The Republic and The Laws (Oxford World's Classics) (14 page)

[Cicero is speaking in his own person. Four leaves are missing, but according to Augustine,
Contra Iulianum
4. 12. Go, Cicero affirms that in spite of man’s physical weakness, his fears and moral failings, he, unlike other animals, has deep within him the divine fire of rational intelligence.]

… and (intelligence enabled him to compensate) for his slowness by means of vehicles. Also, on hearing the confused and jumbled noise which men were making with their inarticulate sounds, (intelligence) split those sounds up and divided them into units, imprinting words, like signs, on things, and bringing together people who previously dwelt apart through the delightful bond of a common speech. Thanks to that same intelligence, vocal sounds, which seemed to be numberless, were all set down and represented by the invention of a few marks. Those marks allowed conversations to be carried on with people who were far away, wishes to be indicated, and records of things past to be preserved. Then came number, a thing which is necessary for life and is also, uniquely, changeless and eternal.
*
That was what first induced us to look up to the sky, and enabled us to gaze with understanding at the movements of the stars, and by marking off nights and days (to calculate the year).

[Four leaves are missing. Cicero is speaking of the different activities of moral philosophy and statesmanship, and the possibility of combining the two.]

… their minds rose higher and succeeded in achieving, in thought or action, something worthy of what I have previously called the gift of the gods. So let us regard those who theorize about ethical principles as great men, which indeed they are; let us grant that they are scholars and teachers of truth and moral excellence, provided we acknowledge the fact that this other branch of study is by no means contemptible, whether it was invented by men engaged in the ever-changing world of politics or was practised by those philosophers in the course of their peaceful
studies—I am speaking of the art of governing and training peoples, an art which in the case of good and able men still produces, as it has so often in the past, an almost incredible and superhuman kind of excellence. If, then, someone thinks, like the men who are taking part in the discussion recorded in these books, that he should add scholarship and a deeper understanding of the world to the mental equipment which he possesses by nature and through the institutions of the state, no one can fail to acknowledge his superiority over everybody else. For what can be more impressive than the combination of experience in the management of great affairs with the study and mastery of those other arts? Who can be regarded as more completely qualified than Publius Scipio, Gaius Laelius, and Lucius Philus—a trio who, to make sure of including everything that brought the highest distinction to eminent men, added this foreign learning derived from Socrates to the native traditions of their forefathers? Hence my opinion that anyone who achieves both objectives, familiarizing himself with our native institutions
and
with theoretical knowledge, has acquired everything necessary for distinction. If, however, one has to choose between these paths to wisdom, then, even though some people think that a life passed quietly in the study of the highest arts is happier, there can be no doubt that the statesman’s life is more admirable and more illustrious. That is the kind of life which makes the greatest men famous—like, for instance, Manius Curius,

Whom none could overcome with steel or gold,

or …
[Three leaves are missing at this point.]

… (though one grants that both approaches) have led to wisdom, the methods of the two groups have differed in this respect: one has nourished people’s natural potential by verbal skills, the other through laws and institutions. Now this country on its own has produced more men who, if not ‘philosophers’ (for the former group clings so tenaciously to that name), certainly deserve the highest praise, since they have promoted the precepts and discoveries of the philosophers. Think, moreover, of all the states that have been and still are admirable, given that in the nature of things it requires practical wisdom of the very highest order to devise a form of government that will last. If we assigned just one such
man to each of those states, what a huge number of outstanding individuals we would have before us! If, within Italy, we were prepared to survey Latium or the Sabine or Volscian peoples, going on to Samnium, Etruria, and Magna Graecia; and if then (we took account of) the Assyrians, the Persians, the Phoenician peoples …
[Six leaves have been lost.]

PHILUS
: What a splendid case you are putting in my hands when you ask me to undertake the defence of wickedness!

LAELIUS
: Still, if you make the points which are usually made against justice, you needn’t worry
*
about giving the impression that you actually believe what you say. After all, you yourself are an absolute model of old-fashioned honesty and good faith; and everyone knows your habit of arguing both sides of a case,
*
because that, in your view, is the simplest way of getting at the truth.

PHILUS
: Well, all right then. I’ll play the game your way and deliberately cover myself with mud. That’s something that gold prospectors don’t shirk; so I suppose that in digging for the truth, a thing far more precious than all the gold in the world, we shouldn’t try to avoid the consequences, however nasty. I only wish that, as I am going to use someone else’s argument, l could also use someone else’s mouth. As it is, Lucius Furius Philus will have to say the things that Carneades
*
(used to assert), a Greek fellow who used to devise verbal arguments for whatever was expedient …
[Two leaves have fallen out.]

