His approach to Rome was honoured by a vast con course of the citizens who came out to salute him, but he found the city full charged with the dissension be tween Cxsar and Pompey, which was soon to explode. Cicero made use of all his influence to prevent the fatal rupture, but Caesar was in jest when he pretended to negotiate, and Pompey was more afraid of peace than war, probably from knowing the mind of his rival. Cicero chose his side when it was no longer possible to be neutral, but with his eyes full open to the dilemma of calamities which awaited his country in the event of either rival succeeding. He seems to have dreaded the cruelty of Cxsar, more than the event justified; but his fears of Pompey's incapacity were but too well founded, and even should he have succeeded, the lan guage which Pompey himself held, foreboded neither clemency to the vanquished nor liberty to the republic. Caesar, conscious he could not expect Cicero's support, wished to exhort him to neutrality, and to retire into Greece. Ilis arrival at Pompey's camp, though pleas ing to the majority, excited only a momentary enthu siasm, but proved unimportant to the cause, or to his own personal satisfaction. He has been blamed for passing railleries on the prospects and counsels of his party be fore the battle of Pna•salia ; but when he saw the real inequality of Pompey's ostentatious Asiatic parade of war opposed to the veterans of Cesar ; when he remon strated against risking a battle, and ridiculed the over weaning confidence of his party ; it is no wonder that he enforced his arguments with ridicule, and the pity was for Ms associates, that they did not feel the force of his rebukes. A seasonable illness excused his presence at the fatal battle of Pharsalia, and he afterwards refused all command in the forlorn cause, and took the first op portunity of returning to Italy. Indeed the cause soon was utterly hopeless. The sons of Pompey were men whose success was still more to be deprecated than that of Caesar's, and Cato's prolonged resistance was but the prelude to a tragedy, which could have no finer conclu sion than his own act of suicide. He therefore determin ed to return to Italy, and landed at Brundusium. At this time, he was distressed in his private as well as pub lic circumstances. The unnatural conduct of his bro ther Quintus, who, in order to snake his peace with Cxsar, threw all the blame of their late hostility on Cicero, must have stung him deeply. In spite of this conduct, he was afterwards on terms of friendship with this brother, and they suffered, as will be seen, under a common 'proscription. Ile was likewise in pecuniary difficulties, owing to the advances he had made to Pom pey, and the extravagance of his wife, so that Atticus's purse was, for the present, his chief support. The arrival of Caesar at Brundusium, relieved his suspense. At their meetin•, the generosity of Cxsar imposed no ne cessity of his saying or doing any thing beneath his dignity ; for the conqueror no sooner saw him, than he alighted and ran to embrace hlin, and afterwards walked with him alone, conversing famidarly for several fur longs. From Brundusium he followed Caesar to Rome, with a resolution to spend his time in study and seclu sion, till the republic should be restored to some tolera ble state. His books, which had before been only the amusement, were now become the support of his life.
A quibus antra delectationenz motto fletebanzus, 722i72C vero edam salutem. Ep. Fain. 9. 2. In his present ob scurity, he wrote his book of Oratorial Partitions. An other fruit of his leisure was his Dialogue on famous Orators, in which he gives a saort account of all who had ever fiowished either in Greece or Rome. The conference is supposed to be held between 13,aitus and Atticus in Cicero's garden at Rome, under the statue of Plato, whom he usually imitated in his manner of dialogues.
.A domestic occurrence in the latter part of his life, as late as his 61 st year, has impressed perhaps the only stain that can be fixed upon the bright purity of his private character. This was his divorce of his wife Terentia, and his immediately subsequent marriage with his rich, beautiful, and youthful ward Publelia. As he was in volved in debt, the possession of Publelia's fortune, rather than of her person, may be supposed to have been his motive. In whatever light the match be regarded, the disparity of their years, the relationship of ward and guardian, and the separation from one who had so long been his partner, wculd make us wish that this part of his history had not existed. Yet his conduct was not without one apology, which, if it does not excuse, at least in some degree extenuates the proceeding. Teren tia was an imperious, turbulent, and expensive woman. He had borne her perverseness in the vigour of health, and in the flourishing state of his fortunes ; but in de clining life, and when he was soured by mortifications from abroad, the want of domestic quiet was no longer tolerable. The divorced Terentia, we are told by Va lerius Maximus, lived to the age of 10'3 years ; and, ac cording to St Jerome, married three husbands after Ci cero, so that the s:Taration seems neither to have affect ed her health not spirits. The death of his daughter
Tullia in clii:dbed, soon after his second marriage, gave a deep wound to hi. sensibility ; and the Lehaviour of his young wife, who rejoiced in the removal of her step•• daughter as a rival in his affections, and whom he was at. ler.gth obliged to repudiate, deprived him of his chief domestic comforts.
