the city to which he had given name became the capital of the literary
world; and arts and learning long continued to be protected even by the
most degenerate of the Ptolemies. But the school which subsisted at
Alexandria was of a very different taste and description from that which
had flourished at Athens in the age of Pericles. In Egypt the Greeks
became a more learned, and perhaps a more philosophical people, than they
had been in the days of their ancient glory at home; but they were no
longer a nation, and with their freedom their whole strength of feeling,
and peculiar tone of mind, were lost. Servitude and royal munificence,
with the consequent spirit of flattery which crept in, and even the
enormous library of Alexandria, were injurious to the elastic and native
spring of poetic fancy. The Egyptian court was crowded with men of
erudition, instead of such men of genius as had thronged the theatre and
_Agora_ of Athens. The courtly _literati_, the academicians, and the
librarians of Alexandria, were distinguished as critics, grammarians,
geographers, or geometricians. With them poetry became a matter of study,
not of original genius or invention, and consequently never reached its
highest flights. Though not without amenity and grace, they wanted that
boldness, sublimity, and poetic enthusiasm by which the bards of the Greek
republics were inspired. When, like Apollonius Rhodius, they attempted
poetry of the highest class, they rose not above an elegant mediocrity; or
when they attained perfection, as in the instance of Theocritus, it was in
the inferior and more delicate branches of the art. Accordingly, these
erudite and ornate poets chiefly selected as the subjects of their muse
didactic topics of astronomy and physics, or obscure traditions derived
from ancient fable. Lycophron immersed himself in such a sea of fabulous
learning, that he became nearly unintelligible, and all of them were
marked with the blemishes of affectation and obscurity, into which learned
poets are most apt to fall. Among the pleiad of Alexandrian poets, none
had so many of the faults and beauties of the school to which he belonged
as Callimachus. He was conspicuous for his profound knowledge of the
ancient traditions of Greece, for his poetic art and elegant
versification, but he was also noted for deficiency of invention and
original genius:—
“Battiades semper toto cantabitur orbe,
Quamvis ingenio non valet, arte valet(507).”
The poem of Catullus has some faults, which may be fairly attributed to
his pedantic model—a certain obscurity in point of diction, and that
ostentatious display of erudition, which characterized the works of the
Alexandrian poets. The Greek original, however, being lost, except two
distichs, it is impossible to institute an accurate comparison; but the
Latin appears to be considerably more diffuse than the Greek. One distich,
which is still extant in the _Scholia_ on Apollonius, has been expanded by
Catullus into three lines; and the following preserved by Theon has been
dilated into four:—
“Ἡ δε Κονων μ’ ἐβλεψεν εν ῆερι τον Βερενικης
Βοστρυχον, ὁν κεινη πασιν ἐθηκε Θεοις(508)”
“Idem me ille Conon cœlesti lumine vidit
E Bereniceo vertice cæsariem,
Fulgentem clare; quam multis illa Deorum,
Lævia protendens brachia, pollicita est.”
Here the three words τον Βερενικης βοστρυχον have been extended into “E
Bereniceo vertice cæsariem fulgentem,” and the single word ἐθηκε has
formed a whole Latin line,
“Lævia protendens brachia, pollicita est(509).”
