being left to form his own reflections on the deeds or events recorded.
The historic art, however, conveys not complete satisfaction, unless these
actions be connected with their causes,—the political springs, or private
passions, in which they originated. It is the business, therefore, of the
historian, to apply the conclusions of the politician in explaining the
causes and effects of the transactions he relates. These transactions the
author must receive from authentic monuments or records, but the remarks
deduced from them must be the offspring of his own ingenuity. The
reflections with which Sallust introduces his narrative, and those he
draws from it, are so just and numerous that he has by some been
considered as the father of philosophic history. It must always, however,
be remembered, that the proper object of history is the detail of national
transactions,—that whatever forms not a part of the narrative is
episodical, and therefore improper, if it be too long, and do not grow
naturally out of the subject. Now, some of the political and moral
digressions of Sallust are neither very immediately connected with his
subject, nor very obviously suggested by the narration. The discursive
nature and inordinate length of the introductions to his histories have
been strongly censured. The first four sections of Catiline’s conspiracy
have indeed little relation to that topic. They might as well have been
prefixed to any other history, and much better to a moral or philosophic
treatise. In fact, a considerable part of them, descanting on the fleeting
nature of wealth and beauty, and all such adventitious or transitory
possessions, is borrowed from the second oration of Isocrates. Perhaps the
eight following sections are also disproportioned to the length of the
whole work; but the preliminary essay they contain, on the degradation of
Roman manners and decline of virtue, is not an unsuitable introduction to
the conspiracy, as it was this corruption of morals which gave birth to
it, and bestowed on it a chance of success. The preface to the Jugurthine
War has much less relation to the subject which it is intended to
introduce. The author discourses at large on his favourite topics the
superiority of mental endowments over corporeal advantages, and the beauty
of virtue and genius. He contrasts a life of listless indolence with one
of honourable activity; and, finally, descants on the task of the
historian as a suitable exercise for the highest faculties of the mind.
Besides the conspiracy of Catiline and the Jugurthine War, which have been
preserved entire, and from which our estimate of the merits of Sallust
must be chiefly formed, he was author of a civil and military history of
the republic, in five books, entitled, _Historia rerum in Republica Romana
Gestarum_. This work, inscribed to Lucullus, the son of the celebrated
commander of that name, was the mature fruit of the genius of Sallust,
having been the last history he composed. It included, properly speaking,
only a period of thirteen years,—extending from the resignation of the
dictatorship by Sylla, till the promulgation of the Manilian law, by which
Pompey was invested with authority equal to that which Sylla had
relinquished, and obtained, with unlimited power in the east, the command
of the army destined to act against Mithridates. This period, though
short, comprehends some of the most interesting and luminous points which
appear in the Roman Annals. During this interval, and almost at the same
moment, the republic was attacked in the east by the most powerful and
enterprizing of the monarchs with whom it had yet waged war; in the west,
by one of the most skilful of its own generals; and in the bosom of Italy,
by its gladiators and slaves. This work also was introduced by two
discourses—the one presenting a picture of the government and manners of
the Romans, from the origin of their city to the commencement of the civil
wars, the other containing a general view of the dissensions of Marius and
Sylla; so that the whole book may be considered as connecting the
termination of the Jugurthine war, and the breaking out of Catiline’s
conspiracy. The loss of this valuable production is the more to be
regretted, as all the accounts of Roman history which have been written,
are defective during the interesting period it comprehended. Nearly 700
fragments belonging to it have been amassed, from scholiasts and
grammarians, by De Brosses, the French translator of Sallust; but they are
so short and unconnected, that they merely serve as land-marks, from which
we may conjecture what subjects were treated of, and what events were
recorded. The only parts of the history which have been preserved in any
degree entire, are four orations and two letters. Pomponius Lætus
discovered the orations in a MS. of the Vatican, containing a collection
of speeches from Roman history. The first is an oration pronounced against
Sylla by the turbulent Marcus Æmilius Lepidus; who, (as is well known,)
being desirous, at the expiration of his year, to be appointed a second
time Consul, excited, for that purpose, a civil war, and rendered himself
master of a great part of Italy. His speech which was preparatory to these
designs, was delivered after Sylla had abdicated the dictatorship, but was