… (Plato) strove to discover and defend (justice), the other (Aristotle) filled four pretty hefty books on that very subject. I never expected anything important or impressive from Chrysippus, who argues in his usual style, investigating every problem through the function of words rather than the weight of things. It was the aim of those heroic souls to raise up that virtue from the ground—that virtue which, when it occurs, is the most generous and open-handed of all, which loves everyone better than itself, and whose
raison d’etre
is to secure other people’s welfare rather than its own—and to set it close to wisdom on that heavenly throne.
Certainly they did not lack such good intentions; what other motive or what possible purpose did they have for writing? Nor did they lack intellectual ability (in that respect they were supreme). But the weakness of their case was too much for their good intentions and their powers of expression. For the justice which we are considering is a political phenomenon, not an element in nature. If it
were
part of nature, like hot and cold or bitter and sweet, then just and unjust would be the same for everyone.

As it is, if someone riding in Pacuvius’ famous chariot of winged snakes
*
could look down and survey many different cities and countries, he would see first of all in Egypt, a land which has escaped change more successfully than any other, and which preserves in written records the events of countless centuries, a bull called Apis by the inhabitants being treated as a god, and many other extraordinary things too, including beasts of every kind being worshipped among the gods. Then in Greece, as with us, he would see splendid temples consecrated to statues in human form, which the Persians regarded as sacrilegious. Xerxes,
*
in fact, is supposed to have ordered the temples of Athens to be burnt, simply because he believed it was impious to confine within walls gods whose abode was the whole universe. Later Philip, who planned to make war on Persia, and Alexander, who actually did so, claimed in their defence that they wanted to take vengeance on behalf of the Greek temples. The Greeks themselves thought the temples should be left unrestored, so that later generations might have before their eyes an ageless monument of Persian profanity.

Think of all those nations, like the Taurians on the Black Sea coast, Busiris, King of Egypt, the Gauls and the Carthaginians, who have regarded human sacrifice as a holy act, most welcome in the sight of the immortal gods. Peoples’ customs, in fact, are vastly different. The Cretans and Aetolians think that armed robbery is an honourable occupation. The Spartans maintain that every piece of land that they can reach with a javelin belongs to them. The Athenians used to swear a public oath to the effect that every land producing olive oil and corn was their property. The Gauls consider it disgraceful to obtain corn by sowing seed; so they send in troops to gather someone else’s harvest. We Romans,
paragons of justice as we are, forbid the tribes beyond the Alps to plant olive-trees and vines, in order to enhance the value of our own products. In doing so we are said to be acting wisely, but not justly. So you can see that wisdom is something different from fairness. Lycurgus, who devised such unrivalled laws and such an equitable code, gave the land of the rich to the common people— for the latter to work as slaves.

If I wanted to describe the varieties of laws, institutions, customs, and habits, I could show not just that different kinds have existed among so many nations but that a thousand changes have taken place within a single city—even in this one. Our friend Manilius here, who is a learned lawyer, would now give a different opinion about the rights of women in regard to bequests and legacies from that which he used to give in his youth before the
Lex Voconia
*
came into force. That law, I may point out, which was passed in the interests of men, involves a serious injustice to women. For why shouldn’t a woman possess money of her own?
*
Why should a vestal virgin
*
be allowed to make a will, but not her mother? Why, if the amount of a woman’s assets had to be limited, should Publius Crassus’ daughter, provided she were his only child, have been legally entitled to a hundred million sesterces, whereas mine was not allowed three million?
[One leaf has dropped out. Philus is still speaking.]

… (If nature) had laid down our system of justice, every country would have the same laws, and one country would not have different laws at different times. If it is the duty of a just man and a good citizen to obey the laws, would someone tell me which laws are intended? Is it every law in existence? But moral excellence does not accept contradictions; nature forbids variations; and anyhow laws are enforced by penalties, not by our sense of justice. So there is nothing natural about justice. It follows that not even just individuals are just by nature. Or do they mean that, as there are various laws, naturally good men abide by
real,
not merely putative, justice? We are told that the duty of a good and just man is to give everyone his due. So what, for a start, shall we give to dumb animals? Pythagoras and Empedocles
*
(no average men, but thinkers of the greatest eminence) proclaim that all living creatures have the same standing in law, and they loudly assert that anyone who injures an animal faces inescapable punishment. So
it’s a crime to harm a beast, and whoever is prepared (to commit) this crime …
[of the next 80 leaves only 4 survive. Some of what is missing can be supplied from certain passages of Lactantius and Tertullian Which are paraphrased below.]

Why are national codes dissimilar? Is it not because each community enacts what seems to suit its own conditions? The Romans themselves illustrate the difference between justice and expediency. By declaring war through the fetial priests they have given a specious legality to lawless behaviour; and by seizing other people’s land they have acquired a world empire (Lactantius,
Divinae Institutiones
6. 9. 2–4).

Every empire is gained by war, which always involves harm for the gods of the conquered as well as for the conquered themselves (Tertullian
, Apologeticus 25.
14–15).

Carneades argued that there was no natural law. All living creatures, he said, including human beings, seek what is in their own interests. If there is such a thing as justice, it is the height of folly; for by acting in the interests of others a person does injury to himself. If the Romans decided to be just and return other people’s property, they would at once revert to poverty and live in huts (Lactantius,
Div. Inst. f.
16. 2–4).

