nothing upon earth then so contrary to nature 1 , 
 
 f See c. i, book I. 
 s Viz. The Stoics. 
 
 * Viz. The Peripatetics and ancient Academics. 
 
 * For nothing being so agreeable to nature as conjunction 
 and society, that which tends to the ruin and dissolution of this, 
 must needs be of all things most contrary to nature. Now the 
 very end and design of society is the mutual help and assist- 
 ance of each other, without which it is impossible it should ever 
 subsist; ita naturalis est societatis utilitatum communio (says 
 the learned Grotius) ut sine ea nequeat societas consistere* Those 
 men therefore, who, instead of profiting, injure their fellows, 
 do what directly tends to the ruin of society, and consequently 
 what of all things is most contrary to nature. 
 
hap. v. OFFICES. 213 
 
 neither death, nor poverty, nor pain, nor whatever other 
 evil can befal a man, either in his body or fortune, as 
 to take away any thing wrongfully from another, 
 and do one's self a kindness by injuring one's neigh- 
 bour. For, in the iirst place, it ruins all manner of 
 society and intercourse amongst men ; since it is plain, 
 that if once men arrive at such a pass, as to plunder 
 and injure the rest of their neighbours, out of hopes to 
 procure some advantage to themselves, there must fol- 
 low of course a dissolution of that society, which of all 
 things in the world is most agreeable to nature. Should 
 we suppose, for example, that the bodily members had 
 every one of them gotten an opinion, that to draw to 
 itself all the vigour of its neighbours, would very much 
 serve to increase its own; it is certain the whole body 
 must decay and perish : and just so, should every one 
 amongst us deprive other people of their profits and 
 advantages, and take away all he could get from them, 
 with design of applying it only to his own use ; the 
 general society and fellowship of mankind must of 
 necessity be broken. For though it is no more than what 
 nature will allow of, that each man should look after 
 himself in the first place, and furnish himself with the 
 necessaries of life, before he takes care to provide for 
 other people; yet the same nature will by no means 
 permit, that any one should rise by his thrusting down 
 another, and increase his own fortune by the spoils of 
 his neighbours. And not only nature, that is the uni- 
 versal law or consent of nations, but particular laws, by 
 which several countries and com mon wealths are go- 
 verned, have commanded likewise, that no one be suf- 
 fered to do an injury to another, for the sake of pro- 
 curing any advantage to himself. For the very design 
 and end of laws is to keep up agreement and union 
 amongst citizens ; which whoever destroys, is by them 
 punished, not with the loss of his goods alone, but with 
 prisons, banishment, or even death itself. But nature 
 and right reason, as being at once both an human and 
 divine law too k , command this duty with much greater 
 k Human, because consented to and acknowledged by all 
 
$14 TULLYS book in, 
 
 authority ; and whoever obeys them (as all men must, 
 who propose to live according to the rules of nature) 
 will never be guilty of coveting what is another's, or 
 applying to his own use what had first been injuriously 
 taken from his neighbour. For certainly greatness and 
 elevation of soul -, as also the virtues of courtesy, justice, 
 and liberality, are much more agreeable to nature and 
 right reason, than pleasure, than riches, than even life 
 itself 5 to despise all which, and regard them as just 
 nothing, when they come to be compared with the 
 public interest, is the duty of a brave and exalted spirit : 
 whereas to rob another for one's own advantage, is (as 
 has been shewn) more contrary to nature than death, 
 than pain, or any other evil whatever of that kind. 
 Again, those men live much more according to nature, 
 who suffer perpetual troubles and labours for the good 
 and preservation, were it possible, of all men; (like 
 Hercules of old, whom men, as a grateful requital for 
 his benefits, report to be placed among the number of 
 the gods 5) than those who consume all their lives in re- 
 tirement, where they are not only free from disturbances 
 and vexations, but are furnished with all the pleasures 
 and conveniences of life; and have moreover the ad- 
 vantages of strength and cdmeliness superadded to 
 them. And accordingly we find it to be so in effect, 
 that all the most great and extraordinary geniusses have 
 preferred all the troubles and difficulties of the former, 
 before the quiet and ease of this latter way of living. 
 From all which laid together, it unanswerably follows, 
 that whoever lives agreeably to the dictates of nature, 
 can never be guilty of injuring another. In fine, he 
 that injures another to do himself a kindness, either 
 thinks he does nothing that is contrary to nature^ or 
 
 mankind, and natural to them: divine, because whatever right 
 reason commands us, God himself, who has given us that reason, 
 does in effect command us too. 
 
 1 Having laid down his general rule or measure, and proved 
 the truth of it from reason, laws, and the examples of the 
 greatest men : he now shews the absurdity of the two contrary 
 principles, which are the grounds or causes of men's injuring 
 one another, viz, either they think it is «ot contrary to nature* 
 
chap. vi. offices, ais 
 
 that the doing an injury is a less degree of evil, than 
 death, or poverty, or pain, or loss or' children, friends 
 or relations. If he thinks that in wronging and abus- 
 ing of others, he doll) not do any thing that is contrary 
 to nature; it is in vain to dispute any longer with such 
 a one, who takes away from man the distinguishing 
 part, and very characteristic (as it were) of his nature : 
 but if he allows, that it is indeed an evil, only thinks 
 that some others, such as poverty, pain, or death, may 
 be worse, he is grossly mistaken in being of opinion, 
 that the ills which touch nothing but the body or for- 
 tune, can be greater than those which affect the soul. 
 
 CHAP. VI. 
 
 The interest of particulars inseparable from that of the 
 whole community. The rule of not wronging another 
 for our own advantage, extends not only to relations, 
 or fellow -citizens, but to all mankind. The breaking 
 of it, ruins all justice, liberality, 8$c. Several cases 
 about it, put and resolved. Tyrants no members of 
 human society. 
 
 WE should all of us therefore propose the same end, 
 and every one think his own interest in particular, to 
 be the same with that of the community in general" 1 : 
 which if each one endeavour to draw solely to himself, 
 all union and agreement amongst men will be dis- 
 solved. And if nature enjoin us, that every man should 
 desire and procure the advantage of another 11 , whoever 
 
 m This is a conclusion from the foregoing" discourse; seeing 
 for one man to injure another is so very pernicious to human 
 society ; it follows, that no one should do any thing for his own 
 interest, as distinct from that of the whole community. 
 
 n To what he has proved in the former chapter, that the in- 
 juring of others for our own advantage is the ruin of society, 
 und consequently most unnatural, it might have been answered, 
 that this holds good only as to lesser societies, and in respect of 
 our kin, &c. but as for those who are of a different tribe or 
 country, we are under no such obligation* of not injuring them. 
 He therefore here shews in answer to this, the extent of this ob- 
 
216 TULLY'S book hi. 
 
 he be, though for no other reason than because he is a 
 man ; it necessarily follows, that all men are joined, by 
 the self-same nature, in one common interest : which if 
 it be true, then all men are subject to, and live equally 
 under, the same law of nature : and if this be true too, 
 then certainly they are forbid by that same law of 
 nature, any ways to injure or wrong one another ; but 
 the first of these is undoubtedly certain, therefore the 
 last must needs be so likewise. For as to what is usually 
 said by some men, that they would not take any thing 
 away from a father, or brother, for their own advan- 
 tage 5 but that there is not the same reason for their 
 ordinary citizens; it is foolish and absurd: for they 
 thrust themselves out from partaking of any privileges, 
 and from joining in common with the rest of their 
 citizens, for the public good : an opinion that strikes at 
 the very root and foundation of all civil societies. 
 Others there are, who are ready to confess, that they 
 ought to bear such a regard to fellow-citizens $ but by 
 no means allow of it in relation to strangers : now these 
 men destroy that universal society of all mankind 5 
 which if once taken away, kindness, liberality, justice, 
 and humanity, must utterly perish 5 which excellent 
 virtues whoever makes void, is chargeable with impiety 
 towards the immortal gods ° : for he breaks that society, 
 which they have established and settled amongst men 5 
 the closest cement or bond of which, is the being of 
 opinion, that for men to injure and wrong one another 
 for their private interests, is an evil that nature is much 
 more averse from, than all those which happen either to 
 the body or fortune 5 nay, and I might add to the mind 
 also, provided only they be not contrary to justice p 5 
 
 ligation ; and proves that it is not confined to those of the same 
 family, city, or the like, but equally comprehends all mankind ; 
 forasmuch as all are alike subject to the same law of nature, &c. 
 
 For though the offence more immediately concerns the 
 persons that are injured, yet it is also a sin against God him- 
 self; since it is a breach of his laws and commands, 
 
 p That is, to take away any thing from another, which is an 
 act of injustice, is not only a greater evil than any of body or 
 
chap. vi. OFFK :\ :i? 
 
 queen of all the rest. But what ? (perhaps some men 
 will be apt to say,) if a wise man be ready to perish for 
 hunger, must not lie take away victuals from another, 
 though a perfectly useless and insignificant fellow ? Not 
 at all, for life itself is not so dear to me, as a settled 
 resolution of doing no wrong for my private advantage. 
 But suppose this good man, almost dead with cold, should 
 have it in his power to take Phalaris's clothes away, 
 one of the most savage and inhuman tyrants; would 
 not you have him to do it ? There is no great difficulty 
 in determining such cases : for it is certain, if you take 
 away any thing from another, though never so useless 
 and insignificant a creature, for no other end but to 
 benefit yourself by it ; it is an inhuman action, and 
 plainly contrary to the laws of nature: but if you are 
 one, who by living will do very great service to the 
 Republic, or perhaps to the society of mankind in 
 general, and for that only reason take something from 
 another 5 it is an action that is not to be found much 
 fault with. But. in all other cases, every man is bound 
 to bear his own misfortunes, rather than to get quit of 
 them by wronging his neighbour. You will say then, 
 Is it not more contrary to nature, to covet or seize what 
 belongs to another, than to be in sickness, or want, or 
 any such evil? Yes; but withal it is as contrary to 
 nature, to abandon all care of the public interest; for 
 it is a piece of injustice : from whence it follows q , that 
 an honest, prudent, and valiant person, whose death 
 would bring a great disadvantage to the public, may 
 
 fortune, hut of mind too, (i. e. than any other vice,) except only 
 those, which are offences against justice as well as itself. 
 
 *t It is true the laws of nature, or right reason, forbid men 
 to take away ought from another, for their own advantage ; for 
 it would be the ruin and dissolution of society, which they 
 especially desire to maintain : but if it should at any time 
 chance so to happen, that the doing of a damage to any third 
 person, should be necessary to the support and maintenance of 
 that society, then the doing it is not only allowed, but com- 
 manded by the law of nature. 
 
 U 
 
218 TULLY'S book m. 
 
 take from an idle and useless citizen, such things as 
 are necessary for the maintenance of life, withour any 
 offence against the laws of nature ; which aim at the 
 preservation and interest of the public; provided that 
 he do not make the love of himself, and conceit of his 
 own more than ordinary merits, an occasion of injur- 
 ing and oppressing others. For he will perform but 
 the duties which justice requires of him, by thus taking 
 care to be serviceable to the public, and upholding that 
 (which I am often forced to mention) universal society 
 between all mankind. As for the question proposed 
 about Phalaris, it is easily answered : for tyrants are 
 not members of human society, but rather its greatest 
 and most pestilent enemies ; nor is it unnatural, if it 
 lie in one's power to rob that man, whom it is even a 
 virtue and a glory to murder. And it were heartily to 
 be wished, that this whole destructive and impious 
 race, were utterly banished and excluded from amongst 
 men. Just as we cut off those members of the body, 
 which have got no longer either blood or spirits in them, 
 and serve but to infect and corrupt the rest ; so should 
 those monsters, which, under the shape and outside of 
 men, conceal all the savageness and cruelty of beasts, 
 be cut off as it were and separated from the body and 
 society of mankind. Of much the same nature are all 
 those questions, in which the knowledge and under- 
 standing of our duty depends upon the knowledge of 
 times and circumstances p . 
 
 * These words shew what has been the drift and design of his 
 discourse from c. 4. [see note a, p. 210.] viz. To shew how we 
 should determine ourselves in those particular cases, where the 
 knowledge of our duty depends so much upon times and cir- 
 cumstances ; as in the instance there given of murdering a 
 tyrant, though a familiar friend. He now takes again the thread 
 of his discourse. 
 
chap. vii. OFFICES. 219 
 
 CHAP. VII. 
 
 Cicero will finish what Pancetius left imperfect. All his 
 decisions taken from this principle, that honesty alone , 
 or at least chiefly , is desirable for its own sake. The 
 true meaning of Pancetius, in making profit and honesty 
 be compared with one another. 
 
 I BELIEVE then Pansetius would have discoursed upon 
 such things as these, but that some accident, or perhaps 
 other business, put a stop to his designs. However, 
 there are precepts enough laid down in his former 
 books, to resolve all scruples and doubts concerning 
 them ; from which we may learn what that is which is 
 wicked, and therefore to be avoided -, and what that, 
 which therefore is not to be avoided, because not at such 
 times, and in such cases wicked. But since I am going 
 (as it were) to crown a work", which was left imperfect 
 by the author of it, though wanting but little of being 
 brought to perfection 5 I shall follow the method of the 
 geometricians : and as they do not use to demonstrate 
 every thing, but demand to have some things allowed 
 them beforehand, by the help of which they more 
 easily explain and demonstrate their designs ; so I de- 
 mand of you, son Mark, if you can, to grant me this 
 following postulatum, that nothing is desirable for itself 
 alone, but that which is honest; or however, if Cra- 
 tippus* will not permit you to do that; yet at least, I 
 am sure, you must grant me this which follows, that 
 honesty is desirable for its own sake, above all things in 
 the world : either of the two is sufficient for my pur- 
 pose, and the one is probable as well as the other, and 
 
 • He means Panaetius's works about duties, which, as before 
 was observed, he left imperfect : and Cicero in this book designs 
 to add, what Panaetius either would not, or for some reasons 
 could not finish. 
 
 * For being a Peripatetic, he could only allow that which 
 immediately follows, that honesty is much the most desirable 
 good ; not that it is the only one, which was the Stoic 
 opinion- 
 
 u2 
 
no TULLY'S book hi. 
 
 nothing else beside them is so upon this subject". And 
 here in the first place we must do right to Pansetius; 
 who does not say, as indeed he ought not, that that 
 which is profitable, could ever be contrary to that which 
 is honest ; but only that which has the appearance of 
 such. And he often avows, that nothing is profitable, 
 but that which is honest; and, that whatever is honest, 
 is at the same time profitable : and declares their opi- 
 nio^ who first made a difference between those two, to 
 be the greatest evil that ever yet spread itself abroad 
 amongst men. Therefore, when he speaks of a con- 
 trariety between them, he means an appearing, and not 
 a real one ; which he therefore laid down for one of the 
 heads of his discourse : not as though it were lawful 
 for men ever to give profit the preference before 
 honesty j but only that they might be able to determine 
 themselves aright, if these two at any time should seem 
 to interfere and be inconsistent with one another. This 
 part therefore, which he has omitted, I shall now sup- 
 ply; not with any borrowed assistance from others, but 
 purely (as we say) by my own strength. For I never 
 had any thing come to my hands upon this subject> 
 that I could any ways approve of since the time of 
 Panaetius. 
 
 CHAP. VIII. 
 
 What we ought to do, when any thing presents itself under 
 the appearance of profit. Proof that whatever is pro- 
 fitable, must also be honest; and whatever is honest, 
 must also be profitable. The contrary opinion the great 
 source of all wickedness. Infamy a certain punishment 
 of villainy. It is a wickedness even to deliberate whether 
 profit should be preferred before honesty, or not. No- 
 thing is to be done out of hopes of being concealed. 
 
 ^WHENEVER therefore any thing comes in our 
 
 H Viz. Nor the opinions of Epicurus, Hieronymus Rhodius, &c» 
 
chap. vin. OFFICES. Kl 
 
 view, which carries the appearance of profit* along 
 with it, we cannot but immediately be somewhat af- 
 fected with it : but if, upon taking a nearer view, w r e 
 rind there is any thing base and dishonest, in that which 
 appeared to be profitable at first, it is our duty to reject 
 it : which is not to deprive us of what is really 
 profitable, but only to let us understand, that nothing 
 dishonest can possibly be such. Now if nothing be so 
 contrary to nature as baseness », and nothing so agree- 
 able to nature as true profit, (which is certainly so ; for 
 she always desires what is right and becoming, and 
 consistent with itself, and abhors the contrary,) then it 
 necessarily follows, that whatever is profitable can never 
 have any baseness or dishonesty annexed to it. Again, 
 if we were born for virtue or honesty 2 , and this be the 
 only desirable good, as Zeno a would have it, or at least 
 so much more so, than every thing else, as to outweigh 
 all that can be put in the scale against it, which was 
 Aristotle's opinion; it must certainly follow, that ho- 
 nesty is the only, or however the greatest good : now 
 whatever is good must certainly be profitable; from 
 
 x Having laid down his postulatum, that honesty is the only, 
 or at least the chief good : he proceeds now to draw some con- 
 clusions from it ; as first, that however a thing may carry the 
 appearance of profit along with it, yet it is to be rejected if it 
 have any dishonesty in it : because it would deprive us of our 
 virtue and honesty, which is our greatest, if not sole good ; and 
 consequently however it may bring us riches, pleasures, &c. 
 must be really unprofitable. For it is impossible there should 
 be any profit, where the loss is honesty. 
 
 y He shews that, whatever is truly profitable must be honest 
 also ^ since profit and dishonesty (being one of them contrary, 
 and the other agreeable to nature) can never meet both in the 
 same action : and therefore in rejecting pleasures, riches, or 
 kingdoms, &c. when accompanied with dishonesty, we do not 
 reject what is really our interest, but only that which appears 
 to be so. 
 
 1 Having shewn that, whatever is profitable must also be 
 honest ; he here shews back again, that whatever is honest must 
 also be profitable; upon which two propositions all this book 
 is grounded. 
 
