17. I would then define the terms of friendship by saying that where friends are of blameless character, there may fittingly be between them a community of all interests, plans, and purposes without any exception even so far that, if perchance there be occasion for furthering the not entirely right wishes of friends when life or reputation is at stake, one may in their behalf deviate somewhat from a perfectly straight course [1] yet not so far as to

[1 This at first sight appears like a license to yield up moral considerations to friendship, though the qualification, in the sequel, "not so far as to incur absolute dishonor," and "virtue is by no means to be sacrificed," seem saving clauses. But Cicero certainly has a right to be his own interpreter since in the De Officiis as I think, he explains in full and in accordance with the highest moral principle, what he means here, and we have a double right to insist on this interpretation first, because the De Officiis was written so very little while after the De Amicitia, and both at so ripe an age, that a change of opinion on important matters was improbable and secondly, because in the later treatise he expressly refers to the former as giving in full his views on friendship, and thus virtually sanctions that treatise. Now in the De Officiis he says A good man will do nothing against the State, or in violation of his oath of good faith, for the sake of his friend, not even if he were a judge in his friend's case. . . . He will yield so far to friendship as to wish his friend's case to be worthy of succeeding, and to accommodate him as to the time of trial, within legal limits. But inasmuch as he must give sentence upon his oath, he will bear it in mind that he has "God for a witness." In another passage of the De Officiis, Cicero asserts, somewhat hesitatingly, yet on the authority of Panaetius as the strictest of Stoics, the moral rightfulness of "defending on some occasions a guilty man, if he be not utterly depraved and false to all human relations." As in the passage on which I am commenting special reference is made to the peril of life or reputation, what Cicero contends for, as it seems to me, is the right of defending a guilty friend as advocate, or of favoring him as to time and mode of trial as a judge. Aulius Gellius, in connection with this passage in De Amicitia, tells the following story of Chilo, who was on some of the lists of the seven wise men. Chilo, on the last day of his life, said that the only thing that gave him uneasy thought, and was burdensome to his conscience, was that once when he and two other men were judges in a case in which a friend of his was tried for a capital crime, he, in accordance with his own conviction, voted his friendy guilty, but so influenced the minds of his two associates that they gave their voice for his acquittal.]

incur absolute dishonor. There is a point up to which a concession made to friendship is venial. But we are not bound to be careless of our own reputation, nor ought we to regard the esteem of our fellow-citizens as an instrument of such affairs as devolve upon us,—an esteem which it is base to conciliate [footnote: Latin, colligere, to collect, or gather up, one by one, the good-will of each individual citizen.] by flattery and fawning. Virtue, which has the sincere regard of the people as its consequence, is by no means to be sacrificed to friendship.

But, to return to Scipio, who was all the time talking about friendship, he often complained that men exercised greater care about all other matters; that one could always tell how many goats and sheep he had, but could not tell how many friends he had; and that men were careful in selecting their beasts, but were negligent in the choice of friends, and had nothing like marks and tokens [footnote: Latin, signa et notas, the marks and tokens by which the quality and worth of goats and sheep were estimated.] by which to determine the fitness of friends.

Firm, steadfast, self-consistent men are to be chosen as friends, and of this kind of men there is a great dearth. It is very difficult to judge of character before we have tested it; but we can test it only after firendship is begun. Thus friendship is prone to outrun judgment, and to render a fair trial impossible. It is therefore the part of a wise man to arrest the impulse of kindly feeling, as we check a carriage in its course, that, as we use only horses that have been tried, so we may avail ourselves of friendships in which the characters of our friends have been somehow put to the test. Some readily show how fickle their friendship is in paltry pecuniary matters; others, whom a slight consideration of that kind cannot influence, betray themselves when a large amount is involved. But if some can be found who think it mean to prefer money to friendship, where shall we come upon those who do not put honors, civic offices, military commands, places of power and trust, before friendship, so that when these are offered on the one hand, and the claims of friendship on the other, they will much rather make choice of the objects of ambition? For nature is too feeble to despise a commanding station, and even though it be obtained by the violation of friendship men think that this fault will be thrown into obscurity, because it was not without a weighty motive that they held friendship in abeyance. Thus true friendships are rare among those who are in public office, and concerned in the affairs of the State. For where will you find him who prefers a friend's promotion to his own? What more shall I say? Not to dwell longer on the influence of ambition upon friendship, how burdensome how difficult does it seem to most men to share misfortunes to which it is not easy to find those who are willing to stoop. Although Ennius is right in saying

"In unsure fortune a sure friend is seen,"

yet one of these two things convicts most persons of fickleness and weakness,—either their despising their friends when they themselves are prosperous, or deserting their friends in adversity.

18 Him, then, who alike in either event shall have shown himself unwavering, constant, firm in friendship we ought to regard as of an exceedingly rare and almost divine order of men.

Still further good faith is essential to the maintenance of the stability and constancy which we demand in friendship, for nothing that is unfaithful is stable. It is, moreover, fitting to choose tor a friend one who is frank, affable, accommodating, interested in the same things with ourselves,—all which qualities come under the head of fidelity, for a changeful and wily disposition cannot be faithful, nor can he who has not like interests and a kindred nature with his friend be either faithful or stable. I ought to add that a friend should neither take pleasure in finding fault with his friend, nor give credit to the charges which others may bring against him,—all which is implied in the constancy of which I have been speaking. Thus we come back to the truth which I announced at the beginning of our conversation, that friendship can exist only between the good. It is, indeed, the part of a good or— what is the same thing—a wise man [Footnote: Wisdom and goodness were identical with the Stoics.] to adhere to these two principles in friendship,—first, that he tolerate no feigning or dissembling (for an ingenuous man will rather show even open hatred than hide his feeling by his face), and, secondly, that he not only repel charges made against his friend by others, but that he be not himself suspicious, and always thinking that his friend has done something unfriendly.

To these requisites there may well be added suavity of speech and manners, which is of no little worth as giving a relish to the intercourse of friendship. Rigidness and austerity of demeanor on every occasion indeed carry weight with them, but friendship ought to be more gentle and mild, and more inclined to all that is genial and affable.