The Latin poem, like its Greek original, is in elegiac verse, and is
supposed to be spoken by the constellation called _Coma Berenices_. It
relates how Berenice, the queen and sister of Ptolemy, (Euergetes,) vowed
the consecration of her locks to the immortals, provided her husband was
restored to her, safe and successful, from a military expedition on which
he had proceeded against the Assyrians. The king having returned according
to her wish, and her shorn locks having disappeared, it is supposed by one
of those fictions which poetry alone can admit, that Zephyrus, the son of
Aurora, and brother of Memnon, had carried them up to heaven, and thrown
them into the lap of Venus, by whom they were set in the sky, and were
soon afterwards discovered among the constellations by Conon, a court
astronomer. In order to relish this poem, or to enter into its spirit, we
must read it imbued as it were with the belief and manners of the ancient
Egyptians. The locks of Berenice might be allowed to speak and desire,
because they had been converted into stars, which, by an ancient
philosophic system, were supposed to be possessed of animation and
intelligence. Similar honours had been conferred on the crown of Ariadne
and the ship of Isis, and the belief in such transformations was at least
of that popular or traditionary nature which fitted them for the purposes
of poetry. The race, too, of the Egyptian Ptolemies, traced their lineage
to Jupiter, which would doubtless facilitate the reception of the locks of
Berenice among the heavenly orbs. Adulation, however, it must be
confessed, could not be carried higher; the beautiful locks of Berenice,
though metamorphosed into stars, are represented as regretting their
former happy situation, and prefer adorning the brow of Berenice, to
blazing by night in the front of heaven, under the steps of immortals, or
reposing by day in the bosom of Tethys:—
“Non his tam lætor rebus, quam me abfore semper,
Abfore me a dominæ vertice discrucior.”
But though the poem of Callimachus may have been seriously written, and
gravely read by the court of Ptolemy, the lines of Catullus often approach
to something like pleasantry or _persiflage_:
“Invita, O Regina, tuo de vertice cessi ...
Sed qui se ferro postulet esse parem?
Ille quoque eversus mons est, quem maximum in oris
Progenies Phthiæ clara supervehitur;
Quum Medi properare novum mare, quumque juventus
Per medium classi barbara navit Athon.
Quid facient crines, quum ferro talia cedant?”
These lines seem intended is a sort of mock-heroic, and remind us strongly
of the _Rape of the Lock_:
“Steel could the labours of the gods destroy,
And strike to dust the imperial towers of Troy;
Steel could the works of mortal pride confound,
And hew triumphal arches to the ground.
What wonder, then, fair nymph! thy hairs should feel
The conquering force of unresisted steel?”
The _Coma Earini_ of Statius(510), is a poem of the same description as
the _Coma Berenices_. It is written in a style of sufficiently elegant
versification; but what in Callimachus is a courtly, though perhaps rather
extravagant compliment, is in Statius a servile and disgusting adulation
of the loathsome monster, whose vices he so disgracefully flattered.
Antonio Sebastiani, a Latin poet of modern Italy, has imitated Catullus,
by celebrating the locks of a princess of San-Severino. The beauty and
virtues of his heroine had excited the admiration of earth, and the love
of the gods, but with these the jealousy of the goddesses. By their
influence, a malady evoked from Styx threatens the life of the princess,
and occasions the loss of her hair. The gods, indignant at this base
conspiracy, commission Iris to convey the fallen locks to the sky, and to
restore to the princess, along with health, her former freshness and
beauty.
68. _Ad Manlium_. The principal subject of this elegy, is the story of
Laodamia: The best parts, however, are those lines in which the poet
laments his brother, which are truly elegiac—
“Tu, mea, tu moriens, fregisti commoda, frater;
Tecum unà tota est nostra sepulta domus;
Omnia tecum unà perierunt gaudia nostra,
Quæ tuus in vita dulcis alebat amor:
Quojus ego interitu totâ de mente fugavi
Hæc studia, atque omnes delicias animi.”
Catullus seems to have entertained a sincere affection for his brother,
and to have deeply deplored his loss; hence he generally writes well when
touching on this tender topic. Indeed, the only remaining elegy of
Catullus worth mentioning, is that entitled _Inferiæ ad Fratris Tumulum_,
which is another beautiful and affectionate tribute to the memory of this
beloved youth. Vulpius had said, in a commentary on Catullus, that his
brother died while accompanying him in his expedition with Memmius to
Bithynia. This, however, is denied by Ginguené, who quotes two lines from
the _Inferiæ_—
“Multas per gentes, et multa per æquora vectus,
Adveni has miseras, frater, ad inferias,”
in order to show that the poet was at a distance at the time of his
brother’s death, and celebration of his funeral rites. It is possible,
however, that these lines may refer to some subsequent pilgrimage to his
tomb, or, what is most probable, his brother may have died at Troy, while
Catullus was in Bithynia.