 * Founder of the Stoic sect ; surnamed Citteius, from Cittium, 
 a. town in Cvprus, where he was born. 
 v3 
 
Sfli TULLY'S book in. 
 
 whence it follows, that whatever is honest must also 
 certainly be profitable. It is a villanous error of some 
 naughty men therefore, when any thing strikes them 
 with an appearance of profit, to seize it immediately 
 and enjoy it as such, without ever considering its re- 
 lation to honesty. Hence come assassinations, poison- 
 ings, and making of false wills : hence stealing, embez- 
 zling the public monies, plundering and oppressing 
 both citizens and confederates : hence the insufferable 
 power and insolence which some men exercise, who are 
 grown too great for the rest of their citizens : in fine, 
 hence ambition, and the desire of rule, have produced 
 their most cursed and deplorable effects, even in free 
 commonwealths 5 than which nothing can be thought 
 of more odious and detestable. For men look upon the 
 fancied advantages of things through a false perspec^ 
 tive; but as for the punishment appendant to them, (I 
 do not mean of the laws which they frequently break 
 through ; but of baseness and dishonesty, which is much 
 the more'grievous,) that, I say, they never so much as 
 think upon at all. Such people therefore are impious 
 and abominable, and deserve to be excluded from all 
 society, who deliberate with themselves, and make it 
 matter of doubt, whether they should choose what they 
 see to be honest, or wilfully commit what they know to 
 be villany. For the very making a question of such 
 a thing is criminal, though one should not proceed so 
 far as to execution. Those things therefore ought not 
 to be deliberated at all upon, where the very delibera- 
 tion is scandalous and dishonest. And whenever we 
 do deliberate upon any kind of subject^ we should 
 never do any thing out of hope, and expectations, that 
 our actions will be concealed : for we ought to take this 
 
 b He now proceeds to a second conclusion, drawn from his 
 general principle laid down, which is, never to venture upon 
 any thing that is ill, out of hopes of being concealed : for if 
 dishonesty be of itself the greatest evil, it is not the being 
 concealed that can make it otherwise. This he illustrates by an 
 excellent fable, taken out of the second book uf Plato de Repub, 
 toward the beginning. 
 
ix. OFFICES. 223 
 
 as a constant maxim, if we pretend to have made any 
 progress in philosophy, that though we could hide from 
 the eyes of all men, and even of the gods themselves, 
 whatever we go about ; yet we should be careful to ab- 
 stain from the vices of covetousness and injustice, of 
 la-civiousness and incontinency. 
 
 CHAP. (IX. 
 
 He illustrates his rule laid down in the former chapter 
 with the story of Gyges, taken out of Plato. He shews 
 himself a villain, who acknowledges lie would do 
 wickedly, if he could with secrecy. 
 
 J O this purpose Plato brings in that remarkable story 
 of Gyges c . A gaping in the earth being made by 
 reason of some violent showers, as the story tells us, 
 Gyges went down into the hollow of it, and found there 
 lying a brazen horse, with a door in his side. This he 
 opened, and looking in, discovered a dead man's body, 
 of an unusual bulk, with a ring of gold upon one of 
 his fingers. This he pulls off, and puts upon his own 
 finger; and then coming up, goes and joins himself to 
 the rest of the shepherds, (for he was shepherd to the 
 king at that time ) Here he observed, that upon 
 turning the stone toward the palm of his hand, he be- 
 came invisible to every body else, though others did not 
 become so to him; and that upon turning it to its 
 proper place, he immediately became visible again, as 
 before. Making use therefore of this lucky opportunity, 
 he found out a way to enjoy the queen, and by her as- 
 
 c He was a friend and favourite to Candaules, king of Lydia, 
 who having* an extraordinary beautiful wife, was continually 
 bragging of her, and would needs have Gyges look upon her 
 naked. At which the queen was so provoked, as that she per- 
 suaded Gyges to murder Candaules ; which he did, and obtained 
 both his wife and kingdom after him. His performing this with 
 very great ease by the wife's assistance, gave Plato occasion to 
 invent this fable. 
 
224 TULLY'S book ut. 
 
 sistance to murder the king, his lord and master, and 
 to make away those who might prove any hindrance 
 or stop to his designs ; nor could any one possibly see 
 or discover him in any of these villanies; so that he 
 quickly, by the help of this ring, from a simple shep- 
 herd became king of Lydia. Now had a truly wise 
 man had the keeping of this ring, he would not have 
 thought himself ever the more privileged to be guilty 
 of any action that is wicked or detestable: for good 
 men desire to be virtuous and honest, and not to be 
 secret, that so they may sin without danger. And 
 here some philosophers, men of more honesty than 
 acuteness or subtilty, cry out, that this story of 
 Plato's is a mere fiction : as though he had said either 
 that it really was, or indeed could be done. No 5 the 
 meaning and design of this example of Gyges and the 
 ring, is this : Suppose you could do any dishonest 
 action, for the gratifying a lustful, covetous, or am- 
 bitious desire, so as that no one living could either 
 know or suspect it, but both gods and men must be 
 kept perfectly in ignorance; whether in such case 
 would you do it or no? Aye, but, say they, this is an 
 impossible case: though it is not so impossible neither: 
 but that which 1 ask them is, what they would do, 
 supposing that possible, which they deny now to be 
 so ? The manner of their arguing is somewhat odd 
 and illiterate ; for they still deny the possibility of 
 it, and that they will stand to \ not, it seems, under- 
 standing what the force and true import of this sup- 
 position is. For when we put the question to them, 
 whether they would do such an action or not, suppos- 
 ing they could conceal it; we do not ask them, whether 
 they can conceal it or not? but put them, as it were, 
 to the rack or inquisition ; that so, if they say they 
 would gratify such desires upon assurance of impunity, 
 we may know them to be villains by their own con- 
 fession 5 but if they deny it, they may be forced to 
 grant, that every base and dishonest action is barely 
 as such to be shunned and detested. But to return 
 to our purpose from which we have digressed, 
 
«HAi. OFFICES. 
 
 CHAP. X. 
 
 tend cases, wherein men doubt whether that which ap- 
 pears to be profitable be not honest. The case of Br vi- 
 ta* banishing Collatinus; of Romulus murdering his 
 brother litmus. Men may do what is for their own 
 advantage, provided they do no injury to another. An 
 rhg of ( hrysippus to thai purpose. How 
 far a man may honestly, and ought to go upon a 
 friend's account; illustrated by the example of Damon 
 and Pinthias, two loving friends. 
 
 J HERE frequently happen a great many cases which 
 disturb men's minds d , and put them into suspense, 
 by the shew of some profit which they seem to contain 
 in them. Not when men deliberate, whether they 
 should leave and abandon their honesty for the sake of 
 any profit, be it never so great, (for that is a piece 
 of wickedness,) as was before observed; but, whether 
 that action which appears to be profitable, may not 
 safely be done without transgressing against honesty. 
 It might not seem honest in Brutus % for example, to 
 
 6 He has shewn in the two last chapters, that when an action 
 is certainly dishonest, it is impious to deliberate whether we 
 shall do it, or not ; or to hope for secrecy, that so we might 
 do it without danger; whatever seeming" profit, such as king- 
 doms, &e. it may bring along' with it. He now proceeds to de- 
 termine some cases, wherein it is doubted whether the action 
 be honest, or not. As first, the desire of honour, empire, &e. 
 is apt to blind people's eyes, and either make them in suspense 
 about the justice of an action, as in the case of Brutus; or 
 even act plainly contrary to justice and conscience, as Romulus 
 did. 
 
 e The fir-t consul of Rome, after the expulsion of king 
 Tarquinius Superhus. L. Tarquinius Collatinus was his col- 
 league, who had been husband to Lucretia, and assisting to 
 Brutus in expelling the Ling. However Collatinus, upon the 
 Lte's commanding: it, was deprived of his consulship, and 
 lied the city by Brutus, only because he was of the name 
 family of Tarquinius Superbus. See Livy and Plutarch** 
 
£26 TULLY'S book hi. 
 
 depose Collatinus his brother consul from his office, 
 whose wisdom and conduct he himself had made use 
 of in expelling the kings. But since the chief men in 
 the government had so ordered, that the kindred of 
 Superbus f , and very name of the Tarquins, should be 
 banished the city, and no marks or footsteps be suf- 
 fered to remain of monarchical government $ it was 
 not only profitable thus to consult for the safety of his 
 country, but so honest too, as that Collatinus himself 
 ought joyfully to have acquiesced in it. That which 
 was profitable therefore v prevailed, because it was 
 honest withal $ which had it not been, it could never 
 have been profitable. I cannot say the same in rela- 
 tion to that king 8 , by whom this city was first founded : 
 for a bare shew of profit got the better over him, when 
 he imbrued his hands in the blood of his own brother, 
 because it seemed more profitable to reign by himself, 
 than in conjunction with another: he broke all the ties 
 both of brotherly affection and common humanity, for 
 the obtaining of an end which appeared to be profit- 
 able, and yet really was not so. He pretended how- 
 ever, for a shew of honesty, that it was done to re- 
 venge an affront of his brother's, who leaped with con- 
 tempt over his new-raised wall ; a frivolous excuse, 
 and, if true, not sufficient to serve his turn : by his 
 favour, therefore, whether Quirinus or Romulus h , I 
 cannot but think he did a very ill action. Not that 
 men are bound to be careless of their own interests, or 
 
 f The last king of the Romans, so called for his pride and 
 haughtiness. He was expelled his kingdom hy Brutus, &c. and 
 
 last died in exile. 
 
 fc Romulus the founder of Rome. The historians generally 
 tell us, that as he was building the walls of his city, his brother 
 Remus (who himself was founding a city just by) came to see 
 his work ; and leaping with scorn and contempt over his new 
 wall, was murdered by Romulus for that affront. But Cicero, 
 it seems, thought there was something more in it, viz. that he 
 might reign alone. 
 
 h A name given by the Romans to Romulus, after he wag 
 supposed to be taken up into heaven, and enrolled in the num- 
 ber of the gods. 
 
chap. x. OFFICES. 227 
 
 to part with that to others which themselves stand in 
 need of; but every one may do what he thinks for his 
 own advantage, provided it be no injury or prejudice 
 to another person. Chrysippus', amongst a great 
 many very good sayings, has this one in particular : 
 tf He that is running a race ought to strive and en- 
 u deavour, says he, as much as he is able, to get before 
 " his antagonist 5 but must not trip his heels up, or 
 u thrust him aside with his hands : so in life it is 
 <c allowable, that every one should get what is useful 
 " and convenient for his comfortable subsistence, but 
 " it is not so to take it away from other people." 
 But it is no where more difficult to keep to one's duty, 
 than in the affair of friendship k ; for as not to do every 
 thing that one handsomely can for the sake of a friend ; 
 so to do any thing that is base or dishonest, are both 
 of them equally contrary to one's duty. But there is 
 one very short and yet easy rule, which may serve to 
 direct us in all cases of this nature j and it is this, 
 never to prefer that which only seems profitable, such 
 as honours, riches, pleasure, and the like, before a 
 kindness to a friend ; but never to do any thing for the 
 sake of a friend that is an injury to the public, or a 
 breach of one's oath, or other solemn engagement : 
 for whoever does this, it is impossible he should ever 
 be a good man. Should such a one therefore be judge 
 in his friend's case, he would not by any means be 
 biassed in his favour, but would wholly lay aside the 
 
 * A Stoic philosopher, one of the chief upholders of that 
 sect, scholar of Cleanthes, so famous for logic as that it was 
 usually said, " If the gods were to make use of logic, it 
 would be that of Chrysippus." Cicero often quotes him, and 
 says, he was a man of a sharp wit, and very curious in all 
 history. He left seven hundred volumes, of which three 
 hundred were logic, behind him, which are all lost. The 
 Athenians had so great a value for him, as that they put up 
 his statue in a place of their city called Ceranicus. 
 
 k As people may sometimes be drawn to do wickedly for the 
 sake of honour, reigning alone, &c. so may they also for the 
 sake of a friend : concerning which he gives one short and ex- 
 cellent rule ; " Never to prefer," &c. 
 
228 TULLY'S book hi. 
 
 person of a friend, as soon as he took upon him that 
 of a judge. Perhaps he might do so much for friend- 
 ship sake, as to wish that his friend may have the juster 
 cause 5 and allow him as long time to speak for him- 
 self as the laws 1 will permit of : but when he is to 
 give in his sentence upon oath 1 ", he will then remem- 
 ber that he calls God to witness, that is, I conceive, 
 his own soul and conscience 11 , the divinest thing that 
 God has granted to man. It is a good custom there- 
 fore we have' received from our ancestors, if we did 
 but observe it, of desiring the judge to be as favourable 
 to us as his oath will permit him. The meaning of 
 which request is no more than this, that he would do 
 so much for us, as I just now said might very honestly 
 be done by a judge for his friend. Foi\ if men were 
 obliged to do every thing presently that their friends 
 should desire of them ; such agreements as these ought 
 to be counted not friendships, but dangerous con* 
 spiracies. I speak here only of the ordinary sort of 
 friendships 5 for in those which are found between 
 perfectly wise men , there can be no danger of any 
 such thing. Damon and Pinthias p , two of Pythagoras's 
 followers, were so closely united to one another in 
 their affections, that when Dionysius the Sicilian tyrant 
 had appointed a time wherein one of them should 
 die, and the party condemned had begged a few days 
 respite, wherein he might provide for his children and 
 
 1 For there was a law amongst the Romans, allowing the 
 plaintiff but so many hours to speak in; and the defendant 
 one more. 
 
 m For the judges among the Romans were sworn always to 
 judge impartially. 
 
 n For the soul or conscience, according to the ancierits, is 
 nothing but a kind of god in us, and the voice of one is in- 
 deed the voice of the other. Hence Plato called all wicked 
 men aSsoi atheists, for acting in opposition to their reason and 
 conscience, that is, to the God dwelling within them. 
 
 Because men of perfect wisdom will never desire any 
 thing, but what is honest and reasonable, one of another. 
 
 p A famous pair of friends, and often mentioned as such by 
 ancient writers. See Valer. Max. Plutarch, 8fc. and our author'* 
 2 r uscul. QucesL 1. v. c. 22. 
 
xi. OFFICES. 9fl9 
 
 family, and recommend them to somebody who would 
 take eare of thorn after his death ; the other delivered 
 himself up in his stead, voluntarily to die in the room 
 of his friend, if he did not accordingly make his appear- 
 ance. The prisoner came back at the day appointed, 
 in order to his execution ; which the tyrant perceiving, 
 was so greatly amazed at their extraordinary faithful- 
 ness, as to desire he might be admitted a third man in 
 their friendship. In friendship therefore, when that 
 which seems profitable comes into competition with that 
 which is honest, the latter should always be preferred 
 before the former : but faith and religion should be 
 preferred before friendship, whenever it demands any 
 thing that is not reconcileable with virtue and honesty. 
 Which one rule, if but carefully attended to, is sufficient 
 for the purpose we are now upon ; which is to discover 
 upon every occasion, what are those duties which 
 friendship requires of us. 
 
 CHAP. XI. 
 
 In the management of the public affairs, the appearance 
 of profit makes men relinquish honesty. Several exam- 
 ples of it. Examples of the contrary, when the appear- 
 ance of profit is rejected for the sake of honesty. 
 
 X HE appearance of profit is also an occasion in pub- 
 lic affairs q , of making false steps, and doing several 
 things that are contrary to duty. Thus our fathers, 
 for instance, did ill in destroying and rasing of Corinth. 
 The Athenians yet worse in making an order, that 
 the people of zEgina should all have their thumbs cut 
 off, because they were powerful at sea. This, no 
 
 v Having shewn how far the love of empire, friendship, &c. 
 draws particular men from their duty; he now goes to shevr^ 
 how whole republics have been drawn to what is ill, by the 
 appearance of some pretended profit. 
 
 x 
 
§30 TULLYS book in. 
 
 question, was thought a profitable decree -, foriEgina* 
 seemed to threaten their port Piraeum, by reason of 
 its nearness ; but nothing can truly be profitable that 
 is cruel ; for the nature of man, which we ought to 
 follow as the guide of our actions, of all things in the 
 world is most opposite to cruelty. Those do ill like- 
 wise, who banish all strangers, and forbid them the 
 city) as Pennus* did in the preceding age, and Papius* 
 but lately. For though it is but fair, that he who is 
 no citizen should not have the privileges of those who 
 are, (which was made into a law u by two very wise 
 consuls, viz. Crassus and Scaevola;) yet wholly to 
 exclude them from having any thing to do there, is 
 plainly against the dictates and laws of humanity *. 
 And as these things are bad in the government of a 
 State, so nothing is more splendid and glorious on the 
 other hand, than for that, which appears to be the 
 interest of the public, to be rejected in the comparison 
 with justice and honesty. Our own commonwealth 
 can abundantly supply us with examples? of this 
 nature, as on other occasions, so more especially in 
 the second Punic war 3 when, after the loss of that 
 fatal day at Cannae, it shewed more courage and 
 bravery of resolution, than ever it had done upon the 
 
 * A little island in the Sinus Saronicus, almost over-against 
 the Piraeum, a port of Athens, somewhat distant from the city, 
 but joined to it by a mighty wall, built by Themistocles. 
 
 * M. Junius Pennus, a tribune of the people about the year 
 of Rome 657. It is quoted by some under the name of Lex 
 Petronia. 
 
