CHAPTER I.

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A HISTORY

OF

ROMAN CLASSICAL

LITERATURE.

BY

R. W. BROWNE, M.A., PH.D.,

PREBENDARY OF ST. PAUL’S, AND PROFESSOR OF CLASSICAL LITERATURE IN

KING’S COLLEGE, LONDON.

Meum semper judicium fuit, omnia nostros aut invenisse per se sapientius

quam Græcos; aut accepta ab illis fecisse meliora, quæ quidem digne

statuissent in quibus elaborarent.

Cic. _Tusc. Disp._ I.

PHILADELPHIA:

BLANCHARD AND LEA.

1853.

WM. S. YOUNG, PRINTER.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

PREFACE.

The history of Roman Classical Literature, although it comprehends the

names of many illustrious writers and many voluminous works, is,

chronologically speaking, contained within narrow limits. Dating from

its earliest infancy, until the epoch when it ceased to deserve the

title of classical, its existence occupies a period of less than four

centuries.

The imperial city had been founded for upwards of five hundred years

without exhibiting more than those rudest germs of literary taste which

are common to the most uncivilized nations, without producing a single

author either in poetry or prose.

The Roman mind, naturally vigorous and active, was still uncultivated,

when, about two centuries and a half before the Christian era,[1]

conquest made the inhabitants of the capital acquainted, for the first

time, with Greek science, art, and literature; and the last rays of

classic taste and learning ceased to illumine the Roman world before the

accession of the Antonines.[2]

Such a history, however, must be introduced by a reference to times of

much higher antiquity. The language itself must be examined

historically, that is, its progress and its formation from its primitive

elements, must be traced with reference to the influences exercised upon

it from without by the natives who spoke the dialects out of which it

was composed; and the earliest indications of a taste for poetry, and a

desire to cultivate the intellectual powers, must be marked and followed

out in their successive stages of development. In this investigation, it

will be seen how great the difficulties were with which literary men had

to struggle under the Republic—difficulties principally arising from the

physical activity of the people, and the practical character of the

Roman mind, which led the majority to undervalue and despise devotion to

sedentary and contemplative pursuits.

The Roman, in the olden times, had a high and self-denying sense of

duty—he was ambitious, but his ambition was for the glory, not of

himself, but his country; he thus lived for conquest: his motive,

however, was not self-aggrandizement but the extension of the domination

of Rome. When the state came to be merged in the individual, generals

and statesmen sought to heap up wealth and to acquire power; but it was

not so in the Republican times. Owing to these characteristic features,

the Roman citizen conceived it to be his duty to devote his energies to

the public service: he concentrated all his powers, mental and bodily,

upon war and politics; he despised all other occupations and sources of

fame; for he was conscious that his country owed her position amongst

nations to her military prowess, and her liberties at home to the wise

administration of her constitution.

Hence it will be seen, that there never was a period in which literature

did not require to be fostered and protected by the patronage of the

wealthy and powerful. Even tragedy never captivated the feelings or

acquired an influence over the minds of the people at large as it did in

Greece; it degenerated into mere recitations in a dramatic form,

addressed like any other poetry to a _coterie_. Comedy formed the only

exception to this rule. It was the only species of literature which the

masses thoroughly enjoyed. Learning was a sickly plant: patronage was

the artificial heat which brought it to maturity. Accius was patronized

by D. Brutus; Ennius by Lucilius and the Scipios; Terence by Africanus

and Lælius; Lucretius by the Memmii; Tibullus by Messala; Propertius by

Ælius Gallus; Virgil and his friends by Augustus, Mæcenas, and Pollio;

Martial and Quintilian by Domitian.

As the conquest of Magna Græcia, Sicily, and, finally, of Greece itself,

first directed to the pursuit of intellectual cultivation a people whose

national literature, even if it deserved to be so called, was of the

rudest and most meager description, Roman literature was, as might be

expected, the offspring of the Greek, and its beauties a reflexion of

the Greek mind; and although some portions were more original than

others, as being more congenial to the national character—such, for

example, as satire, oratory, and history—it was, upon the whole, never

anything more than an imitation. It had, therefore, all the faults of an

imitation. As in painting, those that study the old masters, and neglect

nature, are nothing more than copyists, however high the finish and

elaborate the polish of their works may be; so in the literature of

Rome, we are delighted with the execution, and charmed with the genius,

wit, and ingenuity, but we seek in vain for the enthusiasm and

inspiration which breathes in every part of the original.

One faculty of the greatest importance to literary eminence was

possessed by the Romans in the highest perfection, because it may be

acquired as well as innate, and is always improved and polished by

education: that faculty is taste—the ability, as Addison defines it, to

discern the beauties of an author with pleasure, and his imperfections

with dislike.

Of the three periods into which this history is divided, the first may

be considered as _dramatic_. Eloquence, indeed, made rapid strides, and

C. Gracchus may be considered as the father of Latin prose; but the

language was not sufficiently smoothed and polished; the sentiments of

the orator were far superior to the diction in which they were conveyed.

Jurisprudence also was studied with thoughtfulness and accuracy;

history, however, was nothing more than annals, and epic poetry rugged

and monotonous. But the acting tragedy of the Romans is almost

exclusively confined to this period; and the comedies of Plautus and

Terence were then written, which have survived to command the admiration

of modern times. Although, at this epoch, the language was elaborately

polished and embellished with the utmost variety of graceful forms and

expressions, it was simple and unconstrained: it flowed easily and

naturally, and was therefore full and copious; brevity and epigrammatic

terseness are acquired qualities, and the result of art, although that

art may be skilfully concealed.

The second period consists of two subdivisions, of which the first was

the era of _prose_, and, consequently, the period at which the language

attained its greatest perfection; for the structure, power, and genius

of a language must be judged of by its prose, and not by its poetry.

Cicero is the representative of this era as an orator and

philosopher—Cæsar and Sallust as historians. The second subdivision, or

the Augustan age, is the era of poetry, for in it poetry arrived at the

same eminence which prose had attained in the preceding generation. But

the age of Cicero and that of Augustus can only be made subdivisions of

one great period; they are not separated from each other by a strong

line of demarkation; they are blended together, and gradually melt into

one another. In the former, Lucretius and Catullus were the harbingers

of Virgil, Horace, and Ovid; and, in the latter, the sun of Cicero,

Cæsar, and Sallust, seems to set in the sweet narrative of Livy.

The last period is _rhetorical_: it has been called “the silver age.” It

produced Rome’s only fabulist, Phædrus; the greatest satirist, Juvenal;

the wittiest epigrammatist, Martial; the most philosophical historian,

Tacitus; the most judicious critic, Quintilian; and a letter-writer,

scarcely inferior to Cicero himself, the younger Pliny; and yet,

notwithstanding these illustrious names, this is the period of the

decline. These great names shed a lustre over their generation; but they

did not influence their taste or arrest the approaching decay of the

national genius: causes were at work which were rapidly producing this

effect, and they were beyond their control. A new and false standard of

taste was now set up, which was inconsistent with original genius and

independent thought. Rome was persuaded, to accept a declamatory

rhetoric as a substitute for that fervid eloquence in which she had

delighted, and which was now deprived of its use, and was driven from

the Forum to the lecture-room. This taste infected every species of

composition. Seneca abused his fine talents to teach men to admire

nothing so much as glitter, novelty, and affectation; and, at length,

all became constrained, hollow, and artificial. With the national

liberty, the national intellect lapsed into a state of inactivity: a

period of intellectual darkness succeeded, the influence which the

capital had lost was taken up by the provinces, and thus the way was

paved for the inroad of barbarism.

Such is the outline of this work; and if the reader finds some features,

which he considers of great importance, rapidly touched upon, the extent

of the subject, and the wish to compress it within a moderate compass,

must be offered as the author’s apology. In conclusion, the author

acknowledges his deep obligations to those historians and biographers

whose works he has consulted during the composition of this history. He

feels that it would have been presumptuous to offer such a work to the

public without having profited by the laborious investigations of Wolf,

Bayle, Hermann, Grotefend, Bernhardy, Bähr, Schlegel, Lachmann, Dunlop,

Matthiæ, Schoell, Krause, Ritter, Nisard, Pierron, Niebuhr, Milman,

Arnold, Merivale, Donaldson, Smith, and the authors of the “Biographie

Universelle.”

CONTENTS.

BOOK I.

FIRST ERA.

CHAPTER I.

PAGE.

Comparison of the Latin language with the Greek—Eras of

Latinity—Origin of the Romans—Elements of the Latin

language—Etruscan influence 33

CHAPTER II.

The Eugubine Tables—Existence of Oscan in Italy—Bantine

Table—Perugian Inscription—Etruscan Alphabet and Words—Chant of

Fratres Arvales—Salian Hymn—Other Monuments of Old Latin—Latin

and Greek Alphabets compared 44

CHAPTER III.

Saturnian Metre—Opinions respecting its origin—Early examples of

this Metre—Saturnian Ballads in Livy—Structure of the

Verse—Instances of Rhythmical Poetry 60

CHAPTER IV.

Three periods of Roman Classical Literature—Its Elements

rude—Roman Religion—Etruscan influence—Early Historical

Monuments—Fescennine Verses—Fabulæ Atellanæ—Introduction of

Stage-Players—Derivation of Satire 67

CHAPTER V.

Emancipation of Livius Andronicus—His imitation of the

Odyssey—New kind of Scenic Exhibitions—First exhibition of his

Dramas—Nævius a Political Partisan—His bitterness—His Punic

War—His nationality—His versification 76

CHAPTER VI.

Nævius stood between two Ages—Life of Ennius—Epitaphs written by

him—His taste, learning, and character—His fitness for being a

Literary Reformer—His influence on the language—His

versification—The Annals—Difficulties of the Subject—Tragedies

and Comedies—Satire—Minor Works 90

CHAPTER VII.

The New Comedy of the Greeks the Model of the Roman—The Morality

of Roman Comedy—Want of variety in the Plots of Roman

Comedy—Dramatis Personæ—Costume—Characters—Music—Latin

Pronunciation—Metrical Licenses—Criticism of Volcatius—Life of

Plautus—Character of his Comedies—Analysis of his Plots 99

CHAPTER VII.

Statius compared with Menander—Criticism of Cicero—Hypotheses

respecting the early life of Terence—Anecdote related by

Donatus—Style and Morality of Terence—Anecdote of him related

by Cornelius Nepos—His pecuniary circumstances and death—Plots

and Criticism of his Comedies—The remaining Comic Poets 118

CHAPTER VIII.

Why Tragedy did not flourish at Rome—National Legends not

influential with the People—Fabulæ Prætextatæ—Roman Religion

not ideal—Roman love for Scenes of Real Action and Gorgeous

Spectacle—Tragedy not patronised by the People—Pacuvius—His

Dulorestes and Paulus 140

CHAPTER IX.

L. Attius—His Tragedies and Fragments—Other Works—Tragedy

disappeared with him—Roman Theatres—Traces of the Satiric

Spirit in Greece—Roman Satire—Lucilius—Criticisms of Horace,

Cicero, and Quintilian—Passage quoted by Lactantius—Lævius a

Lyric Poet 152

CHAPTER X.

Prose Literature—Prose suitable to Roman Genius—History,

Jurisprudence, and Oratory—Prevalence of Greek—Q. Fabius

Pictor—L. Cincius Alimentus—C. Acilius Glabrio—Value of the

Annalists—Important literary period, during which Cato Censors

flourished—Sketch of his Life—His character, genius, and style 162

CHAPTER XI.

The Origines of Cato—Passage quoted by Gellius—Treatise De Re

Rustica—Orations—L. Cassius Hemina—Historians in the Days of

the Gracchi—Traditional Anecdote of

Romulus—Autobiographers—Fragment of Quadrigarius—Falsehoods of

Antias—Sisenna—Tubero 176

CHAPTER XII.

Early Roman Oratory—Eloquence of Appius Claudius Cæcus—Funeral

Orations—Defence of Scipio Africanus Major—Scipio Africanus

Minor Æmilianus—Era of the Gracchi—Their Characters—Interval

between the Gracchi and Cicero—M. Antonius—L. Licinius

Crassus—Q. Hortensius—Causes of his early popularity and

subsequent failure 187

CHAPTER XIII.

Study of Jurisprudence—Earliest Systematic Works on Roman

Law—Groundwork of the Roman Civil Law—Eminent Jurists—The

Scævolæ—Ælius Gallus—C. Aquilius Gallus, a Law Reformer—Other

Jurists—Grammarians 204

BOOK II.

THE ERA OF CICERO AND AUGUSTUS.

CHAPTER I.

Prose the Test of the condition of a Language—Dramatic Literature

extinct—Mimes—Difference between Roman and Greek

Mimes—Laberius—Passages from his Poetry—Matius

Calvena—Mimiambi—Publius Syrus—Roman Pantomime—Its

licentiousness—Principal actors of Pantomime 211

CHAPTER II.

Lucretius a Poet rather than a Philosopher—His Life—Epic

structure of his Poem—Variety of his Poetry—Extracts from his

Poem—Argument of it—The Epicurean Doctrines contained in

it—Morality of Epicurus and Lucretius—Testimonies of Virgil and

Ovid—Catullus, his Life, Character, and Poetry—Other Poets of

this period 220

CHAPTER III.

Age of Virgil favourable to Poetry—His birth, education, habits,

illness, and death—His popularity and character—His minor

Poems, the Culex, Ciris, Moretum, Copa, and Catalecta—His

Bucolics—Italian manners not suited to Pastoral Poetry—Idylls

of Theocritus—Classification of the Bucolics—Subject of the

Pollio—Heyne’s theory respecting it 238

CHAPTER IV.

Beauty of Didactic Poetry—Elaborate finish of the Georgics—Roman

love of Rural Pursuits—Hesiod suitable as a Model—Condition of

Italy—Subjects treated of in the Georgics—Some striking

passages enumerated—Influence of Roman Literature on English

Poetry—Sources from which the incidents of the Æneid are

derived—Character of Æneas—Criticism of Niebuhr 252

CHAPTER V.

The Libertini—Roman feelings as to Commerce—Birth and infancy of

Horace—His early education at Rome—His Military career—He

returns to Rome—Is introduced to Mæcenas—Commences the

Satires—Mæcenas gives him his Sabine Farm—His country life—The

Epodes—Epistles—Carmen Seculare—Illness and death 264

CHAPTER VI.

Character of Horace—Descriptions of his Villa at Tivoli, and his

Sabine Farm—Site of the Bandusian Fountain—The neighbouring

Scenery—Subjects of his Satires and Epistles—Beauty of his

Odes—Imitations of Greek Poets—Spurious Odes—Chronological

Arrangement 278

CHAPTER VII.

Biography of Mæcenas—His intimacy and influence with Augustus—His

character—Valgius Rufus—Varius—Cornelius Gallus—Biography of

Tibullus—His style—Criticism of Muretus—Propertius—Imitated the

Alexandrian Poets—Æmilius Macer 295

CHAPTER VIII.

Birth and education of Ovid—His rhetorical powers—Anecdote

related by Seneca—His poetical genius—Self-indulgent

life—Popularity—Banishment—Place of his Exile—Epistles and

other Works—Gratius Faliscus—Pedo Albinovanus—Aulus

Sabinus—Marcus Manilius 307

CHAPTER IX.

Prose Writers—Influence of Cicero upon the Language—His converse

with his Friends—His early Life—Pleads his first Cause—Is

Quæstor, Ædile, Prætor, and Consul—His exile, return, and

provincial Administration—His vacillating conduct—He delivers

his Philippics—Is proscribed and assassinated—His character 320

CHAPTER X.

Cicero no Historian—His Oratorical style defended—Its principal

charm—Observations on his forensic Orations—His Oratory

essentially judicial—Political Orations—Rhetorical

Treatises—The object of his Philosophical Works—Characteristics

of Roman Philosophical Literature—Philosophy of Cicero—His

Political Works—Letters—His Correspondents—Varro 332

CHAPTER XI.

Roman Historical Literature—Principal

Historians—Lucceius—Lucullus—Cornelius Nepos—Opinions of the

genuineness of the Works which bear his Name—Biography of J.

Cæsar—His Commentaries—Their style and language—His modesty

overrated—Other Works—Character of Cæsar 355

CHAPTER XII.

Life of Sallust—His insincerity—His Historical Works—He was a

bitter opponent of the New Aristocracy—Profligacy of that

Order—His style compared with that of Thucydides—His value as

an Historian—Trogus Pompeius—His Historiæ Philippicæ 369

CHAPTER XIII.

Life of Livy—His object in writing his History—Its spirit and

character—Livy precisely suited to his Age—Not wilfully

inaccurate—His political bias accounted for—Materials which he

might have used—Sources of History—His defects as an

Historian—His style—Grammarians—Vitruvius Pollio, an Augustine

Writer—Contents of his Work 377

BOOK III.

ERA OF THE DECLINE.

CHAPTER I.

Decline of Roman Literature—It became declamatory—Biography of

Phædrus—Genuineness of his Fables—Moral and Political Lessons

inculcated in them—Specimens of Fables—Fables suggested by

Historical events—Sejanus and Tiberius—Epoch unfavourable to

Literature—Ingenuity of Phædrus—Superiority of Æsop—The style

of Phædrus classical 390

CHAPTER II.

Dramatic Literature in the Augustan Age—Revival under

Nero—Defects of the Tragedies attributed to Seneca—Internal

evidence of their authorship—Seneca the Philosopher a

Stoic—Inconsistent and unstable—The sentiments of his

Philosophical Works found in his Tragedies—Parallel passages

compared—French School of Tragic Poets 403

CHAPTER III.

Biography of Persius—His schoolboy days—His friends—His purity

and modesty—His defects as a Satirist—Subject of his

Satires—Obscurity of his style—Compared with Horace—Biography

of Juvenal—Corruption of Roman Morals—Critical observations on

the Satires—Their Historical value—Style of Juvenal—He was the

last of Roman Satirists 412

CHAPTER IV.

Biography of Lucan—Inscription to his Memory—Sentiments expressed

in the Pharsalia—Lucan an unequal Poet—Faults and merits of the

Pharsalia—Characteristics of his Age—Difficulties of Historical

Poetry—Lucan a descriptive Poet—Specimens of his

Poetry—Biography of Silius Italicus—His character by Pliny—His

Poem dull and tedious—His description of the Alps 428

CHAPTER V.

C. Valerius Flaccus—Faults of the Argonautica—Papinius

Statius—Beauty of his minor Poems—Incapable of Epic

Poetry—Domitian—Epigram—Martial—His Biography—Profligacy of the

Age in which he lived—Impurity of his Writings—Favourable

specimens of his Poetry 441

CHAPTER VI.

Aufidius Bassus and Cremutius Cordus—Velleius

Paterculus—Character of his Works—Valerius Maximus—Cornelius

Tacitus—Age of Trajan—Biography of Tacitus—His extant Works

enumerated—Agricola—Germany—Histories—Traditions respecting the

Jews—Annals—Object of Tacitus—His character—His style 455

CHAPTER VII.

C. Suetonius Tranquillus—His Biography—Sources of his History—His

great fault—Q. Curtius Rufus—Time when he flourished

doubtful—His Biography, of Alexander—Epitomes of L. Annæus

Florus—Sources whence he derived them 469

CHAPTER VIII.

M. Annæus Seneca—His Controversiæ and Suasoriæ—L. Annæus

Seneca—Tutor to Nero—His enormous fortune—His death and

character—Inconsistencies in his Philosophy—A favourite with

early Christian Writers—His Epistles—Work on Natural

Phenomena—Apocolocyntosis—His style 476

CHAPTER IX.

Pliny the Elder—His habits described by his Nephew—His industry

and application—His death in the eruption of Vesuvius—The

Eruption described in two Letters of Pliny the Younger—The

Natural History of Pliny—Its subjects described—Pliny the

Younger—His affection for his guardian—His Panegyric, Letters,

and Despatches—That concerning the Christians—The answer 483

CHAPTER X.

M. Fabius Quintilianus—His Biography—His Institutiones

Oratoriæ—His views of Education—Division of his Subject into

Five Parts—Review of Greek and Roman Literature—Completeness of

his great Work—His other Works—His disposition—Grief for the

loss of his son 499

CHAPTER XI.

A. Cornelius Celsus—His merits—Cicero Medicorum—Scribonius Largus

Designatianus—Pomponius Mela—L. Junius Moderatus Columella—S.

Julius Frontinus—Decline of taste in the Silver Age—Foreign

Influence on Roman Literature—Conclusion 508

Chronological Table 515

ROMAN CLASSICAL LITERATURE

BOOK I.

FIRST ERA.

CHAPTER I.

COMPARISON OF THE LATIN LANGUAGE WITH THE GREEK—ERAS OF LATINITY—ORIGIN

OF THE ROMANS—ELEMENTS OF THE LATIN LANGUAGE—ETRUSCAN INFLUENCE.

The various races which, from very remote antiquity, inhabited the

peninsula of Italy, necessarily gave a composite character to the Latin

language. But as all of them sprang from one common origin, the great

Indo-European stock to which also the Hellenic family belonged, a

relation of the most intimate kind is visible between the languages of

ancient Greece and Rome. Not only are their alphabets and grammatical

constructions identical, but the genius of the one is so similar to that

of the other, that the Romans readily adopted the principles of Greek

literary taste, and Latin, without losing its own characteristic

features, moulded itself after the Greek model.

Latin, however, has not the plastic property which the Greek

possesses—the natural faculty of transforming itself into every variety

of shape conceived by the fancy and imagination. It is a harder

material, it readily takes a polish, but the process by which it

receives it is laborious and artificial. Greek, like a liquid or a soft

substance, seems to crystallize as it were spontaneously into the most

beautiful forms: Latin, whether poetry or prose, derives only from

consummate art and skill that graceful beauty which is the natural

property of the kindred language.

Latin, also, to continue the same metaphor, has other characteristic

features of hard substances—gravity, solidity, and momentum or energy.

It is a fit language for embodying and expressing the thoughts of an

active and practical but not an imaginative and speculative people.

But the Latin language, notwithstanding its nervous energy and

constitutional vigour, has, by no means, exhibited the permanency and

vitality of the Greek. The Greek language, reckoning from the earliest

works extant to the present day, boasts of an existence measured by

nearly one-half the duration of the human race, and yet how gradual were

the changes during the classical periods, and how small, when compared

with those of other European languages, the sum and result of them all!

Setting aside the differences due to race and physical organization,

there are no abrupt chasms, no broad lines of demarkation, between one

literary period and another. The transition is gentle, slow, and

gradual. The successive steps can be traced and followed out. The

literary style of one period melts and is absorbed into that of the

following one, just like the successive tints and colours of the prism.

The Greek of the Homeric poems is not so different from that of

Herodotus and Thucydides, or the tragedians or the orators, or even the

authors of the later debased ages, but that the same scholar who

understands the one can analyze the rest. Though separated by so many

ages, the contemporaries of Demosthenes could appreciate the beauties of

Homer; and the Byzantines and early Christian fathers wrote and spoke

the language of the ancient Greek philosophers.

The Greek language long outlived Greek nationality. The earliest Roman

historians wrote in Greek because they had as yet no native language

fitter to express their thoughts. The Romans, in the time of Cicero,

made Greek the foundation of a liberal education, and frequented Athens

as a University for the purpose of studying Greek literature and

philosophy. The great orator, in his defence of the poet Archias,

informs us that Greek literature was read by almost all nations of the

world, whilst Latin was still confined within very narrow boundaries. At

the commencement of the Christian era Greek was so prevalent throughout

the civilized world, that it was the language chosen by the Evangelists

for recording the doctrines of the gospel. In the time of Hadrian, Greek

was the favourite language of literary men. The Princess Anna Comnena,

daughter of the Emperor Alexis, and Eustathius, the commentator on

Homer, both of whom nourished in the twelfth century after the birth of

Christ, are celebrated for the singular purity of their style; and,

lastly, Philelphus, who lived in the fifteenth century, and had visited

Constantinople, states, in a letter dated A. D. 1451, that although much

bad Greek was spoken in that capital, the court, and especially the

ladies, retained the dignity and elegance which characterize the purest

writers of the classical ages. “Græci quibus lingua depravata non sit,

et quos ipsi tum sequimur tum imitamur ita loquuntur vulgo etiam hac

tempestate ut Aristophanes comicus ut Euripides tragicus, ut oratores

omnes ut historiographi ut philosophi etiam ipsi et Plato et

Aristoteles. Viri aulici veterem sermonis dignitatem atque elegantiam

retinebant.”[3]

Such was the wonderful vitality of Greek in its ancient form; and yet,

strange to say, notwithstanding it clung so to existence, it seems as

though it was a plant of such delicate nature, that it could only

flourish under a combination of favourable circumstances. It pined and

withered when separated from the living Greek intellect. It lived only

where Greeks themselves lived, in their fatherland or in their colonies.

It refused to take root elsewhere. Whenever in any part of the world a

Greek settlement decayed, and the population became extinct, even

although Greek art and science, and literature and philosophy, had found

there a temporary home, the language perished also.

The Greek language could not exist when the fostering care of native

genius was withdrawn: it then shrunk back again into its original

dimensions, and was confined within the boundaries of its original home.

When the Greeks in any place passed away, their language did not

influence or amalgamate with that of the people which succeeded them.

Latin, on the other hand, was propagated like the dominion of Rome by

conquest; it either took the place of the language of the conquered

nation, or became engrafted upon it and gradually pervaded its

composition. Hence its presence is discernible in all European

languages. In Spain it became united with the Celtic and Iberian as

early as the period of the Gracchi: it was planted in Gaul by the

conquests of Julius Cæsar, and in Britain (so far as the names of

localities are concerned) by his transient expeditions; and lastly, in

the reign of Trajan, it became permanently fixed in the distant regions

of Dacia and Pannonia.

It is scarcely correct to term Greek a dead language. It has

degenerated, but has never perished or disappeared. Its harmonious

modulations are forgotten, and its delicate pronunciation is no longer

heard, but Greek is still spoken at Athens. The language, of course,

exhibits those features which constitute the principal difference

between ancient and modern languages; prepositions and particles have

supplanted affixes and inflexions, auxiliary verbs supply the gaps

caused by the crumbling away of the old conjugations, and literal

translations of modern modes of speech give an air of incongruity and

barbarism; but still the language is upon the whole wonderfully

preserved. A well-educated modern Greek would find less difficulty in

understanding the writings of Xenophon than an Englishman would

experience in reading Chaucer, or perhaps Spenser.

Greek has evinced not only vitality, but individuality likewise.

Compared with other languages, its stream flowed pure through barbarous

lands, and was but little tinged or polluted by the soil through which

it passed. There is nothing of this in Latin, neither the vitality nor

the power of resistance to change. Strange to say, although partially

derived from the same source, its properties appear to be totally

different. Latin seems to have a strong disposition to change; it

readily became polished, and as readily barbarized; it had no difficulty

in enriching itself with new expressions borrowed from the Greek, and

conforming itself to Greek rules of taste and grammar. When it came in

contact with the languages of other nations, the affinity which it had

for them was so strong that it speedily amalgamated with them, but it

did not so much influence them as itself receive an impress from them.

It did not supersede, but it became absorbed in and was corrupted by,

other tongues. Probably, as it was originally made up of many European

elements, it recognised a relationship with all other languages, and

therefore readily admitted of fusion together with them into a composite

form. Its existence is confined within the limits of less than eight

centuries. It assumed a form adapted for literary composition less than

two centuries and a half before the Christian era, and it ceased to be a

spoken language in the sixth century.

As long as the Roman empire existed in its integrity, and the capital

city retained its influence as the patron to whom all literary men must

look for support, and as the model of refinement and civilization, the

language maintained its dominion. Provincial writers endeavoured to rid

themselves of their provincialisms. At Rome they formed their taste and

received their education. The rule of language was the usage of the

capital; but when the empire was dismembered, and language was thus set

free from its former restrictions, each section of it felt itself at

liberty to have an independent language and literature of its own, the

classical standard was neglected, Latin rapidly became barbarized.

Again, Latin has interpenetrated or become the nucleus of every language

of civilized Europe; it has shown great facilities of adaptation, but no

individuality or power to supersede; but the relation which it bears to

them is totally unlike that which ancient Greek bears to modern. The

best Latin scholar would not understand Dante or Tasso, nor would a

knowledge of Italian enable one to read Horace and Virgil.

The old Roman language, as it existed previous to coming in contact with

Greek influences, has almost entirely perished. It will be shown

hereafter that only a few records of it remain; and the language of

these fragments is very different from that of the classical period. Nor

did the old language grow into the new like the Greek of two successive

ages by a process of development, but it was remoulded by external and

foreign influences. So different was the old Roman from classical Latin,

that although the investigations of modern scholars have enabled us to

decipher the fragments which remain, and to point out the analogies

which exist between old and new forms, some of them were with difficulty

intelligible to the cleverest and best educated of the Augustan age. The

treaty which Rome made with Carthage in the first year of the Republic

was engraved on brazen tablets, and preserved in the archives of the

Capitol. Polybius had learning enough to translate it into Greek, but he

tells us that the language of it was too archaic for the Romans of his

day.[4]

A wide gap separates this old Latin from the Latin of Ennius, whose

style was formed by Greek taste; another not so wide is interposed

between the age of Ennius and that of Plautus and Terence, both of whom

wrote in the language of their adopted city, but confessedly copied

Greek models; and, lastly, Cicero and the Augustan poets mark another

age, to which from the preceding one, the only transition with which we

are acquainted is the style of oratory of Caius Gracchus, which

tradition informs us was free from ancient rudeness, although it had not

acquired the smoothness and polish of Hortensius or Cicero.

In order to arrive at the origin of the Latin language it will be

necessary to trace that of the Romans themselves. In the most distant

ages to which tradition extends, the peninsula of Italy appears to have

been inhabited by three stocks or tribes of the great Indo-Germanic

family. One of these is commonly known by the name of Oscans; another

consisted of two branches, the Sabellians, or Sabines, and the Umbrians;

the third were called Sikeli, sometimes Vituli and Itali. What

affinities there were between these and the other Indo-European tribes

out of Italy, or by what route they came from the original cradle of the

human race is wrapped in obscurity. Donaldson considers that all the

so-called aboriginal inhabitants of Italy were of the same race as the

Lithuanians or old Prussians. The Oscans evidently, from the name which

tradition assigns to them, claimed to be the aboriginal inhabitants. The

name Osci, or Opici, which is a longer form of it, is etymologically

connected with Ops, the goddess Earth, and consequently their national

appellation is equivalent to the Greek terms αυτοχθονες, or γηγενεις,

the “children of the soil.” That the Sabellians and Umbrians are

branches of the same stock is proved by the similarity which has been

discovered to exist between the languages spoken by them. The Umbrians

also claimed great antiquity, for the Greeks are said to have given them

their name from ομβρος, rain; implying that they were an antediluvian

race, and had survived the storms of rain which deluged the world. Pliny

likewise considers them the most ancient race in Italy.[5]

The original settlements of the Umbrians extended over the district

bounded on one side by the Tiber, on the other by the Po. All the

country to the south was in the possession of the Oscans, with the

exception of Latium, which was inhabited by the Sikeli. But in process

of time, the Oscans, pressed upon by the Sabellians, invaded the abodes

of this peaceful and rural people, some of whom submitted and

amalgamated with their conquerors, the rest were driven across the

narrow sea into Sicily, and gave the name to that island.[6] These

native tribes were not left in undisturbed possession of their rich

inheritance. There arrived in the north of Italy that enterprising race,

famed alike for their warlike spirit and their skill in the arts of

peace, the Pelasgians (or dark Asiatics,) and became the civilizers of

Italy. Historical research has failed to discover what settlements this

wonderful race inhabited immediately previous to their occupation of

Etruria. According to Livy’s account[7] they must have arrived in Italy

by sea, for he asserts that their first settlements were south of the

Apennines, that thence they spread northwards, and that the Rhæti were a

portion of them, and spoke their language in a barbarous and corrupt

form. His testimony ought to have some weight, because, as a native of

the neighbourhood, he probably knew the Rhætian language. Their

immigration must have taken place more than one thousand years before

Christ,[8] and yet they were far advanced in the arts of civilization

and refinement, and the science of politics and social life. They

enriched their newly-acquired country with commerce, and filled it with

strongly-fortified and populous cities; their dominion rapidly spread

over the whole of Italy from sea to sea, from the Alps to Vesuvius and

Salerno, and even penetrated into the islands of Elba and Corsica.[9]

Herodotus[10] asserts that they migrated from Lydia; and this tradition

was adopted by the Romans and by themselves.[11] Dionysius[12] rejects

this theory on the grounds that there is no similarity between the

Lydian and Etruscan language, religion, or institutions, and that

Xanthus, a native Lydian historian, makes no mention of this migration.

Doubtless the language is unique, nor can a connexion be traced between

it and any family; but their alphabet is Phœnician, their theology and

polity oriental, their national dress and national symbol, the eagle,

was Lydian, and a remarkable custom alluded to both by Herodotus[13] and

Plautus[14] was Lydian likewise.

Entering the territory of the Umbrians, they drove them before them into

the rugged and mountainous districts, and themselves occupied the rich

and fertile plains. The head-quarters of the invaders was Etruria; the

conquered Umbrians lived amongst them as a subject people, like the

Peloponnesians under their Dorian conquerors, or the Saxons under the

Norman nobility. This portion of the Pelasgians called themselves

Rasena, the Greeks spoke of them as Tyrseni, a name evidently connected

with the Greek τυρρις or τυρσις (Latin, Turris,) and which remarkably

confirms the assertion of Herodotus, since the only Pelasgians who were

famed for architecture or tower-building, were those who claimed a

Lydian extraction, namely, the Argives and Etruscans.[15] This theory of

the Pelasgian origin of the Etruscans is due to Lepsius,[16] and has

been adopted by Donaldson;[17] and if it be correct, the language of

Etruria was probably Pelasgian amalgamated with, and to a certain extent

corrupted by, the native Umbrian.

Pelasgian supremacy on the left bank of the Tiber found no one to

dispute it. Let us now turn our attention to the influence of these

invaders in lower Italy. As they marched southwards, they vanquished the

Oscans and occupied the plains of Latium. They did not, however, remain

long at peace in the districts which they had conquered. The old

inhabitants returned from the neighbouring highlands to which they had

been driven, and subjugated the northern part of Latium.

The history of the occupation of Etruria, which has been already

related, was here acted over again, with only the following alteration,

that here the Oscan was the dominant tribe, and the subject people

amongst whom they took up their abode were Pelasgians and Sikeli, by

whom the rest of the low country of Latium were still occupied. The

towns of the north formed a federal union, of which Alba was the

capital, whilst of the southern or Pelasgian confederacy the chief city

was Lavinium, or Latinium. The conquering Oscans were a nation of

warriors and hunters, and consequently, as Niebuhr remarked, in the

language of this district the terms belonging to war and hunting are

Oscan, whilst those which relate to peace and the occupations of rural

life are Pelasgian. As, therefore, the language of Etruria was

Pelasgian, corrupted by Umbrian, so Pelasgian + Oscan is the formula

which presents the language of Latium.

But the Roman or Latin language is still more composite in its nature,

and consists of more than these two elements. This phenomenon is also to

be accounted for by the origin of the Roman people. The septi-montium

upon which old Rome was built was occupied by different Italian tribes.

A Latin tribe belonging, if we may trust the mythical tradition, to the

Alban confederacy, had their settlement upon the Mount Palatine, and a

Sabine or Sabellian community occupied the neighbouring heights of the

Quirinal and Capitoline. Mutual jealousy of race kept them for some time

separate from each other; but at length the privilege of intermarriage

was conceded, and the two communities became one people.

The Tyrrhene Pelasgians, however, separated only by a small river from

this new state, rapidly rising to power and prosperity, were not likely

to view its existence without distrust and jealousy. Accordingly, the

early Roman historical traditions evidently point to a period during

which Rome was subject to Etruscan rule. When the Etruscan dynasty

passed away, its influence in many respects still remained. The religion

and mythology of Etruria left an indelible stamp on the rites and

ceremonies of the Roman people. The Etruscan deities were the natural

gods of Rome before the influence of Greek poetry introduced the

mythology of Homer and Hesiod into her Pantheon. The characters and

attributes of these deities were totally different from those of Greece.

No licentious orgies disgraced their worship; they were defiled by none

of their vices.[18] Saturn, Janus, Sylvanus, Faunus, and other Etruscan

deities, were grave, venerable, pure, and delighted in the simple

occupations of rural life. It was only general features of resemblance

which enabled the poets in later ages to identify Saturn with Kronos,

Sylvanus with Pan, the prophetic Camenæ of the Janiculum with the muses

of Parnassus.[19] The point, however, most important for the present

consideration is that their language was likewise permanently affected.

The ethnical affinities which have been here briefly stated, and which

may be considered as satisfactorily established by the investigations of

Niebuhr, Müller, Lepsius, Donaldson, and others, are a guide to the

affinities of the Latin language, and point out the elements of which it

is composed. These elements, then, are Umbrian, Oscan, Etruscan, Sabine,

and Pelasgian; but, as has been stated, the Etruscan language was a

compound of Oscan and Pelasgian, and the Sabine was the link between the

Umbrian and Oscan, therefore the elements of the Latin are reduced to

three, namely, Umbrian, Oscan and Pelasgian. These may again be

classified under two heads, the one which has, the other which has not,

a resemblance to the Greek. All Latin words which resemble Greek are

Pelasgian,[20] all which do not are Oscan and Umbrian. From the first of

these classes must of course be excepted those words—such, for example,

as Triclinium, &c.,—which are directly derived from the Greek, the

origin of which dates partly from the time when Rome began to have

intercourse with the Greek colonies of Magna Græcia, partly since Greek

exercised an influence on Roman literature. It is clear from the

testimony of Horace that the enriching of the language by the adoption

of such foreign words was defended and encouraged by the literary men of

the Augustan age:—

—— Si forte necesse est

Indiciis monstrare recentibus abdita rerum

Fingere cinctutis non exaudita Cethegis

Continget; dabiturque licentia sumta pudenter,

Et nova fictaque nuper habebunt verba fidem, si

Græco fonte cadant, parce detorta.

_Hor. Ep. ad Pis. 48._

CHAPTER II.

THE EUGUBINE TABLES—EXISTENCE OF OSCAN IN ITALY—BANTINE TABLE—PERUGIAN

INSCRIPTION—ETRUSCAN ALPHABET AND WORDS—CHANT OF FRATRES ARVALES—SALIAN

HYMN—OTHER MONUMENTS OF OLD LATIN—LATIN AND GREEK ALPHABETS COMPARED.

THE UMBRIAN LANGUAGE.

In the neighbourhood of Ugubio,[21] at the foot of the Apennines (the

ancient Iguvium,) were discovered, in A. D. 1444, seven tables, commonly

called the Eugubine Tables. They were in good preservation, and

contained prayers and rules for religious ceremonies. Some of them were

engraved in the Etruscan or Umbrian characters, others in Latin letters.