Your advantages are the disadvantages of others. Hence building an empire involves expropriating other people’s territory and enriching yourself at their expense. Aggressive generals are held to be the embodiment of valour and excellence. Teachers of philosophy give the cloak of tradition and authority to folly and crime (Lactantius,
Div. Inst. 6. 6.
19 and 23).

PHILUS
: … for all who have the power of life and death over a community are tyrants, but they prefer to be called kings—the name borne by Jupiter the Best. When certain men control a state thanks to wealth or birth or some other advantage, that is an oligarchy, but the members are called aristocrats. If the people hold the supreme power and everything is done according to their decisions, that is called liberty, though in fact it is licence. But when there is mutual fear between one individual and another, and between one class and another, then, because no one can rely on his own strength, a kind of pact is made between the people and the powerful few. From that emerges the compromise recommended by Scipio, i.e. the mixed form of government. You see,
the mother of justice is not nature, nor good intentions, but weakness. For when one is faced with a threefold choice:
(a)
to do injury without experiencing it,
(b)
to do it and to experience it, (c) neither to do it nor to experience it, the best choice is to do it, preferably with impunity. The next best is to avoid doing it or undergoing it; the worst is to be constantly at daggers drawn, inflicting and suffering injury in turn.
[Four leaves have disappeared. Philus is still speaking.]

Wisdom encourages us to make money, increase our possessions, and extend our boundaries (for what sense would there be in the tribute inscribed on the monuments of our greatest generals, ‘He advanced the bounds of empire’, if nothing had been gained from anyone else?); also to rule over as many subjects as possible, enjoy pleasures, and revel in power, supremacy, and dominion. Justice, on the other hand, teaches us to spare all men, take thought for the interests of mankind, give everyone his due, and not lay hands on the things belonging to the gods, the state, or somebody else. What, then, is gained by obeying wisdom? Wealth, positions of power, possessions, offices, military commands, and dominion over individuals or nations. But as we are talking of the state, and national activities are more conspicuous, and since justice is essentially the same in both cases, I think we should confine our discussion to wisdom in its public context. Leaving others aside for the moment, consider this nation of ours, whose history Africanus, in yesterday’s conversation, traced from its roots, and whose empire now controls the world. Was it through justice or wisdom that it rose from the smallest to the greatest thing in existence?
[Probably two leaves are missing.]

… except Arcadia and Athens, who, I fancy, were afraid that this decree from the hand of justice
*
might at some time come into effect, and so invented the claim that they had sprung from the ground like these little field-mice.

Against these points the following arguments are usually advanced in the first place by a group of thinkers
*
who are by no means dishonest in debate, and who have the more weight in this case because, when discussing the good man (whom we all wish to be open and straightforward) they do not argue like cunning old hands full of evil intent. These people maintain that a wise man is not good because he takes pleasure in goodness and justice
in themselves for their own sake, but because good men live a life which is free from fear, worry, anxiety, and danger, whereas the wicked always have some qualms which they can’t get out of their minds, continual visions of trials and punishments; that no profit or reward, if dishonestly obtained, is enough to make up for the constant dread, the conviction that some punishment is constantly at hand or constantly impending …
[Four leaves are lost, but half of section
27
(in which Philus is still speaking) is supplied from Lactantius,
Divinae Institutiones y.
12.
5–6.]

Now consider this possibility. Let us imagine two people—one a man of the highest character, wholly fair-minded and just and exceptionally reliable, the other a man of remarkable wickedness and effrontery. And let us assume that a country is so mistaken as to think that the good man is wicked, villainous, and evil, while believing that the vicious man is entirely blameless and honest. Let us then suppose that, in keeping with this misconception which is shared by all the citizens, the good man is harassed, seized, has his hands cut off and his eyes gouged out; he is then condemned, clapped in irons, branded, expelled, suffers destitution, and finally, for the best of reasons, is regarded by all as utterly wretched. The villain, on the other hand, is praised, made much of, universally adored; offices, military commands, wealth, and riches of every kind are heaped upon him; in a word, he is judged by everyone to be supremely good and eminently worthy of all the gifts of fortune. Now tell me, who would be mad enough to doubt which of the two he would prefer to be?

What is true of individuals is also true of nations. No state is so stupid as not to prefer wicked dominion to virtuous subjection. I need not go far to find an instance. While I was consul and you were my advisory committee, I consulted you about the treaty of Numantia. As everybody knew, Quintus Pompeius had made a treaty, and Mancinus was in the same position. The latter, admirable man that he was, actually supported the bill which I introduced in accordance with a senatorial recommendation; the former vehemently defended his action. If self-respect, integrity, and honour are what we are looking for, Mancinus brought all these virtues to the debate; but if we want clear-headedness, practical common sense, and an awareness of our real interests, Pompeius comes out on top.