The letters of Cicero are among the most interesting remains of antiquity.

The ancients paid more attention to letter-writing than we do; they

thought their friends as worthy as the public of well-weighed expressions

and a careful style. But no other writer who has come down to us can be

compared with Cicero, for the grace, the naturalness, and the unreserve of

his communications. Seneca and Pliny, Walpole and Pope, wrote for the

world, not for their correspondents. Among the moderns Mme. de Sévigné

approaches most nearly to the excellences of Cicero.

In the days when newspapers were unknown a Roman provincial governor

depended for information solely upon private letters. It was of the utmost

importance that he should hear from the capital and be able to convey his

own messages to it. Yet, unless he was able to maintain couriers of his

own, it was almost impossible to send or receive news. In such cases he

had to depend on the fidelity of chance messengers, a precarious ground of

confidence. We find that all the great nobles retained in their service

one or more of these _tabellarii_. Cicero was often disquieted by the

thought that his letters might have miscarried; at times he dared not

write at all, so great was the risk of accident or foul play.

Letters were sometimes written on parchment with a reed [78] dipped in

ink, [79] but far more frequently on waxen tablets with the _stilus_. Wax

was preferred to other material, as admitting a swifter hand and an easier

erasure. When Cicero wrote, his ideas came so fast that his handwriting

became illegible. His brother more than once complains of this defect. We

hear of his writing three letters to Atticus in one day. Familiar missives

like these were penned at any spare moment during the day's business, at

the senate during a dull speech, at the forum when witnesses were being

examined, at the bath, or oftener still between the courses at dinner.

Thrown off in a moment while the impression that dictated them was still

fresh, they bear witness to every changing mood, and lay bare the inmost

soul of the writer. But, as a rule, few Romans were at the pains to write

their letters with their own hand. They delegated this mechanical process

to slaves. [80] It seems strange that nothing similar to our running hand

should have been invented among them. Perhaps it was owing to the

abundance of these humble aids to labour. From the constant use of

amanuenses it often resulted that no direct evidence of authorship existed

beyond the appended seal. When Antony read before the senate a private

letter from Cicero, the orator replied, "What madness it is to bring

forward as a witness against me a letter of which I might with perfect

impunity deny the genuineness." The seal, stamped with the signet-ring,

was of wax, and laid over the fastening of the thread which bound the

tablets together. Hence the many ingenious devices for obliterating,

softening, or imitating the impression, which are so often alluded to by

orators and satirists.

Many of the more important letters, such as Cicero's to Lentulus, that of

Quintus to Cicero, &c. were political pamphlets, which, after they had

done their work, were often published, and met with a ready sale. It is

impossible to ascertain approximately the amount of copying that went on

in Rome, but it was probably far less than is generally supposed. There is

nothing so cramping to the inventive faculty as the existence of slave

labour. How else can we account for the absence of any machinery for

multiplying copies of documents, an inconvenience which, in the case of

the _acta diurna_, as well as of important letters, must have been keenly

felt? Even shorthand and cipher, though known, were rarely practised.

Caesar, [81] however, used them; but in many points he was beyond his age.

In America, where labour is refractory, mechanical substitutes for it are

daily being invented. A calculating machine, and a writing machine, which

not only multiplies but forms the original copy, are inventions so simple

as to indicate that it was want of enterprise rather than of ingenuity

which, made the Romans content with such an imperfect apparatus.

To write a letter well one must have the desire to please. This Cicero

possessed to an almost feminine extent. He thirsted for the approbation of

the good, and when he could not get that he put up with the applause of

the many. And thus his letters are full of that heartiness and vigour

which comes from the determination to do everything he tries to do well.

They have besides the most perfect and unmistakable reality. Every foible

is confessed; every passing thought, even such as one would rather not

confess even to oneself, is revealed and recorded to his friend. It is

from these letters to a great extent that Cicero has been so severely

judged. He stands, say his critics, self-condemned. This is true; but it

is equally true that the ingenuity which pieces together a mosaic out of

these scattered fragments of evidence, and labels it _the character of

Cicero_, is altogether misapplied. One man may reveal everything; another

may reveal nothing; our opinion in either case must be based on the

inferences of common sense and experience of the world, for neither of

such persons is a witness to be trusted. Weakness and inconsistency are

visible indeed in all Cicero's letters; but who can imagine Caesar or

Crassus writing such letters at all? The perfect unreserve which gives

them their charm and their value for us is also the highest possible

testimony to the uprightness of their author.

The collection comprises a great variety of subjects and a considerable

number of correspondents. The most important are those to Atticus, which

were already published in the time of Nepos. Other large volumes existed,

of which only one, that entitled _ad Familiares_ has come down entire to

us. Like the volume to Atticus, it consists of sixteen books, extending

from the year after his consulship until that of his death. The collection

was made by Tiro, Cicero's freedman, after his death, and was perhaps the

earliest of the series. A small collection of letters to his brother (_ad

Quintum Fratrem_), in six books, still remains, and a correspondence

between Cicero and Brutus in two books. The former were written between

the years 60 and 54 B.C. the latter in the period subsequent to the death

of Caesar. The letters to Atticus give us information on all sorts of

topics, political, pecuniary, personal, literary. Everything that occupied

Cicero's mind is spoken of with freedom, for Atticus, though cold and

prudent, had the rare gift of drawing others out. This quality, as well as

his prudence, is attested by Cornelius Nepos; and we observe that when he

advised Cicero his counsel was almost always wise and right. He sustained

him in his adversity, when heart-broken and helpless he contemplated, but

lacked courage to commit suicide; and he sympathised with his success, as

well as aided him in a more tangible sense with the resources of his vast

fortune. Among the many things discussed in the letters we are struck by

the total absence of the philosophical and religious questions which in

other places he describes as his greatest delight. Religion, as we

understand it, had no place in his heart. If we did not possess the

letters, if we judged only by his dialogues and his orations, we should

have imagined him deeply interested in all that concerned the national

faith; but we see that in his genuine moments he never gave it a thought.

Politics, letters, art, his own fame, and the success of his party, such

are the points on which he loves to dwell. But he is also most

communicative on domestic matters, and shows the tenderest family feeling.

To his wife, until the unhappy period of his divorce, to his brother, to

his unworthy son, but above all to his daughter, his beloved _Tulliola_,

he pours forth, all the warmth of a deep affection; and even his freedman

Tiro comes in for a share of kindly banter which shows the friendly

footing on which the great man and his dependant stood. Cicero was of all

men the most humane. While accepting slavery as an institution of his

ancestors, he did all he could to make its burden lighter; he conversed

with his slaves, assisted them, mourned their death, and, in a word,

treated them as human beings. We learn from the letters that in this

matter, and in another of equal importance, the gladiatorial shows, Cicero

was far ahead of the feeling of his time. When he listened to his heart,

it always led him right. And if it led him above all things to repose

complete confidence on his one intimate friend, that only draws us to him

the more; he felt like Bacon that a crowd is not company, and faces are

but a gallery of pictures, and talk is but a tinkling cymbal, where there

is no love.

It only remains very shortly to mention his poetry. He himself knew that

he had not the poetic afflatus, but his immense facility of style which

made it as easy for him to write in verse as in prose, and his desire to

rival the Greeks in every department of composition, tempted him to essay

his wings in various flights of song. We have mentioned his poem on Marius

and those on his consulship and times, which pleased himself best and drew

forth from others the greatest ridicule. He wrote also versions from the

Iliad, of which he quotes several in various works; heroic poems called

_Halcyone_ and _Cimon_, an elegy called _Tamelastis_, [82] a _Libellus

iocularis_, about which we have no certain information, and various

epigrams to Tiro, Caninius, and others. It will he necessary to refer to

some of these works on a future page. We shall therefore pass them by

here, and conclude the chapter with a short notice of the principal

orators who were younger contemporaries of Cicero.

COELIUS, with whom Cicero was often brought into relations, was a quick,

polished, and sometimes lofty speaker; [83] CALIDIUS a delicate and

harmonious one. On one occasion when Calidius was accusing a man of

conspiring against his life, he pleaded with such smoothness and languor,

that Cicero, who was for the defence, at once gained his cause by the

_argumentum ad hominem. Tu istuc M. Calidi nisi fingeres sic ageres?

praesertim cum ista eloquentia alienorum hominum pericula defendere

acerrime soleas, tuum negligeres? Ubi dolor? ubi ardor animi, qui etiam ex

infantium ingeniis elicere voces et querelas solet? Nulla perturbatio

animi, nulla corporis: frons non percussa, non femur; pedis, quod minimum

est, nulla supplosio. Itaque tantum abfuit ut imflammares animos nostros,

somnum isto loco vix tenebamus_. [84] CURIO he describes as bold and

flowing; CALVUS from affectation of Attic purity, as cold, cautious, and

jejune. His dry, sententious style, to which BRUTUS also inclined, was a

reaction from the splendour of Cicero, a splendour which men like these

could never hope to reach; and perhaps it was better that they should

reject all ornament rather than misapply it. It seems that after Cicero

oratory had lost the fountain of its life; he responded so perfectly to

the exigencies of the popular taste and the possibilities of the time,

that after him no new theory of eloquence could be produced, while to

improve upon his practice was evidently hopeless. Thus the reaction that

comes after literary perfection conspired with the dawn of freedom to make

Cicero the last as well as the greatest of those who deserved the name of

orator; and we acknowledge the justice of the poet's epigram, [85]

questioned as it was at the time.

APPENDIX.

_Poetry of Cicero._

The poems of Cicero are of considerable importance to the student of Latin

versification. His great facility and formal polish made him successful in

producing a much more finished and harmonious cadence than had before been

attained. Coming between Ennius and Lucretius, and evidently studied by

the latter, he is an important link in metrical development. We propose in

this note merely to give some examples of his versification that the

student may judge for himself, and compare them with those of Lucretius,

Catullus, and Virgil. They are quoted from the edition of Orelli (vol. iv.

p. 0112 _sqq._).

From the _Marius_ (Cic. de Legg. I. i. § 2):

"Hic lovis altisoni subito pinnata satelles

Arboris e trunco serpentis saucia morsu

Subrigit, ipsa feris transfigens unguibus, anguem

Semianimum et varia graviter cervice micantem,

Quem se intorquentem lanians rostroque cruentans,

Iam saltata animos, iam duros ulta dolores,

Abiecit ceflantem et laceratum adfligit in unda,

Seque obitu a solis nitidos convertit ad ortus.

Hanc ubi praepetibus pennis lapsuque vo antem

Conspexit Marius, divini miminis augur,

Faustaque signa suae laudis reditusque notavit,

Partibus intonuit caeli pater ipse sinistris.

Sic aquilae clarum firmavit Iuppiter omen."

Praises of himself, from the poem on his consulship (Div. I. ii. § 17

_sqq._):

"Haec tardata diu species multumque morata

Consulet tandem celsa est in sede locata,

Atque una tixi ac signati temporis hora,

Iuppiter excelsa clarabat sceptra columna;

Et clades patriae flamma ferroque parata

Vocibus Allobrogum patribus populoque patebat.

Rite igitur veteres quorum monumenta tenetis,

Qui populos urbisque modo ac virtute regebant,

Ritectiam vestri quorum pietasque fidesque

Praestitit ac longe vicit sapientia cunctos

Praecipue coluere vigenti numine divos.

Haec adeo penitus cura videri sagaci

Otia qui studiis laeti tenuere decoris,

Inque Academia umbrifera nitidoque Lyceo

Fuderunt claras fecundi pectoris artis:

E quibus ereptum primo iam a flore in ventae,

Te patria in media virtuttum mole locavit.

Tu tamen auxiferas curas requiete relaxans

Quod patriae vacat id studiis nobisque dedisti."

We append some verses by Quintus Cicero, who the orator declared would

make a better poet than himself. They are on the twelve constellations,

a well-worn but apparently attractive subject:

"Flumina verna cient obscuro lumine Pisces,

Curriculumque Aries aequat noctisque dieque,

Cornua quem comunt florum praenuntia Tauri,

Aridaque aestatis Gemini primordia pandunt,

Longaque iam minuit praeclarus lumina Cancer,

Languiticusque Leo proflat ferus ore calores.

Post modicum quatiens Virgo fugat orta vaporem.

Autumnni reserat porfas aequatque diurna

Tempora nocturnis disperse sidere Libra,

Et fetos ramos denudat flamma Nepai.

Pigra sagittipotens iaculatur frigora terris.

Bruma gelu glacians iubare spirat Capricorni:

Quam sequitur nebulas rorans liquor altus Aquari:

Tanta supra circaque vigent ubi flumina. Mundi

At dextra laevaque cict rota fulgida Solis

Mobile curriculum, et Lunae simulacra feruntur.

Squama sub aeterno conspectu torta Draconis

Eminet: hanc inter fulgentem sidera septem

Magna quatit stellans, quam serrans serus in alia

Conditur Oceani ripa cum luce Bootes."

This is poor stuff; two epigrams are more interesting:

I.

"Crede ratem ventis, animum ne crede puellis:

Namque est feminea tutior unda fide."

II.

"Femina nulla bona est, et, si bona contigit ulla,

Nescio quo fato res mala facta bona."

We observe the entire lack of inspiration, combined with considerable

smoothness, but both, in a feebler degree, which are characteristic of his

brother's poems.

CHAPTER III.

HISTORICAL AND BIOGRAPHICAL COMPOSITION--CAESAR--NEPOS--SALLUST.

It is well known that Cicero felt strongly tempted to write a history of

Rome. Considering the stirring events among which he lived, the grandeur

of Rome's past, and the exhaustless literary resources which he himself

possessed, we are not surprised either at his conceiving the idea or at

his friends encouraging it. Nevertheless it is fortunate for his literary

fame that he abandoned the proposal, [1] for he would have failed in

history almost more signally than he did in poetry. His mind was not

adapted for the kind of research required, nor his judgment for weighing

historic evidence. When Lucceius announced his intention of writing a

history which should include the Catilinarian conspiracy, Cicero did not

scruple to beg him to enlarge a little on the truth. "You must grant

something to our friendship; let me pray you to delineate my exploits in a

way that shall reflect the greatest possible glory on myself." [2] A lax

conception of historical responsibility, which is not peculiar to Cicero.