Lepsius[22] has determined, from philological considerations, that the

date of them must be as early as from A. U. C. 400,[23] and that the

letters were engraved about two centuries later. A comparison of the two

shows, in the Umbrian character, the letter _s_ standing in the place

occupied by _r_ in the Latin, and _k_ in the place of _g_, because the

Etruscan alphabet, with which the Umbrian is the same, did not contain

the medial letters _B_, _G_, _D_. An analogous substitute is seen in the

transition from the old to the more modern Latin. The names Furius and

Caius, for example, were originally written Fusius and Gaius. _H_ is

also introduced between two vowels, as stahito for stato, in the same

way that in Latin aheneus is derived from _aes_. It also appears that

the termination of the masculine singular was _o_: thus, orto = ortus;

whilst that of the plural was or; _e. g._, subator = subacti; screhitor

= scripti. This mode of inflexion illustrates the form amaminor for

amamini, which was itself a participle used for amamini estis, an idiom

analogous to the Greek τετυμμενοι εισι.

The following extract, with the translation by Donaldson,[24] together

with a few words which present the greatest resemblance to the Latin,

will suffice to give a general notion of the relation which the Umbrian

bears to it:—

Teio subokau suboko, Dei Grabovi, okriper Fisiu, totaper Jiovina, erer

nomne-per, erar, nomne-per; fos sei, paker sei, okre Fisei, Tote

Jiovine, erer nomne, erar nomne: Tab. VI. (_Lepsius._) Te invocavi

invoco, Jupiter Grabovi, pro monte Fisio, pro urbe Iguvina, pro illius

nomine, pro hujus nomine, bonus sis, propitius sis, monti Fisio, urbi

Iguvinæ, illius nomine, hujus nomine.

Alfu albus white

Asa ara altar

Aveis aves birds

Buf boves oxen

Ferine farina meal

Nep nec nor

Nome nomen name

Parfa parra owl

Peica picus pie

Periklum preculum prayer (dim.)

Poplus populus people

Puni panis bread

Rehte recte rightly

Skrehto scriptus written

Suboko sub-voco invoke

Subra supra above

Taflle tabula table

Tuplu duplus double

Tripler triplus triple

Tota (analogous to) totus a city (a whole or collection)

Vas fas law

Vinu vinum wine

Uve ovis sheep

Vitlu vitulus calf.[25]

THE OSCAN LANGUAGE.

The remains which have come down to us of this language belong, in fact,

to a composite idiom made up of the Sabine and Oscan. Although its

literature has entirely perished, inscriptions fortunately still

survive; but as they must have been engraved long subsequently to the

settlement of the Sabellians in Southern Italy, the language in which

they are written must necessarily be compounded of those spoken both by

the conquerors and the conquered. Although Livy[26] makes mention of an

Oscan dramatic literature, for he tells us that the “Fabulæ Atellanæ” of

the Oscans were introduced when a pestilence raged at Rome,[27] together

with other theatrical entertainments, he only speaks of the Oscan

language in one passage.[28] This, however, is an important one, because

it proves that Oscan was the vernacular tongue of the Samnites at that

period. He relates that Volumnius sent spies into the Samnite camp who

understood Oscan: “Gnaros Oscæ linguæ exploratum quid agatur mittit.”

It is clear that the reason why the Oscan language prevailed amongst

this people is, that the dominant orders in Samnium were Sabines. But

there is evidence of the existence of Oscan in Italy at a still later

period. Niebuhr[29] asserts that in the Social War[30] the Marsi spoke

Oscan, although in writing they used the Latin characters. Some denarii

still exist struck by the confederate Italian Government established in

that war at Corfinium, on which the word _Italia_ is inscribed, whilst

others bear the word Viteliu. The latter is the old Oscan orthography,

the former the Latin. One class of these coins, therefore, was struck

for the use of the Sabine, the other of the Marsian allies. It is said

also that Oscan was spoken even after the establishment of the empire.

The principal monument of the Sabello-Oscan is a brass plate which was

discovered A. D. 1793. As the word _Bansæ_ occurs in the 23d line of the

inscription, it has been supposed to refer to the town of Bantia, which

was situated not far from the spot where the tablet was found, and it is

therefore called the Bantine Table. In consequence of the perfect state

of the central portion, much of this inscription has been interpreted

with tolerable certainty and correctness. The affinity may be traced

between most of the words and their corresponding Latin; and it is

perfectly clear that the variations from the Latin follow certain

definite rules, and that the grammatical inflexions were the same as in

the oldest Latin. A copy of the Table may be found in the collection of

Orellius, and also in Donaldson’s “Varronianus.”[31] The following are a

few specimens of words in which a resemblance to the Latin will be

readily recognised, and also, in some instances, the relation of the

Oscan to the other ancient languages of Italy:—

Licitud Liceto

Multam Mulctam,

Maimas Maximas,

Carneis Carnes

Senateis Senatus

Pis quis

Hipid habeat

Pruhipid præhibeat

Pruhipust præhibuent

Censtur censor

Censazet censapit

Censaum, &c. censum, &c.

Comonei Communis

Perum dolum mallom siom Per dolum malum suum

Iok—Ionc hoc—hunc

Pod quod

Valæmon Valetudinem

Fust fuerit

Poizad penset (Anglicè, poize.)

Fuid fuit

Tarpinius Tarquinius

Ampus Ancus

To these other well-known words may be added, which all philologers

allow to be originally Oscan, but which have been incorporated with the

Latin—such as, for example, Brutus, Cascus, Catus, Fœdus, Idus, Porcus,

Trabea; and names of deities, such as Fides, Terminus, Vertumnus, Fors,

Flora, Lares, Mamers, Quirinus, &c.

THE ETRUSCAN LANGUAGE.

The difficulty and obscurity in which the Etruscan language is involved

are owing to the nature of the inscriptions and monuments which have

been discovered. Those records, to which reference has already been made

when speaking of the Umbrian and Sabello-Oscan, were of a ceremonial or

legal character; they therefore contained connected phrases and

sentences, varied modes of thought and expression. Monuments such as the

Eugubine or Bantine Tables contribute not a little towards a vocabulary

of the languages, and still more to a knowledge of their structure and

analogies. This, however, is not the case with the Etruscan monuments of

antiquity which have been hitherto discovered. They are, indeed,

numerous, but they exhibit little variety. They are sepulchral records

of a complimentary kind, or titles inscribed on statues and votive

offerings. Hence the same brief phraseology continually recurs, and the

principal portions of the inscriptions are occupied by proper names.

The most important, because the largest, Etruscan record which has been

hitherto discovered, is one which was found near Perugia, A. D.

1822.[32] This inscription contains one hundred and thirty-one words and

abbreviations of words, and of these no fewer than thirty-eight are

proper names. Of the rest, a vast number are either frequently repeated,

or are etymologically connected. These have not proved sufficient to

enable any philologist (although many have attempted it) to give a

satisfactory and trustworthy explanation of its contents.

A comparison of the Perugian with the Eugubine inscription shows the

existence of similarity between some of the words found in both of them;

and this is exactly what we should _à priori_ expect to result from the

theory of the Etruscan being a compound of the Pelasgian and Umbrian. In

the Perugian inscription, words which resemble the Umbrian forms are

more numerous than those which seem to have an affinity for the

Pelasgian. Indeed, the language in which it is written appears almost

entirely to have lost the Pelasgian element. The same observation may be

made with respect to the Cortonian inscription:[33]—

Arses verses Sethlanl tephral ape termnu pisest estu; _i. e._ Avertas

ignem Vulcane victimarum carne post terminum piatus esto; Avertas

ignem Vulcane in cinerem redigens qui apud terminum piatus esto.

Probably, therefore, both these belong to a period at which the old

Umbrian of the conquered tribes had been exercising a long-continued

influence in corrupting the pure Pelasgian of the conquerors.

One example of the Etruscan alphabet is extant. It was discovered in a

tomb at Bomarzo, by Mr. Dennis,[34] inscribed round the foot of a cup,

and probably had been a present for a child. The letters ran from left

to right, and are as follows:—

[Illustration: ph ch th u t s r s p n m l i th h z v e c a]

It will be seen from this specimen that the Etruscan language was

deficient in the letters Β Γ Δ Ξ Ψ Η Ο Ω.

The following is a catalogue of those Etruscan words which have been

handed down to us, together with their Latin interpretation. The list is

but a meager one, but valuable as containing some which have been

admitted into the Latin, and as exhibiting many affinities to the

Pelasgian:—

Æsar Deus

Agalletor Puer

Andar Boreas

Anhelos Aurora

Antar Aquila

Aracos Accipiter

Arimos Simia

Arse Verse Averte ignem

Ataison Vitis

Burros Poculum

Balteus }

Capra } The same as in the Latin.

Cassis }

Celer }

Capys Falco

Damnus Equus

Drouna Principium

Falandum Cœlum

Gapos Currus

Hister Ludio

Iduare Dividere

Idulus Ovis

Itus Idus

Læna Vestimentum

Lanista Carnifex

Lar Dominus

Lucumo Princeps

Mantisa Additamentum

Nanos Vagabundus

Nepos Luxuriosus

Rasena Etrusci

Subulo Tibicen

Slan Filius

Sec Filia

Ril avil Vixit annos

Toga Toga

The discoveries of General Galassi and Mr. Dennis at the Etruscan city

of Cervetri have shown to what an extent the Pelasgian element prevailed

in the old Etruscan. Cervetri was the old Cære or Agylla, which was

founded by Pelasgians, maintained a religious connexion with the Greeks

as a kindred race,[36] and remained Pelasgian to a late period.[37] In

the royal tomb discovered in this place the name of Tarquin—

[Illustration: Tarquin]

occurs no less than thirty-five times.[38] On a little cruet-shaped

vase, like an ink-bottle, was found inscribed the syllables Bi, Ba, Bu,

&c., as in a horn-book, and also an alphabet in the Pelasgian

character.[39] These characters are almost identical with the Etruscan.

Again, General Galassi found here a small black pot, with letters

legibly scratched, and filled with red paint.[40] Lepsius pronounced

them to be Pelasgian, divided them into words, and arranged them in the

following lines, which are evidently hexametrical:—

Mi ni kethu ma mi mathu maram lisiai thipurenai

Ethe erai sic epana mi nethu nastav helephu.

Mr. Donaldson[41] has offered some suggestions, with a view to

explaining this inscription, and has clearly shown many close affinities

to the Greek; but there is another which he quotes, and which is

pronounced by Müller[42] to be pure Pelasgian, which even in its

Pelasgian form is almost Greek:—

Mi kalairu fuius.

ἐιμι Καλαιροῦ Ϝυιός.

It would be impossible in this work to attempt the analysis of all the

known Etruscan words, and to point out their affinities to the

Pelasgian, the Greek, or the Latin; but a few examples may be given,

whilst the reader, who wishes to pursue the subject further, is referred

to the investigations of the learned author of the “Varronianus.”

Aifil, age, is evidently from the same root as the Greek αἰων, the

digamma, which is the characteristic of the Pelasgian, as it was of the

derivative dialect, the Æolic, being inserted between the vowels. Aruns,

an agriculturist, contains the root of ἀρόω, to plough. Capys, a falcon,

that of capio, to catch. Cassis (originally capsis,) that of caput, the

head. Lituus, a curved staff, that of obliquus. Toga, that of tego, the

dress, which was originally as much the Etruscan costume as it

subsequently became characteristic of the Roman. Lastly, it is well

known that, whereas the Greeks denoted numbers by the letters of the

alphabet, the Romans had a system of numeral signs. This was a great

improvement. The Greek system of notation was clumsy, because in reality

it only pointed out the order in which each number stands. The Roman

notation, on the other hand, represented arithmetical quantity, and even

the addition and subtraction of quantities; and this elegant contrivance

the Romans owed to the Etruscans. Their numerals were as follows:—

[Illustration]

This system is identical with the Roman, for Ʌ inverted became Ⅴ, and

[50 symbol], [100 symbol], [500 symbol], and [1000 symbol] became

respectively Ⅼ, Ⅽ, Ⅾ, and ⅭⅠↃ, for which Ⅿ was substituted in later

times.

From the few examples which have been here given, it is evident that the

Pelasgian element of the Etruscan was most influential in the formation

of the Latin language, as the Pelasgian art and science of that

wonderful people contributed to the advancement and improvement of the

Roman character.

THE OLD LATIN LANGUAGE.

The above observations, and the materials out of which the old Latin was

composed, have prepared the way for some illustrations of its structure

and character. The monuments from which all our information is derived

are few in number: the conflagration of Rome destroyed the majority; the

common accidents of a long series of years completed the mischief.

Almost the only records which remain are laws, ceremonials, epitaphs,

and honorary inscriptions.

An example of the oldest Latin extant is contained in the sacred chant

of the Fratres Arvales. The inscription which embodied this Litany was

discovered A. D. 1778,[43] whilst digging out the foundations of the

sacristy of St. Peter’s at Rome. The monument belongs to the reign of

Heliogabalus;[44] but although the date is so recent, the permanence of

religious formulæ renders it probable that the inscription contains the

exact words sung by this priesthood in the earliest times.

The Fratres Arvales were a college of priests, founded, according to the

tradition, by Romulus himself. The symbolical ensign of their office was

a chaplet of ears of corn (spicea corona,) and their function was to

offer prayers in solemn dances and processions at the opening of spring

for plenteous harvests. Their song was chanted in the temple with closed

doors, accompanied by that peculiar dance which was termed the

tripudium, from its containing three beats. To this rhythm the Saturnian

measure of the hymn corresponds; and for this reason each verse was

thrice repeated. The hymn contains sixteen letters: _s_ is sometimes put

for _r_, _ei_ for _i_, and _p_ for _f_ or _ph_. The following is a

transcription of it, as given by Orellius, to which an interpretation is

subjoined:—

Enos Lases juvate.

Nos Lares juvate.

Us O Lares help.

Neve luaerve Marmer sins incurrere in pleoris.

Neve luem Mars sinas incurrere plus.

Nor the pestilence O Mars permit to invade more.

Satur fufere Mars limen Salista berber.

Satiatus furendo Mars lumen Solis sta fervere.

Satiated with fury, O Mars, the light of the sun stop from burning.

Semunis alternei advocapit conctos.

Semihemones alterni ad vos capite cunctos.

Us half-men in your turns to you take all.

Enos Marmer juvato.

Nos Mars juvato.

Us Mars help.

Triumpe, triumpe, triumpe, triumpe, triumpe.

Triumph, &c.

Of the Salian hymn (Carmen Saliare,) another monument of ancient Latin,

the following fragments, preserved by Varro,[45] are all that remain,

with the exception of a few isolated words:—

(1.) Cozeulodoizesa, omina vero ad patula coemisse

Jam cusiones; duonus ceruses dunzianus vevet.[45]

This has been corrected, arranged in the Saturnian metre, and translated

into Latin by Donaldson,[46] as follows:—

Choroi-aulōdos eso, omina enim vero

Ad patula’ ose misse Jani cariones.

Duonus Cerus esit dunque Janus vevet.

Choroio-aulodus ero, omina enim vero ad patulas aures

Miserunt Jani curiones. Bonus Cerus erit donec Janus vivet.

I will be a flute-player in the chorus, for the priests of Janus

have sent omens to open ears. Cerus (the Creator) will be

propitious so long as Janus shall live.

(2.) Divum empta cante, divum deo supplicante.

_i. e._ Deorum impetu canite, deorum deo suppliciter canite.

Sing by the inspiration of the gods, sing as suppliants to the

god of gods.

The _Leges Regiæ_ are generally considered as furnishing the next

examples, in point of antiquity, of the old Latin language; but there

can be little doubt that, although they were assumed by the metrical

traditions to belong to the period of the kings,[47] they belong to a

later historical period than the laws of the Twelve Tables. Some

fragments of laws, attributed to Numa and Servius Tullius, are preserved

by Festus[48] in a restored and corrected form, and, therefore, it is to

be feared that they have been modernized in accordance with the

orthographical rules of a later age.

One of these laws is quoted by Livy[49] as put in force in the trial of

the surviving Horatius for the murder of his sister when he returned, as

the tradition relates, from his victory over the Curatii. Another is

alluded to by Pliny,[50] which forbids the sacrificing all fish which

have not scales; but they are given in modern Latin, and can only be

restored to their old form by conjecture.

We may, therefore, proceed at once to a consideration of the Latin of

the Twelve Tables, of which fragments have been preserved by Cicero,

Aulus Gellius, Festus, Gaius, Ulpian, and others. These fragments are to

be found collected together in Haubold’s “Institutionum Juris Romani

privati lineamenta” and Donaldson’s “Varronianus.”[51] The laws of the

Twelve Tables were engraven on tablets of brass, and publicly set up in

the Comitium, and were first made public in B. C. 449.[52] Nor had the

Romans any other digested code of laws until the time of Justinian.[53]

The following are a few examples of the words and phrases contained in

them:—

Ni nec

Em eum

Endo jacito injicito

Ævitas ætas

Fuat sit

Sonticus nocens

Hostis Hospes

Diffensus esto differatur

Se sine

Venom-dint venum det

Estod esto

Escit est

Legassit, &c. legaverit.

The next example of the old Latin is contained in the Tiburtine

inscription, which was discovered in the sixteenth century at Tivoli,

the ancient Tibur. It came into the possession of the Barberini family;

but it was afterwards lost, and has never been recovered. Niebuhr[54]

considers (and his conjecture is probably correct) that this monument is

a Senatus-consultum, belonging to the period of the second Samnite

war.[55] The inscription is given at length in the collection of

Gruter,[56] and also by Niebuhr[57] and Donaldson.[58] The Latin in

which it is written may be considered almost classical, the variations

from that of a later age being principally orthographical. For example:—

Tiburtes is written Teiburtes

Castoris is written Kastorus

Advertit is written advortit

Dixistis is written deixsistis

Publicæ is written poplicæ

Utile is written oitile

Inducimus is written indoucimus

A or ab before v is written af.

This document is followed very closely, in point of time, by the

well-known inscription on the sarcophagus of L. Cornelius Scipio[59]

Barbatus, and the epitaph on his son,[60] which are both written in the

old Saturnian metre. Scipio Barbatus was the great-grandfather of the

conqueror of Hannibal, and was consul in A. U. C. 456, the first year of

the third Samnite war. His sarcophagus was found A. D. 1780 in a tomb

near the Appian Way, whence it was removed to the Vatican. The epitaph

is as follows:—

Cornelius Lucius Scipio Barbatus Gnaivod

Patre prognatus fortis vir sapiensque

Quoius forma virtutei parisuma fuit

Consol Censor Aidilis quei fuit apud vos

Taurasia Cisauna Samnio cepit

Subigit omne Loucana opsidesque abdoucit.

“Cornelius L. Scipio Barbatus, son of Cnæus, a brave and wise man, whose

beauty was equal to his virtue. He was amongst you Consul, Censor,

Ædile. He took Taurasia, Cisauna, and Samnium; he subjugated all

Lucania, and led away hostages.”

His son was Consul A. U. C. 495.[61] The following inscription is on a

slab which was found near the Porta Capona. The title is painted red

(rubricatus:)—

L. Cornelio L. F. Scipio, Aidiles, Consol, Censor.

Honc oino ploirume cosentiunt R.

Duonoro optimo fuise viro

Luciom Scipionem. Filios Barbati

Consol Censor Aidiles hic fuet

Hic cepit Corsica Aleria que urbe

Dedet tempestatebus aide mereto.

“Romans for the most part agree, that this one man, Lucius Scipio, was

the best of good men. He was the son of Barbatus, Consul, Censor, Ædile.

He took Corsica and the city Aleria. He dedicated a temple to the Storms

as a just return.”

It is not a little remarkable that the style of this epitaph is more

archaic than that of the preceding.

The consul of the year B. C. 260 was C. Duilius, who in that year gained

his celebrated naval victory over the Carthaginians; the inscription,

therefore, engraved on the pedestal of the Columna Rostrata, which was

erected in commemoration of that event, may be considered as a

contemporary monument of the language.[62] Some alterations were

probably made in its orthography at a period subsequent to its erection,

for it was rent asunder from top to bottom by lightning A. U. C.

580,[63] and is supposed not to have been repaired until the reign of

Augustus, for the restoration of a temple built by Duilius was begun by

that emperor and completed by Tiberius.[64] The principal peculiarities

to be observed in this inscription are, that the ablatives singular end

in _d_, as in the words Siceliad, obsidioned; _c_ is put for _g_, as in

_macistratos_, _leciones_; _e_ for _i_, as in _navebos_, _ornavet_; _o_

for _u_, as in _Duilios_, _aurom_; _classes_, _nummi_, &c., are spelt

clases, numei, and _quinqueremos_, _triremos_, _quinresmos_, _triesmos_.

This monument was discovered A. D. 1565, in a very imperfect state, but

its numerous _lacunæ_ were supplied by Grotefend.

About sixty years after the date of this epitaph,[65] the

Senatus-consultum, respecting the Bacchanals, was passed.[66] This

monument was discovered A. D. 1692, in the Calabrian village of Terra di

Feriolo, and is now preserved in the Imperial Museum of Vienna.[67]

There is scarcely any difference between the Latinity of this

inscription and that of the classical period except in the orthography

and some of the grammatical inflexions. The expressions are in

accordance with the usage of good authors, and the construction is not

without elegance. Nor is this to be wondered at when it is remembered

that, at the period when this decree was published, Rome already

possessed a written literature. Ennius was now known as a poet and an

historian, and many of the comedies of Plautus had been acted on the

public stage.

Having thus enumerated the existing monuments of the old Roman language

and its constituent elements, it remains to compare the Latin and Greek

alphabets, for the purpose of exhibiting the variations which the Latin

letters have severally undergone.

The letters then may be arranged according to the following

classification:—

{ Soft P C K or Q, T.

{ Mutes { Medial B G D.

Consonants { { Aspirates F (V) H —

{ Liquids L, M, N, R.

{ Sibilants S, X.

Vowels A, E, I, O, U.

Owing to the relation which subsists between P, B, and F or V, as the

soft medial and aspirated pronunciation of the same letters, P and B, as

well as F and V, in Latin, are the representatives or equivalents of the

Greek F sound (φ and Ϝ,) and V also sometimes stands in the place of β.

For example (1,) the Latin _fama_, _fero_, _fugio_, _vir_, &c.,

correspond to the Greek φημή, φέρω, φεύγω (Ϝ)Ἄρης. (2.) _Nebula_,

_caput_, _albus_, _ambo_, to νεφέλη, κεφαλή, ἀλφός, ἄμφω. Similarly,

_duonus_ and _duellum_ become _bonus_ and _bellum_; the transition being

from _du_ to a sound like the English _w_, thence to _v_, and lastly to

_b_. The old Latin _c_ was used as the representative of its

corresponding medial G, as well as K; for example, magistratus,

legiones, Carthaginienses were written on the Columna Rostrata,

_leciones_, _macistratus_, _Cartacinienses_. The representative of the

Greek κ was c; thus caput stands for κεφαλή: the sound _qu_ also, as

might be expected, from its answering to the Greek koppa (Q,) and the

Hebrew koph (‏ק‎,) had undoubtedly in the old Latin the same sound as C

or K, and, therefore, quatio becomes, in composition, cutio; and quojus,

quoi, quolonia, become, in classical Latin, _cujus_, _cui_, _colonia_.

This pronunciation has descended to the modern French language, although

it has become lost in the Italian. A passage from the “Aulularia”[68] of

Plautus illustrates this assertion, and Quintilian[69] also bears

testimony to the existence of the same pronunciation in the time of

Cicero.

The aspirate H is in Latin the representative of the Greek Χ, as, for

example, _hiems_, _hortus_, and _humi_ correspond to χείμων, χόρτος,

χάμαι, whilst the third Greek aspirated mute Θ becomes a tenuis in the

mouths of the early Latins, as in _Cartaginienses_, and the _h_ sound

was afterwards restored when Greek exercised an influence over the

language as well as the literature of Rome.

The absence of the _th_ sound in the old Latin is compensated for in a

variety of ways; sometimes by an _f_, as fera, fores, for θήρ and θύρα.

The interchanges which take place between the T and D, and the liquids

L, N, R, can be accounted for on the grammatical principle,[70] which is

so constantly exemplified in the literal changes of the Semitic

languages, that letters articulated by the same organ are frequently put

one for the other. Now D, T, L, N are all palatals, and in the

pronunciation of R also some use is made of the palate. Hence we find a

commutation of _r_ and _n_ in δωρον, _donum_; _æreus_, _æneus_; of _t_

and _l_ in θώρηξ and _lorica_; _d_ and _l_ in olfacio and odere facio,

Ulysses and Οδυσσεύς; _r_ and _d_ in _auris_ and _audio_, _arfuise_, and

_adfuisse_.

To the remaining liquid, _m_, little value seems to have been attached

in Latin. In verse it was elided before a vowel; in verbs it was

universally omitted from the first person of the present tense, although

it was originally its characteristic, and was only retained in _sum_ and

_inquam_: it was also omitted in other words, as _omne_ for _omnem_;[71]

and Cato the Censor was in the habit of putting _dice_ and _facie_ for

_dicam_(or _dicem_) and _faciam_ (_faciem_.)

As the Roman _x_ was nothing more than a double letter compounded of _g_

or _c_ and _s_, as _rego_, _regsi_, _rexi_; _dico_, _dicsi_, _dixi_, the

only consonant now remaining for consideration is the sibilant _s_. The

principal position which it occupies in Latin is as corresponding to the

aspirate in Greek words derived from the same Pelasgic roots. Thus ὓς,

ἓξ, ὓλη, &c., are represented by _sus_, _sex_, _silva_. This may

possibly be accounted for by the fact that S is in reality a very

powerful aspirate. It is only necessary to try the experiment, in order

to prove that a strong expiration produces a hissing sound. Those words

which in classical Greek are written without an aspirate, such as εἰ,

ἄναξ, &c., which, nevertheless, have an _s_ in Latin, as si, senex, &c.,

may possibly have been at one period pronounced with the stronger

breathing. The most remarkable change, however, which has taken place

with respect to this letter, in the transition from the old to the

classical Latin, is the substitution of _r_ for _s_. Thus _Fusius_,

_Papisius_, _eso_, _arbos_, &c., become _Furius_, _Papirius_, _ero_,

_arbor_, &c.

The following table exhibits the principal changes undergone by the

vowels and diphthongs:—

_In modern Latin._ _In ancient Latin._

E was represented by i, sometimes u, as luci, condumnari,

I was represented by u, ei, e, o optume, nominus, preivatus,

dedit, senatuos.

U was represented by oi, ou, o quoius, ploirume, douco, honc.

Æ was represented by ai Aidiles.

Πwas represented by oi proilium.

The vowels were sometimes doubled, as leegi, luuci, haace.[72]

In the grammatical inflexions, the principal difference between the old

and the new Latin is, that in nouns the old forms were longer, and

assumed their modern form by a process of contraction, and that the

ablative ended in _d_, as _Gnaivod_, _sententiad_; consequently the

adverbial termination was the same as _suprad_, _bonod_, _malod_. The

same termination appears in the form of _tod_ in the singular number of

the imperative mood.

CHAPTER III.

SATURNIAN METRE—OPINIONS RESPECTING ITS ORIGIN—EARLY EXAMPLES OF THIS

METRE—SATURNIAN BALLADS IN LIVY—STRUCTURE OF THE VERSE—INSTANCES OF

RHYTHMICAL POETRY.

The origin and progress of the Roman language have now been briefly

traced, by the help of existing monuments, from the earliest dawn of its

existence, when the fusion of its discordant elements was so incomplete

as to be scarcely intelligible, to the period when even in the unadorned

form of public records it began to assume a classical shape. But such an

analysis will not be complete without some account of the verse in which

the earliest national poetry was composed.

The oldest measure used by the Latin poets was the Saturnian. According

to Hermann,[73] there is no doubt that it was derived from the

Etruscans, and that long before the fountains of Greek literature were

opened; the strains of the Italian bards flowed in this metre, until

Ennius introduced the heroic hexameter. The grammarian Diomedes[74]

attributed the invention of it to Nævius, and seems to imply that the

Roman poet derived the idea from the Greeks, for his theory is, that he

formed the verse by adding a syllable to the Iambic trimeter.

Terentianus Maurus, as well as Atilius, professed to find verses of this

kind in the tragedies of Euripides and the odes of Callimachus, and

Servius and Censorinus attempted to analyze the Saturnian according to

the strict rules of Greek prosody; but they were obliged to permit every

conceivable license, and to make Roman rudeness an excuse for a

violation of those rules which they themselves had arbitrarily imposed.

The opinion of Bentley was, that it was a Greek metre introduced into

Italy by Nævius.[75] The only argument in favour of the latter theory is

the fact that the Saturnian is found amongst the verses of Archilochus;

but many circumstances, which shall hereafter be pointed out, combine to

make it far more probable that the use of it by the Greek poet is an

accidental coincidence, than that the old Roman bards copied it from

him.

Whatever be its history, there can be no doubt that, if it did not

originate in Italy, its rhythm in very early times recommended itself to

the Italian ear, and became the recognised vehicle of their national

poetry. A rude resemblance of it is discernible in the Eugubine tables;

it had obtained a more advanced degree of perfection in the Arvalian

chants, and the _axamenta_[76] or Salian hymns. Examples of it are found

in fragments of Roman laws, which Livy[77] refers to the reign of Tullus

Hostilius, and Cicero[78] to that of Tarquinius Priscus. The epitaphs of

the Scipios are in fact Saturnian næniæ. Ennius, whose era was

sufficiently early for him to know that Nævius, instead of being the

inventor of a new verse, or the introducer of a Greek one, followed the

example of his predecessors, finds fault with the antiquated rudeness of

his Saturnians.

Scripsere alii rem

Versibus quos olim Fauni Vatesque canebant

Quom neque Musarum scopulos quisquam superarat,

Nec dicti studiosus erat.

Some in such verses wrote,

As sung the Fauns and Bards in olden times,

When none had scaled the Muses’ rocky heights

Or studied graceful diction.

Had the Saturnian been introduced from Greece, Ennius would not have

denied to it the inspiration of the Muses, or have doubted that its

birthplace was on the rocky peaks of Parnassus, nor would his ear,

attuned to the varied melody of Greek poetry, have been unconscious of

its simple and natural rhythm, and have entirely rejected it for the

more ponderous and grandiloquent hexameter. The truth is, the taste

which was formed by the study of Greek letters created a prejudice

against the old national verse. As it was not Greek, it was pronounced

rough and unmusical, and was exploded as old-fashioned. The well-known

passage of Horace represents the prevailing feeling, although he says

that the Saturnian remained long after the introduction of the

hexameter, and that, even in his own day, when Virgil had brought the

Latin hexameter to the highest degree of perfection, a few traces of

that old long-lost poetry, which Cicero[79] wished for back again, might

still be discovered:—

Græcia capta ferum victorem cepit et artes

Intulit agresti Latio. Sic horridus ille

Defluxit numerus Saturnius, et grave virus

Munditiæ pepulere: sed in longum tamen ævum

Manserunt, hodieque manent vestigia ruris.

_Ep._ II., ii. 156.

Some passages of Livy bear evident marks of having been originally

portions of Saturnian ballads, although the historian has mutilated the

metre by the process of translating them into more modern Latin. The

prophetic warning of C. Marcius[80] has been thus restored by Hermann

with but slight alteration of the words of Livy:

Amnén, Trojúgena, Cánnam fuge, ne te alienigenæ

Cogánt in cámpo Díomedéi manús consérere;

Sed nec credes tu mihi, donec complessis sangui

Campum, miliaque multa occisa tua tetulerit

Is amnis in portum magnum ex terra frugifera.

Piscibus avibus ferisque quæ incolunt terras, eis

Fuat esca carnis tua; ita Juppiter mihi fatus.

The oracle which tradition recorded as having been brought from Delphi

respecting the waters of the Alban lake[81] was evidently embodied in a

Saturnian poem, probably the composition of the same Marcius, or one of

his contemporaries, such as Fabius Pictor, Cincius Alimentus, or

Acilius. This lay has also been conjecturally restored by Hermann.

Romane aquam Albanam lacu cave contineri,

Cave in mare immanare suopte flumine siris;

Missam manu per agros rigassis, dissipatam

Rivis extinxis, tum tu insistito hostium audax

Muris memor, quam per tot annos circum obsides

Urbem, ex ea tibi his, quæ nunc panduntur fatis,

Victoriam datam; bello perfecto donum

Amplum ad mea victor templa portato; sacra patria

Nec curata instaurato, utique adsolitum, facito.

In later times Livius Andronicus translated the whole Odyssey into

Saturnians, and Nævius wrote in the same metre a poem consisting of

seven books, the subject of which was the first Punic war. Detached

fragments of both these have been preserved by Aulus Gellius, Priscian,

Festus, and others, which have been collected together by Hermann.[82]

The structure of the Saturnian is very simple, and its rhythmical

arrangement is found in the poetry of every age and country.

Macaulay[83] quotes the following Saturnians from the poem of the Cid

and from the Nibelungen-Lied—

Estás nuevás a mío | Cíd erán venídas

A mí lo dían; á ti | dán las órejádas.

Man móhte míchel wúnder | vón Sifríde ságen

Wa ích den kúnic vínde | dás sol mán mir ságen.

He adds, also, an example of a perfect Saturnian, the following line

from the well known nursery song—

The quéen was ín her párlour | eáting breád and hóney.

It was the metre naturally adapted to the national mode of dancing, in

which each alternate step strongly marked the time,[84] and the

rhythmical beat was repeated in a series of three bars, which gave to

the dance the appellation of tripudium.

The Saturnian consists of two parts, each containing three feet, which

fall upon the ear with the same effect as Greek trochees. The whole is

preceded by a syllable in thesis technically called an anacrusis. For

example—

Sum|más o|pés qui | régum ‖ régi|ás re|frégit ‖

The metre in its original form was perfectly independent of the rules of

Greek prosody; its only essential requisite was the beat or ictus on the

alternate syllable or its representative. The only law to regulate the

stress was that of the common popular pronunciation. In fact, stress

occupied the place of quantity. Two or three syllables, which, according

to the rules of prosody would be long by position, might be slurred over

or pronounced rapidly in the time of one, as in the following line:—

Amném Trojúgena Cánnam | fúge ne té alienígenæ.

Thus it is clear that the principles which regulated it were those of

modern versification, without any of the niceties and delicacies of

Greek quantity.

The anacrusis resembles the introductory note to a musical air, and does

not interfere with the essential quality of the verse, namely, the three

beats twice repeated, any more than it does in English poems, in which

octosyllabic lines, having the stress on the even places, are

intermingled with verses of seven syllables, as in the following passage

of Milton’s L’Allegro:—

Come and trip it as you go

On the light fantastic toe,

And in thy right hand lead with thee

The mountain nymph, sweet Liberty;

And if I give thee honour due,

Mirth, admit me of thy crew.

It is remarkable that in the degenerate periods of Latin literature,

there was a return to the same old rhythmical principles which gave

birth to the Saturnian verse: ictus was again substituted for quantity,

and the Greek rules of prosody were neglected for a rhythm consisting of

alternate beats, which pervades most modern poetry.

The empire had become so extensive, that the taste of the people,

especially of the provincials, was no longer regulated by that of the

capital, and emphasis and accent became, instead of metrical quantity,

the general rule of pronunciation. This was the origin of rhythmical

poetry. Traces of it may be found as early as the satirical verses of

Suetonius on J. Cæsar.

It is the metre of the little jeu d’esprit addressed by the emperor

Hadrian to Florus—[85]

Ego nolo Florus esse

Ambulare per tabernas

Latitare per popinas

Culices pati rotundos;

and also of the historian’s repartee—

Ego nolo Cæsar esse

Ambulare per Britannos

Scythicas pati pruinas.

The simple grandeur of such strains as—

Dies iræ, dies illa,

Solvet sæclum in favilla, &c.

and other monkish hymns, go far to rescue the old Saturnian from the

charge of ruggedness and rusticity ascribed to it by Horace and others,

whose taste was formed by Greek poetry, and whose fastidious ears could

not brook any harmony but that which had been consecrated to the

outpourings of Greek genius.

From this species of verse, which probably prevailed among the natives

of Provence (the Roman Provincia) the Troubadours derived the metre of

their ballad poetry, and thence introduced it into the rest of Europe.

But whatever phases the external form of ancient poetry underwent, the

classical writers both of Greece and Rome eschewed rhyme. Even to a

modern ear the beautiful effect of the ancient metres is entirely

destroyed by it. It was a false taste and a less refined ear which could

accept it as a compensation for the imperfections of prosody.

Although rhyme was introduced as an embellishment of verses framed on

the principle of ictus, and not of quantity, at a very early period of

Christian Latin literature, it is not quite certain when it came to be

added as a new difficulty to the metres of classical antiquity. It is

recorded by Gray[86] that when the children educated in the monastery of

St. Gall addressed a Bishop of Constance on his first visitation with

expostulatory orations, the younger ones recited the following doggerel

rhymes:—

Quid tibi fecimus tale ut nobis facias male

Appellamus regem quia nostram fecimus legem.

The elder and more advanced students spoke in rhyming hexameters:—

Non nobis pia spes fuerat cum sis novus hospes

Ut vetus in pejus transvertere tute velis jus.

CHAPTER IV.

THREE PERIODS OF ROMAN CLASSICAL LITERATURE—ITS ELEMENTS RUDE—ROMAN

RELIGION—ETRUSCAN INFLUENCE—EARLY HISTORICAL MONUMENTS—FESCENNINE

VERSES—FABULÆ ATELLANÆ—INTRODUCTION OF STAGE PLAYERS—DERIVATION OF

SATIRE.

The era during which Roman classical literature commenced, arrived at

perfection, and declined, may be conveniently divided into three

periods. The first of these embraces its rise and progress, such traces

as are discoverable of oral and traditional compositions, the rude

elements of the drama, the introduction of Greek literature, and the

cultivation of the national taste in accordance with this model, the

infancy of eloquence, and the construction and perfection of comedy.

To this period the first five centuries of the republic may be

considered as introductory; the groundwork and foundation were then

being gradually laid on which the superstructure was built up; for,

properly speaking, Rome had no literature until the conclusion of the

first Punic war.[87]

Independently therefore of these 500 years, this period consists of 160

years extending from the time when Livius Andronicus flourished[88] to

the first appearance of Cicero in public life.[89]

The second period ends with the death of Augustus.[90] It comprehends

the age of which Cicero is the representative, as the most accomplished

orator, philosopher, and prose writer of his times, as well as that of

Augustus, which is commonly called the golden age of Latin poetry.

The third and last period of Roman classical literature terminates with

the death of Hadrian.[91] Notwithstanding the numerous excellencies

which will be seen to distinguish the literature of this period, its

decline had evidently commenced. It missed the patronage of Augustus and

his refined court, and was chilled by the baneful influence of his

tyrannical successors. As the age of Augustus has been distinguished by

the epithet “golden,” so the succeeding period has been, on account of

its comparative inferiority, designated as “the silver age.”

