be moved by his eloquence; though these may be forgotten things, and their very existence doubted, still they are not lost upon the earth. Has the memory of those mighty orators who have lived before perished altogether? is it not handed down from those who listened to the strains, to their children, and their children's children, from generation to generation, till the fame thereof has filled the whole earth? The writer, indeed, addresses us, centuries after his death, in the self-same words that he spoke to his contemporaries, while the accents of the orator are forgotten. But the memory of the results he brought to pass, the power he exerted, the good he did, can never die; it endures with life-giving and eternal power; it exists in the hearts of thousands, a beautiful ideal, which the lips may fail perhaps to body forth, but which the mind conceives and beholds in its full glory. It lives on, a standard and model which urges thousands forward to a perfection they could never have reached without it. In this sense, there is much that is real and permanent in the fame of an orator. He who founds a city, or discovers a continent, leaves an imperishable fame; but the monument of an orator's glory is not less real, firm, and lasting; it is renewed with every successive age; it lives again in the accents of every eloquent man whom it has stimulated to be what he is. view of it, the fame of an orator is well worth possessing, because it is not an empty sound, but an active principle, that endures and exerts a noble influence through countless ages.

An instance in illustration of our remarks occur in the celebrated speech of Sheridan in the House of Commons, preceding the impeachment of Warren Hastings. The records of this speech have not been preserved, and there are few living who were blessed with the sound of that voice. It is only known, that at the close of the oration, Sir William Dolben moved an adjournment of the debate, on the ground, that," in the state of mind in which Sheridan's speech had left him, it was impossible for him to give a determinate opinion." Yet what volumes does this speak! The imagination paints that august body whom the orator was addressing; at first we see their usual indifference; we notice them whispering and moving about, or lounging on their benches; as the orator proceeds, their attention is gradually fixed; they sit erect that they may listen more carefully; the whispering and bustle cease; the speaker himself loses his usual appearance of indifference and apathy; the stern countenances relax and tears are seen trickling down many a furrowed cheek. The stillness is now profound, broken only by the occasional sob, or the irrepressible cry of admiration, or perhaps at intervals the orator is interrupted, not by the usual tributes of applause, but by cries of rapture, shouts that know not parliamentary forms, and which are uttered by those who would have repressed them, but could not. As he closes, and

the sounds of his magnificent eloquence die upon the ear, the same ceep stillness continues.

Then follows that noble and generous tribute to his power, and the members withdraw in silence and meditation, astonished and overwhelmed by the gorgeous eloquence they had listened to. What the words were, and what the manner was, that so wrought upon this refined and fastidious body, can only be conjectured; the imagination dwells upon it with longing, yet almost in despair; but many a youthful orator has become eloquent from the image of perfection which this slight record has created it in his mind.

But Cicero was impelled to the cultivation of eloquence by other motives besides those of ambition. He loved it as an art; he felt that his capacities were peculiarly adapted to it; and, smitten with the beauty of the ideal that existed in his mind, he was urged by an irresistible desire to give it expression. He laboured for this, as the young sculptor labours for the mastery of his art. He bound himself for life to the pursuit, and no change of circumstance, no danger, no distress, could induce him to abandon it. Was his voice drowned by the clamours of a fiery mob, had the Forum become the scene of riot and bloodshed, did the iron hand of the Dictator crush the growing flower of Roman oratory, still this great master, in his retirement, continued to cherish and preserve his beloved art; he employed his leisure in drawing from his own experience those varied and minute rules for the guidance of others, which abound in his rhetorical writings; and, looking ever forward with a patriot's enthusiasm to the emancipation of his country, he kept alive the spark of eloquence at his own sacred hearth, and within the sanctuary of his home, consoling himself with the reflection, that although he might not live to see the results of his care, he was still bequeathing to posterity an inheritance that would not pass away. In his touching and beautiful language he says, addressing his friend Brutus :

"But after the death of Hortensius, being left, as it were, the guardian. of Orphan Eloquence, I keep her at my home, under careful protection. I repel those unknown and persevering suitors, and preserve her in chastity as a ripened Virgin, protecting her, as far as possible, from the eager pursuit of her lovers. And though I mourn that I have entered upon life, as upon a road, somewhat too late, and have fallen upon this night of the republic ere my journey was finished, I am nevertheless sustained by the consolation which you suggest in your delightful letters, when you bid me be of good cheer, because my good deeds shall speak of me when I am silent. And I shall live, though I be dead.”

