*HISTORY*
OF
*ROMAN LITERATURE,*
FROM
*ITS EARLIEST PERIOD*
TO
THE AUGUSTAN AGE.
IN TWO VOLUMES.
BY
John Dunlop,
AUTHOR OF THE HISTORY OF FICTION.
FROM THE LAST LONDON EDITION.
VOL. I.
PUBLISHED BY
E. LITTELL, CHESTNUT STREET, PHILADELPHIA.
G. & C. CARVILL, BROADWAY, NEW YORK.
1827
_James Kay, Jun. Printer,_
_S. E. Corner of Race & Sixth Streets,_
_Philadelphia._
CONTENTS.
Preface
Etruria
Livius Andronicus
Cneius Nævius
Ennius
Plautus
Cæcilius
Afranius
Luscius Lavinius
Trabea
Terence
Pacuvius
Attius
Satire
Lucilius
Titus Lucretius Carus
Caius Valerius Catullus
Valerius Ædituus
Laberius
Publius Syrus
Index
Transcriber’s note
PREFACE.
There are few subjects on which a greater number of laborious volumes have
been compiled, than the History and Antiquities of ROME. Everything
connected with its foreign policy and civil constitution, or even with the
domestic manners of its citizens, has been profoundly and accurately
investigated. The mysterious origin of Rome, veiled in the wonders of
mythological fable—the stupendous increase of its power, rendered yet more
gigantic by the mists of antiquity—its undaunted heroes, who seem to us
like the genii of some greater world—its wide dominion, extended over the
whole civilized globe—and, finally, its portentous fall, which forms, as
it were, the separation between ancient and modern times, have rendered
its civil and military history a subject of prevailing interest to all
enlightened nations. But, while its warlike exploits, and the principles
of its political institutions, have been repeatedly and laboriously
investigated, less attention, perhaps, has been paid to the history of its
literature, than to that of any other country, possessed of equal
pretensions to learning and refinement; and, in the English language at
least, no connected view of its Rise, its Progress, and Decline, has been
as yet presented to us. When the battles of Rome have been accurately
described, and all her political intrigues minutely developed—when so much
inquiry and thought have been bestowed, not only on the wars, conquests,
and civil institutions of the Romans, but on their most trivial customs,
it is wonderful that so little has been done to exhibit the intellectual
exertions of the fancy and the reason, of their most refined and exalted
spirits.
It cannot, indeed, be denied, that the civil history of Rome, and her
military operations, present our species in a lofty aspect of power,
magnanimity, and courage—that they exhibit the widest range and utmost
extent of the human powers in enterprize and resources—and that statesmen
or philosophers may derive from them topics to illustrate almost every
political speculation. Yet, however vast and instructive may be the page
which unfolds the eventful history of the foreign hostilities and internal
commotions of the Roman people, it can hardly be more interesting than the
analogies between their literary attainments and the other circumstances
of their condition;—the peculiarities of their literature, its peculiar
origination, and the peculiar effects which it produced. The literature of
a people may indeed, in one sense, be regarded as the most attractive
feature of its history. It is at once the effect of leisure and
refinement, and the means of increasing and perpetuating the civilization
from which it springs. Literature, as a late writer has powerfully and
eloquently demonstrated, possesses an extensive moral agency, and a close
connection with glory, liberty, and happiness(1); and hence the _history_
of literature becomes associated with all that concerns the fame, the
freedom, and the felicity of nations. “There is no part of history,” says
Dr Johnson, “so generally useful, as that which relates the progress of
the human mind—the gradual improvement of reason—the successive advances
of science—the vicissitudes of learning and ignorance, which are the light
and darkness of thinking beings—the extinction and resuscitation of arts,
and the revolutions of the intellectual world. If accounts of battles and
invasions are peculiarly the business of princes, the useful or elegant
arts are not to be neglected(2).” If, then, in the literary history of
Rome, we do not meet with those dazzling events, and stupendous results,
which, from their lustre and magnitude, still seem, as it were, placed at
the summit of human affairs, we shall find in it more intelligence and
order, in consequence of its progress being less dependent on passion and
interest. The trophies, too, of the most absolute power, and the most
unlimited empire, seem destined, as if by a moral necessity, to pass away:
But the dominion which the writers of Rome exercise over the human mind,
will last as long as the world, or at least as long as its civilization—
“Alas, for Tully’s voice, and Virgil’s lay,
And Livy’s pictured page!—But these shall be
Her resurrection; all beside—decay(3).”