None of the remaining poems of Catullus, though written in elegiac verse,
are at all of the description to which we now give the name of elegy. They
are usually termed epigrams, and contain the most violent invectives on
living characters, for the vices in which they indulged, and satire the
most unrestrained on their personal deformities; but few of them are
epigrams in the modern acceptation of the word. An epigram, as is well
known, was originally what we now call a device or inscription, and the
term remained, though the thing itself was changed(511). A Greek anthology
consisting of poems which expressed a simple idea—a sentiment, regret, or
wish, without point or double meaning, had been compiled by Meleager
before the time of Catullus; and hence he had an opportunity of imitating
the style of the Greek epigrams, and occasionally borrowing their
expressions, though generally with application to some of his enemies at
Rome, whom he wished to hold up to the derision or hatred of his
countrymen. Most of these poems were called forth by real occurrences, and
express, without disguise, his genuine feelings at the time: His contempt,
dislike, and resentment, all burst out in poetry. So little is known
concerning the circumstances of his life, or the history of his enmities
or friendships, that some of the lighter productions of Catullus are
nearly unintelligible, while others appear flat and obscure; and in none
can we fully relish the felicity of expression or allusion.
These epigrams of Catullus are chiefly curious and valuable, when
considered as occasional or extemporary productions, which paint the
manners, as well as echo the tone of thought and feeling, which at the
time prevailed in fashionable society at Rome. What chiefly obtrudes
itself on our attention, is the gross personal invective, and indecency of
these compositions, so foreign from anything that would be tolerated in
modern times. The art of rendering others satisfied with themselves, and
consequently with us—the practice of dissembling our feelings, at first to
please, and then by habit,—the custom, if not of flattering our foes, at
least of meeting those we dislike, without reviling them, were talents
unknown in the ancient republic of Rome. The freedom of the times was
accompanied by a frankness and sincerity of language, which we would
consider as rude. Even the best friends attacked each other in the Senate,
and before the various tribunals of justice, in the harshest and most
unmeasured terms of abuse. Philip of Macedon, in an amicable interview
with the Roman general Flaminius, who was accounted the most polite man of
his day, apologized for not having returned an immediate answer to some
proposition which had been made to him, on the ground that none of those
friends, with whom he was in the habit of consulting, were at hand when he
received it; to which Flaminius replied, that the reason he had no friends
near him was, that he had assassinated them all. Matters were little
better in the days of Catullus. At the time he flourished, everything was
made subservient to political advancement; and what _we_ should consider
as the most inexpiable offences, were forgotten, or at least forgiven, as
soon as the interests of ambition required. Accordingly, no person seems
to have blamed the bitter invectives of Catullus; and none of his
contemporaries were surprised or shocked at the unbridled freedom with
which he reviled his enemies. He was merely considered as availing himself
of a privilege, which every one was entitled to exercise. In his days,
ridicule and raillery were oftener directed by malice than by wit: But the
Romans thought no terms unseemly, which expressed the utmost bitterness of
private or political animosity, and an excess of malevolence was received
as sufficient compensation for deficiency in liveliness or humour. As
little were the Romans offended by the obscene images and expressions
which Catullus so frequently employed. Such had not yet been proscribed in
the conversation of the best company. “Among the ancients,” says Porson,
in his review of Brunck’s _Aristophanes_(512), “plain speaking was the
fashion; nor was that ceremonious delicacy introduced, which has taught
men to abuse each other with the utmost politeness, and express the most
indecent ideas in the most modest language. The ancients had little of
this: They were accustomed to call a spade, a spade—to give everything its
proper name. There is another sort of indecency which is infinitely more
dangerous, which corrupts the heart without offending the ear.” Hence the
Muse of light poetry thought not of having recourse to the circumlocutions
or suggestions of modern times. Nor did Catullus suffer in his reputation,
either as an author or man of fashion, from the impurities by which his
poems were poisoned. All this would have been less remarkable in the first
age of Roman literature, as indelicacy of expression is characteristic of
the early poetry of almost every nation. The French epigrams of Regnier,
and his contemporaries Motin and Berthelot, are nearly as gross as those
of Catullus; but at the close of the Roman republic, literature was far
advanced; and if it be true, that as a nation grows corrupted its language
becomes pure, the words and expressions of the Romans, in these last days
of liberty, should have been sufficiently chaste. The obscenities of
Catullus, however, it must be admitted, are oftener the sport of satire,
than the ebullitions of a voluptuous imagination. His sarcastic account of
the debaucheries of Lesbia, is more impure than the pictures of his
enjoyment of her love.