19 There occurs here a question by no means difficult,[Footnote: Latin, subdifficilis which I should render somewhat difficult had not Cicero treat that question as one that presents no difficulty. In the ancient tongues, as in our own or even more than in our own, a word is often better defined by its use than in the dictionary.] whether at any time new friends worthy of our love are to be preferred to the old, as we are wont to prefer young horses to those that have passed their prime. Shame that there should be hesitation as to the answer! There ought to be no satiety of friendships, as there is rightly of many other things. The older a friendship is, the more precious should it be as is the case with wines that will bear keeping, [Footnote: Some of the best Italian wines will not "bear keeping," and it was probably true of more of them in Cicero's time than now that wines are so often vitiated by strong alcoholic mixtures in order to preserve them. Cato, in his De Re Rustica, prescribes a method of determining whether the wine of any given vintage will "keep".] and there is truth in the proverb that many pecks of salt must be eaten together to bring friendship to perfection. [Footnote: Aristotle quotes this as a proverbial saying, so that it must be of very great antiquity.] If new friendships offer the hope of fruit, like the young shoots in the grain-field that give promise of harvest, they are not indeed to be spurned, yet the old are to be kept in their place. There is very great power in long habit. To recur to the horse there is no one who would not rather use the horse to which he has become accustomed, if he is still sound, than one unbroken and new. Nor has habit this power merely as to the movements of an animal, it prevails no less as to inanimate objects. We are charmed with the places though mountainous and woody, [Footnote: Therefore uninviting, for mountain and forest had not in early time the charm which we find in them. Indeed the love of nature uncultivated and unadorned is for the most part, of modern growth.] where we have made a long sojourn. But what is most remarkable in friendship is that it puts a man on an equality with his inferior. For there often are in a circle of friends those who excel the rest, as was the case with Scipio in our flock, if I may use the word. He never assumed superiority over Philus, never over Rupilius, never over Mummius, never over friends of an order lower than his own. Indeed he always reverenced as a superior, because older than himself, his brother Quintus Maximus [Footnote: Quintus Fabius Maximus Aemilianus, the eldest son of Aemilius Paulus, and the adopted son of Fabius Maximus.] a thoroughly worthy man, but by no means his equal, and in fact he wanted to make all his friends of the more consequence by whatever advantages he himself possessed. This example all ought to imitate, that if they have attained any superiority of virtue, genius, fortune, they may impart it to and share it with those with whom they are the most closely connected; and that if they are of humble parentage, and have kindred of slender ability or fortune, they may increase their means of well-being, and reflect honor and worth upon them,—as in fable those who were long in servile condition through ignorance of their parentage and race, when they were recognized and found to be sons either of gods or of kings, retained their love for the shepherds whom for many years they supposed to be their fathers. Much more ought the like to be done in the case of real and well-known fathers; for the best fruit of genius, and virtue, and every kind of excellence is reaped when it is thus bestowed on near kindred and friends.

20. Moreover, as among persons bound by ties of friendship and intimacy those who hold the higher place ought to bring themselves down to the same plane with their inferiors, so ought these last not to feel aggrieved because they are surpassed in ability, or fortune, or rank by their friends. Most of them, however, are always finding some ground of complaint, or even of reproach, especially if they can plead any service that they have rendered faithfully, in a friendly way, and with a certain amount of painstaking on their part. Such men, indeed, are hateful when they reproach their friends on the score of services which he on whom they were bestowed ought to bear in mind, but which it is unbecoming for him who conferred them to recount.

Those who are superior ought, undoubtedly, not only to waive all pretension in friendly intercourse, but to do what they can to raise their humbler friends to their own level.[l] There are some who give their friends trouble by imagining that they are held in low esteem, which, however, is not apt to be the case except with those who think meanly of themselves. Those who feel thus ought to be raised to a just self-esteem, not only by kind words, but by substantial service. But what you do for any one must be measured, first by your own ability, and then by the capacity of him whom you would favor and help. For, however great your influence may be, you cannot raise all your friends to the highest positions. Thus Scipio could effect the election of Publius Rupilius to the consulship; but he could not do the same for his brother Lucius.[2] In general, friendships that are properly so called are formed between persons of mature years and established character; nor if young men have been fond of hunting or of ball-playing, is there any need of permanent attachment to those whom they then liked as associates in the same sport. On this principle our nurses and the slaves that led us to school will demand by right of priority the highest grade

[1 Or, as it might be rendered by supplying a se "so ought the humbler to do what they can to raise themselves." Some of the commentators prefer this sense; but if Cicero meant se, I think that he would have written it.]

[2 The brother of Publius Rupilius, not his own brother.]

of affectionate regard,—persons, indeed, who are not to be neglected, but who are on a somewhat different footing from that of friends. Friendships formed solely from early associations cannot last; for differences of character grow out of a diversity of pursuits, and unlikeness of character dissolves friendships. Nor is there any reason why good men cannot be the friends of bad men, or bad men of good, except that the dissiliency of pursuits and of character between them is as great as it can be.

It is also a counsel worthy of heed, that excessive fondness be not suffered to interfere, as it does too often, with important services that a friend can render. To resort again to fable, Neoptolemus could not have taken Troy [Footnote: Or rather, could not have borne the indispensable part which it was predicted that he should bear in the taking of Troy.]if he had chosen to comply with the wishes of Lycomedes, who brought him up, and who with many tears attempted to dissuade him from his expedition. Equally in actual life there are not infrequently important occasions on which the society of friends must be for a time abandoned; and he who would prevent this because he cannot easily bear the separation, is of a weak and unmanly nature, and for that very reason unfit to fill the place of a friend. In fine, in all matters you should take into consideration both what you may reasonably demand of your friend, and what you can fitly suffer him to obtain from you.