 * C. Papius, tribune of the people An. U. C 688, two years 
 before Cicero was consul. 
 
 n In the year of Rome 658, called Lex Lucinia et Mucia. 
 See note on c. xvii. of this book. 
 
 x This is true, provided those strangers live peaceably under 
 the government, and no ways prejudice or endanger the state ; 
 for then to let them live there is a thing innoxiae utilitatis : 
 otherwise there are several cases, wherein it is allowable to 
 expel strangers from a city. 
 
 y Some examples of the contrary practice of those that 
 would not suffer a seeming advantage to make them do any 
 thing contrary to their duty. 
 
chap, xi. OFFICES. 331 
 
 greatest successes. There was not any sign of faint- 
 heartedness seen, nor ever any mention of peace once 
 heard of: so great is the glory and brightness of 
 honesty, as that it utterly overwhelms the appearance 
 of interest. The Athenians 1 knowing they should 
 never be able to resist the Persians, resolved by consent 
 to abandon their city, and carrying their wives and 
 their children to Trazene*, to defend by sea the liberties 
 of Greece : and when one Cyrsilus tried to persuade 
 them not to leave their city, but receive Xerxes into it, 
 they took him and stoned him: not but that the man 
 would have drawn them to a thing which was seemingly 
 profitable ; but that seeming profit was really none 
 at all, being contrary to honesty. Themistocles, after 
 that notable victory in the Persian war b , told all the 
 people in a general assembly, that he had thought 
 upon a thing which might prove of great use and ad- 
 vantage to the public, but which it was not convenient 
 that every body should know of: whereupon he de- 
 sired they would appoint him some person to whom 
 he might safely communicate it in secret. Aristides 
 was immediately appointed accordingly: Themistocles 
 told him, it would be no hard matter to fire in private 
 the Spartan fleet, which was laid up at Gytheums 
 whereby the whole power of that Republic must neces- 
 sarily be ruined. Aristides, as soon as he knew the 
 business, went back into the assembly, (which was 
 big with expectation of what he had to say,) and let 
 them all know, that Themistocles's counsel indeed was 
 advantageous, but by no means honest or creditable 
 for the city. The Athenians therefore, thinking what 
 was dishonest not to be truly profitable, rejected im- 
 mediately the whole proposal, without having heard so 
 much as what it was, upon nothing else but this report 
 of Aristides. How much better and more honestly 
 
 z See Plutarch's life of Themistocleg. 
 * A city of Peloponnesus, in alliance with the Athenians. 
 b At the island Salamis, mentioned c. 18. book i. 
 c A port of the Lacedaemonians, where their fleet was laid 
 up after the famous battle at Salamis. 
 
 x2 
 
*38 TULLY'S book iis, 
 
 did they do than we, who can suffer even pirates to live 
 free from molestation, and yet demand tribute of our 
 confederates and allies d ? 
 
 CHAP. XII. 
 
 The opinion that a thing may be profitable, though it is not 
 honest, very pernicious. A case put, wherein it is doubted, 
 whether that which seems to be profitable, be honest or 
 no ? The arguments on either side, of two philosophers 
 differing in their opinion. The difference between to 
 conceal, and not to tell. The society of mankind, how 
 far it obliges. 
 
 _LiET us lay down this therefore as a standing maxim, 
 that whatever is dishonest can never be profitable; no, 
 not though we should arrive at the full possession of all 
 those advantages which we proposed to obtain by it. 
 Nay, this very persuasion, that a thing may be pro- 
 fitable, though it is base and dishonest, is one of the 
 greatest misfortunes and calamities that could ever 
 have happened to the life of man. But there often. 
 fall out, as was before observed, some peculiar cases % 
 wherein that which is honest has a seeming repugnance 
 with that which is profitable; so that it requires some 
 farther consideration to know whether this repugnance 
 be certain and real, or whether they may not be 
 brought to a fair agreement. To this head belong 
 such examples as these : suppose we, for instance, an 
 honest merchant, when corn was scarce and extremely 
 dear at Rhodes, to bring a large quantity thither from 
 
 d It is probable he means those of Marseilles, and king" 
 Deiotarus ; whom Caesar either deprived of their liberty, or 
 made pay great sums of money, for taking part with Pompey 
 in the civil war. 
 
 • He now proposes several particular cases, wherein the 
 philosophers themselves dispute § whether profit and honesty 
 be opposite or not. 
 
CHAr. xii. OFFICES. 233 
 
 Alexandria ; and withal to know, that a great many 
 ships, well laden with corn were on their way thither 
 from the same city : should he tell this now to the 
 people of Rhodes, or say nothing of it, hut sell his 
 own corn at the best rates he could ? We suppose 
 him a virtuous and honest man, and do not here dis- 
 course of the deliberation of one, that would hold his 
 peace if he thought it were dishonest; but of one 
 that doubts whether it be dishonest or not. In such 
 sort of cases Diogenes f the Babylonian, a man of 
 great credit and note among the Stoics, is of one 
 opinion ; and Antipater his scholar, an extraordinary 
 smart and ingenious man, of just the contrary. Anti- 
 pater would have every thing be plainly told, that so 
 the buyer might be ignorant of nothing in what he 
 buys,, that the seller himself knows of : Diogenes thinks 
 it enough in the seller to tell the faults of his goods 
 as far as the laws require it ; and as for the rest, though 
 to use no cozening, yet since he is come with design 
 to sell them, to get as much money for them as ever 
 he can. Here, may the merchant say, I have brought 
 my corn ; I have exposed it to sale ; and sell it no dearer 
 than other people do, (nay perhaps he will say 
 cheaper, there being now a greater quantity than 
 there was before;) and pray where is now the wrong I 
 have done to any body? Antipater argues upon a 
 different principle : What say you, (quoth he,) are not 
 you obliged to do good to mankind ? and be service- 
 able to the society of all men in general g ? Were not 
 you born under such an obligation ? And had not you 
 such principles ingrafted into you by nature, which 
 
 f Scholar of Zeno the Zidonian, horn at Seleucia a town 
 near Babylon, and thence called the Babylonian. He was a 
 wise politician as well as a philosopher : and was sent by the 
 Athenians, together with Critolaus and Carneades, to manage 
 their business with the Roman senate. Here he got acquainted 
 with Africanus the elder, the wise Laelius, &c. who were 
 all delighted to hear his lectures. See Cic, de Orat. book 
 ii. c. 37. 
 
 i See book i. c. 7> 9. book ii i - c. 5 ; 6, 
 x3 
 
S34 TULLY'S iook in. 
 
 it is always your duty to follow and obey, that your 
 single interest should be. the same with that of all 
 men ; and again, that of all men should be the same 
 with yours? And will you, this notwithstanding, 
 conceal from the people what plenty there is coming, 
 the knowledge of which might be of so great use and 
 advantage to them? Diogenes perhaps will reply 
 upon him thus : It is one thing to conceal, and another 
 not to tell : nor can^ I be said to conceal from you 
 now, though I do not tell you, what the nature and 
 essence of the gods is, and what the happiness or chief 
 good of men ; things which it would do one much 
 more kindness to know, than that corn will be cheaper, 
 because great quantities are like to be here shortly. 
 But if any thing be profitable for you to hear, it is 
 none of my duty to come and tell it you immediately. 
 Nay, but you will find that it is your duty, (may the 
 other reply,) if you will please but to remember, that 
 there is such a kind of thing as a mutual relation and 
 society amongst all men. Well, I do remember it, 
 (may the other reply again ;) but> I pray you, is that 
 society of such a nature, as that no man who lives in 
 it. must have any thing that is his own ? If this be so, 
 then there is no more selling, but we must even give 
 ©very thing away that we have. 
 
 CHAP. XIII. 
 
 Another case put, whether he that setts a bad house, be 
 obliged to tell the purchaser it is so ? The arguments 
 pro and con of Antipater and Diogenes. Cicero's 
 determination of it, as also of that in the foregoing 
 chapter, what it is proper to conceal, 
 
 YOU plainly perceive, that it is never once said in 
 all this dispute, though such a thing is not honest, yet 
 I will do it because it is profitable : but the one side 
 
chap. xiii. OFFICES. 235 
 
 defends the expediency of it h , no farther than it is 
 honest; and the other denies that it ought to be done*, 
 because it is not honest. Again, suppose an honest 
 man were to sell an house, because of some defects 
 which he himself knows of, though others do not: 
 suppose it to be unhealthful, for example, but esteemed 
 quite the contrary; serpents to annoy all the chambers 
 of it, but nobody to know this; made of bad ma- 
 terials, and ready to fall, but no one to discern this,, 
 except the owner only : I demand, if he sells this for 
 more than he expected, and do not tell the buyer of 
 these several faults, whether he do not act like a knave 
 and a villain? Yes undoubtedly, answers Antipater: 
 for what is this better, than not to set a man right 
 when he is out of his way, (which at Athens was 
 punished with public execrations k ,) thus to suffer the 
 buyer, as it were, to farl headlong, and run through 
 a mistake into very great mischiefs. Nay, it is some- 
 thing worse yet, than not to shew a man his way ; for 
 it is wilfully and designedly to draw him into mischief. 
 Diogenes on the contrary vindicates the seller ; pray 
 did he force you, says he, to buy his house, when he 
 did not so much as advise you to it ? He set a thing 
 to sale which he did not like; and here you have 
 bought a thing which you did like. For if those men 
 who make it be published to the world, here is a very 
 good house, and very well built, to be sold, are not 
 counted deceivers, though the house be not good, nor 
 at all well built; how much less should those be 
 counted so, who do not commend their house at all? 
 For wherever the buyer has the free use of his judg- 
 ment, what fraud can there be upon the seller's part I 
 And if a man is not bound to make good all he said i, 
 
 h Diogenes. 
 
 • Antipater. 
 
 k A kind of curse or excommunication proclaimed solemnly 
 by the priests. See Plat, and Corn. Nep. Life of Aleibiades. 
 
 1 When, for example, he causes it to be published, here is- 
 a very good house to be sold ; he is not bound to answer for 
 its goodness, if it should prove otherwise* 
 
£36 TULLY'S book m. 
 
 would you have him make good what he did not say? 
 Beside, what, I beseech you, could be more odd and 
 foolish, than for the seller to tell the faults of his own 
 wares ? Or what more ridiculous, than for the crier to 
 proclaim by the proprietor's order, an infectious and 
 pestilential house to be sold ? And thus you see there 
 are some doubtful cases, in which on the one hand men 
 argue for honesty, and on the other are advocates for 
 profit; so far as to shew, that it is not only honest to 
 do that which is profitable, but even dishonest to neglect 
 and omit it: and this is that seeming opposition we 
 spoke of, which often falls out between profit and ho- 
 nesty. But let us now proceed to determine these 
 cases m 5 for we did not propose them for mere question's 
 sake, but that we might give them a fair decision. I am 
 then of opinion, that the corn-merchant ought not to 
 have concealed from the Rhodians, nor this seller of his 
 house from the purchasers of it, the several things that 
 are mentioned in their cases. It is true not to tell a 
 thing, is not properly to conceal it ; but not to tell that, 
 which people are concerned to know, merely for the 
 sake of some advantage to yourself, I think is: and 
 there is nobody but knows what kind of concealing 
 this is, arid who they are that make a custom of it : I 
 am sure not your plain, sincere, ingenuous, honest, and 
 good sort of people; but rather your shifting, sly, 
 cunning, deceitful, roguish, crafty, foxish, juggling 
 kind of fellows. And must it not necessarily be un- 
 profitable for any man to lie xmder this, and a much 
 longer catalogue, of such black and most odious names 
 of vices ? 
 
 ** Having proposed these two cases, he now proceeds to the 
 decision of them ; and thinks the two were bound to tell all to 
 the purchasers, because such concealing is a shifting, sly, de- 
 ceitful; &c. and by consequence an unprofitable trick. 
 
MAP. xiv. OFFICES. 237 
 
 CHAP. XIV. 
 
 Of those, who are so far from telling the faults of the 
 wares, as that they invent lies to make them appear 
 the better. An example of this kind. Aquilius's de- 
 finition of knavery, or dolus malus. 
 
 AND if those men are thus blameable", who keep the 
 faults of their things secret 5 what shall we think of 
 those, who add downright lying to it ? C. Canius, a 
 Roman knight, one that loved to be pleasant, and a 
 pretty good scholar, removing to Syracuse » for the sake 
 of retirement and not of employment, (as he was used 
 to say,) gave out he had a great mind to buy some 
 gardens, whither he might invite his friends and ac- 
 quaintance, and enjoy their conversation without being 
 interrupted. This coming abroad, there was one Py- 
 thius, a goldsmith or banker at Syracuse, who told him, 
 indeed he had no gardens to sell, but such as he had 
 were at Canius's service, (if he pleased to make use of 
 them,) as much as though they were his own : and 
 withal he desired him to come the next day, and take 
 a dinner with Him there. When Caniu3 had promised 
 him to come accordingly, what does he do but send 
 immediately for some fishermen, (having interest 
 enough, by reason of his calling, with all sorts of 
 people,) and desires them the next day to fish before his 
 gardens: giving them their instructions about what he 
 would have them do. Canius came at the time ap- 
 pointed, and Pythius had provided a very splendid en- 
 tertainment for him. Just before the garden, where he 
 could not but take notice of it, was a company of fish- 
 ing boats ; and every one of the men in particular 
 
 « Having shewn that those who conceal are to blame ; he 
 proceeds to those who invent plain lies for the sake of a little 
 seeming advantage ; who must needs be much more faulty. 
 
 • The chief city of the island Sicily, a very pleasant and 
 delightful place ; taken by the Romans under the conduct of 
 Mureellus, in the second Punic war. 
 
338 TULLY'S book hi, 
 
 brought the fish he had caught, and laid them down 
 before Pythius. How now, Pythius ! (says Canius to 
 him ;) what ! all these fish here ? All these boats ? O 
 lack, Sir, (says the other,) that is no great wonder; all 
 the fish that supply the city must be taken here : this 
 is their common water; none of these people could 
 ever live, if it were not for my house. Canius imme- 
 diately was all on fire, and begged of Pythius that he 
 would sell him the place. He pretended abundance of 
 unwillingness at first; but at length, to make short of 
 it, was brought to a compliance. Canius buys it, toge- 
 ther with all that belonged to it, and being very rich 
 and desirous of the purchase, gives as much for it as 
 Pythius demanded. Security is given and taken for 
 the money, and the whole bargain finally brought to a 
 conclusion. The next day Canius invites some ac- 
 quaintance thither, and he comes himself somewhat 
 earlier than ordinary; but sees not one of the fisher- 
 men's boats there. Hereupon he enquires of one of 
 the next neighbours, whether or no that were any 
 holiday with the fishermen ; because he saw none of 
 them thereabouts. Not that I know of, replies the 
 other ; but they none of them ever use to fish here, and 
 therefore 1 wondered what the matter was yesterday. 
 This put Canius into a lamentable fret; but how could 
 he help himself? For AquiliusP, my colleague and 
 familiar friend, had not then published his court-forms 
 about knavery ; upon which when he was asked, what 
 he meant by the word knavery } he answered, the 
 making shew of one thing, while one is doing another q ; 
 
 9 A noble and learned Roman, oftentimes mentioned and 
 commended by our author, whose colleague he was in the prae- 
 torship. He was excellently skilled in the civil law, which he 
 learned of Muc. Scsevola, the high-priest. There was no action 
 against a man, it seems, for this sort of knavery before his 
 time. The occasion of his making these formula, see in Valer* 
 Max* book via. c. 2. 
 
 q These words must be taken in an ill sense : for all making 
 sfcew, Sec. is not knavery, but only that which is joined cut% 
 Malitia, with an ill design of cheating, &c. 
 
%n\r. xv. OFFICES. 239 
 
 a \ery perspicuous and plain definition, as indeed he 
 i man very happy at defining. Pythius then, and 
 all others whatever, that make shew of one thing, and 
 yet i\o the contrary, are perfidious, wicked, and knavish 
 rascals. It is impossible therefore that any of their 
 actions should e\<r be profitable, when they are under 
 the scandal of such a number of filthy and detestable 
 vices. 
 
 CHAP. XV. 
 
 All hypocrisy and dissimulation to be taken away. Knavery > 
 or dolus malus, punished by the Roman laws 
 and judgments of equity. A remarkable action of 
 Sequoia's. He is not a wise man } who is not wise for 
 his own advantage, in what sense true. A truly good 
 man is not content with being as just as the laws re- 
 quire. A definition of such a one. He is very hard 
 to be found. 
 
 JF then this definition of Aquilius be good, all hypo- 
 crisy and dissimulation must be banished from amongst 
 men ; so that no honest man will be guilty of either of 
 them, for the sake of buying or selling to his greater 
 advantage. Nay this knavery or cozenage has always 
 been punished by the laws of the city r : witness the 
 XII tables about the case of guardianship ; and Laeto- 
 rius's law about the over- reaching of minors. Nay, 
 where there was nothing of a law against it, it was 
 nevertheless punishable in those judgments of equity, 
 the form of which was, Ex fide bona agitur, That all 
 things be done faithfully and honestly. And the same 
 sort of words are in all other judgments -, as when a 
 wife, for example, enters an action for her dowry, upon 
 a divorce from her husband, melius cequius, that things 
 be settled better and more equitably 5 when any thing 
 
 r He proceeds from natural honesty, or the laws of risrht 
 reason, to the laws of the eity ; and shews that knavery was 
 punishable by those ; though not in ail, yet in several cases. , 
 
240 TULLY'S book m. 
 
 had been mortgaged and pawned to another, ut inter 
 bonos bene agier, that amongst honest men there be 
 nothing done, but only that which is honest And 
 could there possibly be any knavery allowed of in that, 
 where the very court-form was, melius aquius, for the 
 better and more equitable settling of things? Or any 
 thing done through deceit and roguery, where these 
 words are publicly read in court, inter bonos bene agier, 
 that among honest men there may be nothing done, 
 except that which is honest? Now there is something 
 of this knavery, as Aquilius says, in all false shews and 
 hypocritical pretences: lying therefore should wholly 
 be banished from all sorts of business, and commerce 
 in the world : nor should sellers bring people to bid 
 high for their goods, and enhance their prices 3 nor 
 purchasers others to bid under value, and so beat them 
 down lower. But each of them, if they come to speak 
 about a bargain, should say at a word what he will give 
 and take. Quintus Scaevola', the son of Publius, going 
 to buy an estate, desired the owner to tell him at one 
 word, what it was he must have for it: the seller did 
 so, and Scaevola told him, he thought it was worth more 
 than what he had demanded for it, and accordingly 
 gave him a thousand crowns over. Now there is no 
 one but will grant this was done like an honest, but 
 they will not allow it was like a prudent man 3 any 
 more than if he had sold a thing for less than he might 
 have had for it. Here now, you may see, is that per- 
 nicious opinion, thus to make a distinction between 
 prudence and honesty. Ennius* has a saying to this 
 purpose, that he would not give a farthing for a prudent 
 man, that could not be prudent for his own advantage; 
 to which I am ready to set my hand, if he and 1 can 
 agree upon one and the same meaning of the word ad- 
 vantage. I find that Hecaton u , a Rhodian philosopher, 
 
 * Mentioned before, c. 32. book i. 
 