There are chiefly two points of view, in which literary history may be
regarded as of high utility and importance. The _first_ is the
consideration of the powerful effect of literature on the manners and
habits of the people among whom it flourishes. It is noble, indeed, in
itself, and its productions are glorious, without any relative
considerations. An ingenious literary performance has its intrinsic
merits, and would delight an enthusiastic scholar, or contemplative
philosopher, in perfect solitude, even though he himself were the only
reader, and the work the production of a Being of a different order from
himself. But what renders literature chiefly interesting, is the influence
which it exercises on the dignity and happiness of human nature, by
improving the character, and enlarging the capacity, of our species. A
stream, however grand or beautiful in itself, derives its chief interest
from a consideration of its influence on the landscape it adorns; and, in
this point of view, literature has been well likened to “a noble lake or
majestic river, which imposes on the imagination by every impression of
dignity and sublimity. But it is the moisture that insensibly arises from
them, which, gradually mingling with the soil, nourishes all the
luxuriance of vegetation, and fructifies and adorns the surface of the
earth(4).”
Literature, however, has not in all ages denoted, with equal accuracy, the
condition of mankind, or been equally efficacious in impelling their
progress, and contributing to their improvement. In the ancient empires of
the East, where monarchies were despotic, and priests the only scholars,
learning was regarded by those who were possessed of it rather as a means
of confirming an ascendancy over the vulgar, than of improving their
condition; and they were more desirous to perpetuate the subjection, than
contribute to the melioration of mankind. Accordingly, almost every trace
of this confined and perverted learning has vanished from the world. In
the freer states of antiquity, as the republics of Greece and Rome,
letters found various outlets, by which their improving influence was
imparted, more or less extensively, to the bulk of the citizens. Dramatic
representations were among the most favourite amusements, and oratorical
displays excited among all classes the most lively interest. Such public
exhibitions established points of contact, from which light was elicited.
The mind of the multitude was enriched by the contemplation of superior
intellect, and mankind were, to a certain extent, united by the reception
of similar impressions, and the excitement of similar emotions.
Still, however, the history of any part of ancient literature is, in
respect of its influence on the condition of states, far less important
than that of modern nations. From the high price and scarcity of books, a
restriction was imposed on the diffusion of knowledge. “A bulwark existed
between the body of mankind and the reflecting few. They were distinct
nations inhabiting the same country; and the opinions of the one, speaking
comparatively with modern times, had little influence on the other(5).”
The learned, in those days, wrote only or chiefly for the learned and the
great. They neither expected nor cultivated the approbation of the mass of
mankind. An extensive and noisy celebrity was interdicted. It was only
with the more estimable part of his species that the author was united by
that sympathy which we term the Love of Fame. He was the head, not of a
numerous, but of a select community. By nothing short of the highest
excellence could he hope for the approbation of judges so skilful, or
expect an immortality so difficult to be preserved. While this may,
perhaps, have contributed to the polish and perfection of literary works,
it is obvious that the general influence of letters must have been less
humanizing, and must have had less tendency to unite and assimilate
mankind. Even philosophers, whose peculiar business was the instruction of
their species, had no mode of disseminating or perpetuating their
opinions, except by the formation of sects and schools, which created for
the masters, pupils who were the followers of his creed, and the
depositaries of his claims to immortality.
It is the invention of the art of printing which has at length secured the
widest diffusion, and an unlimited endurance, to learning and
civilization. As a stone thrown into the sea agitates (it has been said)
more or less every drop in the expanse of ocean, so every thought that is
now cast into the fluctuating but ceaseless tide of letters, will more or
less affect the human mind, and influence the human condition, throughout
all the habitable globe, and “to the last syllable of time.”
It is this, and not the height to which individual genius has soared, that
forms the grand distinction between ancient and modern literature. The
triumph of modern literature consists not in the point of elevation to
which it has attained, but in the extent of its conquests—the extent to
which it has refined and quickened the mass of mankind. It would be
difficult to adjust the intellectual precedence of Newton and
Archimedes—of Bacon and Aristotle—of Shakspeare and Homer—of Thucydides
and Hume: But it may be declared with certainty, that the people of modern
nations, in consequence of literature being more widely diffused, have
become more civilized and enlightened. The Indus and Oronoko, rolling amid
woods and deserts their waste of waters, may seem superior to the Thames
in the view of the mere admirer of the grandeur and magnificence of
nature; but how inferior are they in the eye of the philosopher and
historian!
With regard to the Romans, in particular, they are allowed to have been a
civilized nation, powerfully constituted, and wisely governed, previous to
the existence of any author in the Latin language. Their character was
formed before their literature was created: their moral and patriotic
dignity, indeed, had reached its highest perfection, in the age in which
their literature commenced—the age of Lælius and Africanus. Except in the
province of the drama, it always continued a patrician attribute; and
though intellectual improvement could not have facilitated the inroads of
vice and guilty ambition, it certainly proved inadequate to stem the tide
of moral corruption, to mitigate the sanguinary animosities of faction, or
to retard the establishment of despotism.