No subject connected with the works of Catullus is more curious than the
different sentiments, which, as we have seen, he expresses with regard to
this woman. His conflict of mind breathes into his poetry every variety of
passion. We behold him now transported with love, now reviling and
despising her as sunk in the lowest abyss of shame, and yet, with this
full knowledge of her abandoned character, her blandishments preserve
undiminished sway over his affections. “At one time,” says a late
translator of Catullus, “we find him upbraiding Lesbia bitterly with her
licentiousness, then bidding her farewell for ever; then beseeching from
the gods resolution to cast her off; then weakly confessing utter
impotence of mind, and submission to hopeless slavery; then, in the
epistle to Manlius, persuading himself, by reason and example, into a
contented acquiescence in her falsehoods, and yet at last accepting with
eagerness, and relying with hope, on her proffered vow of constancy.
Nothing can be more genuine than the rapture with which he depicts his
happiness in her hours of affection; nor than the gloomy despair with
which he is overwhelmed, when he believes himself resolved to quit her for
ever.” And all this, he wrote and circulated concerning a Roman lady,
belonging, it is believed, to one of the first and most powerful families
of the state!
Lesbia, as formerly mentioned, is universally allowed to be Clodia, the
sister of the turbulent Clodius; but there has been a great deal of
discussion and dispute, with regard to the identity of the other
individuals against whom the epigrams are directed. Justus Lipsius(513)
has written a dissertation with regard to Vettius and Cominius. The former
he supposes to be the person mentioned in Cicero’s Letters to Atticus, and
by Suetonius, as having been suborned by Cæsar, to allow himself to be
seized with a weapon on his person, and to confess that he had been
employed by the Chiefs of the Senate to assassinate Pompey—a device
contrived by Cæsar, in order to set Pompey and the Senate at variance.
Cominius was an accuser by profession, and impeached C. Cornelius, whom
Cicero defended(514). Lipsius believes Alphenus to be Pompey, and thinks
that the epigram, directed against him, is supposed to be written in the
person of Cicero. He is of opinion that the poet durst not venture to
mention Pompey’s name, and therefore designed him by an assumed one; but
the epigrams on Julius Cæsar prove that Catullus was neither so scrupulous
nor timid. The greatest number, however, and the most cutting of the
epigrams, are aimed at Gellius, his successful rival in the affections of
Lesbia—
—— “Quem Lesbia malit,
Quam te cum totâ gente, Catulle, tuâ.”
There were two persons of this name at Rome in the time of Catullus—an
uncle and nephew. The first was a notorious profligate, who had wasted his
patrimony, and afterwards headed mobs in the Forum for hire(515). The
nephew was equally dissolute. After the death of Cæsar, he conspired to
assassinate Cassius in the midst of his army, and, having been pardoned,
deserted to Antony. One of the various crimes of which he was suspected,
identifies him as the Gellius branded by our poet, and whose vices were so
great—
—— “Quantum non ultima Tethys,
Non genitor nympharum abluit Oceanus.”
This idea, by the way, of crimes of such crimson dye that they cannot be
washed out by the wide world of waters, seems to have been originally
derived from some verses of the chorus in the Choephoræ of Æschylus—
—— “ποροι τε παντες ἐκ μιας ὁδου
Βαινοντες τον χαιρομυσου
Φονον καθαιροντες ἰουσαν ατην.”
The great successor of Æschylus expressed the same idea, in different
language, in the _Œdipus Tyrannus_—
“Ὀιμαι γαρ ὀυτ’ αν Ιστρον ὀυτε Φασιν αν
Νιψαι καθαρμω τηνδε στεγην, ὁσα
Κευθει.”