 * In his tragedy of Medea : see Epist. 6. lib, vii. ad FamiL 
 
 » Mentioned again afterwards, e. 23. He flourished about, 
 the year of Rome 640. All his works are lost. 
 
XV. 
 
 OFFIC1 241 
 
 and scholar of Panotitis, in his book about Offices, 
 which he wrote to Q. Tubero*. hath laid ihis down m 
 a wi&e man's duty, first to conform to the laws, and 
 customs, and practices of his country; and when he 
 hath done that, to make the best improvement he can 
 of his estate j since we ought to seek riches not only for 
 ourselves, but our children, friends, relations, and espe- 
 cially the commonwealth, whose public riches must 
 principally consist in the wealth and stock of its par- 
 ticular members. This man can by no means approve 
 of that action, which J just now mentioned of Quintus 
 Scsevola; and there is nothing, he tells us, that he 
 would Scruple to do for his own advantage, if it be but 
 permitted and allowed of by the law; for y which I think 
 he does not much deserve to be thanked or commended. 
 If then to make pretence of that which never was, and 
 cunningly to dissemble the real truth, be pieces of 
 knavery, there are but very few actions that are altoge- 
 ther free from it: and if he alone be an honest man, 
 who does all the good he can, and does no injury to 
 any body, it will be no easy matter to find one in the 
 world. The result of what has been said is this, to be 
 knavish and wicked can never be profitable, because it 
 is attended with baseness and dishonour" - } and it 
 
 * A noble Roman, grandson to Paulus Emilius, and nephew 
 to the younger Africanus ; beloved of Lselius Scaevola, and all 
 the great men of that time. He was hearer of the famous Pa- 
 nnetius, a letter of whose to him is mentioned by our author ; 
 who often commends him for a man of wisdom, industry, and 
 learning-. He was a great admirer of the Stoic philosophy, 
 vrlrieh lost him the praetorship. See Or at. pro Murcena, c. 63. 
 
 F For he that has no more regard to honesty, than just what 
 the laws of the public require ; and will scruple to do nothing, 
 so as he can escape their cognizance, can never be an honest 
 and good man. The laws and dictates of nature and right 
 reason, not only of the city he dwells in, ought to be the rule 
 of an honest man's actions ; these being only a shadow and 
 faint draught of that perfect justice, to which we are led by the 
 other. See c. 17. 
 
 z He does not mean that outward dishonour, which men 
 draw upon themselves by their wicked actions, when they come 
 to be known, (for that is avoided when the action is concealed, 
 
 Y 
 
84* TULLY'S book in, 
 
 always must be profitable to be virtuous and good, be- 
 cause it always is honest and creditable. 
 
 CHAP. XVI. 
 
 The care taken by the Romans, to make the seller tell the 
 faults of the thing to be sold. An example or two of 
 cases of this nature, 
 
 XN the matter of buying and selling estates 8 , it is pro- 
 vided amongst us by the civil constitutions, that he who 
 is the seller should tell all the faults that he knows of 
 to the purchaser. For the XII tables ordering no more 
 than this, that the seller should be bound to make good 
 those faults, which were expressly mentioned by word 
 of mouth in the bargain; and which whoever denied, 
 was to pay double damages ; the lawyers b have ap- 
 pointed a punishment for those, who themselves do not 
 discover the defects of what they sell ; for they have so 
 decreed, that if the seller of an estate, when he made 
 the bargain, did not tell all the faults in particular, that 
 he knew of it ; he should afterwards be bound to make 
 them good to the purchaser. Titus Claudius Centuma- 
 lus (to give an example) had a house that stood upon 
 the Ccelian hill, and hindered the augurs as they made 
 
 whereas even then it is infamous to be wicked ;) but he means 
 the inward reproach of men's consciences, and the real scandal 
 and dishonour that it is, for a man to do such things as are un- 
 worthy of, and disagreeable to, his reason. This follows every 
 wicked action, though kept never so secret ; and cannot be 
 avoided but by living such a life, as becomes the great rule of 
 our actions, reason. 
 
 a He proceeds to some particular cases, wherein knavery was 
 punishable by the civil laws : such as are concealing the faults 
 of a house, or the like. 
 
 b For though the XII tables were the ground and foundation 
 of the Roman law; yet the learned by their interpretations, in- 
 ferences from them, by their formula applied to particular 
 cases, or the like, added a great many new things to them, 
 which passed for a rule in judgments, as well as the XII tables. 
 
chap. xvi. OFFICES. 443 
 
 their observations from the Capitoline mount : who 
 therefore gave him orders to pull that down, which was 
 such an hindrance to their business. Instead of this, 
 Claudius puts a bill over the door, that the house was to 
 be sold ; and quickly put it off, P. Calpurnius Lanarius 
 being the man that bought it. The augurs in a short 
 time sent him the same orders, and he accordingly took 
 care to perform them. But afterwards coming to un- 
 derstand, that Claudius had not set the house to sale, 
 till after he had been ordered by the augurs to demolish 
 it ; he brought in against him an action at law, to re- 
 ceive such satisfaction, as in conscience and equity he 
 was bound to make him. Marcus Cato, the father of 
 him that is lately dead, (for as others are distinguished 
 by the names of their fathers, so he that begot this in- 
 comparable person should be named from his son,) sat 
 as judge in the case, and gave this sentence upon the 
 whole matter, that since Claudius knew this inconve- 
 nience beforehand, and did not discover it when he 
 sold the estate, he was obliged in equity to make it 
 good to the purchaser. He judged it therefore to be 
 a part of honesty, that the seller should fairly declare 
 to the buyer all the faults which he knows in the thing 
 to be sold. If then this judgment were just and equi- 
 table, neither the merchant that brought the corn, nor 
 the supposed seller of the infectious house, did well in 
 concealing what either of them knew. But all the par- 
 ticular sorts of concealing could never be taken notice 
 of by the laws of the city $ however such as could were 
 very carefully provided against. M. Marius Gratidia- 
 nus d , a kinsman of mine, had sold a house to Sergius 
 
 6 For making their observations from the flights of birds, 
 and that many times at a very great distance, it was necessary 
 they should have some high place, and that nothing should be 
 in the way to hinder their prospect. 
 
 d Son of one M. Gratidius of Arpinum, whose sister was mar- 
 ried to Cicero's grandfather, therefore he calls \i\xn his kins- 
 man. He was adopted by M. Marius, brother of him that was 
 seven times consul. He was afterward killed by Sylla't order, 
 having been of Marius's party against him. 
 
 y3 
 
M4 TULLYS bo.ok m. 
 
 Orata, which he had bought of the same person not 
 many years before. The house, it seems, paid a duty* 
 to Sergius, which Marius never once mentioned in the 
 bargain. The business came at last to a suit in law, 
 wherein Lucius Crassus was counsel for Orata, and 
 Anthony f for Gratidianus. Oassus insisted very much 
 upon the law, which says, that ihe seller shall make 
 good those faults, which he himself knew of, and yet 
 concealed them from the buyer : Anthony on the other 
 side argued for equity, that Sergius could not but know 
 that incumbrance, who had sold the house himself but 
 a little while before ; and therefore what need was 
 there of telling him of it } That he could not complain 
 of being any ways imposed upon, since he knew very 
 well the condition of what he bought. I have brought 
 you these instances only to let you see, that these 
 cunning sort of men were never approved of by our 
 ancestors. 
 
 * A thing in law is said servire alicui, when some one has & 
 right of using; it some way, or hindering some thing about it, 
 &c. As I may be said to have a servitus upon a man's house 
 or ground, when I can of right demand a way through it; or 
 hinder from building higher, &e. lest he should hinder my 
 prospect. 
 
 * The two famous orators mentioned above, and brought m 
 speaking in his de Chatore; where he mentions this yery cause* 
 lib, i. c. 39* 
 
chap. xvii. OFFICES. 24ft 
 
 CHAP. XVII. 
 
 The different methods used by law and philosophy, for the 
 rooting out of knavery. Treachery to set up traps, 
 though one do not drive the beasts into them. Ilow 
 the lair of nature differs from the civil. The excellence 
 of the Roman civil laws. The extent of that expres- 
 sion, Ex. tide bona. Knavish cunning very different from 
 true prudence. How the laws provide against fraud 
 in selling of slaves. Nature forbids one man to make 
 his gain of another's ignorance. The ill effects of false 
 prudence. 
 
 JLjUT the laws take one way to root out these frauds, 
 and philosophers another g : the former meddling no 
 further with them, than as they break out into open 
 acts, and may (as it were) be laid hold on by the hands 
 of justice ; but the latter endeavouring to hinder their 
 breaking out, and to prevent them by precepts of wisdom 
 and reason. Reason therefore requires of us, that we 
 do nothing treacherously, nothing deceitfully, nothing 
 merely by outward shews and false pretences. Now is 
 it not treachery to set up a trap, though one does not 
 frighten and pursue the beasts into it; for the simple 
 creatures of themselves will run into it, without being 
 driven? Just so you offer a house to be sold, because 
 of some faults which you know to be in it; and put 
 up your bill, as it were like a trap, in which some un- 
 wary sort of body will be taken. I know that, at pre- 
 sent, the depravation of manners, and prevalence of 
 evil custom, have made this to be counted neither 
 base nor dishonourable, and that it is tolerated by 
 the laws and constitutions of the public - } but I am 
 
 6 The difference between the laws and philosophers, as to 
 taking away wickedness, is chiefly this : that those can restrain 
 the outward actions only, but these inform the mind and un- 
 derstanding ; those can only punish the actual crimes of delin- 
 quents, but these by informing the judgment, and improving 1 
 the reason, take care to prevent the commission of them ; and 
 keep men from vice out of a love of virtue, whereas the law* 
 can only terrify them from it by fear of punishment, 
 y3 
 
246 TULLY'S bco& hi. 
 
 sure it is not tolerated by the laws of nature. For 
 it is tp be considered, (I must repeat it again, though 
 I have already mentioned it a great many times,) 
 that there is such a thing as naiural society, which 
 comprehends all men, and ties and unites them to 
 one another : there is a nearer between those of the 
 same nation ; and a nearer yet, between those of the 
 same city. Therefore our forefathers made a distinction 
 between that law which is common to nations h , and 
 that which belongs to each city in particular. What- 
 ever we are bound, by the civil constitutions, to do to 
 our citizens $ we are not obliged *, by the law of nations, 
 to do the same to strangers : but whatever we are bound 
 by this latter to do to others k , the same we ought to do 
 to our citizens also : but the law 1 , which at present we 
 
 b The law of nations is nothing else, but some rules and 
 maxims of the law of nature, which reason tells us we ought to 
 observe, in our actions and intercourse with all men whatever. 
 This is not so distinct from that of particular cities, as though 
 this could command any thing contrary to the former. No, the 
 laws of every city must he allowed by reason, and suppose it 
 as their foundation; but they determine some things, which 
 reason has left indifferent, and descend to some particulars as 
 to time, place, &c. which reason does not meddle with. 
 
 * Because the civil may add, though it can add nothing con- 
 trary to that of nations. 
 
 k Because that of nations is still in force, and obliges, not- 
 withstanding what the civil may have added to it. The build- 
 ing upon a foundation does not take away the foundation itself. 
 
 1 The laws and particular states consider men, as now they 
 are in the world, and only regulate their outward actions, so as 
 to preserve the peace and safety of the public : but those of 
 nature and right reason, in the observation of which consists 
 the perfectest justice that men are capable of; consider men as 
 they ought to be, and command ail that purity, sincerity, &c. 
 that becomes the perfection of a reasonable nature : which is 
 more than the civil can possibly do. The nature of God is the 
 true standard of genuine right and perfect justice - y right reason, 
 which is taken from the nature of God is an original piece ; 
 which though in no wise equal to the living standard, is at 
 least agreeable to it as far as it reaches : the civil laws are 
 taken from reason, and are only a copy and faint representa- 
 tion of it ; however it were to be wished that, such as it is, it 
 were carefully followed. This is the. sense, in which I take 
 this place, 
 
chap. xvii. OFFICES. 247 
 
 use amongst us, is far from being an original piece, im- 
 mediately taken from genuine right and true perfect 
 justice ; it is only a copy and faint representation of it. 
 However, I could wish we lived up even to this j for it 
 is copied at least from some of the best originals, which 
 were drawn from the truth and nature of the thing. 
 For how excellent is that form injudicial proceedings, 
 uti nc, die. That I may not be defrauded or brought to 
 an inconvenience, by trusting to you and your honesty? 
 And how incomparable that other, that honest men do 
 nothing, but that which is honest and without design. 
 But the great question is, who they are that are honest 
 men 5 and what it is to do nothing, but that which is 
 honest? Q. Sc8evola m , I remember, the high priest, 
 was used to say, that all those judgments which had 
 ex fide bona, faithfully and honestly put into their forms, 
 were of marvellous force ; and that faithfully and ho- 
 nestly were of very large extent, and belonged not only 
 to wardships, societies, trusts, and commissions, but to 
 buyings, sellings, lettings, and hirings, which relate to 
 the society and intercourse of mankind ; and' that it 
 was the part of an extraordinary judge to determine 
 exactly in all these cases, what one man ought to make 
 good to another, upon only the bare principles of con- 
 science and honesty ; especially seeing men differ in 
 their judgments about the greatest part of them. All 
 craft therefore should utterly be banished, and that 
 knavish sort of cunning, which would fain indeed be 
 counted, but is the farthest from prudence, of any 
 thing in the world : for prudence consists in the mak- 
 ing a right distinction between good and evil ; but this 
 kind of cunning gives the preference to evil) if, at 
 
 m Of whom he speaks c. 1. of his de Amicitia, and to whom 
 he applied himself for knowledge in the civil laws, after the 
 death of the other Mucius, who was augur. He was Cos. with 
 L. Licinius Crassus, An. U. C. 6f>3, whom he called duo Sapien- 
 tissimi Consules, c. 11. of this book. He was afterwards killed 
 by Marius's order in Vestas temple : Temper anli(E,prudentit£quc 
 specimen (says our author) ante simulachrum Vesta trucidatiw 
 tst, §c. De Nat. Deor. 
 
MB TULLY'S book hi. 
 
 least it be true (as most certainly it is) that every thing 
 is evil, which is contrary to honesty. Neither is it only 
 in farms and houses that the laws of the city, which 
 are copied from nature, take care to have cheating and 
 knavery punished 5 but in slaves they exclude all fraud 
 in the seller : for he that is presumed to know what the 
 slave was, if he does not declare whether he be healthy, 
 a renegade, or apt to steal, is answerable to the buyer, 
 by an order of theiEdiles: but this does not hold iri 
 the case of an heir*. From what has been said, it ap- 
 parently follows, since nature is the fountain from 
 whence law is derived , that it is agreeable to the dic- 
 tates and rules of nature, that no one should endeavour 
 to make his own advantage from the ignorance of an- 
 other. And indeed there is no greater mischief in the 
 world p, than this wisdom, falsely so named, joined with 
 baseness and knavery. From this have arisen innume- 
 rable cases wherein profit is set up in opposition to 
 honesty : for where almost is there a man to be found, 
 that would scruple to injure and wrong any other, if 
 he could do it with secrecy, and without fear of being 
 punished ? 
 
 n Because he being: newly come to the estate, of which slaves 
 were a part, is presumed not to know whether they are healthy, 
 Sic. or not. 
 
 That is, the laws command, that no one should enrich him- 
 self by cheating another; and the laws are copied from reason : 
 •whence it follows, that reason commands, &c. 
 
 p Having shewn by a sufficient number of instances, that 
 none of these actions can be profitable, which are contrary to 
 strict justice or honesty ; he now goes on to those actions, 
 which are done under the pretence of wisdom and prudence, 
 but indeed are quite contrary to it j and shews these also to 
 be unprofitable. 
 
in. OFFICES. 549 
 
 CHAP. XVIII. 
 
 An example of a wickedness committed when there was no 
 
 fear of punishment. It is a wickedness to be a receiver 
 
 ill-gotten goods, though you have ?io hand in the 
 
 It is dishonest to get estates by servile 
 
 fatten/. Separating profit from honesty, the cause of 
 
 all mischiefs. 
 
 JLiET us try, if you please, by some examples of that 
 nature, wherein the common sort of people, perhaps, 
 think there is no crime: for we do not speak here of such 
 as cut throats, poison, make false wills, rob, or embezzle 
 the public treasures ; who are not to be repressed with 
 nothing but words and philosophical discourses, but 
 must be vexed and wearied out with chains and impri- 
 sonment: but let us consider here what is done by those, 
 who pass in the world for men of honesty and integrity. 
 A will that was forged of one Minutius Basilus, a 
 wealthy person, was brought by some people out of 
 Greece into Italy ; who, to make it the more easily pass 
 for good, made Marcus Crassus and Lucius Hortensius% 
 two of the greatest men at that time in the city, joint- 
 heirs with themselves, who, though they suspected the 
 whole to be a forgery, yet having no hand in it them- 
 selves, made very little scruple of getting an advantage 
 by other people's villany. And what then ? was that 
 sufficient to excuse them from fault, that they them- 
 selves 'had no hand in it? Truly I am fully persuaded 
 not; though J always loved one of them while he was 
 alive r , and do not hate the other since he is dead and 
 gone'. But when Basilus had desired Marcus Satrius, 
 his sister's son, should bear his name, and had ap- 
 pointed him his heir; (I nominate him, says he, lord of 
 my Sabine and Picenian manors,) was it any ways a just 
 
 q Both mentioned before, c. 8. book i. c. 16. book ii. 
 r Hortensius. 
 
 • Crassus, whom Cicero by no means liked, as appears fron* 
 the next chapter, and especially from his sixth paradox. 
 