He is but an exaggerated type of his nation in this respect. No Roman

author, unless it be Tacitus, has been able fully to grasp the extreme

complexity as well as difficulty of the historian's task. Even the sage

Quintilian maintains the popular misconception when he says, "History is

closely akin to poetry, and is written for purposes of narration not of

proof; being composed with the motive of transmitting our fame to

posterity, it avoids the dulness of continuous narrative by the use of

rarer words and freer periphrases." [3] We may conclude that this

criticism is based on a careful study of the greatest recognised models.

This false opinion arose no doubt from the narrowness of view which

persisted in regarding all kinds of literature as merely exercises in

_style_. For instance accuracy of statements was not regarded as the goal

and object of the writer's labours, but rather as a useful means of

obtaining _clearness of arrangement_; abundant information helped towards

_condensation_; original observation towards _vivacity_; personal

experience of the events towards _pathos_ or _eloquence_.

So unfortunately prevalent was this view that a writer was not called a

historian unless he had considerable pretensions to style. Thus, men who

could write, and had written, in an informal way, excellent historical

accounts, were not studied by their countrymen as historians. Their

writings were relegated to the limbo of antiquarian remains. The habit of

writing notes of their campaigns, memoranda of their public conduct,

copies of their speeches, &c. had for some time been usual among the abler

or more ambitious nobles. Often these were kept by them, laid by for

future elaboration: oftener still they were published, or sent in the form

of letters to the author's friends. The letters of Cicero and his numerous

correspondents present such a series of raw material for history; and in

reading any of the antiquarian writers of Rome we are struck by the large

number of monographs, essays, pamphlets, rough notes, commentaries, and

the like, attributed to public men, to which they had access.

It is quite clear that for many years these documents had existed, and

equally clear that, unless their author was celebrated or their style

elegant, the majority of readers entirely neglected them. Nevertheless

they formed a rich material for the diligent and capable historian. In

using them, however, we could not expect him to show the same critical

acumen, the same impartiality, as a modern writer trained in scientific

criticism and the broad culture of international ideas; to expect this

would be to expect an impossibility. To look at events from a national

instead of a party point of view was hard; to look at them from a human

point of view, as Polybius had done, was still harder. Thus we cannot

expect from Republican Rome any historical work of the same scope and

depth as those of Herodotus and Thucydides; neither the dramatic genius of

the one nor the philosophic insight of the other was to be gained there.

All we can look for is a clear comprehensive narrative, without flagrant

misrepresentation, of some of the leading episodes, and such we

fortunately possess in the memoirs of Caesar and the biographical essays

of Sallust.

The immediate object of the Commentaries of JULIUS CAESAR (100-44 B.C.),

was no doubt to furnish the senate with an authentic military report on

the Gallic and Civil Wars. But they had also an ulterior purpose. They

aspired to justify their author in the eyes of Rome and of posterity in

his attitude of hostility to the constitution.

Pompey was perhaps quite as desirous of supreme power as Caesar, and was

equally ready to make all patriotic motives subordinate to self-interest.

Nevertheless he gained, by his connexion with the senate, the reputation

of defender of the constitution, and thought fit to appropriate the

language of patriotism. Caesar, in his _Commentaries_--which, though both

unfinished and, historically speaking, unconnected with one another,

reveal the deeper connexion of successive products of the same creative

policy--labours throughout to show that he acted in accordance with the

forms of the constitution and for the general good of Rome. This he does

not as a rule attempt to prove by argument. Occasionally he does so, as

when any serious accusation was brought against the legitimacy of his

acts; and these are among the most important and interesting chapters in

his work. [4] But his habitual method of exculpating himself is by his

persuasive moderation of statement, and his masterly collocation of

events. In reading the narrative of the Civil War it is hard to resist the

conviction that he was unfairly treated. Without any terms of reprobation,

with scarcely any harsh language, with merely that wondrous skill in

manipulating the series of facts which genius possesses, he has made his

readers, even against their prepossession, disapprove of Pompey's attitude

and condemn the bitter hostility of the senate. So, too, in the report of

the Gallic War, where diplomatic caution was less required, the same

apparent candour, the same perfect statement of his case, appears. In

every instance of aggressive and ambitious war, there is some equitable

proposal refused, some act of injustice not acknowledged, some

infringement of the dignity of the Roman people committed, which makes it

seem only natural that Caesar should exact reprisals by the sword. On two

or three occasions he betrays how little regard he had for good faith when

barbarians were in consideration, and how completely absent was that

generous clemency in the case of a vanquished foreign prince, which when

exercised towards his own countrymen procured him such enviable renown.

[5] His treacherous conduct towards the Usipetes and Tenchteri, which he

relates with perfect _sang froid_, [6] is such as to shock us beyond

description; his brutal vengeance upon the Atuatici and Veneti, [7] all

whose leading men he murdered, and sold the rest, to the number of 53,000,

by auction; his cruel detention of the noble Vercingetorix, who, after

acting like an honourable foe in the field, voluntarily gave himself up to

appease the conqueror's wrath; [8] these are blots in Caesar's scutcheon,

which, if they do not place him below the recognised standard of action of

the time, prevent him from being placed in any way above it. The theory

that good faith is unnecessary with an uncivilised foe, is but the other

side of the doctrine that it is merely a thing of expediency in the case

of a civilised one. And neither Rome herself, nor many of her greatest

generals, can free themselves from the grievous stain of perfidious

dealing with those whom they found themselves powerful enough so to treat.

But if we can neither approve the want of principle, nor accept the _ex

parte_ statements which are embodied in Caesar's _Commentaries_, we can

admire to the utmost the incredible and almost superhuman activity which,

more than any other quality, enabled him to overcome his enemies. This is

evidently the means on which he himself most relied. The prominence he has

given to it in his writings makes it almost equivalent to a precept. The

burden of his achievements is the continual repetition of _quam celerrime

contendendum ratus,--maximis citissimisque itineribus profectus_,--and

other phrases describing the rapidity of his movements. By this he so

terrified the Pompeians that, hearing he was _en route_ for Rome, they

fled in such dismay as not even to take the money they had amassed for the

war, but to leave it a prey to Caesar. And by the want of this, as he

sarcastically observes, the Pompeians lost their only chance of crushing

him, when, driven from Dyrrhachium, with his army seriously crippled and

provisions almost exhausted, he must have succumbed to the numerous and

well-fed forces opposed to him. [9] He himself would never have committed

such a mistake. The after-work of his victories was frequently more

decisive than the victories themselves. He always pursued his enemies into

their camp, by storming which he not only broke their spirit, but made it

difficult for them to retain their unity of action. No man ever knew so

well the truth of the adage "nothing succeeds like success;" and his

_Commentaries_ from first to last are instinct with a triumphant

consciousness of his knowledge and of his having invariably acted upon it.

A feature which strikes every reader of Caesar is the admiration and

respect he has for his soldiers. Though unsparing of their lives when

occasion demanded, he never speaks of them as "food for powder." Once,

when his men clamoured for battle, but he thought he could gain his point

without shedding blood, he refused to fight, though the discontent became

alarming: "Cur, etiam secundo praelio, aliquas ex suis amitteret? Cur

vulnerari pateretur optime meritos de se milites? cur denique fortunam

periclitaretur, praesertim cum non minus esset imperatoris consilio

superare quam gladio?" This consideration for the lives of his soldiers,

when the storm was over, won him gratitude; and it was no single instance.

Everywhere they are mentioned with high praise, and no small portion of

the victory is ascribed to them. Stories of individual valour are

inserted, and several centurions singled out for special commendation.

Caesar lingers with delight over the exploits of his tenth legion.

Officers and men are all fondly remembered. The heroic conduct of Pulfio

and Varenus, who challenge each other to a display of valour, and by each

saving the other's life are reconciled to a friendly instead of a hostile

rivalry; [10] the intrepidity of the veterans at Lissus, whose self-

reliant bravery calls forth one of the finest descriptions in the whole

book; [11] and the loyal devotion of all when he announces his critical

position, and asks if they will stand by him, [12] are related with

glowing pride. Numerous other merely incidental notices, scattered through

both works, confirm the pleasing impression that commander and commanded

had full confidence in each other; and he relates [13] with pardonable

exultation the speaking fact that among all the hardships they endured

(hardships so terrible that Pompey, seeing the roots on which they

subsisted, declared he had beasts to fight with and not men) not a soldier

except Labienus and two Gaulish officers ever deserted his cause, though

thousands came over to him from the opposite side. It is the greatest

proof of his power over men, and thereby, of his military capacity, that

perhaps it is possible to show.

Besides their clear description of military manoeuvres, of engineering,

bridge-making, and all kinds of operations, in which they may be compared

with the despatches of the great generals of modern times, Caesar's

_Commentaries_ contain much useful information regarding the countries he

visited. There is a wonderful freshness and versatility about his mind.

While primarily considering a country, as he was forced to do, from its

strategical features, or its capacity for furnishing contingents or

tribute, he was nevertheless keenly alive to all objects of interest,

whether in nature or in human customs. The inquiring curiosity with which

Lucan upbraids him during his visit to Egypt, if it were not on that

occasion assumed, as some think, to hide his real projects, was one of the

chief characteristics of his mind. As soon as he thought Gaul was quiet he

hurried to Illyria, [14] animated by the desire to see those nations, and

to observe their customs for himself. His journey into Britain, though by

Suetonius attributed to avarice, which had been kindled by the report of

enormous pearls of fine quality to be found on our coasts, is by himself

attributed to his desire to see so strange a country, and to be the first

to conquer it. [15] His account of our island, though imperfect, is

extremely interesting. He mentions many of our products. The existence of

lead and iron ore was known to him; he does not allude to tin, but its

occurrence can hardly have been unknown to him. He remarks that the beech

and pine do not grow in the south of England, which is probably an

inaccuracy; [16] and he falls into the mistake of supposing that the north

of Scotland enjoys in winter a period of thirty days total darkness. His

account of Gaul, and, to a certain extent, of Germany, is more explicit.

He gives a fine description of the Druids and their mysterious religion,

noticing in particular the firm belief in the immortality of the soul,

which begot indifference to death, and was a great incentive to bravery.

[17] The effects of this belief are dwelt on by Lucan in one of his most

effective passages, [18] which is greatly borrowed from Caesar. Their

knowledge of letters, and their jealous restriction of it to themselves

and express prohibition of any written literature, he attributes partly to

their desire to keep the people ignorant, the common feeling of a powerful

priesthood, and partly to a conviction that writing injures the memory,

which among men of action should be kept in constant exercise. His

acquaintance with German civilization is more superficial, and shows that

incapacity for scientific criticism which was common to all antiquity.

[19] His testimony to the chastity of the German race, confirmed

afterwards by Tacitus, is interesting as showing one of the causes which

have contributed to its greatness. He relates, with apparent belief, the

existence of several extraordinary quadrupeds in the vast Hercynian

forest, such as the unicorn of heraldry, which here first appears; the

elk, which has no joints to its legs, and cannot lie down, whose bulk he

depreciates as much as he exaggerates that of the urus or wild bull, which

he describes as hardly inferior to the elephant in size. To have slain one

of these gigantic animals, and carried off its horns as a trophy, was

almost as great a glory as the possession of the grizzly bear's claws

among the Indians of the Rocky Mountains. Some of his remarks on the

temper of the Gauls might be applied almost without change to their modern

representatives. The French _élan_ is done ample justice to, as well as

the instability and self-esteem of that great people. "_Ut ad bella

suscipienda Gallorum alacer et promptus est animus, sic mollis ac minime

resistens ad calamitates perferendas mens eorum est_." [20] And again,

"_quod sunt in capessendis consiliis mobiles et novis plerumque rebus

student_." [21] He notices the tall stature of both Gauls and Germans,

which was at first the cause of some terror to his soldiers, and some

contemptuousness on their part. [22] "_Plerisque hominibus Gallis prae

magnitudine corporum suorum brevitas nostra contemptui est_."

Caesar himself was of commanding presence, great bodily endurance, and

heroic personal daring. These were qualities which his enemies knew how to

respect. On one occasion, when his legions were blockaded in Germany, he

penetrated at night to his camp disguised as a Gaul; and in more than one

battle he turned the fortune of the day by his extraordinary personal

courage, fighting on foot before his wavering troops, or snatching the

standard from the centurion's timid grasp. He took the greatest pains to

collect accurate information, and frequently he tells us who his

informants were. [23] Where there was no reason for the suppression or

misrepresentation of truth, Caesar's statements may be implicitly relied

on. No man knew human nature better, or how to decide between conflicting

assertions. He rarely indulges in conjecture, but in investigating the

motives of his adversaries he is penetrating and unmerciful. At the

commencement of the treatise on the civil war he gives his opinion as to

the considerations that weighed with Lentulus, Cato, Scipio, and Pompey;

and it is characteristic of the man that of all he deals most hardly with

Cato, whose pretensions annoyed him, and in whose virtue he did not

believe. To the bravest of his Gallic enemies he is not unjust. The Nervii

in particular, by their courage and self-devotion, excite his warm

admiration, [24] and while he felt it necessary to exterminate them, they

seem to have been among the very few that moved his pity.

