affairs on their old footing, a desire which, though always strong, never rose to effort until some impulse from without had overcome its inertia.

man.

The Letters of Cicero are the best which antiquity has left us, and among the best of any time. And their excellence as letters arises quite as much from his moral or voluntary weakness as from his intellectual strength. His character was so little pronounced, with so few rough points, and so feeble a bias towards any one direction, that it was easy for him to make himself one for the time being with the person addressed. His rare versatility and tact enabled him to project himself into, to appreciate nicely, and to adapt his thoughts, tone, and diction to the sentiments of all. And while doing this he completely revealed himself.. It is much to be regretted that so large a part of his correspondence has been lost, as it would have added so much to our pleasure and profit, and to our knowledge of him as a So humiliating are the revelations made of himself in his letters to his brother Quintus, to that "afflicted woman Terentia," his wife, and to his friend Atticus during exile, that Wieland declared that it would have been well for his reputation if his freedman Tiro, who probably first collected them, had burned them all. His reputation might indeed have been better, but not so true. We should, then, have known him with more or less correctness, as the orator, statesman, and philosopher, but we should have totally misconceived him as Cicero. These letters are invaluable, as they show better than all the others how he lived, moved, and had his being in private, life, when he was not mounted on stilts, nor acting a part, nor under restraint from position or office; and all the more so, as they were penned at a time of trial singularly adapted to test and to make known in naked truth the stuff he was made of. We could not at all dispense with these letters if we would know the living, household Cicero. Merivale remarks of them that they exhibit the writings of a mind which wreaks upon friends the torments of self-dissatisfaction, and that, from his tendency to exaggerate his feelings, they contain an overcharged picture of his imbecility. They have, it seems to us, that truth which chiefly concerns us-truth to character. It is at least the flitting truth of the moment, if it is not the truth of every moment and every month. These letters fix the Cicero of the minute. He did not think and feel thus all the time, for he was the creature of moods, and given to many

sudden ups and downs. But that he was capable of thinking and feeling thus at some times is unquestionable; and this is a truth which we cannot afford to lose.

The other letters of Cicero-Ad Familiares-exhibit him generally in a more pleasing light. Middleton, Niebuhr, the Abbè Mongault, Melmoth, Merivale, De Quincey, and Forsyth, have given eloquent testimony to their charm, elegance, and variety, and to the perennial interest which attaches to them. Starting from widely different standpoints; bearing the outflow of shifting moods; disclosing the inmost thoughts of a sleepless intellect; the aims, the plans, and the deeds of an agile protagonist in the world's arena, and the recesses of a morbidly impressible spirit; reflecting constantly, and often with a naive unconsciousness, the hot temper of the times; addressed to all classes, for every conceivable purpose, in every variety of tone and diction; accommodating themselves with singular felicity to the idiosyncrasies of each correspondent-these letters remain the delight of each succeeding age. They embody, still fresh for us, the culture of the scholar, the speculations of the philosopher, the views of the statesman, the periods of the orator, the gusts and schemes of the politician, the countless activities of the man of the world, the thoughts of the moralist, the opinions and sentiments of the connoisseur, the otium cum dignitate of the gentleman-farmer, the raillery of the wit, the tastes, digestion, and experience of the accomplished diner-out, the quick thoughts of the supple conversationist, and the tout ensemble of the citizen and man of family. Combined with these, it is pleasant to find-always the tact, oftentimes the delicacy and sensitiveness, and now and then the tenderness and sympathy, of woman, And it gives us no inferior joy to catch glimpses of fine golden threads running here and there, twisted of the sportive freshness, the fun, the frank simplicity, and the artless prattle of childhood. We see him, in short, running over the gamut of thoughts, sentiments, and moods, scandal, and all manner of gossip, sound sense and delightful nonsense. Forsyth speaks of his letters as harping ever on the vanity of ambition and the worthlessness of popular applause, and says: "We would not willingly exchange that letter to Atticus, in which he says of himself that he knows he has acted like a "genuine donkey" (me asinum germanum fuisse), for the stiffest and most elaborate of his political epistles." He gives an inside view of his real opinions about politics, measures, and men, exhibiting often