Literary history is, _secondly_, of importance, as being the index of the
character and condition of a people—as holding up a mirror, which reflects
the manners and customs of remote or ancient nations. The less influence,
however, which literature exercises, the less valuable will be its picture
of life and manners. It must also be admitted, that from a separate cause,
the early periods, at least, of Roman literature, possess not in this
point of view any peculiar attractions. When literature is indigenous, as
it was in Greece, where authors were guided by no antecedent system, and
their compositions were shaped on no other model than the objects
themselves which they were occupied in delineating, or the living passions
they portrayed, an accurate estimate of the general state of manners and
feeling may be drawn from works written at various epochs of the national
history. But, at Rome, the pursuit of literature was neither a native nor
predominant taste among the people. The Roman territory was always a
foreign soil for letters, which were not the produce of national genius,
but were naturalized by the assiduous culture of a few individuals reared
in the schools of Greece. Indeed, the early Roman authors, particularly
the dramatic, who, of all others, best illustrate the prevalent ideas and
sentiments of a nation, were mere translators from the Greek. Hence, those
delineations, which at first view might appear to be characteristic
national sketches, are in fact the draught of foreign manners, and the
mirror of customs which no Roman adopted, or of sentiments in which,
perhaps, no Roman participated.
Since, then, the literature of Rome exercised but a limited influence on
the conduct of its citizens, and as it reciprocally reflects but a partial
light on their manners and institutions, its history must, in a great
measure, consist of biographical sketches of _authors_—of critical
accounts of their _works_—and an examination of the _influence_ which
these works have exercised on modern literature. The _authors_ of Rome
were, in their characters, and the events of their lives, more interesting
than the writers of any ancient or modern land. The authors who flourished
during the existence of the Roman Republic, were Cato the Censor, Cicero,
and Cæsar; men who (independently of their literary claims to celebrity)
were unrivalled in their own age and country, and have scarcely been
surpassed in any other. I need not here anticipate those observations
which the _works_ of the Roman authors will suggest in the following
pages. Though formed on a model which has been shaped by the Greeks, we
shall perceive through that spirit of imitation which marks all their
literary productions, a tone of practical utility, derived from the
familiar acquaintance which their writers exercised with the business and
affairs of life; and also that air of nationality, which was acquired from
the greatness and unity of the Roman republic, and could not be expected
in literary works, produced where there was a subdivision of states in the
same country, as in Greece, modern Italy, Germany, and Britain. We shall
remark a characteristic authority of expression, a gravity,
circumspection, solidity of understanding, and dignity of sentiment,
produced partly by the moral firmness that distinguished the character of
the Romans, their austerity of manners, and tranquillity of temper, but
chiefly by their national pride, and the exalted name of Roman citizen,
which their authors bore. And, finally, we shall recognise that love of
rural retirement which originated in the mode of life of the ancient
Italians, and was augmented by the pleasing contrast which the undisturbed
repose and simple enjoyments of rural existence presented to the bustle of
an immense and agitated capital. In the last point of view that has been
alluded to—the _influence_ which these works have exercised on modern
letters—it cannot be denied that the literary history of Rome is
peculiarly interesting. If the Greeks gave the first impulse to
literature, the Romans engraved the traces of its progress deeper on the
world. “The earliest writers,” as has been justly remarked, “took
possession of the most striking objects for description, and the most
probable occurrences for fiction, and left nothing to those that followed,
but transcriptions of the same events, and new combinations of the same
images(6).” The great author from whom these reflections are quoted, had
at one time actually “projected a work, to show how small a quantity of
invention there is in the world, and that the same images and incidents,
with little variation, have served all the authors who have ever
written(7).” Had he prosecuted his intention, he would have found the
notion he entertained fully confirmed by the history both of dramatic and
romantic fiction; he would have perceived the incapacity of the most
active and fertile imagination greatly to diversify the common characters
and incidents of life, which, on a superficial view, one might suppose to
be susceptible of infinite combinations; he would have found, that while
Plautus and Terence servilely copied from the Greek dramatists, even
Ariosto scarcely diverged in his comedies from the paths of Plautus.
* * * * * * *
But whatever may be the advantages or imperfections of a literary subject
in its own nature, it is evident that it can never be treated with effect
or utility, unless sufficient materials exist for compilation.
Unfortunately, there was no historian of Roman literature among the Romans
themselves. Many particulars, however, with regard to it, as also
judgments on productions which are now lost, may be collected from the
writings of Cicero; and many curious remarks, as well as amusing
anecdotes, may be gathered from the works of the latter Classics; as
Pliny’s _Natural History_, the _Institutes_ of Quintilian, the _Attic
Nights_ of Aulus Gellius, and the _Saturnalia_ of Macrobius.
Among modern authors who have written on the subject of Roman literature,
the first place is unquestionably due to Tiraboschi, who, though a cold
and uninteresting critic, is distinguished by soundness of judgment and
labour of research. The first and second volumes of his great work, _Della
Letteratura Italiana_, are occupied with the subject of Roman literature;
and though not executed with the same ability as the portion of his
literary history relating to modern Italy, they may safely be relied on
for correctness of facts and references.