still supposed to retain great influence at Rome. He is accordingly
treated as being still the tyrant of the state; and the people are
exhorted to throw off the yoke completely, and to follow the speaker to
the bold assertion of their liberties. The second oration, which is that
of Lucius Philippus, is an invective against the treasonable attempt of
Lepidus, and was calculated to rouse the people from the apathy with which
they beheld proceedings that were likely to terminate in the total
subversion of the government. The third harangue was delivered by the
Tribune Licinius: It was an effort of that demagogue to depress the
patrician, and raise the tribunitial power, for which purpose he
alternately flatters the people, and reviles the Senate. The oration of
Marcus Cotta is unquestionably a fine one. He addressed it to the people,
during the period of his Consulship, in order to calm their minds, and
allay their resentment at the bad success of public affairs, which,
without any blame on his part, had lately, in many respects, been
conducted to an unprosperous issue. Of the two letters which are extant,
the one is from Pompey to the Senate, complaining, in very strong terms,
of the deficiency in the supplies for the army which he commanded in Spain
against Sertorius; the other is feigned to be addressed from Mithridates
to Arsaces, King of Parthia, and to be written when the affairs of the
former monarch were proceeding unsuccessfully. It exhorts him,
nevertheless, with great eloquence and power of argument, to join him in
an alliance against the Romans: for this purpose, it places in a strong
point of view their unprincipled policy, and ambitious desire of universal
empire—all which could not, without this device of an imaginary letter by
a foe, have been so well urged by a national historian. It concludes with
showing the extreme danger which the Parthians would incur from the
hostility of the Romans, should they succeed in finally subjugating Pontus
and Armenia. The only other fragment, of any length, is the description of
a splendid entertainment given to Metellus, on his return, after a year’s
absence, to his government of Farther Spain. It appears, from several
other fragments, that Sallust had introduced, on occasion of the
Mithridatic war, a geographical account of the shores and countries
bordering on the Euxine, in the same manner as he enters into a
topographical description of Africa, in his history of the Jugurthine war.
This part of his work has been much applauded by ancient writers for
exactness and liveliness; and is frequently referred to, as the highest
authority, by Strabo, Pomponius Mela, and other geographers.
Besides his historical works, there exist two political discourses,
concerning the administration of the government, in the form of letters to
Julius Cæsar, which have generally, though not on sufficient grounds, been
attributed to the pen of Sallust(195).
As Sallust has obviously imitated, and, in fact, resembles Thucydides, so
has
JULIUS CÆSAR,
in his historical works, been compared to Xenophon, the first memoir
writer among the Greeks. Simplicity is the characteristic of both, but
Xenophon has more rhetorical flow and sweetness of style, and he is
sometimes, I think, a little mawkish; while the simplicity of Cæsar, on
the other hand, borders, perhaps, on severity. Cæsar, too, though often
circumstantial, is never diffuse, while Xenophon is frequently prolix,
without being minute or accurate. “In the Latin work,” says Young, in his
_History of Athens_, “we have the commentaries of a general vested with
supreme command, and who felt no anxiety about the conduct or obedience of
his army—in the Greek, we possess the journal of an officer in subordinate
rank, though of high estimation. Hence the speeches of the one are replete
with imperatorial dignity, those of the other are delivered with the
conciliatory arts of argument and condescension. Hence, too, the mind of
Xenophon was absorbed in the care and discipline of those under his
command; but thence we are better acquainted with the Greek army than with
that of Cæsar. Cæsar’s attention was ever directed to those he was to
attack, to counteract, or to oppose—Xenophon’s to those he was to conduct.
For the same reason, Xenophon is superficial with respect to any
peculiarities of the nations he passed through; while in Cæsar we have a
curious, and well authenticated detail, relative to the Gauls, the
Britons, and every other enemy. The comparison, however, holds in this,
that Cæsar, like Xenophon, was properly a writer of Memoirs. Like him, he
aimed at nothing farther than communicating facts in a plain familiar
manner; and the account of his campaign was only drawn up as materials for
future history, not having leisure to bestow that ornament and dress which
history requires.” In the opinion of his contemporaries, however, and all
subsequent critics, he has rendered desperate any attempt to write the
history of the wars of which he treats. “Dum voluit,” says Cicero, “alios
habere parata, unde sumerent, qui vellent scribere historiam, sanos quidem
homines a scribendo deterruit.” A similar opinion is given by his
continuator Hirtius,—“Adeo probantur omnium judicio ut prærepta, non
præbita, facultas scriptoribus videatur.”