£50 TULLYS book hi. 
 
 and reasonable thing, and not rather an eternal blot 
 upon those times, that some principal citizens should 
 have a man's estate, and Satrius the heir be put off 
 barely with his name ? For if he be unjust, that does 
 not keep off injuries from any of his neighbours, and 
 defend and protect them as far as he is able, (as I have 
 shewn already in the first book',) what sort of man shall 
 we take him to be, who not only does not keep off an 
 injury, but rather on the contrary helps to promote it? 
 Nay I, for my part, am wholly of opinion, that estates 
 which are left men by true wills, if gotten by knavish 
 arid servile flatteries, not by a real, but pretended 
 friendship, are scandalous and dishonest. But in such 
 kind of cases it often comes to pass, that one thing 
 seems profitable, and another honest 5 undoubtedly by 
 a mistake ; for the same thing is the measure both of 
 the one and the other 11 , which whoever perceives not, 
 will easily be led into all sorts of roguery. For he that 
 begins thus to argue with himself, that indeed is honest, 
 but this is advantageous^ impudently divides, by this 
 gross mistake, those things which by nature are coupled 
 and united : which is the deadly root, from which all 
 frauds, wickednesses, and villanies spring. 
 
 CHAP. XIX. 
 
 The carriage of a truly honest man, when it is in his 
 power to be dishonest so as not to be discovered. The 
 true notion of a good man. A saying of Fimbria's in 
 the case of Lutatius Pinthia, to this purpose. A pro- 
 verb borrowed from the country, shewing, that nothing 
 dishonest, how secret soever, can be profitable. 
 
 If a good man therefore should have such a power, as 
 that by snapping of his fingers he could slip his name 
 
 * Chap. 7- 
 
 u Viz. Nature or right reason, to which whatever is contrary 
 can neither be honest nor profitable. 
 
GHAr. xiv OFFICES. 251 
 
 cunningly into rich people's wills, he would never make 
 U8C or' it ; no, not although he were fully assured, that 
 no one living could either know or suspect it 3 but give 
 such a power to Marcus Crassus, that by doing the 
 same thing he should make himself heir, where he really 
 WM not so, and he would dance", I dare warrant you, 
 publicly in the market-place. But he that is honest, 
 and answers to our notion of a good man, will never 
 take any thing away from another for the enriching 
 himself, and tilling his own coffers 5 which whoever 
 admires, let him even confess at the same time, that he 
 does not understand what a good man is. For if any 
 one will thoroughly examine his own thoughts, and 
 clear up a little his obscure conceptions, he will quickly 
 be able to tell himself, that a good man is one, who 
 does all the good that he can to others, but never any 
 harm; unless by way of reasonable and just retribu- 
 tion for some injury received. I desire to know then 5 
 is not that man guilty of harming another, that outs 
 the rightful heirs, as it were, by a spell, and procures 
 himself to be put into their rooms ? How then ! (will 
 some men say,) what, would not you have people con- 
 sult their own interest? Yes, but withal I would have 
 them understand, that nothing can be so, that is base 
 or dishonest: which is a necessary maxim for all those 
 to learn, whoever design to be good men. I remember I 
 heard my own father tell, as long ago as when I was a 
 boy, that Fimbria, one who had formerly been consul y , 
 was judge in a case of Lutatius Pinthias, a Roman 
 
 * Dancing was esteemed but a scandalous practice, and un- 
 becoming a sober and prudent person, among the Romans : 
 wherefore our author tells us in his oration for Muraena, c. G. 
 nobody almost dances, unless he be drunk or mad ; and calls 
 it, omnium titiorur.i extremum> a vice that no one would be 
 guilty of till he had utterly abandoned all virtue ; and umbram 
 luxur'uc, that which follows riot and debauchery, as the shadow 
 does the body. The meaning therefore of this place is, that 
 Crassus would not stick at the basest actions, if he could but 
 fill his coffers by them. 
 
 » With C. Marius, An. Rom. Cond. 649, when Cicero was but 
 three years old. 
 
25* TULLY'S book in. 
 
 knight, and a very honest man 5 who, upon pain of 
 losing a certain sum of money 8 , was to prove himself 
 to be a good man. Hereupon Fimbria plainly told him, 
 that he would never pass judgment upon such a matter; 
 lest either by giving the cause against him, he should 
 spoil the credit of a well-approved citizen ; or else 
 should be forced, by giving it for him, to pronounce 
 that any one was a good man 5 which he could not da, 
 considering the infinite virtues and duties that are re- 
 quisite to the completing any person of that character. 
 This good man then, of whom Fimbria had a notion, 
 as well as Socrates, will never judge any thing profit- 
 able, that is dishonest : from whence it follows, that such 
 a one will always be so far from doing, as that he will 
 never so much as think of any thing, which he is afraid 
 should be laid open to the rest of the world. And is 
 it not a shame that philosophers should doubt of this, 
 when there is not a peasant in the country but assents 
 to it? For from them we have gotten that common 
 saying, which is now by long usage become a proverb 
 among us, which they bring in to signify the faithful 
 dealing and honesty of a man : he is one (say they) 
 that you may venture to play with at even and odd in 
 the dark'. The meaning of which, what can it be but 
 this, that nothing can be profitable, but that which is 
 honest and becoming, though a man could be certain 
 of being never found out in it ? You see then according 
 
 * The plaintiff in a cause was to lay down a sum of money, 
 which if his case was not just, he was to lose. The defendant 
 was to do the same, or give up the cause to the plaintiff. This 
 money was called Sponsio or Sacramentum* See Val. Max. 
 book vii. c. 2. 
 
 a Micare signifies to hold up the fingers ; a play among the 
 Romans, said to be in use to this day in Italy, wherein one 
 holding up such a number of his fingers, the other on a sudden 
 (or something like it) was to guess how many there were. It 
 was easy therefore to cheat in the dark, by holding up more or 
 fewer before the other could be able to see. Hence to express 
 a very honest man, and one that would scorn to cheat, though 
 sure not to be discovered 5 they used this proverb. See Erasm. 
 Adag. 
 
chap. - OFFICES. 255 
 
 to this proverb, that neither that Gyges, whom we 
 mentioned above, nor that other, whom we just now 
 Supposed to have a power by the snapping of his 
 fingers to become all people's heir, can by any means 
 be excused. For as that which is scandalous and dis- 
 honest in itself, however it may be hid from the eye of 
 the world, can never be brought to be honest and cre- 
 ditable; so also that, which is not honest and credit- 
 able, can never be brought to be profitable and advan- 
 tageous -, the very nature of the things resisting and 
 opposing it b . 
 
 CHAP. XX. 
 
 Great rewards are very apt to make men forgetful of 
 honesty. Examples concerning this. An excellent rule 
 for our direction in this case. A man loses more by 
 doing an unjust action, than ever he can gain by it, be 
 the reward what it will. 
 
 15 UT when people expect great advantages from their 
 roguery , it is a mighty temptation for them to be guilty 
 of it. Thus, for instance, when Marius d was far from 
 any hopes of obtaining the consulship, and had lain 
 seven years from the time of his being praetor, so that 
 no one suspected his standing for that honour 5 being 
 dispatched to Rome by Q. Metellus*, whose lieutenant 
 
 b That which is not honest is contrary to reason ; that which 
 is profitable must be agreeable to reason ; otherwise it deprives 
 men of their good, viz. virtue, and consequently would be un- 
 profitable. The natures therefore of these two being opposite, 
 can never let the same action be not honest, and yet advan- 
 tageous. 
 
 c He goes on with his examples of craft, that pretends to be 
 true prudence ; and shews, that though it gets men honours, &c. 
 as it did Marius the consulship ; vet that it is truly unprofitable. 
 
 H He who afterwards came to he seven times consul. 
 
 e A noble, valiant, and virtuous Roman, chosen consul in the 
 war of Jugurtha king of Numidia, and sent against him ; where, 
 bv his valour and wise conduct, he beat tmU prince, and might 
 
 Z 
 
£54 TULLY'S book hi. 
 
 he was, an extraordinary man, and a brave member of 
 the Republic ; he accused his general to the people of 
 Rome of protracting the war 5 and told them, that if 
 they would but choose him consul, they should soon 
 have Jugurtha, either dead or alive, delivered into their 
 power. It is true by this artifice he got to be chosen 
 consul, but he paid for it the price of his honesty and 
 fidelity 3 who could thus bring an useful and excellent 
 eitizen, whose lieutenant he was, and by whom he was 
 sent, into hatred and ill-will by false accusations. Nor 
 did my kinsman Gratidianus* act the part of an honest 
 and fair-dealing man, in the time of his prsetorship: 
 the tribunes of the people held a common consultation 
 with the company of praetors, about settling the value 
 and rate of money; which at those times was grown 
 to be so very unconstant, as that nobody could be cer- 
 tain how much he was worth. They made an edict by 
 common consent, allowing an action against those who 
 transgressed it, and appointing a penalty for those who 
 were convicted. This being ordered, they agreed to 
 meet again in the assembly after noon, and all of them 
 together tell the people what they had done. The 
 meeting broke up, and the rest all departed, some one 
 way, and some another : Marius only, directly from the 
 court, went down to the assembly, and by himself alone 
 declared that to the people, which all of them had 
 agreed upon by general consent. If .you ask now what 
 was the event of this; nothing in the world could have 
 gotten him greater honour; statues erected for him about 
 the streets, frankincense and tapers burnt at every one 
 of them ; and, in short, never was any man more adored 
 by the multitude. These are the things, which do some- 
 times mislead men in deliberating about their duty; 
 when the offence against honesty seems very trivial, 
 but the advantage that is gained by it very consider- 
 
 have ended the war, had not Marius supplanted him. However 
 lie obtained a triumph, and the surname of Numidicus. See 
 Sallust, Jugurth, and Plutarch's Life of Marius. 
 f Seec. 1G. of this book. 
 
CHAr. XX. 
 
 OFFICES. 
 
 able. Thus Marius thought it but a little piece of knavery, 
 to steal the people's love from the tribunes and his col- 
 leagues ; but a mighty advantage to be made consul by 
 it, which was what he at that time proposed to himself. 
 But in all these cases there is only one rule, which I 
 desire you would constantly take along with you : be 
 sure in the first place, that what you count profitable 
 be no way dishonest; and if it be dishonest, then 
 assure yourself that it is not truly profitable. And can 
 we then esteem either the one or the other of these 
 Marius's good men ? Consider a little and examine 
 your own thoughts, that you may see what idea, what 
 notion or conception, you have of a good man. Is it 
 reconcileable then with the character of such a one, to 
 lie for the sake of his own advantage 8 ; to deceive, to 
 raise false reports and misrepresentations of others ; to 
 seize that beforehand, which others have a right to as 
 well as himself h ; certainly, nothing less. And is there 
 any thing then of such excellent worth ? any profit or 
 interest so very desirable, for the gaining of which one 
 would forfeit the glory and reputation of a good man ? 
 Can that, which we call by the name of profitable, bring 
 us any thing so good as what it takes away from us, if 
 it spoil our being counted men of honesty and integrity? 
 if it occasion the loss of our justice and faithfulness ? 
 that is, in plain truth, if it change us into brutes ? For 
 where is the great difference between altering our shapes 
 and becoming real beasts; and carrying the nature and 
 fierceness of beasts, though under the outsides and 
 figures of men ? 
 
 « As the former Marius did, in accusing Metellus. 
 h As his kinsman Gratidianus did the favour of the people 
 from the tribunes, and his colleagues. 
 
 z 2 
 
Sob' TULLY'S book mx, 
 
 CHAP. XXI. 
 
 To do any thing dishonest for the sake of power and au- 
 thority, not profitable. A most detestable maxim of 
 Ccesars. Not profitable to make himself king in a 
 free city. The unhappiness of a tyrant's life. 
 
 AGAIN, those who neglect all justice and honesty for 
 the sake of power 1 , do not they take just the same 
 method that a certain person did k , when he chose to be 
 son-in-law to none but one, by whose daring boldness 
 he might increase his own authority I He thought it a 
 very great advantage, no question, to enlarge his own 
 greatness, by drawing hatred upon another; but he 
 never considered how great a disservice he did to his 
 country, and how much scandal and discredit he 
 brought upon himself. As for the father-in-law, he had 
 always a couple of Greek verses in his mouth, taken 
 out of Euripides's 1 tragedy of Phoenissae; which I will 
 endeavour to translate as well as I am able, perhaps ii 
 may be aukwardly, but however so as to make their 
 sense appear : 
 
 If ever we break the ties of right, 
 ,r fis when a kingdom is the glorious prize. 
 In other things he strictly just- 
 It was a villanous thing in Eteocles m , or rather in 
 
 > In the last chapter he shewed, that no trick can be profit- 
 able, if contrary to honesty and true prudence, though it should 
 procure a man never so much honour : here he shews the same 
 as to power. 
 
 k Pompey the Great, who chose to be Caesar's son-in-law, 
 marrying his daughter Julia. 
 
 1 A famous Greek tragedian, eotemporary and rival of So- 
 phocles ; very well known by his plays, which are still, a great 
 many of them, extant. 
 
 m A king of Thebes, brother to Polynices ; who were both of 
 them sons of (Edipus by Jocasta his own mother. They agreed 
 to reign by turns, and the elder Eteocles began first, but when 
 his year was out, would not resign to Polynices. Hence arose 
 a war, in which the two brothers killed one another. The verses 
 
up. xxi. OFFICES. 
 
 Euripides indeed, to exempt that one breach" of right 
 from being criminal, which is certainly of all others the 
 most wicked and detestable. Why do we insist then 
 upon examples of lesser rogueries, such as making one's 
 self heir by cunning and spells, cheats about buying, 
 selling, <\e. Here is a man for you°, that has made no 
 scruple of desiring to make himself king of the Roman 
 people, and lord and governor of the whole earth ; nay, 
 and which is worse, hath accomplished his desire. If 
 any man call this an honest ambition, he must be out 
 of his wits; for he justifies the subversion of our laws 
 and liberties, and esteems the most base and detestable 
 oppression of them, a virtuous, laudable, and glorious 
 action : but if any man, confessing that it is not honest, 
 to get the dominion in that Republic, which has been 
 and ought to be always free, will yet say, it is profitable 
 for him that can do it; what reproofs shall 1 use, or 
 what reproaches rather, to recall such a one from so 
 dangerous an error ? Good gods ! Can it ever be sup- 
 posed then to be any man's interest, by the heinousest 
 and most unnatural wickedness upon earth, to ruin and 
 destroy his own native country; though perhaps the 
 man who is guilty of it, may afterwards be styled by 
 his poor oppressed citizens, the father of it^? Interest 
 therefore should always be measured by justice and 
 honesty ; so that these two words, though of different 
 sounds, should yet be understood to mean one and the 
 same thing. I know the common people are apt to 
 imagine, that nothing in the world can be better than 
 to govern; but when I consider the real truth and 
 reason of the thing itself, 1 find, on the contrary, that 
 nothing can be worse when people arrive at it by un- 
 lawful means. Can it possibly be profitable for any 
 
 here quoted agree very well with the person of Eteocles, who, 
 for the sake of reigning, broke his faith and agreement with 
 his brother. 
 
 B Viz. for the sake of a kingdom. 
 
 ° Julius Caesar. 
 
 * Ca?sar was called so, notwithstanding his oppressions. See 
 Suet on. c. 76, 85, 
 
 z3 
 
258 TULLY'S Eooic uu 
 
 man then, to live in perpetual cares and anxieties? to 
 be day and night racked and tormented with fears, in 
 a life full of nothing but treacheries and dangers ? 
 Many are treacherous and unfaithful to kings, says 
 Accius, and but few are faithful. But of what sort of 
 kings did he speak this ? Was it not of those, who by 
 lawful succession had received the royal sceptre from 
 Tantalus q and Pelops? How many more then must 
 we suppose to be unfaithful to that king, who with an 
 army of Romans had oppressed and enslaved the 
 Roman people itself j and had forced that city, which 
 was not only free, but even empress of the whole world, 
 to submit her neck to his tyrannical yoke ? What un- 
 easiness of mind must such a one, think you, be con- 
 tinually under? What wounds and twitches of con- 
 science must he needs feel ? How, in short, can that 
 life be an advantage to any man, which has this incon- 
 venience inseparably annexed to it, that whoever is so 
 happy as to take it away, will obtain the greatest glory 
 and good-will from all the world ? And if these things, 
 which seem most of all to be profitable, yet are found 
 to be the contrary when unworthy and dishonest; this 
 certainly ought to convince us all, that nothing can be 
 profitable, which is not honest. 
 
 <J King of Phrygia, whom the poets make son of Jupiter, 
 and tell us he served his son Pelops up to table to the gods. 
 But they, except Ceres, who eat a shoulder, abhorring the ban- 
 quet, restored Pelops to life, and sent Tantalus into hell, where 
 he was tormented with hunger in the midst of plenty. Pelops 
 afterwards married Hippodamia, daughter of (Enomaus, and 
 became king of that part of Greece, which afterwards from him 
 was called Peloponnesus, now Morea. His descendants were 
 -Atreus 5 Tbyestes, Agamemnon, &c* 
 
chap. xkii. OFFICES. 850 
 
 CHAP. XXII. 
 
 A brave example of the Romans preferring justice before 
 a seeming profit. Glory can never be gotten by wicked- 
 ness. Riches unprofitable, if accompanied icitk infamy. 
 Example of injustice in the Romans. How an empire 
 ought to be supported. Cato too severe in exacting the 
 tributes. An unjust saying of Curio's. 
 