As to the style of these two great works, no better criticism can be given

than that of Cicero in the _Brutus_; [25] "They are worthy of all praise:

they are unadorned, straightforward, and elegant, every ornament being

stripped off as it were a garment. While he desired to give others the

material out of which to create a history; he may perhaps have done a

kindness to conceited writers who wish to trick them out with meretricious

graces; [26] but he has deterred all men of sound taste from touching

them. For in history a pure and brilliant conciseness of style is the

highest attainable beauty." Condensed as they are, and often almost bald,

they have that matchless clearness which marks the mind that is master of

its entire subject. We have only to compare them with the excellent but

immeasurably inferior commentaries of Hirtius to estimate their value in

this respect. Precision, arrangement, method, are qualities that never

leave them from beginning to end. It is much to be regretted that they are

so imperfect and that the text is not in a better state. In the _Civil

War_ particularly, gaps frequently occur, and both the beginning and the

end are lost. They were written during the campaign, though no doubt cast

into their present form in the intervals of winter leisure. Hirtius, who,

at Caesar's request, appended an eighth book to the _Gallic War_, tells us

in a letter to Balbus, how rapidly he wrote. "I wish that those who will

read my book could know how unwillingly I took it in hand, that I might

acquit myself of folly and arrogance in completing what Caesar had begun.

For all agree; that the elegance of these commentaries surpasses the most

laborious efforts of other writers. They were edited to prevent historians

being ignorant of matters of such high importance. But so highly are they

approved by the universal verdict that the power of amplifying them has

been rather taken away than bestowed by their publication. [27] And yet I

have a right to marvel at this even more than others. For while others

know how faultlessly they are written, I know with what ease and rapidity

he dashed them off. For Caesar, besides the highest conceivable literary

gift, possessed the most perfect skill in explaining his designs." This

testimony of his most intimate friend is confirmed by a careful perusal of

the works, the elaboration of which, though very great, consists, not in

the execution of details, but in the carefully meditated design. The

_Commentaries_ have always been a favourite book with soldiers as with

scholars. Their Latinity is not more pure than their tactics are

instructive. Nor are the loftier graces of composition wanting. The

speeches of Curio rise into eloquence. [28] Petreius's despair at the

impending desertion of his army [29] is powerfully drawn, and the

contrast, brief but effective, between the Pompeians' luxury and his own

army's want of common necessaries, assumes all the grandeur of a moral

warning. [30]

The example of their general and their own devotion induced other

distinguished men to complete his work. A. Hirtius (consul 43 B.C.), who

served with him in the Gallic and Civil Wars, as we have seen, added at

his request an eighth book to the history of the former; and in the

judgment of the best critics the _Alexandrine War_ is also by his hand.

From these two treatises, which are written in careful imitation of

Caesar's manner, we form a high conception of the literary standard among

men of education. For Hirtius, though a good soldier and an efficient

consul, was a literary man only by accident. It was Caesar who ordered him

to write, first a reply to Cicero's panegyric on Cato, and then the Gallic

Commentary. Nevertheless, his two books show no inferiority in taste or

diction to those of his illustrious chief. They of course lack his genius;

but there is the same purity of style, the same perfect moderation of

language.

Nothing is more striking than the admirable taste of the highest

conversational language at Rome in the seventh century of the Republic.

Not only Hirtius, but Matius, Balbus, Sulpicius, Brutus, Cassius and other

correspondents of Cicero, write to him in a dialect as pure as his own. It

is true they have not his grace, his inimitable freedom and copiousness.

Most of them are somewhat laboured, and give us the impression of having

acquired with difficulty the control of their inflexible material. But the

intimate study of the noble language in which they wrote compels us to

admit that it was fully equal to the clear exposition of the severest

thought and the most subtle diplomatic reasoning. But its prime was

already passing. Even men of the noblest family could not without long

discipline attain the lofty standard of the best conversational

requirements. Sextus Pompeius is said to have been _sermone barbarus_.

[31] On this Niebuhr well remarks: "It is remarkable to see how at that

time men who did not receive a thorough education neglected their mother-

tongue, and spoke a corrupt form of it. The _urbanitas_, or perfection of

the language, easily degenerated unless it were kept up by careful study.

Cicero [32] speaks of the _sermo urbanus_ in the time of Laelius, and

observes that the ladies of that age spoke exquisitely. But in Caesar's

time it had begun to decay." Caesar, in one of his writings, tells his

reader to shun like a rock every unusual form of speech. [33] And this

admirable counsel he has himself generally followed--but few

provincialisms or archaisms can be detected in his pages. [34] In respect

of style he stands far at the head of all the Latin historians. The

authorship of the _African War_ is doubtful; it seems best, with Niebuhr,

to assign it to Oppius. The _Spanish War_ is obviously written by a person

of a different sort. It may either be, as Niebuhr thinks, the work of a

centurion or military tribune in the common rank of life, or, as we

incline to think, of a provincial, perhaps a Spaniard, who was well read

in the older literature of Rome, but could not seize the complex and

delicate idiom of the _beau monde_ of his day. With vulgarisms like _bene

magni, in opere distenti_, [35] and inaccuracies like _ad ignoscendum_ for

_ad se excusandum_, [36] _quam opimam_ for _quam optimam_, [37] he

combines quotations from Ennius, _e.g. hic pes pede premitur, armis

teruntur arma_, [38] and rhetorical constructions, _e.g. alteri alteris

non solum mortem morti exaggerabant, sed tumulos tumulis exaequabant_.

[39] He quotes the words of Caesar in a form of which we can hardly

believe the dictator to have been guilty: "_Caesar gives conditions: he

never receives them_:" [40] and again, "_I am Caesar: I keep my faith_."

[41] Points like these, to which we may add his fondness for dwelling on

horrid details [42] (always omitted by Caesar), and for showy

descriptions, as that of the single combat between Turpio and Niger, [43]

seem to mark him out as in mind if not in race a Spaniard. These are the

very features we find recurring in Lucan and Seneca, which, joined to

undoubted talent, brought a most pernicious element into the Latin style.

To us Caesar's literary power is shown in the sphere of history. But to

his contemporaries he was even more distinguished in other fields. As an

orator he was second, and only second, to Cicero. [44] His vigorous sense,

close argument, brilliant wit, and perfect command of language, made him,

from his first appearance as accuser of Dolabella at the age of 22, one of

the foremost orators of Rome. And he possessed also, though he kept in

check, that greatest weapon of eloquence, the power to stir the passions.

But with him eloquence was a means, not an end. He spoke to gain his

point, not to acquire fame; and thus thought less of enriching than of

enforcing his arguments. One ornament of speech, however, he pursued with

the greatest zeal, namely, good taste and refinement; [45] and in this,

according to Cicero, he stood above all his rivals. Unhappily, not a

single speech remains; only a few characteristics fragments, from which we

can but feel the more how much we have lost. [46]

Besides speeches, which were part of his public life, he showed a deep

interest in science. He wrote a treatise on grammar, _de Analogia_, for

which he found time in the midst of one of his busiest campaigns [47] and

dedicated to Cicero, [48] much to the orator's delight. In the dedication

occur these generous words, "If many by study and practice have laboured

to express their thoughts in noble language, of which art I consider you

to be almost the author and originator, it is our duty to regard you as

one who has well deserved of the name and dignity of the Roman people."

The treatise was intended as an introduction to philosophy and eloquence,

and was itself founded on philosophical principles; [49] and beyond doubt

it brought to bear on the subject that luminous arrangement which was

inseparable from Caesar's mind. Some of his conclusions are curious; he

lays down that the genitive of _dies_ is _die_; [50] the genitive plural

of _panis, pars; panum, partum_; [51] the accusative of _turbo, turbonem_;

[52] the perfect of _mordeo_ and the like, _memordi_ not _momordi_; [53]

the genitive of _Pompeius, Pompeiii_. [54] The forms _maximus, optimus,

municipium_, [55] &c. which he introduced, seem to have been accepted on

his authority, and to have established themselves finally in the language.

As chief pontifex he interested himself with a digest of the _Auspices_,

which he carried as far as sixteen books. [56] The _Auguralia_, which are

mentioned by Priscian, are perhaps a second part of the same treatise. He

also wrote an essay on _Divination_, like that of Cicero. In this he

probably disclosed his real opinions, which we know from other sources

were those of the extremest scepticism. There seemed no incongruity in a

man who disbelieved the popular religion holding the sacred office of

pontifex. The persuasion that religion was merely a department of the

civil order was considered, even by Cicero, to absolve men from any

conscientious allegiance to it. After his elevation to the perpetual

dictatorship he turned his mind to astronomy, owing to the necessities of

the calendar; and composed, or at least published, several books which

were thought by no means unscientific, and are frequently quoted. [57] Of

his poems we shall speak in another place. The only remaining works are

his two pamphlets against Cato, to which Juvenal refers: [58]

"Maiorem quam sunt duo Caesaris Anticatones."

These were intended as a reply to Cicero's laudatory essay, but though

written with the greatest ability, were deeply prejudiced and did not

carry the people with them. [59] The witty or proverbial sayings of Caesar

were collected either during his life, or after his death, and formed an

interesting collection. Some of them attest his pride, as "_My word is

law_;" [60] "_I am not king, but Caesar_;" [61] others his clemency, as,

"_Spare the citizens_;" [62] others his greatness of soul, as, "_Caesar's

wife must be above suspicion_." [63]

Several of his letters are preserved; they are in admirable taste, but do

not present any special points for criticism. With Caesar ends the

collection of genuine letter-writers, who wrote in conversational style,

without reference to publicity. In after times we have indeed numerous so-

called letters, but they are no longer the same class of composition as

these, nor have any recent letters the vigour, grace, and freedom of those

of Cicero and Caesar.

A friend of many great men, and especially of Atticus, CORNELIUS NEPOS

(74?-24 B.C.) owes his fame to the kindness of fortune more than to his

own achievements. Had we possessed only the account of him given by his

friends, we should have bewailed the loss of a learned and eloquent

author. [64] Fortunately we have the means of judging of his talent by a

short fragment of his work _On Illustrious Men_, which, though it

relegates him to the second rank in intellect, does credit to his

character and heart. [65] It consists of the lives of several Greek

generals and statesmen, written in a compendious and popular style,

adapted especially for school reading, where it has always been in great

request. Besides these there are short accounts of Hamilcar and Hannibal,

and of the Romans, Cato and Atticus. The last-mentioned biography is an

extract from a lost work, _De Historicis Latinis_, among whom friendship

prompts him to class the good-natured and cultivated banker. The series of

illustrious men extended over sixteen books, and was divided under the

headings of kings, generals, lawyers, orators, poets, historians,

philosophers, and grammarians. To each of these two books were devoted,

one of Greek, and one of Latin examples. [66] Of those we possess the life

of Atticus is the only one of any historical value, the rest being mere

superficial compilations, and not always from the best authorities.

Besides the older generation, he had friends also among the younger.

Catullus, who like him came from Gallia Cisalpina, pays in his first poem

the tribute of gratitude, due probably to his timely patronage. The work

mentioned there as that on which the fame of Nepos rested was called

_Chronica_. It seems to have been a laborious attempt to form a

comparative chronology of Greek and Roman History, and to have contained

three books. Subsequently, he preferred biographical studies, in which

field, besides his chief work, he edited a series of _Exempla_, or

patterns for imitation, of the character of our modern _Self Help_, and

intended to wean youthful minds from the corrupt fashions of their time. A

_Life of Cicero_ would probably be of great use to us, had fortune spared

it; for Nepos knew Cicero well, and had access through Atticus to all his

correspondence. At Atticus's request he wrote also a biography of Cato at

greater length than the short one which we possess. It has been observed

by Merivale [67] that the Romans were specially fitted for biographical

writing. The rhetorical cast of their minds and the disposition to

reverence commanding merit made them admirable panygerists; and few would

celebrate where they did not mean to praise. Of his general character as a

historian Mr. Oscar Browning in his useful edition says: "He is most

untrustworthy. It is often difficult to disentangle the wilful

complications of his chronology; and he tries to enhance the value of what

he is relating by a foolish exaggeration which is only too transparent to

deceive." His style is clear, a merit attributable to the age in which he

lived, and, as a rule, elegant, though verging here and there to

prettiness. Though of the same age as Caesar he adopts a more modern

Latinity. We miss the quarried marble which polish hardens but does not

wear away. Nepos's language is a softer substance, and becomes thin

beneath the file. He is occasionally inaccurate. In the _Phocion_ [68] we

have a sentence incomplete; in the _Chabrias_ [69] we have an accusative

(_Agesilaum_) with nothing to govern it; we have _ante se_ for _ante eum_,

a fault, by the way, into which almost every Latin writer is apt to fall,

since the rules on which the true practice is built are among the subtlest

in any language. [70] We have poetical constructions, as _tollere consilia

iniit_; popular ones, as _infitias it, dum_ with the perfect tense, and

colloquialisms like _impraesentiarum_; we have Graecizing words like

_deuteretur, automatias_, and curious inflexions such as _Thuynis, Coti,

Datami_, genitives of _Thuys, Cotys_, [71] and _Datames_, respectively. We

see in Nepos, as in Xenophon, the first signs of a coming change. He forms

a link between the exclusively prosaic style of Cicero and Caesar, and

prose softened and coloured with poetic beauties, which was brought to

such perfection by Livy.

After the life of Hannibal, in the MS., occurred an epigram by the

grammarian Aemilius Probus inscribing the work to Theodosius. By this

scholars were long misled. It was Lambinus who first proved that the pure

Latinity of the lives could not, except by magic, be the product of the

Theodosian age; and as ancient testimony amply justified the assignment of

the life of Atticus to Nepos, and he was known also to have been the

author of just such a book as came out under Probus's name, the great

scholar boldly drew the conclusion that the series of biographies we

possess were the veritable work of Nepos. For a time controversy raged. A

_via media_ was discovered which regarded them as an abridgment in

Theodosius's time of the fuller original work. But even this, which was

but a concession to prejudice, is now generally abandoned, and few would

care to dispute the accuracy of Lambinus's penetrating criticism. [72]

The first artistic historian of Rome is C. SALLUSTIUS CRISPUS (86-34

B.C.). This great writer was born at Amiternum in the year in which Marius

died, and, as we know from himself, he came to Rome burning with ambition

to ennoble his name, and studied with that purpose the various arts of

popularity. He rose steadily through the quaestorship to the tribuneship

of the plebs (52 B.C.), and so became a member of the senate. From this

position he was degraded (50 B.C.) on the plea of adultery, committed some

years before with the wife of Annius Milo, a disgrace he seems to have

deeply felt, although it was probably instigated by political and not

moral disapprobation. For Sallust was a warm admirer and partisan of

Caesar, who in time (47 B.C.) made him praetor, thus restoring his rank;

and assigned him (46 B.C.) the province of Numidia, from which he carried

an enormous fortune, for the most part, we fear, unrighteously obtained.