21. The misfortune involved in the dissolution of friendships is sometimes unavoidable; for I am now coming down from the intimacies of wise men to common friendships. Faults of friends often betray themselves openly—whether to the injury of their friends themselves, or of strangers—in such a way that the disgrace falls back upon their friends. Such friendships are to be effaced by the suspension of intercourse, and, as I have heard Cato say, to be unstitched rather than cut asunder, unless some quite intolerable offence flames out to full view, so that it can be neither right nor honorable not to effect an immediate separation and dissevering. But if there shall have been some change either in character or in the habits of life, or if there have sprung up some difference of opinion as to public affairs,—I am speaking, as I have just said, of common friendships, not of those between wise men,—care should be taken lest there be the appearance, not only of friendship dropped, but of enmity taken up; for nothing is more unbecoming than to wage war with a man with whom you have lived on terms of intimacy. Scipio, as you know, had withdrawn from the friendship of Quintus Pompeius [Footnote: Laelius intending to present himself as a candidate for the consulship, Scipio asked Pompeius whether he was going to be a candidate, and when he replied in the negative, asked him to use his influence in behalf of Laelius. This Pompeius promised, and then, instead of being true to his word, offered himself for the consulship, and was elected.] on my account, he became alienated from Metellus [Footnote: Scipio and Metellus, though their intimacy was suspended for political reasons, held each other in the highest regard, and no person in Rome expressed profounder sorrow than Metellus for Scipio's death or was more warm in his praise as a man of unparalleled ability, worth, and patriotism.] because of their different views as to the administration of the State. In both cases he conducted himself with gravity and dignity, and without any feeling of bitterness. The endeavor then, must first be, to prevent discord from taking place among friends, and if anything of the kind occurs, to see that the friendship may seem to be extinguished rather than crushed out. Care must thus be taken lest friendships lapse into violent enmities, whence are generated quarrels, slanders, insults, which yet, if not utterly intolerable, are to be endured and this honor tendered to old friendship that the blame may rest with him who does not with him who suffers the wrong.

The one surety and preventive against these mistakes and misfortunes is, not to form attachments too soon, nor for those unworthy of such regard. But it is those in whose very selves there is reason why they should be loved, that are worthy of friendship. A rare class of men! Indeed, superlatively excellent objects of every sort are rare, nor is anything more difficult than to discover that which is in all respects perfect in its kind. But most persons have acquired the habit of recognizing nothing as good in human relations and affairs that does not produce some revenue, and they most love those friends, as they do those cattle, that will yield them the greatest gain. Thus they lack that most beautiful and most natural friendship, which is to be sought in itself and for its own sake, nor can they know from experience what and how great is the power of such friendship. One loves himself, not in order to exact from himself any wages for such love, but because he is in himself dear to himself. Now, unless this same property be transferred to friendship, a true friend will never be found, for such a friend is, as it were, another self. But if it is seen in beasts, birds, fishes, animals tame and wild, that they first love themselves (for self-love is born with everything that lives) and that they then require and seek those of their kind to whom they may attach themselves, and do so with desire and with a certain semblance of human love, how much more is this natural in man, who both loves himself, and craves another whose soul he may so blend with his own as almost to make one out of two.

22 But men in general are so perverse, not to say shameless, as to wish a friend to be in character what they themselves could not be and they expect of friends what they do not give them in return. The proper course however, is for one first to be himself a good man, and then to seek another like himself. In such persons the stability of friendship, of which I have been speaking, can be made sure, since, united in mutual love, they will, in the first place, hold in subjection the desires to which others are enslaved; then they will find delight in whatever is equitable and just, and each will take upon himself any labor or burden in the other's stead, while neither will ever ask of the other aught that is not honorable and right. Nor will they merely cherish and love, they will even reverence each other. But he who bereaves friendship of mutual respect [1] takes from it its greatest ornament. Therefore those are in fatal error who think that in friendship there is free license for all lusts and evil practices. Friendship is given by nature, not as a companion of the vices, but as a helper of the virtues, that, as solitary virtue might not be able to attain the summit of excellence, united and associated with another it might reach that eminence. As to those between whom there is, or has been, or shall be such an alliance, the fellowship is to be regarded as the best and happiest possible, inasmuch as it leads to the highest good that nature can bestow. This is the alliance, I say, in which are included all things that men think worthy their endeavor,—honor, fame, peace of mind, and pleasure, so that if these be present life is happy, and cannot be happy without them. Such a life being the best

[1 Latin, verecundio, an indefinite word; for it may have almost any good meaning. I have rendered it respect, because I have no doubt that it derives its meaning here from verebuntur, which I have rendered reverence, in the preceding sentence.]

and greatest boon, if we wish to make it ours, we must devote ourselves to the cultivation of virtue, without which we can attain neither friendship nor anything else desirable. But if virtue be left out of the account, those who think that they have friends perceive that they are mistaken when some important crisis compels them to put their friends to the test. Therefore—for it is worth reiterating—you ought to love after having exercised your judgment on your friends, instead of forming your judgment of them after you have begun to love them. But while in many things we are chargeable with carelessness, we are most so in choosing and keeping our friends. We reverse the old proverb, [Footnote: What this proverb may have been we cannot determine with precision from its opposite; but the caution based upon it might remind one of our proverb about shutting the barn door after the horse is stolen. The words, acta agimus, so terse that they can be translated only by a paraphrase, are probably the converse of the proverb, which may have been something like non agenda sunt acta.] take counsel after acting, and attempt to do over again what we have done; for after having become closely connected by long habit and even by mutual services, some occasion of offence springs up, and we suddenly break in sunder a friendship in full career.