Cæsar’s Commentaries consist of seven books of the Gallic, and three of
the civil wars. Some critics, however, particularly Floridus Sabinus(196),
deny that he was the author of the books on the latter war, while Carrio
and Ludovicus Caduceus doubt of his being the author even of the Gallic
war,—the last of these critics attributing the work to Suetonius.
Hardouin, who believed that most of the works now termed classical, were
forgeries of the monks in the thirteenth century, also tried to persuade
the world, that the whole account of the Gallic campaigns was a fiction,
and that Cæsar had never drawn a sword in Gaul in his life. The testimony,
however, of Cicero and Hirtius, who were contemporary with Cæsar,—of many
authentic writers, who lived after him, as Suetonius, Strabo, and
Plutarch,—and of all the old grammarians, must be considered as settling
the question; for if such evidence is not implicitly trusted, there seems
to be an end of all reliance on ancient authority.
Though these Commentaries comprehend but a small extent of time, and are
not the general history of a nation, they embrace events of the highest
importance, and they detail, perhaps, the greatest military operations to
be found in ancient story. We see in them all that is great and consummate
in the art of war. The ablest commander of the most martial people on the
globe records the history of his own campaigns. Placed at the head of the
finest army ever formed in the world, and one devoted to his fortunes, but
opposed by military skill and prowess only second to its own, he, and the
soldiers he commanded, may be almost extolled in the words in which Nestor
praised the heroes who had gone before him:—
“Καρτισοι δη κεινοι ἐπιχθονιων τραφεν ανδρων,
Καρτισοι μεν ἐσαν και καρτισοις ἐμαχοντο,” ——
for the Gauls and Germans were among the bravest and most warlike nations
then on earth, and Pompey was accounted the most consummate general of his
age. No commander, it is universally admitted, ever had such knowledge of
the mechanical part of war: He possessed the complete empire of the sea,
and was aided by all the influence derived from the constituted authority
of the state.
Perhaps the most interesting part of the whole Commentaries, is the
account of the campaign in Spain against Afranius and Petreius, in which
Cæsar, being reduced to extremities for want of provisions and forage, (in
consequence of the bridges over the rivers, between which he had encamped,
being broken down,) extricated himself from this situation, after a
variety of skilful manœuvres, and having pursued Pompey’s generals into
Celtiberia, and back again to Lerida, forced their legions to surrender,
by placing them in those very difficulties from which he had so ably
relieved his own army.
It is obvious that the greater part of such Commentaries must be
necessarily occupied with the detail of warlike operations. The military
genius of Rome breathes through the whole work, and it comprehends all the
varieties which warfare offers to our interest, and perhaps, undue
admiration—pitched battles, affairs of posts, encampments, retreats,
marches in face of the foe through woods and over plains or mountains,
passages of rivers, sieges, defence of forts, and those still more
interesting accounts of the spirit and discipline of the enemies’ troops,
and the talents of their generals. In his clear and scientific details of
military operations, Cæsar is reckoned superior to every writer, except,
perhaps, Polybius. Some persons have thought he was too minute, and that,
by describing every evolution performed in a battle, he has rendered his
relations somewhat crowded. But this was his principle, and it served the
design of the author.
As he records almost nothing at which he was not personally present, or
heard of from those acting under his immediate directions, he possessed
the best information with regard to everything of which he wrote(197). In
general, when he speaks of himself, it is without affectation or
arrogance. He talks of Cæsar as of an indifferent person, and always
maintains the character which he has thus assumed; indeed, it can hardly
be conceived that he had so small a share in the great actions he
describes, as appears from his own representations. With exception of the
false colours with which he disguises his ambitious projects against the
liberties of his country, everything seems to be told with fidelity and
candour. Nor is there any very unfair concealment of the losses he may
have sustained: he ingenuously acknowledges his own disaster in the affair
at Dyracchium; he admits the loss of 960 men, and the complete frustration
of his whole plan for the campaign. When he relates his successes, on the
other hand, it is with moderation. There is the utmost caution, reserve,
and modesty, in his account of the battle of Pharsalia; and one would
hardly conceive that the historian had any share in the action or victory.