On his return (45 B.C.), content with his success, he sank into private

life; and to the leisure and study of his later years we owe the works

that have made him famous. He employed his wealth in ministering to his

comfort. His favourite retreats were a villa at Tibur which had once been

Caesar's, and a magnificent palace which he built in the suburbs of Rome,

surrounded by pleasure-grounds, afterwards well-known as the "Gardens of

Sallust," and as the residence of successive emperors. The preacher of

ancient virtue was an adept in modern luxury. Augustus chose the

historian's dwelling as the scene of his most sumptuous entertainments;

Vespasian preferred it to the palace of the Caesars; Nerva and Aurelian,

stern as they were, made it their constant abode. [73] And yet Sallust was

not a happy man. The inconsistency of conduct and the whirlwind of

political passion in which most men then lived seems to have sapped the

springs of life and worn out body and mind before their time. Caesar's

activity had at his death begun to make him old; [74] Sallust lived only

to the age of 52; Lucretius and Catullus were even younger when they died.

And the views of life presented in their works are far from hopeful.

Sallust, indeed, praises virtue; but it is an ideal of the past, colossal

but extinct, on which his gloomy eloquence is exhausted. Among his

contemporaries he finds no vestige of ancient goodness; honour has become

a traffic, ambition has turned to avarice, and envy has taken the place of

public spirit. From this scene of turpitude he selects two men who in

diverse ways recall the strong features of antiquity. These are Caesar and

Cato; the one the idol of the people, whom with real persuasion they

adored as a god; [75] the other the idol of the senate, whom the Pompeian

poet exalts even above the gods. [76] The contrast and balancing of the

virtues of these two great men is one of the most effective passages in

Sallust. [77]

From his position in public life and from his intimacy with Caesar, he had

gained excellent opportunities of acquiring correct information. The

desire to write history seems to have come on him in later life. Success

had no more illusions for him. The bitterness with which he touches on his

early misfortunes [78] shows that their memory still rankled within him.

And the pains with which he justifies his historical pursuits indicate a

stifled anxiety to enter once more the race for honours, which yet

experience tells him is but vanity. The profligacy of his youth, grossly

overdrawn by malice, [79] was yet no doubt a ground of remorse; and though

the severity of his opening chapters is somewhat ostentatious, there is no

intrinsic mark of insincerity about them. They are, it is true, quite

superfluous. Iugurtha's trickery can be understood without a preliminary

discourse on the immortality of the soul; and Catiline's character is not

such as to suggest a preface on the dignity of writing history. But with

all their inappropriateness, these introductions are valuable specimens of

the writer's best thoughts and concentrated vigour of language. In the

_Catiline_, his earliest work, he announces his attention of subjecting

certain episodes of Roman history [80] to a thorough treatment, omitting

those parts which had been done justice to by former writers. Thus it is

improbable that Sallust touched the period of Sulla, [81] both from the

high opinion he formed of Sisenna's account, and from the words _neque

alio loco de Sullae rebus dicturi sumus_; [82] nevertheless, some of the

events he selected doubtless fell within Sulla's lifetime, and this may

have given rise to the opinion that he wrote a history of the dictator.

Though Sallust's _Historiae_ are generally described as a consecutive work

from the premature movements of Lepidus on Sulla's death [83] (78 B.C.) to

the end of the Mithridatic war (63 B.C.); this cannot be proved. It is

equally possible that his series of independent historical cameos may have

been published together, arranged in chronological order, and under the

common title of _Historiae_. The _Iugurtha_ and _Catilina_, however, are

separate works; they are always quoted as such, and formed a kind of

commencement and finish to the intermediate studies.

Of the histories (in five books dedicated to the younger Lucullus), we

have but a few fragments, mostly speeches, of which the style seems a

little fuller than usual: our judgment of the writer must be based upon

the two essays that have reached us entire, that on the war with Iugurtha,

and that on the Catilinarian conspiracy. Sallust takes credit to himself,

in words that Tacitus has almost adopted, [84] for a strict impartiality.

Compared with his predecessors he probably _was_ impartial, and

considering the closeness of the events to his own time it is doubtful

whether any one could have been more so. For he wisely confined himself to

periods neither too remote for the testimony of eye-witnesses, nor too

recent for the disentanglement of truth. When Catiline fell (63 B.C.) the

historian was twenty-two years old, and this is the latest point to which

his studies reach. As a friend of Caesar he was an enemy of Cicero, and

two declamations are extant, the productions of the reign of Claudius,

[85] in which these two great men vituperate one another. But no

vituperation is found in Sallust's works. There is, indeed, a coldness and

reserve, a disinclination to praise the conduct and even the oratory of

the consul which bespeaks a mind less noble than Cicero's, [86] But facts

are not perverted, nor is the odium of an unconstitutional act thrown on

Cicero alone, as we know it was thrown by Caesar's more unscrupulous

partisans, and connived at by Caesar himself. The veneration of Sallust

for his great chief is conspicuous. Caesar is brought into steady

prominence; his influence is everywhere implied. But Sallust, however

clearly he betrays the ascendancy of Caesar over himself, [87] does not on

all points follow his lead. While, with Caesar, he believes fortune, or

more properly chance, to rule human affairs, he retains his belief in

virtue and immortality, [88] both of which Caesar rejected. He can not

only admit, but glorify the virtues of Cato, which Caesar ridiculed and

denied. But he is anxious to set the democratic policy in the most

favourable light. Hence he depicts Cato rather than Cicero as the

senatorial champion, because his impracticable views seemed to justify

Caesar's opposition; [89] he throws into fierce relief the vices of

Scaurus who was _princeps Senatus_; [90] and misrepresents the conduct of

Turpilius through a desire to screen Marius. [91] As to his authorities,

we find that he gave way to the prevailing tendency to manipulate them.

The speeches of Caesar and Cato in the senate, which he surely might have

transcribed, he prefers to remodel according to his own ideas, eloquently

no doubt, but the originals would have been in better place, and entitled

him to our gratitude. The same may be said of the speech of Marius. That

of Memmius [92] he professes to give intact; but its genuineness is

doubtful. The letter of Catiline to Catulus, that of Lentulus and his

message to Catiline, may be accepted as original documents. [93] In the

sifting of less accessible authorities he is culpably careless. His

account of the early history of Africa is almost worthless, though he

speaks of having drawn it from the books of King Hiempsal, and taken pains

to insert what was generally thought worthy of credit. It is in the

delineation of character that Sallust's penetration is unmistakably shown.

Besides the instances already given, we may mention the admirable sketch

of Sulla, [94] and the no less admirable ones of Catiline [95] and

Iugurtha. [96] His power of depicting the terrors of conscience is

tremendous. No language can surpass in condensed but lifelike intensity

the terms in which he paints the guilty noble carrying remorse on his

countenance and driven by inward agony to acts of desperation. [97]

His style is peculiar. He himself evidently imitated, and was thought by

Quintilian to rival, Thucydides. [98] But the resemblance is in language

only. The deep insight of the Athenian into the connexion of events is far

removed from the popular rhetoric in which the Roman deplores the decline

of virtue. And the brevity, by which both are characterised, while in the

one it is nothing but the incapacity of the hand to keep pace with the

rush of thought, in the other forms the artistic result of a careful

process of excision and compression. While the one kindles reflection, the

other baulks it. Nevertheless the style of Sallust has a special charm and

will always find admirers to give it the palm among Latin histories. The

archaisms which adorn or deface it, the poetical constructions which tinge

its classicality, the rough periods without particles of connexion which

impart to it a masculine hardness, are so fused together into a harmonious

fabric that after the first reading most students recur to it with genuine

pleasure. [99] On the whole it is more modern than that of Nepos, and

resembles more than any other that of Tacitus. Its brevity rarely falls

into obscurity, though it sometimes borders on affectation. There is an

appearance as if he was never satisfied, but always straining after an

excellence beyond his powers. It is emphatically a cultured style, and, as

such often recalls older authors. Now it is a reminiscence of Homer:

_aliud clausum in pectore, aliud in lingua promptum habere_; [100] now of

a Latin tragedian: _secundae res sapientium animos fatigant_. Much

allowance must be made for Sallust's defects, when we remember that no

model of historical writing yet existed at Rome. Some of the aphorisms

which are scattered in his book are wonderfully condensed, and have passed

into proverbs. _Concordia parvae res crescunt_ from the _Iugurtha_; and

_idem velle, idem nolle, ea demum firma amicitia est_, from the

_Catiline_, are instances familiar to all. The prose of Sallust differs

from that of Cicero in being less rhythmical; the hexametrical ending

which the orator rightly rejects, is in him not infrequent. It is probably

a concession to Greek habit. [101] Sallust did good service in pointing

out what historical writing should be, and his example was of such service

to Livy that, had it not been for him, it is possible the great master-

history would never have been designed.

It does not appear that this period was fruitful in historians. Tubero

(49-47 B.C.) is the only other whose works are mentioned; the convulsions

of the state, the short but sullen repose, broken by Caesar's death (44

B.C.), the bloodthirsty sway of the triumvirs, and the contests which

ended in the final overthrow at Actium (31 B.C.), were not favourable to

historical enterprise. But private notes were carefully kept, and men's

memories were strengthened by silence, so that circumstances naturally

inculcated waiting in patience until the time for speaking out should have

arrived. [102]

APPENDIX.

_On the Acta Diurna and Acta Senatus._

It is well known that there was a sort of journal at Rome analogous,

perhaps, to our _Gazette_, but its nature and origin are somewhat

uncertain. Suetonius (Caes. 20) has this account: "_Inito honore, primus

omnium instituit, ut tam Senatus quam populi diurna acta conficerentur et

publicarentur_," which seems naturally to imply that the people's _acta_

had been published every day before Caesar's consulship, and that he did

the same thing for the _acta_ of the senate. Before investigating these we

must distinguish them from certain other _acta_:--(1) _Civilia_,

containing a register of births, deaths, marriages, and divorces, called

_apographai_ by Polybius, and alluded to by Cicero (_ad Fam._ viii. 7) and

others. These were at first intrusted to the care of the censors,

afterwards to the praefecti aerarii. (2) _Forensia_, comprising lists of

laws, plebiscites, elections of aediles, tribunes, &c. like the _daemosia

grammata_ at Athens, placed among the archives annexed to various temples,

especially that of Saturn. (3) _Iudiciaria_, the legal reports, often

called _gesta_, kept in a special _tabularium_, under the charge of

military men discharged from active service. (4) _Militaria_, which

contained reports of all the men employed in war, their height, age,

conduct, accomplishments, &c. These were entrusted to an officer called

_librarius legionis_ (Veg. ii. 19), or sometimes _tabularius castrensis_,

but so only in the later Latin. Other less strictly formal documents, as

lists of cases, precedents, &c. seem to have been also called _acta_, but

the above are the regular kinds.

The _Acta Senatus_ or deliberations of the senate were not published until

Caesar. They were kept jealously secret, as is proved by a quaint story by

Cato, quoted in Aulus Gellius (i. 23). At all important deliberations a

senator, usually the praetor as being one of the junior members, acted as

secretary. In the imperial times this functionary was always a confidant

of the emperor. The _acta_ were sometimes inscribed on _tabulae publicae_

(Cic. pro Sull. 14, 15), but only on occasions when it was held expedient

to make them known. As a rule the publication of the resolution (_Senatus

Consultum_) was the first intimation the people had of the decisions of

their rulers. In the times of the emperors there were also _acta_ of each

emperor, apparently the memoranda of state councils held by him, and

communicated to the senate for them to act upon. There appears also to

have been _acta_ of private families when the estates were large enough to

make it worth while to keep them. These are alluded to in Petronius

Arbiter (ch. 53). We are now come to the _Acta Diurna, Populi, Urbana_ or

_Publica_, by all which names the same thing is meant. The earliest

allusion to them is in a passage of Sempronius Asellio, who distinguishes

the annals from the _diaria_, which the Greeks call _ephaemeris_ (ap. A.

Gell. V. 18). When about the year 131 B.C. the _Annales_ were redacted

into a complete form, the _acta_ probably begun. When Servius (ad. Aen. i.

373) says that the _Annales_ registered each day all noteworthy events

that had occurred, he is apparently confounding them with the _acta_,

which seem to have quietly taken their place. During the time that Cicero

was absent in Cilicia (62 B.C.) he received the news of town from his

friend. Coelius (Cic. Fam. viii. 1, 8, 12, &c.). These news comprised all

the topics which we should find now-a-days in a daily paper. Asconius

Pedianus, a commentator on Cicero of the time of Claudius, in his notes on

the Milo (p. 47, ed. Orell. 1833), quotes several passages from the

_acta_, on the authority of which he bases some of his arguments. Among

them are analyses of forensic orations, political and judicial; and it is

therefore probable that these formed a regular portion of the daily

journal in the latest age of the Republic. When Antony offered Caesar a

crown on the feast of the Lupercalia, Caesar ordered it to be noted in the

_acta_ (Dio xliv. 11); Antony, as we know from Cicero, even entered the

fact in the _Fasti_, or religious calendar. Augustus continued the

publication of the _Acta Populi_, under certain limitations, analogous to

the control exercised over journalism by the governments of modern Europe;

but he interdicted that of the _Acta Senatus_ (Suet. Aug. 36). Later

emperors abridged even this liberty. A portico in Rome having been in

danger of falling and shored up by a skilful architect, Tiberius forbade

the publication of his name (Dio lvii. 21). Nero relaxed the supervision

of the press, but it was afterwards re-established. For the genuine

fragments of the _Acta_, see the treatise by Vict. Le Clerc, _sur les

journaux chez les Romains_, from which this notice is taken.

