power to do. The republic has at last come to the end of this miserable and fatal war; that man has been victorious who has not allowed his animosities to be inflamed by good fortune, but who has mitigated them by the goodness of his disposition, and who did not consider all those with whom he was displeased deserving on that account of exile or of death. Arms were laid aside by some, were wrested from the hands of others. He is an ungrateful and an unjust citizen who, when released from the danger of arms, still retains, as it were, an armed spirit, so that that man is better who fell in battle, who spent his life in the cause. For that which seems obstinacy to some people may appear constancy in others. But now all dissension is crushed by the arms and extinguished by the justice of the conqueror; it only remains for all men for the future to be animated by one wish, all at least who have not only any wisdom at all, but who are at all in their senses. Unless you, O Caius Cæsar, continue safe, and also in the same sentiments as you have displayed on previous occasions, and on this day most eminently, we can not be safe either. Wherefore we all-we who wish this constitution and these things around us to be safe-exhort and entreat you to take care of your own life, to consult your own safety; and we all promise to you (that I may say also on behalf of others what I feel respecting myself), since you think that there is still something concealed, against which it is necessary to guard-we promise you, I say, not only our vigilance and our wariness also to assist in those precautions, but we promise to oppose our sides and our bodies as a shield against every danger which can threaten you.

But let my speech end with the same sentiment as it began. We all, O Caius Cæsar, render you the greatest thanks, and we feel even deeper gratitude than we express; for all feel the same thing, as you might have perceived from the entreaties and tears of all. But because it is not necessary for all of them to stand up and say so, they wish it at all events that by me, who am forced in some degree to rise and speak, should be expressed both all that they feel, and all that is becoming, and all that I myself consider due to Marcus Marcellus, who is thus by you re

stored to this order, and to the Roman people, and to the republic. For I feel that all men are exulting, not in the safety of one individual alone, but in the general safety of all. And as it becomes the greatest possible affection, such as I was always well known by all men to have toward him, so that I scarcely yielded to Caius Marcellus, his most excellent and affectionate brother, and certainly to no one except him-that love for him which I displayed by my solicitude, by my anxiety, and my exertions, as long as there was a doubt of his safety, I certainly ought to display at this present time, now that I am relieved from my great care and distress and misery on his account.

Therefore, O Caius Cæsar, I thank you, as if though I have not only been preserved in every sort of manner, but also loaded with distinctions by you-still, by this action of yours, a crowning kindness of the greatest importance was added to the already innumerable benefits which you have heaped upon me, which I did not before believe were capable of any augmentation.

ESSAYS

T

THE NATURE OF THE GODS1

BOOK I

HERE are many things in philosophy, my dear
Brutus, which are not as yet fully explained to us,

and particularly (as you very well know) that most obscure and difficult question concerning the nature of the gods, so extremely necessary both toward a knowledge of the human mind and the practice of true religion: concerning which the opinions of men are so various and so different from each other as to lead strongly to the inference that ignorance2 is the cause or origin of philosophy, and that the Academic philosophers have been prudent in refusing their assent to things uncertain: for what is more unbecoming to a wise man than to judge rashly? or what rashness is so unworthy of the gravity and stability of a philosopher as either to maintain false opinions or without the least hesitation to support and defend what he has not thoroughly examined and does not clearly comprehend?

In the question now before us the greater part of mankind have united to acknowledge that which is most probable, and which we are all by nature led to supposenamely, that there are gods. Protagoras doubted whether there were any. Diagoras the Melian and Theodorus of Cyrene entirely believed there were no such beings. But they who have affirmed that there are gods have expressed such a variety of sentiments on the subject, and the disagreement between them is so great, that it would be tiresome to enumerate their opinions; for they give us many statements respecting the forms of the gods, and their places of abode, and the employment of their lives. And these are matters on which the philosophers differ with the most exceeding earnestness. But the most considerable part of the dispute is, whether they are wholly inactive; totally unemployed, and free from all care and administration of affairs: or, on the contrary, whether all things were made and constituted by them from the beginning; and whether they will continue to be actuated and governed by them to eternity. This is one of the greatest points in debate; and unless this is decided mankind must necessarily remain in the greatest of errors, and ignorant of what is most important to be known.

For there are some philosophers, both ancient and modern, who have conceived that the gods take not the least cognizance of human affairs. But if their doctrine be true, of what avail is piety, sanctity, or religion? for these are feelings and marks of devotion which are offered to the gods by men with uprightness and holiness, on the ground that men are the objects of the attention of the gods, and that many benefits are conferred by the immortal gods on the human race. But if the gods have neither the power nor the inclination to help us; if they take no care of us, and pay no regard to our actions; and if there is no single advantage which can possibly accrue to the life of man; then what reason can we have to pay any adoration, or any honours, or to prefer any prayers to them? Piety, like the other virtues, can not have any connection with vain show or dissimulation; and without piety neither sanctity nor religion can be supported; the total subversion of which must be attended with great confusion and disturbance in life.

I do not even know, if we cast off piety toward the gods, but that faith, and all the associations of human life, and that most excellent of all virtues, justice, may perish with it.

There are other philosophers, and those, too, very great and illustrious men, who conceive the whole world to be directed and governed by the will and wisdom of the gods; nor do they stop here, but conceive likewise that the deities