Seneca, imitating Catullus, in his _Hercules Furens_, says—
—— “Arctoum licet
Mæotis in me gelida transfundat mare,
Et tota Thetis per meas currat manus,
Hærebit altum facinus.” ——
There is a remarkable resemblance betwixt this idea and a well-known
passage in _Macbeth_:
“Will all great Neptune’s ocean wash this blood
Clean from my hand?” ——
Much dispute has existed with regard to the comparative merit of the
epigrammatic productions of Catullus, and those of Martial, who sharpened
the Latin epigram, and endeavoured to surprise, by terminating an ordinary
thought with some word or expression, which formed a _point_. Of the three
great triumvirs of Latin literature, Joseph Scaliger, Lipsius, and
Muretus, the last considers Catullus as far superior to his successor, as
the wit of a gentleman to that of a scoffer and buffoon, while the two
former award the palm to Martial. Their respective merits are very well
summed up by Vavassor.—“Catullum quidem, puro ac simplici candore, et
nativa quadam, minimeque adscita, excellere venustate formæ, quæ accedat
quam proxime ad Græcos. Martialem acumine, quod proprium Latinorum, et
peculiare tunc fieri cœpit, valere; adeoque Catullum toto corpore
epigrammatis esse conspicuum, Martialem clausula præcipue, atque ultimo
fine, in quo relinquat, cum delectatione, aculeum spectari(516).”
There can, I think, be no doubt, that, as an epigrammatist, Martial is
infinitely superior to Catullus; but it is not on his epigrams that the
fame of Catullus rests: He owes his reputation to about a dozen pieces, in
which every word, like a note of music, thrills on the heart-strings. It
is this felicitous selection of the most appropriate and melodious
expressions, which seem to flow from the heart without study or
premeditation, which has rendered him the most _graceful_ of poets:—
—— “Ce naif agrement,
Ce ton de cœur, ce negligé charmant,
Qui le rendit le poëte _des Graces_(517).”
Few poets, besides, have shown more freshness in their conceptions—more
truth and nature in their delineations of amatory passion—more heartfelt
tenderness in grief—and none, certainly, ever possessed a more happy art
of embellishing trivial incidents, by the manner in which he treated them.
Indeed, the most exquisite of his productions, in point of grace and
delicacy, are those which were called forth by the most trifling
occasions; while, at the same time, his Epithalamium of Peleus and Thetis
proves, that he was by no means deficient in that warmth of imagination,
energy of thought, and sublimity of conception, which form the attributes
of perfection in those bards who tread the higher paths of Parnassus.
Catullus is a great favourite with all the early critics and commentators
of the 16th century. The elder Scaliger alone has pronounced on him a
harsh and unmerited sentence: “Catullo,” says he, “docti nomen quare sit
ab antiquis attributum, neque apud alios comperi, neque dum in mentem
venit mihi. Nihil enim non vulgare est in ejus libris: ejus autem syllabæ
cùm duræ sint, tum ipse non raro durus; aliquando vero adeo mollis, ut
fluat, neque consistat. Multa impudica, quorum pudet—multa languida,
quorum miseret—multa coacta, quorum piget(518).” In conclusion, the reader
may, perhaps, like to hear the opinion of the pure and saintly Fenelon,
concerning this obscene pagan.—“Catulle, qu’on ne peut nommer sans avoir
horreur de ses obscenitéz, est au comble de la perfection pour une
simplicité passionnée—
‘Odi et amo: quare id faciam fortasse requiris.
Nescio; sed fieri sentio, et excrucior.’
Combien Ovide et Martial, avec leurs traits ingenieux et façonnéz, sont
ils au dessous de ces paroles negligées, ou le cœur saisi parle seul dans
un espéce de désespoir.”
The different sorts of poetry which Catullus, though not their inventor,
first introduced at Rome, were cultivated and brought to high perfection
by his countrymen. Horace followed, and excelled him in Lyric
compositions. The elegiac measure was adopted with success by Ovid,
Tibullus, and Propertius, and applied by them to the expression of amatory
sentiments, which, if they did not reach the refinement, or pure
devotedness of the middle ages(519), were less gross than those of
Catullus.