The recent French work of Schoell, entitled, _Histoire __Abregée__ de la
Litterature Romaine_, is extremely succinct and unsatisfactory on the
early periods of Roman literature. Though consisting of four volumes, the
author, at the middle of the first volume of the book, has advanced as far
as Virgil. It is more complete in the succeeding periods, and, like his
_Histoire de la Litterature Grecque_, is rather a history of the decline,
than of the progress and perfection of literature.
A number of German works, (chiefly, however, bibliographical,) have lately
appeared on the subject of Roman literature. I regret, that from
possessing but a recent and limited acquaintance with the language, I have
not been able to draw so extensively as might have been wished from these
sources of information.
* * * * * * *
The composition of the present volumes was not suggested by any of the
works which I have mentioned on the subject of Roman literature; but by
the perusal of an elegant, though somewhat superficial production, on “The
Civil and Constitutional History of Rome, from its Foundation to the Age
of Augustus(8).” It occurred to me that a History of Roman _Literature_,
during the same period, might prove not uninteresting. There are three
great ages in the literary history of Rome—that which precedes the æra of
Augustus—the epoch which is stamped with the name of that emperor—and the
interval which commenced immediately after his death, and may be
considered as extending to the destruction of Rome. Of these periods, the
first and second run into each other with respect to dates, but the
difference in their spirit and taste may be easily distinguished. Although
Cicero died during the triumvirate of Octavius, his genius breathes only
the spirit of the Republic; and though Virgil and Horace were born during
the subsistence of the commonwealth, their writings bear the character of
monarchical influence.
The ensuing volumes include only the first of these successive periods.
Whether I shall hereafter proceed to investigate the history of the
others, will depend on the reception which the present effort may obtain,
and on other circumstances which I am equally unable to anticipate.
* * * * * * *
MEANWHILE, I have made considerable alterations, and, I trust,
improvements, in the present edition. These, however, are so much
interwoven with the body of the work, that they cannot be specified—except
some additional Translations from the Fragments of the older Latin poets—a
Dissertation on the _Tachygraphy_, or short-hand writing of the Romans,
introduced at the commencement of the Appendix—and a Critical Account of
Cicero’s Dialogue _De Republica_, which, though discovered, had not issued
from the press when the former edition was published.
*HISTORY*
OF
*ROMAN LITERATURE, &C.*
“Parva quoque, ut ferme principia omnia, et ea ipsa peregrina
res fuit.”
LIVY, lib. vii. c. 2.
*HISTORY*
OF
*ROMAN LITERATURE, &c.*
In tracing the Literary History of a people, it is important not only to
ascertain whence their first rudiments of knowledge were derived, but even
to fix the origin of those tribes, whose cultivation, being superior to
their own, acted as an incentive to literary exertion. The privilege,
however, assumed by national vanity, _miscendi humana divinis_, has
enveloped the antiquities of almost every country in darkness and mystery:
But there is no race whose early history is involved in greater obscurity
and contradiction than the first inhabitants of those Italian states,
which finally formed component parts of the Roman republic. The origin of
the five Saturnian, and twelve Etruscan cities, is lost in the mist of
ages; and we may as well hope to obtain credible information concerning
the monuments of Egypt or India, as to investigate their inscrutable
antiquities. At the period when light is first thrown, by authentic
documents, on the condition of Italy, we find it occupied by various
tribes, which had reached different degrees of civilization, which spoke
different dialects, and disputed with each other the property of the lands
whence they drew their subsistence. All before that time is founded on
poetical embellishment, the speculations of theorists, or national vanity
arrogating to itself a Trojan, a Grecian, or even a divine original.
The happy situation of Italy, imbosomed in a sea, which washed not only
the coast of all the south of Europe, but likewise the shores of Africa
and Asia, afforded facilities for communication and commerce with almost
every part of the ancient world. It is probable, that a country gifted
like this peninsula, with a fertile soil, incomparable climate, and
unusual charms of scenery, attracted the attention of its neighbours, and
sometimes allured them from less favoured settlements. “Il semble,” says a
recent French writer, “que les Dieux aient lancé l’Italie au milieu du
vaste océan comme un Phare immense qui appelle les navigateurs des pays
les plus eloignés”(9). The customs, and even names, which were prevalent
in Egypt, Phœnicia, and Greece, were thus introduced into Italy, and
formed materials from which the framers of systems have constructed
theories concerning its first colonization by the Egyptians, the Pelasgi,
or whatever nation they chose. There is scarcely, however, an ancient
history or document entitled to credit, and recording the arrival of a
colony in Italy, which does not also mention that the new-comers found
prior tribes, with whom they waged war, or intermixed.
The ample lakes and lofty mountains, by which Italy is intersected,
naturally divided its inhabitants into separate and independent nations.