23. The more blameworthy are they who are so very careless in a matter of so essential importance. Indeed, among things appertaining to human life, it is friendship alone that has the unanimous voice of all men as to its capacity of service. By many even virtue is scorned, and is said to be a mere matter of display and ostentation. Many despise wealth, and contented with little take pleasure in slender diet and inexpensive living. Though some are inflamed with desire for office, many there are who hold it in so low esteem that they can imagine nothing more inane or worthless. Other things too, which seem to some admirable, very many regard as of no value. But all have the same feeling as to friendship,— alike those who devote themselves to the public service, those who take delight in learning and philosophy, those who manage their own affairs in a quiet way, and, lastly, those who are wholly given up to sensual pleasure. They all agree that without friendship life cannot be, if one only means to live in some form or measure respectably. [Footnote: Latin liberaliter that is, worthily of a free man.] For friendship somehow twines through all lives and leaves no mode of being without its presence. Even if one be of so rude and savage a nature as to shun and hate the society of men, as we have learned was the case with that Timon of Athens, [Footnote: Plutarch says that Timon had an associate, virtually a friend, not unlike himself, Apemantus, on whom he freely vented his spite and scorn for all the world beside and that he also took a special liking to Alcibiades in his youth, perhaps as to one fitted and destined to do an untold amount of mischief.] if there ever was such a man [Footnote: Latin, nescio, quem, I know not whom, or of whom I am ignorant, that is, there may or may not have been such a man.] he yet cannot help seeking some one in whose presence he may vomit the venom of his bitterness. The need of friendship would be best shown, were such a thing possible, if some god should take us away from this human crowd, and place us anywhere in solitude, giving us there an abundant supply of all things that nature craves but depriving us utterly of the sight of a human countenance. Who could be found of so iron make that he could endure [Footnote: Latin, tam ... ferreus, qiu ... ferre posset,—an assonance which cannot be represented by corresponding English words.] such a life, and whom solitude would not render incapable of enjoying any kind of pleasure? That is true then which, if I remember aright, our elders used to say that they had heard from their seniors in age as having come from Archytas of Tarentum—"If one had ascended to heaven and had obtained a full view of the nature of the universe and the beauty of the stars, yet his admiration would be without delight, if there were no one to whom he could tell what he had seen" Thus Nature has no love for solitude, and always leans as it were, on some support, and the sweetest support is found in the most intimate friendship.

24 But while Nature declares by so many tokens what she desires, craves, needs, we—I know not how—grow deaf, and fail to hear her counsel.

Intercourse among friends assumes many different forms and modes, and there frequently arise causes of suspicion and offence, which it is the part of a wise man sometimes to avoid, sometimes to remove, sometimes to bear. One ground of offence, namely, freedom in telling the truth, must be put entirely away, in order that friendship may retain its serviceableness and its good faith, for friends often need to be admonished and reproved, and such offices, when kindly performed, ought to be received in a friendly way. Yet somehow we witness in actual life, what my friend [Footnote: Terence with whom Laelius was so intimate that he was reported probably on no sufficient ground to have aided in the composition of some of the plays that bear Terence's name. This verse is from the Andria.] says in his play of Andria—

"Complacency *[Footnote: Obsequium] wins friends, but truth gives birth to hatred."

Truth is offensive, if hatred, the bane of friendship is indeed born of it, but much more offensive is complacency, when in its indulgence for wrong doing it suffers a friend to go headlong to ruin. The greatest blame, however, rests on him who both spurns the truth when it is told him and is driven by the complacency of friends to self-deception. In this matter therefore there should be the utmost discretion and care, first, that admonition be without bitterness, then, that reproof be without invective. But in complacency—for I am ready to use the word which Terence furnishes—let pleasing truth be told, let flattery, the handmaid of the vices be put far away, as unworthy, not only of a friend, but of any man above the condition of a slave, for there is one way of living with a tyrant, another with a friend. We may well despair of saving him whose ears are so closed to the truth that he cannot hear what is true from a friend. Among the many pithy sayings of Cato was this 'There are some who owe more to their bitter enemies than to the friends that seem sweet, for those often tell the truth, these never'. It is indeed ridiculous for those who are admonished not to be annoyed by what ought to trouble them, and to be annoyed by what ought to give them no offence. Their faults give them no pain, they take it hard that they are reproved,—while they ought, on the contrary, to be grieved for their wrong-doing, to rejoice in their correction.

25 As, then, it belongs to friendship both to admonish and to be admonished, and to do the former freely, yet not harshly, to receive the latter patiently not resentfully, so it is to be maintained that friendship has no greater pest than adulation, flattery, subserviency, for under its many names [Footnote: Latin multis nominibus, which some commentators render "on many accounts" with reference to matters of purchase and sale, debit and credit. But I think that Cicero brings in adulatio, blanditia, and assentatio, as so many synonyms of obsequtum, intending to comprehend in his indictment whatever alias the one vice may assume.] a brand should be put on this vice of fickle and deceitful men, who say everything with the view of giving pleasure, without any reference to the truth. While simulation is bad on every account, inasmuch as it renders the discernment of the truth which it defaces impossible, it is most of all inimical to friendship; for it is fatal to sincerity, without which the name of friendship ceases to have any meaning. For since the essence of friendship consists in this, that one mind is, as it were, made out of seveial, how can this be, if in one of the several there shall be not always one and the same mind, but a mind varying, changeful, manifold? And what can be so flexible, so far out of its rightful course, as the mind of him who adapts himself, not only to the feelings and wishes, but een to the look and gesture, of another?

"Does one say No or Yes? I say so too My rule is to assent to everything,"

as Terence, whom I have just quoted, says, but he says it in the person of Gnatho,[Footnote: A parasite in Terence's play of Eunuchus, from which these verses are quoted.]—a sort of friend which only a frivolous mind can tolerate. But as there are many like Gnatho, who stand higher than he did in place, fortune, and reputation, then subserviency is the more offensive, because then position gives weight to their falsehood.

But a flattering friend may be distinguished and discriminated from a true friend by proper care, as easily as everything disguised and feigned is seen to differ from what is genuine and real. The assembly of the people, though consisting of persons who have the least skill in judgment, yet always knows the difference between him who, merely seeking popularity, is sycophantic and fickle, and a firm inflexible, and substantial citizen. With what soft words did Caius Papirius [Footnote: Caius Papirius Carbo, the suspected murderer of Scipio.] steal [Footnote: Latin influebat flowed in, a figure beautifully appropriate, but hardly translatable.] into the ears of the assembly a little while ago, when he brought forward the law about the re-election of the tribunes of the people! [Footnote: There was an old law, which prohibited the re-election of a citizen to the same office till after an interval of ten years. In the law here referred to, Carbo—then tribune —sought to provide for the re-election of tribunes as soon and as often as the people might choose, thus undoubtedly hoping to secure for himself a permanent tenure of office.] I opposed the law. But, to say nothing of myself, I will rather speak of Scipio. How great, ye immortal gods, was his dignity of bearing! What majesty of address! So that you might easily call him the leader of the Roman people, rather than one of their number. But you were there, and you have copies of his speech. Thus the law was rejected by vote of the people. But, to return to myself, you remember, when Quintus Maximus, Scipio's brother, and Lucius Mancinus were Consuls, how much the people seemed to favor the law of Caius Licinius Crassus about the priests. The law proposed to transfer the election of priests from their own respective colleges to the suffrage of the people; [Footnote: The several pontifical colleges had been close corporations, filling their own vacancies. The law which Laelius defeated proposed transferring the election of priests to the people.] and he on that occasion introduced the custom of facing the people in addressing them [Footnote: It had been customary, when the Senate was in session, for him who harangued the people to face the temple where the Senate sat, thus virtually recognizing the supreme authority of that body.] Yet under my advocacy the religion of the immortal gods obtained the ascendancy over his plausible speech. That was during my praetorship, five years before I was chosen Consul. Thus the cause was gained by its own merits rather than by official authority.

