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have, influence with those who themselves allure and invite it; yet more steady and consistent persons require to be warned that they take care lest they are entrapped by such crafty flattery; for every one, except the man who is extremely obtuse, observes the person who openly employs adulation But lest the crafty and insidious man should insinuate himself, you mut be studiously on your guard; for he is not very easily recognized, seeing that he offen flatters by opposing; and pretending that he quarrels, is fawning all the time, and at last surrenders himself, and allows himself to be beaten: so that he who has been deluded may fancy that he has seen further than the other; for what can be more disgraceful than to be deluded? And lest this happen, we must be more cautious, as it is said in the Epiclerus, "To-day, above all the foolish old fellows of the comedy, you will have deceived me and played upon me in a most amusing manner." For this is the most foolish character of all in the plays, that of unthinking and credulous old men. But I know not how it is that my address, passing from the friendship of perfect men, that is of the wise (for- I speak of that wisdom which seems within the reach of man), has digressed into frivolous friendships. Wherefore, let me return to that from which I set out, and bring these remarks at length to a conclusion.
XXVII. It is virtue, virtue I say, Caius Fannius, and you, Quintus Mucius that both wins friendship and preserves it; for in it is found tho power of adapting one's self to circumstances, and also steadfastness and consistency and when
1 The necessity of virtuo, then, in every bosom of which wo resolve to Bhare the feelings, would be sufficiently evident, though we were to consider those feelings only; but all the participation is not to be on our part . We are to place confidence, as well as to receive it; we are not to be comforters only, but sometimes too the comforted; and our own conduct may require tho defense which we are sufficiently ready to afford to the conduct of our friend. Even with respect to the pleasure of tho friendship itself, if it bo a pleasure on which we set a high value, it is not a slight consideration whether it be fixed on one whose regard is likely to be as stable as ours, or on one who may in a few months, or perhaps even in a few weeks, withhold from us the very pleasure of that intimacy which before had been profusely lavished on us. In every one of theso respects I need not point out to you the manifest superiority of virtuo over vice. Virtue only is stable, because virtue only is consistent and tho caprice which, under a momentary impulse, begins in eager intimar^ she has exalie I herself and displayed her own effulgence, and hath beheld the same and recognized it in another, she moves toward it, and in her turn receives that which is in the other; from which is kindled love or friendship, for both derive their name from loving; for to love is nothing else than to be attached to the person whom you love, without any sense of want, without any advantage being sought; and yet advantage springs up of itself from friendship, even though you may not have pursued it. It was with land feelings of this description that I, when young, was attached to those old men, Lucius Paullus, Marcus Cato, Caius Gallus, Publius Nasica and Tiberius Gracchus,1 the father-in-law of our friend Scipio. This is even more strikingly obvious between per
with ono, as it began it from an impulse as momentary with another, will soon find a third, with whom it may again begin it with the samo exclusion, for the moment, of every previous attachment. Nothing can be juster than the observation of Rousseau on these hasty starts of kindness, that, 'ho who treats us at first sight like a friend of twenty years' standing, will very probably at the end of twenty years treat us as a stranger if we have any important service to request of him.'
"If without virtue we have little to hope in stability, have we even, while the semblance of friendship lasts, much more to hope as to those services of kindness which we may need from our friends? The secrets which it may be of no importance to divulge, all may keep with equal fidelity; because nothing is to be gained by circulating what no man would take sufficient interest in hearing, to remember after it was heard; but if the secret be of a kind which, if made known, would gain the favor of some one whose favor it would be more profitable to gain than retain ours, can we expect fidelity from a mind that thinks only of what is to be gained by vice, in the great social market of moral feelings, not of what it is right to do? Can we expect consolation in our affliction from one who regards our adversity only as a sign that there is nothing more to be hoped from our intimacy; or trust our virtues to the defense of him who defends or assails, as interest prompts, and who may see his interest in representing us as guilty of the very crimes with which slander has loaded us? In such cases wo have no title to complain of the treacheries of friendship; for it was not friendship in which we trusted: the treachery is as much the fault of the deceived as of the deceiver; we have ourselves violated some of the most important duties of friendship; the duties which relate to its commencement."—Moral Philosophy, Lect. lxxxix.