Of these by far the most celebrated were the Etruscans. The origin of this
remarkable people, called Tyrrhenians by the Greeks, and Thusci, or
Etrusci, by the Latins, has been a subject of endless controversy among
antiquarians; and, indeed, had perplexed the ancients no less than it has
puzzled the moderns. Herodotus, the earliest authentic historian whose
works are now extant, represents them as a colony of Lydians, who were
themselves a tribe of the vagrant Pelasgi. In the reign of Atys, son of
Menes, the Lydian nation being driven to extremity by famine, the king
divided it into two portions, one of which was destined to remain in Asia,
and the other to emigrate under the conduct of his son Tyrrhenus. The
inhabitants who composed the latter division leaving their country,
repaired to Smyrna, where they built vessels, and removed in search of new
abodes. After touching on various shores, they penetrated into the heart
of Italy, and at length settled in Umbria. There they constructed
dwellings, and called themselves Tyrrhenians, from the name of their
leader(10). Some of the circumstances which Herodotus relates as having
occurred previous to the emigration of the Lydian colony appear fabulous,
as the invention of games, in order to appease the sensation of hunger,
and the fasting every alternate day for a space of eighteen years; and it
would, perhaps, be too much to assert, that before the Lydians, no other
tribe had ever set foot in Umbria or Etruria. But the account of the
departure of the colony is itself plausible, and its truth appears to be
corroborated, if not confirmed, by certain resemblances in the language,
religion, and pastimes of the Lydians, and of the ancient Etruscans(11).
The manners, too, and customs of the Lydians, did not differ essentially
from those of the Greeks; and the princes of Lydia, like the sovereigns of
Persia, being accustomed to employ Phœnician or Egyptian sailors, the
colony of Lydians, which settled in Italy, might thus contain a mixture of
such people, and present those appearances which have led some
antiquarians to consider the Etruscans as Phœnicians or Egyptians, while
others have regarded them as Greeks. The writers of antiquity, though
varying in particulars, have followed, in general, the tradition delivered
by Herodotus concerning the descent of the Etruscans. Cicero, Strabo(12),
Velleius Paterculus(13), Seneca, Pliny, Plutarch(14), and Servius, all
affirm that they came from Lydia; and to these may be added Catullus, who
calls the lake Benacus _Lydiæ lacus undæ_, obviously because he considered
the ancient Etruscans, within whose extended territory it lay, as of
Lydian origin. It is evident, too, that the Etruscans themselves believed
that they had sprung from the Lydians, and that they inculcated this
belief on others. Tacitus informs us, that, in the reign of Tiberius, a
contest concerning their respective antiquity arose among eleven cities of
Asia, which were heard by their deputies in presence of the Emperor. The
Sardians rested their claims on an alleged affinity to the Etruscans, and,
in support of their pretensions, produced an ancient decree, in which that
people declared themselves descended from the followers of Tyrrhenus, who
had left their native country of Lydia, and founded new settlements in
Italy(15).
Hellanicus of Lesbos, a Greek historian, nearly contemporary with
Herodotus, and quoted by Dionysius of Halicarnassus, asserted that the
Etruscans were a tribe of Pelasgi, not from Lydia, but from Greece, who
being driven out of their country by the Hellenes, sailed to the mouth of
the Po, and leaving their ships in that river, built the inland town of
Cortona, whence advancing, they peopled the whole territory afterwards
called Tyrrhenia(16).
Dionysius of Halicarnassus holds the account of those authors, who
maintain that the Etruscans were descended from the Lydians, to be utterly
fabulous, principally on the ground that Xantus, the chief historian of
Lydia, says nothing of any colony having emigrated thence to Italy; and he
is of opinion, that those also are mistaken, who, like Hellanicus of
Lesbos, believed the Etruscans and Pelasgi to be the same people. He
conceives them to have been Aborigines, or natives of the country, as they
radically agreed with no other nation, either in their language or manner
of life. He admits, however, that a tribe of Pelasgi passed from Thessaly
to the mouth of the Po many ages previous to the Trojan war, and directing
their course to the south, occupied a considerable portion of the heart of
Italy. Soon after their arrival, they assisted the aboriginal Etruscans in
their wars with the Siculi, whom they forced to seek refuge in Sicily, the
seat of the ancient Sicani. Subsequent to this alliance, they were again
dispersed in consequence of disease and famine; but a few still remained
behind, and being incorporated with the original inhabitants, bestowed on
them whatever in language or customs appeared to be common to the
Etruscans, with other nations of Pelasgic descent(17).
Several eminent writers among the moderns have partly coincided with
Dionysius. Dempster seems to think that there was an indigenous population
in Etruria, but that it was increased both by the Lydian emigration and by
colonies of Pelasgi from Greece(18). Bochart is nearly of the same
opinion; only he farther admits of a direct intercourse between the
Etruscans and Phœnicians, whence the former may have received many
Oriental fables and customs. He denies, however, that there was any
resemblance in the languages of these two people; and the Etruscan arts he
believes to have been chiefly derived from Greece(19). The opinion of
Bochart on these latter points is so much the more entitled to weight, as
his prepossessions would have led him to maintain an opposite system could
it have been plausibly supported. Gibbon also declares in favour of
Dionysius; and, as to the relation of Herodotus, he says, “L’opinion
d’Herodote, qui les fait venir de la Lydie, ne peut convenir qu’aux
poetes”(20). Several recent Italian writers likewise have maintained,
that, previous to the arrival of any Lydian or Pelasgic colony, there
existed what they term an indigenous population, by which they do not
merely signify a population whose origin cannot be traced, since they hint
pretty broadly, that Etruria had its Adam and Eve as much as Eden(21).