In his epigrammatic compositions, Catullus was imitated by several of his
own contemporaries, most of whom also ranked in the number of his friends.
Their works, however, have almost entirely perished. Quintus Lutatius
Catulus, who is praised as an orator and historian by Cicero(520), has
left two epigrams—one, _Ad Theotimum_, translated from Callimachus, the
name Theotimus being merely substituted for that of Cephissus—and the
other, _Ad Roscium Puerum_, addressed to the celebrated actor in his
youth, and quoted by Cicero in his treatise, _De Naturâ Deorum_(521)—
“Constiteram, exorientem Auroram forte salutans;
Cum subito a lævâ Roscius exoritur.
Pace mihi liceat, Cœlestes, dicere vestrâ;
Mortalis visus pulchrior esse deo(522).”
This epigram formed a theme and subject of poetical contest among the
French _beaux esprits_ of the 17th century, who vied with each other in
sonnets and madrigals, entitled _La Belle Matineuse_, written in imitation
of the above verses. One will suffice as a specimen—
LA BELLE MATINEUSE.
“Le silence régnait sur la terre et sur l’onde,
L’air devenait serein, et l’Olympe vermeil,
Et l’amoureux Zephyr affranchi du sommeil
Ressuscitait les fleurs d’une haleine féconde.
L’Aurore déployait l’or de sa tresse blonde,
Et semait de rubis le chemin du soleil.
Enfin ce Dieu venait au plus grand appareil,
Qu’il fût jamais venus pour éclairer le monde.
Quand la jeune Philis au visage riant,
Sortant de son palais, plus clair que l’Orient,
Fit voir une lumière et plus vive et plus belle.
Sacre flambeau de jour, n’en soyez point jaloux;
Vous parûtes alors aussi peu devant elle,
Que les feux de la nuit avoient fait devant vous.”
From a vast collection of Italian sonnets on the same subject, I select
one by Annibal Caro, the celebrated translator of Virgil—
“Eran l’aer tranquillo, e l’onde chiare,
Sospirava Favonio, e fuggia Clori,
L’alma Ciprigna innanzi ai primi albori
Ridendo empia d’amor la terra e ’l mare.
“La rugiadosa Aurora in ciel più rare
Facea le stelle; e di più bei colori
Sparse le nubi, e i monti; uscia già fuori
Febo, qual più lucente in Delfo appare.
“Quando altra Aurora un più vezzoso ostello
Aperse, e lampeggiò sereno, e puro
Il Sol, che sol m’abbaglia, e mi disface.
“Volsimi, e ’n contro a lei mi parve oscuro,
(Santi lumi del ciel, con vostra pace)
L’Oriente, che dianzi era si bello.”
Licinius Calvus was equally distinguished as an orator and a poet. In the
former capacity he is mentioned with distinction by Cicero; but it was
probably his poetical talents that procured for him the friendship of
Catullus, who has addressed to him two Odes, in which he is commemorated
as a most delightful companion, from whose society he could scarcely
refrain. Calvus was violently enamoured of a girl called Quintilia, whose
early death he lamented in a number of verses, none of which have
descended to us. There only remain, an epigram against Pompey, satirizing
his practice of scratching his head with one finger, and a fragment of
another against Julius Cæsar(523). The sarcasm it contains would not have
been pardonable in the present age; but the dictator, hearing that Calvus
had repented of his petulance, and was desirous of a reconciliation,
addressed a letter to him, with assurances of unaltered friendship(524).
The fragments of his epigrams which remain, do not enable us to judge for
ourselves of his poetical merits. He is classed by Ovid among the
licentious writers(525); but he is generally mentioned along with
Catullus, which shows that he was not considered as greatly inferior to
his friend—
“Nil præter Calvum et doctus cantare Catullum.”
Pliny, in one of his letters, talking of his friend Pompeius Saturnius,
mentions, that he had composed several poetical pieces in the manner of
Calvus and Catullus(526); and Augurinus, as quoted by Pliny in another of
his epistles, says,