good man, whom accident had thrust into a place to which he was unequal; and ignorant of himself, and unwilling to part with his imaginary greatness, he was flung down with careless cruelty by the forces which were dividing the world." We are inclined to agree with this estimate; and one reason for believing in its general correctness is, to our mind, the fact that Cicero's intimate knowledge and keen insight had led him to much the same conclusion. Mr Froude's view that Cicero's vanity estranged him from Cæsar's party, because he could not be the first man in it, is, we think, a complete misconception. Cicero had finally chosen his side long before Cæsar had become the foremost Roman: and, for that matter, it was Pompey, not Cicero, whom the Optimates regarded as their head. But, without viewing Cicero as an alarmed egotist, we may admit that no one was better qualified to appreciate the difference between the two leaders. "Cicero," says Mr Froude, "is the second great figure in the history of the time." He describes him as "a tragic combination of magnificent talents, high aspirations, and true desire to do right, with an infirmity of purpose and a latent insincerity of character which neutralised and could almost make us forget his nobler qualities."
"In Cicero Nature half made a great man and left him uncompleted. Our characters are written in our forms, and the bust of Cicero is the key to his history. The brow is broad and strong, the nose large, the lips tightly compressed, the features lean and keen from restless intellectual energy. The loose bending