CHAPTER IV.

THE HISTORY OF POETRY TO THE CLOSE OF THE REPUBLIC--RISE OF ALEXANDRINISM

--LUCRETIUS--CATULLUS.

As long as the drama was cultivated poetry had not ceased to be popular in

its tone. But we have already mentioned that coincidentally with the rise

of Sulla dramatic productiveness ceased. We hear, indeed, that J. CAESAR

STRABO (about 90 B.C.) wrote tragedies, but they were probably never

performed. Comedy, as hitherto practised, was almost equally mute. The

only forms that lingered on were the _Atellanae_, and those few plebeian

types of comedy known as _Togata_ and _Tabernaria_. But even these had now

withered. The present epoch brings before us a fresh type of composition

in the _Mime_, which now first took a literary shape. Mimes had indeed

existed in some sort from a very early period, but no art had been applied

to their cultivation, and they had held a position much inferior to that

of the national farce. But several circumstances now conspired to bring

them into greater prominence. First, the great increase of luxury and

show, and with it the appetite for the gaudy trappings of the _spectacle_;

secondly, the failure of legitimate drama, and the fact that the

_Atellanae_, with their patrician surroundings, were only half popular;

and lastly, the familiarity with the different offshoots of Greek comedy,

thrown out in rank profusion at Alexandria, and capable of assimilation

with the plastic materials of the _Mimus_. These worthless products,

issued under the names of Rhinthon, Sopater, Sciras, and Timon, were

conspicuous for the entire absence of restraint with which they treated

serious subjects, as well as for a merry-andrew style of humour easily

naturalised, if it were not already present, among the huge concourse of

idlers who came to sate their appetite for indecency without altogether

sacrificing the pretence of a dramatic spectacle. Two things marked off

the _Mimus_ from the _Atellana_ or national farce; the players appeared

without masks, [1] and women were allowed to act. This opened the gates to

licentiousness. We find from Cicero that _Mimae_ bore a disreputable

character, [2] but from their personal charms and accomplishments often

became the chosen companions of the profligate nobles of the day. Under

the Empire this was still more the case. Kingsley, in his _Hypatia_, has

given a lifelike sketch of one of these elegant but dissolute females. To

these seductive innovations the Mime added some conservative features. It

absorbed many characteristics of legitimate comedy. The actors were not

necessarily _planipedes_ in fact, though they remained so in name; [3]

they might wear the _soccus_ [4] and the Greek dress [5] of the higher

comedy. The Mimes seem to have formed at this time interludes between the

acts of a regular drama. Hence they were at once simple and short,

seasoned with as many coarse jests as could be crowded into a limited

compass, with plenty of music, dancing, and expressive gesture-language.

Their plot was always the same, and never failed to please; it struck the

key-note of all decaying societies, the discomfiture of the husband by the

wife. [6] Nevertheless, popular as was the Mime, it was, even in Caesar's

time, obliged to share the palm of attractiveness with bear-fights, boxing

matches, processions of strange beasts, foreign treasures, captives of

uncouth aspect, and other curiosities, which passed sometimes for hours

across the stage, feeding the gaze of an unlettered crowd, to the utter

exclusion of drama and interlude alike. Thirty years later, Horace [7]

declares that against such competitors no play could get a silent hearing.

This being the lamentable state of things, we are surprised to find that

Mime writing was practised by two men of vigorous talent and philosophic

culture, whose fragments, so far from betraying any concession to the

prevailing depravity, are above the ordinary tone of ancient comic

morality. They are the knight D. LABERIUS (106-43 B.C.) and PUBLILIUS

SYRUS (fl. 44 B.C.), an enfranchised Syrian slave. It is probable that

Caesar lent his countenance to these writers in the hope of raising their

art. His patronage was valuable; but he put a great indignity (45 B.C.) on

Laberius. The old man, for he was then sixty years of age, had written

Mimes for a generation, but had never acted in them himself. Caesar, whom

he may have offended by indiscreet allusions, [8] recommended him to

appear in person against his rival Syrus. This recommendation, as he well

knew, was equivalent to a command. In the prologue he expresses his sense

of the affront with great manliness and force of language. We quote some

lines from it, as a specimen of the best plebeian Latin;

"Necessitas, cuius cursus, transversi impetum

Voluerunt multi effugere, pauci potuerunt,

Quo me detrusit paene extremis sensibus?

Quem nulla ambitio, nulla unquam largitio,

Nullus timor, vis nulla, nulla auctoritas

Movere potuit in inventa de statu,

Ecce in senecta ut facile labefecit loco

Viri excellentis mente clemente edita

Summissa placide blandiloquens oratio!

Et enim ipsi di negare cui nil potuerunt,

Hominem me denegare quis posset pati?

Ego bis tricenis actis annis sine nota,

Eques Romanus e lare egressus meo,

Domum revertormimus--ni mirum hoc die

Uno plus vixi mihi quam vivendum fuit.

* * * * *

Porro, Quirites, libertatem perdimus." [9]

In these noble lines we see the native eloquence of a free spirit. But the

poet's wrathful muse roused itself in vain. Caesar awarded the prize to

Syrus, saying to Laberius in an impromptu verse of polite condescension,

"Favente tibime victus, Laberi, es a Syro." [10]

From this time the old knight surrendered the stage to his younger and

more polished rival.

Syrus vas a native of Antioch, and remarkable from his childhood for the

beauty of his person and his sparkling wit, to which he owed his freedom.

His talent soon raised him to eminence as an improvisatore and dramatic

declaimer. He trusted mostly to extempore inspiration when acting his

Mimes, but wrote certain episodes where it was necessary to do so. His

works abounded with moral apophthegms, tersely expressed. We possess 857

verses, arranged in alphabetical order, ascribed to him, of which perhaps

half are genuine. This collection was made early in the Middle Ages, when

it was much used for purposes of education. We append a few examples of

these sayings: [11]

"Beneficium dando accipit, qui digno dedit."

"Furor fit laesa saepius patientia."

"Comes facundus in via pro vehiculo est."

"Nimium altercando veritas amittitur."

"Iniuriarum remedium est oblivio."

"Malum est consilium quod mutari non potest."

"Nunquam periclum sine periclo vincitar."

Horace mentions Laberius not uncomplimentarily, though he professes no

interest in the sort of composition he represented. [12] Perhaps he judged

him by his audience. Besides these two men, CN. MATIUS (about 44 B.C.)

also wrote _Mimiambi_ about the same date. They are described as _Mimicae

fabulae, versibus plerunque iambicis conscriptae_, [13] and appear to have

differed in some way from the actual mimes, probably in not being

represented on the stage. They reappear in the time of Pliny, whose friend

VERGINIUS ROMANUS (he tells us in one of his letters) [14] wrote Mimiambi

_tenuiter, argute, venuste, et in hoc genere eloquentissime_. This shows

that for a long tune a certain refinement and elaboration was compatible

with the style of Mime writing. [15]

The _Pantomimi_ have been confused with the _Mimi_; but they differed in

being dancers, not actors; they represent the inevitable development of

the mimic art, which, as Ovid says in his _Tristia_, [16] even in its

earlier manifestations, enlisted the eye as much as the ear. In Imperial

times they almost engrossed the stage. PYLADES and BATHYLLUS are monuments

of a depraved taste, which could raise these men to offices of state, and

seek their society with such zeal that the emperors were compelled to

issue stringent enactments to forbid it. TIGELLIUS seems to have been the

first of these _effeminati_; he is satirised by Horace, [17] but his

influence was inappreciable compared with that of his successors. The

pantomimus aspired to render the emotions of terror or love more

speakingly by gesture than it was possible to do by speech; and ancient

critics, while deploring, seem to have admitted this claim. The moral

effect of such exhibitions may be imagined. [18]

It is pleasing to find that in Cicero's time the interpretation of the

great dramatists' conceptions exercised the talents of several illustrious

actors, the two best-known of whom are AESOPUS, the tragedian (l22-54

B.C.), and ROSCIUS, the comic actor (120-61? B.C.), [19] After the

exhaustion of dramatic creativeness a period of splendid representation

naturally follows. It was so in Germany and England, it was so at Rome. Of

the two men, Roscius was the greater master; he was so perfect in his art

that his name became a synonym for excellence in any branch. [20] Neither

of them, however, embraced, as Garrick did, both departments of the art;

their provinces were and always remained distinct. Both had the privilege

of Cicero's friendship; both no doubt lent him the benefit of their

professional advice. The interchange of hints between an orator and an

actor was not unexampled. When Hortensius spoke, Roscius always attended

to study his suggestive gestures, and it is told of Cicero himself that he

and Roscius strove which could express the higher emotions more perfectly

by his art. Roscius was a native of Solonium, a Latin town, his praenomen

was Quintus; Aesopus appears to have been a freedman of the Claudia gens.

Of other actors few were well-known enough to merit notice. Some imagine

DOSSENNUS, mentioned by Horace, [21] to have been an actor; but he is much

more likely to be the Fabius Dossennus quoted as an author of _Atellanae_

by Pliny in his _Natural History_ [22] The freedom with which popular

actors were allowed to treat their original is shown by Aesopus on one

occasion (62 B.C.?) changing the words _Brutus qui patriam stabiliverat_

to _Tullius_, a change which, falling in with the people's humour at the

moment, was vociferously applauded, and gratified Cicero's vanity not a

little. [23] Aesopus died soon after (54 B.C.); Roscius did not live so

long. His marvellous beauty when a youth is the subject of a fine epigram

by Lutatius Catulus, already referred to. [24] Both amassed large

fortunes, and lived in princely style.

While the stage was given up to Mimes, cultured men wrote tragedies for

their improvement in command of language. Both Cicero and his brother

wrought assiduously at these frigid imitations. Caesar followed in their

steps; and no doubt the practice was conducive to copiousness and to an

effective simulation of passion. Their appearance as orators before the

people must have called out such different mental qualities from their

cold and calculating intercourse with one another, that tragedy writing as

well as declaiming may have been needful to keep themselves ready for an

emergency. Cicero, as is well known, tried hard to gain fame as a poet.

The ridicule which all ages have lavished on his unhappy efforts has been

a severe punishment for his want of self-knowledge. Still, judging from

the verses that remain, we cannot deny him the praise of a correct and

elegant _versateur_. Besides several translations from Homer and Euripides

scattered through his works, and a few quotations by hostile critics from

his epic attempts, [25] we possess a large part of his translation of

Aratus's _Phaenomena_, written, indeed, in his early days, but a graceful

specimen of Latin verse, and, as Munro [26] has shown, carefully studied

and often imitated by Lucretius. The most noticeable point of metre is his

disregard of the final s, no less than thrice in the first ninety lines, a

practice which in later life he stigmatised as _subrusticum_. In other

respects his hexameters are a decided advance on those of Ennius in point

of smoothness though not of strength. He still affects Greek caesuras

which are not suited to the Latin cadence, [27] and his rhythm generally

lacks variety.

Caesar's pen was nearly as prolific. He wrote besides an _Oedipus_ a poem

called _Laudes Herculis_, and a metrical account of a journey into Spain

called _Iter_. [28] Sportive effusions on various plants are attributed to

him by Pliny. [29] All these Augustus wisely refused to publish; but there

remain two excellent epigrams, one on Terence, already alluded to, which

is undoubtedly genuine, [30] the other probably so, though others ascribe

it to Germanicus or Domitian. [31] But the rhythm, purity of language, and

continuous structure of the couplets seem to point indisputably to an

earlier age. It is as follows--

"Thrax puer, astricto glacie dum ludit in Hebro,

Frigore concretas pondere rupit aquas.

Quumque imae partes rapido traherentur ab amne,

Abscidit, heu! tenerum lubrica testa caput.

Orba quod inventum mater dum conderet urna,

'Hoc peperi flammis, cetera,' dixit, 'aquis.'"

This is evidently a study from the Greek, probably from an Alexandrine

writer.

We have already had occasion more than once to mention the influence of

Alexandria on Roman literature. Since the fall of Carthage Rome had had

much intercourse with the capital of the Greek world. Her thought,

erudition, and style, had acted strongly upon the rude imitators of Greek

refinement. But hitherto the Romans had not been ripe for receiving their

influence in full. In Cicero's time, however, and in a great measure owing

to his labours, Latin composition of all kinds had advanced so far that

writers, and especially poets, began to feel capable of rivalling their

Alexandrian models. This type of Hellenism was so eminently suited to

Roman comprehension that, once introduced, it could not fail to produce

striking results. The results it actually produced were so vast, and in a

way so successful, that we must pause a moment to contemplate the rise of

the city which was connected with them.