He in general acknowledges, that the events of war are beyond human
control, and ascribes the largest share of success to the power of
fortune. The rest he seems willing to attribute to the valour of his
soldiers, and the good conduct of his military associates. Thus he gives
the chief credit and glory of the great victory over Ariovistus to the
presence of mind displayed by Crassus, who promptly made the signal to a
body of men to advance and support one of the wings which was overpowered
by the multitude of the enemy, and was beginning to give way. He does not
even omit to do justice to the distinguished and generous valour of the
two centurions, Pulfio and Varenus, or of the centurion Sextius Baculus,
during the alarming attack by the Sicambri. On the other hand, when he has
occasion to mention the failure of his friends, as in relating Curio’s
defeat and death in Africa, he does it with tenderness and indulgence. Of
his enemies, he speaks without insult or contempt; and even in giving his
judgment upon a great military question, though he disapproves Pompey’s
mode of waiting for the attack at Pharsalia, his own reasons for a
contrary opinion are urged with deference and candour. The confident hopes
which were entertained in Pompey’s camp—the pretensions and disputes of
the leading senators, about the division of patronage and officers, and
the confiscations which were supposed to be just falling within their
grasp, furnished him with some amusing anecdotes, which it must have been
difficult to resist inserting; nor can we wonder, that while all the
preparations for celebrating the anticipated victory with luxury and
festivity, were matters of ocular observation, he should have devoted some
few passages in his Commentaries, to recording the vanity and presumption
of such fond expectations. Labienus, who had deserted him, and Scipio, who
gave him so much trouble, by rekindling the war, are those of whom he
speaks with the greatest rancour, in relating the cruelty of the former,
and the tyrannical ingenious rapacity of the latter(198).
Whatever concerns the events of the civil war could not easily have been
falsified or misrepresented. So many enemies, who had been eye-witnesses
of everything, survived that period, that the author could scarcely have
swerved from the truth without detection. But in his contests with the
Gauls, and Germans, and Britons, there was no one to contradict him. Those
who accompanied him were devoted to his fame and fortunes, and interested
like himself in exalting the glory of these foreign exploits. That he has
varnished over the real motives, and also the issue, of his expedition to
Britain has been frequently suspected. The reason he himself assigns for
the undertaking is, that he understood supplies had been thence furnished
to the enemy, in almost all the Gallic wars; but Suetonius asserts, that
the information he had received of the quantity and size of the pearls on
the British coast, was his real inducement. Fourteen short chapters in the
fourth book of the Gallic war, relate his first visit, and his hasty
return; and sixteen in the fifth, detail his progress in the following
summer. These chapters have derived importance from containing the
earliest authentic memorials of the inhabitants and state of this island;
and there has, of course, been much discussion on the genuine though
imperfect notices they afford. Various tracts, chiefly published in the
_Archæologia_, have topographically followed the various steps of Cæsar’s
progress, particularly his passage across the Thames, and have debated the
situation of the Portus Iccius, from which he embarked for Britain.
Cæsar’s occasional digressions concerning the manners of the Gauls and
Germans, are also highly interesting and instructive, and are the only
accounts to be at all depended on with regard to the institutions and
customs of these two great nations, at that remote period. In Gaul he had
remained so long, and had so thoroughly studied the habits and customs of
its people for his own political purposes, that whatever is delivered
concerning that country, may be confidently relied on. His intercourse
with the German tribes was occasional, and chiefly of a military
description. Some of his observations on their manners—as their
hospitality, the continence of their youth, and the successive occupation
of different lands by the same families—are confirmed by Tacitus; but in
other particulars, especially in what relates to their religion, he is
contradicted by that great historian. Cæsar declares that they have no
sacrifices, and know no gods, but those, like the Sun or Moon, which are
visible, and whose benefits they enjoy(199). Tacitus informs us, that
their chief god is Mercury, whom they appease by human victims; that they
also sacrifice animals to Hercules and Mars; and adore that Secret
Intelligence, which is only seen in the eye of mental veneration(200). The
researches of modern writers have also thrown some doubts on the accuracy
of Cæsar’s German topography; and Cluverius, in particular, has attempted
to show, that he has committed many errors in speaking both of the Germans
and Batavians(201).