With Cicero eloquence was an art; and in saying this we mean to convey the highest praise. The birth-place of art is the soul; it does not depend upon rules; it does not consist in acquired

knowledge; it exists previously to all theories and sciences; it is a perfect idea, an image of beauty dwelling in the mind, in distinct and radiant traits, which we seek to clothe in some form that may be comprehended by the senses. The sculptor embodies in marble, the painter on canvass, the orator in words and action. Sculpture, as an art, existed in the fulness of perfection, when that form of faultless beauty beamed upon the soul of Phidias, which he afterwards pourtrayed in the ivory. The rules of the art are subsequent, and are derived from the various expressions of the preconceived ideal. The same is the case with poetry. "Assuredly, says one of our own writers, "epic poetry was invented then, and not before, when the gorgeous vision of the Iliad, not in its full detail of circumstance, but in the dim conception of its leading scenes and bolder features, burst into the soul of Homer."

So it was with Cicero, in regard to eloquence. He availed himself indeed of the experience of those who had gone before him ; but the ideal existed in his mind above all rules, and he embodied it in a more perfect form than had ever before been witnessed. When we say, therefore, that with him eloquence was an art, we mean, that it was something not acquired by rules, but pre-existing in his mind; aided, but not formed, by industry; giving birth to rhetoric, not receiving existence from it. To but few individuals has this beautiful conception been granted. It was given undoubtedly to Cicero ; it was felt by Sheridan, when, after his first speech in the House of Commons, he made that characteristic exclamation, "It is in me, however, and by God it shall come out." But like that glorious city of Paradise in the eastern fable, it is revealed only to a few favoured mortals, who are permitted, once in a century, to gaze on its splendors, while the search for it is hopeless to all others.

In examining the eloquence of Cicero, therefore, as it appears in his orations, we must view it as an art, and we must apply to it the same principles of criticism that we would to the fine arts. We must judge of the harmony and symmetry of the parts, the resemblance to nature, the finish of the work, the peculiar traits which gave it individuality, the effect of the whole.

In looking for the characteristics of Cicero's eloquence, we shall perhaps, at first, be at a loss to discover any leading and peculiarly prominent feature. We never hear of the thunder, or the blasting power, or the honeyed accents, or of any single distinguishing mark, as in the oratory of Nestor, Ulysses, Demosthenes, Isocrates. Not that he is deficient in any of these qualities, but they are so blended as to form a perfect whole; which we suppose to be the highest reach of art. The drawing of his pictures is not pointed out as peculiarly fine, because the colouring is deficient; the polish of the surface is not made conspicuous by the want of symmetry in the

members; all is well-proportioned and harmonious. Yet nothing can be marked with a stronger individuality than his style. It belongs peculiarly to himself. There is a felicity in his expressions, a distinctness and power given to words, a beauty in the flow of his sentences, which seem almost magical. Language, with him, becomes a new thing; it is perfectly transparent and radiant with thought. It seems, when we are reading his works, as if intellect itself had become visible before us, or at least had assumed the most ethereal form in which it is possible to give expression to thought. The words seem rather to be created at the moment, and to be instinct and co-existent with the idea, than to be used only as a vehicle of communication already formed, and fitted equally to convey the thoughts of other minds. Compared with Livy, for instance, his style seems like the natural flower, in which the hues appear to be one and the same as the form itself, by the side of the rich embroidery, whose threads and tissue might have been employed to represent any other form as well.