26. But if on the stage, or—what is the same thing—in the assembly of the people, in which there is ample scope for false and distorted representations, the truth only needs to be made plain and clear in order for it to prevail, what ought to be the case in friendship, which is entirely dependent for its value on truth,—in which unless, as the phrase is, you see an open bosom and show your own, you can have nothing worthy of confidence, nothing of which you can feel certain, not even the fact of your loving or being loved, since you are ignorant of what either really is? Yet this flattery of which I have spoken, harmful as it is, can injure only him who takes it in and is delighted with it. Thus it is the case that he is most ready to open his ear to flattery, who flatters himself and finds supreme delight in himself. Virtue indeed loves itself; for it has thorough knowledge of itself, and understands how worthy of love it is. But it is reputed, not real, virtue of which I am now speaking; for there are not so many possessed of virtue as there are that desire to seem virtuous. These last are delighted with flattery, and when false statements are framed purposely to satisfy and please them, they take the falsehood as valid testimony to their merit. That, however, is no friendship, in which one of the (so-called) friends does not want to hear the truth, and the other is ready to lie. The flattery of parasites on the stage would not seem amusing, were there not in the play braggart soldiers [Footnote: Latin, milites gloriosi. Miles Gloriosus is the title of one of the comedies of Plautus; and one of the stock characters of the ancient comedy is a conceited, swaggering, brainless soldier, who is perpetually boasting of his own valor and exploits, and who takes the most fulsome and ridiculous flattery as the due recognition of his transcendent merit. The verse here quoted is from Terence's Eunuchus. Thraso, a miles gloriosus (from whom is derived our adjective thrasonical), asks this question of Gnatho, the parasite, one of whose speeches is quoted in S 25. Magnus is the word in the question; ingentes, in the answer.] to be flattered.

"Great thanks indeed did Thais render to me?"

"Great" was a sufficient answer; but the answer in the play is "Prodigious." The flatterer always magnifies what he whom he is aiming to please wishes to have great. But while this smooth falsehood takes effect only with those who themselves attract and invite it; even persons of a more substantial and solid character need to be warned to be on their guard, lest they be ensnared by flattery of a more cunning type. No one who has a moderate share of common-sense fails to detect the open flatterer; but great care must be taken lest the wily and covert flatterer may insinuate himself; for he is not very easily recognized, since he often assents by opposing, plays the game of disputing in a smooth, caressing way, and at length submits, and suffers himself to be outreasoned, so as to make him on whom he is practising his arts appear to have had the deeper insight. But what is more disgraceful than to be made game of? One must take heed not to put himself in the condition of the character in the play of The Heiress: [Footnote: Epicleros, a comedy by Caecilius Statius, of whose works only a few fragments, like this, are extant. Next to the braggart soldier, a credulous old man-generally a father-who could have all manner of tricks played upon him without detecting their import, was the favorite butt for ridicule in the ancient comedy.]

"Of an old fool one never made such sport As you have made of me this very day;"

for there is no character on the stage so foolish as that of these unwary and credulous old men. But I know not how my discourse has digressed from the friendships of perfect, that is, of wise men,—wise, I mean, so far as wisdom can fall to the lot of man,—to friendships of a lighter sort. Let us then return to our original subject, and bring it to a speedy conclusion.

27. Virtue, I say to you, Caius Fannius, and to you, Quintus Mucius,— virtue both forms and preserves friendships. In it is mutual agreement; in it is stability; in it is consistency of conduct and character. When it has put itself forth and shown its light, and has seen and recognized the same light in another, it draws near to that light, and receives in return what the other has to give; and from this intercourse love, or friendship,—call it which you may,—is kindled. These terms are equally derived in our language from loving; [Footnote: Amor...amicitia...ab amando.] and to love is nothing else than to cherish affection for him whom you love, with no felt need of his service, with no quest of benefit to be obtained from him; while, nevertheless, serviceableness blooms out from friendship, however little you may have had it in view. With this affection I in my youth loved those old men,—Lucius Paulus, Marcus Cato, Caius Gallus, Publius Nasica, Tiberius Gracchus, the father-in-law of my friend Scipio. This relation is more conspicuous among those of the same age, as between myself and Scipio, Lucius Furius, Publius Rupilius, Spurius Mummius. But in my turn, as an old man, I find repose in the attachment of young men, as in yours, and in that of Quintus Tubero, and I am delighted with the intimacy of Publius Rutilius and Aulus Virginius, who are just emerging from boyhood. While the order of human life and of nature is such that another generation must come upon the stage, it would be most desirable, could such a thing be, to reach the goal, so to speak, with those of our own age with whom we started on the race; but since man's life is frail and precarious, we ought always to be in quest of some younger persons whom we may love, and who will love us in return; for when love and kindness cease all enjoyment is taken out of life.