The Romans, like all other nations, had oral poetical compositions

before they possessed any written literature. Cicero, in three

places,[92] speaks of the banquet being enlivened by the songs of bards,

in which the exploits of heroes were recited and celebrated. By these

lays national pride and family vanity were gratified, and the anecdotes

thus preserved by memory furnished the sources of early legendary

history.

But these lays and legends must not be compared to those of Greece,

which had probably taken an epic form long before they furnished the

groundwork of the Iliad and the Odyssey. In Roman tradition there are no

traces of elevated genius or poetical inspiration. The religious

sentiment was the fertile source of Greek fancy, which gave a

supernatural glory to the effusions of the bard, painted men as heroes,

and heroes as deities; and, whilst it was the natural growth of the

Greek intellect, twined itself round the affections of the whole people.

Roman religion was a ceremonial for the priests, not for the people; and

its poetry was merely formulæ in verse, and soared no higher than the

semi-barbarous ejaculations of the Salian priests or the Arvalian

brotherhood. Fabulous legends doubtless formed the groundwork of

history, and therefore probably constituted the festive entertainments

to which Cicero alludes; but they were rude and simple, and the

narratives founded upon them, which are embodied in the pages of Livy

and others, are as much improved by the embellishments of the historian,

as these in their turn have been expanded by the poetic talent of

Macaulay.

It is scarcely possible to conceive that the uncouth literature which

was contemporary with such rude relics as have come down to modern times

should have displayed a higher degree of imaginative power. A few simple

descriptive lines, one or two animating and heart-stirring sentiments,

and no more, would be tolerated as an interruption to the grosser

pleasures of the table amongst a rude and boisterous people. The Romans

were men of actions, not of words; their intellect, though vigorous, was

essentially of a practical character: it was such as to form warriors,

statesmen, jurists, orators, but not poets; in the highest sense of the

word, _i. e._ if by poetic talent is meant the creative faculty of the

imagination. The Roman mind possessed the germs of those faculties which

admit of cultivation and improvement, such as taste and genius, and the

appreciation of the beautiful, and their endowments rendered them

capable of attaining literary excellence; it did not possess the natural

gifts of fancy and imagination, which were part and parcel of the Greek

mind, and which made them in a state of infancy, almost of barbarism, a

poetical people.

With the Romans literature was not of spontaneous growth: it was the

result of external influence. It is impossible to fix the period at

which they first became subject to this influence, but it is clear that

in everything mental and spiritual their neighbours the Etruscans were

their teachers. The influence exercised by this remarkable people was

not only religious, but moral: its primary object was discipline, its

secondary one refinement. If it cultivated the intellectual powers, it

was with a view to disciplining the moral faculties. To this pure

culture the old Roman character owed its vigour, its honesty, its

incorruptible sternness, and those virtues which are summed up in the

comprehensive and truly Roman word “gravitas.” History proves that these

qualities had a real existence—that they were not the mere ideal

phantasies of those who loved to praise times gone by. The error into

which those fell who mourned over the loss of the old Roman discipline,

and lamented the degeneracy of their own times, was, that they

attributed this degeneracy to the onward march of refinement and

civilization, and not to the accidental circumstance that this march was

accompanied by profligacy and effeminacy, and that the race which was

the dispensers of these blessings was a corrupt and degenerate one. They

could not separate the causes and the effects; they did not see that

Rome was intellectually advanced by Greek literature, but that

unfortunately it was degraded at the same time by Greek profligacy.

For centuries the Roman mind was imbued with Etruscan literature; and

Livy[93] asserts that, just as Greek was in his own day, it continued to

be the instrument of Roman education during five centuries after the

foundation of the city.

The tendency of the Roman mind was essentially utilitarian. Even Cicero,

with all his varied accomplishments, will recognise but one end and

object of all study, namely, those sciences which will render a man

useful to his country:—“Quid esse igitur censes discendum nobis?... Eas

artes quæ efficiunt ut usui civitati simus; id enim esse præclarissimum

sapientiæ munus maximumque virtutis vel documentum vel officium

puto.”[94] We must, therefore, expect to find the law of literary

development modified in accordance with this ruling principle. From the

very beginning, the final cause of Roman literature will be found to

have been a view to utility, and not the satisfaction of an impulsive

feeling.

In other nations poetry has been the first spontaneous production. With

the Romans the first literary effort was history. But their early

history consisted simply of annals and memorials—records of facts, not

of ideas or sentiments. It was calculated to form a storehouse of

valuable materials for future ages, but it had no impress of genius or

thought; its merits were truth and accuracy; its very facts were often

frivolous and unimportant, neither rendered interesting as narratives,

nor illustrated by reflections. These original documents were elements

of literature rather than deserving the name of literature

itself—antiquarian rather than historical. The earliest records of this

kind were the _Libri Lintei_—manuscripts written on rolls of linen

cloth, to which Livy refers as containing the first treaty between Rome

and Carthage, and the truce made with Ardea and Gabii.[95] To these may

be added the _Annales Maximi_, or _Commentarii Pontificum_, of the

minute accuracy of which, the following account is given by Servius.[96]

“Every year the chief pontiff inscribed on a white tablet, at the head

of which were the names of the consuls and other magistrates, a daily

record of all memorable events both at home and abroad. These

commentaries or registers were afterwards collected into eighty books,

which were entitled by their authors _Annales Maximi_.”

Similar notes of the year were kept regularly from the earliest periods

by the civil magistrates, and are spoken of by Latin authors under the

titles of _Commentarii Consulares_, _Libri Prætorum_, and _Tabulæ

Censoriæ_. All these records, however, which were anterior to the

capture of Rome by the Gauls, perished in the conflagration of the city.

Each patrician house, also, had its private family history, and the

laudatory orations said to have been recited at the funerals of

illustrious members, were carefully preserved, as adorning and

illustrating their nobility; but this heraldic literature obscured

instead of throwing a light upon history: it was filled with false

triumphs, imaginary consulships, and forged genealogies.[97]

The earliest attempt at poetry, or rather versification, for it was

simply the outward form and not the inward spirit which the rude

inhabitants of Latium attained, was satire in somewhat of a dramatic

form. _The Fescennine songs_ were metrical, for the accompaniments of

music and dancing necessarily subjected their extemporaneous effusions

to the restrictions of a rude measure. Like the first theatrical

exhibitions of the Greeks, they had their origin, not in towns, but

amongst the rural population. They were not, like Greek tragedy,

performed in honour of a deity, nor did they form a portion of a

religious ceremonial. Still, however, they were the accompaniment of it,

the pastime of the village festival. Religion was the excuse for the

holiday sport, and amusement its natural occupation. At first they were

innocent and gay, their mirth overflowed in boisterous but good-humoured

repartee; but liberty at length degenerated into license, and gave birth

to malicious and libellous attacks on persons of irreproachable

character.[98] As the licentiousness of Greek comedy provoked the

interference of the legislature, so the laws of the Twelve Tables

forbade the personalities of the Fescennine verses.

This infancy of song illustrates the character of the Romans in its

rudest and coarsest form. They loved strife, both bodily and mental:

with them the highest exercise of the intellect was in legal conflict

and political debate; and, on the same principle, the pleasure which the

spectators in the rural theatre derived from this species of attack and

defence, approached somewhat nearly to the enthusiasm with which they

would have witnessed an exhibition of gladiatorial skill. The rustic

delighted in the strife of words as he would in the wrestling matches

which also formed a portion of his day’s sports, and thus early

displayed that taste, which, in more polished ages, and in the hands of

cultivated poets, was developed in the sharp cutting wit, the lively but

piercing points of Roman satire.

The Fescennine verses show that the Romans possessed a natural aptitude

for satire. The pleasure derived from this species of writing, as well

as the moral influence exercised by it, depends not upon an æsthetic

appreciation of the beautiful, but on a high sense of moral duty; and

such a sense displays itself in a stern and indignant abhorrence of vice

rather than a disposition to be attracted by the charms and loveliness

of virtue. The Romans were a stern, not an æsthetic people, consequently

satire is the most original of all Roman literature, and the perfect and

polished form which it afterwards assumed was entirely their own. They

did, indeed, afterwards acutely observe and readily seize upon those

parts of Greek literature which were subservient to this end, and hence

Lucilius, the founder of Roman satire, eagerly adopted the models and

materials which Greek comedy placed at his disposal, and thus became, as

Horace[99] writes, a disciple of Eupolis, Cratinus, and Aristophanes.

So permanent was the popularity of these entertainments that they even

survived the introduction of Greek letters, and received a polish and

refinement from the change which then took place in the spirit of the

national poetry.[100] It has been said, that in these rude elements of

the drama, Etruria was the first teacher of Latium, and that the

epithet, Fescennine, perpetuates the name of an Etrurian village,

Fescennia, from which the amusement derived its origin; but Niebuhr has

shown that Fescennia was not an Etruscan village, and, therefore, that

this etymology is untenable.

The most probable etymology of the word Fescennine is one given by

Festus.[101] Fascinium was the Greek Phallus, the emblem of fertility;

and as the origin of Greek comedy was derived from the rustic Phallic

songs, so he considers that the same ceremonial may be, in some way,

connected with the Fescennine verses. If this be the true account, the

Etruscans furnished the spectacle—all that which addresses itself to the

eye, whilst the habits of Italian rural life supplied the sarcastic

humour and ready extemporaneous gibe, which are the essence of the true

comic; and these combined elements having migrated from the country to

the capital, and being enthusiastically adopted by young men of more

refined taste and more liberal education, afterwards paved the way for

the introduction and adaptation of Greek comedy.

If in these improvisatory dialogues may be discerned the germ of the

Roman Comic Drama, the next advance in point of art must be attributed

to the Oscans. Their quasi-dramatic entertainments were most popular

amongst the Italian nations. They represented in broad caricature

national peculiarities: the language of the dialogue was, of course,

originally Oscan, the characters of the drama were Oscan likewise.[102]

The principal one was called Macchus, whose part was that of the Clown

in the modern pantomime. Another was termed Bucco, who was a kind of

Pantaloon, or charlatan. Much of the wit consisted in practical jokes

like that of the Italian Polichinello. These entertainments were

sometimes called Ludi Osci, but they are more commonly known by the

title of Fabulæ Atellanæ, from Aderla,[103] or, as the Romans pronounced

it, Atella, a town in Campania, where they were very popular, or perhaps

first performed. After their introduction at Rome they underwent great

modifications and received important improvements. They lost their

native rusticity; their satire was good natured; their jests were

seemly, and kept in check by the laws of good taste, and were free from

scurrility or obscenity.[104] They seem in later times to have been

divided, like comedies, into five acts, with exodia,[105] _i. e._

farcical interludes in verse, interspersed between them. Nor were they

acted by the common professional performers. The Atellan actors[106]

formed a peculiar class; they were not considered infamous, nor were

they excluded from the tribes, but enjoyed the privilege of immunity

from military service. Even a private Roman citizen might take a part in

them without disgrace or disfranchisement, although these were the

social penalties imposed upon the regular _histrio_. The Fabulæ Atellanæ

introduced thus early remained in favour for centuries. The dictator

Sylla is said to have amused his leisure hours in writing them; and

Suetonius bears testimony to their having been a popular amusement under

the empire.

As early, however, as the close of the fourth century, the drama took a

more artificial form. In the consulship of C. Sulpicius Peticus and C.

Dicinius Stolo,[107] a pestilence devastated Rome. In order to deprecate

the anger of the gods, a solemn lectisternium was proclaimed; couches of

marble were prepared, with cushions and coverlets of tapestry, on which

were placed the statues of the deities in a reclining posture. Before

them were placed well-spread tables, as though they were able to partake

of the feast. On this occasion a company of stage-players (_histriones_)

were sent for from Etruria, as a means, according to Livy[108] of

propitiating the favour of Heaven; but probably also for the wiser

purpose of diverting the popular mind from the contemplation of their

own suffering. These entertainments were a novelty to a people whose

only recognised public sports, up to that time, with the exception of

the rural drama already described, had been trials of bodily strength

and skill. The exhibitions of the Etruscan histriones consisted of

graceful national dances, accompanied with the music of the flute, but

without either songs or dramatic action. They were, therefore, simply

_ballets_, and not _dramas_.

Thus the Etruscans furnished the suggestion: the Romans improved upon

it, and invested it with a dramatic character. They combined the old

Fescennine songs with the newly introduced dances. The varied metres

which the unrestrained nature of their rude verse permitted to the vocal

parts, gave to this mixed entertainment the name of satura (a

hodge-podge or pot-pourri,) from which in after times the word satire

was derived. The actors in these quasi-dramas were professed histriones,

and no further alteration took place until that introduced by Livius

Andronicus.

CHAPTER V.

EMANCIPATION OF LIVIUS ANDRONICUS—HIS IMITATION OF THE ODYSSEY—NEW KIND

OF SCENIC EXHIBITIONS—FIRST EXHIBITION OF HIS DRAMAS—NÆVIUS A POLITICAL

PARTISAN—HIS BITTERNESS—HIS PUNIC WAR—HIS NATIONALITY—HIS VERSIFICATION.

LIVIUS ANDRONICUS (FLOURISHED ABOUT B. C. 240.)

The events already related had by this time prepared the Roman people

for the reception of a more regular drama, when, at the conclusion of

the first Punic War, the influence of Greek intellect, which had already

long been felt in Italy, extended to the capital. But not only did the

Romans owe to Greece the principles of literary taste, and the original

models from which the elements of that taste were derived, but their

first and earliest poet was one of that nation. Livius Andronicus,

although born in Italy, educated in the Latin tongue at Rome, and

subsequently a naturalized Roman, is generally supposed to have been a

native of the Greek colony of Tarentum. He was a man of cultivated mind,

and well versed in the literature of his nation, especially in dramatic

poetry. How he came to be at Rome in the condition of a slave, it is

impossible to say. Attius stated that he was taken prisoner at Tarentum

by Q. Fabius Maximus, when he recovered that city, in the tenth year of

the second Punic War. But Cicero shows, on the authority of Atticus,

that this date is thirty years later than the period at which he first

exhibited at Rome, and Niebuhr[109] considers that the reason why he is

called a Tarentine captive is, from being confounded with one M. Livius

Macatus, mentioned by Livy.[110] He may perhaps have owed his change of

fortune to being made a prisoner of war; at any rate, he became one of

the household of M. Livius Salinator, and occupied the confidential

position of instructor to his children. The employment as tutors of

Greek slaves, who, being men of education and refinement, had fallen

into this position by the fortune of war, was customary with the wealthy

Romans. By this means there was rapidly introduced amongst the rising

generation of the higher classes a knowledge of that language and

learning which the Romans so eagerly embraced and so enthusiastically

admired.

Fidelity in so important a situation generally gained the esteem and

affection of the patron. The generous Roman became a protector of the

man of genius rather than his master, and conferred upon him the gift of

freedom. Andronicus was emancipated under such circumstances as these,

and according to custom received the name of his former master, Livius,

and his civil and political rank became that of an ærarius. He wrote a

translation, or perhaps an imitation of the Odyssey, in the old

Saturnian metre, and also a few hymns. Niebuhr supposes that the reason

why he has translated or epitomized the Odyssey in preference to the

Iliad is, that it would have greater attractions for the Romans, in

consequence of the relation which it bore to the ancient legends of

Italy. The sea which washes the coast of Italy was the scene of many of

the most marvellous adventures of Ulysses. Sicily, in which, owing to

the wars with Hiero and the Carthaginians, the Romans now began to take

a lively interest, was represented in the Odyssey as abounding in the

elements of poetry. Circe’s fairy abode was within sight of land—a

promontory of Latium bore her name, and one of Ulysses’ sons by her was,

according to the legend of Hesiod, Latinus, the patriarch of the Latin

name. His principal works, however, were tragedies. The passion of the

Romans for shows and exhibitions, the love of action, and of stirring

business-like occupation, which characterizes them, would make the drama

popular, and it would harmonize with the public entertainments, in which

they had been accustomed to take pleasure from the earliest times, when

tradition informs us that the founder of their race instituted the

solemn games to the equestrian Neptune, and invited all the neighbours

to the spectacle;[111] and when Ancus celebrated with unwonted splendour

the Great Games, and appointed separate seats and boxes for the knights

and senators.[112] It was probable that Livius Andronicus, coming

forward as the introducer of a new era in literature, would study the

character as well as the language of his newly-adopted countrymen, and

endeavour to please them as well as teach them. In order to become

eventually a leader of the public taste, he would at first fall in with

it to a certain degree. The process by which he moulded it after the

model which he considered the true one, would be gentle and gradual, not

sudden and abrupt. The paucity and brevity of the fragments which are

extant furnish but little opportunity for forming an accurate estimate

of his ability as a poet, and his competency to guide and form the taste

of a people. Hermann[113] has collected together the fragments of the

Latin Odyssey which are scattered through the works of Gellius,

Priscian, Festus, Nonius, and others, and has compared them with the

Homeric passages of which they are the translations. Few of these,

however, are longer than a single line; and, therefore, the only opinion

which can be formed respecting them is, that although the versification

is rough and rhythmical rather than metrical, the language is vigorous

and expressive, and conveys, as far as a translation can, the force and

meaning of the original.

Nor do the criticisms of the ancient classical authors furnish much

assistance in coming to a decision. Their tastes were so completely

Greek, and the prejudices of their education so strong, that they could

scarcely confess the existence of excellence in a poet so old as

Andronicus. Cicero says in the Brutus,[114] that his Latin Odyssey was

as old-fashioned and rude as would have been the sculptures of Dædalus,

and that his dramas would not bear a second perusal. Horace, however, is

not quite so sweeping in his strictures. He confesses that he would not

condemn the poems of Livius[115] to utter oblivion, although he

remembers them in connexion with the floggings of his schoolmaster; but

he is surprised that any one should consider them polished and

beautiful, and not falling far short of critical exactness.

A passage in the history of Livy seems to imply that Andronicus ventured

upon some deviations from the ancient plan of scenic exhibitions.[116]

According to him, Livius was the first who substituted, for the rude

extemporaneous effusions of the Fescennine verse, plays with a regular

plot and fable. He adds, that in consequence of losing his voice from

being frequently encored, he obtained permission to introduce a boy to

sing the ode, or air, to the accompaniment of the flute, whilst he

himself represented the action of the song by his gestures and dancing.

He was thus enabled to depict the subject with greater vigour and

freedom of pantomimic action, because he was unimpeded by the obligation

to use his voice. Hence the custom began of the actor responding by his

gesticulation to the song and music of another, whilst the dialogue

between the odes was delivered without any musical accompaniment.

The passage of which the above is a paraphrase, is as follows:—“Livius

post aliquot annos qui ab saturis ausus est primus argumento fabulam

serere (idem scilicet, id quod omnes tum erant, suorum carminum actor)

dicitur, quum sæpius revocatus vocem obtudisset, veniâ petitâ, puerum ad

canendum ante tibicinem quum statuisset, canticum egisse aliquanto magis

vigente motu, quia nihil vocis usus impediebat. Inde ad manum cantari

histrionibus cæptum, diverbiaque tantum ipsorum voci relicta.” It is

evident that this description points out the introduction of the

principles of Greek art. We are reminded of the hyporchemes in honour of

Apollo, in which the gestures of certain members of the chorus

represented the incidents related or sentiments expressed by the singer,

and also the separation of the choral or musical part from the dialogue

of a Greek tragedy. Nevertheless, the choral or lyrical portion of the

drama to which alone this novel practice introduced by Livius applies,

found but a small part in a Latin tragedy, if compared with those of the

Greeks. In this alone the poet himself sustained a part, whilst the

whole of the dialogue (diverbia) was recited by professional performers.

This new style of dramatic performances, however, does not appear at

first to have taken such hold upon the affections of the people as to

supersede their old amusements. They admitted them, and witnessed them

with pleasure and applause, but they would not give up the old. The

young men wished their amusements to be really games and sports; they

were not content to be merely quiet spectators. Extemporaneous effusions

were more convenient for amateurs than regular plays, and joke and jest

than tragic earnest. The new custom introduced by Livius elevated the

drama above the region of ribaldry and laughter, but the art and skill

requisite confined the work to the professional performer. The young

Romans, therefore, left to the stage-player the regular drama, restored

their old amusement as an exodium or after-piece, and did not suffer it,

as Livy says, to be “polluted” by the interference of _histriones_.

According to the testimony of Cicero,[117] who makes his statement on

the authority of Atticus, Livius first exhibited his dramas in the year

before the birth of Ennius, in the consulship of C. Clodius and M.

Tuditanus, A. U. C. 514.[118] This date is also adopted by Aulus

Gellius,[119] who places his first dramatic representations about a

hundred and sixty years after the death of Sophocles, and fifty-two

years after that of Menander. The titles of his tragedies which are

extant show that they were translations or adaptations from the Greek.

Amongst them are those of Egisthus, Hermione, Tereus, Ajax, and Helena.

From each of the last two one line is preserved, and four lines are

quoted by Terentianus Maurus from his tragedy of Ino;[120] but the

language and metre render it far more probable that they were written by

some more modern poet. Two of his tragedies, the Clytemnestra and the

Trojan Horse, were acted in the second consulship of Pompey the Great,

at the inauguration of the splendid stone theatre[121] which he built.

No expense was spared in putting them upon the stage, for Cicero writes,

in a letter to M. Marius,[122] that three thousand bucklers, the spoils

of foreign nations, were exhibited in the latter, and a procession of

six hundred mules, probably richly caparisoned, were introduced in the

former, whilst cavalry and infantry, clad in various armour, mingled in

mimic combat on the scene. He considers, however, that this splendour

was an offence against good taste, and that the enjoyment was spoilt by

the gorgeousness of the spectacle. The taste of his patrons, the Roman

people, as well as the testimony of antiquity, render it highly probable

that he was the author of comedies[123] as well as tragedies. Festus

speaks of one, of which he quotes a single line, for the sake of its

philological value.

CN. NÆVIUS.

Nævius was the first poet who really deserves the name of Roman. His

countrymen in all ages, as well as his contemporaries, looked upon him

as one of themselves. The probability is, that he was not actually born

at Rome, though even this has been maintained with some show of

plausibility.[124] He was, at any rate, by birth entitled to the

municipal franchise, and from his earliest boyhood was a resident in the

capital. Nor was he a mere servile imitator, but applied Greek taste and

cultivation to the development of Roman sentiments. A true Roman in

heart and spirit in his fearless attachment to liberty; his stern

opposition to all who dared invade the rights of his fellow-citizens; he

was unsparing in his censure of immorality, and his admiration for

heroic self-devotion. He was a soldier, and imbibed the free and martial

enthusiasm which breathes in his poems when he fought the battles of his

country in the first Punic War. His honest principles cemented, in his

later years, a strong friendship between him and the upright and

unbending Cato,[125]—a friendship which probably contributed to form the

political and literary character of that stern old Roman.

It is generally assumed that Nævius was a Campanian; but the only reason

for this assumption is, that A. Gellius[126] criticises his epitaph, of

which Nævius himself was the author, as full of Campanian pride.

The time of his birth is unknown, but it is probable that his public

career commenced within a very few years after that of Livius. Gellius

fixes the exhibition of his first drama in B. C. 235,[127] and Cicero

places his death in the consulship of M. Cornelius Cethegus and P.

Sempronius Tuditanus,[128] although he allows that Varro, who places it

somewhat later, is the most pains-taking of Roman antiquarians. It is

also certain that he died at an advanced age, for, according to Cicero,

he was an old man when he wrote one of his poems. He was the author of

an epic poem, the title of which was the Punic War; but, owing to the

popularity of dramatic literature, his earliest literary productions

were tragedies and comedies. The titles of most of these show that their

subjects were Greek legends or stories. It was, therefore, in his epic

poem that the acknowledged originality of his talents was mainly

displayed. Nævius was a strong political partisan, a warm supporter of

the people against the encroachments of the nobility. In consequence of

the expenditure during the war, great part of the population was reduced

to poverty, and a strong line of demarkation was drawn between the rich

and the poor. The estrangement and want of sympathy between those two

classes were daily increasing. The barrier of _caste_ was indeed almost

destroyed, but that of _class_ was beginning to be erected in its stead.

The passing of the Licinian bills[129] had led to the gradual rise of a

plebeian nobility. The Ogulnian law[130] had admitted patrician and

plebeian to a religious as well as political equality, and more than

three-quarters of a century had passed away since Appius Claudius the

blind[131] had given political existence to the freedmen by admitting

them into the tribes, and had even raised some whose fathers had been

freedmen to the rank of senators, to the exclusion of many distinguished

plebeians who had filled curule offices. The object which he proposed to

himself by this policy was undoubtedly the depression of the rising

plebeian nobility, and this object was for a time attained; but the

ultimate result was a vast increase in the numbers and the power of

those who were opposed to the old patrician nobility, by the formation

of a higher class, the only qualification for admission into which was

wealth and intelligence. According to the old distinctions of rank it

was necessary that even a plebeian should have a pedigree; his father

and grandfather must have been born free. Appius, when chosen for the

first time, waived this, and introduced a new principle of political

party. Of this anti-aristocratic party Nævius was the literary

representative, and the vehement opponent of privileges derived from the

accident of birth. His position, too, was calculated to provoke a man of

better temper. He was a Roman citizen, but, as a native of a municipal

town, he did not possess the full franchise which he saw enjoyed by

others around him who were intellectually inferior to himself, and the

sense of his political inferiority was galling to him. Accordingly he

used literature as a new and powerful instrument to foster the jealousy

which existed between the orders of the state. He attacked the principle

of an aristocracy of birth in the persons of some members of the most

distinguished families. He held up Scipio Africanus to ridicule by

making him the hero of a tale of scandal.

Etiam qui res magnas manu gessit sæpe gloriose,

Cujus facta viva nunc vigent, qui apud gentes solas

Præstat, eum suus pater cum pallio una ab amica abduxit.

The public services of the two Metelli could not shield them from the

poet’s bitterness, which attributed their consulships not to their own

merits, but to the mere will of fate.[132] One bitter sentence, “Fato

Metelli Romæ fiunt consules.” made that powerful family his enemies. The

Metellus, who at that time held the office of consul, threatened him

with vengeance for his slander in the following verse:—“Dabunt malum

Metelli Nævio poetæ.” and the offending poet was indicted for a libel,

in pursuance of a law of the Twelve Tables,[133] and thrown into prison.

Whilst there he composed two pieces, in which he expressed contrition;

and Plautus[134] describes him as watched by two jailers, pensively

resting his head upon his hands:—

Nam os columnatum poetæ esse inaudivi barbaro,

Quoi bini custodes semper totis horis accubant.

Through the influence of the tribunes he was set at liberty.[135] As,

however, is frequently the case, he could not resist indulging again in

his satiric vein, and he was exiled to Utica, where he died,[136] having

employed the last years of his life in writing his epic poem. The

following laudatory epitaph was written by himself:—

Mortales immortales flere si foret fas,

Flerent Divæ Camenæ Nævium poetam.

Itaque postquam est Orcino traditus thesauro

Obliti sunt Romani loquier Latinâ linguâ.

If gods might to a mortal pay the tribute of a tear,

The Muses would shed one upon the poet Nævius’ bier;

For when he was transferred unto the regions of the tomb,

The people soon forgot to speak the native tongue of Rome.

The best and most admired writers have paid their homage to his

excellence. Ennius and Virgil discovered in him such a freshness and

power that they unscrupulously copied and imitated him, and transferred

his thoughts into their own poems as they did those of Homer. Horace

writes that in his day the poems of Nævius were universally read, and

were in the hands and hearts of everybody, and Cicero[137] praises him,

although he had no taste for the old national literature.

We cannot be surprised at the universal popularity of Nævius. His stern

love of liberty, his unsparing opposition to aristocratic exclusiveness,

was identical with the old Roman republicanism. His taste for satire

exactly fell in with the spirit of the earliest Roman literature, whilst

he depicted with life and vigour and graphic skill the scenes of heroism

in which the soldier-poet of the first Punic War was himself an actor.

His tragedies were probably entirely taken from the Greek, but his

comedies had undoubted pretensions to originality. The titles of many of

them plainly show a Greek origin; but probably all more or less

presented pictures of Roman life and manners, and therefore went home to

the hearts of the people. This is essential to the complete

effectiveness of comedy. Tragedy appeals to higher feelings: it depicts

passions and principles of action which are recognised by the whole

human race; it may, therefore, enlist the sympathies on the side of

those whose habits and manners differ from our own, as it does in favour

of those characters which are of a heroic and superhuman mould. Comedy

professes to describe real life, and to paint men as they are; it

therefore loses part of its power unless it deals with scenes which the

experience of the audience can realize. Thus it is with painting. The

high art of the Italian school, which selected for its subjects the holy

scenes of religion, the heroism of history, and the creatures of

classical poetry, was fostered by the taste of the rich and noble

amongst a highly cultivated and imaginative people. The homely realities

of the Flemish painters, with their accurate and lifelike delineations,

were the delight of a rude prosaic nation, who could not appreciate a

more elevated style or understand ideal beauties unless brought down to

the level of every-day life.

The new form with which Nævius invested comedy gave him scope for

holding up to public scorn the prevailing vices and follies of the day.

He had also another vehicle for personality in his Ludi or Satiræ, as

they were termed by Cicero. These were comic scenes, and not regular

dramas, somewhat resembling the Atellan farces, without their

extemporaneous character. But his great work was his poem on the first

Punic War. We cannot judge of its merits by the few fragments which

remain; but the testimony borne to it by Cicero, and the use which was

made of it by Ennius and Virgil, prove that it fully deserved the title

of an epic poem. The idea was original, the plot and characters Roman.

The author, although Greek literature taught him how to be a poet, drew

his inspiration from the scenes of his native Italy and the exploits of

his countrymen. To this poem Virgil owed that beautiful allegorical

representation of the undying enmity between Rome and Carthage, and the

disastrous love of Æneas and Dido. Here was first painted in such

touching colours the self-devoted patriotism of Regulus, whom (although

love of historic truth refuses to believe the legend) the poet

represents as sacrificing home and wife and children to a sense of

honour, and as submitting to a torturing death for the sake of his

country. Probably many other heart-stirring legends and tales of prowess

which had cheered the nightly bivouac of the soldiers and inspirited

them in the field, were embodied in this popular epic. Not that he

disdained any more than Virgil the aid of Homer.[138] The second book of

the Iliad suggested to him the enumeration of the opposing forces at the

commencement of the struggle, and the description of the storm, from

which Virgil, in his turn, copied in the Æneid,[139] owes much of its

energy to the eighth book of the Odyssey. The expostulation of Venus

with the father of gods and men,[140] respecting the perils of her son,

and the promise of future prosperity to the descendants of Æneas, with

which Jupiter consoles her, as well as the address of Æneas to his

companions, are imitations of passages from this poem of Nævius; and

Ennius copied so much from him and his predecessors as to have provoked

the following rebuke from Cicero:[141]—“They have written well, if not

with all thy elegance, and so oughtest thou to think who have borrowed

so much from Nævius, if you confess that you have done so, or, if you

deny it, have stolen so much from him.”

The fragments of Nævius extant are not more numerous than those of

Livius, but some are rather longer. The two following may be quoted as

examples of simplicity and power:—

Amborum

Uxores noctu Troiad exibant capitibus

Opertis, flentes ambæ, abeuntes lacrymis multis.[142]

These few words tell their tale with as much pathos as that admired line

in the Andrian of Terence—

Rejecit se in eum flens quam familiariter.

The following lines describe the panic of the Carthaginians; nor could

any Roman poet have sketched the picture in fewer strokes or with more

suggestive power:—

Sic Poinei contremiscunt artibus universim;

Magnei metus tumultus pectora possidet

Cæsum funera agitant, exequias ititant,

Temulentiamque tollunt festam.[143]

Whoever can forgive roughness of expression for the sake of vigorous

thought, would, if more had remained, have read with delight the

inartificial although unpolished poetry of Nævius. Without that

elaborate workmanship which was to the Roman the only substitute for the

spontaneous grace and beauty of all that proceeded from the Greek mind,

and was expressed in the Greek tongue, there is no doubt that Nævius

displayed genius, originality, and dignity. The prejudices of Horace in

favour of Greek taste were too strong for him to value what was old in

poetry, or to sympathize with the admiration of that which the goddess

of death had consecrated.[144] But Cicero, whilst he attributed to

Livius only the mechanic skill and barbaric art of Dædalus, gave to

Nævius the creative talent and plastic power of Myron.

Even when Roman critics were not unanimous in assigning him a niche

amongst the greatest bards, the Roman people loved him as their national

poet, and were grateful to him for his nationality. They paid him the

highest compliment possible by retaining him as the educator of their

youth. Orbilius flogged his sentiments into his pupil’s memories; and,

whilst the niceties of grammar were taught through the instrumentality

of Greek by Greek instructors, and poetic taste was formed by a study of

the Homeric poems, Nævius still had the formation of the character of

the young Roman gentlemen, and his epic was in the hands and hearts of

every one.

One more subject remains to be treated of with reference to the literary

productions of Nævius, and that is, the metrical character of his

poetry. He appreciated that important element of Greek poetic beauty.

The varied versification by means of which it appeals at once to the

ear, just as physical beauty charms long before we are attracted by the

hidden power of moral excellence, and external form creates a prejudice

in favour of that which is of more intrinsic value, but cannot so

readily be perceived, so the melody of verse more readily pleases than

the beauty of the imagery and sentiments which the verses convey.

Nævius, therefore, did not disdain to recommend his original genius by a

study of the principles of Greek versification, and by clothing his

thoughts in those which his ear suggested as being most appropriate to

the occasion. He does not seem to have overcome the difficulties of the

heroic metre, although he studied the Homeric poems.

Probably as the Saturnian, the only natural Italian measure which he

found existing, was a triple time, the Roman ear could not at once adapt

itself to the common time of the dactylic measures. The versification of

our own country furnishes an analogous example. The usual metres of

English poetry consist of an alternation of long and short syllables;

dactyles and anapæsts are of less frequent occurrence and are of more

modern introduction, and the English ear is even yet not quite

accustomed to the hexametrical rhythm. The dignity of the epic is

expressed in the grave march of the iambus; the ballad tells its story

in the same metre, though in shorter lines; the joyous Anacreontic

adopts the dancing step of the trochee. For this reason, perhaps,

Nævius, as a matter of taste, limited himself to the introduction of

iambic and trochaic metres, and the irregular features of Greek lyric

poetry to the exclusion of the heroic hexameter.

It was long before the Romans could arrive at perfection in this metre.

Ennius was unsuccessful. His hexameters are rough and unmusical; he

seems never to have perfectly understood the nature and beauty of the

_cæsura_ or pause. The failure of Cicero, notwithstanding his natural

musical ear, is proverbial. No one previous to Virgil seems to have

overcome the difficulty. Versification seems always to have been

somewhat of a labour to the Romans. In the structure of their poetry

they worked by rule; their finish was artistic, but it was artificial.

Hence the Latin poet allowed himself less metrical liberty than the

Greek, whom he made his model. He seemed to feel that the Greek metres,

which the education of his taste had compelled him to adopt, were not

precisely the form into which Latin words naturally fell; that this

deficiency must be supplied by the care with which he moulded his verse,

according to the strictest possible standard. One can imagine the

extemporaneous effusions of a Homeric bard; but to Roman taste which, in

every literary work, especially in poetry, looked for elaborate finish,

the power of the improvisator, who could pour forth a hundred verses

standing on one foot, was a ridiculous pretension.[145]

As a general rule, no Roman poet attained facility in versification;

Ovid was perhaps the only exception. In the early period, when Roman

poetry was extemporaneous, their national verse was only rhythmical, and

now that modern Italy can boast of the faculty of improvisation, verse

has become rhythmical again. But although Nævius introduced a variety of

Greek metres to the Romans, the principal part of his poems, and

especially his national epic, were written in the old Saturnian measure:

its structure was indeed less rude, and its metre more regular and

scientific, but still he did not permit the new rules of Greek poetry to

banish entirely the favourite verses “in which in olden times Fauns and

bards sung,” and which would most acceptably convey to the national ear

the achievements of Roman arms.

CHAPTER VI.

NÆVIUS STOOD BETWEEN TWO AGES—LIFE OF ENNIUS—EPITAPHS WRITTEN BY HIM—HIS

TASTE, LEARNING, AND CHARACTER—HIS FITNESS FOR BEING A LITERARY

REFORMER—HIS INFLUENCE ON THE LANGUAGE—HIS VERSIFICATION—THE

ANNALS—DIFFICULTIES OF THE SUBJECT—TRAGEDIES AND COMEDIES—SATIRÆ—MINOR

WORKS.

ENNIUS (BORN B. C. 239.)

Nævius appears to have occupied a position between two successive ages;

he was the last of the oldest school of writers, and prepared the way

for a new one. Although a true Roman in sentiment, he admired Greek

cultivation. He saw with regret the old literature of his country fading

away, although he had himself introduced new principles of taste to his

countrymen. He was not prepared for the shock of seeing the old school

superseded by the new. But still the period for this had arrived, and in

his epitaph, as we have seen, he deplored that Latin had died with him.

A love for old Roman literature remained amongst the goatherds of the

hills and the husbandmen of the valleys and plains, in whose memories

lived the old songs which had been the delight of their infancy: it

survived amongst the few who could discern merit in undisciplined

genius; but the rising generation, who owed their taste to education,

admired only those productions by which their taste had been formed.

Greek literature had now an open field in which to flourish: it had

driven out its predecessor, although as yet it had not struck its roots

deeply into the Roman mind; a new school of poetry arose, and of that

school Ennius was the founder. The principal events in the life of

Ennius are as follows:—he was born at the little village of Rudiæ, in

the wild and mountainous Calabria, B. C. 239.[146] Of ancient and

honourable descent,[147] he is said[148] to have begun life in a

military career, and to have risen to the rank of a centurion or

captain. The anonymous author of the life of Cato, which is generally

attributed to Cornelius Nepos, relates that Cato in his voyage from

Africa to Rome[149] visited Sardinia, and finding Ennius in that island

took him home with him. But no reason can be assigned why Ennius should

have been there, or why Cato should have gone so far out of his way. If

the Censor did really introduce the poet to public notice at Rome, he

may have made his acquaintance during his quæstorship in Africa, if

Ennius was with Scipio in that province; or during his prætorship[150]

in Sardinia, if the poet was a resident in that island. There exist,

however, no sufficient data to clear up these difficulties.

