Nothing is so difficult (says Cicero) as the choice of a profession, inasmuch as “the choice has commonly to be made when the judgment is weakest”.  Some tread in their father’s steps, others beat out a fresh line of their own; and (he adds, perhaps not without a personal reference) this is generally the case with those born of mean parents, who propose to carve their own way in the world.  But the parvenu of Arpinum—­the ‘new man’, as aristocratic jealousy always loved to call him—­is by no means insensible to the true honours of ancestry.  “The noblest inheritance”, he says, “that can ever be left by a father to his son, far excelling that of lands and houses, is the fame of his virtues and glorious actions”; and saddest of all sights is that of a noble house dragged through the mire by some degenerate descendant, so as to be a by-word among the populace,—­“which may” (he concludes) “be justly said of but too many in our times”.

The Roman’s view of the comparative dignity of professions and occupations is interesting, because his prejudices (if they be prejudices) have so long maintained their ground amongst us moderns.  Tax-gatherers and usurers are as unpopular now as ever—­the latter very deservedly so.  Retail trade is despicable, we are told, and “all mechanics are by their profession mean”.  Especially such trades as minister to mere appetite or luxury—­butchers, fishmongers, and cooks; perfumers, dancers, and suchlike.  But medicine, architecture, education, farming, and even wholesale business, especially importation and exportation, are the professions of a gentleman.  “But if the merchant, satisfied with his profits, shall leave the seas and from the harbour step into a landed estate, such a man seems justly deserving of praise”.  We seem to be reading the verdict of modern English society delivered by anticipation two thousand years ago.

The section ends with earnest advice to all, that they should put their principles into practice.  “The deepest knowledge of nature is but a poor and imperfect business”, unless it proceeds into action.  As justice consists in no abstract theory, but in upholding society among men,—­as “greatness of soul itself, if it be isolated from the duties of social life, is but a kind of uncouth churlishness",—­so it is each citizen’s duty to leave his philosophic seclusion of a cloister, and take his place in public life, if the times demand it, “though he be able to number the stars and measure out the world”.

The same practical vein is continued in the next book.  What, after all, are a man’s real interests? what line of conduct will best advance the main end of his life?  Generally, men make the fatal mistake of assuming that honour must always clash with their interests, while in reality, says Cicero, “they would obtain their ends best, not by knavery and underhand dealing, but by justice and integrity”.  The right is identical with the expedient.  “The way to secure the favour of the gods is by upright dealing; and next to the gods, nothing contributes so much to men’s happiness as men themselves”.  It is labour and co-operation which have given us all the goods which we possess.