 15 UT this has been determined, as at many other 
 times by our wise forefathers, so particularly by Fabri- 
 cius r , then a second time consul, and the whole Roman 
 senate, in the war with Pyrrhus. For when Pyrrhus 
 had voluntarily made war upon the Romans, and the 
 contention was held about empire and mastery, with a 
 no less powerful than generous adversary ; a deserter 
 came secretly into Fabricius's camp, and offered, upon 
 condition he might be well rewarded, to return back 
 again with the same secrecy that he came, and to poison 
 Pyrrhus. But instead of encouragement, Fabricius 
 ordered him to be sent back to Pyrrhus, and was after- 
 wards commended by the senate for so doing. If we 
 look no further now than the outward appearance of 
 what seems to be profitable, here is a dangerous war, 
 and a powerful adversary of the growing empire might 
 soon have been removed by the single assistance of this 
 one deserter: but then it would have been an eternal 
 scandal, not to mention the villany and wickedness of 
 it in an honourable war, which was managed with a 
 fair and generous enemy, not to get the victory by 
 virtue and courage, but only by base and treacherous 
 practices. Whether was more profitable then for Fa- 
 bricius, who was such in this city as Aristkles was at 
 Athens; or for the Roman senate, which never thought 
 any thing dishonourable their interest; to contend 
 with an enemy by valour or by poison ? If empire be 
 desirable for the sake of glory, why is not wickedness 
 
 T See book i. c. 12, 13. book iii. c, 4, 
 
260 TULLY'S book hi. 
 
 altogether banished, in which it is impossible there 
 should ever be any glory ? But if we are for power at 
 any rate, we should do well to consider, that it can 
 never be profitable when accompanied with infamy. 
 That counsel therefore of Lucius Philippus, the son of 
 Quintus, was far from being profitable, that those very 
 cities, which Sylla had freed for a set sum of money 
 from paying any customs, by the senate's order, should 
 again be brought under their fo r mer contributions : 
 and yet not the money, which they had paid, be. re- 
 turned them. This advice of his was followed by the 
 senate, to the great disparagement and shame of the 
 empire -, for even pirates at this rate will sooner be 
 trusted than the Roman senate. Well, but the public 
 revenues were increased by it, and therefore it was pro- 
 fitable : heavens ! how long will men dare to call any 
 thing profitable, which is not honest ! Can hatred then 
 and infamy be profitable to a state, which ought to be 
 supported by glory and credit, and the love of its con- 
 federates! In this particular 1 often disagreed from my 
 old friend Cato 8 ; whom I always thought to be some- 
 what too headstrong, in standing up for the interest of 
 the public treasury 5 and exacting the tributes with so 
 much rigour, as not to make any allowances to the 
 farmers, and very seldom or never grant any thing to 
 the confederates : whereas we ought always to be kind 
 to the latter, and to deal with the former, as we would 
 do with our own bailiffs ; and that so much the more 
 because all the safety and welfare of the Republic de- 
 pends upon the agreement of the several orders in it*. 
 Nor less ill than Philip's was the counsel of Curio u ; 
 who, in the case of the people inhabiting beyond the 
 Po x , though he confessed their demands were but just 
 and reasonable, yet always added, vincat utilitas; every 
 
 « He tliat was surnarned Utieensis, mentioned above. 
 
 4 The senators and equites : which last were farmers of the 
 public taxes. 
 
 u Curio the father. See c. 17. book ii. 
 
 x Who desired to be made free of the city of Rome, but 
 were denied. 
 
Mi. OFFICES. c 2ol 
 
 thing must give way to the interest of the public. He 
 should nit her have said, that they were not just, because 
 not comporting with the public interest 5 than thus 
 have declared they did not comport with it, and at the 
 same time confess them to be just and reasonable. 
 
 CHAP. XXIII. 
 
 ttal cases put by Hecaton the Rhodian. Diogenes and 
 Antipater oppose one another. Whether bad money 
 received for good should be put off. 
 
 HECATON y proposeth, in his sixth bock of Offices, 
 several questions, such as these which follow: whether 
 a good man, in time of great scarcity, may refuse to 
 give victuals to the servants of his own family? He 
 discourses indeed upon either side of the question, but 
 at last concludes, that he should rather be guided by 
 his interest than humanity. He demands again, if a 
 merchant in a storm be forced to throw his goods over- 
 board, whether of the two he should choose to castaway, 
 a very valuable horse, or a servant that is good for 
 nothing? Here interest and the saving of his goods 
 draw one way, and compassion of human nature 
 another. Should a fool in a shipwreck have gotten a 
 plank, may a wise man take it away from him if he 
 can? He answers, no; because it would be plainly a 
 piece of injustice : but what if the owner of the ship 
 should come, may not he take it away when it pro- 
 perly belongs to him ? No, not at all, no more than he 
 may throw a man out of the ship, under the pretence 
 that the ship belongs to him. For till they are arrived 
 whither the ship was hired for, it does not more pro- 
 perly belong to the owner, than it does to the pas- 
 :ers by whom it was hired. Suppose two men that 
 are equally wise, should both of them in a shipwreck 
 
 v ne of Panajtius's scholars, mentioned c. I,". 
 
862 TOLLY'S book in. 
 
 lay hold of the same plank 5 may either of them seize 
 upon it forcibly to himself, or should one of them vo- 
 luntarily yield it to the other? Let one yield to the 
 other, provided that other will be more serviceable to 
 the public, or there is more depending upon his life and 
 preservation. But what if these are equal in either of 
 them ? Why then there is no more to be said about it, 
 but it must even be let alone for chance to determine, 
 as though they should cast lots, or play at even and 
 odd for it z . What if a father should ritle temples, and 
 dig passages under ground into the treasury ; should 
 the son discover him to the public magistrate? No; 
 that were an horrid unnatural impiety; he should 
 rather on the contrary defend his father, if any one 
 else should pretend to accuse him. But what ! ought 
 not the interest of my country to be consulted, before 
 that of any one else whatsoever ? Yes, undeniably ; but 
 then it is very much the interest of your country, to 
 have citizens that are dutiful and obedient to their 
 parents. But if a father should attempt to make him- 
 self king, or any ways endeavour to betray his country; 
 should a son in such a case hold his tongue and con- 
 ceal it? In the first place, let him beg of his father to 
 desist; if that does no good, let him proceed to rebuke 
 and even to threaten him about it: but if at last he 
 perceive that it directly tends to the ruin of his country, 
 he should prefer its safety before that of his father. 
 Another of the questions he proposes is this j Suppose 
 a good man to receive, by an oversight, bad money for 
 good, and afterwards come to understand that it is bad, 
 may he pay it for good, if he owes another any thing? 
 Diogenes thinks he may, but Antipater not; whom I 
 rather assent to. Suppose a man be selling a vessel of 
 wine, which he knows will not keep; is he bound to 
 tell of this ? Diogenes thinks he is under no such obli- 
 gation 5 Antipater will have it to be every honest man's 
 duty. These are the things, which whether they are 
 right, and one's duty or not, are often controverted among 
 
 ? - What ??iicare i the word here used, signifies, see c. 1$» 
 
! . \xn . 
 
 OFFICE 
 
 the Stoics. In selling a slave is one bound to declare 
 what his faults are or not? I do not mean those, which 
 unl are told, the law itself commands lie shall 
 
 he returned upon our hands; but his being a liar, a 
 Richer', a player at dice, or a drunkard. One is of 
 opinion we ought to declare them, and the other not. 
 ilii an ignorant body sell a quantity of gold, and 
 suppose it to be copper j is a good man obliged now 
 to tell him thai it is gold ; or may he buy for a penny 
 what is worth a thousand pence ? It is plain enough by 
 this time what my thoughts are, and wherein consists 
 the controversy between the fore-mentioned philoso- 
 phers b . 
 
 CHAP. XXIV. 
 
 Whether a man is obliged to perform all his promises or 
 not ; though at the expence of his life or reputation. 
 Some examples upon it. 
 
 ARE we bound to perform all those promises and 
 bargains, which (in the praetor's language) have neither 
 force nor fraud in them ? Here is a man, for example, 
 that has gotten the dropsy, and another prescribes him 
 an infallible cure for it, upon condition that he will 
 never make use of it again. The man recovers by its 
 help at present, but falls again some time after into the 
 same distemper. Suppose now that he, to whom he 
 made such promise, will by no means allow him to use 
 the cure again ; what would be his duty in such a case ? 
 Why, since he, who denies him the request, is inhuman, 
 and it is a thing that will do him no manner of preju- 
 dice, it is the best way to take care of his life and 
 safety c . A good and wise man is desired by one, who 
 
 ^ For if lie be a downright thief, the seller is bound to tell it 
 by the law, otherwise his slave will be turned upon his hands ; 
 as appears from c. 18. 
 
 b Diogenes and Antipater. 
 
 • No one is obliged to perform any promise, when it will but 
 
 I 
 
L 
 
 %64 TULLY'S book hi, 
 
 appoints him his heir, and leaves him by will a consi- 
 derable estate, that before he enters upon the possession 
 of it, he should dance at noon-day in the open streets - 3 
 and this he accordingly promises to do, because other- 
 wise the testator would not make him his heir 5 would 
 you have him perform now what he promised, or not? 
 I could wish that he never had promised it at all, which 
 I think would much better have suited with his charac- 
 ter: but since he has done it, if he think it dishonour- 
 able to dance so in public, the best way will be not 
 to stand to such a promise, provided he takes none 
 of the money that was left him : unless the money 
 may be turned to some very great benefit and advan- 
 tage of the public ; so that it would be no disgrace 
 for a man even to dance, when it brings so much 
 good to his country along with it d . 
 
 CHAP. XXV. 
 
 Several other cases wherein a man is not obliged to per- 
 form his promises and vows ; nor to give up a trust. 
 The method he designs to take in the following part of 
 the work. 
 
 J\ EITHER is one bound to perform those promises 
 which are hurtful and prejudicial to the persons they 
 were made to. Thus father Phcebus, that we may 
 return to our fables % promised to grant Phaeton f 
 whatsoever he should desire; and the mad young fel- 
 low desired to get up into his father's chariot. It was 
 
 bring a loss and inconvenience on himself, and do no service to 
 the person it was made to* For why should that be demanded 
 of me, which can do nobody any good, but me a great un- 
 kindness ? Or what reason is there a thing should be done, 
 which brings a great deal of harm, and no manner of good 
 with it ? 
 
 * For an action offending against outward decency and mo- 
 desty, such as dancing is, ought to give place to an action *>f 
 justice ; such as is the doing a real kindness to the public. 
 
 « For he mentioned them in book i. and the Fable of Gyges 
 in c. 9. of this. 
 
 * See Ovid's Metamorph. book ii. 
 

 OFFICES. 
 
 accordingly granted him; but before lie could get to 
 be well settled in it, he was struck down with lightni; 
 How abundantly better had it been, in such a Case, If 
 the father had refused to perform such a promise? The 
 same may be said of another, which Theseus' obtained 
 of Neptune: this god had promised to do any three 
 things for him, whatever he should request, and he re- 
 quested the death of his own son Hippolytus, upon a 
 false suspicion that he had been naught with his 
 mother-in-law. He obtained what he asked, which 
 occasioned him very much sorrow and affliction. Again, 
 Agamemnon 8 had vowed, for a sacrifice to Diana, the 
 most beautiful thing that was born that year in his 
 whole dominions. To be as good as his word, he was 
 forced' to offer his daughter Iphigenia, than whom no- 
 thing that year had been born more beautiful. Had 
 not it been better to have broken his promise 1 , than 
 have done such a horrid and unnatural action r In 
 
 T Theseus married Hippolyte, queen of the Amazons, by 
 whom he had Hippolytus. Afterwards he married Phaedra, 
 daughter to king Minos of Crete, who fell in love with Hippoly- 
 tus. He neglecting her, she (in revenge) emnplained to her 
 husband, that he would have lain with her. Theseus in a rage 
 desired Neptune to destroy hjm, which he did; But the truth 
 afterwards coming out, Theseus was grievously afflicted. Seneca 
 and Euripides have written tragedies upon it. 
 
 9 Diana being angry with Agamemnon for having slain a stag 
 of hers, kept the Grecian fleet, that was going to Troy, at Aiilis 
 by contrary winds. Agamemnon to appease her vowed to 
 sacrifice the most beautiful thing at that time in his dominions ; 
 which proving to be his own daughter, he sacrificed her. Others 
 say the goddess put a hart in her stead, and carried her away 
 to be her priestess at Taurica. See Earip. Iphigenia. 
 
 * Unlawful oaths, vows, or promises, are not to be kept, be* 
 cause no man can ever oblige himself to tliat, which is con- 
 trary to a former and superior obligation. 1 We are all by God 
 obliged to the performance of such and such duties ; therefore 
 we cannot be obliged to the contrary by an act of our own. 
 But here we must distinguish between those which are unlawful 
 as to the manner or circumstances of them, and those that are 
 unlawful as to the matter they are about. The first is by some 
 called Juramentum illicitum ,♦ and the second, De re illieha. All 
 hasty and rash oaths are unlawful in the first sense, by which we 
 are obliged for all that; provided the subject they are about be 
 A A 
 
I 
 
 %66 TULLY'S book in, 
 
 some cases then a man is not obliged to perform his 
 promises : no more is he to restore what was given him 
 in trust. Suppose, for the purpose, a man in his wits 
 had entrusted you with his sword, and should demand 
 it of you again when he is beside himself; your duty 
 would be not to give it him again, and if you did, you 
 would be guilty of a very great error. Again, should 
 a man put a large sum of money in your hands", and 
 afterwards raise a rebellion against his country, would 
 you deliver up your trust, if demanded by him ? Cer- 
 tainly no 5 for this would be to act aga'nst the public 
 interest, which ought to be preferred before every thing 
 else. Thus a great many things, which are honest of 
 themselves, we may see cease to be so when the cir- 
 cumstances alter: to perform a promise, for instance, 
 to stand to an agreement, or deliver up a trust, ought 
 not to be done when they become unprofitable. This 
 may suffice to have been said of those things, which a 
 pretended wisdom would fain count profitable, though 
 contrary to justice 55 . But having laid down, in the first 
 book, four general heads, from which all offices or 
 duties are derived, I shall discourse upon each of the 
 same in this; and make out, that what is contrary to 
 any of those virtues, is only in shew, and not really 
 profitable. Of prudence then, which a knavish sort of 
 cunning endeavours to imitate ; as also of justice, which 
 is never but profitable, we have discoursed already. It 
 remains that we speak of the other two general heads 
 of dutyy; the one of which consists in the greatness 
 
 lawful. Then an oath is unlawful in the second sense, when a 
 man swears he will do any thing that is wicked ; which cannot 
 oblige him for, the reason above given. However he sins in 
 swearing such a thing. 
 
 « Oaths, &c. do not bind, when the keeping of them will 
 hinder some greater good, or bring some great evil. See Grotius 
 -de Jure B. et P. Sanderson de Oblig. Jur. 8fc. 
 
 * See note on c. 17. 
 
 7 He has shewn that those actions, which may seem to he 
 just and prudent, but really are not so, whatever advantages of 
 wealth, honours, or the like they bring 1 along with them, are 
 not truly profitable, because contrary to those two parts of 
 
chap. xxvi. OFFICES. 2G7 
 
 and excellency of a courageous soul j and the other in 
 such a regularity of our actions, as is conformable to 
 the precepts of temperance and moderation. 
 
 CHAP. XXVI. 
 
 That nothing can be profitable which is contrary to the 
 virtue of fortitude 3 shewn from the examples of Ulysses 
 and Regulus, 
 
 ULYSSES thought it would be profitable for him, (if 
 what the tragedians tell us be true ; for Homer, a writer 
 of the greatest authority, never once insinuates any 
 such thing,) but the writers of tragedy accuse Ulysses 
 for feigning himself mad, that he might avoid the war; 
 a design that was by no means honest and creditable : 
 well, but it was profitable (will some one say) to stay 
 and govern at his own home, and enjoy himself quietly 
 in his island Ithaca*, together with his parents, his 
 wife, and son. Is there any such credit in the daily 
 dangers and fatigues of war, that you can ever think 
 comparable with living such a life of tranquillity and 
 security? Yes, I wholly despise and contemn your 
 security, being fully persuaded that it can never be 
 profitable so long as it is dishonest*. Pray what would 
 they have said, do you think of Ulysses, suppose he 
 had continued in his pretended madness; when after 
 his glorious achievements in the war b , he had yet these 
 reproaches thrown upon him by Ajax ? 
 
 honesty. He now proceeds to shew the same of the other two 
 remaining parts, viz. Courage and Temperance, that nothing 
 can he profitable that is contrary to either of them. And first 
 of Courage ; see the next chapter. 
 
 * An isle in the Ionian sea, now called Theaca, which Ulysses 
 was prince of. 
 
 » Because cowardly, and so contrary to the virtue of 
 courage. 
 
 b He conquered Resus, stole away the palladium, &c. See 
 Ovid's Metamorph. book xiii. 
 
 A A 2 
 
 * 
 
\ 
 
 268 TULLTS book m. 
 
 Though, you all know, he first proposed this oaths 
 Yet he's the only man that would have broke it. 
 He first endeavour'd not to join i' th* war, 
 Faint-hearted coward ! feigning to be mad. 
 And had not prudent Palamede found out, 
 By cunning, this his impudent deceit, 
 The villain, notwithstanding all the ties 
 Of sacred oaths, had certainly gone off. 
 
 It was much better for him to bear all the hazards, not 
 of the war only, but of the sea too, (as at last he did d ,) 
 than not to make one among the rest of the Grecians, 
 then resolving, by consent, upon a war with the Barba- 
 rians e . But to remove the scene from foreign countries, 
 and fabulous relations, that we may come nearer home, 
 and to a thing that really happened : M. Atilius Regu- 
 lus, then a second time consul, was surprised in Afric 
 by. Xant;hippus f , the Lacedaemonian, and made a pri- 
 soner, (Amilcar g , father of Hannibal, being the general 
 of the Carthaginians,) and was sent by the Cartha- 
 ginians to the Roman senate upon solemn oath given, 
 that, unless some remarkable prisoners were restored 
 them, he should himself return back again to Carthage. 
 Now as soon as this man arrived at Rome, he could 
 not but perceive what appeared to be his interest, but 
 withal was persuaded (as the event declared) that it 
 
 « The Greeks took an oath, at tl^eir preparing for Troy, 
 never to cease till they were revenged on the Trojans. Not- 
 withstanding which Ulysses would have escaped. These verses 
 are taken out of a tragedy of Pacuvius, about Ajax and Ulysses 
 contending for Achilles's arms. The person spoken of in them 
 is Ulysses, and the speaker Ajax. 
 
 «* Wandering ten years, after the war was ended, before he 
 could get home. 
 