For me indeed, Scipio, though suddenly snatched away, still lives and will always live; for I loved the virtue of the man, which is not extinguished. Nor does it float before my eyes only, as I have always had it at hand; it will also be renowned and illustrious with generations to come. No one will ever enter with courage and hope on a high and noble career, without proposing to himself as a standard the memory and image of his virtue. Indeed, of all things which fortune or nature ever gave me, I have nothing that I can compare with the friendship of Scipio. In this there was a common feeling as to the affairs of the State; in this, mutual counsel as to our private concerns; in this, too, a repose full of delight. Never, so far as I know, did I offend him in the least thing; never did I hear from him a word which I would not wish to hear. We had one home; [Footnote: This may refer to their living together on their campaigns, journeys, and rural sojourns; but more probably to the fact that each felt as much at home in the other's house as in his own.] the same diet, and that simple; [Footnote: Latin, communis. I do not find that this word has in Latin the sense of cheap and mean which our word common has. But here it cannot mean that Laelius and Scipio fed together, which is sufficiently said in the preceding idem victus. It must therefore denote such fare as was common to them with their fellow-citizens in general, and that is simple and not luxurious fare.] we were together, not only in military service, but also in journeying and in our rural sojourns. And what shall I say of our unflagging zeal in the pursuit of knowledge, and in learning everything now within our reach,—an employment in which, when not under the eyes of the public, we passed all our leisure time together? Had the recollection and remembrance of these things died with him, I could not anyhow bear the loss of a man, thus bound to me in the closest intimacy and holding me in the dearest love. But they are not blotted out, they are rather nourished and increased by reflection and memory; and were I entirely bereft of them, my advanced age would still be my great comfort, for I can miss his society but for a brief season, and all sorrows, however heavy, if they can last but a little while, ought to be endured.

I had these things to say to you about friendship; and I exhort you that you so give the foremost place to virtue without which friendship cannot be, that with the sole exception of virtue, you may think nothing to be preferred to friendship.

SCIPIO'S DREAM.

1. When I arrived in Africa, to serve, as you know, in the office of military Tribune of the fourth Legion, under Manius [Footnote: The praenomen Marcus is given to Manilius in the manuscript of the De Republics discovered by Angelo Mai; but Manius is the reading in all previous authorities as to this special fragment.] Manilius as consul, I desired nothing so much as to meet Masinissa [Footnote: King of Numidia,—a country nearly identical in extent with the present province of Algeria. Its name defines its people, being derived from [Greek: nomades], nomads. Its inhabitants were a wild, semi-savage cluster of tribes, black and white. Masinissa, though faithful to the Romans after he had convinced himself that theirs must be the ascendant star, was a crafty, treacherous, cruel prince, probably with enough of civilization to have acquired some of its vices, while he had not lost those of the savage.] the king, who for sufficient reasons [Footnote: The elder Africanus had confirmed him in the possession of his own Numidia, and had added to it the adjoining kingdom of Cirta.] stood in the most friendly relation to our family. When I came to him, the old man embraced me with tears, and shortly afterward looked up to heaven and said: "I thank thee, sovereign Sun, [Footnote: The Numidians worshipped the heavenly bodies.] and all of you lesser lights of heaven, that before I pass away from this life I behold in my kingdom and beneath this roof Publius Cornelius Scipio, whose very name renews my strength, so utterly inseparable from my thought is the memory of that best and most invincible of men who first bore it." Then I questioned him about his kingdom, and he asked me about our republic; and with the many things that we had to communicate to each other, the day wore away.

At a later hour, after an entertainment of royal magnificence, we prolonged our conversation far into the night, while the old man talked to me about nothing else but Africanus, rehearsing not only all that he had done, but all that he had said. When we parted to go to our rest, sleep took a stronger hold on me than usual, on account both of the fatigue of my journey and of the lateness of the hour. In my sleep, I suppose in consequence of our conversation (for generally our thoughts and utterances by day have in our sleep an effect like that which Ennius describes in his own case as to Homer, [Footnote: The first verse of the Annales of Ennius was:—

"In somnis mihi visus Homerus adesse poeta."]

about whom in his waking hours he was perpetually thinking and talking), Africanus appeared to me, with an aspect that reminded me more of his bust than of his real face. I shuddered when I saw him. But he said: "Preserve your presence of mind, Scipio; be not afraid, and commit to memory what I shall say to you.

2. "Do you see that city, which was brought through me into subjection to the Roman people, but now renews its old hostility, and cannot remain quiet,"—and he showed me Carthage from a high place full of stars, shining and splendid,—"against which you, being little more than a common soldier, are coming to fight? In two years from now you as Consul will overthrow this city, and you will obtain of your own right the surname which up to this time you hold as inherited from me. When you shall have destroyed Carthage, shall have celebrated your triumph over it, shall have been Censor, and shall have traversed, as an ambassador, Egypt, Syria, Asia, and Greece, you will be chosen a second time Consul in your absence, and will put an end to one of the greatest of wars by extirpating Numantia. But when you shall be borne to the Capitol in your triumphal chariot after this war, you will find the State disturbed by the machinations of my grandson. [Footnote: Tiberius Gracchus, whose mother, Cornelia, was the daughter of the elder Africanus.]

"In this emergency, Africanus, it will behoove you to show your country the light of your energy, genius, and wisdom. But I see at that time, as it were, a double way of destiny. For when your age shall have followed the sun for eight times seven revolutions, and these two numbers [Footnote: The Pythagoreans regarded seven as the number representing light, and eight as representing love. Seven was also a perfect number, as corresponding to the number of celestial orbits (including the sun, the moon, and the five known planets), the number of days in the quarter of the moon's revolution, and the number of the gates of sense (so to speak), mouth, eyes, ears, and nostrils. Eight was a perfect number, as being first after unity on the list of cubes; and Plato in the Timaeus speaks of eight celestial revolutions—including that of the earth—as unequal in duration and velocity, but as forming, in some unexplained way, a cycle synchronous with the year.]—each perfect, though for different reasons—shall have completed for you in the course of nature the destined period, to you alone and to your name the whole city will turn; on you the Senate will look, on you all good citizens, on you the allies, on you the Latini. You will he the one man on whom the safety of the city will rest; and, to say no more, you, as Dictator, must re- establish the State, if you escape the impious hands of your kindred." [Footnote: See De Amicitia S 3, note.] Here, when Laelius had cried out, and the rest of the company had breathed deep sighs, Scipio, smiling pleasantly upon them, said, "I beg you not to rouse me from sleep and break up my vision. Hear the remainder of it."

3. "But that you, Africanus, may be the more prompt in the defence of the State, know that for all who shall have preserved, succored, enlarged their country, there is a certain and determined place in heaven where they enjoy eternal happiness; for to the Supreme God who governs this whole universe nothing is more pleasing than those companies and unions of men that are called cities. Of these the rulers and preservers, going hence, return hither."