Alexander did not err in selecting the mouth of the Nile for the capital

that should perpetuate his name. Its site, its associations, religious,

artistic, and scientific, and the tide of commerce that was certain to

flow through it, all suggested the coast of Egypt as the fittest point of

attraction for the industry of the Eastern world, while the rapid fall of

the other kingdoms that rose from the ruins of his Empire contributed to

make the new Merchant City the natural inheritor of his great ideas. The

Ptolemies well fulfilled the task which Alexander's foresight had set

before them. They aspired to make their capital the centre not only of

commercial but of intellectual production, and the repository of all that

was most venerable in religion, literature, and art. To achieve this end,

they acted with the magnificence as well as the unscrupulousness of great

monarchs. At their command, a princely city rose from the sandhills and

rushes of the Canopic mouth; stately temples uniting Greek proportion with

Egyptian grandeur, long quays with sheltered docks, ingenious contrivances

for purifying the Nile water and conducting a supply to every considerable

house; [32] in short, every product of a luxurious civilisation was found

there, except the refreshing shade of green trees, which, beyond a few of

the commoner kinds, could not be forced to grow on the shifting sandy

soil. The great glory of Alexandria, however, was its public library,

Founded by Soter (306-285 B.C.), greatly extended by Philadelphus (285-247

B.C.), under whom grammatical studies attained their highest development,

enriched by Euergetes (247-212 B.C.) with genuine MSS. of authors

fraudulently obtained from their owners to whom he sent back copies made

by his own librarians, [33] this collection reached under the last-named

sovereign the enormous total of 532,800 volumes, of which the great

majority were kept in the museum which formed part of the royal palace,

and about 50,000 of the most precious in the temple of Serapis, the patron

deity of the city. [34] Connected with the museum were various endowments

analogous to our professorships and fellowships of colleges; under the

Ptolemies the head librarian, in after times the professor of rhetoric,

held the highest post within this ancient university. The librarian was

usually chief priest of one of the greatest gods, Isis, Osiris, or

Serapis. [35] His appointment was for life, and lay at the disposal of the

monarch. Thus the museum was essentially a court institution, and its

_savants_ and _littérateurs_ were accomplished courtiers and men of the

world. Learning being thus nursed as in a hot-bed, its products were rank,

but neither hardy nor natural. They took the form of recondite

mythological erudition, grammar and exegesis, and laborious imitation of

the ancients. In science only was there a healthy spirit of research.

Mathematics were splendidly represented by Euclid and Archimedes,

Geography by Eratosthenes, Astronomy by Hipparchus; for these men, though

not all residents in Alexandria, all gained their principles and method

from study within her walls. To Aristarchus (fl. 180 B.C.) and his

contemporaries we owe the final revision of the Greek classic texts; and

the service thus done to scholarship and literature was incalculable. But

the earlier Alexandrines seem to have been overwhelmed by the vastness of

material at their command. Except in pastoral poetry, which in reality was

not Alexandrine, [36] there was no creative talent shown for centuries.

The true importance of Alexandria in the history of thought dates from

Plotinus (about 200 A.D.), who first clearly taught that mystic philosophy

which under the name of _Neoplatonism_, has had so enduring a fascination

for the human spirit. It was not, however, for philosophy, science, or

theology that the Romans went to Alexandria. It was for literary models

which should less hopelessly defy imitation than those of old Greece, and

for general views of life which should approve themselves to their growing

enlightenment. These they found in the half-Greek, half-cosmopolitan

culture which had there taken root and spread widely in the East. Even

before Alexander's death there had been signs of the internal break-up of

Hellenism, now that it had attained its perfect development. Out of Athens

pure Hellenism had at no time been able to express itself successfully in

literature. And even in Athens the burden of Atticism, if we may say so,

seems to have become too great to bear. We see a desire to emancipate both

thought and expression from the exquisite but confining proportions within

which they had as yet moved. The student of Euripides observes a struggle,

ineffectual it is true, but pregnant with meaning, against all that is

most specially recognised as conservative and national. [37] He strives to

pour new wine into old bottles; but in this case the bottles are too

strong for him to burst. The Atticism which had guided and comprehended,

now began to cramp development. To make a world-wide out of a Hellenic

form of thought, it is necessary to go outside the charmed soil of Greece.

Only on the banks of the Nile will the new culture find a shrine, whose

remote and mysterious authority frees it from the spell of Hellenism, now

no longer the exponent of the world's thought, while it is near enough to

the arena where human progress is fighting its way onward, to inspire and

be inspired by the mighty nation that is succeeding Greece as the

representative of mankind.

The contribution of Alexandria to human progress consists, then, in its

recoil from Greek exclusiveness, in its sifting of what was universal in

Greek thought from what was national, and presenting the former in a

systematised form for the enlightenment of those who received it. This is

its nobler side; the side which men like Ennius and Scipio seized, and

welded into a harmonious union with the higher national tradition of Rome,

out of which union arose that complex product to which the name

_humanitas_ was so happily given. But Alexandrian culture was more than

cosmopolitan. It was in a sense anti-national. Egyptian superstition,

theurgy, magic, and charlatanism of every sort, tried to amalgamate with

the imported Greek culture. In Greece itself they had never done this. The

clear light of Greek intellect had no fellowship with the obscure or the

mysterious. It drove them into corners and let them mutter in secret. But

the moment the lamp of culture was given into other hands, they started up

again unabashed and undismayed. The Alexandrine thinkers struggled to make

Greek influences supreme, to exclude altogether those of the East; and

their efforts were for three centuries successful: neither mysticism nor

magic reigned in the museum of the Ptolemies. But this victory was

purchased at a severe cost. The enthusiasm of the Alexandrian scholars had

made them pedants. They gradually ceased to care for the thought of

literature, and busied themselves only with questions of learning and of

form. Their multifarious reading made them think that they too had a

literary gift. Philetas was not only a profound logician, but he affected

to be an amatory poet. [38] Callimachus, the brilliant and courtly

librarian of Philadelphus, wrote nearly every kind of poetry that existed.

Aratus treated the abstruse investigations of Eudoxus in neat verses that

at once became popular. While in the great periods of Greek art each

writer had been content to excel in a single branch, it now became the

fashion for the same poet to be Epicist, Lyrist, and Elegy-writer at once.

Besides the new treatment of old forms, there were three kinds of poetry,

first developed or perfected at Alexandria, which have special interest

for us from the great celebrity they gained when imported into Rome. They

are the didactic poem, the erotic elegy, and the epigram. The maxim of

Callimachus (characteristic as it is of his narrow mind) _mega biblion

mega kakon_, "a great book is a great evil," [39] was the rule on which

these poetasters generally acted. The didactic poem is an illegitimate

cross between science and poetry. In the creative days of Greece it had no

place. Hesiod, Parmenides, and Empedocles were, indeed, cited as examples.

But in their days poetry was the only vehicle of literary effort, and he

who wished to issue accurate information was driven to embody it in verse.

In the time of the Ptolemies things were altogether different. It was

consistent neither with the exactness of science nor with the grace of the

Muses to treat astronomy or geography as subjects for poetry. Still, the

best masters of this style undoubtedly attained great renown, and have

found brilliant imitators, not only in Roman, but in modern times.

ARATUS (280 B.C.), known as the model of Cicero's, and in a later age of

Domitian's [40] youthful essays in verse, was born at Soli in Cilicia

about three hundred years before Christ. He was not a scientific man, [41]

but popularised in hexameter verse the astronomical works of Eudoxus, of

which he formed two poems, the _Phaenomena_ and the _Diosemia_, or

Prognostics. These were extravagantly praised, and so far took the place

of their original that commentaries were written on them by learned men,

[42] while the works of Eudoxus were in danger of being forgotten.

NICANDER (230 B.C.?), still less ambitious, wrote a poem on remedies for

vegetable and mineral poisons (_alexipharmaka_), and for the bites of

beasts (_thaeriaka_), and another on the habits of birds (_ornithogonia_).

These attracted the imitation of Macer in the Augustan age. But the most

celebrated poets were CALLIMACHUS (260 B.C.) and PHILETAS [43] (280 B.C.),

who formed the models of Propertius. To them we owe the Erotic Elegy,

whether personal or mythological, and all the pedantic ornament of

fictitious passion which such writings generally display. More will be

said about them when we come to the elegiac poets. Callimachus, however,

seems to have carried his art, such as it was, to perfection. He is

generally considered the prince of elegists, and his extant fragments show

great nicety and finish of expression. The sacrilegious theft of the locks

of Berenice's hair from the temple where she had offered them, was a

subject too well suited to a courtier's muse to escape treatment. Its

celebrity is due to the translation made by Catullus, and the

appropriation of the idea by Pope in his _Rape of the Lock_. The short

epigram was also much in vogue at Alexandria, and neat examples abound in

the _Anthology_. But in all these departments the Romans imitated with

such zest and vigour that they left their masters far behind. Ovid and

Martial are as superior in their way to Philetas and Callimachus as

Lucretius and Virgil to Aratus and Apollonius Rhodius. This last-mentioned

poet, APOLLONIUS RHODIUS (fl. 240 B.C.), demands a short notice. He was

the pupil of Callimachus, and the most genuinely-gifted of all the

Alexandrine school; he incurred the envy and afterwards the rancorous

hatred of his preceptor, through whose influence he was obliged to leave

Alexandria and seek fame at Rhodes. Here he remained all his life and

wrote his most celebrated poem, the _Epic of the Argonauts_, a combination

of sentiment, learning, and graceful expression, which is less known than

it ought to be. Its chief interest to us is the use made of it by Virgil,

who studied it deeply and drew much from it. We observe the passion of

love as a new element in heroic poetry, scarcely treated in Greece, but

henceforth to become second to none in prominence, and through Dido, to

secure a place among the very highest flights of song. [44] Jason and

Medea, the hero and heroine, who love one another, create a poetical era.

An epicist of even greater popularity was EUPHORION of Chalcis (274-203

B.C.), whose affected prettiness and rounded cadences charmed the ears of

the young nobles. He had admirers who knew him by heart, who declaimed him

at the baths, [45] and quoted his pathetic passages _ad nauseam_. He was

the inventor of the historical romance in verse, of which Rome was so

fruitful. A Lucan, a Silius, owe their inspiration in part to him. Lastly,

we may mention that the drama could find no place at Alexandria. Only

learned compilations of recondite legend and frigid declamation, almost

unintelligible from the rare and obsolete words with which they were

crowded, were sent forth under the name of plays. The _Cassandra_ or

_Alexandra_ of Lycophron is the only specimen that has come to us. Its

thorny difficulties deter the reader, but Fox speaks of it as breathing a

rich vein of melancholy. The _Thyestes_ of Varius and the _Medea_ of Ovid

were no doubt greatly improved copies of dramas of this sort.

It will be seen from this survey of Alexandrine letters that the better

side of their influence was soon exhausted. Any breadth of view they

possessed was seized and far exceeded by the nobler minds that imitated

it; and all their other qualities were such as to enervate rather than

inspire. The masculine rudeness of the old poets now gave way to pretty

finish; verbal conceits took the place of condensed thoughts; the rich

exuberance of the native style tried to cramp itself into the arid

allusiveness which, instead of painting straight from nature, was content

to awaken a long line of literary associations. Nevertheless there was

much in their manipulation of language from which the Romans could learn a

useful lesson. It was impossible for them to catch the original impulse of

the divine seer [46]--

_autodidaktos d'eimi, theos de moi en phresin oimas pantoias enephysen._

From poverty of genius they were forced to draw less flowing draughts from

the Castalian spring. The bards of old Greece were hopelessly above them.

The Alexandrines, by not overpowering their efforts, but offering them

models which they felt they could not only equal but immeasurably excel,

did real service in encouraging and stimulating the Roman muse. Great

critics like Niebuhr and, within certain limits, Munro, regret the

mingling of the Alexandrine channel with the stream of Latin poetry, but

without it we should perhaps not have had Catullus and certainly neither

Ovid nor Virgil.

It may easily be supposed that the national party, whether in politics or

letters, would set themselves with all their might to oppose the rising

current. The great majority surrendered themselves to it with a good will.

Among the stern reactionists in prose, we have mentioned Varro; in poetry,

by far the greatest name is LUCRETIUS. But little is known of Lucretius's

life; even the date of his birth is uncertain. St. Jerome, in the Eusebian

chronicle, [47] gives 95 B.C. Others have with more probability assigned

an earlier date. It is from Jerome that we learn those facts which have

cast a strong interest round the poet, viz. that he was driven mad by a

love potion, that he composed in the intervals of insanity his poem, which

Cicero afterwards corrected, and that he perished by his own hand in the

forty-fourth year of his age. Jerome does not quote any contemporary

authority; his statements, coming 500 years after the event, must go for

what they are worth, but may perhaps meet with a qualified acceptance. The

intense earnestness of the poem indicates a mind that we can well conceive

giving way under the overwhelming thought which stirred it; and the

example of a philosopher anticipating the stroke of nature is too often

repeated in Roman history to make it incredible in this case. Tennyson

with a poet's sympathy has surrounded this story with the deepest pathos,

and it will probably remain the accepted, if not the established, version

of his death.

Though born in a high position, he seems to have stood aloof from society.

From first to last his book betrays the close and eager student. He was an

intimate friend of the worthless C. Memmius, whom he extols in a manner

creditable to his heart but not to his judgment. [48] But he was no

flatterer, nor was Memmius a patron. Poet and statesman lived on terms of

perfect equality. Of the date of his work we can so far conjecture that it

was certainly unfinished at his death (55 B.C.), and from its scope and

information must have extended over some years. The allusion [49]--

"Nam neque nos agere hoc patriai tempore iniquo

Possumus aequo animo, nec Memmi clara propago

Talibus in rebus communi desse saluti,"

is considered by Prof. Sellar to point to the praetorship of Memmius (58

B.C.). The work was long thought to have been edited by Cicero after the

poet's death; but though he had read the poem, [50] and admitted its

talent, he would doubtless have mentioned, at least to Atticus, the fact

of the editing, had it occurred. Some critics, arguing from Cicero's

silence and known opposition to the Epicurean tenets, have thought that

Jerome referred to Q. Cicero the orator's brother, but for this there is

no authority. The poem is entitled _De Rerum Natura_, an equivalent for

the Greek _peri physeos_, the usual title of the pre-Socratic

philosophers' works. The form, viz. a poem in heroic hexameters,

containing a carefully reasoned exposition, in which regard was had above

all to the claims of the subject-matter, was borrowed from the Sicilian

thinker Empedocles [51] (460 B.C.). But while Aristotle denies Empedocles

the title of _poet_ [52] on account of his scientific subject, no one

could think of applying the same criticism to Lucretius A general view of

nature, as the Power most near to man, and most capable of deeply moving

his heart, a Power whose beauty, variety, and mystery, were the source of

his most perplexing struggles as well as of his purest joys; a desire to

hold communion with her, and to learn from her lips, opened only to the

ear of faith, those secrets which are hid from the vain world; this was

the grand thought that stirred the depths of Lucretius's mind, and made

him the herald of a new and enduring form of verse. It has been well said

that didactic poetry was that in which the Roman was best fitted to

succeed. It was in harmony with his utilitarian character. [53] To give a

practically useful direction to its labour was almost demanded from the

highest poetry. To say nothing of Horace and Lucilius, Virgil's Aeneid, no

less than his Georgics, has a practical aim, and to an ardent spirit like

Lucretius, poetry would be the natural vehicle for the truths to which he

longed to convert mankind.