Nothing is more remarkable, in reading Cicero's orations, than the immense advantage which he immediately takes, in whatever question he is to discuss. We feel sure, almost at the first sentence he utters, that his argument will prevail. Like the accomplished swordsman, at the first attitude he assumes, at the first glance of his weapon, the first parry or thrust, we feel that victory is in his hands. So with Cicero; he immediately takes a position which he is not to abandon, and which ensures success. And this is done, not by any unfairness of argument, or by assuming that to which he has no right, but by a noble power of intellect, which enables him to comprehend, as by intuition, the whole bearing of the question, to penetrate its depths, and measure every side at a glance; and not only to select, at once, the strong points on which his plea is to rest, but to anticipate and render powerless the attacks of his adversary.

A remarkable instance of this is to be found in the first of his Orations against Verres. He was called to the difficult task of arraigning before the corrupt, and entirely venal court, a wealthy and powerful man, who, by an exaggeration of the crimes usually practised in the provinces, had outraged even the shameful tyranny of Roman prætors, and had compelled guilt itself to cry out against him. The chief hope of Verres was in bribing the judges; and his immense wealth was accordingly lavished upon them, in firm reliance on their accommodating infamy. To meet and counteract this venality of the judges was the great object of the first oration. He begins in the following bold and masterly style :

"The occasion which was most to be desired, and which has the geratest influence in allaying the odium into which your order, O judges!

has fallen, and the infamy of the courts, seems now to be presented, rather by divine interposition than human counsel; and at the most favourable moment for the republic. An opinion, pernicious to the republic and dangerous to yourselves, has long been entertained, not only at Rome, but in foreign nations, that no rich man can be condemned in our courts, as they now exist, however guilty he may be. And now, at a moment so critical to your order, while there are men prepared, by harangues and by proposing laws, to inflame the odium of the senate, Caius Verres is brought to trial; a man whose life and deeds convict him in the minds of all; but who, as he himself hopes and boasts, is already acquitted through his vast wealth. To the great satisfaction of the Roman people, I have appeared in this cause, not to increase the odium attached to your order, but to remove the infamy which notoriously clings to it."

The whole oration is a wonderful piece of art. He shows that the indignation of the senate and people of Rome is roused against the criminal; that he is regarded as a public enemy, and that all who appear as his friends must be ranked with him. He constantly refers to the opinion, prevalent throughout Rome and the provinces, that no rich man can be convicted on trial; and he cites as a proof the declaration of Verres, that he should be content, if he could turn to his own profit, only one third of his three years' plunder of Sicily; that the remainder was to be employed in procuring patrons and bribing the judges; and he here repeats what had greatly moved the people before, that he expected the provinces would soon be sending ambassadors to beg for a repeal of the law against extortion; for, in that case, the prætors would only seize upon as much as they wanted for their own use; while, at present, they are obliged to take not only enough to enrich themselves, but to defray the enormous expense of the trial which awaited them.

His closing exhortation to Glabrio, one of the judges, is a noble strain of eloquence :

You, O Glabrio, by your wisdom, influence, and care, can take such measures that this disgrace shall not befall you. Take up the cause of the courts; take up the cause of strict justice, integrity, good faith, religion; take up the cause of the senate, that this order, by the result of the present trial, may recommend itself to the praise and gratitude of the Roman people. Think who you are, in what place you are, what you owe to the Roman people, what is due to your ancestors. Preserve continually in mind the Acilian law, proposed by your father, through the aid of which the people gained incorruptible courts and inflexible judges, in trials for the crime of extortion. Mighty examples are around you, which will not suffer you to forget the glory of your family; which by day and by night remind you of your brave father; your wise grandparent, your powerful father-in-law. Wherefore, if you have the energy and determination of your father, Glabrio, in resisting the most unprin