account between what was saved by the liberal, and what was destroyed by the ignorant or bigoted zealot-between the copies made and the MSS. effaced by monks and priests? At all events, a general search-warrant ought to go forth against every inch of parchment occupied by the Gregorys and the Ambroses, the Jeromes and the Chrysostoms. There is probable cause enough for this grand conceptio furti. And notwithstanding all that Gibbon says to reconcile us to the supposed destruction of the Alexandrian library by the Saracens, we must still be permitted to express the strongest desire to see these inquiries prosecuted with success. Conceding that with some few exceptions, the most celebrated writers of antiquity have been preserved to us, yet what valuable-what boundless stores of information may, nay, must be buried in the compositions of those of less note! The works of mere erudition-the thesauri and the bibliothecæ-the voluminous collections of plodding compilers-what would they not do to clear up the doubtful passages in the history of those times, and to expose the futility of many learned conjectures in ours? What should we not gain, for instance, (to go no further) by the discovery of the works of Varro, and the Origines of Cato? And how refreshing would it be to the hearts and the eyes of scholars, to witness the resurrection of Menander and Alcæus-to see them restored to the freshness and vigour of a renovated life, after so many centuries passed in oblivion and darkness, like wounded warriors upon some battle-ground, disengaged by a lucky chance from the heaps, and rescued from the grave of the slain-or to make our simile more pointed, like Er the Armenian, in the sublime rhapsody of Plato, snatched from the funeral pile, to reveal the visions of that deep and perilous trance, and gladden the witnesses of his resuscitation with a bright and ravishing dream of elysium and of immortality.

This first discovery of Mai is unfortunately little better than an earnest of what we may expect in future. It is a mere torso— a deformed and mutilated fragment. Including all the scraps preserved by the grammarians and the Fathers, we are presented with a paltry duodecimo of a hundred and forty pages. Of these, the two first books, which are in a far better state of preservation than the others, occupy a hundred and eight. But even they are horribly maimed and disfigured. Every discussion ends in a hiatus, and the reader is scarcely warmed with one subject, before he is compelled to give it up and betake him to some other to just as little purpose. According to the conjectures of the learned editor, not fewer than a hundred and twenty or a hundred and thirty pages are lost of these two books

alone. All that remains of the third are a few sentences from Nonius and Priscian, and two paragraphs from St. Augustin de Civitate Dei. The fourth and fifth are made up of much the same sort of materials, and fill together about sixteen pages. Of the sixth, scarcely any thing is preserved but that noble fragment, the Somnium Scipionis, for which we are indebted to Macrobius, and which has long been the admiration and delight of scholars. It is manifestly impossible to form a satisfactory estimate of the merits of the work, from such a remnant, and those writers who have not scrupled to express their dissatisfaction with the whole treatise, because the discovery of Mai has not been as complete as it might have been, are surely emulous of the wiseacre in Hierocles, showing about his brick as a sample of a house. It is certain at least, that the opinions of those who saw the work in its perfect state, do not agree with the dogmatical divination of these writers. Cicero himself is known to have set the highest value upon this treatise, to which he frequently refers in his other works, with an evident complacency and predilection.

One cause of complaint particularly dwelt upon is, that the author repeats the early legends of Rome without any appearance of incredulity. Mr. Niebuhr, no doubt, flattered himself with the hope of finding all his scepticism justified by this treatise. The contrary has been the fact. There are some passages in this dialogue which shew the general belief of the educated people of those times, as well as the grounds upon which it was founded, to have been far stronger than is altogether consistent with the sweeping scepticism of the present day. Thus, in the thirty-first chapter of the second book, the books of the Pontiffs, and those of the augurs, are referred to as evidence that under the royal government an appeal lay from the king to the people. So in the fifteenth chapter of the same book, Manilius asks Scipio whether he believes the tradition that Numa was a pupil of Pythagoras. The other replies with great confidence, that it was a mere figment, the fact being not only not at all probable, but even demonstrably impossible. He then proceeds to state the reasons of his opinion, and shews that as to the order of succession, the length of the reigns, &c. no doubt was entertained among people of the better sort at Rome. Atticus had written an abstract or epitome of Roman history from the foundation of the city, in which, says Cicero, he has omitted no events of importance, and has arranged them all in the most accurate chronological order, through a period of seven hundred years.* The orator speaks * Brutus, 34.

of this compilation as saving him a great deal of trouble-indeed, as entirely superseding the necessity of his going into the same inquiry again. Atticus, therefore, took the same view of the Roman history that Cicero does. There are many legends of the earlier times, which our author considers as altogether fabulous-such, for example, as the appearance of Castor and Pollux at the battle of Regillus. But he seems to entertain no doubt of the great bulk of his country's annals. He even speaks (in the person of Scipio) of the apotheosis of Romulus, as being the more remarkable, inasmuch as it took place only six hundred years before, and in an enlightened and inquisitive age.* There is a single sentence in the fragment before us, wherein he is supposed to admit that no reliance can be placed on the early annals of Rome. Speaking of Ancus Martius, Lælius observes, that the history of their country was obscure, for, he continues, we know who was the mother of that king, but not who was his father. To this, Scipio makes the following reply. "Ita est; sed temporum illorum tantum fere regum illustrata sunt nomina." That is to say, as we translate it, generally speaking the names of the kings only in those times, were illustrious enough to be transmitted to posterity. There are those who lay the emphasis on the word nomina, and who construe the sentence as importing that nothing was known in those times but the names of the kings, all the recorded transactions, civil and military of their reigns, being entirely apocryphal. We think the context calls for the construction we put upon the words, while any other would be wholly irreconcileable with the passages already referred to. We need not add, that we are by no means disposed to make the early history of Rome an article of faith. We know that some of the evidence upon which we should have to depend, is very irregular and exceptionable-not unlike that upon which the Knight of La Mancha rests his belief in the existence of the venerable Doña Quintañona,t that is to say, such as might be adduced, not unplausibly, to establish the æra and exploits of those renowned worthies, Tom Thumb and Jack the Giant Killer. But when we find what is said to be mere popular tradition, adopted by Cicero and Atticus, who, it is probable, only followed the Catos and the Varros, we cannot but hesitate before we pronounce that there was no truth at all in it. We take it that Livy states the

* Lib. ii. c. 10, de Rep.