Gorius derives every thing Etruscan from Egypt or Phœnicia. These
countries he considers as the original seats of the Pelasgi, who, being
driven out of them, settled in Achaia, Thrace, Arcadia, and Lydia, and
from these regions gradually, and at different times, passed into
Italy(22).
A similar system has been adopted by Lord Monboddo.—From a resemblance in
their letters and language to those of the Greeks, he believes the
Etruscans to have been a very ancient colony of the roaming Pelasgi who
left Arcadia in quest of new settlements. These Pelasgi, however, he
maintains, were not themselves indigenous in Arcadia, as they issued
originally from Egypt, where there was a district and a city of the name
of Arcadia(23).
Mazzochi follows the oriental theory, but does not venture to determine
from what eastern region the Etruscans emigrated. He merely affirms, that
they spread from the east, under which term he includes regions very
remote from each other—Assyria, Armenia, Canaan, and Egypt(24). He also
thinks that they came directly from the east, without having previously
passed through Lydia or Arcadia: For, if they had, the monuments of these
latter countries would exhibit (which they do not) still stronger remains
of oriental antiquity than those of the Etruscans. This descent Mazzochi
attempts to confirm by the most fanciful derivations of words and proper
names of the Etruscan nation from the eastern languages, especially from
the Hebrew and Syriac. Thus one of the most extensive plains in Italy, and
the spot where, in all probability, the oriental colony first landed, is
near the æstuary of the Po. This plain they naturally called Paddan, one
of the names of the level Mesopotamia, and the appellation of the district
soon came to be transferred to the river Padus or Po, by which it was
bounded. It occurred to the author, however, that the Eridanus was the
more ancient name of the Po; but this only furnishes him with a new
argument. Eraz, it seems, signifies in Hebrew, a cedar, or any sort of
resinous tree, and the orientals, finding a number of trees of this nature
on the banks of the Po, and Z being a convertible letter with D, they
could not fail to call the river, near which they grew in such abundance,
the Eridanus(25).
Bonarota has deduced the origin of the Etruscans from Egypt—a theory which
has chiefly been grounded on the resemblance of the remains of their arts
with the monuments of the ancient Egyptians(26).
Maffei brings them directly from Canaan, and supposes them to have been
the race expelled from that region by the Moabites, or children of Lot.
The river Arnon, (whence Arno,) flowed not far from that part of Canaan,
where Lot and Abram first sojourned; one of its districts was called
Etroth, (whence Etruria); and on the banks of the Arnon stood the city Ar,
a syllable which is a frequent compound in Etruscan appellatives. The
Etruscans erected their places of worship on hills or high places—they
formed corporeal images of their divine beings like the idolatrous race
from whom they sprung—but above all, their divinations and profession of
augury, identified them with those original inhabitants of Canaan, of whom
it is said, “that they hearkened unto observers of times and unto
diviners”(27).
By far the most voluminous, but at the same time one of the most fanciful
writers concerning the Etruscans, is Guarnacci, who maintains, that they
came directly from the east, and were stragglers who had been dispersed by
Noah’s flood, or, at the very latest, by the confusion at Babel. The Umbri
and Aborigines, according to him, were the same people, under a different
denomination, as the Etruscans: They gradually spread themselves over all
Italy, and some tribes of them, called, from their wandering habits,
Pelasgi, at length emigrated to Greece and Lydia; so that, whatever
similarity has been traced in the language, religion, manners, or arts, of
the Greeks and Etruscans, is the consequence of the Etruscan colonization
of Greece, and not, as is generally supposed, of Italy having been peopled
by Pelasgic colonies from Arcadia or Peloponnesus(28).
In general, the oriental system has been maintained in opposition to all
other theories, chiefly on the ground that the Etruscans, like many
eastern nations, wrote from right to left, and that, like the Hebrews,
they often marked down only the consonants, leaving the reader to supply
the auxiliary vowels.
The oriental theory, in all its modifications, has been strenuously
opposed by a number of learned Italian, French, and German antiquaries,
who have contended for the northern and Celtic origin of the Etruscans,
and have ridiculed the opinions of their predecessors as if they
themselves were about to promulgate a more rational system. Bardetti,
while he admits a colonization of Italy from foreign quarters, prior even
to the Trojan war, maintains, that it was inhabited by a primitive
population long before the landing of the Lydians or Pelasgi: That
previous to the arrival of the latter tribe at the mouth of the Po, which
happened 300 years before the siege of Troy, there had been no navigation
to Italy from Egypt, or any other country: That, therefore, this primitive
population must have come by land, and could have been no other than bands
of Celts who were the immediate posterity of Japheth, and who, having
originally settled in Gaul, descended to Italy from the Alps by Rhetium,
Tirol, and Trent. Their first seats were the regions along the banks of
the Po; the earliest tribes of their population were called Ligurians and
Umbrians, and from them sprung the Etrurians, and all the other ancient
nations of Italy(29).