In the selection of his models, his choice fell upon the older Greek

writers, such as Empedocles, Aeschylus, Thucydides, men renowned for deep

thought rather than elegant expression; and among the Romans, upon Ennius

and Pacuvius, the giants of a ruder past. Among contemporaries, Cicero

alone seems to have awakened his admiration. Thus he stands altogether

aloof from the fashionable standard of his day, a solitary beacon pointing

to landmarks once well known, but now crumbling into decay. [54]

Lucretius is the only Roman in whom the love of speculative truth [55]

prevails over every other feeling. In his day philosophy had sunk to an

endless series of disputes about words [56] Frivolous quibbles and

captious logical proofs, comprised the highest exercises of the

speculative faculty. [57] The mind of Lucretius harks back to the glorious

period of creative enthusiasm, when Democritus, Empedocles, Anaxagoras,

Plato, Aristotle, Zeno, and Epicurus, successively believed that they had

solved the great questions of being and knowing. Amid the zeal and

confidence of that mighty time his soul is at home. To Epicurus as the

inventor of the true guide of life he pays a tribute of reverential

praise, calling him the pride of Greece, [58] and exalting him to the

position of a god. [59] It is clear to one who studies this deeply

interesting poet that his mind was in the highest degree reverential. No

error could have been more fatal to his enjoyment of that equanimity,

whose absence he deplores, than to select a creed, at once so joyless and

barren in itself, and so unsuited to his ardent temperament.

When Lucretius wrote, belief in the national religion had among the upper

classes become almost extinct. Those who needed conviction as a support

for their life had no resource but Greek philosophy. The speculations of

Plato, except in his more popular works, were not attractive to the

Romans; those of Aristotle, brought to light in Cicero's time by the

transference of Apellicon's library to Rome, [60] were a sealed book to

the majority, though certain works, probably dialogues after the Platonic

manner, gained the admiration of Cicero and Quintilian. The pre-Socratic

thinkers, occupied as they were with physical questions which had little

interest for Romans, were still less likely to be resorted to. The demand

for a supreme moral end made it inevitable that their choice should fall

on one of the two schools which offered such an end, those of the Porch

and the Garden. Which of the two would a man like Lucretius prefer? The

answer is not so obvious as it appears. For Lucretius has in him nothing

of the _Epicurean_ in our sense. His austerity is nearer to that of the

Stoic. It was the speculative basis underlying the ethical system, and not

the ethical system itself, that determined his choice. Epicurus had allied

his theory of pleasure [61] with the atomic theory of Democritus. Stoicism

had espoused the doctrine of Heraclitus, that fire is the primordial

element. Epicurus had denied the indestructibility of the soul and the

divine government of the world; his gods were unconnected with mankind,

and lived at ease in the vacant spaces between the worlds. Stoicism on the

contrary, had incorporated the popular theology, bringing it into

conformity with the philosophic doctrine of a single Deity by means of

allegorical interpretation. Its views of Divine Providence were

reconcilable with, while they elevated, the popular superstition.

Lucretius had a strong hatred for the abuses into which state-craft and

luxury had allowed the popular creed to fall; he was also firmly convinced

of the sufficiency of Democritus's two postulates (_Atoms_ and _the Void_)

to account for all the phenomena of the universe. Hence he gave his

unreserved assent to the Epicurean system, which he expounds, mainly in

its physical outlines, in his work; the ethical tenets being interwoven

with the bursts of enthusiastic poetry which break, or the countless

touches which adorn, the sustained course of his argument.

The defects of the ancient scientific method are not wanting in him.

Generalising from a few superficial instances, reasoning _a priori_,

instead of winning his way by observation and comparison up to the

Universal truth, fancying that it was possible for a single mind to grasp,

and for a system by a few bold hypotheses to explain, the problem of

external nature, of the soul, of the existence of the gods: such are the

obvious defects which Lucretius shares with his masters, and of which the

experience of ages has taught us the danger as well as the charm. But the

atomic system has features which render it specially interesting at the

present day. Its materialism, its attribution to nature of power

sufficient to carry out all her ends, its analysis of matter into ultimate

physical _individua_ incognisable by sense, while yet it insists that the

senses are the fountains of all knowledge, [62] are points which bring it

into correspondence with hypotheses at present predominant. Its theory of

the development of society from the lower to the higher without break and

without divine intervention, and of the survival of the fittest in the

struggle for existence, its denial of design and claim to explain

everything by natural law, are also points of resemblance. Finally, the

lesson he draws from this comfortless creed, not to sit with folded hands

in silent despair, nor to "eat and drink for to-morrow we die," but to

labour steadily for our greater good and to cultivate virtue in accordance

with reason, equally free from ambition and sloth, is strikingly like the

teaching of that scientific school [63] which claims for its system a

motive as potent to inspire self-denial as any that a more spiritual

philosophy can give.

Lucretius, therefore, gains moral elevation by deserting the conclusion of

Epicurus. While he does full justice to the poetical side of pleasure as

an end in itself, [64] he never insists on it as a motive to action. Thus

he retains the conception as a noble ornament of his verse, but reserves

to himself, as every poet must, the liberty to adopt another tone if he

feels it higher or more appropriate. Indeed, logical consistency of view

would be out of place in a poem; and Lucretius is nowhere a truer poet

that when he sins against his own canons. [65] His instinct told him how

difficult it was to combine clear reasoning with a poetical garb,

especially as the Latin language was not yet broken to the purposes of

philosophy. [66] Nevertheless so complete is his mastery of the subject

that there is scarcely a difficulty arising from want of clearness of

expression from beginning to end of the poem. There are occasional

_lacunae_, and several passages out of place, which were either stop-gaps

intended to be replaced by lines more appropriate, or additions made after

the first draft of the work, which, had the author lived, would have been

wrought into the context. The first three books are quite or nearly quite

finished, and from them we can judge his power of presenting an argument.

His chief object he states to be not the discovery, but the exposition of

truth, for the purpose of freeing men's minds from religious terrors. This

he announces immediately after the invocation to Venus, "Mother of the

Aeneadae," with which the poem opens. He then addresses himself to

Memmius, whom he intreats not to be deterred from reading him by the

reproach of "rationalism." [67] He next states his first principle, which

is the denial of creation:

"Nullam rem e nilo gigni divinitus unquam,"

and asks, What then is the original substance out of which existing things

have arisen? The answer is, "Atoms and the Void, and beside them nothing

else:" these two principles are solid, self-existent, indestructible, and

invisible. He next investigates and refutes the first principles of other

philosophers, notably Heraclitus, Empedocles, and Anaxagoras; and the book

ends with a short proof that the atoms are infinite in number and space

infinite in extent. The Second Book opens with a digression on the folly

of ambition; but, returning to the atoms, treats of the combination which

enables them to form and perpetuate the present variety of things. All

change is ultimately due to the primordial motion of the atoms. This

motion, naturally in a straight line, is occasionally deflected; and this

deflection accounts for the many variations from exact law. Moreover,

atoms differ in form, some being rough, others smooth, some round, others

square, &c. They are combined in infinite ways, which combinations give

rise to the so-called secondary properties of matter, colour, heat, smell,

&c. Innumerable other worlds besides our own exist; this one will probably

soon pass away; atoms and the void alone are eternal. In the Third Book

the poet attacks what he considers the stronghold of superstition. The

soul, mind, or vital principle is carefully discussed, and declared to be

material, being composed, indeed, of the finest atoms, as is shown by its

rapid movement, and the fact that it does not add to the weight of the

body, but in no wise _sui generis_, or differing in kind from other

matter. It is united with the body as the perfume with the incense, nor

can they be severed without destruction to both. They are born together,

grow together, and perish together. Death therefore is the end of being,

and life beyond the grave is not only impossible but inconceivable. Book

IV. treats of the images or idols cast off from the surface of bodies,

borne continually through space, and sometimes seen by sleepers in dreams,

or by sick people or others in waking visions. They are not illusions of

the senses; the illusion arises from the wrong interpretation we put upon

them. To these images the passion of love is traced; and with a brilliant

satire on the effects of yielding to it the book closes. The Fifth Book

examines the origin and formation of the solar system, which it treats not

as eternal after the manner of the Stoics, but as having had a definite

beginning, and as being destined to a natural and inevitable decay. He

applies his principle of "Fortuitous Concurrence" to this part of his

subject with signal power, but the faultiness of his method interferes

with the effect of his argument. The finest part of the book, and perhaps

of the whole poem, is his account of the "origin of species," and the

progress of human society. His views read like a hazy forecast of the

evolution doctrine. He applies his principle with great strictness; no

break occurs; experience alone has been the guide of life. If we ask,

however, whether he had any idea of _progress_ as we understand it, we

must answer no. He did not believe in the perfectibility of man, or in the

ultimate prevalence of virtue in the world. The last Book tries to show

the natural origin of the rarer and more gigantic physical phenomena,

thunderstorms, volcanoes, earthquakes, pestilence, &c. and terminates with

a long description of the plague of Athens, in which we trace many

imitations of Thucydides. This book is obviously unfinished; but the aim

of the work may be said to be so far complete that nowhere is the central

object lost sight of, viz., to expel the belief in divine interventions,

and to save mankind from all fear of the supernatural.

The value of the poem to us consists not in its contributions to science

but in its intensity of poetic feeling. None but a student will read

through the disquisitions on atoms and void. All who love poetry will feel

the charm of the digressions and introductions. These, which are

sufficiently numerous, are either resting-places in the process of proof,

when the writer pauses to reflect, or bursts of eloquent appeal which his

earnestness cannot repress. Of the first kind are the account of spring in

Book I. and the enumeration of female attractions in Book IV.; of the

second, are the sacrifice of Iphigenia, [68] the tribute to Empedocles and

Epicurus, [69] the description of himself as a solitary wanderer among

trackless haunts of the Muses, [70] the attack on ambition and luxury,

[71] the pathetic description of the cow bereft of her calf, [72] the

indignant remonstrance with the man who fears to die. [73] In these, as in

innumerable single touches, the poet of original genius is revealed.

Virgil often works by allusion: Lucretius never does. All his effects are

gained by the direct presentation of a distinct image. He has in a high

degree the "seeing eye," which needs only a steady hand to body forth its

visions. Take the picture of Mars in love, yielding to Venus's prayer for

peace. [74] What can be more truly statuesque?

"Belli fera moenera Mavors

Armipotens regit, in gremium qui saepe tuum se

Reiicit aeterno devictus volnere amoris:

Atque ita suspiciens tereti cervice reposta

Pascit amore avidos inhians in te, dea, visus,

Eque tuo pendet resupini spiritus ore.

Hunc tu diva tuo recubantem corpore sancto

Circumfusa super suavis ex ore loquellas

Funde petens placidam Romanis, incluta, pacem."

Or, again, of nature's freedom:

"Libera continuo dominis privata superbis."

Who can fail in this to catch the tones of the Republic? Again, take his

description of the transmission of existence,

"Et quasi cursores vitai; lampada tradunt;"

or of the helplessness of medicine in time of plague,

"Mussabat tacito medicina timore."

These are a few examples of a power present throughout, filling his

reasonings with a vivid reality far removed from the conventional rhetoric

of most philosopher poets. [75] His language is Thucydidean in its

chiselled outline, its quarried strength, its living expressiveness. Nor

is his moral earnestness inferior. The end of life is indeed nominally

pleasure, [76] "_dux vitae dia voluptas_;" but really it is a pure heart,

"_At bene non poterat sine puro pectore vivi_." [77] He who first showed

the way to this was the true deity. [78] The contemplation of eternal law

will produce, not as the strict Epicureans say, _indifference_, [79] but

resignation. [80] This happiness is in our own power, and neither gods nor

men can take it away. The ties of family life are depicted with

enthusiasm, and though the active duties of a citizen are not recommended,

they are certainly not discouraged. But the knowledge of nature alone can

satisfy man's spirit, or enable him to lead a life worthy of the

immortals, and see with his mind's eye their mansions of eternal rest.

[81] Nothing can be further from the light treatment of deep problems

current among Epicureans than the solemn earnestness of Lucretius. He

cannot leave the world to its vanity and enjoy himself. He seeks to bring

men to his views, but at the same time he sees how hopeless is the task.

He becomes a pessimist: in Roman language, _he despairs of the Republic_.

He is a lonely spirit, religious even in his anti-religionism, full of

reverence, but ignorant what to worship; a splendid poet, feeding his

spirit on the husks of mechanical causation.

With regard to his language, there can be but one opinion. It is at times

harsh, at times redundant, at times prosaic; but at a time when "Greek,

and often debased Greek, had made fatal inroads into the national idiom,"

his Latin has the purity of that of Cicero or Terence. Like Lucilius, he

introduces single Greek words, [82] a practice which Horace wisely

rejects, [83] but which is revived in the poetry of the Empire. [84] His

poetical ornaments are those of the older writers. Archaism, [85]

alliteration, [86] and assonance abound in his pages. These would not have

been regarded as defects by critics like Cicero or Varro; they are

instances of his determination to give way in nothing to the fashion of

the day.

