cured the tradition of ideas and modes of thought which must otherwise have missed their influence on the world. There have been ages during which Plato and Aristotle have suffered eclipse; but perhaps hardly one in which Cicero's philosophic writings have not been cherished by at least a few men of letters. They have thus kept alive the memory of ancient philosophy, and have humanised the thoughts and words of one generation after another. If we were required to decide what ancient writings have most directly influenced the modern world, the award must probably go in favour of Plutarch's Lives and of the philosophic works of Cicero.[1]
Tullia's death marks a turning-point in Cicero's appreciation of Cæsar and his work. He is resolved that patience shall not be wanting, but he "has lost for ever that cheerfulness with which we used to season the bitterness of the time." It is characteristic of the man, their his private sorrow opens his eyes to the fact that the hopes which he has been indulging for the commonwealth are all delusions. When once the truth is grasped, Cæsar's proceedings during the last months of his life serve to confirm Cicero's melancholy conviction, and to bring him to the state of mind in which he is ready to approve the deed of the Ides of March.
"All is lost, my dear Atticus," he writes[2] in the month of his daughter's death, "all is lost; that is