A system nearly similar has been followed by Pelloutier(30), Freret(31),
and Funccius(32), and has been adopted, with some modifications, by
Adelung, and also by Heyne(33), who, however, admits that other tribes
besides the Gallic race, may have contributed to the population of
Etruria(34).
This theory, whether deducing the Etruscans from the Celts of Gaul or from
the Teutonic tribes of Germany, is too often supported by remote and
fanciful etymologies; and, so far as depends on authority, it chiefly
rests on an ambiguous passage of the ancient historian Boccus, (quoted by
Solinus,) where it is said, _Gallorum veterum propaginem Umbros esse_, and
taken in connection with this, the assertion of Pliny, _Umbrorum gens
antiquissima Italiæ existimatur_(35).
ETRURIA.
The most learned and correct writer on the subject of the Etruscans is
Lanzi. In his elaborate work(36), (in which he has followed out and
improved on a system first started by Ulivieri,) he does not pretend to
investigate the origin of this celebrated race, though he seems to think
that they were Lydians, augmented from time to time by tribes of the
Pelasgi. But he has tried to prove that whatever may have been their
descent, the religion, learning, language, and arts of the Etruscans must
be referred to a Greek origin, and he refutes Gori and Caylus, who,
deceived by a few imperfect analogies, ascribed them to the Egyptians. The
period of Etruscan perfection in the arts, and formation of those vases
and urns which we still admire, was posterior, he maintains, to the
subjugation of Etruria by the Romans, and at a time when an intercourse
with Greece had rendered the Etruscans familiar with models of Grecian
perfection. As to the language, he does not indeed deny that all languages
came originally from the east, and that many Greek words sprung from
Hebrew roots; but there are in the Etruscan tongue, he asserts, such clear
traces of Hellenism, particularly in the names of gods and heroes, that it
is impossible to ascribe its origin to any other source. In particular, he
attempts to show from the inscriptions on the Eugubian tables, that the
Etruscan language was the Æolic Greek, since it has neither the
monosyllables characteristic of northern tongues, nor the affixes and
suffixes peculiar to oriental dialects(37).
From whatever nation originally sprung, the Etruscans at an early period
attained an enviable height of prosperity and power. Etruria Proper, or
the most ancient Etruria, reached from the Arno to the Tiber, being nearly
bounded all along by these rivers, from their sources to their junction
with the Tyrrhenian sea. Soon, however, the Etruscans passed those narrow
limits;—to the north, they spread their conquests over the Ligurians, who
inhabited the region beyond the Arno, and to this territory the conquerors
gave the name of New Etruria. To the south, they crossed the Tiber, made
allies or tributaries of the Latins, and introduced among them many of
their usages and rites. Having thus opened a way through Latium, they
drove the Osci from the fertile plains of Campania, and founded the city
of Capua, about fifty years before the building of Rome. Colonies, too,
were sent out by them to spots beyond their immediate sway, till at length
the Italian name was nearly sunk in that of the Etruscans. Their minds,
however, were not wholly bent on conquest and political aggrandizement;
their attention was also directed to useful institutions, and to the
cultivation of the fine arts. The twelve confederated cities of Etruria
were embellished with numberless monuments of architecture; wholesome laws
were enacted, commerce was extended along all the shores of the
Mediterranean: and, in short, by their means the general progress of
civilization in Italy was prodigiously accelerated. The glory and
prosperity of the Etruscans were at their height before Rome yet possessed
a name. But their government, like that of all other republics, contained
the seeds of decay. Each state had the choice of remaining as a
commonwealth, or electing a king; but the Kings, or Lucumons, as they were
usually called, were only the priests and presidents of the different
cities of the confederation. There was no monarch of the whole realm; and
it is the series of these Lucumons that has swelled the confused list of
kings presented by Etruscan antiquaries. Each state had also the privilege
of separately declaring war or concluding peace; and each appears, on all
occasions, to have been more anxious for its own safety, than for the
general interests of the union. Hence, rivalships and dissensions
prevailed in the general assemblies of the twelve states. A confederate
government, thus united by a link of political connection, almost as
feeble as the Amphictyonic council of Greece, afforded no such compact
resistance as could oppose an adequate barrier to the _unica vis_ of the
intrepid enemies with whom the Etruscans had now to contend. At sea they
were assailed by the Syracusans and Carthaginians; the Umbrians retook
several of their ancient possessions; they were forced to yield the plains
which lie between the Alps and Apennines to the valour of the Gauls; and
the Samnites expelled them from the yet more desirable and delicious
regions of Campania.