 « So the Grecians called all other people beside themselves. 
 
 f Who was at that time made leader of the Carthaginians, 
 and gave the Romans a notable overthrow in the first Punic 
 war. See Polyb. book i. c. 32. 
 
 e A noble and valiant Carthaginian at the latter end of the 
 first Punic war, counted the greatest general of his age, who 
 not only defended, but enlarged the Carthaginian empire. See 
 Polybius and Corn. Nepos. 
 
chap, xxvii. OFFICES. 2G9 
 
 only appeared so. The cause was thus: here he might 
 have stayed in his native country, and have lived at 
 home quietly with his wife and children; might have 
 judged his misfortune, received in the war, no more 
 than what all men in that state are liable to ; and might 
 still ha\e continued in his old degree of honour among 
 those of consular dignity. And who can deny now 
 (will any one say) that all these things are expedient 
 and profitable? Who do you think? Why greatness 
 of soul and true courage deny it\ Can you desire any 
 greater and more illustrious authorities ? 
 
 CHAP. XXVII. 
 
 What courage and greatness of soul teach us. A continua- 
 tion of the story of Regulus. 
 
 J HESE are the virtues, by which we are taught to be 
 afraid of nothing, to despise all the outward concerns 
 of life, and count nothing intolerable that can possibly 
 befal a man. Well, but pray what did this Regulus 
 do then ? He came into the senate, and told them what 
 it was he was sent about, and refused to give his own 
 vote in the case, forasmuch as he was not to be counted 
 a senator, as being by oath under the enemy's power. 
 And in his speech, which he spoke to the senate upon 
 that subject, (fool that he was, some will be ready to 
 say, and an enemy to his own interest!) he told them, 
 it was best not to give up their prisoners; that they 
 were young men, and might make able leaders 5 but 
 that he, for his part, was grown almost useless, and 
 worn away with old age. The senate were so per- 
 suaded by his speech, that they resolved the prisoners 
 should be detained in custody, and he himself returned 
 back again to Carthage; not all the love which he had 
 
 * That is, it was not really expedient and profitable for him 
 to stay at home, though it might seem so ; because contrary to 
 courage and greatness of soul. 
 
 A A3 
 
 i 
 
t 
 
 %0 TULLY'5 book m. 
 
 for his country, his friends and relations, being able to 
 detain him. And though he knew well enough what a 
 barbarous enemy, and what exquisite torments he was 
 going to return to '5 yet he thought it his duty, what- 
 ever came of it, not to violate his oath. I think he 
 was in a better condition therefore, even whilst he was 
 murdered by being kept from slapping, than ever he 
 could have been had he stayed at home, and lived 
 under the scandal of being an old captive, and a per- 
 jured nobleman. But was not it very great folly and 
 madness, if he would not persuade the releasing of the 
 prisoners, yet to go and dissuade it as much as he could? 
 Pray, how folly and madness? What, though it were 
 conducive to the good of the Republic? Or can any 
 thing be profitable to a private citizen, which brings a 
 disadvantage to the commonwealth in general ? 
 
 CHAP. XXVIII. 
 
 To separate profit from honesty, is to pervert the first 
 principles of nature. All men naturally desirous of 
 profit. The reasons given by those, who think Regulus 
 did ill in returning. 
 
 JL HOSE men who separate profit from honesty, wholly 
 pervert the first principles of nature k : for we all of us 
 naturally desire our interest, toward which we are 
 carried with so strong a bias, as that it is not in our 
 power to turn the other way : for who is averse from, 
 
 1 He was put into a little place, stuck all about with sharp 
 points, so that he could neither lay down, .lean on-one side, nor 
 stand upright: beside that his eye-lids were cut off, and the 
 sun let shine upon his eyes, so that he could never sleep, &c. 
 
 k The first principle of nature is, that every one desire his 
 own happiness, which is certainly his true and greatest profit. 
 Now this consisting in virtue or honesty, the right use of this 
 principle is, to conduct and lead men on in the ways of virtue. 
 But those who make men's interest separate from honesty, 
 pervert this principle, and make it conduct men toother things 
 instead of honesty, viz. riches, power, or the like, 
 
•.hap. xxviii. OH-ICES. 271 
 
 or rather, who docs not most eagerly follow his own 
 advantage? Hut since we can find out no real athan- 
 , except in what is honest, becoming, and conunend- 
 . therefore we count ihes,e the principal things • and 
 take the word profit to signify something which only 
 tes to our outward necessities and the supplying of 
 them, without all thitf glorious and shining excellence 
 which appears in the actions of virtue and honesty. 
 But after all is done 1 , perhaps some men will say, pray 
 what is there in an oath, that he should be afraid thus 
 to break it ? What ! was it Jupiter's anger that he 
 dreaded? But this is agreed on by all philosophers 5 
 not only those m who maintain that the gods lead an idle 
 life, neither busying themselves, nor disturbing others; 
 but those * who affirm they are always busy, and always 
 doing something that relates to the world : in this 
 thing, I say, they are all agreed, that the Deity neither 
 hurts nor is angry with any one". But supposing the 
 worst, pray what hurt could Jupiter's vengeance have 
 done Kegulus, greater than what Regulus did to him- 
 self? It could not be anything of religion therefore 
 
 1 He brings all the arguments of those men, who would have 
 it, that Regulus did foolishly in returning : as, first, that he 
 could not fear the anger of the gods, if he had stayed at home, 
 for they are never angry. Secondly, if they had been angry, 
 they could not have hurt him worse, than he did himself by 
 returning, &c. To all which he answers in the following 
 chapters. 
 
 m The Epicureans, who made the happiness of the gods con- 
 sist in ease, and freedom from disturbance ; and denied a Pro- 
 vidence. 
 
 ■ The Stoics, Academics, &c. who held that the gods took 
 care of the world and the affairs of it : only Aristotle confined 
 his Providence to the heavenly bodies. 
 
 See note on c. 3. book ii. The Deity it is true is never 
 angry as men are, never transported with violent passion. But 
 this was not so meant (by those I mean who allowed a Provi- 
 dence) as though the gods were not displeased at men's sins, 
 their breaches of oaths, and the like ; and did not punish them 
 too as they thought fit ; but these philosophers well under- 
 stood, that the gods punishing offenders was not a hurt, but a 
 real good ; if not to the punished person, yet at least to the 
 rest of the world. 
 
 
272 TULLTS book in, 
 
 that hindered him from folio wipg what appeared to be 
 his interest. Again, was he afraid of the baseness and 
 dishonesty of the action } As to that, in the first place, 
 always of two evils choose the least ; and where was any 
 evil in the baseness of the thing, so great as was that of 
 the torments which he endured ? Beside, pray remember 
 that sentence of Accius, which, however, it might be 
 said by an impious king, is yet generally acknowledged 
 to be very well said, who, when one told him you have 
 broken your oath to me, answered, 1 neither am, nor 
 have been tied by oath to any treacherous deceiver p . 
 Again, they tell us, that as we affirm some things seem 
 profitable which are not so; so they affirm some things 
 seem honest which are not so. As this for example, 
 of returning to be tormented, rather than break one's 
 oath ; which is not honest, though it may seem to be 
 so -, because no man is obliged to perform that oath, 
 which was extorted from him by the force of his ene- 
 mies q. And lastly they argue, that whatever makes 
 very much for one's profit and advantage, thereby be- 
 comes honest, though before it did not seem to be so; 
 This is what is generally brought against Regulus ; but 
 let us see and examine all the parts of it in order. 
 
 ? The force of this argument is, men are not obliged to keep 
 their oaths to deceivers and treacherous people ; and such the 
 Carthaginians were \, therefore Regulus needed not have kept 
 his oath to them. 
 
 * These words contain two arguments, which are afterwards 
 distinctly answered. First, it was made to an enemy. Secondly, 
 extorted by force. 
 
:\ xxix. OFFICES. 
 
 CHAP. XXIX. 
 
 the first part of the arguments brought against 
 
 The sacredness of an oath. The divinity of 
 
 faith. Pain none, or at least not the greatest evil. 
 
 Dishonesty the greatest, if not the only eviL Faith to 
 
 h those who are treacherous. Oaths 
 
 made tu hould be kept; not so those made to 
 
 </nd why. What it is to forswear ones self,' 
 
 The form of oaths among the Romans. Laws of war 
 
 to be ttept inviolable. 
 
 X IRST then r , they say, he could fear no harm from 
 the pager of Jupiter, who neither can be angry nor do 
 harm to any body. This proves as strongly against 
 all oaths in general, as it does in particular against this 
 of Regulus. But the 1 hing to be considered in people's 
 taking of oaths, is not what danger they are in, should 
 they break them ; but what a sacred and powerful ob- 
 ligation is laid upon them. For every oath is a religi- 
 ous affirmation; and whatever is promised after such 
 a manner, as it were calling God for a witness to your 
 words, ought certainly to be performed. For now faith 
 and justice require it of us, and not any fear of that 
 anger of the gods, which is not incident to their divine 
 natures. The faith I mean, of which Ennius has got 
 these incomparable words : 
 
 O Faith ! all-glorious and divjne ! 
 
 In lofty temples fit to shine : 
 
 Ev'u Jove himself by thee doth swear 3 ! 
 
 Whosoever therefore doth not perform his oath, affronts 
 the deity* of that divine faith, which was (as Cato in 
 
 r He begins with answering the first argument brought 
 against Regulus ; and shews what is to be regarded when people 
 take oaths. 
 
 * Men and the inferior gods might swear by Jupiter, who 
 wa» above them ; but Jupiter himself could swear by none, but 
 the inviolable faith of his word and promises. 
 
 1 The heathens made deities almost of every thing, viz. faith » 
 concord, luck, &c. See our author dc Nat. Deor. lib. ii, c, 23, 
 
274 TULLY'S book hi. 
 
 his speech informs us) set up by our fathers in the 
 capitol itself, even next to the statue of the great god 
 Jupiter. But, secondly °, they tell us, supposing Jupiter 
 had been angry with Regulus, he could not have 
 brought any evil upon him greater than what Regulus 
 brought upon himself. This, I confess, would be very 
 true, if there was no other evil but only pain : but that 
 is so far from being the greatest evil, as that it is not 
 so much as any evil at all, if we may credit some of the 
 chief philosophers 34 ; among whom, I pray you, let 
 Regulus be counted of no small authority •, if 1 may 
 not rather say of the greatest and most weighty: for 
 what greater testimony can any one desire, than that of 
 a principal man among the Romans, who, rather than 
 be wanting in any point of his duty, chose to undergo 
 the most exquisite torment : but of two evils, say they, 
 always choose theleast y : that is, in plain words, rather 
 be a rogue than undergo any calamity. Can any cala- 
 mity then be greater, than that of baseness and injus- 
 tice ? For if even the filth and deformity of the body 
 be loathsome and offensive ; how much more so must 
 that of the mind needs be, when it is covered and 
 polluted with shame and dishonesty ? Those philoso- 
 phers therefore, who discourse of these things with most 
 closeness and severity, venture boldly to affirm, that 
 nothing is evil but only what is dishonest : and even 
 those themselves who do it more loosely, yet always 
 acknowledge, that it is the greatest however of all evils. 
 That saying of the poet indeed is good, I neither am, 
 nor have been tied by oath, to a treacherous deceiver 2 j 
 but it is therefore so, because when At reus was brought 
 upon the stage, he was to make him speak that which 
 
 u He comes to answer the second argument against Regulus. 
 
 * The Stoics, who (as was before observed) allowed nothing 
 to be evil, but what concerned the soul and conscience ; calling 
 the calamities of the body or fortune, such as pain or poverty, 
 indifferent things. 
 
 y The third argument against him answered. 
 
 z The fourth argument, taken out of Accius's tragedy of 
 Atreus, answered. 
 
x.n\?. xxix. OFFICES. 975 
 
 was suitable to his character. But if once they begin 
 to lay down this for a maxim, that faith, when given to 
 those who are treacherous, is not to be kept ; they had 
 best have a care that this be not made a refuge and 
 cover for perjury. As for his oaths being made to an 
 enemy*; even war itself has laws that belong to it; 
 and faith, except in some very few cases, is always to 
 be kept, even with our greatest adversaries. For what- 
 ever you swear, for example, in such a manner, as that 
 your conscience b tells you it ought to be done, you are 
 bound most inviolably to perform it : but where it is 
 otherwise, you do not lay under any such obligation j 
 and are not perjured, though you should not perform 
 it. Suppose, for the purpose, you had sworn to a pirate, 
 that you would pay him such a sum if he would spare 
 your life ; it would not be perjury, though you should 
 not pay it him. For a pirate is by no means a lawful 
 adversary , but rather a common pest and enemy of 
 mankind $ so that no one is obliged to keep his faith or 
 oath with him. For to swear to a thing, and yet not 
 perform it, it is not immediately to forswear one's self: 
 but then a man is properly said to be perjured, when 
 lie swears upon his conscience d (as our form runs) to do 
 such and such things, and yet does not do them. For 
 
 a Answer to the fifth argument, his oaths being made to an 
 enemy. 
 
 b So I understand the words, ut mens coneiperet, &e. not as 
 though it were mens defer entis ; for I am not bound to perform 
 whatever I swear, according to the mind of him that gives the 
 oath \ for it may be unlawful, or the like. Beside, it is un- 
 reasonable to interpret oaths, just according to the mind of the 
 imposer : he may have his private meanings, &c. as well as the 
 receiver. See upon this whole subject, Sanderson, Grotius, 8fc. 
 
 c Grotius does not like this decision of Cicero's ; because in 
 an oath we are not only to consider the person's right whom 
 we swear to ; but God also, by whom we swear. It is true, the 
 pirate can demand nothing in this case; out the Majesty of 
 God, by whom I swore, lays an obligation of performance upon 
 me. But Pnffendorf de Jur. N, et G. book iv. c. 2. sect. 9, 
 seems rather to favour our author's opir.ion. 
 
 d That is the meaning of ex animi se)itenlia, and not with 
 design of obliging yourself. Oaths would signify just nothing 
 
$76 TULLY'S book hi. 
 
 that of Euripides may be said in some cases to be very 
 good, My tongue indeed swore, but my conscience did 
 not assent 6 . But had Regulus in his case done any 
 thing contrary to the laws and conditions that are kept 
 between enemies, it had been downright perjury. For 
 the Carthaginians, with whom he had then to do, were 
 a lawful adversary, between whofh and us there is all 
 the fecial f , and several other laws that are common to 
 nations. For had it been otherwise, it is certain the 
 senate would never have delivered up some eminent 
 persons in chains to their enemies *. 
 
 CHAP. XXX. 
 
 Examples of several eminent Romans given up to the enemy. 
 Answer to the rest of the arguments brought against 
 Regulus. 
 
 BUT they did deliver both Lucius Veturius 11 and Sp. 
 Posthumius in their second consulships to their enemies, 
 the Samriites j because being beaten at the passage of 
 Caudium, and the legions being disarmed and sent away 
 with disgrace, they had concluded a peace of their own 
 heads, without any orders from the senate or people. 
 
 , at all, if they obliged no further, than people designed to be 
 obliged by them. It was the form of oaths among the Romans, 
 Do you swear such a thing is so and so, ex animi tui sententia ? 
 Which words signify either according to your mind, or upon 
 your conscience. Hence that jest which our author quotes in 
 his de Orat. Cato the censor asked a man, Have you a wife or 
 not, ex animi tui sententia ? meaning upon your conscience or 
 ©ath : to which he answers, Non rjuidem ex animi mei sententia; 
 meaning, Not according to my mind or liking. 
 
 * When, for example, a man only reads or repeats the words 
 of an oath, or the like. See Grotius, book ii. c. 13. sect. 2. 
 
 f See c. 11. book i. 
 
 t Generals, who had made leagues with the enemy, without 
 power from the senate and people. 
 
 h About the year of Rome 433, Caius Pontius, whom he 
 mentioned c. 21. book ii. was then general of the Samnites, 
 See Livy, book ix. c. 1 . 
 
chap, ii OFFICES 27? 
 
 T. Numicius and Q. Melius, who were tribunes of the 
 people at the same time, because by their authority the 
 peace was concluded, were likewise delivered, that so 
 we might be freed from any obligation of keeping it. 
 And all this was done upon the proposal and advice of 
 Posthumius himself, who was the person delivered. The 
 case of Mancinus 4 , a great many years after, was ex- 
 actly the same, who having, without any orders from 
 the senate, struck up an alliance with those of Numan- 
 tia k , was the first man that spoke for that bill in the 
 senate-house, which by L. Furius and Sext. Atilius was 
 carried to the people; and which they agreeing to, he 
 was delivered to the enemy. He did more honestly 
 than Sext. Pompeius 1 , who being concerned in the 
 flame sort of crime, made interest to be excused from 
 undergoing the same punishment, and by that means 
 escaped it. This man now let the appearance of profit 
 prevail over honesty ; but in all the others mentioned, 
 the authority of honesty easily carried it from the pre- 
 tended profit. But to go on with Regulus" 1 : another 
 thing urged by his adversaries is this, that he should not 
 have performed what is forcibly put upon him. As 
 though a man of courage could be wrought upon by 
 force. But why, say they, did he go at all to the 
 senate, being resolved to dissuade the delivery of the 
 captives ? This is to blame him for that, which parti- 
 
 » C. Hostilius Mancinus, consul about the year of Rome 6*13, 
 who being brought into very great straits by the Numantines, 
 was forced to make a dishonourable league with them. The 
 senate, that they might not be bound to the league, delivered 
 tht author of it up to the enemy. But they refused to receive 
 }iim, as the Samnites had refused Posthumius before. See Veil* 
 Pater c. book ii. c. 1. 
 
 k A small town in Spain, which with a very few men held a 
 war against the Romans fourteen years, and beat them several 
 times : at last it was razed by the younger Africanus, 
 
 ! Consul the year before Mancinus, who made the first 
 shameful league with the Numantines ; but by his interest and 
 entreaties escaped being delivered up to them. He was the 
 first of the Pompeys that ever was consul. 
 
 m He returns to his defence of Regulus, and answers the 
 -ether arguments urged against him. 
 B £ 
 
 1 
 
878 TULLY'S book hi. 
 
 cularly deserves commendation : he would not depend 
 upon his own judgment, but pleading for that which 
 he thought most expedient, left it to be determined by 
 the judgment of the senate : and had it not been for 
 his counsel in the case, the prisoners had surely been 
 sent again to Carthage, and he remained safe in his 
 native country : but this he concluded would be a pre- 
 judice to the public, and therefore esteemed it to be no 
 more than his duty to speak what he thought, and 
 endure what might come of it. Lastly, they add, that 
 whatever makes highly for one's profit and advantage, 
 thereby becomes honest. I answer, that it may 11 indeed 
 antecedently be such, but can never thereby become 
 such : for nothing is profitable but what is honest; and 
 things do not become honest by their first being profit- 
 able, but become profitable by their first being honest. 
 I conclude therefore, that of all those great and 
 wonderful examples, which might easily be brought 
 upon this subject, it will be hard to find any more illus- 
 trious and commendable than this of Regulus. 
 