It seems, moreover, strange that Cato should have been his patron, and

yet that he should have reproached M. Fulvius Nobilior for taking the

poet with him as his companion throughout his Ætolian expedition.[151]

With the exception of this campaign, Ennius resided during the remainder

of his long life at Rome. Greek and Greek literature were now eagerly

sought after by the higher classes, and Ennius earned a subsistence

sufficient for his moderate wants by tuition. He enjoyed the friendship

and esteem of the leading literary societies at Rome; and at his death,

at the age of seventy, he was buried in the family tomb of the Scipios,

at the request of the great conqueror of Hannibal, whose fame he

contributed to hand down to posterity. His statue was honoured with a

niche amongst the images of that illustrious race. The following epitaph

was written by himself:—[152]

Adspicite, O cives, senis Enni imagini’ formam

Hic vostrum panxit maxima facta patrum.

Nemo me lacrymis decoret, nec funera fletu

Faxit. cur? volito vivu’ per ora virum.

The epitaph which he wrote in honour of Scipio Africanus has also been

preserved:—[153]

Hic est ille situs, cui nemo civi’ neque hostis

Quivit pro factis reddere operæ pretium.

It is probable that death alone put a period to his career as a poet,

and that his last work was completed but a short time before his

decease. So popular was he for centuries, and with such care were his

poems preserved, that his whole works are said to have existed as late

as the thirteenth century.[154]

Literature, as represented by Ennius, attained a higher social and

political position than it had hitherto enjoyed. Livius Andronicus was,

as we have seen, a freedman, and probably a prisoner of war. Nævius

never arrived at the full civic franchise, nor became anything more than

the native of a municipality, resident at Rome. Hitherto the Romans,

although they had begun to admire learning, had not learned to respect

its professors. Ennius was evidently a gentleman; he was the first to

obtain for literature its due influence. Thus he achieved for himself

the much-coveted privileges of a Roman citizen, to which Livius had

never aspired, and which Nævius was never able to attain. Hence Cicero

always speaks of him with affection as a fellow-countryman. “Our own

Ennius” is the appellation which he uses when he quotes his poetry.

Horace also calls him “Father Ennius,” a term implying not only that he

was the founder of Latin poetry, but also reverence and regard.

To discriminating taste and extensive learning he added that versatility

of talent which is displayed in the great variety of his compositions.

He was acquainted with all the best existing sources of poetic lore, the

ancient legends of the Roman people, and the best works of the Greek

writers; he had critical judgment to select beautiful and interesting

portions, ingenuity to imitate them, and at the same time genius and

fancy to clothe them with originality. It was not to be expected that he

could be entirely freed from the antiquated style of the old school. The

process of remodelling a national literature, including the very

language in which it is expressed, and the metrical harmonies in which

it falls upon the ear, is almost like reforming the modes of thought,

and reconstructing the character of a people. Such a work must be

gradual and gentle: a nation’s mind will not bend at once to new

principles of taste and new rules of art. To attempt a violent

revolution would be absurd, and argue ignorance of human nature. The

poet who attempted it would fail in gaining sympathy, which is an

essential element of success. To cause such a revolution at all requires

a strong will and a vigorous manly mind; and these are precisely the

characteristic features of the Ennian poetry.

If we were to paint the character best adapted to act the part of a

literary reformer to a nation such as the Romans were, it would be

exactly that of Ennius. He was, like his friends Cato the Censor and

Scipio Africanus the elder, a man of action as well as philosophical

thought. He was not only a poet, but he was a brave and stout-hearted

soldier. He had all the singleness of heart and unostentatious

simplicity of manners which marked the old times of Roman virtue; he

lived the life of the Cincinnati, the Curii, and Fabricii, which the

poets of the luxurious Augustan age professed to admire, but did not

imitate. Rome was now beginning to be wealthy, and wealth to be the

badge of rank; yet the noble poet was respected by the rich and great,

even in his lowly cottage on the Aventine, and found it no discredit to

be employed as an instructor of youth, although it had been up to his

time only the occupation of servants and freedmen. He was the founder of

a new school, and was leading his admirers forward to a new career; but

his imagination could revel in the recollections and traditions of the

past. To him the glorious exploits of the patriarchs of his race

furnished as rich a mine of fable as the heroic strains of Homer, the

marvellous mythologies of Hesiod, and the tragic heroes of Argos, Mycenæ

and Thebes. His early training in Greek philosophy and poetry, and in

the midst of Greek habits in his native village, had not polished and

refined away his natural freshness. He was a child of art, but a child

of nature still. He had a firm belief in his mission as a poet, an

abiding conviction of his inspiration. He thought he was not

metaphorically, but really, what Horace calls him, a second Homer,[155]

for that the soul of the great Greek bard now animated his mortal body.

He had all the enthusiasm and boldness necessary for accomplishing a

great task, together with a consciousness that his task was a great and

honourable one.

Owing to this rare union of the best points of Roman character with

Greek refinement and civilization, he rendered himself as well as his

works acceptable to the most distinguished men of his day, and his

intimacy and friendship influenced the minds of Porcius Cato, Lælius,

Fulvius Nobilior, and the great Scipio.

A comparison of the extant specimens of the old Latin with the numerous

fragments[156] of the poems of Ennius which have been preserved, will

show how deeply they were indebted to him for the improvement of their

language, not only in the harmony of its numbers and the convenience of

its grammatical forms, but also in its copiousness and power.

It must not, however, be supposed that Ennius is to be praised, not only

because he did so much, but because he refrained from doing more, as

though he designedly left an antiquated rudeness, redolent of the old

Roman spirit and simplicity. A language in the condition or phase of

improvement to which he brought it is valuable in an antiquarian point

of view; but it is not to be admired as if it were then in a higher

state of perfection than it afterwards attained. Elaborate polish may,

perhaps, overcome life and freshness, but no one who possesses any

correctness of ear or appreciation of beauty can prefer the limping

hexameters of Ennius to the musical lines of Virgil, or his later style

to the refined eloquence of the Augustan age. As Quintilian says, we

value Ennius, not for the beauty of his style, but for his

picturesqueness, and for the holiness, as it were, which consecrates

antiquity, just as we feel a reverential awe when we contemplate the

huge gnarled fathers of the forest. “Ennium sicut sacros vetustate lucos

adoremus in quibus grandia et antiqua robora, jam non tantam habent

speciem, quantam religionem.”

His predecessors had done little to remould the rude and undigested mass

which, as has been shown, was made up of several elements, thrown

together by the chance of war and conquest, and left to be amalgamated

together by the natural genius of the people. Ennius naturally possessed

great power over words, and wielded that power skilfully. In

reconstructing the edifice he did the most important and most difficult

part, although the result of his labours does not strike the eye as

perfect and consummate. He laid the foundation strongly and safely. What

he did was improved upon, but was never undone. The taste of succeeding

ages erected on his basement an elegant and beautiful superstructure. To

Ennius we owe the fact that after his time Latin literature was always

advancing until it reached its perfection. It never went back, because

the groundwork on which it was built was sound.

Ennius imitated most of the Greek metrical forms; but he wrote verses

like a learner, and not like one imbued with the spirit of the metres

which he imitated. He attended to the prosodiac rules of quantity, so

far as his observation deduced them from the analogies of the two

languages, instead of the old Roman principle of ictus or stress; but,

provided the number of feet were correct, and the long and short

syllables followed each other in proper order, his ear was satisfied: it

was not as yet sufficiently in tune to appreciate those minuter

accessaries which embellish later Latin versification. This is the

principal cause of that ruggedness with which even the admirers of

Ennius justly find fault. But notwithstanding these defects, there are

amongst his verses some as musical and harmonious as those of the best

poets in the Augustan age.

His great epic poem, entitled “The Annals,” gained him the attachment as

well as the admiration of his countrymen. This poem, written in

hexameters, a metre now first introduced to the notice of the Romans,

detailed in eighteen books the rise and progress of their national

glory, from the earliest legendary periods down to his own times. The

only portion of history which he omitted was the first Punic war; and

the reason which he gives for the omission is that others have

anticipated him[157]—alluding to his predecessors Livius and Nævius.

The subject which he proposed to himself was one of considerable

difficulty. The title and scope of his work compelled him to adopt a

strict chronological order instead of the principles of epic

arrangement, and to invest the truths which the course of history forced

upon his acceptance with the interest of fiction. His subject could have

no unity, no hero upon whose fortunes the principal interest should be

concentrated, and around whom the leading events should group

themselves. But still no history could be better adapted to his purpose

than that of his own country. Its early legends form a long series of

poetical romances, fit to be sung in heroic numbers, although from being

originally unconnected with each other, incapable of being woven into

one epic story. Ennius had to unite in himself the characters of the

historian and the poet—to teach what he believed to be truth, and yet to

move the feelings and delight the fancy by the embellishments of

fiction. The poetical merit in which he must necessarily have been

deficient was the conduct of the plot; but the fragments of his poem are

not sufficiently numerous for us to discover this deficiency. They are,

however, amply sufficient to show that he possessed picturesque power

both in sketching his narratives and in portraying his characters. His

scenes are full of activity and animation; his characters seem to live

and breathe; his sentiments are noble, and full of a healthful

enthusiasm. His language is what that of an old Roman ought to be, such

as we might have expected from Cato and Scipio had they been poets:

dignified, chaste, severe, it rises as high as the most majestic

eloquence, although it does not soar to the sublimity of poetry.

The parts in which he approaches most nearly to his great model, or, as

he believed, the source of his inspiration, were in his descriptions of

battles. Here the martial spirit of the Roman warrior shines forth; the

old soldier seems to revel in the scenes of his youth. The poem which

occupied his declining years shows that it was his greatest pleasure to

record the triumphs of his countrymen, and to teach posterity how their

ancestors had won so many glorious fields. His similes are simply

imitations; they show that he had taste to appreciate the peculiar

features of the Homeric Poem; but as must be the case with mere

imitations, they have not the energy which characterizes his battles.

As a dramatic poet, Ennius does not deserve a high reputation. A tragic

drama must be of native growth, it will not bear transplanting. The

Romans did not possess the elements of tragedy; the genius of Ennius was

not able to remedy that defect, and he could do no more than select,

with the taste and judgment which he possessed, such Greek dramas as

were likely to be interesting. Probably, however, his tragedies never

became popular; they were admired by the narrow literary circle in which

his private life was passed. Those who were familiar with the Greek

originals were delighted to see their favourites transferred into their

native language; those who were not, had their curiosity gratified, and

welcomed even these reflections of the glorious minds of Æschylus,

Sophocles, and Euripides.

But the tribute of admiration which the ancient classical authors paid

to Ennius, was paid to him as an epic not as a dramatic poet. Cicero

when he speaks in his praise generally quotes from the Annals, only once

from a tragedy.[158] Virgil borrows lines and thoughts, together with

the commencement and conclusion of the same poem; and, although the fame

of Ennius survived the decline of Roman tragedy, and flourished even in

the age of the Antonines,[159] and his verses were heard in the theatre

of Puteoli (Pozzuoli,) the entertainment did not consist of one of his

tragedies, but of recitations from his epic poem. Nevertheless his

tragedies were very numerous, and the titles and some fragments of

twenty-three remain. They are all close imitations, or even

translations, of the Greek. Of fifteen fragments of his Medea which are

extant, there is not one which does not correspond with some passage in

the Medea of Euripides: the little which we have of his Eumenides is a

transcript from the tragedy of Æschylus;[160] and, according to A.

Gellius, his Hecuba is a clever translation likewise.

His favourite model was Euripides: nor is it surprising that he should

have been better able to appreciate the inferior excellencies of this

dramatic poet, when we remember that the birth of Latin literature was

coincident with the decay of that of Greece. Callimachus died just as

Livius began to write.[161] Theocritus expired when Ennius was

twenty-five years old;[162] and by this decaying living literature his

taste must have been partially educated and formed.

In comedy, as in tragedy, he never emancipated himself from the trammels

of the Greek originals. His comedies were _palliatæ_; and Terence when

accused of plagiarism defends himself by an appeal to the example of

Ennius. Fragments are preserved of four only.

The poems which he wrote in various metres, and on miscellaneous

subjects, were, for that reason, entitled _Satiræ_ or _Saturæ_. Ennius

does not, indeed, anticipate the claim of Lucilius to be considered the

father of Roman satire in its proper sense; but still there can be

little doubt that the scope of these minor poems was the chastisement of

vice. The degeneracy of Roman virtue, even in his days, provoked

language of Archilochian bitterness from so stern a moralist, although

he would not libellously attack those who were undeserving of censure.

The salutation which he addresses to himself expresses the burning

indignation which he felt against wickedness:—

Enni poeta salve qui mortalibus

_Versus_ propinas flammeos medullitus.

Amongst his minor works were epitaphs on Scipio and on himself, a

didactic poem, entitled Epicharmus, a collection of moral precepts, an

encomium on his friend Scipio Africanus, a translation in hexameters of

a poem on edible fishes and their localities, by Archestratus

(Phagetica,) and a work entitled Asotus, the existence of which is only

known from its being mentioned by Varro and Festus for the sake of

etymological illustration; by some it is thought to have been a comedy.

The idea that he was the author of a piece called “Sabinæ” is without

foundation.

Cicero[163] mentions a mythological work (Evemerus,) a translation in

trochaics of the Ἱερα Ἀναγραφη of the Sicilian writer who bore that

name. It was a work well adapted to the talent which Ennius possessed of

relating mythical traditions, in the form of poetical history. The

theory embodied in the original was one which is often adopted by Livy

in his early history, and therefore most probably entered into the

ancient legends, namely, that the gods were originally mighty warriors

and benefactors of mankind, who, as their reward, were deified and

worshipped.

CHAPTER VII.

THE NEW COMEDY OF THE GREEKS THE MODEL OF THE ROMAN—THE MORALITY OF

ROMAN COMEDY—WANT OF VARIETY IN THE PLOTS OF ROMAN COMEDY—DRAMATIS

PERSONÆ—COSTUME—CHARACTERS—MUSIC—LATIN PRONUNCIATION—METRICAL

LICENSES—CRITICISM OF VOLCATIUS—LIFE OF PLAUTUS—CHARACTER OF HIS

COMEDIES—ANALYSIS OF HIS PLOTS.

It has already been shown that the dramatic taste of the Romans first

displayed itself in the rudest species of comedy. The entertainment was

extemporaneous, and performed by amateurs, and rhythmical only so far as

to be consistent with these conditions. It was satirical, personal, full

of burlesque extravagances, practical jokes, and licentious jesting.

When it put on a more systematic form, by the introduction of music, and

singing, and dancing, and professional actors, still the Roman youth

would not give up their national amusement, and a marked distinction was

made in the social and political condition of the actor and the amateur.

Italian comedy made no further progress, but on it was engrafted the

Greek comedy, and hence arose that phase of the drama, the

representatives of which were Plautus, Cæcilius Statius, and Terence.

Now the old Attic comedy consisted of either political or literary

criticism. In Italy, however, the Fescennine verses, and the farces of

Atella, were not political, neither was there any literature to

criticise or to parody. But the personalities in which the people had

taken pleasure prepared them to enjoy the comedy of manners, embodying

as it did pictures of social life. The new comedy, therefore, of the

Greeks furnished a suitable model; and the comedies of Menander,

Diphilus, Apollodorus, and others formed a rich mine of materials for

adaptation or imitation.

From them the Roman poet could derive much more than the “vis comica,”

in which Cæsar complained that they were still so deficient. In the

extant fragments of Menander may be found powerful delineations of human

passions, especially of the pains and pleasures of love, melancholy but

true views of the vanity of human hopes, elevated moral sentiments, and

noble ideas of the divine nature. A vein of temperate and placid

gentleness, intermingled with amiable pleasantry, pervaded the comedies

of Philemon, and his sentiments are tender and serious, without being

gloomy. These good qualities recommended them to Chrysostom, Eustathius,

and other early Christians, by whom so many of their fragments have been

preserved.

There is no doubt that the comic, as well as the tragic poet of Greece,

considered himself as a public instructor; but it is difficult to say

how far the Roman author recognised a moral object, because it cannot be

determined what moral sentiments were designedly introduced, and what

were merely transcriptions from the original. It is plain, however, that

Roman comedy was calculated to produce a moral result, although the

morality which it inculcated was extremely low: its standard was merely

worldly prudence, its lessons utilitarian, its philosophy, like that of

Menander himself, Epicurean, and therefore it did not inculcate an

unbending sense of honour, the self-denying heroism of the Stoic school,

or that rigid Roman virtue which was akin to it—it contented itself with

encouraging the benevolent affections.

It did not profess to reform the knave, except by showing him that

knavery was not always successful. It taught that cunning must be met

with its own weapons, and that the qualities necessary for the conflict

were wit and sharpness. The union between the moral and the comic

element was exhibited in making intrigue successful wherever the victim

was deserving of it, and in representing him as foiled by accidents and

cross-purposes, because the prudence and caution of the knave are not

always on a par with his cunning. It also had its sentimental side, and

the sympathies of the audience were enlisted in favour of good temper,

affection, and generosity.

But the new Attic comedy presented a truthful portraiture of real native

life. This was scarcely ever the case with the Romans; the plots,

characters, localities, and political institutions, were all Greek, and

therefore it can only be said that the whole was in perfect harmony and

consistency with Roman modes of thinking and acting. The comedies of

Plautus probably, as will be seen hereafter, form the only exception.

It cannot be denied that there is a want of variety in the plots of

Roman comedy;[164] but this defect is owing to the political and social

condition of ancient Greece. Greece and the neighbouring countries were

divided into numerous independent states; its narrow seas were, even

more than they are now, infested with pirates, who had their nests and

lurking-places in the various unfrequented coasts and islands; and

slaves were an article of merchandise. Many a romantic incident

therefore occurred, such as is found in comedy. A child would be stolen,

sold as a slave, educated in all the accomplishments which would fit her

to be an _Hetæra_, engage the affections of some young Athenian, and

eventually, from some jewels or personal marks, be recognised by her

parents, and restored to the rank of an Athenian citizen.

Again, in order to confine the privilege of citizenship, marriages with

foreigners were invalid, and this restriction on marriage caused the

_Hetæra_ to occupy so prominent a part in comedy; besides, love was

little more than sensual passion, and marriage generally a matter of

convenience: the Hetæræ, too, were often clever and accomplished, whilst

the virtuous matron was fitter for the duties of domestic life than for

society. The regulations of the Greek theatre also, which were adopted

by the Romans, caused some restrictions upon the variety of plots. In

comedy the scene represented the public street, in which Greek females

of good character did not usually appear unveiled: matrons, nurses, and

women of light character alone are introduced upon the stage, and in all

the plays of Terence, except the Eunuch, the heroine is never seen.

As the range of subjects is small, so there is a sameness in the

dramatis personæ: the principal characters are a morose and

parsimonious, or a gentle and easy father, who is sometimes, also, the

henpecked husband of a rich wife, an affectionate or domineering wife, a

young man who is frank and good-natured but profligate, a grasping or

benevolent Hetæra, a roguish servant, a fawning favourite, a hectoring

coward, an unscrupulous procuress, and a cold calculating slave-dealer.

The actors wore appropriate masks, sometimes partial, sometimes covering

the whole face, the features of which were not only grotesque, but much

exaggerated and magnified. This was rendered absolutely necessary by the

immense size of the theatre, the stage of which sometimes measured sixty

yards, and which would contain many thousands of spectators; the mouth,

also, answered the purpose of a sounding board, or speaking-trumpet to

assist in conveying the voice to every part of the vast building. The

characters, too, were made known by a conventional costume: old men wore

ample robes of white; young men were attired in gay parti-coloured

clothes; rich men in purple; soldiers in scarlet; poor men and slaves in

dark-coloured and scanty dresses.

The names assigned to the characters of the Roman comedy have always an

appropriate meaning. Young men, for example, are Pamphilus, “dear to

all;” Charinus, “gracious;” Phædria, “joyous:” old men are Simo,

“flat-nosed,” such a physiognomy being considered indicative of a

cross-grained disposition: Chremes, from a word signifying troubled with

phlegm. Slaves generally bear the name of their native country, as

Syrus, Phrygia; Davus, a Dacian; Byrrhia, a native of Pyrrha in Caria;

Dorias, a Dorian girl; a vain-glorious soldier is Thraso, from θρασος,

boldness; a parasite, Gnatho, from γναθος, the jaw; a nurse, Sophrona

(discreet;) a freedman, Sosia, as having been spared in war; a young

girl is Glycerium, from γλυκυς, sweet; a judge is Crito; a courtesan,

Chrysis, from χρυσος, gold. These examples will be sufficient to

illustrate the practice adopted by the comic writers.

It is very difficult to understand the relation which music bore to the

exhibition of Roman comedy. It is clear that there was always a musical

accompaniment, and that the instruments used were flutes; the lyre was

only used in tragedy, because in comedy there was no chorus or lyric

portion. The flutes were at first small and simple; but in the time of

Horace were much larger and more powerful, as well as constructed with

more numerous stops and greater compass.[165]

Flutes were of two kinds. Those played with the right hand (tibiæ

dextræ) were made of the upper part of the reed, and like the modern

fife or octave flute emitted a high sound: they were therefore suitable

to lively and cheerful melodies; and this kind of music, known by the

name of the Lydian mode, was performed upon a pair of tibiæ dextræ. The

left-handed flutes (tibiæ sinistræ) were pitched an octave lower: their

tones were grave and fit for solemn music. The mode denominated Tyrian,

or Sarrane,[166] was executed with a pair of tibiæ sinistræ. If the

subject of the play was serio-comic, the music was in the Phrygian mode,

and the flutes used were _impares_ (unequal,) _i. e._, one for the

right, the other for the left hand.[167] In tragedy the lyrical portion

was sung to music and the dialogue declaimed. But if that were the case

in comedy, it is difficult to imagine what corresponded to the lyrical

portion, and therefore where music was used. Quintilian informs us that

scenic modulation was a simple, easy chant,[168] resembling probably

intonation in our cathedrals. Such a practice would aid the voice

considerably; and if so, the theory of Colman is probably correct, that

there was throughout some accompaniment, but that the music arranged for

the soliloquies (in which Terence especially abounds) was more laboured

and complicated than that of the dialogue.[169]

In order to understand the principles which regulated the Roman comic

metres, some remarks must be made on the manner in which the language

itself was affected by the common conversational pronunciation. In most

languages there is a natural tendency to abbreviation and contraction.

As the object of language is the expression of thought, few are inclined

to take more trouble or to expend more time than is absolutely necessary

for conveying their meaning: this attention to practical utility and

convenience is the reason for all elliptical forms in grammatical

constructions, and also for all abbreviated methods of pronunciation by

slurring or clipping, or, to use the language of grammarians, by

apocope, syncope, synæresis, or crasis.

The experience of every one proves how different is the impression which

the sound of a foreign language makes upon the ear, when spoken by

another, from what it makes upon the eye when read even by one who is

perfectly acquainted with the theory of pronunciation. Until the ear is

habituated, it is easier for an Englishman to speak French than to

understand it when spoken. If we consider attentively the manner in

which we speak our own language, it is astonishing how many letters and

even syllables are slurred over and omitted: the accented syllable is

strongly and firmly enunciated, the rest, especially in long words, are

left to take care of themselves, and the experience of the hearer and

his acquaintance with the language find no difficulty in supplying the

deficiency. This is universally the case, except in careful and

deliberate reading, and in measured and stately declamation.

With regard to the classical languages, the foregoing observations hold

good; in a slighter degree, indeed, with respect to the Greek, for the

delicacy of their ear, their attention to accent and quantity, not only

in poetry but in oratory, and even in conversation, caused them to give

greater effect to every syllable, and especially to the vowel sounds.

But even in Greek poetry elision sometimes prevents the disagreeable

effect of a hiatus, and in the transition from the one dialect to the

other, the numerous vowels of the Ionic assume the contracted form of

the Attic.

The resemblance between the practice of the Romans and that of modern

nations is very remarkable; with them the mark of good taste was

ease—the absence of effort, pedantry, and affectation. As they

principally admired facility in versification, so they sought it in

pronunciation likewise. To speak with mouthing (hiulce,) with a broad

accent (late, vaste,) was to speak like a clown and not like a gentleman

(rustice et inurbaniter.) Cicero[170] admired the soft, gentle, equable

tones of the female voice, and considered the pronunciation of the

eloquent and cultivated Lælia as the model of purity and perfection: he

thought that she spoke as Plautus or Nævius might have spoken. Again, he

speaks of the habit which Cotta had of omitting the iota; pronouncing,

for example, dominus, dom’nus, as a prevalent fashion; and although he

says,[171] that such an _obscuration_ argues negligence, he, on the

other hand, applies to the opposite fault a term (putidius) which

implies the most offensive affectation. From these observations, we must

expect to find that Latin as it was pronounced was very different from

Latin as it is written; that this difference consisted in abbreviation

either by the omission of sounds altogether, or by contraction of two

sounds into one; and that these processes would take place especially in

those syllables which in poetry are not marked by the ictus or beat, or

in common conversation by the stress or emphasis. Even in the more

artificial poetry and oratory of the Augustan age, in which quantity was

more rigidly observed by the Roman imitators than by the Greek

originals, we find traces of this tendency; and Virgil does not hesitate

to use in his stately heroics such forms as aspris, for asperis,

semustum for semiustum, oraclum for oraculum, maniplus for manipulus;

and, like Terence, to make rejicere (rēīcĕrĕ) a dactyle.[172] A number

of the most common words, sanctioned by general usage, and incorporated

into the language when in its most perfect state, were contractions—such

as amassent for amavissent, concio for conventio, cogo from con and ago,

surgo from sub and rego, malla for maxilla, pomeridianus from

post-mediam-diem, and other instances too numerous to mention.

But in the earlier periods, when literature was addressed still more to

the ear than to the eye, when the Greek metres were as yet unknown, and

even when, after their introduction, exact observation of Greek rules

was not yet necessary, we find, as might be expected, these principles

of the language carried still further. They pervade the poems of Livius

and Ennius, and the Roman tragedies, even although their style is

necessarily more declamatory than that of the comic writers; but in the

latter we have a complete representation of Latin as it was commonly

pronounced and spoken, and but little trammelled or confined by a rigid

adhesion to the Greek metrical laws. In the prologues, indeed, which are

of the nature of declamation, and not of free and natural conversation,

more care is visible; the iambic trimeters in which they are written

fall upon the ear with a cadence similar to those of the Greek, with

scarcely any license except an occasional spondee in the even places.

But in the scenes little more seems to have been attended to, than that

the verse should have the required number of feet, and the syllables

pronounced the right quantity, in accordance with the widest license

which the rules of Greek prosody allowed. What syllables should be

slurred, was left to be decided by the common custom of pronunciation.

Besides the licenses commonly met with in the poets of the Augustan age,

the following mutilations are the most usual in the poetical language of

the age of which we are treating:—

1. The final _s_ might be elided even before a consonant, and hence the

preceding vowel was made short: thus mălīs became mali, on the same

principle that in Augustan poetry aūdīsnĕ was contracted into audĭn’.

Thus the short vowel would suffer elision before another, and the

following line of Terence would consequently be thus scanned:—

Ut mă | līs gāŭ | dēat ălĭ | ēn’ ātq’. | ēx ĭn | cōmmö | dīs.

2. Vowels and even consonants were slurred over; hence Liberius became

Lib’rius; Adolescens, Ad’lescens; Vehemens, Vemens; Voluptas, V’luptas

(like the French voila, v’la;) meum, eum, suum, siet, fuit, Deos, ego,

ille, tace, became monosyllables; and facio, sequere, &c., dissyllables.

3. _M_ and _D_ were syncopated in the middle of words: thus enimvero

became en’vero; quidem and modo qu’en and mo’o, circumventus,

circ’ventus.

4. Conversely _d_ was added to me, te, and se, when followed by a vowel,

as Reliquit med homo, &c., and in Plautus, med erga.

Observations of such principles as these enable us to reduce all the

metres of Terence, and nearly all of Plautus, to iambic and trochaic,

especially to iambic senarii and trochaic tetrameters. Many of those

which defy the attempt have become, by the injudicious treatment of

transcribers or commentators, wrongly arranged: for example, one of four

lines in the Andria of Terence, which has always proved a difficulty,

might be thus arranged:—

Innā | tă cuī | quām tānt’ | ūt siēt | vēcōr | dĭa;

instead of the usual unmanageable form—

Tanta vecordia innata cuiquam ut siet.

_Andr._ iv. 1.

Volcatius Sedigitus, a critic and grammarian, assigns an order of merit

to the authors of Roman comedy in the following passage:—

Multos incertos certare hanc rem vidimus

Palmam poetæ comico cui deferant.

Eum, me judice, errorem dissolvam tibi;

Ut contra si quis sentiat, nihil sentiat.

Cæcilio palmam Statio do comico.

Plautus secundus facile exsuperat cæteros.

Dein Nævius qui servet pretium, tertius est.

Si erit, quod quarto dabitur Licinio.

Post insequi Licinium facio Atilium.

In sexto sequitur hos loco Terentius.

Turpilius septimum, Trabea octavum obtinet;

Nono loco esse facile facio Luscium.

Decimum addo causa antiquitatis Ennium.

_Volc. Sedig. ap. Gel._ lib. xv. 24.

However correct this judgment may be, Plautus is the oldest, if not the

most celebrated of those who have not as yet been mentioned.

PLAUTUS.

T. Maccius Plautus was a contemporary of Ennius, for it is generally

supposed that he was born twelve years later,[173] and died fifteen

years earlier[174] than the founder of the new school of Latin poetry.

The flourishing period, therefore, of both coincide. He was a native of

Sarsina, in Umbria, but was very young when he removed to Rome. Very

little is known respecting his life; but it is universally admitted that

he was of humble origin, and owing to the prevalence of this tradition

we find _Plautinæ prosapiæ homo_, used as a proverbial expression. The

numerous examples in his comedies of vulgar taste and low humour are in

favour of this supposition.

He had no early gentlemanlike associations to interfere with his

delineations of Roman character in low life. His contemporary, Ennius,

was a gentleman; Plautus was not: education did not overcome his

vulgarity, although it produced a great effect upon his language and

style, which were more refined and cultivated than those of his

predecessors. Plautus must have lived and associated with the class

whose manners he describes; hence his pictures are correct and truthful.

The class from which his representations of Roman life was taken is that

of the _ærarii_, who consisted of clients, the sons of freedmen, and the

half-enfranchised natives of Italian towns. His plots are Greek, his

personages Greek, and the scene is laid in Greece and her colonies; but

the morality, manners, sentiments, wit, and humour, were those of that

mixed, half-foreign, class of the inhabitants of the capital, which

stood between the slave and the free-born citizen. One of his characters

is, as was observed by Niebuhr,[175] not Roman, for the parasite is a

Greek, not a Roman character; but then a flatterer is by profession a

citizen of the world, and his business is to conform himself to the

manners of every society. How readily that character became naturalized,

we are informed by some of the most amusing passages in the satires of

Horace and Juvenal.

The humble occupation which his poverty compelled him to follow was

calculated to draw out and foster the comic talent for which he was

afterwards distinguished, for Varro[176] tells us that he acted as a

stage-carpenter (_operarius_) to a theatrical company; he adds, also,

that he was subsequently engaged in some trade in which he was

unsuccessful, and was reduced to the necessity of earning his daily

bread by grinding in a mill. To this degrading labour, which was not

usually performed by men, except as a punishment for refractory slaves,

it has been supposed that he owed his cognomen, Asinius, which is

sometimes appended to his other names. Ritzschl, however, has most

ingeniously and satisfactorily proved that the name of Asinius is a

corruption of Sarsinas (native of Sarsina:) he supposes that Sarsinas

became Arsinas, that this was afterwards written Arsin, then Asin, and

that this was finally considered as the representative of Asinius.

This view is further supported by the fact that, in all cases in which

the name Asinius is used, the poet is called not Asinius Plautus, but

Plautus Asinius, like Livius Patavinus, this being the proper position

for the ethnic name. Another error respecting the poet’s name has been

perpetuated throughout all the editions of his works, although it is not

found in any manuscript. It was discovered by Ritzschl[177] whilst

examining the palimpsest MS. in the Ambrosian Library at Milan. He thus

found that his real names were Titus Maccius, and not Marcus Accius. The

name Plautus was given him because he had flat feet, this being the

signification of the word in the Umbrian language. Niebuhr,[178]

although he does not deny his poverty, gives no credit to the story of

his working at a mill.

The earliest comedies which he wrote are said to have been entitled

“Addictus,” and “Saturio,” but they are not contained amongst the twenty

which are now extant. As soon as he became an author there can be no

doubt that he emerged from his state of poverty and obscurity, for he

had no rival during his whole career, unless Cæcilius Statius, a man of

very inferior talent, can be considered one. Comedies began now to be in

great demand: the taste for the comic drama was awakened; it was

precisely the sort of literature likely to be acceptable to an active,

bustling, observant people like the Romans. They liked shows of every

kind, and public speaking, and had always their eyes and their ears

open, loved jokes and rude satire and boisterous mirth, and would

appreciate bold and fearless delineations of character, which they met

with in their every-day life. The demand for the public games,

therefore, began to be quite as great as the supply, and the theatrical

managers would take care always to have a new play in rehearsal, in case

they should be called upon for a public representation.

Plautus had no aristocratic patrons, like Ennius and Terence—probably

his humour was too broad, and his taste not refined enough, to please

the Scipios and Lælii, and their fastidious associates. Horace finds

fault with Plautus because his wit was not sufficiently gentlemanlike,

as well as his numbers not sufficiently harmonious. Probably the higher

classes might have observed similar deficiencies; with the masses,

however, the comedies of Plautus, notwithstanding their faults, retained

their original popularity even in the Augustan age. The Roman public

were his patrons. His very coarseness would recommend him to the rude

admirers of the Fescennine songs and the Atellan _Fabulæ_. His careless

prosody and inharmonious verses would either escape the not over-refined

ears of his audience, or be forgiven for the sake of the fun which they

contained. Life, bustle, surprise, unexpected situations, sharp,

sprightly, brilliant, sparkling raillery, that knew no restraint nor

bounds, carried the audience with him. He allowed no respite, no time

for dulness or weariness. To use an expression of Horace, he hurried on

from scene to scene, from incident to incident, from jest to jest, so

that his auditors had no opportunity for feeling fatigue.

Another cause of his popularity was, that although Greek was the

fountain from which he drew his stores, and the metres of Greek poetry

the framework in which he set them, his wit, his mode of thought, his

language, were purely Roman. He had lived so long amongst Romans that he

had caught their national spirit, and this spirit was reflected

throughout his comedies. The incidents of them might have taken place in

the streets of Rome, so skilful was he in investing them with a Roman

dress.

His style too was truly Latin, and Latin of the very purest and most

elegant kind.[179] He did not, like Cato and Ennius, carry his

admiration for Greek so far as to “enrich” his native tongue with new

and foreign words. Nor would this feature be without some effect in

gaining him the sympathy of the masses. They admire elegance of language

if it is elegant simplicity. They appreciate well-chosen and

well-arranged sentences, if the words are such as fall familiarly, and,

therefore, intelligibly on their ears.

The coarseness of Plautus, however, was the coarseness of innuendo, and

even if the allusion was indelicate, it was veiled in decent language.

This quality of his wit called forth the approbation of Cicero.[180] But

it is difficult to conceive how he could compare him, in this

particular, with the old Athenian comedy, the obscenity of which is so

gross and palpable, as to constitute the sole blemish of those

delightful compositions.

The following laudatory epigram written by Varro is found in the Noctes

Atticæ of A. Gellius:[181]—

Postquam est mortem aptus Plautus, comœdia luget,

Scena est deserta dein risus ludu, jocusque,

Et numeri innumeri simul omnes collacrumarunt.

The same grammarian paid to his style a compliment similar to that which

had been paid to Plato, by saying, that if the Muses spoke in Latin they

would borrow the language of Plautus.[182] Whatever might have been the

faults of the Plautian comedy, it maintained its position on the Roman

stage for at least five centuries, and was acted as late as the reign of

Dioclesian.

It does not appear that Plautus ever attained the full privileges of a

Roman citizen. Probably he had no powerful friends to press his claims,

and therefore enjoyed no more than the Italian franchise to the end of

his days. No fewer than one hundred and thirty comedies have been

attributed to him, but of these many were spurious. Varro considers the

twenty which are now extant genuine, together with the Vidularia, of

which only a few lines remain, and those only in the palimpsest MS.

already mentioned. The rest, the titles of which alone survive, are of

doubtful authority.

All the comedies of Plautus, except the _Amphitruo_, were adapted from

the new comedy of the Greeks. The statement that he imitated the

Sicilian Epicharmus,[183] and founded the _Menæchmi_ on one of his

comedies, rests only on a vague tradition. There can be no doubt that he

studied also both the old and the middle comedy; but still Menander,

Diphilus, and Philemon furnished him the originals of his plots. The

popularity of Plautus was not confined to Rome, either republican or

imperial. Dramatic writers of modern times have recognised the

effectiveness of his plots, and, therefore, have adopted or imitated

them, and they have been translated into most of the European languages.

The following is a brief sketch of the subjects of his extant comedies.

I. Amphitruo. This is the only piece which Plautus borrowed from the

middle Attic comedy; the plot is founded on the well-known story of

Jupiter and Alcmena, and has been imitated both by Molière and Dryden.

II., III., IV. The Asinaria, Casina, and Mercator, depict a state of

morals so revolting that it is impossible to dwell upon them.

V. In the Aulularia, a very amusing play, a miser finds a pot of gold

(aulula,) and hides it with the greatest care. His daughter is demanded

in marriage by an old man named Megadorus, the principal recommendation

to whose suit is, that he is willing to take her without a dowry.

Meanwhile the slave of her young lover steals the gold, and, as may be

conjectured, for no more of the play is preserved, the lover restores

the gold, and the old man, in the joy of his heart, gives him his

daughter.

This comedy suggested to Molière the plot of L’Avare, the best play

which he ever wrote, and one in which he far surpasses the original. Two

attempts have been made to supply the lost scenes, which may be found in

the Delphin and Variorum edition.

VI. The Bacchides are two twin sisters, one of whom is beloved by her

sister’s lover. He does not know that there are two, and, misled by the

similarity of the name, thinks himself betrayed. Hence arise amusing

situations and incidents, but at length an éclaircissement takes place.

VII. The Captivi, for its style, sentiments, moral, and the structure of

the plot, is incomparably the best comedy of Plautus. In a war between

the Ætolians and Eleians, Philopolemus, an Ætolian, the son of Hegio, is

taken prisoner, whilst Philocrates is captured by the Ætolians.

Philocrates and his slave Tyndarus are purchased by Hegio, with a view

to recover his son by an exchange of prisoners. The master and slave,

however, agree to change places; and thus Philocrates is sent back to

his country, valued only as a slave. Hegio discovers the trick, and

condemns Tyndarus to fetters and hard labour. Philocrates, however,

returns, and brings back Philopolemus with him, and it also turns out

that Tyndarus is a son of Hegio whom he had lost in his infancy.

VIII. The Curculio derives its name from a parasite, who is the hero,

and who acts his part in a plot full of fraud and forgery; the only

satisfactory point in the comedy being the deserved punishment of an

infamous pander.