Here I, although I had been alarmed, not indeed so much by the fear of death as by that of the treachery of my own kindred, yet asked whether Paulus, my father, and others whom we supposed to be dead were living. "Yes, indeed," he replied, "those who have fled from the bonds of the body, like runners from the goal, live; while what is called your life is death. But do you see your father Paulus coming to you?" When I saw him, I shed a flood of tears; but he, embracing and kissing me, forbade my weeping.

Then as soon as my tears would suffer me to speak, I began by saying, "Most sacred and excellent father, since this is life, as Africanus tells me, why do I remain on the earth, and not rather hasten to come to you?" "Not so," said he; "for unless the God who has for his temple all that you now behold, shall have freed you from this prison of the body, there can be no entrance for you hither. Men have indeed been brought into being on this condition, that they should guard the globe which you see in the midst of this temple, which is called the earth; and a soul has been given to them from those eternal fires which you call constellations and stars, which, globed and round, animated with god- derived minds, complete their courses and move through their orbits with amazing speed. You, therefore, Publius, and all rightly disposed men are bound to retain the soul in the body's keeping, nor without the command of him who gave it to you to depart from the life appointed for man, lest you may seem to have taken flight from human duty as assigned by God. But, Scipio, like this your grandfather, [Footnote: By adoption. The younger Africanus was adopted by a son of the elder.] like me, your father, cherish justice and that sacred observance of duty to your kind, which, while of great worth toward parents and family, is of supreme value toward your country. Such a life is the way to heaven, and to this assembly of those who have already lived, and, released from the body, inhabit the place which you now see,"—it was that circle that shines forth among the stars in the most dazzling white,—"which you have learned from the Greeks to call the Milky Way." And as I looked on every side I saw other things transcendently glorious and wonderful. There were stars which we never see from here below, and all the stars were vast far beyond what we have ever imagined. The least of them was that which, farthest from heaven, nearest to the earth, shone with a borrowed light. But the starry globes very far surpassed the earth in magnitude. The earth itself indeed looked to me so small as to make me ashamed of our empire, which was a mere point on its surface.

4. While I was gazing more intently on the earth, Africanus said: "How long, I pray you, will your mind be fastened on the ground? Do you not see into the midst of what temples you have come? In your sight are nine orbs, or rather globes, by which all things are held together. One is the celestial, the outermost, embracing all the rest,—the Supreme God himself, [Footnote: Here crops out the Pantheism—the non-detachment or semi-detachment of God from nature—which casts a penumbra around monotheism and the approaches to it, almost always, except under Hebrew and Christian auspices.] who governs and keeps in their places the other spheres. In this are fixed those stars which ever roll in an unchanging course. Beneath this are seven spheres which have a retrograde movement, opposite to that of the heavens. One of these is the domain of the star which on earth they call Saturn. Next is the luminary which bears the name of Jupiter, of prosperous and healthful omen to the human race; then, the star of fiery red which you call Mars, and which men regard with terror. Beneath, the Sun holds nearly the midway space, [Footnote: The middle, as the fifth of the nine spheres, enclosed by four; and enclosing four.] leader, prince, and ruler of the other lights, the mind and regulating power of the universe, so vast as to illuminate and flood all things with his light. Him, as his companions, Venus and Mercury follow on their different courses; and in a sphere still lower the moon revolves, lighted by the rays of the sun. Beneath this there is nothing that is not mortal and perishable, except the souls bestowed upon the human race by the gift of the gods. Above the moon all things are eternal. The earth, which is the central and ninth sphere, has no motion, and is the lowest [Footnote: The lowest because central, and therefore farthest from the outermost or celestial sphere.] of all, and all heavy bodies gravitate spontaneously toward it."

5. When I had recovered from my amazement at these things I asked, "What is this sound so strong and so sweet that fills my ears?" "This," he replied, "is the melody which, at intervals unequal, yet differing in exact proportions, is made by the impulse and motion of the spheres themselves, which, softening shriller by deeper tones, produce a diversity of regular harmonies. Nor can such vast movements be urged on in silence; and by the order of nature the shriller notes sound from one extreme of the universe, the deeper from the other. Thus yonder supreme celestial sphere with its clustered stars, as it revolves more rapidly, moves with a shrill and quick strain; this lower sphere of the moon sends forth deeper notes; while the earth, the ninth sphere, remaining motionless, [Footnote: Therefore without sound. ] always stands fixed in the lowest place, occupying the centre of the universe. But these eight revolutions, of which two, those of Mercury and Venus, are in unison, make seven distinct tones, with measured intervals between, and almost all things are arranged in sevens. [Footnote: Latin, qui numerus (that is, septem) rerum omnium fere nodus est. Literally, "which number is the knot of almost everything." The more intelligible form in which I have rendered these words seems to me to convey their true meaning, and my belief to that effect is confirmed by reading what several commentators say about the passage.] Skilled men, copying this harmony with strings and voice, have opened for themselves a way back to this place, as have others who with excelling genius have cultivated divine sciences in human life. But the ears of men are deafened by being filled with this melody; nor is there in you mortals a duller sense than that of hearing. As where the Nile at the Falls of Catadupa pours down from the loftiest mountains, the people who live hard by lack the sense of hearing because of the loudness of the cataract, so this harmony of the whole universe in its intensely rapid movement is so loud that men's ears cannot take it in, even as you cannot look directly at the sun, and the keenness and visual power of the eye are overwhelmed by its rays." While I marvelled at these things, I ever and anon cast my eyes again upon the earth.

6. Then Africanus said: "I perceive that you are now fixing your eyes on the abode and home of men, and if it seems to you small, as it really is, then look always at these heavenly things, and despise those earthly. For what reputation from the speech of men, or what fame worth seeking, can you obtain? You see that the inhabited places of the earth are scattered and of small extent, that in the spots [Footnote: Latin, maculis,—a figure so bold in Cicero's time as to need an apology for its use, but now employed with no consciousness of its being otherwise than strictly literal.]—so to speak—where men dwell there are vast solitary tracts interposed, and that those who live on the earth are not only so separated that no communication can pass from place to place, but stand, in part at an oblique angle, in part at a right angle with you, in part even in an opposite direction; [Footnote: It hardly needs to be said, that the reference here is to the convex surface of the earth, on which those remote from one another may hold all the various angles to each other that are borne by the spokes of a wheel.] and from these you certainly can anticipate no fame.