 CHAP. XXXI. 
 
 Regulus '$ returning to Carthage, a commendation of those 
 times. The sacredness of an oath, though extorted by 
 force, among the ancient Romans. This illustrated by 
 the example of Pomponius and Manlius. 
 
 BUT the only thing that deserves our admiration, in 
 all this glorious conduct of Regulus, is his persuading 
 the senate not to restore the captives. As for his re- 
 turning again to Carthage it is true we admire it in 
 our days, but at those times he could not have possibly 
 avoided it. The age, 1 think, therefore should rather 
 
 n Fieri signifies to be made, and esse actually to be ; the 
 meaning is, that a thing which is very profitable may be also 
 honest; but it cannot be made honest by its being profitable, 
 if it were otherwise dishonest. 
 
#hap. xxxi. OFFICES. 279 
 
 be commended for that, than the man. For there is 
 nothing our ancestors took greater care of, than that 
 the tie of an oath should be always held as most sacred 
 and inviolable. This appears plainly from the XII 
 Tables; it appears from those laws which are called 
 Sacrataeo; it appears from the strict observation of 
 leagues, by which we are obliged to keep faith even 
 with enemies ; and lastly, it appears from the punish- 
 ments and penalties which have been inflicted by the 
 censors $ who in no one thing have been more severe, 
 than in punishing those who had transgressed their 
 oaths. M. Pomponius, a tribune of the people, once 
 entered an action against L. Manlius p, the son of Aulus, 
 who had been dictator, for holding that office some- 
 what longer than he should have done. And amongst 
 other things brought in this too against him, that he 
 kept his son Titus, who was afterwards Torquatus, from 
 conversation with the world, and had strictly charged 
 him to live solitary in the country. As soon as the son 
 heard his father was in trouble about this business, he 
 is reported immediately to have set out for Rome, and 
 come early in the morning to Pomponius's house. 
 Ponjponius was no sooner told of his coming, but he 
 got up immediately; and thinking the youth, out of 
 anger, had brought some complaint against his father, 
 commanded all others to depart the room, and him 
 alone to be brought in to him. As soon as the young 
 man was got into the room, he drew his sword, and 
 
 • Because the commons, thinking they were oppressed by 
 the nobles, raised a sedition, and retiring to a place called 
 Sacer mons, refused to return till such and such privileges were 
 granted them by the senate. The laws made upon that occa- 
 sion were called Sacrcda. See Livy> book ii. c. 32, 33. and 
 Paul. Manut. de Leg. Rom. p. 39. 
 
 p Surnamed Imperiosus, a valiant and noble Roman ; he wai 
 chosen dictator upon a religious account, for driving a nail into 
 Jupiter's temple, \Livy % book vii. c. 3.] but a war falling 
 out in the mean time, he would have managed that too, im- 
 periously forcing the youth to take arms ; which got him the 
 hatred of the tribunes, and made Pomponius accuse him, about 
 the year of Rome 393. 
 
 B B 2 
 
 1 
 
2S0 TULLY'S book u% 
 
 swore he would immediately kill Pomponius, unless he 
 would promise him upon 'oath to meddle with his 
 father no further. Pomponius, out of sudden appre- 
 hension of the danger, did swear to him accordingly, 
 and discharged his father from any more trouble; 
 having first reported the matter to the people, and told 
 them why he was forced to let fall his action. Thus 
 strict and conscientious were people, at those times, in 
 observing their oaths. And this Titus Manlius is that 
 very person, who being afterwards challenged by a 
 mighty Gaul, killed him q in a duel by the riveF 
 Aniens and was surnamed Torquatus from wearing a 
 chain, (in Latin, Torquis,) which he took from his neck. 
 The same man again, in his third consulship, put to 
 flight and defeated the Latins near Veseris 8 . He was 
 indeed a very great and extraordinary person ; who as 
 be shewed his love, in this case, to his father, so he wasr 
 unnaturally cruel to his son '. 
 
 CHAP. XXXII. 
 
 The severity of the Romans against the breakers of oaths. 
 The example of ten sent by Hannibal to the senate, 
 upon oath of returning. Fraud not sufficient to excuse 
 a perjury. A resolute action of the senate in not re- 
 deeming eight thousand prisoners. The conclusion of 
 this head. 
 
 JSUT as Regulus did well in performing his oath ; so 
 ihose ten, who, after the battle at Cannae, were by Han- 
 nibal sent to the Roman senate, upon oath of returning 
 
 i The year of Rome 394, T. Quintius Pennus being dictator. 
 ZAvy, book vi. c. 9, 10. 
 
 * A river in Italy, that falls into the Tiber, a few miles 
 above Rome ; whence it is now called Teverone, that is, the 
 little Tiber. 
 
 * Another river in Italy, not far from the foot of the moun- 
 tain Vesuvius. 
 
 * His son fought a single combat with Geminius Metius, a 
 stout Latin, and overcame him ; but because he did it without 
 
chap. xxxn. OFFICES. 281 
 
 to the Carthaginian camp, if they could not obtain an 
 exchange of prisoners, did ill if they did not return 
 accordingly : concerning whom writers have differed in 
 their relations. Pol) bias", an author of very good 
 credit, informs us, ten persons of considerable quality 
 were sent, to the senate ; and that nine of them did 
 honestly return to the camp, not having been able to 
 obtain what they went about ; but the tenth stayed be- 
 hind and remained at Rome. This man, as soon as he 
 was out of the camp, pretending he had forgot to take 
 something along with him, went back thither again ; as 
 thinking his returning under such a colour,, was a very 
 sufficient performance of his oath. But certainly he 
 was mistaken -, for cunning is so far from excusing a 
 perjury, that it aggravates it rather, and makes it the 
 more criminal x . This therefore was no more than a 
 foolish piece of craftiness, impudently pretending to 
 pass for prudence : whereupon the senate took care to 
 order, that my crafty gentleman should be sent back in 
 fetters again to Hannibal. But the most glorious action 
 of the senate was this; Hannibal had eight thousand * 
 of our soldiers his prisoners, not such as had either 
 been taken in battle, or had fled from any imminent 
 danger of their lives 3 but were left in the camp by 
 
 leave from him who was general, he commanded his head to b& 
 cut off for his breach of military discipline : hence Manliana 
 imperia, used to signify any unnatural rigour and barbarity. 
 
 u An eminent historian, native of Achaia, and son of one 
 Lycortas, a prince of that country ; but afterwards brought to 
 Rome, where he was admired for his learning by all the great 
 men, Scipio, Laelius, &c. He wrote in Greek a history of the 
 World, containing forty books ; most of which are now lost. 
 
 x For all departure from the simplicity of an oath (they see 
 the words of a very great man) is a degree of perjury; and a. 
 man is never a whit the less forsworn, because his perjury is a 
 little finer and more artificial than ordinary. And though men 
 think by such devices to save themselves harmless from tho 
 guilt of so great a sin, thev do really increase it, by adding to 
 their iniquity the impudent folly of mocking God, and deceiv- 
 ing themselves. 
 
 9 After the battle of Cannae, where Paulus and Varrothctwe 
 consuls were defeated by Hannibal. 
 B B 3 
 
 1 
 
r 
 
 282 TULLY'S book nf, 
 
 Paulus and Varro, the then two consuls. The senate 
 decreed that these should not be ransomed, though it 
 might have been done with a small sum of money; 
 for no other end but to let our soldiers see, that either 
 they must resolve to conquer or die. Upon the news 
 of which, as the same author tells us, Hannibal pre- 
 sently began to be disheartened, when he saw that the 
 senate and people of Rome had so great resolution even 
 in the midst of their misfortunes. Thus, we see, honesty * 
 gets the better in the comparison, against that which 
 has only the appearance of profit. But Acilius*, who 
 has written a history in Greek, says, more of them 
 returned under this pretence to the camp, hoping by 
 such a trick to get quit of their oaths 5 and that they 
 were all of. them branded with shame and dishonour by 
 the censors for so doing. But let us now put an end 
 to this third head, since from what has been said it is 
 apparently manifest, that whatever is contrary to the 
 virtue of fortitude 5 that is to say, whatever is done with 
 a timorous, mean, disheartened, abject spirit, can never 
 be really and truly profitable, because it is wicked, dis- 
 graceful, and odious. And such would this action of 
 Reguius have been, had he either, in delivering his 
 .sense about the captives, spoken what was for his own, 
 Bot the public security 3 or afterwards chosen to remain 
 at home, instead of returning to fulfil his oath. 
 
 * A learned Roman, who was quaestor and tribune of the 
 people. He wrote the Annals of the Roman Empire in Greek, 
 which are thought to have been translated into Latin by Q. 
 Claudius Quadrigarius, and to be the Claudii Annales Aeilianiy 
 qupiecl by X/?vy, 
 
chap, xxxiii. OFFICES. 
 
 CHAP. XXXIII. 
 
 Nothing contrary to temperance, &c. can be truly profit- 
 able. Who those philosophers were, that made happi- 
 ness and misery consist in pleasure and pain. This 
 opinion ruins all virtue, prudence, fortitude, tempe- 
 rance, and justice: however, these philosophers endeavour 
 to clear themselves of this imputation ; but cannot get 
 well off. Pleasure opposite to honesty. The absurdity 
 of those, who would have made happiness to consist in 
 both these. A short recapitulation of this last book. 
 How far pleasure may be allowed. A conclusion, by 
 way of exhortation to his son. 
 
 WE have now finished our third head; the fourth and 
 last remains only to be spoken to a , which contains in it 
 decency, modesty, moderation, continence, and tempe- 
 rance. And can any thing be profitable, that is oppo- 
 site to a train of such excellent virtues? There hath 
 been however a sect of philosophers, scholars of Aris- 
 tippus, who were called Cyrenaicsfc; and others, who 
 had the name of Anniceriar-3 C given them, that affirm 
 all good to consist in pleasure, and count virtue itself 
 therefore only desirable, because of some pleasure that 
 it brings along with it. But these being now almost 
 worn out of date, Epicurus is mightily come into 
 vogue, the great supporter, and, as it were, second 
 
 a He has shewn that nothing can ever be profitable, that is 
 contrary tu three of the general virtues, — justice, prudence, and 
 courage : it only remains that he shews the same of the fourth, 
 temperance ; which he endeavours to do in this chapter. 
 
 b Because Aristippus [c. 14. b. i.] was born at Cyrene, a town 
 in Afric, 
 
 c So called from one Anniceris, a Cyrenian, scholar of Pa- 
 rsebates, a Cyrenaic. He corrected a little the Cyrenaic 
 opinions, and therefore was called founder of a new sect. See 
 Menage on L .ertius's Life of Aristippus, where he shews there 
 ■were two called Anniceris : the former cotemporarv with Plato, 
 and his redeemer when a slave in /Egina j and the latter of 
 this sect. 
 
r 
 
 284 TULLY'S ■ book hi. 
 
 founder of the same opinions. With these we must 
 fight (as they say) with might and main, if ever we 
 think of supporting the cause, and maintaining the in- 
 terest of virtue and honesty. For if what Metrodorus d 
 has written pass for truth, that whatever can truly be 
 called our profit, nay and all the welfare and happiness 
 of life, consists in a firm constitution of body, and a 
 well-grounded hope of its lasting continuance ; it is 
 certain this profit, nay this sovereign profit (for such 
 they account it) must sometimes be set in opposition to 
 honesty. For what e , in the first place, will be the office 
 of prudence ? only to cater and look about for plea- 
 sure ? How miserable a case is that virtue in, which is 
 thus made a servant and pander to pleasure ? but what 
 shall be her business in this office ? to taste and dis- 
 tinguish ingeniously betwixt pleasures ? Supposing this 
 to be a pleasant business, it is certainly the most scan- 
 dalous one that could ever have been thought on. 
 Again, can he that makes pain be the greatest evil, 
 have ever such a virtue as fortitude in him, the very 
 nature of which consists wholly in despising of pains 
 and difficulties ? I know Epicurus upon several occa- 
 sions, and this in particular, speaks very courageously 
 as to the matter of pain 5 but we must not consider so 
 much what is said, as what ought to be said by a man 
 of his principles, who makes pleasure and pain to be 
 the ultimate bounds of man's happiness and misery. 
 So again, if you would hear him about continence and 
 temperance, he tells you abundance of extraordinary 
 things in a great many places 5 but he is gravelled (as 
 we speak) and can never be able to acquit himself 
 handsomely. For with what face of reason can he 
 commend temperance, who places his happiness in the 
 enjoyment of pleasures ? When the sensual appetite 
 follows after pleasures f , and it is the business of tem- 
 
 A An Athenian, scholar and most intimate friend to Epicurus, 
 often mentioned by our author. 
 
 e He proceeds to shew, that this opinion ruins all the virtues ; 
 as first, Prudence. 
 
 f That is, pleasure (Epicurus's happiness) consists in indulg- 
 
chap, xxxin. OFFICES. 5285 
 
 perance to correct that appetite. But still they endea- 
 vour*, in each of these virtues, to bring themselves off 
 by one little shift or other: thus prudence is admitted, 
 and defined to be the ^kill of supplying us with plea- 
 sures, and defending us from pains : and they make out 
 fortitude as well as they can, by saying it consists IB 
 despising death and enduring torments: they do bring 
 in a sort of temperance too, though not without a great 
 deal of straining and difficulty; but, however, they 
 make a shift, after some fashion, by saying, they count 
 it the greatest pleasure, if they can but be exempt from 
 pain and uneasiness. Thus these three virtues stand up 
 pretty well ; but justice, the fourth, totters mightily with 
 them, or rather indeed is quite fallen to the ground ; 
 with all those duties which relate to the maintenance 
 of human society: for what kindne?s h , liberality, affa- 
 bility or friendship can there be amongst those, who 
 desire these virtues not purely for themselves, but only 
 in relation to their pleasure or advantage ? To make 
 short then, I shall only say, that as I have shewn be- 
 fore, that nothing can be profitable which is contrary to 
 honesty; so now I do affirm, that pleasure in general 
 is contrary to honesty; I the more blame therefore 
 Dinomachus and Callipho 1 , who thought this dispute 
 might be brought to an issue, if they joined both plea- 
 sure and virtue together, like a man and a beast as it 
 were in the same yoke. For virtue can never admit of 
 this conjunction, but abhors and disdains it 5 nor can 
 
 ing the sensual appetite ; but temperance consists in opposing 
 this appetite ; therefore temperance and pleasure can never 
 agree ; and consequently Epicurus is inconsistent with himself, 
 when he commends temperance, and yet makes pleasure his 
 sovereign good. 
 
 * Having proved that this opinion ruins all the virtues ; he 
 proceeds to shew how these endeavour to bring themselves off 
 in each of them. 
 
 h See note on book i. c. 2. 
 
 » Twd philosophers often mentioued by our author, uho made 
 happiness consist in plea.-ure and honesty joined together. See 
 Academic. Quizst. book iv. c. 45. 
 
 1 
 
r 
 
 %86 TULLY'S book hi. 
 
 ever the sovereign good and evil, which must be one 
 singie and simple thing, be made up and compounded 
 of such different principles. But of this, which is a 
 thing of the greatest moment, I have written at large 
 in another vvork k : let us now return to our present 
 subject: what has been said in this last book, I hope, 
 is enough to let any one see, how it is his duty to de- 
 termine his choice, if that which seems useful and 
 expedient for him, should come into competition with 
 that which is honest. But if it should be said, that 
 even pleasure carries with it the appearance of profit ; 
 let it also be considered, that it never can be brought 
 to an agreement with honesty : for the most that can 
 possibly be said for pleasure (that we may not seem 
 wholly to exclude it) is, that it serves by way of sauce, 
 to give a relish to things, but has no true profit or ad- 
 vantage in itself. 
 
 This is (he present, dear son Mark, that your father 
 sends you, and in my opinion it is a very good one; 
 but that will depend upon the use you shall make of 
 it. However entertain, among Cratippus's lectures, 
 these three books, and shew them at least the civility 
 due to strangers. Had it been my fortune to have come 
 to Athens, (which had surely been done, if I had not 
 been recalled by the cries of my country!,) you might 
 then perhaps sometimes have heard my lectures : how- 
 ever since now, in perusing these sheets, you will have 
 my voice, as it were, by proxy, pray bestow upon 
 them as much time as you can, and I am sure you can 
 as much as you please. When I hear you take a plea- 
 sure in this sort of studies, it will delight me to talk to 
 you (which I hope may be speedily) face to face 5 or 
 
 k His books De Finibus Bonorum ei Malerum. 
 
 1 He was on his way thither; but was sent home again by 
 some who told him that his presence would be very advan- 
 tageous to the public. See his own relation of it, at the begin- 
 ning of his first PJiitippic, and Epist, vii. lib. 16, ad Attic, and 
 Epist. 1. lib. 10, ad Fam. 
 
chap, xxxni. OFFICES. 287 
 
 however to write to you, though at never so great a 
 distance. In the mean time, adieu, my dear Cicero, 
 and assure yourself, that though no one in the world is 
 more dear to me than you are, yet you will hereafter 
 be much more so, if I rind you take delight in such 
 writings and instructions. 
 
 i 
 
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