IX. In the Cistellaria, Demipho, a Lemnian, promises his daughter to

Alcesimarchus, who is in love with Silenium. The young lady has fallen

into the hands of a courtesan, who endeavours to force her into a

vicious course of life; she, however, steadily refuses; and it is at

length discovered, by means of a box of toys (cistella,) that she is the

illegitimate daughter of Demipho, and had been exposed as an infant. Her

virtue is rewarded by her being happily married to her lover.

X. The Epidicus was evidently a favourite play with the author, for he

makes one of the characters in another comedy say that he loves it as

dearly as himself.[184] The plot turns on the common story of a lost

child recognised. The intrigue, which is remarkably clever, is managed

by Epidicus, a cunning slave, who gives the name to the play.

XI. The Mostellaria is exceedingly lively and amusing. A young man, in

his father’s absence, makes the paternal mansion a scene of noisy and

extravagant revelry. In the midst of it the father returns, and in order

to prevent discovery, a slave persuades him that the house is haunted.

When he discovers the trick he is very angry, but ultimately pardons

both his son and the slave. The name is derived from Mostellum, the

diminutive of Monstrum, a prodigy, or supernatural visitor.

XII. The Menæchmi is a Comedy of Errors, arising out of the exact

likeness between two brothers, one of whom was stolen in infancy, and

the other wanders in search of him, and at last finds him in great

affluence at Epidamnus. It furnished the plot to Shakspeare’s play, and

likewise to the comedy of Regnard, which bears the name of the original.

XIII. The Miles Gloriosus was taken from the Ἀλαζων (Boaster) of the

Greek comic drama. Its hero, Pyrgopolinices, is the model of all the

blustering, swaggering captains of ancient and modern comedy. The

braggadocio carries off the mistress of a young Athenian, who follows

him, and takes up his abode in the next house to that in which the girl

is concealed. Like Pyramus and Thisbe the lovers have secret interviews

through a hole in the party-wall. (The device being borrowed from the

“Phantom” of Menander.)[185] When they are discovered, the soldier is

induced to resign the lady by being persuaded that another is

desperately in love with him, but the only reward which he gets is a

good beating for his pains.

XIV. In the Pseudolus, a cunning slave of that name procures, by a false

memorandum, a female slave for his young master; and when the fraud is

discovered the matter is settled by the payment of the price by a

complaisant father. Notwithstanding the simplicity of the plot, the

action is bustling and full of intrigue; and from a passage of

Cicero,[186] it appears that this play and Truculentus were favourites

with the author himself. The procurer in this comedy was one of the

characters in which Roscius especially excelled.

XV. The Pœnulus derives its name from its romantic plot. A young

Carthaginian slave is adopted by an old bachelor, who leaves him a good

inheritance. He falls in love with a girl, a Carthaginian like himself,

who had been kidnapped with her sister, and now belonged to a procurer.

The arrival of the father leads to a discovery that they are free-born,

and that they are the first cousins of the young man. Thus it comes to

pass that the girls are rescued, and the lovers united. The most curious

portion of this comedy is that in which Hanno, the father, is

represented as talking Punic;[187] and his words bear so close a

resemblance to the Hebrew that commentators have expressed them in

Hebrew characters, and rendered them, after a few emendations, capable

of translation.[188]

XVI. The tricks played upon a procurer by a slave, aided by a Persian

parasite, furnish the slender plot of the Persa.

XVII. The Rudens derives its name from the rope of a fishing-net, and,

with the exception perhaps of the Captivi, is the most affecting and

pleasing of all the twenty plays. The morality is pure, the sentiments

elevated, the poetic justice complete. A female child has fallen into

the hands of a procurer. Her lover in vain endeavours to ransom her, and

being shipwrecked, the toys with which she played in infancy are lost in

the waves, but are eventually brought to shore by the net of a

fisherman. She is thus recognised by her father, and is married to her

lover, whilst the procurer is utterly ruined by the loss of his property

in the wreck.

XVIII. Stichus is the name of the slave on whom the intrigue of the play

which bears this name mainly depends. The plot is very simple. Two

brothers marry two sisters, and are ruined by extravagant living; they

determine therefore to go abroad and repair their fortunes. After they

have been many years absent the ladies’ father wishes them to marry

again. They, however, steadily refuse, and their constancy is rewarded

by the return of their husbands with large fortunes.

XIX. The Trinummus is a translation from the Thesaurus of the Greek

comic poet Philemon.[189] It derived its Latin title from the incident

of the informer being bribed with three _nummi_.[190] An old merchant on

leaving home places his son and daughter, together with a treasure which

he has buried in his house, under the guardianship of his friend

Callicles. The son squanders his father’s property, and is even forced

to sell his house, which Callicles purchases. Soon a young man of good

family and fortune makes proposals for the daughter’s hand, and

Callicles is at a loss to know how to give her a dowry without saying

something about the treasure. At length he hires a man to pretend that

he has come from the absent father, and has brought one thousand pieces

of gold. The return of the father interferes with the plan; but

everything is explained, the daughter is married, and the son forgiven.

XX. The Truculentus, although the moral picture which it presents is

detestable, is remarkably clever, both for the variety of incidents and

the graphic delineations of character which it contains. The artful

courtesan who dupes and ruins her lovers; the three lovers

themselves—one a man of the town, another an unpolished but generous

rustic, the third a stupid and conceited soldier; and, lastly, the

slave, whose rude sagacity and bluff hatred of courtesans expose him to

the imputation of being actually savage (truculentus,) are powerfully

drawn; but notwithstanding its merits, it is not a play which can

possibly please the tastes and sentiments of modern times.

Plautus must not be dismissed without some notice of his prologues. The

prologue of the Greek drama prepared the audience for the action of the

play, by narrating all the previous events of the story which were

necessary in order to understand the plot. That of the modern stage is

an address of the poet to the spectators, praying for indulgence,

deprecating severe criticism, enlivened frequently by characteristic

sketches and satirical observations on the manners and habits of the

age. In these features it sometimes resembles the parabasis of the old

Attic comedy. The prologues of Plautus united all these objects; and

whilst they introduced the comedy, their amusing gayety was calculated

to put the audience in good humour and secure their applause. The shrewd

knowledge which the author displayed in them of the character of his

fellow-countrymen claimed their sympathies, and called forth their

prejudices in his favour; whilst their polish and finish must have been

appreciated by an assembly whose attention had not begun to flag or to

weary. Some are long pieces. That of the Amphitruo, which is the

longest, extends to upwards of one hundred and fifty lines. That of the

Trinummus takes the unusual form of a brief allegorical dialogue between

Luxury and her daughter Poverty.

CHAPTER VII.

STATIUS COMPARED WITH MENANDER—CRITICISM OF CICERO—HYPOTHESES RESPECTING

THE EARLY LIFE OF TERENCE—ANECDOTE BELATED BY DONATUS—STYLE AND MORALITY

OF TERENCE—ANECDOTE OF HIM RELATED BY CORNELIUS NEPOS—HIS PECUNIARY

CIRCUMSTANCES AND DEATH—PLOTS AND CRITICISM OF HIS COMEDIES—THE

REMAINING COMIC POETS.

CÆCILIUS STATIUS.

Between Plautus and Terence flourished Cæcilius Statius, whom Volcatius,

as well as Cicero,[191] places at the head of the list of Roman comic

poets. He was an emancipated slave, and was born at Milan. The time of

his birth is unknown, but he died A. U. C. 586, and was therefore a

contemporary of Ennius. He did not depart from the established custom of

transferring the comedy of the Greek stage to that of Rome, and as far

as a judgment can be formed from the titles of his forty-five comedies

which are extant, they were all “_Palliatæ_.” The collection of

fragments remaining of his works is a large one, but they are not

sufficiently long or connected to test the favourable opinion

entertained by the critics of ancient times.

Aulus Gellius[192] enables us to estimate the powers of C. Statius as a

translator by a comparison of two passages taken from his “Plocius” with

the original of Menander. The result is, that the usual fault of

translations is too plainly manifest, namely, the loss of the spirit and

vigour. “Our comedies,” he remarks, “are written in an elegant and

graceful style, and may be read with pleasure; but if compared with the

Greek originals, they fall so far short that the arms of Glaucus could

not have been more inferior to those of Diomede: the Greek is full of

emotion, wit, and liveliness; the Latin dull and uninteresting.” Cicero,

likewise, and Varro have pronounced judgment upon his merits and

demerits. The sum and substance of their criticisms appear to be that

his excellencies consisted in the conduct of the plot,[193]

dignity,[194] and in pathos,[195] whilst his fault was not sufficient

care in preserving the purity of the Latin style.

Cicero,[196] though not without hesitation, assigns the palm to him

amongst the writers of Latin comedy, as he awards that of epic poetry to

Ennius, and that of tragedy to Pacuvius.[196] He says, on the other

hand,[197] that the bad Latin of Cæcilius and Pacuvius formed exceptions

to the usual style of their age, which was as commendable for its

Latinity as for its innocence. And in a letter to Atticus,[198] he

writes:—“I said, not as Cæcilius, _Mane ut ex portu in Piræum_, but as

Terence, whose plays, on account of their elegant Latinity, were thought

to have been written by C. Lælius, Heri aliquot adolescentuli coimus in

Piræum.” Horace,[199] without stating his own opinion, gives, as that

commonly received in his day, that Cæcilius is superior in dignity

(_gravitate_,) Terence in skill (_arte_.)

The prologue of Terence’s comedy of the Hecyra proves that the earlier

plays of Cæcilius had a great struggle to achieve success. The actor who

delivers it, an old favourite with the public, and probably the manager,

apologizes for bringing forward a play which had been once rejected

(_exacta_,) on the ground that by perseverance in a similar course he

had caused the reception and approval of not one but many of the

comedies of Cæcilius which had been unsuccessful, and adds, that of

those which did succeed, some had a narrow escape.

P. TERENTIUS AFER.

P. Terentius Afer was a slave in the family of a Roman senator, P.

Terentius Lucanus. His early history is involved in obscurity, but he is

generally supposed to have been born A. U. C. 561.[200] His cognomen,

Afer, points to an African origin, for it was a common custom to

distinguish slaves by an ethnical name. Whether there is any sufficient

authority for the tradition that he was a native of Carthage is

uncertain. He could not, as was rightly observed by Fenestella,[201]

have been actually a prisoner of war, because he was both born and died

in the interval between the first and second Punic Wars; nor, if he had

been captured by the Numidians or Gætulians in any war which these

tribes carried on with Carthage, could he have come into the possession

of a Roman general by purchase, for there was no commercial intercourse

between these nations and Rome until after the destruction of Carthage.

Another hypothesis has been suggested, which is by no means

improbable.[202] During the interval which elapsed between the first and

second Punic Wars, the Carthaginians were involved in wars with their

own mercenaries, the Numidians, and the southern Iberians. Some

embassies from Rome also visited Carthage. Terence, therefore, may

possibly have been taken prisoner in one of these wars, have been

purchased by a Roman in the Carthaginian slave-market, and so have been

carried to Rome. What his condition was in the house of Lucanus is not

known; but it is clear that he had opportunities of cultivating his

natural talents, and acquiring that refined and masterly acquaintance

with all the niceties and elegancies of the Latin language which his

comedies exhibited, and it is probable, also, that very early in life he

obtained his freedom.

His first essay as a dramatic author was the “Andrian,” perhaps the

most interesting, certainly the most affecting of all his comedies.

Terence, an unknown and obscure young man, offered his play to the

Curule Ædiles. They, accordingly, we are told, referred the new

candidate to the experienced judgment of Cæcilius Statius, then at the

height of his popularity. Terence, in humble garb, was introduced to

the poet whilst he was at supper, and seated on a low stool near the

couch on which Cæcilius was reclining, he commenced reading. He had

finished but a few lines when Cæcilius invited him to sit by him and

sup with him. He rapidly ran through the rest of his play, and gained

the unqualified admiration of his hearer. This story is related by

Donatus, but whether there is any truth in it is very doubtful. It is,

at any rate, certain that “The Andrian” was not brought forward

immediately after obtaining this decision in its favour, for the date

of its first representation[203] is two years subsequent to the death

of Cæcilius.

Talents of so popular a kind as those of Terence, and a genius

presenting the rare combination of all the fine and delicate touches

which characterize true Attic sentiment, without corrupting the native

ingenuous purity of the Latin language, could not long remain in

obscurity. He was soon eagerly sought for as a guest and a companion by

those who could appreciate his powers. The great Roman nobility, such as

the Scipiones, the Lælii, the Scavolæ, and the Metelli, had a taste for

literature. Like the _Tyranni_ in Sicily and Greece, and like some of

the Italian princes in the middle ages, they assembled around them

circles of literary men, of whom the polite and hospitable host himself

formed the nucleus and centre.

The purity and gracefulness of the style of Terence, “_per quam dulces

Latini leporis facetiæ nituerunt_,”[204] show that the conversation of

his accomplished friends was not lost upon his correct ear and quick

intuition. To these habits of good society may also be attributed the

leading moral characteristics of his comedies. He invariably exhibits

the humanity and benevolence of a cultivated mind. He cannot bear

loathsome and disgusting vice: he deters the young from the unlawful

indulgence of their passions by painting such indulgence as inconsistent

with the refined habits and tastes of a gentleman.

His truthfulness compels him to depict habits and practices which were

recognised and allowed, as well by the manners of the Athenians, from

whom his comedies were taken, as by the lax morality of Roman

fashionable society. Nor can we expect from a heathen writer of comedy

so high a tone of morality as to lash vice with the severe censure which

the Christian feels it deserves, however venial society may pronounce it

to be. It is as much as can be hoped for, if we find the principles of

good taste brought forward on the stage to influence public morals. Even

the code of Christian society too often contents itself with rebuking

such vice as interferes with its own comfort or safety, and stigmatizes

conduct, not for its immorality, but for its being unbecoming a

gentleman. It is a standard which has its use, but it is not higher than

the Terentian.

And if the plays of Terence are compared with those of authors

professing to be Christians, which form part of the classical literature

of the English nation, and were unblushingly witnessed on their

representation by some of both sexes, who, nevertheless, professed a

regard for character, how immeasurably superior are the comedies of the

heathen poet! Point out to the young the greater light and knowledge

which the Christian enjoys, and the plays of Terence may be read without

moral danger. No amount of colouring and caution would be sufficient to

shield the mind of an ingenuous youth from the imminent peril of being

corrupted by those of Wycherly and Congreve. Pictures of Roman manners

must represent them as corrupt, or they would not be truthful; but often

a good lesson is elicited from them. When the deceived wife

reproachfully asks her offending husband with what face he can rebuke

his son because he has a mistress when he himself has two wives,[205]

one is far more struck with the honour which the strictness of Roman

virtue paid to the nuptial tie, than offended at the lenient view which

is taken of the young man’s fault. The knaveries and tricks of

Davus[206] meet with sufficient poetical justice in his fright and his

flogging. The very dress in which the Meretrix, or woman of abandoned

morals, was costumed, kept constantly before the eyes of the Roman youth

their grasping avarice, and therefore warned them of the ruin which

awaited their victims; and the well-known passage,[207] in which the

loathsome habits of this class are described, must have been, as Terence

himself says, a preservative of youthful virtue:—

Nosse omnia hæc saluti est adolescentulis.

The Pander, who basely, for the sake of filthy lucre, ministers to the

passions of the young, is represented as the most degraded and

contemptible of mortals. The Parasite, who earns his meal by flattering

and fawning on his rich patron, is made the butt of unsparing ridicule.

And the timid, simple maiden, confiding too implicitly in the affections

of her lover, and sacrificing her interests to that love, and not to

lust or love of gain, is painted in such colours as to command the

spectator’s pity and sympathy, and to call forth his approbation when

she is deservedly reinstated in her position as an honourable matron.

Lastly, her lover is not represented as a profligate, revelling in the

indiscriminate indulgence of his passions, and rendering vice seductive

by engaging manners and fascinating qualities: but we feel that his sin

necessarily results from the absence of a high tone of public morality

to protect the young against temptation; and in all cases the reality

and permanency of his affection for the victim of his wrongdoing is

proved by his readiness and anxiety to become her husband.

So far as it can be so, comedy was in the hands of Terence an instrument

of moral teaching, for it can only be so indirectly by painting men and

manners as they are, and not as they ought to be.

It is said that the patrons of Terence assisted him in the composition

of his comedies, or, at least, corrected their language and style, and

embellished them by the insertion of scenes and passages. An anecdote is

related by Cornelius Nepos,[208] which, if true, at once proves the

point. He says that Lælius was at his villa near Puteoli during the

festival of the Matronalia. On this holiday the power of the Roman

ladies was absolute. Lælius was ordered by his wife to come to supper

early. He excused himself on the ground that he was occupied, and begged

not to be disturbed. When he appeared in the supper-room, he said he had

never been so well satisfied with his compositions. He was asked for a

specimen of what he had written, and immediately repeated a scene in the

“Self-Tormentor”[209] of Terence. Terence, however, gently refutes this

story in the prologue to the “Adelphi,” and gives it a positive

contradiction in the prologue to the comedy in which the passage occurs.

Perhaps he may at first have permitted the report to be credited for the

sake of paying a compliment to his patron.

There is a tradition that he lived and died in poverty, and this tale is

perpetuated in the following lines by Porcius Licinius:——

Nil Publius

Scipio profuit, nihil ei Lælius, nil Furius,

Tres per idem tempus qui agitabant nobiles facillume,

Eorum ille opere ne domum quidem habuit conductitium

Saltem ut esset quo referret obitum domini servulus.

Nothing did Publius Scipio profit him;

Nothing did Lælius, nothing Furius;

At once the three great patrons of our bard.

And yet so niggard of their bounty to him,

He had not even wherewithal to hire

A house in Rome to which a faithful slave

Might bring the tidings of his master’s death. _Colman._

The patrons of Terence, however, never deserved the reproach of

meanness. Nor could the comic poet have been very poor. He received

large sums for his comedies; he had funds sufficient to reside for some

time in Greece; and at his death he possessed gardens on the Appian Way

twenty jugera in extent.

A mystery hangs over his death, which took place B. C. 158.[210] It is

not known whether he died in Greece, or was lost at sea, together with

all the comedies of Menander, which he had translated whilst in Greece,

or whether, after embarking for Asia, he was, as Volcatius writes, never

seen more:——

Ut Afer sex populo edidit comœdias

Iter hinc in Asiam fecit, navim cum semel

Conscendit visus nunquam est. Sic vitâ vacat.

One daughter married to a Roman knight survived him.

Six comedies by Terence remain, and it is probable that these are all

that he ever wrote; they belong to the class technically denominated

_Palliatæ_.

“_The Andrian._”

“The Andrian” was exhibited at the Magalensian games, A. U. C. 588,[211]

when the poet was in his twenty-seventh year. The musical accompaniment

was performed on equal flutes, right-handed and left-handed (_tibiis

paribus dextris et sinistris_;) _i. e._, as the action was of a

serio-comic character, the lively music of the _tibiæ dextræ_ was used

in the comic scenes; the solemn sounds of the _tibiæ sinistræ_

accompanied the serious portion. The manners are Greek, and the scene is

laid at Athens.

The plot is as follows:—Glycerium, a young Athenian girl, is placed

under the care of an Andrian, who educates her with his daughter

Chrysis. On his death Chrysis migrates to Athens, taking Glycerium with

her as her sister, and is driven by distress to become a courtesan.

Pamphilus, the son of Simo, falls in love with Glycerium, and promises

her marriage. Simo accidentally discovers his son’s attachment in the

following manner:—Chrysis dies, and at her funeral Glycerium imprudently

approaches too near to the burning pile. Her lover rushes forward and

embraces her, and affectionately expostulates with her for thus risking

her life. “Dearest Glycerium!” he exclaims, “what are you doing? Why do

you rush to destruction?” Upon this the girl burst into a flood of

tears, and threw herself into his arms. Simo had meanwhile betrothed

Pamphilus to Philumena, the daughter of Chremes; and although he had

discovered his son’s passion, and Chremes had heard of the promise of

marriage, he pretends that the marriage with Philumena shall still take

place, in order that he may discover what his son’s real sentiments are.

In this difficulty, Pamphilus applies to Davus, a cunning and clever

slave, who advises him to offer no opposition. At this crisis Glycerium

is delivered of a child, which Davus causes to be laid at the door of

Simo. Chremes sees the infant, and, understanding that Pamphilus is the

father, refuses to give him his daughter. The opportune arrival of

Crito, an Andrian, discovers to Chremes that Glycerium is his own

daughter, whom on a former absence from Athens he had intrusted to his

brother Phania, now dead. Consequently Glycerium is married to

Pamphilus, and Philumena is given to a young lover, named Charinus, who

had hitherto pressed his suit in vain.

“The Andrian” was, as it deserved to be, eminently successful, and

encouraged the young author to persevere in the career which he had

chosen. The interest is well sustained, the action is natural, and many

scenes touching and pathetic, whilst the serious parts are skilfully

relieved by the adroitness of Davus, and his cleverness in getting out

of the scrapes in which his cunning involves him. Cicero[212] praises

the funeral scene[213] as an example of that talent for narrative which

Terence constantly displays. The substance of his criticism is, that the

poet has attained conciseness without the sacrifice of beauty; and

whilst he has avoided wearisome affectation, has not omitted any details

which are agreeable and interesting. Nothing can be more beautiful than

the struggle between the love and filial duty of Pamphilus,[214] which

ends with his determination to yield to his father’s will; nothing more

candid than his confession, or more upright than his earnest desire not

to be suspected of suborning Crito.

“The Andrian” has been closely imitated in the comedy of “The Conscious

Lovers,” by Sir Richard Steele; but in natural and graceful wit, as well

as ingenuity, the English play is far inferior to the Roman original.

“_Eunuchus._”

“The Eunuch” is a transcript of a comedy by Menander. Even the

characters are the same, except that Gnatho and Thraso together occupy

the place of Colax (the flatterer) in the original Greek. It was

represented in the consulship of M. Valerius Messala and C. Fannius

Strabo.[215] The musical accompaniment was Lydian. It was the most

popular of all Terence’s plays, and brought the author the largest sum

of money that had ever been paid for a comedy previously, namely, 8,000

sestertii, a sum equivalent to about 65_l._ sterling. In vain Lavinius,

Terence’s most bitter rival, endeavoured to interrupt the performance,

and to accuse the author of plagiarism. His defence was perfectly

successful, and Suetonius states[216] that it was called for twice in

one day.

“The Eunuch” is not equal to some of Terence’s plays in wit and humour;

but the plot is bustling and animated, and the dialogue gay and

sparkling: it is also unquestionably the best acting play of the whole.

There is no play in which there is a greater individuality of character,

or more effect of histrionic contrast. The lovesick and somewhat

effeminate Phædria contrasts well with the ardent and passionate Chærea,

the swaggering, bullying Thraso with the pompous, philosophical

parasite, who proposes to found a Gnathonic School. Parmeno is quite as

crafty, but far more clever, than Davus, and his description of the

evils of love is the perfection of shrewd wisdom.

The plot is as follows:—Pamphila, the daughter of an Athenian citizen,

was kidnapped in her infancy, and sold to a Rhodian. He gave her to a

courtesan, who educated her with her own daughter Thais. Subsequently

Thais removes to Athens; and on the mother’s death Pamphila is sold to a

soldier, named Thraso. The soldier, being in love with Thais, resolves

to make her a present of his purchase; but Thais has got another lover,

Phædria, and Thraso refuses to give Pamphila to Thais unless Phædria is

first turned off. She, thinking that she has discovered Pamphila’s

relations, and anxious to restore her to them, persuades Phædria to

absent himself for two days, in order that Thraso may present her with

the maiden. Meanwhile Chærea, Phædria’s younger brother, sees Pamphila

accidentally, and falls desperately in love with her. He, therefore,

persuades his brother’s slave, Parmeno, to introduce him into Thais’

house in the disguise of a eunuch, whom Phædria has intrusted him to

convey to her during his absence. This leads to an _éclaircissement_.

Pamphila is discovered to be an Athenian citizen, and her brother

Chremes gives her in marriage to Chærea.

The most skilful part of this play is the method by which Terence has

connected the underplot between Parmeno and Pythias, the waiting-maid of

Thais, with the main action, their quarrels being entirely instrumental

in bringing about the _dénouement_. Of all the comedies of Terence, the

moral tone of this is the lowest and most degrading. The connivance of

Laches the father of Chærea, at his son’s illicit amour with Thais,

presents a sad picture of moral corruption, as the arrangement coolly

made between Phædria and Gnatho[217] displays the meanness, which

evidently was not considered inconsistent with the habits of Roman

society.

Grievous as are these blemishes, this comedy must always be a favourite.

There are in it passages of which the lapse of ages has not diminished

the pungency: take, for example, the quiet satire contained in the

contrast which Chærea draws between the healthful and natural beauty of

his mistress and the “every-day forms of which his eyes are weary:”—

CH. Haud similis virgo est virginum nostrarum; quas matres student

Demissis humeris esse, vincto pectore, ut graciles sient;

Si qua est habitior paulo, pugilem esse aiunt; deducunt cibum,

Tametsi bona est natura, reddunt curatura junceas:

Itaque ergo amantur.

PA. Quid tua istæc.

CH. Nova figura oris.

PA. Papæ!

CH. Color verus, corpus solidum et succi plenum.[218]

“The Eunuch” suggested the plot of Sir Charles Sedley’s “Bellamira,” was

translated by Lafontaine, and imitated in “Le Muet” of Brueys.

“_Heautontimorumenos._”

“The Self-Punisher” is a translation from Menander. It was acted the

first time with Phrygian music, the second time with Lydian, in the

consulship of the celebrated Ti. Sempronius Gracchus and M. Juventius

Thalna.[219] This play may be considered as the masterpiece of Terence;

it was a great favourite, notwithstanding its seriousness, and the

absence of comic drollery throughout. Steele[220] remarks with truth,

that it is a picture of human life; but there is not in the whole one

passage which could raise a laugh. It is a good specimen of the refined

taste of Terence, who, unlike Plautus, abhorred vulgarity and ribaldry,

and did not often condescend even to humour. Its favourable reception,

moreover, proves that, notwithstanding the preference which the Roman

people were inclined to give to gladiatorial shows, and the more

innocent amusements of buffoons and rope-dancers, and the noisy mirth

with which theatrical entertainments were frequently interrupted, they

could appreciate and enjoy a skilfully-constructed plot, and that

quality which Terence especially claims for this comedy,[221] purity of

style. The noble sentiment,

Homo sum, nihil humanum a me alienum puto,

was received by the whole audience with a burst of applause.

_Plot._——Clinia, the son of Menedemus, falls in love with Antiphila,

supposed to be the daughter of a poor Corinthian woman, and, to avoid

his father’s anger, enters the service of the king of Persia. Menedemus,

repenting of his severity, punishes himself by purchasing a farm, and,

giving up all the luxuries of a town life, works hard from morning to

night. Like Laertes, in the Odyssey, he seeks by occupation to divert

his mind from the contemplation of his son’s absence:—

The mournful hour that tore his son away

Sent the sad sire in solitude to stray;

Yet, busied with his slaves, to ease his wo

He drest the vine, and bade the garden blow.

_Odys._ xvi. 145.

Clinia returns from Asia, and takes up his abode at the house of his

friend Clitipho, the son of Chremes. This Clitipho has fallen in love

with Bacchis, an extravagant courtesan; and Syrus, an artful slave,

persuades him to pass off Bacchis as the object of Clinia’s affection,

and Antiphila as her waiting-maid. Chremes, next day, to whom Menedemus

had communicated his grief and remorse, acquaints him with the return of

his son, and recommends him to pretend ignorance of his amour. By the

intrigues and knavery of Syrus, Chremes is induced to pay 10 minæ

(40_l._) to Clitipho for the support of Bacchis. Sostrata, the wife of

Chremes, has mean while discovered, by a ring in her possession, that

Antiphila is her daughter. She had, according to the cruel Athenian

practice, given her to the Corinthian in infancy that she might not be

exposed; she had given the ring, the means of her discovery, at the same

time. Clinia, therefore, marries Antiphila; and Chremes, although

enraged at the imposition of Syrus, forgives him and his son, and

Clitipho promises that he will give up Bacchis and marry a neighbour’s

daughter.

This play abounds in amiable and generous sentiments and passages of

simple and graphic beauty. The whole scene, in which the habits of the

poor girl whom Clinia loves is described, is exquisitely true to nature.

Her occupation is like that of the chaste Lucretia in the legend:—

Texentem telam studiose ipsam offendimus,

Mediocriter vestitam veste lugubri,

Ejus anuis causa, opinor, quæ erat mortua;

Sine auro, tum ornatam, ita uti quæ ornantur sibi;

Nulla mala re esse expolitam muliebri;

Capillus passus, prolixus, circum caput

Rejectus negligenter.

_Heaut._ II. iii.

Busily plying of the web we found her,

Decently clad in mourning, I suppose,

For the deceased old woman. She had on

No gold, or trinkets, but was plain and neat,

And dressed like those who dress but for themselves.

No female varnish to set off her beauty;

Her hair dishevelled, long, and flowing loose

About her shoulders.

The reader cannot but sympathize with the remark of Clitipho, when he

has heard this description of virtuous poverty,—“If all this is true, as

I believe it is, you are the most fortunate of men.”

The degraded Bacchis also reads a valuable lesson to her sex, when she

shows the blessings of the path of virtue from which she has strayed:—

Nam expedit bonas esse vobis: nos, quibuscum est res, non sinunt;

Quippe forma impulsi nostra, nos amatores colunt:

Hæc ubi immutata est, illi suum animum alio conferunt.

Nisi si prospectum interea aliquid est, desertæ vivimus.

Vobis cum uno semel ubi ætatem agere decretum ’st viro,

Cujus mos maxume ’st consimilis vostrum, hi se ad vos applicant.

Hoc beneficio utrique ab utrisque vero devincimini,

Ut nunquam ulla amori vestro incidere possit calamitas.

_Heaut._ II. iv.

Virtue’s your interest: those with whom we deal

Forbid it to be ours; for our gallants,

Charmed by our beauty, court us but for that;

Which, fading, they transfer their love to others.

If, then, mean while we look not to ourselves,

We live forlorn, deserted, and distressed.

You, when you’ve once agreed to pass your life

Bound to one man whose temper suits with yours,

He too attaches his whole heart to you.

Thus mutual friendship draws you each to each;

Nothing can part you, nothing shake your love.

How beautiful, too, is the unselfish devotion of Antiphila, when she

artlessly professes to know nothing of other women’s feelings, but to

know this one thing only, that her happiness is wrapped up in that of

her lover!——

Nescio alias; me quidem semper scio fecisse sedulo

Ut ex illius commodo meum compararem commodum.

II. iv. 16.

PHORMIO.

The Phormio is a translation or adaptation of the Epidicazomene (_the

subject of the law suit_) of Apollodorus: it was entitled Phormio.

Quia primas partes qui aget, is erit Phormio

Parasitus, per quem res geretur maxume.[222]

It was acted four times; on the last occasion, in the consulship of C.

Fannius Strabo and M. Valerius Messala,[223] at the Roman or Circensian

games.

_Plot._——Chremes, an Athenian, although he has a wife at Athens,

(Nausistrata,) marries another at Lemnos under the feigned name of

Stilpho. By her he has a daughter, Phanium. When she has attained a

marriageable age, Chremes arranges with his brother Demipho, that she

shall become the wife of his son Antipho. After this, the two old men

leave Athens; and in their absence Demipho’s son, Phædria, falls in love

with a minstrel-girl, and the Lemnian wife arrives at Athens, together

with her daughter Phanium. There she dies; and Antipho, seeing Phanium

at the funeral, becomes enamoured of her. Not knowing what to do, he

takes the advice of Phormio. In the case of a destitute orphan, the

Athenian law compelled the nearest of kin to marry her or to give a

portion. Phormio brings an action against Antipho; the case is proved,

and he marries Phanium. The old men return, and Chremes, not knowing

that Phanium is his own daughter, is desperately angry. Mean while,

Dorio, the owner of Pamphila, threatens to sell her to some one else

unless Phædria will immediately pay him thirty minæ. Geta, a knavish

servant of Demipho, procures this money by telling the old gentleman

that Phormio is willing to take Antipho’s wife off his hands on

condition of receiving thirty minæ. Phanium is eventually discovered and

acknowledged, and thus matters are happily concluded. Nausistrata is at

first very angry, but relents on the submission of the repentant

Chremes.

This comedy supplied Molière with a large portion of the materials for

“Les Fourberies de Scapin.”

HECYRA.

This comedy, which, if the inscription may be trusted, is a translation

or adaptation from one by Menander, was the least successful of all the

plays of Terence. Twice it was rejected; on the first occasion, as the

prologue to its second representation informs us, owing to “an

unheard-of calamity and impediment.”[224] The thoughts of the public

were so occupied by a rope-dancer that they would not hear a word.

Terence feared to risk a second representation on the same day; but such

confidence had he in the merits of the play, that he offered it a second

time for sale to the ædiles, and it was acted again in the consulship of

Cn. Octavius and T. Manlius.[225] It was acted a third time at the

funeral games of L. Æmilius Paulus, when it was again rejected. On its

next representation, it was successful; and Ambivius Turpio, by whose

theatrical company it was performed, and whose popularity had already

caused the revival of some unsuccessful plays,[226] undertook to plead

its cause in a new prologue. This prologue enters fully into the

circumstances which caused its rejection. It states that some renowned

boxers and expected performances of a rope-dancer caused a great tumult

and disturbance, especially among the female part of the audience; that,

at the next representation, the first act went off with applause, but a

rumour spread of a gladiatorial combat, the people flocked to a show

which was more congenial to their taste, and the theatre was deserted.

In conclusion, for the sake of the art of poetry, for the encouragement

of himself to buy new plays, and for the protection of the poet from

malicious critics, Ambivio entreated the patient attention of the

audience; and the appeal of the old favourite servant of the public was

successful.

The Hecyra is, without doubt, inferior to the other plays of Terence,

and probably for that reason has never been imitated in modern

literature. It is a drama of domestic life, and yet the plot is

deficient in interest, and the scenes want life and variety.

_Plot._—Pamphilus, at the desire of his father, Laches, marries

Philumena, the daughter of Phidippus and Myrrhina, but being involved in

an amour with Bacchis, has no affection for his wife, and avoids all

intercourse with her. Meanwhile, Bacchis offended at his marriage, shows

such an ill-temper, that his affection is weaned from her and

transferred to Philumena. Pamphilus then goes to Imbrus, and on his

return is surprised with the news that Philumena has left his father’s

house, and subsequently discovers that she has given birth to a son. He

refuses, consequently, to receive her as his wife; but as he loves her

to distraction, he promises her mother that he will keep her shame

secret. As he will neither live with his wife nor assign any reason,

Bacchis is suspected of being the cause. But she clears herself from the

suspicion. Myrrhina, however, recognises upon her finger a ring

belonging to her daughter. This leads to the _dénouement_. Pamphilus had

one night when intoxicated met Philumena, and offered her violence. He

had forced a ring from her finger and given it to Bacchis. He,

therefore, with joy, acknowledges the child as his own, and restores his

injured wife to his affections.

The comedy derives its title, Hecyra (the mother-in-law,) from the part

taken by Sostrata, the mother of Pamphilus. Laches, unable to account

for the conduct of Philumena and his son, is firmly persuaded that his

wife Sostrata had taken a prejudice against her daughter-in-law, and

Pamphilus, notwithstanding his dutiful affection for his mother, cannot

avoid being under a similar impression. Sostrata, in order to remove

this suspicion, offers with noble generosity to leave the house in order

that Philumena may return.

This amiable rivalry of maternal devotion on the one hand, and filial

respect on the other, constitutes the most interesting portion of the

comedy; and Terence has thus endeavoured to rescue the relation of

mother-in-law from the prejudice which, too often deservedly, attached

to it.

ADELPHI.

This comedy was acted at the funeral games of L. Æmilius Paulus

Macedonius, the conqueror of Perseus, in the consulship of L. Anicius

Gallus and M. Cornelius Cethegus.[227] The music was Sarrane or Tyrian,

the grave character of which was suitable to the solemnity of the

occasion. The cost of the representation was borne by Q. Fabius Maximus,

and P. C. Scipio Africanus, the sons of the deceased.

_Plot._—Demea, a country gentleman and a strict disciplinarian, has two

sons, Æschinus and Ctesipho. Æschinus, the elder, is adopted by his

uncle Micio, a bachelor of indulgent temper and somewhat loose

principles, who lives a town life at Athens. Whilst Ctesipho is brought

up strictly in the country, Æschinus is educated with too great

indulgence, and pursues a course of riot and extravagance. One night, in

a moment of drunken passion, he offers violence to Pamphila, a young

maiden, well born but poor; for which outrage he makes amends by a

promise of marriage. Ctesipho soon after falls in love with a minstrel

girl whom he accidentally meets; and Æschinus, to save his brother from

his father’s anger, conceals his amour and takes the discredit of it

upon himself. At last he assaults the pander to whom the girl belongs,

takes her away by force, and gives her to his brother. The affair comes

to Demea’s ears, who severely reproves Micio for ruining his son by

injudicious indulgence. Matters are at length explained, and the

marriage between Æschinus and Pamphila takes place, the minstrel girl is

assigned to Ctesipho, and the price for her paid. The old bachelor,

Micio, marries Sostrata, the mother of Pamphila, and, according to the

usual rule of comedy, all the inferior persons of the drama are made

happy.

Lax as the morals are which Micio refrains from correcting, his conduct

illustrates a valuable principle in education; that——

There is a way of winning more by love

And urging of the modesty than fear.

Force works on servile humours, not the free.

_Ben Jonson._

Nor are the evils likely to arise from indifference to moral principle

left entirely without an antidote. A wise and not indiscriminate

indulgence is upheld by Demea; and, at the conclusion of the play, he

announces his deliberate change of character, but, at the same time,

points out the pernicious errors of that kindness and indulgence which

proceeds from impulse and not from principle.

Dicam tibi:

Ut id ostenderem, quod te isti facilem et festivum putant,

Id non fieri ex vera vita, neque adeo ex æquo et bono;

Sed assentando atque indulgendo et largiendo, Micio.

Nunc adeo, si ob eam rem vobis mea vita invisa, Æschine, est,

Quia non justa, injusta, prorsus omnia omnino obsequor;

Missa facio; effundite, emite, facite, quod vobis lubet.

Sed si id voltis potius, quæ vos propter adulescentiam

Minus videtis, magis impense cupitis, consulitis parum,

Hæc reprehendere et corrigere quam, obsecundare in loco;

Ecce me qui id faciam vobis.