times, a singular running commentary on his opinions as advocated in public; chats, weeps, grovels, and grows ecstatic in his domestic scribblings to Terentia and Tullia; discusses wit, mouldy cheese, sausages, literature, epicurism, and good cookery with Papirius Pætus; tells many friends of his fasts, feasts, and dietings, his love for this or that dish, what his notions are about the science of good cheer, and writes from the very midst of a banquet to say how dearly he loves festivity-albeit he is not addicted to gallantry; tells Varro how he reads and walks, what he is studying, thinking about, and writing; does not scruple to boast freely of his own great deeds, possibly boring his correspondents not a little with the familiar egotism; descants unreservedly on the excellence of his own letters, justly remarking that much of their merit is derived from their great resemblance to conversation; writes, in forma mendicantis, to Lucceius one of the most absurd letters ever left behind by a great man, begging for an extravagant laudation of his own consulship, measures, and deeds, in the history which Lucceius is proposing to write; and then, being much gratified with this singular performance, writes to Atticus to ask Lucceius for the privilege of a squint at the epistolary treasure; eats his own words, stoutly denies having had anything to do with the scandal which his hand had actually penned, and contradicts in one letter what he had just written in another; convicts himself of duplicity and insincerity towards Cato, Pompey, Cæsar, Antony, Črasus, Appius, Pulcher, Piso, Gabinius, Vatinius, Ptolemy, and others, and even on one occasion towards his best loved friend Atticus; and writes much special pleading to Lentulus to vindicate his consistency; writes to his dear freedman Tiro missives running over with affection,-on one occasion despatching three within twenty-four hours, and brimful of commissions, advice, and vagaries,-giving directions regarding business, the house, the library, the copyists, health, and regimen, sending an artistic cook for the greater well-being of the faithful servitor, and always professing undying attachment; praises the country, and longs for retirement, and says that Rome is the only place-there's no place like Rome; beseeches Cœlius to send all the gossip of the metropolis to the exiled proconsul in Cilicia, promising in return the desired panthers and other favors; talks with Fabius Gallus about his pictures and statues, vents his spleen freely on his intimates when in the mood, and jokes in every vein of wit and

humor with Atticus, Volumnius, Cornificius, Valerius the pettifogger, Papirius, and the much-quizzed Trebatius, a Roman barrister in full practice among British barbarians; proposes to one correspondent that each should write under an alias, and with another, agrees upon private marks in his letters to indicate the real weight to be attached to his recommendations of particular persons; now attests himself free from vainglory, then confesses his immoderate love of praise, and proves his consistency by continually setting forth his great deeds, and always fishing for compliments; introduces neat little dissertations concerning philosophy, statecraft, men, business, pleasure, morals, manners, laughter, and all sorts of agreeable trifles, as well as de omni scibili; dating his versatile effusions at all hours and from all places, before sunrise, in the garden, the study, the senate-chamber, at a friend's house, from a dinner party, in the midst of an argument, oration, official duties, or authorship, from his town-residence and his dozen different country-seats, from all parts of Italy and the regions round about, and from far Cilicia.

We have aimed in this article, as our title indicates, to present the negative side of Cicero, rather than the positive. And from this stand-point it seems to us a deeper insight and a clearer conception of his real character may be gained than from any other; for as a man he was by nature more distinguished by what he was not in point of character than by what he was. Still the true complement to our view would be one from the other side, representing whatever was positive in him and in his relations to the world. De Quincey remarks, that in the revolution of the republic the only great actor who stood upon the authority of his character, was Cicero. This may be true or not according as it is taken; according employing the distinction set forth above-as we conceive the word character as denoting a moral or a voluntary element. True if character means comparative freedom from vice and personal purity; not true if it implies the magnetic will, and indicates the existence of traits in themselves distinctive, positive, and salient in any degree. Cicero carried no weight: there seemed nothing behind him. Once, descanting on the character of Cato, he spoke of him as one whose weight of opinion was equal to one hundred thousand. But Cicero himself calls to mind the man from Crotona, whose opinions had little authority, but who spoke as if he had come from a great city.

Mommsen's stern dissection of the nerveless orator may not be entirely just; but he is not far from the truth when he says, that in the politics of the time Cicero's authority carried no weight; that as a statesman he was "ohne Einsicht, Ansicht, und Absicht."

ART. VI.-1. How our National Debt may be a National Blessing, &c. By SAMUEL WILKESON. Issued by Jay Cooke, General Subscription Agent of the Government Loans. Pamphlet. Philadelphia, 1865.

2. An Inquiry concerning the Rise and Progress, the Redemption and Present State and the Management of the National Debt of Great Britain. Fourth Edition. By ROBERT HAMILTON, LL.D., F.R.S.E. Edinburgh.

3. Elements of a Plan for the Liquidation of the National Debt of Great Britain, &c. By RICHARD HEATHFIELD. London.

4. Histoire financière de France.-Histoire financière d'Angleterre. Par M. BAILLY. Paris.

5. Du Systeme financier. Paris.

ON no subject have political economists differed so much as on the influence of a large public debt on the interests of the nation. The author of the pamphlet at the head of this article is by no means peculiar in the opinion that "a national debt may be a national blessing." Statesmen like William Pitt and the late Sir Robert Peel have maintained the same theory, although only when in need of money for other purposes. But Mr. Wilkeson makes a very serious omission; he assigns no reasons, adduces no arguments, exhibits no authorities in support of his statements. If a king, emperor, or president takes up his pen to advocate views which are at variance with those entertained by the general public, it becomes incumbent on him to make some effort to prove that he is right. The most illustrious statesmen or lawgivers have not considered themselves exempt from this duty. Any one who does must not wonder if he is misunderstood, misrepresented, or even ridiculed. There is many an important fact which, if stated dogmatically, without any explanation of the principles upon which it is founded, would seem ridiculous even to intelligent men; whereas, if the