For, not long ago, when I was walking for my amusement, in a private avenue at home, I was agreeably interrupted by my friend Brutus, and T. Pomponius, who came, as indeed they frequently did, to visit me;—two worthy citizens who were united to each other in the closest friendship, and were so dear and so agreeable to me, that, on the first sight of them, all my anxiety for the Commonwealth subsided. After the usual salutations—"Well, gentlemen," said I, "how go the times? What news have you brought?" "None," replied Brutus, "that you would wish to hear, or that I can venture to tell you for truth."—"No," said Atticus; "we are come with an intention that all matters of state should be dropped; and rather to hear something from you, than to say any thing which might serve to distress you." "Indeed," said I, "your company is a present remedy for my sorrow; and your letters, when absent, were so encouraging, that they first revived my attention to my studies."—"I remember," replied Atticus, "that Brutus sent you a letter from Asia, which I read with infinite pleasure: for he advised you in it like a man of sense, and gave you every consolation which the warmest friendship could suggest."—"True," said I, "for it was the receipt of that letter which recovered me from a growing indisposition, to behold once more the cheerful face of day; and as the Roman State, after the dreadful defeat near Cannae, first raised its drooping head by the victory of Marcellus at Nola, which was succeeded by many other victories; so, after the dismal wreck of our affairs, both public and private, nothing occurred to me before the letter of my friend Brutus, which I thought to be worth my attention, or which contributed, in any degree, to the anxiety of my heart."—"That was certainly my intention," answered Brutus; "and if I had the happiness to succeed, I was sufficiently rewarded for my trouble. But I could wish to be informed, what you received from Atticus which gave you such uncommon pleasure."—"That," said I, "which not only entertained me; but, I hope, has restored me entirely to myself."—"Indeed!" replied he; "and what miraculous composition could that be?"—"Nothing," answered I; "could have been a more acceptable, or a more seasonable present, than that excellent Treatise of his which roused me from a state of languor and despondency."—"You mean," said he, "his short, and, I think, very accurate abridgment of Universal History."—"The very same," said I; "for that little Treatise has absolutely saved me."—"I am heartily glad of it," said Atticus; "but what could you discover in it which was either new to you, or so wonderfully beneficial as you pretend?"—"It certainly furnished many hints," said I, "which were entirely new to me: and the exact order of time which you observed through the whole, gave me the opportunity I had long wished for, of beholding the history of all nations in one regular and comprehensive view. The attentive perusal of it proved an excellent remedy for my sorrows, and led me to think of attempting something on your own plan, partly to amuse myself, and partly to return your favour, by a grateful, though not an equal acknowledgment. We are commanded, it is true, in that precept of Hesiod, so much admired by the learned, to return with the same measure we have received; or, if possible, with a larger. As to a friendly inclination, I shall certainly return you a full proportion of it; but as to a recompence in kind, I confess it to be out of my power, and therefore hope you will excuse me: for I have no first-fruits (like a prosperous husbandman) to acknowledge the obligation I have received; my whole harvest having sickened and died, for want of the usual manure: and as little am I able to present you with any thing from those hidden stores which are now consigned to perpetual darkness, and to which I am denied all access; though, formerly, I was almost the only person who was able to command them at pleasure. I must therefore, try my skill in a long- neglected and uncultivated soil; which I will endeavour to improve with so much care, that I may be able to repay your liberality with interest; provided my genius should be so happy as to resemble a fertile field, which, after being suffered to lie fallow a considerable time, produces a heavier crop than usual."—"Very well," replied Atticus, "I shall expect the fulfilment of your promise; but I shall not insist upon it till it suits your convenience; though, after all, I shall certainly be better pleased if you discharge the obligation."—"And I also," said Brutus, "shall expect that you perform your promise to my friend Atticus: nay, though I am only his voluntary solicitor, I shall, perhaps, be very pressing for the discharge of a debt, which the creditor himself is willing to submit to your own choice."—"But I shall refuse to pay you," said I, "unless the original creditor takes no farther part in the suit."—"This is more than I can promise," replied he, "for I can easily foresee, that this easy man, who disclaims all severity, will urge his demand upon you, not indeed to distress you, but yet very closely and seriously."—"To speak ingenuously," said Atticus, "my friend Brutus, I believe, is not much mistaken: for as I now find you in good spirits, for the first time, after a tedious interval of despondency, I shall soon make bold to apply to you; and as this gentleman has promised his assistance, to recover what you owe me, the least I can do is to solicit, in my turn, for what is due to him."
"Explain your meaning," said I.—"I mean," replied he, "that you must write something to amuse us; for your pen has been totally silent this long time; and since your Treatise on Politics, we have had nothing from you of any kind; though it was the perusal of that which fired me with the ambition to write an Abridgment of Universal History. But we shall, however, leave you to answer this demand, when, and in what manner you shall think most convenient. At present, if you are not otherwise engaged, you must give us your sentiments on a subject on which we both desire to be better informed."—"And what is that?" said I.—"What you gave me a hasty sketch of," replied he, "when I saw you last at Tusculanum—the History of Famous Orators;—when they made their appearance, and who and what they were; which, furnished such an agreeable train of conversation, that when I related the substance of it to your, or I ought rather to have said our common friend, Brutus, he expressed a violent desire to hear the whole of it from your own mouth. Knowing you, therefore, to be at leisure, we have taken the present opportunity to wait upon you; so that, if it is really convenient, you will oblige us both by resuming the subject."—"Well, gentlemen," said I, "as you are so pressing, I will endeavour to satisfy you in the best manner I am able."—"You are able enough," replied he; "only unbend yourself a little, or, if you can set your mind at full liberty."—"If I remember right," said I, "Atticus, what gave rise to the conversation, was my observing, that the cause of Deiotarus, a most excellent Sovereign, and a faithful ally, was pleaded by our friend Brutus, in my hearing, with the greatest elegance and dignity."—"True," replied he, "and you took occasion from the ill success of Brutus, to lament the loss of a fair administration of justice in the Forum."—"I did so," answered I, "as indeed I frequently do: and whenever I see you, my Brutus, I am concerned to think where your wonderful genius, your finished erudition, and unparalleled industry will find a theatre to display themselves. For after you had thoroughly improved your abilities, by pleading a variety of important causes; and when my declining vigour was just giving way, and lowering the ensigns of dignity to your more active talents; the liberty of the State received a fatal overthrow, and that Eloquence, of which we are now to give the History, was condemned to perpetual silence."—"Our other misfortunes," replied Brutus, "I lament sincerely; and I think I ought to lament them:—but as to Eloquence, I am not so fond of the influence and the glory it bestows, as of the study and the practice of it, which nothing can deprive me of, while you are so well disposed to assist me: for no man can be an eloquent speaker, who has not a clear and ready conception. Whoever, therefore, applies himself to the study of Eloquence, is at the same time improving his judgment, which is a talent equally necessary in all military operations."
"Your remark," said I, "is very just; and I have a higher opinion of the merit of eloquence, because, though there is scarcely any person so diffident as not to persuade himself, that he either has, or may acquire every other accomplishment which, formerly, could have given him consequence in the State; I can find no person who has been made an orator by the success of his military prowess.—But that we may carry on the conversation with greater ease, let us seat ourselves."—As my visitors had no objection to this, we accordingly took our seats in a private lawn, near a statue of Plato.
Then resuming the conversation—"to recommend the study of eloquence," said I, "and describe its force, and the great dignity it confers upon those who have acquired it, is neither our present design, nor has any necessary connection with it. But I will not hesitate to affirm, that whether it is acquired by art or practice, or the mere powers of nature, it is the most difficult of