Now, therefore, if I’m odious to you, son,

Because I’m not subservient to your humour

In all things, right or wrong; away with care:

Spend, squander, and do what you will. But if,

In those affairs where youth has made you blind,

Eager, and thoughtless, you will suffer me

To counsel and correct you, and in due season

Indulge you, I am at your service. _Colman._

This twofold lesson is by no means a useless one to parents, not to

purchase the affection of their children by injudicious indulgence like

Micio, nor, on the other hand, like Demea, to strain the cord too tight,

and thus tempt their children to pursue a course of deceit, and to

refuse their confidence to their natural advisers and guardians. The

most beautiful feature, however, of the play is the picture which it

gives of fraternal affection. This was the last comedy of the author. It

furnished Molière with the idea of his “Ecole des Maris,” and Baron with

great part of the plot of “L’Ecole de Pères.” Shadwell was also indebted

to it for his “Squire of Alsatia,” and Garrick for his comedy of “The

Guardian.”

The following comparison of the two great Roman comic poets by a French

critic is a just one:——

“Ce poète (Térence) a beaucoup plus d’art, mais il me semble que l’autre

a plus d’esprit. Terence fait beaucoup plus parler qu’agir; l’autre fait

plus agir que parler: et c’est le véritable caractère de la comédie, qui

est beaucoup plus dans l’action que dans le discours. Cette vivacité me

paroît donner encore un grand avantage à Plaute; c’est que ses intrigues

sont bien variées, et ont toujours quelque chose qui surprend

agréablement; au lieu que le théâtre semble languir quelquefois dans

Térence, à qui la vivacité de l’action et les nœuds des incidens et des

intrigues manquent manifestement.”

If Terence was inferior to Plautus in life and bustle and intrigue, and

in the powerful delineation of national character, he is superior in

elegance of language and refinement of taste; he far more rarely offends

against decency, and he substitutes delicacy of sentiment for vulgarity.

The justness of his reflections more than compensates for the absence of

his predecessor’s humour: he touches the heart as well as gratifies the

intellect.

If he was deficient in _vis comica_, it is only the defect which Cæsar

attributed to Roman comedy generally; and Cicero, who thought that Roman

wit was even more piquant than Attic salt itself, paid him a merited

compliment in the following line:——

Quicquid come loquens atque omnia dulcia dicens.

It has been objected to Terence that he superabounds in

soliloquies;[228] but it is not surprising that he should have delighted

in them, since no author ever surpassed him in narrative. His natural

and unaffected simplicity renders him the best possible teller of a

story: he never indulges in a display of forced wit or in attempts at

epigrammatic sharpness; there are no superfluous touches, although his

pictures are enlivened by sufficient minuteness; his moral lessons are

conveyed in familiar proverb-like suggestions, not in dull and pedantic

dogmatism.

The remaining comic poets will require but brief notice. L. Afranius was

a contemporary of Terence, and flourished about B. C. 150. His comedies

were all of the lowest class of _fabulæ togatæ_ (tabernariæ;) and he was

generally allowed by the critics to possess great skill in accommodating

the Greek comedy to the representation of Roman manners:——

Dicitur Afrani _toga_ convenisse Menandro.

_Hor. Ep._ II. i. 57.

His style was short and eloquent (_perargutus et disertus_,)[229] but he

was a man of low tastes and profligate morals;[230] and, therefore,

although, from living amidst the scenes of vulgar vice which he

delighted to paint, his characters were true to nature, they were

revolting and disgusting. His immorality, probably, as much as his

talent, caused him to continue a favourite under the most corrupt times

of the empire. Fragments and titles of many of his comedies have been

preserved.

The name of Atilius is made known to us by Cicero, who mentions him

three times. In a letter to Atticus,[231] he calls him a most crabbed

poet (_poeta durissimus_,) and quotes the following line from one of his

comedies:—

Suam cuique sponsam, mihi meam; suum cuique amorem, mihi meum.

In the treatise “_De Finibus_,”[232] he speaks of him as the author of a

bad translation of the Electra of Sophocles, and refers to the testimony

of Licinius, who pronounces him as “hard as iron”——

Ferreum scriptorem; verum opinor; scriptorem tamen

Ut legendus sit;

and, lastly, in the “Tusculan Disputations,”[233] he gives the title of

one of his plays—Μισογυνος (the Woman-hater.) Of his birth and private

history nothing has been recorded.

P. Licinius Tegula is generally supposed to have been one of the oldest

of the Latin comic writers, having flourished as early as the beginning

of the second century B. C. The few fragments which remain of his works

afford no opportunity of determining how far he deserved the place

assigned to him in the epigram of Volcatius.

Lavinius Luscius is severely criticised by Terence in his prologues to

the Eunuchus, Heautontimorumenos, and Phormio, although he is not

mentioned by name. Terence, however, defends the severity of his

strictures, on the ground that Luscius was the first aggressor. In the

first of the above-mentioned prologues, we are informed that he

translated well; but, by unskilful alterations and adaptations of the

plots, made bad Latin comedies out of good Greek ones:—

—— bene vertendo et describendo male

Ex Græcis bonis Latinas fecit non bonas.

Two plays of Menander are mentioned as having been thus ill-treated—the

Phasma (Phantom,) and the Thesaurus (Treasure.) How he spoilt the plot

of the former is not stated; but in the version of the Thesaurus,

Terence convicts Luscius of a legal blunder. A young prodigal has sold

his inheritance, on which his father’s tomb stands, to an old miser. The

father, foreseeing the consequence of his son’s extravagance, had,

before his death, bid him open the tomb after the expiration of ten

years. He does so, and finds a treasure. The old man claims the treasure

as his own, and the young man brings an action to recover it. The

mistake of which Luscius was guilty, was, that in the conduct of the

cause he made the defendant open the pleadings instead of the plaintiff.

Of the works of Q. Trabea no fragments remain except the short passages

quoted by Cicero,[234] and the time at which he flourished is unknown.

There is an anecdote which relates that Muretus presented to Jos.

Scaliger a translation in Latin verse from a poem of Philemon, preserved

by Stobæus, which he pretended was by Trabea. Scaliger was imposed upon;

and in his notes on Varro, quoted the verses of Muretus as the work of

Trabea. When he discovered the trick, he suppressed them in the Latin

editions of his notes, and revenged himself on Muretus by a libellous

epigram.[235]

The last of these dramatic writers who remains to be mentioned is Sextus

Turpilius. A few fragments, as well as the titles of some of his plays,

are still extant. All the titles are Greek, and, therefore, probably his

comedies were _Fabulæ Palliatæ_. He flourished during the second century

B. C., and died, according to the Eusebian Chronicle, at the

commencement of the first century.[236]

CHAPTER VIII.

WHY TRAGEDY DID NOT FLOURISH AT ROME—NATIONAL LEGENDS NOT INFLUENTIAL

WITH THE PEOPLE—FABULÆ PRÆTEXTATÆ—ROMAN RELIGION NOT IDEAL—ROMAN LOVE

FOR SCENES OF REAL ACTION AND GORGEOUS SPECTACLE—TRAGEDY NOT PATRONISED

BY THE PEOPLE—PACUVIUS—HIS DULORESTES AND PAULUS.

From what has been already said, it is sufficiently clear that the

Italians, like all other Indo-European races, had some taste for the

drama, but that this taste developed itself in a love for scenes of

humorous satire. Whilst, therefore, Roman comedy originated in Italy,

and was brought to perfection by the influence of Greek literature,

Roman tragedy,[237] on the other hand, was transplanted from Athens, and

with the exception of a very few cases, was never anything more than

translation or imitation.

In the century, during which, together with comedy, it flourished and

decayed, it boasted of five distinguished writers—Livius, Nævius,

Ennius, Pacuvius, and Attius. The only claim of Atilius to be considered

as a tragic poet is his having been the translator of one Greek tragedy.

But, in after ages, Rome did not produce one tragic poet unless Varius

can be considered an exception. His tragedy, _Thyestes_, which enjoyed

so high a reputation amongst the critics of the Augustan age, that

Quintilian, whose judgment generally agrees with them, pronounces it as

able to bear comparison with the productions of the Greek tragic poets.

It was acted on one occasion, namely, after the return of Octavius from

the battle of Actium, and the poet received for it 1,000,000 sesterces

(about 8,000_l._)[238] The tragedies attributed to Seneca were never

acted, and were only composed for reading and recitation.

Some account has already been given of Livius, Nævius, and Ennius,

because their poetical reputation rests rather on other grounds than on

their talents for dramatic poetry. But, before proceeding with the lives

and writings of Pacuvius and Attius, it will be necessary to examine the

causes which prevented tragedy from flourishing at Rome.

In endeavouring to account for this phenomenon, it is not sufficient to

say, that in the national legends of the Hellenic race were imbodied

subjects essentially of a dramatic character, and that epic poetry

contained incidents, characters, sentiments, and even dramatic

machinery, which only required to be put upon the stage. Doubtless the

Greek epics and legends were an inexhaustible source of inspiration to

the tragic poets. But it is also true that the Romans had national

legends which formed the groundwork of their history, and were

interwoven in their early literature. These legends, however, were

private, not public property; they were preserved in the records and

pedigrees of private families, and ministered to their glory, and were

therefore more interesting to the members of these houses than to the

people at large: they were not preserved as a national treasure by

priestly families, like those of the Attic Eumolpidæ, nor did they twine

themselves around the hearts of the Roman people, as the venerable

traditions of Greece did around those of that nation. The Romans did not

live in them—they were embalmed in their poets as curious records of

antiquity or acknowledged fictions—they did not furnish occasions for

awakening national enthusiasm. Although, therefore, they existed, they

were comparatively powerless over the popular mind as elements of

dramatic effect.

They were jealously preserved by illustrious houses, furnished materials

in a dry and unadorned form to the annalists, and were embellished by

the graphic power of the historian; but it is not probable that they

ever constituted, in the same sense as the Greek legends, the folklore

of the Roman people. In themselves, the lays of Horatius and of the lake

Regillus were sufficiently stirring, and those of Lucretia, Coriolanus,

and Virginia sufficiently moving, for tragedy, but they were not

familiar to the masses of the people.

A period at length arrived in which there was a still further reason why

Roman national legends, however adapted for tragedy they might be

abstractedly, had not power to move the affections of the Roman

populace. It ceased to have a personal interest in them. The masses had

undergone a complete change. The Roman people of the most flourishing

literary eras were not the descendants of those who maintained the

national glory in the legendary period. Not only were almost all the

patrician families then extinct, but war and poverty had extinguished

the middle classes, and miserably thinned the lower orders. The old

veterans of pure Roman blood who survived were settled at a distance

from Rome in the different military colonies. Into the vacancy thus

caused had poured thousands of slaves, captives in the bloody wars of

Gaul and Spain, and Greece and Africa. These and their descendants

replaced the ancient people. Many of them received liberty and

franchise, and some by their talents and energy arrived at wealth and

station. But they could not possibly be Romans at heart, or consider the

past glories of their adopted country as their own. They were bound by

no ties of old associations to it. The ancient legends had no especial

interest in their eyes. It mattered little whether the incidents and

characters of the tragedy which they witnessed were Greek or Roman. It

was to the rise of this new element of population, and the displacement

or absorption of the old race, that the decline of patriotism was

owing—the careless disregard of everything except daily sustenance and

daily amusement,[239] which paved the way for the empire, and marked the

downfall of liberty. From this cause, also, resulted in some degree the

non-influential position which national traditions occupied at Rome; and

tragedy, though for a time popular, could not maintain its popularity.

Thus it entirely disappeared; and, when it revived, it came forth, not

as the favourite of the people, but under the patronage of select

circles, and took its place, not like Athenian tragedy, as the leading

literature of the age, but simply as one species of literary

composition.

A people made up of these elements held out no temptation to the poet to

leave the beaten track of his predecessor, the imitations of Greek

tragedy. They were step-sons of Rome, as Scipio Æmilianus called the

mob, who clamoured at his saying that the death of Tiberius Gracchus was

just:—

Mercedibus emptæ

Et viles operæ quibus est mea Roma noverca.

_Petron._ v. 164.

The poet’s real patrons had been educated on Greek principles; and hence

Greek taste was completely triumphant over national legend, and the

heroes of Roman tragedy were those who were celebrated in Hellenic

story. The Roman historical plays, (prætextatæ,) which approached most

nearly towards realizing the idea of a national tragedy, were graceful

compliments to distinguished individuals. They were usually performed at

public funerals; and as, in the procession, masks representing the

features of the deceased were borne by persons of similar stature, so

incidents in his life formed the subject of the drama which was

exhibited on the occasion.

The list of _Fabulæ Prætextatæ_, even if it were perfect, would occupy

but narrow limits; nor had they sufficient merits to stand the test of

time. They survive but in name, and the titles extant are but nine in

number:——

The Paulus of Pacuvius, which represented an incident in the life of L.

Æmilius Paulus.[240]

The Brutus, Æneadæ, and Marcellus of Attius.[241]

Iter ad Lentulum, a passage in the life of Balbus.[242]

Cato.

Domitius Nero, by Maternus, in the time of Vespasian.

Vescio, by the Satirist (?) Persius.

Octavian, by Seneca, in the reign of Trajan.

Nor must it be forgotten, in comparing the influence which tragedy

exercised upon the people of Athens and Rome, that with the former it

was a part and parcel of the national religion. By it not only were the

people taught to sympathize with their heroic ancestors, but their

sympathies were hallowed. In Greece, the poet was held to be

inspired—poetry was the voice of deified nature—the tongue in which the

natural held communion with the supernatural, the visible with the

invisible. With the Romans, poetry was nothing more than an amusement of

the fancy; with the Greeks, it was a divinely originating emotion of the

soul.

Hence, in Athens, the drama was, as it were, an act of worship,—it

formed an integral part of a joyous, yet serious, religious festival.

The theatre was a temple; the altar of a deity was its central point;

and a band of choristers moved in solemn march and song in honour of the

god, and, in the didactic spirit which sanctified their office, taught

men lessons of virtue. Not that the audience entered the precincts with

their hearts imbued with holy feelings, or with the thoughts of

worshippers; but this is always the case when religious ceremonials

become sensuous. The real object of the worship is by the majority

forgotten. But still the Greeks were habituated unconsciously to be

affected by the drama, as by a development of religious sentiments. With

the Romans, the theatre was merely a place of secular amusement. The

thymele existed no longer as a memorial of the sacrifice to the god. The

orchestra, formerly consecrated to the chorus, was to them nothing more

than stalls occupied by the dignitaries of the state. Dramas were

certainly exhibited at the great Megalensian games, but they were only

accessories to the religious character of the festival. A holy season

implies rest and relaxation—a _holiday_ in the popular sense of the

word—and theatrical representations were considered a fit and proper

species of pastime; but as religion itself did not exercise the same

influence over the popular mind of the Romans which it did over that of

the Greeks, so neither with the Romans did the drama stand in the place

of the handmaid of religion.

Again, their religion, though purer and chaster, was not ideal like that

of the Greeks. Its freedom from human passions removed it out of the

sphere of poetry, and, therefore, it was neither calculated to move

terror nor pity. The moral attributes of the Deity were displayed in

stern severity; but neither the belief nor the ceremonial sought to

inflame the heart of the worshipper with enthusiasm. Rome had no

priestly caste uniting in one and the same person the character of the

bard and of the minister of religion. In after ages, she learned from

the Greeks to call the poet sacred, but the holiness which she

attributed to his character was not the earnest belief of the heart. The

Roman priests were civil magistrates; religion, therefore, became a part

of the civil administration, and a political engine. It mattered little

what was believed as true. The old national faith of Italy, not being

firmly rooted in the heart, soon became obsolete: it readily admitted

the engrafting of foreign superstitions. The old deities assumed the

names of the Greek mythology: they exchanged their attributes and

histories for those of Greek legend, and a host of strange gods filled

their Pantheon. They had, however, no hold either on the belief or the

love of the people: they were mythological and unreal characters, fit

only to furnish subjects and embellishments for poetry.

Nor was the genius of the Roman people such as to sympathize with the

legends of the past. The Romans lived in the present and the future,

rather than in the past. The poet might call the age in which he lived

degenerate, and look forward with mournful anticipations to a still

lower degradation, whilst he looked back admiringly to bygone times.

Through the vista of past years, Roman virtue and greatness seemed to

his imagination magnified: he could lament, as Horace did, a gradual

decay, which had not as yet reached its worst point:——

Ætas parentum pejor avis tulit

Nos nequiores mox daturos

Progeniem vitiosiorem.

_Od._ III. vi. 46.

But the people did not sympathize with these feelings: they delighted in

action, not in contemplation and reflection. They did not look back upon

their national heroes as demigods, or dream over their glories: they

were pressing forward and extending the frontiers of their empire,

bringing under their yoke tribes and nations which their forefathers had

not known. If they regarded their ancestors at all, it was not in the

light of men of heroic stature, as compared with themselves, but as

those whom they could equal or even surpass: they lived in hope and not

in memory.

These are not the elements of character which would lead a people to

realize to themselves the ideal of tragedy. The tragic poet at Athens

would have been sure that the same subject which inspired him would also

interest his audience—that if his genius rose to the height which their

critical taste demanded, he could reckon up the sympathy of a theatre

crowded with ten thousand of his countrymen. A Roman tragic poet would

have been deserted for any spectacle of a more stirring nature—his most

affecting scenes and noble sentiments, for scenes of real action and

real life. The bloody combats of the gladiators, the miserable captives

and malefactors stretched on crosses, expiring in excruciating agonies,

or mangled by wild beasts, were real tragedies—the sham fights and

Naumachiæ, though only imitations, were real dramas, in which those

pursuits which most deeply interested the spectators, which constituted

their chief duties and highest glories, were visibly represented. Even

gorgeous spectacles fed their personal vanity and pride in their

national greatness. The spoil of conquered nations, borne in procession

across the stage, reminded them of their triumphs and their victories;

and the magnificent dress of the actors—the model of the captured city,

preceded and followed by its sculptures in marble and ivory—represented

in mimic grandeur the ovation or the triumph of some successful general,

whose return from a distant expedition, laden with wealth, realized the

rumours which had already arrived at the gates of Rome; whilst the

scene, glittering with glass, and gold, and silver, and adorned with

variegated pillars of foreign marble, told ostentatiously of their

wealth and splendour.[243]

Again, the Romans were a rough, turbulent people, full of physical

rather than intellectual energy, loving antagonism, courting peril,

setting no value on human life or suffering. Their very virtues were

stern and severe. The unrelenting justice of a Brutus, representing as

it did the victory of principle over feeling, was to them the height of

virtue. They were ready to undergo the extreme of physical torture with

Regulus, and to devote themselves to death, like Curtius and the Decii.

Hard and pitiless to themselves, they were, as might be expected, the

same towards others. They were, in fact, strangers to both the passions,

which it was the object of tragedy to excite and to purify, Pity and

Terror.[244] They were too stern to pity, too unimaginative to be moved

by the tales of wonder and deeds of horror which affected the tender and

marvel-loving imagination of the Greeks. Being an active, and not a

sentimental people, they did not appreciate moral suffering and the

struggles of a sensitive spirit. They were moved only by scenes of

physical suffering and agony.

The public games of Greece at Olympia, or the Isthmus, were bloodless

and peaceful, and the refinements of poetry mingled with those which

were calculated to invigorate the physical powers and develop manly

beauty. Those of Rome were exhibitions, not of moral, but of physical

courage and endurance: they were sanguinary and brutalizing,—the

amusements of a nation to whom war was not a necessary evil or a

struggle for national existence, for hearths and altars, but a pleasure

and a pastime—the means of gratifying an aggressive ambition. The tragic

feeling of Greece is represented by the sculptured grief of Niobe, that

of Rome by the death-struggles which distort the features and muscles of

the Laocoon. It was, if the expression is allowable, _amphitheatrical_,

not _theatrical_.

To such a people the moral woes of tragedy were powerless; and yet it is

to the people that the drama, if it is to flourish, must look for

patronage. A refined and educated society, such as always existed at

Rome during its literary period, might applaud a happy adaptation from

the Greek tragedians, and encourage a poet in his task—for it is only an

educated and refined taste which can appreciate such talent as skilful

imitation displays; but a tragic drama under such circumstances could

hardly hope to be national. Nor must it be forgotten, with reference to

their taste for spectacle, that the artistic accessories of the drama

would have a better chance of success with a people like the Romans than

literary merit, because the pleasures of art are of a lower and more

sensuous kind. Hence, in the popular eye, the decoration of the theatre

and the costume of the performers naturally became the principal

requisites, whilst the poet’s office was considered subordinate to the

manner in which the play was put upon the stage; and thus the degenerate

theatrical taste which prevailed in the days of Horace called forth the

poet’s well-known and well-deserved criticism.[245]

It cannot, indeed, be asserted that tragedy was never, to a certain

extent, an acceptable entertainment at Rome, but only that it never

flourished at Rome as it did at Athens—that no Roman tragedies can,

notwithstanding all that has been said in their praise and their

defence, be compared with those of Greece, and that the tragic drama

never maintained such a hold on the popular mind as not to be liable to

be displaced by amusements of a more material and less intellectual

kind. It was imitative and destitute of originality. It was introduced

from without as one portion of the new literature; it did not grow

spontaneously by a process of natural development out of preceding eras

of epic and lyric poetry, and start into being, as it did at Athens, at

the very moment when the public mind and taste was ready to receive and

appreciate it.

Three eras, separated from one another by chasms, the second wider than

the first, produced tragic poets. In the first of these flourished

Livius Andronicus, Nævius, and Ennius; in the second Pacuvius and

Attius; in the third Asinius Pollio[246] wrote tragedies, the plots of

which, as the words of Virgil seem to imply, were taken from Roman

history.[247] Varius either wrote, or, as some of the Scholiasts assert,

stole, the “Thyestes” from Cassius or Virgil. Ovid attempted a “Medea,”

of which Quintilian speaks, as being, to say the least, a promising

performance; and even the Emperor Augustus himself, together with other

men of genius, tried their hands, though unsuccessfully, at tragedy. The

epistle of Horace to the Pisos shows at once the prevalence of this

taste, and that general ignorance of the rules and principles of art

required instruction. Ten rhetorical dramas, attributed with good reason

to the philosopher Seneca, complete the catalogue of tragedies belonging

to this era, but with the exception of these, no specimens remain; most

probably they did not merit preservation. The tragedies of the older

school were of a higher stamp, and they kept their place in the public

estimation long enough to give birth to the newer and inferior school.

Passages from the old Latin tragedies quoted by Cicero well deserve the

admiration with which he regarded them; and a fragment of the

“Prometheus” of Attius is marked by a grandeur and sublimity which makes

us regret the almost total loss of this branch of Roman literature.

PACUVIUS (BORN B. C. 220.)

The era at which Roman tragedy reached its highest degree of perfection

was the second of those mentioned, and was simultaneous with that of

comedy. Both nourished together; for, whilst Terence was so successfully

reproducing the wit and manners of the new Attic comedy, M. Pacuvius was

enriching the Roman drama with free imitations of the Greek tragedians.

He was a native of Brundisium, and nephew,[248] or, according to St.

Jerome, grandson of the poet Ennius. Although born as early as B. C.

220, he does not appear to have attained the height of his popularity

until B. C.[249] During his residence at Rome, where he remained until

after his 80th year,[250] he distinguished himself as a painter as well

as a dramatic poet; and one of his pictures in the temple of Hercules

was thought only to be surpassed by the work of Fabius Pictor.[251] He

formed one of that literary circle of which Lælius was so great an

ornament. The close of his long life was passed in the retirement of

Tarentum, where he died in the ninetieth year of his age. A simple and

unpretending epigram is preserved by Aulus Gellius,[252] which may

probably have been written by himself:——

Adulescens, etsi properas, te hoc saxum rogat

Uti ad se aspicias, deinde quod scriptum est, legas.

Hic sunt poetæ Pacuvi Marci sita

Ossa. Hoc volebam, nescius ne esses. Vale!

Pacuvius was a great favourite with those who could make allowances for

the faults, and appreciate the merits, of the great writers of

antiquity, and his verses were popular in the time of J. Cæsar;[253] and

that lover of the old Roman literature, Cicero, though not blind to his

faults, is warm in his commendations. He was not without admirers in the

Augustan age, and even his defects had zealous defenders in the time of

Persius amongst those who could scarcely discover a fault in any work

which savoured of antiquity.[254] The archaic ruggedness of his

language, his uncouth forms, such as _axim_, _tetinerim_,

_egregiissimus_, and his unauthorized constructions, like _mihi piget_,

were due to the unsettled state of the Latin language in his days. His

strange combinations, such as _repandirostrum_ and _incurvicervicum_,

may possibly have been suggested by the study of Greek, and by his

overweening admiration for its facility of composition. But his polish,

pathos, and learning,[255] the harmony of his periods,[256] his

eloquence,[257] his fluency, his word-painting,[258] are peculiarly his

own.

The tragedies of Pacuvius were not mere translations, but adaptations of

Greek tragedies to the Roman stage. The fragments which are extant are

full of new and original thoughts. His plots were borrowed from the

Greek, but the plan and treatment were his own. The lyric portion

appears to have occupied an important place in his tragedies, and

displays considerable imaginative power. It is evident that his mind

only required suggestions, and was sufficiently original, to form new

combinations. The titles of thirteen of his tragedies are

preserved,[259] of which the most celebrated were the “Antiopa” and

“Dulorestes” (Orestes in Slavery.) Of the former, the only fragment

extant is one severely criticised by Persius. The latter was principally

founded on the “Iphigenia in Tauris” of Euripides,[260] although the

author was evidently inspired with the poetical conceptions of Æschylus.

In fact, Pacuvius is less Euripidean than the other Roman tragic poets.

The very roughness of his style and audacity of his expressions have

somewhat of the solemn grandeur and picturesque boldness which

distinguish the father of Attic tragedy.

The subject of the “Dulorestes” was the adventures of the son of

Agamemnon. When driven from the palace of his ancestors, he was in exile

and in slavery.[261] On the first representation of this play, the

generous friendship of Orestes and Pylades called forth the most

enthusiastic applause from the audience, who then probably heard the

legend for the first time. “What acclamations,” says Lælius,[262]

“resounded through the theatre at the representation of the new play of

my guest and friend, M. Pacuvius, when the king, being ignorant which of

the two was Orestes, Pylades affirmed that he was Orestes, that he might

be put to death in his place, whilst Orestes persevered in asserting

that he was the man!”

One of his plays, “Paulus,” was a _fabula prætextata_: its subject was

taken entirely from Roman history, the hero being L. Æm. Paulus, the

conqueror of Perseus. Besides tragedies, the grammarians have attributed

to him one satura.[263] He is said also to have written comedies; but

there is no evidence in favour of any, with the exception of one,

entitled “Mercator.”

CHAPTER IX.

L. ATTIUS—HIS TRAGEDIES AND FRAGMENTS—OTHER WORKS—TRAGEDY DISAPPEARED

WITH HIM—ROMAN THEATRES—TRACES OF THE SATIRIC SPIRIT IN GREECE—ROMAN

SATIRE—LUCILIUS—CRITICISMS OF HORACE, CICERO, AND QUINTILIAN—PASSAGE

QUOTED BY LACTANTIUS—LÆVIUS, A LYRIC POET.

L. ATTIUS (BORN ABOUT B. C. 170.)

Although born about fifty years later than Pacuvius,[264] Attius was

almost his contemporary, and a competitor for popular applause. The

amiable old poet lived on the most friendly terms with his young rival;

and A. Gellius tells us that after he withdrew from the literary society

of Rome to retirement at Tarentum, he on one occasion invited the rising

poet to be his guest for some days, and made him read his tragedy of

“Atreus.” Pacuvius criticised it kindly, fairly praised the grandeur of

the poetry, but said that it was somewhat harsh and hard. “You are

right,” replied Attius, “but I hope to improve. Fruits which are at

first hard and sour, become soft and mellow, but those which begin by

being soft, end in being rotten.” Valerius Maximus[265] relates that in

the assemblies of the poets he refused to rise at the entrance of J.

Cæsar, because he felt that in the republic of letters he was the

superior. If this anecdote is genuine, it does not prove that the aged

poet was guilty of unwarrantable self-esteem, for Cæsar must then have

been quite a youth, and if he had any claim to reputation as a poet, he

was, at any rate, not yet distinguished as a warrior or a statesman.

Amongst the great men whose friendship the poet enjoyed was Dec. Brutus,

who was consul A. U. C. 616.[266] Nothing more is known respecting his

private history, except that his parents were freedmen, and that he was

one of the colonists settled at Pisaurum, where, in after times, a farm

or estate (fundus Attianus) continued to bear his name. His tragedies

were very numerous. He is said to have written more than fifty. Three at

least were _prætextatæ_, their titles being “Brutus,” “The Æneadæ,” or

“Decius,”[267] and “Marcellus.” His “Trachiniæ” and “Phœnissæ” were

almost translations, the one from Sophocles, the other from Euripides;

the rest were free imitations of Greek tragedies. They were

distinguished both for sublimity and pathos; and although he was warmed

by the fiery spirit and tragic grandeur of Æschylus, he evidently

evinced a predilection for Sophocles.[268] His taste is chastened, his

sentiments noble, his versification elegant. His language is almost

classical, and was deservedly admired by the ancients for its polish as

well as its vigour. The “Brutus” was written at the suggestion of his

friend Decimus. The plot was the expulsion of the Tarquins, the hero

Brutus, the heroine Lucretia. He had chosen one of the noblest romances

in Roman history. Two passages,[269] quoted by Cicero, are all that

remain of this national tragedy. In them the tyrant relates to the

augurs a dream which had haunted him, and they, at his request, give

their interpretation of it. Varro has also preserved the soliloquy of

Hercules in the agonies of death, from the Trachiniæ,[270] a noble

paraphrase of Sophocles. This fine specimen of his genius extends to the

length of forty-five lines. In another passage, Philoctetes pours forth

his sufferings in language as touching as the original Greek; and in a

third, Prometheus, now delivered from the tyranny of Jupiter, addresses

to his assembled Titans a strain of indignant eloquence not unworthy of

Æschylus.[271] The following lines from the “Phœnissæ” and the

“Complaint of Philoctetes,” are, though brief, fair examples of his

language and versification:——

Sol, qui micantem candido curru atque equis

Flammam citatis fervido ardore explicas,

Quianam tam adverso augurio et inimico omine

Thebis radiatum lumen ostendis tuum![272]

Heu! quis salsis fluctibus mandet

Me ex sublimi vertice saxi,

Jamjam absumor; conficit animam

Vis volneris, ulceris æstus.[273]

These are the most important of the numerous fragments which are extant

of the various tragedies of the lofty Attius.[274] He has been

considered by some as the founder of the _Tragœdia Prætextatæ_. This,

however, is not true, for there is no doubt that such dramas were

written by his predecessors. Nevertheless, he brought the natural

tragedy to its highest state of perfection.

The time was now evidently approaching when the Romans were beginning to

show, that although they did not possess the inventive genius of the

Greeks, they were capable of stripping their native language of its

rudeness, and of transferring into it the beauties of Greek thought;

that they were no longer mere servile copyists, but could use Greek

poetry as furnishing suggestions for original efforts. They could not

quarry for themselves, but they could now build up Greek materials into

a glowing and polished edifice, of which the details were new and the

effect original.

The metres which Attius used were chiefly the iambic trimeter and the

anapæstic dimeter, but his _prætextatæ_ were written in trochaic and

iambic tetrameters, the rhythm of which proves that his ear was more

refined than that of his predecessors.[275]

It is not known whether he was the author of any comedies, but he was a

historian, an antiquarian, and a critic, as well as a poet. He left

behind him a review of dramatic poetry, entitled “_Libri Didascalion_,”

“Roman Annals,” in verse, and two other works—“_Libri Pragmaticon_,” and

“_Parerga_.” The former of these is quoted by Nonius, and A. Gellius. He

died at an advanced age, probably about A. U. C. 670, and is thus a

link, as it were, which connects the first literary period with the age

of Cicero; for the great orator was personally acquainted with him, and

at his death must have been about twenty-two years of age.

With Attius Latin tragedy disappeared. The tragedies of the third period

were written expressly for reading and recitation, and not for the

stage. They may have deserved the commendations which they obtained, but

the merit and talent which they displayed were simply rhetorical, and

not dramatic; they were dramatic poems, not dramas.

The state of political affairs, which synchronized with the death of

Attius, was less congenial than ever to the tragic muse. Real and bloody

tragedies were being enacted, and there was no room in the heart of the

Roman people for fictitious woes. If it was improbable that a people who

delighted in the sanguinary scenes of the amphitheatre should sympathize

with the sorrows of a hero in tragedy, it was almost impossible that

tragedy should flourish when Rome itself was a theatre in which scenes

of horror were daily enacted.

Either then, or not long before, the terrible domination of Cinna and

Marius had begun. Massacre and violence raged through the streets of

Rome. The best and noblest fell victims to the raging thirst for blood.

The aged Marius, distracted by unscrupulous ambition and savage

passions, died amidst the delirious ravings of remorse, and thus made

way for the tyranny of his perjured accomplice Cinna. Still there was no

respite or interruption. The cruel Sulla sent his orders from Antemnæ to

slaughter 8,000 prisoners in cold blood. The massacre had hardly begun

when he himself arrived, had taken his place in the Senate; and the

shrieks of his murdered victims were audible in the house whilst he was

coolly speaking. This was the beginning of horrors: the notorious

proscription followed. Besides other victims, 5,600 Roman knights

perished.

Amidst such scenes as these, the voice of the tragic muse was hushed.

Depending for her very existence on the breath of popular favour, she

necessarily could not find supporters, and so languished and was

silenced. It might appear surprising that literature of any kind should

have lived through such times of savage barbarism. But other literature

is not dependent upon public patronage: it finds a refuge beneath the

shelter of the private dwelling. The literary man finds friends and

patrons amongst those who, devoted to the humanities of intellectual

pursuits, shuns the scenes of revolutionary strife and the struggles of

selfish ambition. Even Sulla himself had a polished and refined taste;

and, when he resigned the Dictatorship, passed those hours of retirement

in literary studies which were not devoted to depravity and

licentiousness.

The style in which the Roman theatres were built, indicate that whatever

taste for tragedy the Roman people possessed had now decayed. The huge

edifice erected by Pompey was too vast for the exhibition of tragedy.

The forty thousand spectators which it contained could scarcely hear the

actor, still less could they see the expression of human passions and

emotions. The two theatres, placed on pivots, back to back, so that they

could be wheeled round and form one vast amphitheatre, show how an

interest in the drama was shared with the passion for spectacle; and

provision was thus publicly made for gratifying that corrupt taste which

had arrived at its zenith in the time of Horace, and, as we have seen,

interrupted even comedy so early as the times of Terence.

SATIRE.

The invention of satire is universally attributed to the Romans, and

this assertion is true as far as the external form is concerned; but the

spirit of satire is found in many parts of the literature of Greece. It

animated the Homeric Margites, the poem on woman by Simonides, the

bitter lyrical iambics of Archilochus, Stesichorus’ attack on Helen, and

especially, as Horace says, the old comedy of Eupolis, Cratinus, and

Aristophanes. Some resemblance may also be discerned between Roman

satire and the Greek Silli, poems belonging to the declining period of

Greek literature,[276] the design of which was to attack vice and folly

with severe ridicule.[277]

Satire is, in fact, if Horace may be believed, the form which comedy

took amongst the people with whom the drama did not flourish. Ennius was

the inventor of the name, but Lucilius[278] was the father of satire, in

the proper sense, and was at Rome what the writers of the old comedy

were at Athens. It subsequently occupied a wider field: Persius and

Juvenal confined themselves to its didactic purpose, but Horace made it

a vehicle for the narration of amusing adventure, and picturesque

descriptions of human life.

The Satires of Lucilius mark an era in Roman literature, and prove that

a love for this species of poetry had already made great progress.

Hitherto, science, literature, and art, had been considered the province

of slaves and freedmen. The stern old Roman virtue despised such

sedentary and inactive employment as intellectual cultivation, and

thought it unworthy of the warrior and statesman. Some of the higher

classes loved literature and patronised it, but did not make it their

pursuit. Cato blamed M. Fulvius Nobilior for being accompanied by poets

when he proceeded to his provincial government,[279] and did not until

advanced in years undertake to study Greek.[280] C. Lucilius was by

birth of equestrian rank, the first Roman knight who was himself a

poet.[281] He was born at Suessa Aurunca, B. C. 148,[282] and lived to

the age of forty-six years.[283] At fourteen, he served under Scipio at

the siege of Numantia.[284] He was the maternal great-uncle of Pompey,

and numbered amongst his friends and patrons, Africanus and Lælius. His

Satires were comprised in thirty books, of which the first twenty and

the thirtieth were written in hexameters, the rest in iambics or

trochaics. Numerous fragments are still extant, some of considerable

length. The Satires were probably arranged according to their

subject-matter; for those in the first book are on topics connected with

religion, whilst those in the ninth treat of literary and grammatical

criticism. His versification is careless and unrefined; very inferior in

this respect to that of his predecessors. He sets at defiance the laws

of prosody, and almost returns to the usage of that period in which the

ear was the only judge.

The prejudices of Horace[285] against the ancient Roman literature

render him an unsafe guide in criticism. Even in his own time his

attacks were considered by some indefensible; but his strictures on the

style of Lucilius are not undeserved; it was unmusical, affected, and

incorrect. His sentences are frequently ill-arranged, and therefore

deficient in perspicuity. His mixture of Greek and Latin expressions,

without that skill and art with which Horace considered it allowable to

enrich the vernacular language, is itself offensive to good taste, and

is rendered still more disagreeable by unnecessary diminutives and

forced alliteration. On these grounds, and on these alone, he merits the

contemptuous criticism of Horace.

His real defect was want of facility; and it is not improbable that, if

prose had been considered a legitimate vehicle, he would have preferred

pouring forth in that unrestricted form his indignant eloquence, rather

than that, as Horace says, every verse should have cost him many

scratchings of the head, and biting his nails to the quick. Whilst the

criticism of Horace errs on the side of severity, that of Cicero[286] is

somewhat too partial: firstly, because he himself was deficient in

poetical facility; secondly, because in his time there were no models of

perfection wherewith to compare the works of Lucilius. The judgment of

Quintilian[287] is moderate; and although the taste for poetry was then

corrupted by a love of quietness and rhetorical affectation, the praise

is well merited which he bestows on the frank honesty and biting wit of

the Satires of Lucilius. As he took the writers of old Attic comedy for

his models, it cannot be a matter of surprise that he occasionally added

force to his attacks on vice by coarseness and personality. Like them,

if Lucilius found any one who deserved rebuke for his crimes, he did not

trouble himself to make general remarks, and to attack vice in the

abstract, but to illustrate his principles by living examples.