The conspiracy against Caesar was cenccrted without Cicero's knowledge, yct the removal of an usurper was thought so conformable to his public principles, that Brutus, after the deed, waving his bloody dagger, called on the name of Cicero, and hailed him on the restoration of liberty. Cicero was well inclined to justify the action, but the turn given by Anthony to the minds of the peo• pie, deterred him from more than some general attempts to restore public concord, and at length induced him to retire into the country, where he resumed his literary pursuits. During this period he wrote his on the Nature of the Gods; his Discourse on Divination ; his Dialogue on Old Age ; and his Treatise on Friend ship. Ile was also employed on a history or his own times, or rader or his own conduct, which it does not however appear that he ever intended for publication. The arrival of )01111g Octavian in Italy, however, opened to hint a prospect of serving the state, and recovering his own consequence. The crafty youth was able to per suade the aged orator that his intention was to establish the republican constitution, and become the faithful ser vant of the senate. Cicero, who never loved nor trusted Anthony, as soon as he thought himself sufficiently pro tected, by the quarrel between him and Octavian, pro moted the most hostile measures against the former, and the most honourable decrees in favour of the latter ; and he pronounced those famous Philippics, which, while they proved him fully possessed of all the powers of elo quence, procured him a most implacable foe. The sub sequent reconciliation of the two rivals, the formation of the second triumvirate, and the triumph of their party in Italy, drove Cicero again to his retreat. The last thing which the triumvirate adjusted was a list of the proscrip tion of their enemies. Cicero was at his 'Iusculan Villa with his brother and nephew when be first received the news of the proscription, and of their being included in it. It had been the design of the triumvirate to keep it a se cret, if possible, till the moment of execution ; hut some of Cicero's friends found means to give him early notice, upon which he set forward presently with his brother and nephew towards Astura, the nearest villa which he had upon the sea-side, intending to transport themselves directly out of the reach of their enemies. But Quin tus, being wholly unprepared for so sudden a voyage, re solved to turn back with his son to Rome, in confidence of lying concealed there till they could provide money and necessaries for their support abroad. Cicero, in the meanwhile, found a vessel ready for him at Asturn, in which he embarked ; but the weather being stormy and adverse, he only sailed about two leagues along the coast, and landing at Circacum, spent a night near that place in great anxiety and irresolution, uncertain whether to fly to Brutus, Cassius, or to one of the sons of Pompey, and even meditating suicide. The importunity of his servants at last prevailed with him to sail forward to Cajeta, where he went again on shore to repose himself in his Formian Villa, about a mile from the coast ; weary of his life, and declaring that he would die in that coun try which he had so often saved. Here he slept soundly for several hours, till his servants forced him into his litter or portable chair, and carried him towards the ship through the private ways and walks of his woods, having. just heard that soldiers were come into the coun try in quest of him, and not far from the Villa. As soon as they were gone, the soldiers arrived at the house, and perceiving him to be fled, pursued immediately towards the sea, and overtook him in the wood. Their leader was one Poplin's Lxuas, a tribune of the army, whom Cicero Lad formerly defended and saved in a capital cause. As soon as the soldiers appeared, the servants drew their weapons and prepared to defend their master to the last ; but Cicero commanded them to set him down and to make no resistance ; then, looking on his pursuers, with a calm firmness, stretched forth his head out of the litter, and bade. them do their work. They cut off his head and both hands ; and Popilius, charged with the horrid burthen of that head which had preserved his own, sct out with it to Rome, as the most agreeable pre sent which he could bear to Anthony. Anthony cattse4 the head to be fixed upon the rostra between the two bands, a spectacle which drew tears from all virtuous citizens. The death of Cicero was indeed regarded as the death-blow of the republic. Anthony regarded it as such, and declared the proscription at an end. Ile was killed at the age of sixty-three years, eleven months, and three days.