His style [87] is fresh, strong, and impetuous, but frequently and

intentionally rugged. Repetitions occasionally wearisome, and prosaic

constructions, occur. Poetry is sacrificed to logic in the innumerable

particles of transition, [88] and in the painful precision which at times

leaves nothing to the imagination of the reader. But his vocabulary is not

prosaic; it is poetical to a degree exceeding that of all other Latin

writers. It is to be regretted that he did not oftener allow himself to be

carried away by the stroke of the thyrsus, which impelled him to strive

for the meed of praise. [89]

He is not often mentioned in later literature. Quintilian characterises

him as elegant but difficult; [90] Ovid and Statius warmly praise him;

[91] Horace alludes to him as his own teacher in philosophy; [92] Virgil,

though he never mentions his name, refers to him in a celebrated passage,

and shows in all his works traces of a profound study of, and admiration

for, his poetry. [93] Ovid draws largely from him in the _Metamorphoses_,

and Manilius had evidently adopted him as a model. The writer of _Etna_

echoes his language and sentiments, and Tacitus, in a later generation,

speaks of critics who even preferred him to Virgil. The irreligious

tendency of his work seems to have brought his name under a cloud; and

those who copied him may have thought it wiser not to acknowledge their

debt. The later Empire and the Middle Ages remained indifferent to a poem

which sought to disturb belief; it was when the scepticism of the

eighteenth century broke forth that Lucretius's power was first fully

felt. Since the time of Boyle he has commanded from some minds an almost

enthusiastic admiration. His spirit lives in Shelley, though he has not

yet found a poet of kindred genius to translate him. But his great name

and the force with which he strikes chords to which every soul at times

vibrates must, now that he is once known, secure for him a high place

among the masters of thoughtful song.

Transpadane Gaul was at this time fertile in poets. Besides two of the

first order it produced several of the second rank Among these M. FURIUS

BIBACULUS (103-29? B.C.) must be noticed. His exact date is uncertain, but

he is known to have lampooned both Julius and Augustus Caesar, [94] and

perhaps lived to find himself the sole representative of the earlier race

of poets. [95] He is one of the few men of the period who attained to old

age. Some have supposed that the line of Horace [96]--

"Turgidus Alpinus jugulat dum Memnona,"

refers to him, the nickname of Alpinus having been given him on account of

his ludicrous description of Jove "spitting snow upon the Alps." Others

have assigned the eight spurious lines on Lucilius in the tenth satire of

Horace to him. Macrobius preserves several verses from his _Bellum

Gallicum_, which Virgil has not disdained to imitate, _e.g._

"Interea Oceani linquens Aurora cubile."

"Rumoresque serunt varios et multa requirunt."

"Confimat dictis simul atque exsuscitat acres

Ad bellandum animos reficitque ad praelia mentes." [97]

Many of the critics of this period also wrote poems. Among these was

VALERIUS CATO, sometimes called CATO GRAMMATICUS, whose love elegies were

known to Ovid. He also amused himself with short mythological pieces, none

of which have come down to us. Two short poems called _Dirae_ and _Lydia_,

which used to be printed among Virgil's _Catalecta_, bear his name, but

are now generally regarded as spurious. They contain the bitter complaints

of one who was turned out of his estate by an intruding soldier, and his

resolution to find solace for all ills in the love of his faithful

mistress.

The absorbing interest of the war between Caesar and Pompey compelled all

classes to share its troubles; even the poets did not escape. They were

now very numerous. Already the vain desire to write had become universal

among the _jeunesse_ of the capital. The seductive methods by which

Alexandrinism had made it equally easy to enshrine in verse his morning

reading or his evening's amour, proved too great an attraction for the

young Roman votary of the muses. Rome already teemed with the class so

pitilessly satirized by Horace and Juvenal, the

"Saecli incommoda, pessimi poetae."

The first name of any celebrity is that of VARRO ATACINUS, a native of

Gallia Narbonensis. He was a varied and prolific writer, who cultivated

with some success at least three domains of poetry. In his younger days he

wrote satires, but without any aptitude for the work. [98] These he

deserted for the epos, in which he gained some credit by his poem on the

Sequanian War. This was a national epic after the manner of Ennius, but

from the silence of later poets we may conjecture that it did not retain

its popularity. At the age of thirty-five he began to study with diligence

the Alexandrine models, and gained much credit by his translation of the

_Argonautica_ of Apollonius. Ovid often mentions this poem with

admiration; he calls Varro the poet of the sail-tossing sea, says no age

will be ignorant of his fame, and even thinks the ocean gods may have

helped him to compose his song. [99] Quintilian with better judgment [100]

notes his deficiency both in originality and copiousness, but allows him

the merit of a careful translator. We gather from a passage of Ovid [101]

that he wrote love poems, and from other sources that he translated Greek

works on topography and meteorology, both strictly copied from the

Alexandrines.

Besides Varro, we hear of TICIDAS, of MEMMIUS the friend of Lucretius, of

C. HELVIUS CINNA, and C. LICINIUS CALVUS, as writers of erotic poetry. The

last two were also eminent in other branches. Cinna (50 B.C.), who is

mentioned by Virgil as a poet superior to himself, [102] gained renown by

his _Smyrna_, an epic based on the unnatural love of Myrrha for her father

Cinyras, [103] on which revolting subject he bestowed nine years [104] of

elaboration, tricking it out with every arid device that pedantry's long

list could supply. Its learning, however, prevented it from being

neglected. Until the _Aeneid_ appeared, it was considered the fullest

repository of choice mythological lore. It was perhaps the nearest

approach ever made in Rome to an original Alexandrine poem. Calvus (82-47

B.C.), who is generally coupled with Catullus, was a distinguished orator

as well as poet. Cicero pays him the compliment of honourable mention in

the _Brutus_, [105] praising his parts and lamenting his early death. He

thinks his success would have been greater had he forgotten himself more.

This egotism was probably not wanting to his poetry, but much may be

excused him on account of his youth. It is difficult to form an opinion of

his style; the epithets, _gravis, vehemens, exilis_ (which apply rather to

his oratory than to his poetry), seem contradictory; the last strikes us

as the most discriminating. Besides short elegies like those of Catullus,

he wrote an epic called _Io_, as well as lampoons against Pompey and other

leading men. We possess none of his fragments.

From Calvus we pass to CATULLUS. This great poet was born at Verona (87

B.C.), and died, according to Jerome, in his thirty-first year; but this

is generally held to be an error, and Prof. Ellis fixes his death in 54

B.C. In either case he was a young man when he died, and this is an

important consideration in criticising his poems. He came as a youth to

Rome, where he mixed freely in the best society, and where he continued to

reside, except when his health or fortunes made a change desirable. [106]

At such times he resorted either to Sirmio, a picturesque spot on the Lago

di Garda, [107] where he had a villa, or else to his Tiburtine estate,

which, he tells us, he mortgaged to meet certain pecuniary embarrassments.

[108] Among his friends were Nepos, who first acknowledged his genius,

[109] to whom the grateful poet dedicated his book; Cicero, whose

eloquence he warmly admired; [110] Pollio, Cornificius, Cinna, and Calvus,

besides many others less known to fame. Like all warm natures, he was a

good hater. Caesar and his friend Mamurra felt his satire; [111] and

though he was afterwards reconciled to Caesar, the reconciliation did not

go beyond a cold indifference. [112] To Mamurra he was implacably hostile,

but satirised him under the fictitious name of Mentula to avoid offending

Caesar. His life was that of a thorough man of pleasure, who was also a

man of letters. Indifferent to politics, he formed friendships and

enmities for personal reasons alone. Two events in his life are important

for us, since they affected his genius--his love for Lesbia, and his

brother's death. The former was the master-passion of his life. It began

in the fresh devotion of a first love; it survived the cruel shocks of

infidelity and indifference; and, though no longer as before united with

respect, it endured unextinguished to the end, burning with the passion of

despair.

Who Lesbia was, has been the subject of much discussion. There can be

little doubt that Apuleius's information is correct, and that her real

name was Clodia. If so, it is most natural to suppose her the same with

that abandoned woman, the sister of P. Clodius Pulcher, whom Cicero brands

with infamy in his speech for Caelius. Unwillingness to associate the

graceful verse of Catullus with a theme so unworthy has perhaps led the

critics to question without reason the identity. But the portrait drawn by

the poet when at length his eyes were opened, answers but too truly to

that of the orator. Few things in all literature are sadder than the

spectacle of this trusting and generous spirit withered by the unkindness,

as it had been soiled by the favours, of this evil beauty. [113] The life

which began in rapturous devotion ends in hopeless gloom. The poet whose

every nerve was strung to the delights of an unselfish though guilty

passion, now that the spell is broken, finds life a burden, and confronts

with relief the thought of death which, as he anticipated, soon came to

end his sorrows.

The affection of Catullus for his only brother, lost to him by an early

death, forms the counterpoise to his love for Lesbia. Where this brings

remorse, the other brings a soothing melancholy; the memory of this sacred

sorrow struggles to cast out the harassing regrets that torment his soul.

[114] Nothing can surpass the simple pathos with which he alludes to this

event. It is the subject of one short elegy, [115] and enters largely into

another. When travelling with the pro-praetor Memmius into Bithynia, he

visited his brother's tomb at Rhoeteum in the Troad. It was on his return

from this journey, undertaken, but without success, in the hope of

bettering his fortune, that he wrote the little poem to Sirmio, [116]

which dwells on the associations of home with a sweetness perhaps

unequalled in ancient poetry. [117]

In this, and indeed in all his shorter pieces, his character is

unmistakably revealed. No writer, ancient or modern, is more frank than

he. He neither hides his own faults, nor desires his friends to hide

theirs from him; [118] his verses are the honest spontaneous expression of

his every-day life. In them we see a youth, ardent, unaffected, impulsive,

generous, courteous, and outspoken, but indifferent to the serious

interests of life; recklessly self-indulgent, plunging into the grossest

sensuality, and that with so little sense of guilt as to appeal to Heaven

as witness of the purity of his life: [119] we see a poet, full of

delicate fooling and of love for the beautiful, with a strong lyrical

impulse fresh as that of Greece, and an appreciation of Greek feeling that

makes him revive the very inspiration of Greek genius; [120] with a chaste

simplicity of style that faithfully reflects every mood, and with an

amount of learning which, if inconsiderable as compared with that of the

Augustan poets, much exceeded that of his chief predecessors, and secured

for him the honourable epithet of the learned (_doctus_). [121]

The poems of Catullus fall naturally into three divisions, doubtless made

by the poet himself. These are the short lyrical pieces in various metres,

containing the best known of those to Lesbia, besides others to his most

intimate friends; then come the longer poems, mostly in heroic or elegiac

metre, representing the higher flights of his genius; and lastly, the

epigrams on divers subjects, all in the elegiac metre, of which both the

list and the text are imperfect. In all we meet with the same careless

grace and simplicity both of thought and diction, but all do not show the

same artistic skill. The judgment that led Catullus to place his lyric

poems in the foreground was right. They are the best known, the best

finished, and the most popular of all his compositions; the four to

Lesbia, the one to Sirmio, and that on Acme and Septimus, are perhaps the

most perfect lyrics in the Latin language; and others are scarcely

inferior to them in elegance. The hendecasyllabic rhythm, in which the

greater part are written, is the one best suited to display the poet's

special gifts. Of this metre he is the first and only master. Horace does

not employ it; and neither Martial nor Statius avoids monotony in the use

of it. The freedom of cadence, the varied caesura, and the licences in the

first foot, [122] give the charm of irregular beauty, so sweet in itself

and so rare in Latin poetry; and the rhythm lends itself with equal ease

to playful humour, fierce satire, and tender affection. Other measures,

used with more or less success, are the iambic scazon, [123] the

chorianibic, the glyconic, and the sapphic, all probably introduced from

the Greek by Catullus. Of these the sapphic is the least perfected. If the

eleventh and fifty-first odes be compared with the sapphic odes of Horace,

the great metrical superiority of the latter will at once appear. Catullus

copies the Greek rhythm in its details without asking whether these are in

accordance with the genius of the Latin language. Horace, by adopting

stricter rules, produces a much more harmonious effect. The same is true

of Catullus's treatment of the elegiac, as compared with that of

Propertius or Ovid. The Greek elegiac does not require any stop at the end

of the couplet, nor does it affect any special ending; words of seven

syllables or less are used by it indifferently. The trisyllabic ending,

which is all but unknown to Ovid, occurs continually in Catullus; even the

monosyllabic, which is altogether avoided by succeeding poets, occurs

once. [124] Another licence, still more alien from Roman usage, is the

retention of a short or unelided syllable at the end of the first

penthemimer. [125] Catullus's elegiac belongs to the class of half-adapted

importations, beautiful in its way, but rather because it recalls the

exquisite cadences of the Greek than as being in itself a finished

artistic product.

The six long poems are of unequal merit. The modern reader will not find

much to interest him in the _Coma Berenices_, abounding as it does in

mythological allusions. [126] The poem to Mallius or Allius, [127] written

at Verona, is partly mythological, partly personal, and though somewhat

desultory, contains many fine passages. Catullus pleads his want of books

as an excuse for a poor poem, implying that a full library was his usual

resort for composition. This poem was written shortly after his brother's

death, which throws a vein of melancholy into the thought. In it, and

still more happily in his two _Epithalamia_, [128] he paints with deep

feeling the joys of wedded love. The former of these, which celebrates the

marriage of Manlius Torquatus, is the loveliest product of his genius. It

is marred by a few gross allusions, but they are not enough to interfere

with its general effect. It rings throughout with joyous exultation, and

on the whole is innocent as well as full of warm feeling. It is all

movement; the scene opens before us; the marriage god wreathed with

flowers and holding the _flammeum_, or nuptial veil, leads the dance; then

the doors open, and amid waving torches the bride, blushing like the

purple hyacinth, enters with downcast mien, her friends comforting her;

the bridegroom stands by and throws nuts to the assembled guests; light

railleries are banded to and fro; meanwhile the bride is lifted over the

threshold, and sinks on the nuptial couch, _alba parthenice velut,

luteumve papaver_. The different sketches of _Auruneuleia_ as the loving

bride, the chaste matron, and the aged grandame nodding kindly to

everybody, please from their unadorned simplicity as well as from their

innate beauty.