The education of Lucilius had probably been desultory, and his course of

study not sufficiently strict to give the rich young Roman knight the

accurate training, the critical knowledge, necessary to make him a poet

as well as a satirist. It had given him learning and erudition—it had

furnished him with the wealth of two languages, both of which he used

whenever he thought they supplied him with a two-edged weapon—but it had

not sufficiently cultivated his ear and refined his taste. On the other

hand, his Satires must have possessed nobler qualities than those of

style. He was evidently a man of high moral principle, though stern and

stoical, devotedly attached to the cause of virtue, a relentless enemy

of vice and profligacy, a gallant and fearless defender of truth and

honesty. He must have felt with Juvenal, “difficile est satiram non

scribere.” He was under an obligation which he could not avoid. What

cared he for correct tetrameters, or heroics, or senarii, so that he

could crush effeminacy, and gluttony, and self-indulgence, and restore

the standard of ancient morals, to which he looked back with admiration?

This chivalrous devotion inspired him with eloquence, and gave a dignity

to his rude verses, although it did not invest them with the graces and

charms of poetry. Nor is it only when he declares open war against

corruption that he must have made his adversaries tremble, or his

victims, conscience-stricken, writhe beneath his knife. His encomiums

upon virtue form as striking pictures; but in both it is the masterly

outline of the drawing which amazes and instructs, not the mere

accessory of the colouring. See, for example, the following noble

passage, with its unselfish conclusion, preserved by Lactantius:[288]—

Virtus, Albine, est pretium persolvere verum

Queis in versamur, queis vivimu’ rebu’ potesse.

Virtus est homini scire id quod quæque habeat res.

Virtus, scire homini rectum, utile, quid sit honestum,

Quæ bona, quæ mala item quid inutile turpe inhonestum.

Virtus, quærendæ finem rei scire modumque;

Virtus, divitiis pretium persolvere posse.

Virtus, id dare quod reipsa debetur honori,

Hostem esse atque inimicum hominum morumque malorum;

Contra, defensorem hominum morumque bonorum;

Magnificare hos, his bene velle, his vivere amicum;

Commoda præterea patriai prima putare,

Deinde parentum, tertia jam postremaque nostra.

Had they been extant, we should have found useful information and

instruction in his faithful pictures of Roman life and manners in their

state of moral transition—amusement in such pieces as his journal of a

progress from Rome to Capua, from which Horace borrowed the idea of his

journey to Brundisium, whilst in his love poems, addressed to his

mistress, Collyra, we should have traced the tender sympathies of human

nature, which the sternness of stoicism was unable to overcome.

Besides satire, Lucilius is said to have attempted lyric poetry: if this

be the case, it is by no means surprising that no specimens have stood

the test of time, for he possessed none of the qualifications of a lyric

poet.

After the death of Lucilius, satire languished. Varro Atacinus attempted

it and failed.[289] Half a century subsequently it assumed a new garb in

the descriptive scenes of Horace, and put forth its original vigour in

the burning thoughts of Persius and Juvenal.

LÆVIUS.

This literary period was entirely destitute of lyric poetry, unless

Niebuhr is correct in supposing that Lævius flourished contemporaneously

with Lucilius.[290] Nothing is known of his history; and such

uncertainty prevails respecting him that his name is constantly

confounded with those of Livius and Nævius. It is not improbable, that

some passages attributed to them, which appear to belong to a later

literary age, are, in reality, the work of Lævius—for example, the

hexameters which are found in the Latin Odyssey of Livius. He translated

the Cyprian poems, and wrote some fugitive amatory pieces entitled

Erotopægnia. They seem to have possessed neither the graceful simplicity

nor the tender warmth which are essential to lyric poetry, although they

perhaps attained as great elegance of expression as the state of the

language then admitted. Short fragments are preserved by Apuleius and in

the _Noctes Atticæ_ of A. Gellius.[291]

CHAPTER X.

PROSE LITERATURE—PROSE SUITABLE TO ROMAN GENIUS—HISTORY, JURISPRUDENCE,

AND ORATORY—PREVALENCE OF GREEK—Q. FABIUS PICTOR—L. CINCIUS ALIMENTUS—C.

ACILIUS GLABRIO—VALUE OF THE ANNALISTS—IMPORTANT LITERARY PERIOD, DURING

WHICH CATO CENSORIUS FLOURISHED—SKETCH OF HIS LIFE—HIS CHARACTER,

GENIUS, AND STYLE.

Prose was far more in accordance with the genius of the Romans than

poetry. As a nation they had little or no ideality or imaginative power,

no enthusiastic love of natural beauty, no acute perception of the

sympathy and relation existing between man and the external world. In

the Greek mind a love of country and a love of nature held a divided

empire—they were poets as well as patriots. Roman patriotism had indeed

its dark side—an unbounded lust of dominion, an unscrupulous ambition to

extend the power and glory of the republic; but, nevertheless, it

prompted a zealous devotion to whatever would promote national

independence and social advancement. Statesmanship, therefore, and the

subjects akin to it, constituted the favourite civil pursuit of an

enlightened Roman, who sought a distinguished career of public

usefulness; and, therefore, that literature which tended to advance the

science of social life had a charm for him which no other literature

possessed.

The branches of knowledge which would engage his attention were History,

Jurisprudence, and Oratory. They would be studied with a view to

utility, and in a practical spirit they would require a scientific and

not an artistic treatment; and, therefore, their natural language would

be prose and not poetry. As matter was more valued than manner by this

utilitarian people, it was long before it was thought necessary to

embellish prose literature with the graces of composition. The earliest

orators spoke with a rude and vigorous eloquence which is always

captivating: they wrote but little; their style was stiff and dry, and

very inferior to their speaking. Cato’s prose was less rugged than that

of his contemporaries or even his immediate successors. Sisenna was the

first historian to whom gracefulness and polish have been attributed;

and C. Gracchus is spoken of as a single exception to the orators of his

age, on account of the rhythmical modulation of his prose sentences—a

quality which he probably owed not more to a delicate ear than to the

softening influence of a mother’s education. Even the prose of that

celebrated model of refinement and good taste, C. Lælius, was harsh and

unmusical.[292]

Besides the influence which the practical character of the Roman mind

exercised upon prose writing, it must not be forgotten that Roman

literature was imitative: its end and object, therefore, were not

invention, but erudition; it depended for its existence on learning, and

was almost synonymous with it. This principle gave a decidedly

historical bias to the Roman intellect: an historical taste pervades a

great portion of the national literature. There is a manifest tendency

to study subjects in an historical point of view. It will be seen

hereafter that it is not like the Greek, original and inventive, but

erudite and eclectic. The historic principle is the great characteristic

feature of the Roman mind; consequently, in this branch of literature,

the Romans attained the highest reputation, and may fairly stand forth

as competitors with their Greek instructors. Not that they ever entirely

equalled them; for though they were practical, vigorous, and just

thinkers, they never attained that comprehensive and philosophical

spirit which distinguished the Greek historians.

The work of an historian was, in the earliest times, recognised as not

unworthy of a Roman. It was not like the other branches of literature,

in which the example was first set by slaves and freedmen. Those who

first devoted themselves to the pursuit were also eminent in the public

service of their country. Fabius Pictor was of an illustrious patrician

family. Cincius Alimentus, Fulvius Nobilior, and others, were of free

and honourable birth. Such were Roman historians until the time of

Sulla; for L. Otacilius Pilitus, who flourished at that period, was the

first freedman who began to write history.[293][294]

Again, the science of jurisprudence formed an indispensable part of

statesmanship. It was a study which recommended itself by its practical

nature: it could not be stigmatized even by the busiest as an idle and

frivolous pursuit, whilst the constitutional relation which subsisted

between patron and client, rendered the knowledge of its principles, to

a certain extent, absolutely necessary. Protection from wrong was the

greatest boon which the strong could confer upon the weak, the learned

on the unlearned. It was, therefore, the most efficacious method of

gaining grateful and attached friends; and by their support, the direct

path was opened to the highest political positions. It is not,

therefore, to be wondered at that, even when elegant literature was in

its infancy, so many names are found of men illustrious as jurists and

lawyers.

Practical statesmanship, in like manner, gave an early encouragement to

oratory. It is peculiarly the literature of active life. The possession

of eloquence rendered a man more efficient as a soldier and as a

citizen. Great as is the force of native, unadorned eloquence, vigorous

common sense, honest truthfulness, and indignant passion, nature would

give way to art as taste became more cultivated. Nor could the Romans

long have the finished models of Greek eloquence before their eyes,

without transferring to the forum or the senate-house somewhat of their

simple grandeur and majestic beauty.

The first efforts of the Roman historians were devoted to the transfer

of the records of poetry into prose, as their more appropriate and

popular vehicle. The national lays which tradition had handed down were

the storehouses which they ransacked to furnish a supply of materials.

As far as the records of authentic history are concerned, they performed

the functions of simple annalists: they related events almost in the

style of public monuments, without any attempt at ornament, without

picturesque detail or political reflection. When Cicero compares the

style of Fabius Pictor, Cato, and Piso, to that of the old Greek

logographers,[295] Pherecydes, Hellanicus, and Acusilaus, the points of

resemblance which he instances are, that both neglected ornament, were

careful only that their statements should be intelligible, and thought

the chief excellence of a writer was brevity. Probably the

subject-matter of the Roman annalists was the more valuable, whilst the

Greeks had the advantage in liveliness and skill. Some of the earliest

historians wrote in Greek instead of Latin. Even, in later times, such

men as Sulla and Lucullus, and also Cn. Aufidius, who flourished during

the boyhood of Cicero, wrote their memoirs in a foreign tongue. There

was some reason for this. The language in which the higher classes

received their education was Greek—the tutors, even the nurses, were

Greek, as well as the librarians, secretaries, and confidential servants

in most distinguished families. Such was the humanizing spirit of

literature that these distinguished foreigners found an asylum in the

households of noble Romans, notwithstanding the severity with which the

law treated prisoners of war. Fashionable conversation, moreover, was

interlarded with Greek phrases, and, in some houses, Greek was

habitually spoken. Even so late as the times of Cicero,[296] Greek

literature was read and studied in almost every part of the civilized

world, while the works of Latin writers were only known within the

circumscribed limits of Italy.

Q. FABIUS PICTOR.

The most ancient prose writer of Roman history was Q. Fabius Pictor, the

contemporary of Nævius. He belonged to that branch of the noble house of

the Fabii, which derived its distinguishing appellation from the

eminence of its founder as a painter. The temple of Salus, which he

painted, was dedicated B. C. 302, by the dictator, C. Junius Bubulcus;

and this oldest known specimen of Roman fine art remained until the

conflagration of the temple in the reign of Claudius. It must,

therefore, have been subjected to the criticisms of an age capable of

forming a correct judgment respecting its merits; and it appears from

the testimony of antiquity to have possessed the two essentials of

accurate drawing and truthful colouring, and to have been free from the

fault of conventional treatment.[297]

The Fabii were an intellectual family as well as a distinguished one:

perhaps the numerous records of their exploits which exist were, in some

degree, owing to their learning. The grandson of the eminent artist was

Fabius Pictor the historian. Livy[298] continually refers to him, and

throughout his narrative of the Hannibalian war, he professes implicit

confidence in him on the grounds of his being a contemporary

historian,[299] (_æqualem temporibus hujusce belli_;) he is likewise the

authority on whom the greatest reliance was placed by Dion Cassius and

Appian. Nor did the accurate and faithful Polybius consider him

otherwise than trustworthy upon the whole, although he accuses him of

partiality towards his countrymen.[300] Niebuhr[301] attributes to

Fabius Pictor the accurate knowledge of constitutional history displayed

by Dion Cassius, and acknowledges how deeply we are indebted to him for

the information which we possess concerning the changes which took place

in the Roman constitution. It is to his care that we owe the

faithfulness of Dion, whilst Dionysius and Livy too often lead us

astray. It constitutes some justification of his partiality as an

historian, that Philinus of Agrigentum had also written a history of the

first Punic war in a spirit hostile to Rome, and that this provoked

Pictor to a defence of his country’s honour. His work was written in

Greek, and its principal subject was a history of the first and second

Punic wars, especially that against Hannibal. It has been held by some,

on the authority of a passage in the “De Oratore” of Cicero,[302] that

he wrote in Latin as well as in Greek; but Niebuhr believes that Cicero

is in error, and has confused him with a Latin annalist, named F. Max.

Servilianus. The period to which his work extended is uncertain; but the

last event alluded to by Livy, on his authority, is the battle of

Trasymenus,[303] and the last occasion on which he mentions his name is

when he records his return from an embassy to Delphi in the following

year.[304] The earlier history of Rome was prefixed by way of

introduction; for his object was not merely to assist in constructing

the rising edifice of Roman literature, but to spread the glory of his

country throughout that other great nation of antiquity, which now, for

the first time, came in contact with a worthy rival. The pontifical

annals, the national ballads, the annals of his own house, so rich in

legendary tales of heroism, furnished him with ample materials; but he

is also said to have drawn largely on the stores of a Greek author,

named Diocles, a native of Peparethus, who had preceded him in the work

of research and accumulation.

L. CINCIUS ALIMENTUS.

Contemporary with Fabius was the other annalist of the second Punic war,

L. Cincius Alimentus. He was prætor in Sicily[305] in the ninth year of

the war, and took a prominent part in it.[306] The soldiers who fought

at Cannæ[307] were placed at his disposal, his period of command was

prolonged, and after his return home he was sent as _legatus_ to the

consul Crispinus, on the occasion of the melancholy death of his

colleague, Marcellus.[308] Some time after this, he was taken prisoner

by Hannibal.[309] Like Fabius, he wrote his work in Greek, and prefixed

to it a brief abstract of early Roman history.[310] Livy speaks of him

as a diligent antiquarian, and appeals to his authority to establish the

Etruscan origin of the custom of the dictator driving a nail into the

temple of Jupiter Optimus Maximus.[311] As his accurate investigation of

original monuments gives a credibility to his early history, so his

being personally engaged in the war in a high position, renders him

trustworthy in the later periods. It is also said that, when he was a

prisoner of war, Hannibal, who delighted in the society of literary men,

treated him with great kindness and consideration, and himself

communicated to him the details of his passage across the Alps into

Italy.

To him, therefore, and to the opportunities which he enjoyed of gaining

information, we owe the credibility of this portion of Livy’s

history[312] on a point on which authors were at variance, namely, the

number of Hannibal’s forces at this time. Livy appeals to the statement

of Cincius as settling the question, and says, Hannibal himself informed

Cincius how many troops he had lost between the passage of the Rhone and

his descent into Italy.

His accurate habit of mind must have made his annals a most valuable

work; and, therefore, it was most important that the variation of his

early chronology from that which is commonly received should be

explained and reconciled. This task Niebuhr has satisfactorily

accomplished. He supposes that Cincius took cyclical years of ten

months, which were used previous to the reign of Tarquinius Priscus, in

the place of common years of twelve months. The time which had elapsed

between the building of Rome and this epoch was, according to the

pontifical annals, 132 years. The error, therefore, due to this

miscalculation would be 132 - (132 + 10) / 12 = 22 years. If this be

added to the common date of the building of Rome, B. C. 753 = Ol. vii.

2, the result is the date given by Cincius, namely Ol. vii. 4.[313]

C. ACILIUS GLABRIO.

A few words may be devoted to C. Acilius Glabrio, the third

representative of the Græco-Roman historic literature. Very little is

known respecting him. He was quæstor A. U. C. 551, tribune A. U. C. 557,

and subsequently attained senatorial rank; for Gellius[314] relates

that, when the three Athenian philosophers visited Rome as ambassadors,

Acilius introduced them to the senate and acted as interpreter. His

story was considered worthy of translation by an author named Claudius,

and to this translation reference is twice made by Livy.[315]

Valuable though the works of these annalists must have been as

historical records, and as furnishing materials for more thoughtful and

philosophical minds, they are only such as could have existed in the

infancy of a national literature. They were a bare compilation of facts,

the mere scaffolding and framework of history; they were diversified by

no critical remarks or political reflections. The authors made no use of

their facts, either to deduce or to illustrate principles. With respect

to style, they were meager, insipid, and jejune.

M. PORCIUS CATO CENSORIUS.

The versatility and variety of talent displayed by Cato claim for him a

place amongst orators, jurists, economists, and historians. It is,

however, amongst the latter, as representatives of the highest branch of

prose literature, that we must speak of the author of the “Origines.”

His life extends over a wide and important period of literary history:

everything was in a state of change—morals, social habits, literary

taste. Not only the influence of Greek literature, but also that of the

moral and metaphysical creed of Greek philosophy, was beginning to be

felt when Cato’s manly and powerful intellect was flourishing. When he

filled the second public office to which the Roman citizen aspired,

Nævius was still living. He was censor when Plautus died; and, before

his own life ended, the comedies of Terence had been exhibited on the

Roman stage.

Three political events took place during his lifetime, which must have

exercised an important influence on the mental condition of the Roman

people. When Macedonia, at the defeat of Perseus,[316] was reduced to

the condition of a Roman province, nearly a thousand Achæans, amongst

whom was the historian Polybius, were sent to Rome, and detained in

Italy as hostages during nearly seventeen years. The thirteenth year

from that event witnessed the dawn of philosophy at Rome, for previously

to this epoch, the philosophical schools of Magna Græcia appear to have

been unnoticed and disregarded. But now[317] Carneades the academic,

Critolaus the peripatetic, and Diogenes the stoic,[318] came to Rome as

ambassadors from Athens, and delivered philosophical lectures, which

attracted the attention of the leading statesmen, whilst the doctrines

which they taught excited universal alarm. The following year Crates

arrived as ambassador from Attalus, king of Pergamus, and during his

stay delighted the literary society of the capital with commentaries on

the Greek poets.[319] It is not surprising that one who lived through a

period during which Greek literature had such favourable opportunities

of being propagated by some of its most distinguished professors,

sufficiently overcame his prejudices as to learn in his old age the

language of a people whom he both hated and despised.

M. Porcius Cato Censorius was born at Tusculum, B. C. 234.[320] His

family was of great antiquity, and numbered amongst its members many who

were distinguished for their courage in war and their integrity in

peace. His boyhood was passed in the healthy pursuits of rural life, at

a small Sabine farm belonging to his father; and his mind, invigorated

by stern and hardy training, was early directed to the study as well as

the practice of agriculture. To this rugged yet honest discipline may be

traced the features of his character as displayed in after life, his

prejudices as well as his virtues.

He became a soldier at a very early age, B. C. 217, served in the

Hannibalian war, was under the command of Fabius Maximus both in

Campania and Tarentum, and did good service at the decisive battle of

the Metaurus. Between his campaigns he did not seek to exhibit his

laurels in the society of the capital, but, like Curius Dentatus and

Quintius Cincinnatus, employed himself in the rural labours of his

Sabine retirement.

His shrewd remarks and easy conversation, as well as the skill with

which he pleaded the causes of his clients before the rural magistracy,

soon made his abilities known, and his reputation attracted the notice

of one of his country neighbours, L. Valerius Flaccus, who invited him

to his town-house at Rome. Owing to the patronage of his noble friend,

and his own merits, his rise to eminence as a pleader was rapid. He was

a quæstor in B. C. 206, ædile in B. C. 199, prætor the following year,

and in B. C. 195 he obtained the consulship, his patron Flaccus being

now his colleague. His province was Spain;[321] and, whilst stern and

pitiless towards his foes, he exhibited a noble example of self-denying

endurance in order to minister to the welfare of his army. At the

conclusion of his consulship, he served as legatus in Thrace and Greece;

and in B. C. 189 was sent on a civil mission to Fulvius Nobilior in

Ætolia.

After experiencing one failure, he was elected censor in B. C. 184; and

he had now an opportunity of making a return for the obligations which

his earliest patron had conferred upon him; for, by his influence,

Flaccus was appointed his colleague. This office was, above all others,

suited to his talents; and to his remarkable activity in the discharge

of his duties, he owes his fame and his surname.

He had now full scope for displaying his habits of business, his talents

for administration, his uncompromising resistance to all luxury and

extravagance, his fearlessness in the reformation of abuses: and though

he was severe, public opinion bore testimony to his integrity, for he

was rewarded with a statue and an inscription. He had now served his

country in every capacity, but still he gave himself no rest; advancing

age did not weaken his energies; he was always ready as the champion of

the oppressed, the advocate of virtue, the punisher of vice. He

prosecuted the extortionate governors of his old province, Spain.[322]

He pleaded before the senate the cause of the loyal Rhodians.

He caused the courteous dismissal of the three Greek philosophers,

because the arguments of Carneades made it difficult to discern what was

truth.[323] Although his prejudice against Greeks prevented him

sympathizing with the sorrows of the Achæan exiles, he supported the

vote for their restoration to their native land. Neither his enemies nor

his country would allow him rest. In his eighty-sixth year, he had to

defend himself against a capital charge. In his eighty-ninth, he was

sent to Africa as one of the arbitrators between the Carthaginians and

Massinissa,[324] and in his ninetieth, the year in which he died,[325]

his last public act was the prosecution of Galba for his perfidious

treatment of the conquered Lusitanians.[326]

Cato loved strife, and his long life was one continued combat. He never

found a task too difficult, because difficulty called forth all his

energies, and his strong will and invincible perseverance insured

success. His inherent love of truth made him hate anything conventional.

As a politician, he considered rank valueless, except it depended upon

personal merit; and therefore he was an unrelenting enemy of the

aristocracy. As a moralist, he indignantly rejected that false gloss of

modern fashion which was superseding the old plainness, and which was,

in his opinion, the foundation of his country’s glory. In literature, he

distrusted and condemned every thing Greek, because he confounded the

sentiments of its noblest periods as a nation with those of the

degenerate Greeks with whom he came in contact. But, at length, his

candid and truthful disposition discovered and confessed his error on

this point, and his prejudices gave way before conviction.

Cato, with all his virtues, was a hard-hearted man.[327] He had no

amiability, no love, no affection; he did not love right, for he loved

nothing; but he had a burning indignation against wrong. This was the

mainspring of his conduct. He did not feel for the oppressed, but he

declared war against the oppressor. He never could sympathize with

living men. In his youth, all his admiration was for the past

generation. In his old age, his feeling was that his life had been spent

with the past, and he had nothing in common with the present.

As is usually the case with those who live during a period of

transition, his feelings were so interested in that past by which his

character was formed, that he was incapable of discerning any good

whatever in change and progress. For this reason he dreaded the invasion

of refinement and civilization. Accustomed to connect virtue and purity

with the absence of temptations, he was prepared to take an exaggerated

view of the relation between polish and effeminacy, between a taste for

the beautiful and luxury.

He was a bitter hater of those who opposed his prejudices. His enmity to

Carthage sprung much more from his antagonism to Scipio, as the leader

of the Greek or movement party, than from fears for the safety of Rome.

Scipio said, Let Carthage be; therefore Cato’s will was, let Carthage be

destroyed. When his hatred of injustice was aroused, as, for example, by

the perfidy of S. Sulpicius Galba towards the Lusitanians, he could

support the cause of foreigners against a fellow-countryman. His

character is full of apparent inconsistencies. Although he hated

oppression, he was cruel to his slaves; tyrannical and implacable,

simply because he would not brook opposition to his will. His integrity

was incorruptible, and yet he was a grinding usurer; frugal in his

habits, and notwithstanding his few wants, grasping and avaricious; but

it was his love of business that he was gratifying, rather than a love

of money. Trade was with him a combat in which he would not allow an

advantage to be gained by his adversary. Virtue did not present itself

to Cato in an amiable form. He had but one idea of it—austerity; and, as

his hatred of wrong was not counterbalanced by a love of right, the

intensity of his hatred was only kept in check by the practical good

sense and utilitarian views which occupy so prominent a place in the

Roman character. Being himself reserved and undemonstrative, he expected

others to be so likewise, and thought it unbecoming the dignity of a

Roman to exhibit tenderness of feeling. On one occasion we are told that

he degraded a Roman knight for embracing his wife in the presence of his

daughter. His personal appearance was not more prepossessing than his

manners, as we learn from the following severe epigram:—[328]

Πυῤῥὸν, πανδακέτην, γλαυκόμματον, οὐδὲ θανόντα

Πόρκιον εἰς ἀΐδην Περσεφόνη δέχεται.

With his red hair, constant snarl, and gray eyes, Proserpine would not

receive Porcius, even after death, into Hades.

As, notwithstanding his defects, Cato was morally the greatest man ever

Rome produced, so he was one of the greatest intellectually. His genius

was perfectly original; his character was not moulded by other men; he

had no education except self-education. He had immense power of

acquiring learning, and he ransacked every source to increase his

stores; but he was indebted to no man for his opinions—they were

self-formed, except those which he inherited, and in which his own

independent convictions led him to acquiesce. He had the ability and the

determination to excel in everything which he undertook, politics, war,

rural economy, oratory, history. His style is rude, unpolished,

ungraceful, because to him wit was artifice, and polish superficial, and

therefore unreal. For this reason he did not profit by the inconceivably

rapid change which was then taking place in the Latin language, and

which is evident from the comparison of the fragments of Cato’s works

with the polished comedies of Terence.

His statements, however, were clear and transparent; his illustrations,

though quaint, were striking; the words with which he enriched his

native tongue were full of meaning; his wit was keen and lively,

although he never would permit it to offend against gravity, or partake

of irreverence.[329] His arguments went straight to the intellect, and

carried conviction with them.

The character of Cato forms one of the most beautiful passages in the

works of Livy:[330] “In hoc viro tanta vis animi ingeniique fuit, ut,

quocunque loco natus esset, fortunam sibi ipse facturus fuisse

videretur. Nulla ars, neque privatæ, neque publicæ rei gerendæ, ei

defuit. Urbanas rusticasque res pariter callebat. Ad summos honores

alios scientia juris, alios eloquentia, alios gloria militaris provexit.

Huic versatile ingenium sic pariter ad omnia fuit, ut natum ad id unum

diceres, quodcunque ageret. In bello manu fortissimus, multisque

insignibus clarus pugnis; idem, postquam ad magnos honores pervenit,

summus imperator: idem in pace, si jus consuleres, peritissimus; si

causa oranda esset, eloquentissimus. Nec is tantum, cujus lingua vivo eo

viguerit, monumentum eloquentiæ nullum exstet: vivit immo vigetque

eloquentia ejus, sacrata scriptis omnis generis. Orationes et pro se

multæ, et pro aliis et in alios; nam non solum accusando, sed etiam

causam dicendo, fatigavit inimicos. Simultates nimio plures et

exercuerunt eum, et ipse exercuit eas; nec facile dixeris, utrum magis

presserit eum nobilitas, an ille agitaverit nobilitatem. Asperi

proculdubio animi, et linguæ acerbæ, et immodice liberæ fuit; sed

invicti a cupiditatibus animi, et rigidæ innocentiæ; contemptor gratiæ

divitiarum. In parsimonia, in patientia laboris, periculi, ferrei prope

corporis animique; quam neque senectus quidem, quæ solvit omnia,

fregerit. Qui sextum et octogesimum annum agens causam dixerit, ipse pro

se oraverit, scripseritque; nonagesimo anno Ser. Galbam ad populi

adduxerit judicium.”

CHAPTER XI.

THE ORIGINES OF CATO—PASSAGE QUOTED BY GELLIUS—TREATISE DE RE

RUSTICA—ORATIONS—L. CASSIUS HEMINA—HISTORIANS IN THE DAYS OF THE

GRACCHI—TRADITIONAL ANECDOTE OF ROMULUS—AUTOBIOGRAPHERS—FRAGMENT OF

QUADRIGARIUS—FALSEHOODS OF ANTIAS—SISENNA—TUBERO.

Cato’s great historical and antiquarian work, “The Origines,” was

written in his old age.[331] Its title would seem to imply that it was

merely an inquiry into the ancient history of his country; but in

reality it comprehended far more than this—it was a history of Italy and

Rome from the earliest times to the latest events which occurred in his

own lifetime. The contents of the work are thus described by Cornelius

Nepos.[332] It is divided into seven books. The first treats of the

history of the kings; the second and third of the rise and progress of

the Italian states; the fourth contains the first Punic war; the fifth

the war with Hannibal; the remaining two the history of the subsequent

wars down to the prætorship of Servius Galba.

It was a work of great research and originality. For his archæological

information, he had consulted the records and documents, not only of

Rome, but of the principal Italian towns. It is probable that their

constitutional history was introduced incidentally to the main

narrative; and that the rise and progress of the Roman constitution was

illustrated by the political principles of the Italian nations. The

“Origines” also contained valuable notices respecting the history and

constitution of Carthage,[333] his embassy having furnished him with

full opportunity for collecting materials. It was, in fact, a unique

work: no other Roman historian wrote in the same spirit, or was equally

laborious in the work of original investigation.

The truthfulness and honesty of Cato must have rendered the contemporary

part of the history equally valuable with the antiquarian portion. He

could not have been guilty of flattery, he had no regard for the

feelings of individuals. Not only he never mentions himself, but, except

in times long gone by, he never names any one.[334] The glory of a

victory, or of a gallant exploit, belongs to the general, or consul, or

tribune, as the representative of the republic. He does not allow either

individual or family to participate in that which he considered the

exclusive property of his country.

Sufficient fragments of the “Origines” remain to make us regret that

more have not been preserved; but though very numerous, they are, with

the exception of two, excessively brief. One of these is a portion of

his own speech in favour of the Rhodians;[335] the other a simple and

affecting narrative of an act of self-devoted heroism. A consular army

was surprised and surrounded by the Carthaginians in a defile, from

which there was no escape. The tribune, whom Cato does not name, but

who, as A. Gellius informs us, was Cædicius, went to the consul and

recommended him to send four hundred men to occupy a neighbouring

height. The enemy, he added, will attack them, and without doubt they

will be slain to a man. Nevertheless, whilst the enemy is thus occupied,

the army will escape. But, replied the consul, who will be the leader of

this band? I will, said the tribune; I devote my life to you, and to my

country. The tribune and four hundred men set forth to die. They sold

their lives dearly, but all fell. “The immortal gods,” adds Cato, for

Gellius is here quoting his very words, “granted the tribune a lot

according to his valour. For thus it came to pass. Though he had

received many wounds, none proved mortal; and when his comrades

recognised him amongst the dead, faint from loss of blood, they took him

up, and he recovered. But it makes a vast difference in what country a

generous action is performed. Leonidas, of Lacedæmon, is praised, who

performed a similar exploit at Thermopylæ. On account of his valour

united Greece testified her gratitude in every possible way, and adorned

his exploit with monumental records, pictures, statues, eulogies,

histories. The Roman tribune gained but faint praise, and yet he had

done the same, and saved the republic.” The most pathetic writer could

not have told the tale more effectively than the stern Cato.

Circumstances invest his treatise “De Re Rustica” with great interest.

The population of Rome, both patrician and plebeian, was necessarily

agricultural. For centuries they had little commerce: their wealth

consisted in flocks and herds, and in the conquered territories of

nations as poor as themselves. The _ager Romanus_, and subsequently as

they gained fresh acquisitions, the fertile plains, and valleys, and

mountain sides of Italy, supplied them with maintenance. The statesman

and the general, in the intervals of civil war or military service,

returned, like Cincinnatus and Cato, to the cultivation of their fields

and gardens. The Roman armies were recruited from the peasantry; and

when the war was over, the soldier returned to his daily labour; and, in

later times, the veteran, when his period of service was completed,

became a small farmer in a military colony. To a restless nation, who

could not exist in a state of inactivity, a change of labour was

relaxation; and the pleasures of rural life, which were so often sung by

the Augustan poets, were heartily enjoyed by the same man whose natural

atmosphere seemed to be either politics or war.

Besides the possession of these rural tastes the Romans were essentially

a domestic people. The Greeks were social; they lived in public; they

had no idea of home. Woman did not with them occupy a position

favourable to the existence of home-feeling. The Roman matron was the

centre of the domestic circle; she was her husband’s equal, sometimes

his counsellor, and generally the educator of his children in their

early years. Hundreds of sepulchral inscriptions bear testimony to the

sweet charities of home-life, to the dutiful obedience of children, the

devoted affection of parents, the fidelity of wives, the attachments of

husbands. Hence, home and all its pursuits and occupations had an

interest in the eyes of a Roman. For this reason there were so many

writers on rural and domestic economy. From Cato to Columella we have a

list of authors whose object was instruction in the various branches of

the subject. They were thus enumerated by Columella himself:[336] “Cato

was the first who taught the art of agriculture to speak in Latin; after

him it was improved by the diligence of the two Sasernæ, father and son;

next it acquired eloquence from Scrofa Tremellius; polish from M.

Terentius, (Varro;) poetic power from Virgil.” To their illustrious

names he adds those of J. Hyginus, the Carthaginian Mago, Corn. Celsus,

J. Atticus, and his disciple J. Græcinus.

The work of Cato, “De Re Rustica,” has come down to us almost in form

and substance as it was written. It has not the method of a regular

treatise. It is a commonplace-book of agriculture and domestic economy

under one hundred and sixty-three heads. The subjects are connected, but

not regularly arranged; they form a collection of useful instructions,

hints, and receipts. Its object is utility, not science. It serves the

purposes of a farmers’ and gardeners’ manual; a domestic medicine, an

herbal, and cookery-book; prudential maxims are interspersed, and some

favourite charms for the cure of diseases in man and beast. Cato teaches

his readers, for example, how to plant ozier-beds, to cultivate

vegetables, to preserve the health of cattle, to pickle pork, and to

make savoury dishes. He is shrewd and economical, but he never allows

humanity to interfere with profits; for he recommends his readers to

sell every thing which they do not want, even old horses and old slaves.

He is a great conjurer, for he informs us that the most potent cure for

a sprain is the repetition of the following hocus-pocus:[337] “Daries

dardaries, astataries dissunapitea;” or, “Huat hanat, huat hista, pista

sista, domiabo damnaustra;” or, “Huat huat, huat, ista sis tar sis,

ordannabon damnaustra.” This miscellaneous collection is preceded by an

introduction, in which is maintained the superiority of agriculture over

other modes of gaining a livelihood, especially over that of trade and

money-lending.

Cato was a conscientious father. He could not trust Greeks, but

undertook the education of his son himself. As a part of his system, he

addressed to him, in the form of letters, instruction on various

topics—historical, philosophical, and moral. A very few fragments of

this work, unfortunately, remain. In one of them he recommends a cursory

view of Greek literature, but not a profound study of it. He evidently

considered Greek writings morally dangerous; but he entertained a still

greater horror of their medicine. He had confidence in his own

old-fashioned charms and rural pharmacopeia; but he firmly believed, as

he would the voice of an oracle, that all the Greek physicians were

banded together to destroy the Romans as barbarians.

Of the orations of Cato, ninety titles are extant, together with

numerous fragments.[338] Some of these were evidently judicial, but the

majority deliberative. After what has been said of his works it is

scarcely necessary to describe the style of his eloquence. Unless a man

is a mere actor, his character is generally exemplified in his speaking.

This is especially true of Cato. He despised art. He was too fearless

and upright, too confident in the justice of his cause, to be a

rhetorician; too much wrapt up in his subject to be careful of the

language in which he conveyed his thoughts. He imitated no one, and no

one was ever able to imitate him. His style was abrupt, concise, witty,

full of contrast; its beauty that of nature, namely, the rapid

alternations of light and shade. Now it was rude and harsh, now pathetic

and affecting. It was the language of debate—antagonistic, gladiatorial,

elenchtic.

Plutarch compares him to Socrates; but he omits the principal point of

resemblance, namely, that he always speaks as if he was hand to hand

with an adversary. Even amidst the glitter and polish of the Augustan

age, old Cato had some admirers.[339] But this was not the general

feeling. The intrinsic value of the rough gem was not appreciated.

Cicero[340] tells us that, to his astonishment, Cato was almost entirely

unknown. The time afterwards arrived when criticism became a science,

and he was estimated as he deserved to be; but this admiration for the

antique form was not a revival of the antique spirit; it was only an

attempt to compensate for its loss; it was an imitation, not a reality.

Such was the literary position occupied by him whom Niebuhr pronounces

to be the only great man in his generation, and one of the greatest and

most honourable characters in Roman history.[341]

L. CASSIUS HEMINA.

There was no one worthy to follow Cato as an historian but L. Cassius

Hemina. A. Postumius Albinus, consul B. C. 151, was, according to

Cicero,[342] a learned and eloquent man, and wrote a history of Rome in

Greek;[343] but it was so inelegant that he apologized on the ground

that he was a Roman writing in a foreign language.[344] It is probable,

also, that he was inaccurate and puerile. He tells us, for example, that

Baiæ was so named after Boia, the nurse of one of Æneas’ friends, and

that Brutus used to eat green figs and honey.[345]

Hemina wrote Roman annals in five or six books, and published them about

the time of the fall of Carthage:[346] a considerable number of

fragments are extant. He was the last writer of this period who

investigated the original sources of history. His researches went back

to very early times; and he appears to have attempted, at least, a

comparison of Greek and Italian chronology, for he fixes the age of

Homer and Hesiod in the dynasty of the Silvii, more than 160 years after

the siege of Troy. He relates the original legend of Cacus and the oxen

of Hercules, the finding of Numa’s coffin, and the celebration of the

fourth sæcular games in the consulship of Lentulus and Mummius.[347]

This was probably the last event of importance previous to the

publication of his work. Only two fragments are of sufficient length to

enable us to form any judgment respecting his style. Many of his

expressions are very archaic, but the story of Cacus is told in a simple

and pleasing manner.

After Hemina, Roman history was, for some years, nothing more than a

compilation from the old chronicles, and from the labours and

investigations of previous authors. Q. Fabius Maximus Servilianus was

consul A. U. C. 612. His Latin style must have been very deficient in

euphony, if he frequently indulged in such words as _litterosissimum_,

which occurs in one of the fragments extant. C. Fannius, prætor A. U. C.

617, wrote a meager history[348] in not inelegant Latin. Vennonius, his

contemporary, was the author of annals which are referred to by

Dionysius. To this list of historians may be added C. Sempronius

Tuditanus, a polished gentleman as well as an elegant writer.[349]

The days of the Gracchi were very fruitful in historians and

autobiographers. At the head of them stands L. Cælius Antipater,[350] a

Roman freedman, an eloquent orator, and skilful jurist. His work

consisted of seven books, and many fragments are preserved by the

grammarians. He seems to have delighted in the marvellous; for Cicero

quotes from two remarkable dreams in his treatise on divination. He is

also frequently referred to by Livy in his history of the Punic wars.

Contemporaneously with Cælius lived Cn. Gellius, whose voluminous

history extended to the length of ninety-seven books at least. Livy

seldom refers to him. Probably, in this instance, he acted wisely; for

he seems to have been an historian of little or no authority. Two other

Gellii, Sextus and Aulus, flourished at the same time.

Publius Sempronius Asellio wrote, about the middle of the seventh

century of Rome, a memoir of the Numantian war. He was an eye-witness of

the scenes which he describes, for he was tribune at Numantia under

Scipio Africanus.[351]

The only constitutional history of Rome was the work of C. Junius, who

was surnamed Gracchanus, in consequence of his intimacy with C.