As the Commentaries of Cæsar do not pretend to the elaborate dignity of
history, the author can scarcely be blamed if he has detailed his facts
without mingling many reflections or observations. He seldom inserts a
political or characteristic remark, though he had frequent opportunities
for both, in describing such singular people as the Gauls, Germans, and
Britons. But his object was not, like Sallust or Tacitus, to deduce
practical reflections for the benefit of his reader, or to explain the
political springs of the transactions he relates. His simple narrative was
merely intended for the gratification of those Roman citizens, whom he had
already persuaded to favour his ambitious projects; yet even they, I
think, might have wished to have heard something more of what may be
called the military motives of his actions. He tells us of his marches,
retreats, and encampments, but seldom sufficiently explains the grounds on
which these warlike measures were undertaken—how they advanced his own
plans, or frustrated the designs of the enemy. More insight into the
military views by which he was prompted, would have given additional
interest and animation to his narrative, and afforded ampler lessons of
instruction.
No person, I presume, wishes to be told, for the twentieth time, that the
style of Cæsar is remarkable for clearness and ease, and a simplicity more
truly noble than the pomp of words. Perhaps the most distinguishing
characteristic of his style, is its perfect equality of expression. There
was, in the mind of Cæsar, a serene and even dignity. In temper, nothing
appeared to agitate or move him—in conduct, nothing diverted him from the
attainment of his end. In like manner, in his style, there is nothing
swelling or depressed, and not one word occurs which is chosen for the
mere purpose of embellishment. The opinion of Cicero, who compared the
style of Cæsar to the unadorned simplicity of an ancient Greek statue, may
be considered as the highest praise, since he certainly entertained no
favourable feelings towards the author; and the style was very different
from that which he himself employed in his harangues, or philosophical
works, or even in his correspondence. “Nudi sunt,” says he, “recti, et
venusti, omni ornatu orationis tanquam veste detracto.” This exquisite
purity was not insensibly obtained, as the Lælian and Mucian Families are
said to have acquired it, by domestic habit and familiar conversation, but
by assiduous study and thorough knowledge of the Latin language(202), and
the practice of literary composition, to which Cæsar had been accustomed
from his earliest youth(203).
But, however admirable for its purity and elegance, the style of Cæsar
seems to be somewhat deficient, both in vivacity and vigour. Walchius,
too, has pointed out a few words, which he considers not of pure Latinity,
as _ambactus_, a term employed by the Gauls and Germans to signify a
servant—also _Ancorarii_ funes, a word nowhere else used as an
adjective—_Antemittere_ for _premittere_, and _summo magistratu præiverat_
for _magistratui_(204). The use of such words as _collabefieret_,
_contabulatio_, _detrimentosum_, _explicitius_, _materiari_, would lead us
to suspect that Cæsar had not _always_ attended to the rule which he so
strongly laid down in his book, _De Analogia_, to avoid, as a rock, every
unusual word or expression. Bergerus, in an immense quarto, entitled _De
Naturali pulchritudine Orationis_ has at great length attempted to show
that Cæsar had anticipated all the precepts subsequently delivered by
Longinus, for reaching the utmost excellence and dignity of composition.
He points out his conformity to these rules, in what he conceives to be
the abridgments, amplifications, transitions, gradations,—in short, all
the various figures and ornaments of speech, which could be employed by
the most pedantic rhetorician; and he also critically examines those few
words and phrases of questionable purity, which are so thinly scattered
through the Commentaries.
Mankind usually judge of a literary composition by its intrinsic merit,
without taking into consideration the age of the author, the celerity with
which it was composed, or the various circumstances under which it was
written; and in this, perhaps, they act not unjustly, since their business
is with the work, and not with the qualities of the author. But were such
things to be taken into view, it should be remembered, that these Memoirs
were hastily drawn up during the tumult and anxiety of campaigns, and were
jotted down from day to day, without care or premeditation. “Ceteri,” says
Hirtius, the companion of Cæsar’s expeditions, and the continuator of his
Commentaries,—“Ceteri quam bene atque emendate; nos etiam quam facile
atque celeriter eos perscripserit scimus.”