1 T. Gracchus, who with his brother, C. Gracchus, excited great tumults about the Agrarian law. He was slain for his seditious conduct by P. Nasica. His name has passed into a by-word for a factious demai gogue. It is thus applied by Juvenal:—
"Quis tulerit Gracchos de seditiono querentes I"
sons of the same age, as between mo and Scipio, Lucius Furius, Publius Rupilius, and Spurius Mummiuo: and now in turn, in my old age I repose in the attachment of younger men, as in yours and that of Quintus Tubero; nay, I even take delight in the familiarity of some that are very young, of Publius Rutilius and Aulius Virginius. And since the course of our life and nature is so directed that a new period is ever arising, it is especially to be wished that with those comrades with whom you set out, as it were, from the starting, with the same you may, as they say, arrive at the goal. But, since human affairs are frail and fleeting, some persons must ever be sought for whom we may love, and by whom we may be loved; for when affection and kind feeling are done away with, all cheerfulness likewise is banished from existence. To me, indeed, though he was suddenly snatched away, Scipio still lives, and will always live; for I love the virtue of that man, and that worth is not yet extinguished: and not before my eyes only is it presented, who ever had it in possession, but even with posterity it will be illustrious and renowned; for never shall any undertake any high achievements with spirit and hope, without feeling that the memory and the character of that man should be placed before him. Assuredly, of all things that either fortune or nature has bestowed on me, I have none which I can compare with the friendship of Scipio.1 In it I had concurrence in politics, and in it advice for my private affairs. In it also,
1 This confession is not confined to Cicero or his age. Lord Clarendon was often heard to say, "that next to the immediate blessing and providence of God Almighty, which had preserved him throughout the wholq course of this life from many dangers and disadvantages, in which many other young men were lost, he owed all the little he knew, and the little good that was in him, to the friendship and conversation he still had been used to, of the most excellent men in their several kinds that lived in that age, by whose learning and information and instruction he formed his studies and mended his understanding, and by whose example he formed his manners, subdued that pride, and suppressed that heat and passion he was naturally inclined to be transported with: and always charged his children to follow his example in that point, protesting, that in the whole course of his life he never knew one man, of what condition soever, arrive to any degree of reputation in the world, who made choice or delighted in the company or conversation of those who, in their qualities and their parts were not much superior to himsel£"—Clarendon's Memoirs of his own Life.
I possessed a repose replete with pleasure. Never in the slightest degree did I offend him, at least so far as I was aware; never did I myself hear a word from him that I was unwilling to hear: we had one house between us, the same food, and that common to both; and not only service abroad, but even our traveling and visits to the country were in common. For what need I say of our constant pursuits of knowledge and learning, in which, retired from the eyes of the world, we spent all our leisure time? Now, if the recollection and memory of these things had died along with him, I could in no wise have borne the loss of that most intimate and affectionate friend; but these things have not perished, yea, they are rather cherished and improved by reflection and memory;1 and even if I were altogether bereft of them, yet would ago itself bring me much comfort, for I can not now very long suffer these regrets. Now all afflictions, if brief, ought to bo tolerable, howsoever great they may be. Such are the remarks I had to make on friendship. But as for you, I exhort you to lay the foundations of virtue, without which friendship can not exist, in such a manner that, with this one exception, you may consider that nothing in the world is more excellent than friendship.
1 "The pleasures resulting from the mutual attachment of kindred spirits are by no means confined to the moments of personal intercourse; they diffuse their odors, though more faintly, through the seasons of absence, refreshing and exhilarating the mind by the remembrance of tho past and the anticipation of the future. It is a treasure possessed when it is not employed—a reserve of strength, ready to be called into action when most needed—a fountain of sweets, to which we may continually repair, whose waters are inexhaustible."—Robert Hall's Funeral Sermon for Dr. Ryland.
ON OLD AGE.
"O Titus,1 if I shall have assisted you at all, or alleviated the anxiety which now fevers, and, fixed in your heart, distracts you, shall I have any reward?"
I. For I may address you, AUicus, in the same lines in which ho addresses Flaminius,
"That man, not of great property, but rich in integrity."
And yet I am very sure that not, as Flaminius,
"Are you, 0 Titus, so racked by anxiety night and day:"
for I know the regularity and even temperament of your mind; and I am well aware that you have derived not only your surname from Athens, but also refinement and wisdom; and yet I suspect that you are sometimes too deeply affected by the same causes by which I myself am; the consolation of which is of a higher kind, and requires to be put off to another occasion." But at present I have thought it good to
1 Titus Pomponius Atticus, to whom this treatise is addressed, was a celebrated Roman knight. Cicero wrote to him a number of letters which still survive. ' He was surhamed Atticus from his perfect knowledge of the Greek language and literature. A minute account of his life has been written by Cornelius Nepos, one of his intimate friends.
2 "This alludes to the disordered state of the commonwealth occasioned by Julius Caesar's usurpation, and the commotion consequent on his death; the present treatise having been written soon after he was assassinated in the senate. No man had more at stake in these public convulsions than Cicero; and nothing sets the power of his mind in a more striking point of view than his being able, at such an alarming crisis, sufficiently to compose his thoughts to meditations of this kind. For not only this treatise, but his Essay on Friendship, his dialogues on the Nature of the Gods, together with those- concerning Divination, as also ids book of Offices, and some other of the most considerable of his philosophical writings, were drawn up within the same turbulent and distracted period."—Melmoth.