"You perceive also that this same earth is girded and surrounded by belts, two of which—the farthest from each other, and each resting at one extremity on the very pole of the heavens—you see entirely frost- bound; while the middle and largest of them burns under the sun's intensest heat. Two of them are habitable, of which the southern, whose inhabitants are your antipodes, bears no relation to your people; and see how small a part they occupy in this other northern zone, in which you dwell. For all of the earth with which you have any concern—narrow at the north and south, broader in its central portion—is a mere little island, surrounded by that sea which you on earth call the Atlantic, the Great Sea, the Ocean, while yet, with such a name, you see how small it is. To speak only of these cultivated and well-known regions, could your name even cross this Caucasus which you have in view, or swim beyond that Ganges? Who, in what other lands may lie in the extreme east or west, or under northern or southern skies, will ever hear your name? All these cut off, you surely see within what narrow bounds your fame can seek to spread. Then, too, as regards the very persons who tell of your renown, how long will they speak of it?

7. "But even if successive generations should desire to transmit the praise of every one of us from father to son in unbroken succession, yet because of devastations by flood and fire, which will of necessity take place at a determined time, we must fail of attaining not only eternal fame, but even that of very long duration. Now of what concern is it that those who shall be born hereafter should speak of you, when you were spoken of by none who were born before you, who were not fewer, and certainly were better men?—especially, too, when among those who might hear our names there is not one that can retain the memories of a single year. Men, indeed, ordinarily measure the year only by the return of the sun, that is, one star, to its place; but when all the stars, after long intervals, shall resume their original places in the heavens, then that completed revolution may be truly called a year. As of old the sun seemed to be eclipsed and blotted out when the soul of Romulus entered these temples, so when the sun shall be again eclipsed in the same part of his course, and at the same period of the year and day, with all the constellations and stars recalled to the point from which they started on their revolutions, then count the year as brought to a close. [Footnote: The Stoics maintained that the visible universe would last through such a cycle as is here described, which in their conjectural astronomy comprehended many thousands of years, and then would be consumed by fire, or somehow be reduced to chaos, and a new universe take its place.] But be assured that the twentieth part of this year has not yet come round.

"Therefore, should you renounce the hope of returning to this place in which are all things that great and excellent men can desire, of what worth is that human glory which can scarcely extend to a small part of a single year? If, then, you shall determine to look high up, and to behold continuously this dwelling and eternal home, you will neither give yourself to the flattery of the people, nor place your hope of well-being on rewards that man can bestow. Let Virtue herself by her own charms draw you to true honor. What others may say of you, regard as their concern, not yours. They will doubtless talk about you, but all that they say is confined within the narrow limits of the regions which you now see; nor did such speech as to any one ever last on into eternity,—it is buried with those who die, and lost in oblivion for those who may come afterward."

8. When he had spoken thus, I said, "O Africanus, if indeed for those who have deserved well of their country there is, as it were, an open road by which they may enter heaven, though from boyhood treading in my father's steps and yours, I have done no discredit to your fame, I yet shall now strive to that end with a more watchful diligence." And he replied: "Strive [Footnote: Or, you will strive indeed.] indeed, and bear this in mind, that it is not you that are mortal, but your body only. Nor is it you whom this outward form makes manifest; but every man's mind is he,—not the bodily shape which can be pointed at by the finger. Know also that you are a god, if he indeed is a god who lives, who perceives, who remembers, who foresees, who governs and restrains and moves the body over which he is made ruler even as the Supreme God holds the universe under his sway; and in truth as the eternal God himself moves the universe which is mortal in every part, so does the everlasting soul move the corruptible body.

"That, indeed, which is in perpetual movement is eternal; but that which, while imparting motion to some other substance, derives its own movement from some other source, must of necessity cease to live when it ceases to move. Then that alone which is the cause of its own motion, because it is never deserted by itself, never has its movement suspended. But for other substances that are moved this is the source, the first cause, [Footnote: Latin, principium.] of movement. But the first cause has no origin; for all things spring from the first cause: itself, from nothing. That indeed would not be a first cause which derived its beginning from anything else; and if it has no beginning, it never ceases to be. For the first cause, if extinct, will neither itself be born again from aught else, nor will it create aught else from itself, if indeed all things must of necessity originate from the first cause. Thus it is that the first cause of motion is derived from that which is in its nature self-moving; but this can neither be born nor die. Were it to die, the whole heaven would of necessity collapse, and all nature would stand still, nor could it find any force which could be set in movement anew from a primitive impulse. [Footnote: From a first cause; the first cause, by hypothesis, having ceased to be.]

9. "Since, then, that which is the source of its own movement is manifestly eternal, who is there that can deny that this nature has been given to the soul? For whatever is moved by external impulse is soulless; [Footnote: Latin, inanimum.] but whatever has a soul [Footnote: Latin, animal. My renderings of inanimum and animal here, if not justified by any parallel instances (and I know not whether they are), are required by the obvious meaning of the sentence.] is stirred to action by movement inward and its own; for this is the peculiar nature and virtue of the soul. Moreover, if it is this alone of all things that is the source of its own movement, it certainly did not begin to be, and is eternal. "This soul I bid you to exercise in the best pursuits, and the best are your cares for your country's safety, by which if your soul be kept in constant action and exercise, it will have the more rapid flight to this its abode and home. This end it will attain the more readily, if, while it shall be shut up in the body, it shall peer forth, and, contemplating those things that are beyond, abstract itself as far as possible from the body. For the souls of those who have surrendered themselves to the pleasures of the body, have yielded themselves to their service, and, obeying them under the impulse of sensual lusts, have transgressed the laws of gods and men, when they pass out of their bodies are tossed to and fro around the earth, nor return to this place till they have wandered in banishment for many ages."

He departed; I awoke from sleep.

THE END