While the Etruscans were thus again confined almost within the territory
which still bears their name, and extends from the Tiber northward to the
Apennines, a yet more formidable foe than any they had hitherto
encountered appeared on the political theatre of Italy. It was Latium,
which had the singular fortune to see one of its towns rise to the supreme
dominion of Italy, and finally of the world. This city, which Dionysius of
Halicarnassus represents as a respectable colony, fitted out from Alba
under the escort of Romulus, and thence supplied with money, provisions,
and arms; but which was more probably composed of outlaws from the Equi,
Marsi, Volsci, and other Latian tribes, had gradually acquired strength,
while the power of the Etruscans had decayed. Enervated by opulence and
luxury(38), they were led to despise the rough unpolished manners of the
Romans; but during centuries of almost incessant warfare, they were daily
taught to dread their military skill and prowess. The fall of Veii was a
tremendous warning, and they now sought to preserve their independence
rather by stratagem than force of arms. At length, in an evil hour, they
availed themselves of the difficulties of their enemy; and, while the
rival republic was pressed on the south by the Samnites, they leagued with
those northern hordes which descended from the Alps to the anticipated
conquest of Rome. Before they had fully united with the Gauls, the Consul
Dolabella annihilated, near the Lake Vadimona, the military population of
Etruria, and the feeble remains of the nation received the imperious
conditions of peace, dictated by the victors, which left them nothing but
the shadow of a great name,—the glory of attending the Roman march to the
conquest of the world, and the vestiges of arts destined to attract the
curiosity and research of the latest posterity.
The vicinity of the Etruscans to Rome, from which their territories were
separated only by the Tiber,—the alliance of their leader, Cœlius, with
Romulus, and the habitation assigned them on the Cœlian Mount,—the
accession to the Roman sovereignty of the elder Tarquin, who was descended
from a Greek family which had fixed its residence in Etruria,—the
settlement of a number of Etruscan prisoners, four years after the
expulsion of the kings, in a street called the _Vicus Tuscus_, in the very
heart of the city;—and, finally, the intercourse produced by the long
period of warfare and political intrigue which subsisted between the
rising republic and their more polished neighbours before they were
incorporated into one state, would be sufficient to account for the Roman
reception of the customs and superstitions of Etruria, as also for the
interchange of literary materials. It does not seem that the hostility of
rival nations prevents the reciprocal adoption of manners and literature.
The romantic gallantry and learning of the Arabs in the south of Spain
soon passed the limits of their splendid empire; and long before the
conquest of Wales the Cambrian fables and traditions concerning Arthur and
his host of heroes were domesticated in the court of England. Accordingly,
we find that the Romans were indebted to the Etruscans for the form of the
robes which invested their magistrates, the pomp that attended their
triumphs, and even the music that animated their legions. The purple vest,
the sceptre surmounted by an eagle, the curule chair, the fasces and
lictors, were the ensigns and accompaniments of supreme authority among
the Etruscans; while the triumphs and ovations, the combats of gladiators
and Circensian games, were common to them and the Romans.
The simple and rustic divinities of Etruria and Latium were likewise the
objects of Roman idolatry, long before the introduction of that more
imposing and elegant mythology which had been embellished by the
conceptions of Homer and the hand of Phidias. Saturn, the reformer of
civil life, though afterwards confounded with the Kronos of the Greeks,
was not of Greek origin. Janus, the _Deorum Deus_ of the Salian verses, to
whom the Romans offered their first sacrifices, and addressed their first
prayers, and whom system-framers have identified with Noah(39), the Indian
Ganesa(40), the Egyptian Oannes(41), and the Ion of the Scandinavians(42),
or have represented as a symbolic type of all things in nature, was truly
an Italian God:—
“Nam tibi par nullum Græcia numen habet(43).”
Faunus and Picus, Bona Dea and Marica, were Etruscan or Latian divinities
of the Saturnian family. Italy was also filled with many local deities, in
consequence of those wonderful natural phænomena which it so abundantly
exhibited, and which its early inhabitants ascribed to invisible powers. A
sulphuric lake was the residence of the Nymph Albunea, and the medicinal
founts of Abano were the acknowledged abodes of a beneficent
genius.—“Nullus lucus sine fonte, nullus fons non sacer, propter
attributos illis deos, qui fontibus præesse dicuntur(44).” All nature was
thus linked by a continued chain of consecrated existence, from the God of
Thunder to the simple Faun. The Vacunia and Feronia of the Sabines were
naturalized by Numa, and the Vejove of Etruria presided in Rome at the
general council of the twelve greater gods, long before a knowledge of the
Grecian Mars or Jupiter. In all their mythology we may remark the grave
and austere character of the ancient Italians(45). Their deities resembled
not the obscene and vicious gods of Greece. They presided over
agriculture, the rights of property, conjugal fidelity, truth and justice;
and in like manner in early Rome,
“Cana Fides et Vesta; Remo cum fratre Quirinus
Jura dabant.” ——