+ Mi acuerdo que me decia una mi agtiela de partes de mi padre quando veia alguna dueña con tocas reverendas; aquella, nieto, se parece à la Dueña Quintañona; de donde arguyo yo que la debia de conocer ella, o por lo menos debio de alcazar à ver algun retrato suyo; says the knight in the cage to the doubting Canon.

case as fairly as possible at the beginning of his sixth bookand what he there says of the early history of Rome is just as applicable to that of every other nation under the sun. But having examined this subject at large, on a former occasion,* it is sufficient for our present purpose to have made such remarks only as are suggested by the work under review.

As it is our purpose to avail ourselves of some future opportunity to consider, in detail, the philosophical writings of Cicero, we shall confine our observations in this article to his political opinions, and especially to those opinions as they are expressed in "The Republic." Except a little volume on Invention, written while he was yet a young man, and the Treatise de Oratore, published about the year 698, this was the earliest of his literary productions. It was given to the world A. U. C. 700, just before its author set out for his proconsular government in Cilicia. He was then in his fifty-third year. Formed by nature for philosophical pursuits, and always more or less addicted to them, he felt his taste for them growing upon him with his age, and confirmed by the circumstances of the times. They had been the discipline of his youth; the effective auxiliary of his riper powers; the ornament of his prosperity and greatnessthey now filled up the measure of their blessed influence, and were his solace and his refuge in despondence and gray hairs. He began to be weary of the world-to be disabused of its illusions-even (though not without many a struggle of rebellious nature) to look with some indifference upon its masks and mummeries, its grandeur and its honours. Above all, he was filled with gloomy forebodings for his country-for that country which no patriot ever loved with a purer love, which no statesman ever watched over with a more filial solicitude. There was but too much in the state of affairs to excite his apprehensions. All the elements of society were thrown into disorder, and those clouds had been long gathering which soon burst forth in wrath and desolation. The laws were violated with impunity by the bad-were trampled upon with scorn by the powerful. Pompey dictated to the senate-Clodius rioted with the mob. This ruffian at the head of an infuriated gang of slaves and gladiators, mixed with the dregs and sweepings of the populace, infested daily the streets and public places. The forum-the campusthe via sacra-were a scene of disorders and abominations such as no government, that deserved the name, could have tolerated for a moment, and few civilized nations have ever been condemned to suffer. Cicero saw his brother's house burnt down

*Southern Review, No. II. Art. 2.

by these wretches in broad day-light. He was himself pursued by them as a victim, and narrowly escaped being murdered under the eyes of the magistrates. He was afflicted with the deepest sorrow at this state of things, and frequently gives vent to his sensibility in epistles to his friends, written about this time. From one of them in which he speaks, among other things, of the composition of this very work, we translate the following passage:-"I endeavour to dismiss every thought about public affairs from my mind, and to devote myself entirely to letters: yet I will confess, what, however, I have been especially desirous of concealing from you. I am grieved, my dearest brother, I am grieved that the commonwealth is no more-that there is no longer any administration of justice-that the very period of my life which ought to be crowned with the highest senatorian consequence and dignity, or occupied with the most active forensic labours, or sustained by literary studies at home, that which has been the object of all my pursuits even from my childhood Αίεν ἀρισἐνεῖν καὶ ὑπερειρόχον ἔμμεναι ἄλλῶν,—is irretrievably lost for me." &c. In another, written soon afterwards,-"I bore the result of that trial with the greatest equanimity. This advantage I begin at last to reap, that I am now scarcely discomposed by those evils in the state, and that licentiousness of reckless men which used once to overcome me quite. For nothing can be more hopelessly abandoned than these people-than this age. So that as it is now impossible to take any pleasure in public affairs, I really do not know why I should be vexed at them. Literature and study and ease and my villas are now my delight, and more than all these, our two boys." In a letter to Atticus, in which also he mentions the work before us, he expresses himself to the same effect, though with an affectation of indifference and levity very awkwardly assumed, and more expressive than the strongest avowal in direct terms could possibly have been, of that deep mortification of a wounded spirit which it was intended to disguise. Referring to the issue of the same trial, (that of Gabinius) in which the administration of justice had been perverted by Pompey's influence, he says, "but you will ask, how do you bear these things? Very well indeed, and I give myself great credit for doing so. We have lost, my Pomponius, not only all the vigorous and robust health, but the very complexion and semblance of our pristine constitution. There is nothing in public affairs to delight, nothing to content + Ibid. Epist. 9.

*Ad. Q. Frat. lib. iii. Epist. 5.

Ad. Attici. lib. iv. 16.

Succum ac sanguinem, appropriate and expressive as it is in Latin, would be rather strong in a more literal translation.