Gracchus. It is certain that this work must have been the result of

original research, as there are no remains extant of any history which

could have furnished the materials. The legal and political knowledge

which it contained was evidently considerable, for it is quoted by the

jurists as a trustworthy authority.[352]

Servius Fabius Pictor[353] wrote annals; but his principal work was a

treatise on the pontifical law, an antiquarian record of rites and

ceremonies. L. Calpurnius Piso Frugi Censorius was consul in the year in

which Ti. Sempronius Gracchus was killed, and censor the year after the

murder of C. Gracchus:[354] he is occasionally quoted by Dionysius, and

twice by Livy, who, on the points in question, consider his authority

less trustworthy than that of Fabius Pictor.[355] Gellius[356] quotes

from him the following traditional anecdote of Romulus. Once upon a time

the king was invited out to supper. He drank very little, because he had

business to transact on the following day. Some one at table remarked,

if every body did so, wine would be cheaper. “Nay,” replied Romulus, “I

have drank as much as I wished; if every body did so, it would be dear.”

Piso was an honest man, but not an honest historian. He acquired the

surname Frugi by his strict integrity and simple habits; but his

ingenuity tempted him to disregard historical truth. Niebuhr considers

him the first who introduced systematic forgeries into Roman history.

Seeing the discrepancies and consistencies between the accounts given by

previous annalists, instead of weighing them together, and adopting

those which were best supported by the testimony of antiquity, he either

invented theories, in order to reconcile conflicting statements, or

substituted some narrative which he thought might have been the

groundwork of the marvellous legend. Niebuhr observes, that he treated

history precisely in the same way in which the rationalists endeavoured

to divest the scripture of its miraculous character.

M. Æmilius Scaurus, P. Rutilius Rufus, and Q. Lutatius Catulus, were the

first Roman autobiographers; and their example was afterwards followed

by Sulla, who employed his retirement in writing his own memoir in

twenty-two books. Scaurus was the son of a charcoal-dealer, who, by his

military talents, twice raised himself to the consulship, and once

enjoyed the honour of a triumph. A few unimportant fragments of his

personal memoirs are preserved by the grammarians. Rutilius was consul

A. U. C. 649: he wrote his own life in Latin, and a history of Rome in

Greek.[357] Catulus is praised by Cicero for his Latinity, who compares

his style to that of Xenophon.[358]

The other historians, who flourished immediately before the literary

period of Cicero, were C. Licinius Macer, Q. Claudius Quadrigarius, and

Q. Valerius Antias.

Macer[359] was a prolix and gossiping writer: he was not deficient in

industry; he spared no pains in collecting traditions; but he had no

judgment in selection, and accepted all the Greek fables respecting

Italy without discrimination. Hence he makes some statements which were

rejected by annalists of greater authority. Niebuhr[360] defends him,

and regrets deeply the loss of his annals. He thinks it not improbable

that Cicero’s unfavourable criticism may have been owing to political

prejudice. His work was voluminous, and probably traced the Roman

history from the commencement to his own times.

Quadrigarius is much quoted both by Livy and the grammarians. From the

fragments extant it is clear that his history commenced with the Gallic

wars; and from a passage in Plutarch’s Life of Numa,[361] he appears to

have been actuated by a motive indicative of his truthfulness as an

historian. He was not content with fabulous legends; and there were no

documents in existence anterior to the capture of Rome by the Gauls. His

work consisted of twenty-three books: it carried the history, as is

generally supposed, as far as the death of Sulla,[362] or, as Niebuhr

believed, down to the consulship of Cicero.[363] The longest fragment

extant has been preserved by Gellius, and relates the combat of Manlius

Torquatus with the gigantic Gaul.

The style is abrupt and sententious, and the structure of the sentences

loose; but the story is told in a naïve and spirited manner. One can

realize the scene as the historian describes it—the awe of the Roman

host at the unwonted sight—the gigantic stature, the truculent

countenance of the Goliath-like youth—the unbroken silence, in the midst

of which his voice of thunder uttered his defiance—the scorn with which

he sneered and put out his tongue when no one accepted his challenge—the

shame and grief of the noble Manlius—the struggle—the cutting off the

monster’s head, and the wreathing his own neck with the collar still

reeking with blood.

It has been suggested that this historian received the surname

Quadrigarius because, in the games of the circus, celebrated after the

victory of Sulla, he won the prize in the chariot-race.

No Roman historian ever made greater pretensions to accuracy than

Valerius Antias, and no one was less trustworthy. Livy, on one

occasion,[364] accuses him of either negligence or impudent

exaggeration; but there is no doubt that he was guilty of the latter

fault. Almost all the places in which he is quoted by Livy have

reference to numbers, and in all he not only goes far beyond all other

historians,[365] but even transgresses the bounds of possibility. Livy

never hesitates to call him a liar. In all cases he is guilty of

falsehood; the only question is whether his falsehood is more or less

moderate. The following examples are sufficient to convict him. He

undertakes to assert that the exact number of the Sabine virgins was

527.[366] If one historian states that 60 engines of war were taken, he

makes the number 6,000;[367] when all authors, Greek and Latin, unite in

asserting that in A. U. C. 553, there was no memorable campaign, he says

a battle was fought in which 12,000 of the enemy were slain and 1,200

taken prisoners.[368] In another place 10,000 slain become 40,000;[369]

and a fine which Quadrigarius states was to be paid by instalments in

thirty years, he distributes only over the space of ten.[370] With

matter of this unauthentic kind, he filled no less than seventy-five

books, of which a large portion of passages have been preserved,

especially by Livy.

Hitherto, with one doubtful exception, Latin historical composition was

in the hands of the great and noble; the first historian belonging to

the order of the libertinei was L. Otacilius Pilitus. Suetonius[371]

says, that he was not only originally a slave, but that he acted as

porter, and, as was the custom, was chained to his master’s door.

Nothing is known of his works; it is probable, therefore, that they were

of no merit.

Two more important names remain to be mentioned amongst the annalists of

this period—L. Cornelius Sisenna and Q. Ælius Tubero. Sisenna, according

to the testimony of Cicero,[372] was born between B. C. 640 and B. C.

680, and filled the office of quæstor B. C. 676. He was, according to

the same authority, a man of learning and taste, wrote pure Latin, was

well acquainted with public business, and, although deficient in

industry, surpassed all his predecessors and contemporaries in his

talents as an historian. Probably his style of writing approached more

nearly to that of the new school, although still below the Ciceronian

standard. The testimony of Sallust is not so favourable, as he considers

him not sufficiently impartial to fulfil adequately the duties of a

contemporary historian.[373]

No fragments are extant of sufficient length to enable us to form any

estimate of his merits, although, on account of the numerous unusual

words which occur in his writings, no historian of this period has been

more frequently quoted by the grammarians. The probability is that his

twenty-three books are of little or no value, as they are never referred

to in order to illustrate matters of historical or antiquarian interest.

Tubero was the contemporary of Cicero, and did not write his annals

until after Cicero’s consulship. Nevertheless he must be considered as

belonging to the old school, and its last as well as one of its most

worthy representatives. He was the father of L. Tubero, the legate of Q.

Cicero, in Asia. Like Piso, he was a stout opponent of the Gracchic

policy, and a firm supporter of the aristocracy. A stoic in philosophy,

his life was in strict accordance with his creed, and his style of

writing is said to have been marked with Catonian rudeness. He

describes, in his history, the cruel tortures of Regulus by the

Carthaginians, and relates the story of the wonderful serpent at

Bagrada.[374] He is once quoted by Dionysius and twice by Livy.

CHAPTER XII.

EARLY ROMAN ORATORY—ELOQUENCE OF APPIUS CLAUDIUS CÆCUS—FUNERAL

ORATIONS—DEFENCE OF SCIPIO AFRICANUS MAJOR—SCIPIO AFRICANUS MINOR

ÆMILIANUS—ERA OF THE GRACCHI—THEIR CHARACTERS—INTERVAL BETWEEN THE

GRACCHI AND CICERO—M. ANTONIUS—L. LICINIUS CRASSUS—Q. HORTENSIUS—CAUSES

OF HIS EARLY POPULARITY AND SUBSEQUENT FAILURE.

Eloquence, though of a rude, unpolished kind, must have been in the very

earliest times a characteristic of the Roman people. It is a plant

indigenous to a free soil. Its infancy was nurtured in the schools of

Tisias and Corax, when, on the dethronement of the tyrants, the dawn of

freedom brightened upon Sicily; and, just as in modern times it has

flourished, especially in England and America, fostered by the

unfettered freedom of debate, so it found a congenial home in free

Greece and republican Rome. He who could contrast in the most glowing

colours the cruelty of the pitiless creditor, with the sufferings of the

ruined debtor—who could ingeniously connect those patent evils with some

defects in the constitution, some inequalities in political rights

hitherto hidden and unobserved—would wield at will the affections of the

people, and become the master-spirit amongst his fellow-citizens.

Occasions would not be wanting in a state where, from the earliest

times, a struggle was continually maintained between a dominant and a

subject race, for the use of those arts of eloquence which nature, the

mistress of all art, suggests. The plebeians, in their conflicts with

the patricians, must have had some leader, and eloquence, probably to a

great extent, directed the selection, even though there was, in reality,

no Menenius Agrippa to lead them back from the sacred mountain with his

homely wisdom. Cases of oppression, doubtless, inspired some Icilius or

Virginius with words of burning indignation, and many a Siccius

Dentatus, though he had never learnt technical rhetoric, used the

rhetorical artifice of appealing to his honourable wounds and scars in

front, which he had received in the service of his country, and to

disgraceful weals with which his back was lacerated by the lash of the

torturer. In an army where the personal influence of the general was

more productive of heroism than the rules of a long-established

discipline, a short harangue often led the soldiers to victory. And,

lastly, the relation subsisting between the two orders of patron and

client taught a milder and more business-like eloquence—that of

explaining with facility common civil rights, and unravelling the knotty

points of the constitutional law. Oratory, in fact, was the unwritten

literature of active life, and recommended itself by its antagonistic

spirit and its utility to a warlike and utilitarian people. Long,

therefore, before the art of the historian was sufficiently advanced to

record a speech, or to insert a fictitious one, as an embellishment or

illustration of its pages, the forum, senate, the battle-field, the

threshold of the jurisconsult, had been nurseries of Roman eloquence, or

schools in which oratory attained a vigorous youth, and prepared for its

subsequent maturity.

Tradition speaks of a speech recorded even before the poetry of Nævius

was written, and this speech was known to Cicero. It was delivered

against Pyrrhus by Appius Claudius the blind.[375] He belonged to a

house, every member of which, from the decemvir to the emperor, was born

to bow down their fellow-men beneath their strong wills. Such a

character, united with a poetical genius, implies the very elements of

that oratory which would curb a nation accustomed to be restrained by

force as much as by reason. On this celebrated occasion,[376] the blind

old man caused himself to be borne into the senate-house on a litter,

that he might confront the wily Cineas whom Pyrrhus had sent to

negotiate peace. The Macedonian minister was an accomplished speaker,

and his memory, that important auxiliary to eloquence, was so powerful,

that in one day he learnt to address all the senators and knights by

name, yet it is said that he was no match for the energy of Appius, and

was obliged to quit Rome.

Whilst the legal and political constitution of the Roman people gave

direct encouragement to deliberative and judicial oratory, respect to

the illustrious dead furnished opportunities for panegyric. The song of

the bard in honour of the departed warrior gave place to the funeral

oration, (_laudatio_.)

Before the commencement of the second Punic war,[377] Q. Metellus

pronounced the funeral harangue over his father, the conqueror of

Hasdrubal; history also speaks of him as a debator in the senate, and

his address to the censors is found in the fourth decade of Livy.[378]

This funeral oration was admired even in the time of J. Cæsar, and

Pliny[379] has recorded the substance of one remarkable passage which it

contained. The period of the second Punic war produced Corn. Cethegus.

Cicero mentions him in his list of Roman orators;[380] and although he

had never seen a specimen of his style, he states that he retained his

force and vigour even in his old age. Ennius also bears testimony to his

eloquence in the following line:—

Flos delibatus populi, suaviloquenti ore.

At the conclusion of the second war, Fabius Cunctator pronounced the

eulogium[381] of his elder son; and Cicero, although he denies him the

praise of eloquence, states that he was a fluent and correct speaker.

Scipio Africanus Major, on that memorable day when his enemies called

upon him to render an account of the moneys received from Antiochus,

proved himself a consummate orator: he disdained to refute the malignant

charges of his opponents, but spoke till dusk of the benefits which he

had conferred upon his country. Thus it came to pass that the adjourned

meeting was held on the anniversary of Zama. Livy has adorned the simple

words of the great soldier with his graceful language, but A.

Gellius[382] has preserved the peroration almost in his own words. “I

call to remembrance, Romans,” said he, “that this is the very day on

which I vanquished in a bloody battle on the plains of Africa the

Carthaginian Hannibal, the most formidable enemy Rome ever encountered.

I obtained for you a peace and an unlooked-for victory. Let us then not

be ungrateful to heaven, but let us leave this knave, and at once offer

our grateful thanksgivings to Jove, supremely good and great.”

The people obeyed his summons—the forum was deserted, and crowds

followed him with acclamations to the Capitol.

Mention has already been made of the stern eloquence of his adversary

Cato. He was equally laborious as a speaker and a writer. No fewer than

one hundred and fifty of his orations were extant in Cicero’s time, most

of which were on subjects of public and political interest.

The father of the Gracchi was distinguished amongst his contemporaries

for a plain and nervous eloquence, but no specimens of his oratory have

survived.

Scipio Africanus Minor (Æmilianus) was precisely qualified to be the

link between the new and the old school of oratory. His soldier-like

character displayed all the vigour and somewhat of the sternness of the

old Roman, but the harder outlines were modified by an ardent love of

learning. His first campaign was in Greece, under his father Æmilius

Paulus. His first literary friendship was formed there with the

historian Polybius, which ripened into the closest intimacy when

Polybius came as a hostage to Rome. Subsequently he became acquainted

with Panætius, who was his instructor in the principles of philosophy.

His taste was gratified with Greek refinement, although he abhorred the

effeminacy and profligacy of the Greeks themselves. In the spirit of

Cato, for whom he entertained the warmest admiration, he indignantly

remonstrated against the inroad of Greek manners. In his speech in

opposition to the law of C. Gracchus, he warned his hearers of the

corruptions which were already insinuating themselves amongst the Roman

youth. “I did not believe what I heard,” he says, “until I witnessed it

with my own eyes: at the dancing-school I saw more than five hundred of

the youth of both sexes. I saw a boy, of at least twelve years old,

wearing the badge of noble birth, who performed a castanet dance, which

an immodest slave could not have danced without disgrace.”

The degeneracy of Greek manners had not corrupted his moral nature, or

rendered him averse to the active duties of a citizen; it had not

destroyed the frankness, whilst it had humanized the rough honesty, of

the Roman, and taught him to love the beautiful as well as the good, and

to believe that the former was the proper external development of the

latter.

One friend, whose influence contributed to form the mind of Scipio, was

the wise and gentle Lælius. In other places, as well as in the “_de

Amicitia_,” Cicero associates their names together. These distinguished

friends were well suited to each other. The sentiments of both were

noble and elevated. “Both,” as Cicero[383] says, “were ‘_imprimis

eloquentes_.’” Their discrepancies were such as draw men of similar

tastes more closely together, in those hours which they can devote to

their favourite pursuits. Scipio was an active man of business—Lælius, a

contemplative philosopher: Scipio, a Roman in heart and soul—Lælius, a

citizen of the world: Scipio was rather inclined to ostentatious

display—Lælius was retiring. The former had a correct taste, spoke Latin

with great purity, and had an extensive acquaintance with the literature

both of Greece and his own country. The attainments of the latter were

more solid, and his acquaintance with the mind of Greece more profound.

But Lælius was not equally calculated to occupy a place in history; and

hence, perhaps, although a few fragments of the eloquence of Scipio are

extant,[384] the remains of that of Lælius extend only to as many lines.

Cheerfulness, (hilaritas,) smoothness, (lenitas,) and learning

distinguished the speeches of Lælius, whilst spirit, genius, and natural

power marked those of Scipio.

Servius Sulpicius Galba, whom Cato[385] prosecuted for his treachery to

the Lusitanians, obtained from Cicero the praise of having been the

first Roman who really understood how to apply the theoretical

principles of Greek rhetoric. He is said likewise to have carried away

with him the feelings of his auditors by his animated and vehement

delivery. How skilful he was in the use of rhetorical artifice is shown

by his parading before the assembly of the people, when brought to

trial, his two infant sons, and the orphan of his friend Sulpicius

Gallus. His tears and embraces touched the hearts of his judges, and the

cold-blooded perjurer was acquitted. External artifice, however,

probably constituted his whole merit. He had the tact thus to cover a

dry and antique style, destitute of nerve and muscle, of which no

specimen except only a few words remain.

All periods of political disquiet are necessarily favourable to

eloquence, and the era of the Gracchi was especially so. Extensive

political changes were now established. They had been of slow and

gradual growth, and were the natural development of the Roman system;

but they were changes which could not take place without the crisis

being accompanied by great political convulsions. In order to understand

the state of parties, of which the great leaders and principal orators

were the representatives, it is necessary to explain briefly in what

these changes consisted. The result of an obstinate and persevering

struggle during nearly four centuries was, that the old distinction of

patrician and plebeian no longer existed. Plebeians held the

consulship[386] and censorship,[387] and patricians, like the Gracchi,

stood forward as plebeian tribunes and champions of popular rights.

The distinctions of blood and race, therefore, were no longer regarded.

Most of the old patrician families were extinct. Niebuhr believes that

at this period not more than fifteen patrician “_gentes_” remained; and

the individual members of those which survived, if they maintained their

position at all, maintained it by personal influence. The constitutional

principle which determined the difference of ranks was property. This

line of demarkation between rich and poor was not an impassable one like

that of birth, but it had now become very broad and deep, owing to the

accumulation of wealth in few hands; and thus between these two orders

there was as little sympathy as there had been between the patrician

creditors and the plebeian debtors in the earlier times of the republic.

But besides this constitutional principle of distinction, there was

another of a more aristocratic nature, which owed its erection to public

opinion. Those families the members of which had held high public

offices were termed _nobiles_ (nobles.) Those individuals whose families

had never been so distinguished were termed new men (_novi homines_.)

Thus a man’s ancestors were made hostages for his patriotism; and so

trustworthy a pledge was hereditary merit considered for ability and

fidelity in the discharge of high functions, that only in a few

exceptional cases was the consulship, although open to all, conferred

upon a new man. One consequence of all these changes was, that the

struggle for political distinction became hotter than ever, and the

strife more vehement between the competitors for public favour.

These stirring times produced many celebrated orators. Papirius Carbo,

the ultra-liberal and unscrupulous colleague of Tiberius Gracchus, who

united the gift of a beautiful voice to copiousness and fluency; Lepidus

Porcina, who attained the perfection of Attic gentleness, and whom Tib.

Gracchus took as his model; Æmilius Scaurus, whom Statius libelled as of

ignoble birth; Rutilius Rufus, who was too upright to appeal to the

compassion of his judges;[388] M. Junius Pennus, who met by an insulting

alien act the bill of Gracchus for the enfranchisement of the Italians.

The Gracchi themselves were each in a different degree eloquent, and

possessed those endowments and accidents of birth which would recommend

their eloquence to their countrymen. Gentleness and kindness were the

characteristics of this illustrious race. Their father, by his mild

administration, attached to himself the warm affection of the Spaniards.

Their mother inherited the strong mind and genius of Scipio. To a sound

knowledge of Greek and Latin literature[389] and a talent for poetry,

she added feminine accomplishments. She danced elegantly, more

elegantly, indeed, than according to the strict notions of Roman

morality a woman of character need have done. She could also sing and

accompany herself upon the lute. To her care in early youth the

illustrious brothers owed the development of their natural endowments,

and the direction of their generous principles. Cicero tells us that he

had seen the letters of this remarkable woman, which showed how much her

sons were indebted to her teaching. Greek philosophers aided her in her

work; and the accomplished Lælius contributed to add grace and polish to

the more solid portions of her education.

Notwithstanding that the political principles which the Gracchi embraced

were the same, their characters, or, more properly speaking, their

temperaments, widely differed, and their style of speaking was, as might

be expected, in accordance with their respective dispositions. Tiberius

was cold, deliberate, sedate, reserved. The storms of passion never

ruffled the calmness of his feelings. His speaking, therefore, was

self-possessed and grave, as stoical as his philosophical creed. His

conduct was not the result of impulse, but of a strict sense of duty.

Cicero termed him _homo sanctissimus_, and his style was as chastened as

his integrity was spotless. Such, if we may trust Plutarch, was the

character of his oratory, for no fragments remain.

Caius, who was nine years younger than his brother, was warm,

passionate, and impetuous: he was inferior to Tiberius morally, as he

was intellectually his superior. His impulses were generous and amiable,

but he had not that unswerving rectitude of purpose which is the result

of moral principle. He had, however, more genius, more creative power.

His imagination, lashed by the violence of his passions, required a

strong curb; but for that reason it gushed forth as from a natural

fountain, and like a torrent carried all before it. On one occasion, to

which Cicero alludes,[390] his look, his voice, his gestures, were so

inexpressibly affecting, that even his enemies were dissolved in tears.

It is said that in his calmer moments he was conscious that his

vehemence was apt to offend against good taste, and employed a slave to

stand near him with a pitch-pipe, in order that he might regulate his

voice when passion rendered the tones unmusical. His education enabled

him to rid himself of the harshness of the old school, and to gain the

reputation of being the father of Roman prose. But his impetuosity made

him leave unfinished that which he had well begun. “His language was

noble, his sentiments wise; gravity pervaded his whole style, but his

works wanted the last finishing stroke. There were many glorious

beginnings, but they were not brought to perfection.”[391] Several

fragments remain, which confirm the correctness of Cicero’s

criticism—one of the most beautiful is from his speech against Popilius

Lænas, which drove that blood-thirsty tyrant into voluntary exile.

Oratory began now to be studied more as an art, and to be invested with

a more polished garb. The interval between the Gracchi and Cicero

boasted of many distinguished names, such as those of Q. Catulus, Curio,

Fimbria, Scævola, Cotta, P. Sulpicius, and the Memmii. The most

illustrious names of this epoch were M. Antonius, L. Licinius Crassus,

and Cicero’s immediate predecessor and most formidable rival,

Hortensius. Antony and Crassus, says Cicero, were the first Romans who

elevated eloquence to the heights to which it had been raised by Greek

genius.[392] From this complaint it may be inferred that,

notwithstanding the popular prejudice which existed against Greek taste,

and to which even Cicero himself sometimes conceived himself obliged to

yield,[393] the leading orators had ceased to take the specimens of old

Roman eloquence as their models. Cicero asserts[394] that both Antony

and Crassus owed their eminence to a diligent study of Greek literature,

and to the instructions of Greek professors. The former, he says,

attended regularly lectures at Athens and Rhodes, and the latter spoke

Greek as if it had been his mother tongue. Yet both had the

narrow-minded vanity to deny their obligations: they thought their

eloquence would be more popular, the one by showing contempt for the

Greeks, the other by affecting not to know them.

M. ANTONIUS.

M. Antonius entered public life as a pleader, and thus laid the

foundation of his brilliant political career; but he was through life

greater as a judicial than as a deliberative orator. He was

indefatigable in preparing his case, and made every point tell: he was a

great master of the pathetic, and knew the way to the hearts of the

_judices_. He was not free from the prevailing fault of advocates, of

being somewhat unscrupulous in his assertions; and the reason which he

is said to have given for never having published any of his speeches

was, lest he should be forced to deny his words. This statement,

however, is refuted by Cicero.[395] Although he did not himself give his

speeches to posterity, some of his most pointed expressions and

favourite passages left an indelible impression on the memories of his

hearers: many are preserved by Cicero, who has given us also a complete

epitome of one of them.[396] In the prime of life, he fell a victim to

political fury; and his bleeding head was placed upon the rostrum which

was so frequently the scene of his eloquent triumphs.

L. LICINIUS CRASSUS.

L. Licinius Crassus was four years younger than Antonius, having been

born B. C. 140. It is not known whether he was connected with the

distinguished family whose name he bore. He commenced his career at the

Roman bar.[397] At the early age of twenty-one, he successfully

impeached C. Carbo, and in the year B. C. 118 supported the foundation

of a colony at Narbo, in Gaul. A measure so beneficial to the poorer

citizens increased his popularity as well as his professional fame. He

went to Asia as quæstor, and there studied under Metrodorus the

rhetorician. On his way home he remained a short time at Athens, and

attended the lectures of the leading professors.

Notwithstanding his knowledge of jurisprudence, and his early eminence

as a pleader, the speech which established his reputation was a

political one. Under the Roman judicial system, the prætor presided in

court, with a certain number of assessors, (judices,) who gave their

verdict like our jurymen. These were chosen from the senators.

Experience proved that not only in their determination to stand by their

order they were guilty of partiality, but that they had also been open

to bribery. The knights constituted the nearest approach which could be

found to a rich middle class. C. Gracchus, therefore, by the “Lex

Sempronia,” transferred the administration of justice to a body of three

hundred men, chosen from the equestrian order. This promised to be a

salutary change; but so corrupt was the whole framework of Roman

society, that it did not prove effectual. The _Publicani_, who farmed

the revenues of the provinces, were all Roman knights. The new judges,

therefore, were as anxious to shield the peculations and extortions of

their own brethren as the old had been.

In B. C. 106, L. Servilius Cæpio brought in a bill for the restoration

of the judicial office to the senators. In support of this measure (the

first Lex Servilia,) Crassus delivered a powerful and triumphant

oration, in which he warmly espoused the cause of the senate, whom he

had before as strenuously opposed on the question of the colony to

Narbo. This speech was his _chef-d’œuvre_.[398] After serving the office

of consul,[399] in which he seems to have mistaken his vocation by

exchanging the toga for the sword, he was raised to the censorship.[400]

His year of office is celebrated for the closing the schools of the

Latin rhetoricians by an edict of himself and his colleague. The

foundations of these schools had been laid in the ruins of the Greek

schools, when the philosophers and rhetoricians were banished from

Rome.[401] Although the censorial power could suppress the schools, it

could not put a stop to the education given there. The professors found

a refuge in private mansions; and thus, protected and fostered by

intelligent patrons, continued to fulfil their duties as instructors of

youth. How often did literature at Rome have to seek an asylum from

private patronage against the rude attacks of public prejudice! The

reasons for the measure of Crassus are stated in the preamble.[402]

These schools were a novelty; they were contrary to ancient

institutions; they encouraged idle habits among the Roman youth. Cicero

defended this arbitrary act on the ground that the professors pretended

to teach subjects of which they were themselves ignorant; but Cicero

could scarcely find a fault in Crassus. He thought him a model of

perfection—the first of orators and jurists.[403] He saw no

inconsistency in his conduct in the cases of the Narbonne colony and the

Servilian law.[404] He is lavish in his praises of his wit and

facetiousness, (lepor et facetiæ,[405]) and applies to his malignant and

ill-natured jokes the term urbanity. The bon-mots of Crassus were by no

means superior to the generality of Roman witticisms, which were

deficient in point, although they were personal, caustic, and

severe.[406] The grave Romans were content with a very little wit; the

quality for which they looked in an oration was not playfulness, but

skill in the art of ingenious tormenting. Crassus never uttered a jest

equal to that of old Cato, when he said of Q. Helvidius, the glutton,

whose house was on fire, “What he could not eat he has burned.”[407]

His conduct with respect to the Latin schools, and his self-indulgent

life in his magnificent mansion on the Palatine, prove that he had

retained the narrow-mindedness of the old Romans without their

temperance and self-denial, and had acquired the luxury and taste of the

Greeks without their liberality. If, however, we make some allowance for

partiality, Crassus deserves the favourable criticism of Cicero.[408]

His style is careful and yet not laboured—it is elegant, accurate, and

perspicuous. He seems to have possessed considerable powers of

illustration, and great clearness in explaining and defining; his

delivery was calm and self-possessed, his action sufficiently vehement,

but not excessive.[409] He took especial pains with the commencement of

his speech. When he was about to speak, every one was prepared to

listen, and the very first words which he uttered showed him worthy of

the expectation formed. No one better understood the difficult art of

uniting elegance with brevity.

From amongst the crowd of orators which were then flourishing in the

last days of expiring Roman liberty, Cicero selected Crassus to be the

representative of his sentiments in his imaginary conversation in the

_de Oratore_. He felt that their tastes were congenial. In this most

captivating essay, he introduces his readers to a distinguished literary

circle, men who united activity in public life with a taste for refined

leisure. Antony, Crassus, Scævola, Cotta, and Sulpicius, met at Tusculum

to talk of the politics of the day. For this especial purpose they had

come, and all day long they ceased not to converse on these grave

matters. They spoke not of lighter matters until they reclined at

supper. Their day seemed to have been spent in the senate, their evening

at Tusculum. Next day, in the serene and sunny climate of Frascati, a

scene well fitted for the calm repose of a Platonic dialogue, Scævola

proposed to imitate the Socrates of Plato, and converse, as the great

philosopher did, beneath the shade of a plane-tree. Crassus assented,

suggesting only that cushions would be more convenient than the grass.

So the dialogue began in which Crassus is made the mouthpiece to deliver

the sentiments of Cicero.

Like our own Chatham, Crassus almost died on the floor of the

senate-house, and his last effort was in support of the aristocratic

party. His opponent, Philippus the consul, strained his power to the

utmost to insult him, and ordered his goods to be seized. His last words

were worthy of him. He mourned the bereavement of the senate—that the

consul, like a sacrilegious robber, should strip of its patrimony the

very order of which he ought to have been a kind parent or faithful

guardian. “It is useless,” he continued, “to seize these: if you will

silence Crassus, you must tear out his tongue, and even then my liberty

shall breathe forth a refutation of thy licentiousness!” The paroxysm

was too much for him; fever ensued, and in seven days he was a corpse.

We must pass over numerous names contained in the catalogue of Cicero,

mentioning by the way Cotta and the two Sulpicii. Cotta’s taste was

pure; but his delicate lungs made his oratory too tame for his vehement

countrymen. Publius Sulpicius had all the powers of a tragic actor to

influence the passions, but professed that he could not write, and

therefore left no specimens behind him. His reluctance to write must

have been the result of reserve or of indolence, and not of inability,

for nothing can be more tender and touching, and yet more philosophical,

than his letter to Cicero on the death of his beloved daughter.[410]

Servius, like too many orators, and even Cicero himself, at first

despised an accurate knowledge of the Roman law. The great Scævola,

however, rebuked him, and reminded him how disgraceful it was for one

who desired the reputation of an advocate to be ignorant of law. These

words excited his emulation; he ardently devoted himself to the study of

jurisprudence,[411] and at length is said to have surpassed even Scævola

himself.

Q. HORTENSIUS.

The last of the pre-Ciceronian orators was Hortensius. Although he was

scarcely eight years senior to the greatest of all Roman orators, he

cannot be considered as belonging to the same literary period, since the

genius and eloquence of Cicero constitute the commencement of a new era.

He was, nevertheless, his contemporary and his rival; and all that is

known respecting his career is derived from the writings of Cicero.

Q. Hortensius was the son of L. Hortensius, prætor of Sicily, B. C. 97.

He was born B. C. 114; and, as it was the custom that noble Roman youths

should be called to the bar at an early age, he commenced his career as

a pleader at nineteen, and pleaded, with applause and success, before

two consuls who were excellent judges of his merits, the orator Crassus

and the jurist Scævola. His first speech was in support of the province

of Africa against the extortions of the governor. In his second he

defended Nicomedes, king of Bithynia, against his brother, who had

dethroned him. When Crassus and Antony were dead, he was left without

any rival except Cotta, but he soon surpassed him.[412] The eloquence of

Cotta was too languid to stand against the impetuous flow, and he thus

became the acknowledged leader of the Roman bar until the star of Cicero

arose. They first came in contact when Cicero pleaded the cause of

Quintius, and in that oration he pays the highest possible compliment to

the talents and genius of Hortensius.

His political connexion with the faction of Sulla, and his unscrupulous

support of the profligate corruption which characterized that

administration both at home and abroad, enlisted his legal talents in

defence of the infamous Verres; but the eloquence of Cicero, together

with the justice of the cause which he espoused, prevailed, and from

that time forward his superiority over Hortensius was established and

complete. But the admiration which Cicero entertained for his rival had

ripened into friendship, which neither the fact of their being retained

on opposite sides, nor even difference in politics, had power to

interrupt. The only danger which ever threatened its stability was some

little jealousy on the part of Cicero—a jealousy which must be

attributed to his morbid temperament and susceptible disposition. But

Hortensius was always a warm and affectionate friend to Cicero, and

Cicero was affected with the deepest grief when he heard of the death of

Hortensius.[413] The time at length arrived when identity of political

sentiments drew them more closely together; and it is to this we owe the

place which Hortensius so often occupies in the letters and other works

of the great Roman orator.

Cicero had originally espoused the popular cause; but his zeal gradually

became less ardent, and the Catilinarian conspiracy threw him entirely

into the arms of the aristocratic party. At the Roman bar politics had

great influence in determining the side taken by the leading advocates.

They were virtually the great law officers of the party in the republic

to which they belonged, and had, as it were, general retainers on their

own side. Hence Hortensius generally advocated the same side with

Cicero. Together they defended Rabirius, Muræna, Flaccus, Sextius,

Scaurus, and Milo; but the former seems to have at once acknowledged his

inferiority, and henceforward to have taken but little part in public

life. In B. C. 51, he defended his nephew from a charge of bribery; but

the guilt of the accused was so plain that the people hissed him when he

entered the theatre.[414] The following year he died, at the age of

seventy-five, and left behind him a daughter, whose eloquence is

celebrated in history. An oration, of which she was the author, was read

in the time of Quintilian for the sake of its own merits, and not as a

mere compliment to the female sex. Q. Hortensius has been accused of

corruption; and his attachment to a corrupt party, his luxurious habits,

extravagant expenditure, numerous villas, and enormous wealth, make it

probable that this suspicion was not unfounded. He was an easy,

kind-hearted, hospitable, but self-indulgent man. His park was a

complete menagerie; his fish-ponds were stocked with fish so tame that

they would feed from his hand. His gardens were so carefully kept that

he even watered his trees with wine. He had a taste for both poetry and

painting, wrote some amatory verses, and for one picture gave 140,000

sesterces, (about 1,100_l._) His table was sumptuous; and peacocks were

seen for the first time in Rome at his banquets. His cellar was so well

supplied that he left 10,000 casks of Chian wine behind him.[415]

Cicero[416] tells us that the principal reason of Hortensius’ early

popularity and subsequent failure was, that his style of eloquence was

suited to the brilliance and liveliness of youth, but not the dignity

and gravity of mature age. In those days there were two parties,[417]

who differed in their views as to the theory of eloquence; the one

admired the oratory of the Attic rhetoricians, which was calm, polished,

refined, eschewing all redundancies; the other that of the Asiatic

schools, which was florid and ornate.

Cicero[418] tells us that the style of Hortensius’ eloquence was

Asiatic; and as the characteristic of his own eloquence is Asiatic

diffuseness rather than Attic closeness, and he often seems to consider

this quality of Asiatic eloquence least worthy of admiration, it is

possible that Hortensius carried it to excess, perhaps even to the

borders of affectation. In a youthful orator excess of ornament is

pardonable, because it is natural; it gives promise of future excellence

when genius becomes sobered and luxuriance retrenched.

Hortensius, a prosperous and spoilt child of nature, was a young man all

his life: there was nothing to cast a gloom over his gayety; and to

those of his auditors who possessed good taste, this juvenility seemed

inconsistent, and threw into the shade the finish, polish, and animation

which characterized his style. His delivery was probably no less

unsuitable to more advanced years. We are told that Æsop and Roscius

used to study his action as a lesson;[419] and that one Torquatus

sneeringly called him Dionysius, who was a celebrated dancer of that

day. His defence was clever: “I had rather,” he said, “be that than a

clumsy Torquatus.” But these very anecdotes seem to imply that his

delivery was somewhat foppish and theatrical.

CHAPTER XIII.

STUDY OF JURISPRUDENCE—EARLIEST SYSTEMATIC WORKS ON ROMAN LAW—GROUNDWORK

OF THE ROMAN CIVIL LAW—EMINENT JURISTS—THE SCÆVOLÆ—ÆLIUS GALLUS—C.

AQUILIUS GALLUS, A LAW REFORMER—OTHER JURISTS—GRAMMARIANS.

Politics and jurisprudence were the subjects on which the Romans

especially pursued independent lines of thought; but their jurisprudence

was the more original of the two. Although the practical development of

their political system was entirely the work of this eminently practical

people, still in the theory of political science they were followers and

imitators of the Greeks. But in jurisprudence, the help which they

derived from Greece was very slight. The mere framework, so far as the

laws of the Twelve Tables are concerned, came to them from Athens; but

the complete structure was built up by their own hands; and by their

skill and prudence they were the authors of a system possessing such

stability, that they bequeathed it as an inheritance to modern Europe,

and traces of Roman law are visible in the legal systems of the whole

civilized world.

Roman jurisprudence is, of course, a subject of too great extent to be

treated of as its importance deserves in a work like the present; but

still it is so closely connected with eloquence that it cannot be

dismissed without a few words. It has been already stated that arms,

politics, and the bar were the avenues to distinction; and thus many an

ambitious youth, who learned the art of war in a foreign campaign under

some experienced general, occupied himself also at home in the forum.

Not only was the young patrician conscious that he could not efficiently

discharge his first duty to his clients without possessing sufficient

ability and knowledge to defend their rights in a court of law, but this

was an effectual method of showing his fitness for a public career.

Eminence as a jurisconsult opened a direct path to eminence as a

statesman.[420] He must be like Pollio, “_Insigne mæstis præsidium

reis_,” as well as “_Consulenti curiæ_.”[421]

Hence the complicated principles of jurisprudence and of the Roman

constitution became a necessary part of a liberal education. The

brilliant orator, indeed, did sometimes affect to look down with

contempt on such black-letter and antiquarian lore, and stigmatize it as

pedantry;[422] but still common sense compelled the sober-minded to

acknowledge the necessity of the study. They saw that in the courts

eloquence could only be considered as the handmaid to legal knowledge,

even though the saying of Quintilian were true—“_Et leges ipsæ nihil

valent nisi actoris idoneâ voce munitæ_.”[423] When, therefore, a Roman

youth had completed his studies under his teacher of rhetoric, he not

only frequented the forum in order to learn the practical application of

the oratorical principles which he had acquired, and frequently took

some celebrated orator as a model, but also studied the principles of

jurisprudence under an eminent jurist, and attended the consultations in

which they gave to their clients their expositions of law. In fact the

young Roman acquired his legal knowledge in the _atrium_ of the

jurisconsult, somewhat in the same manner that the law student of the

present day pursues his education in the chambers of a barrister. He

studied the subject practically and empirically rather than in its

theory and general principles.

Almost all the knowledge which we possess is derived from the labours of

writers who flourished long after constitutional liberty had expired.

The earliest systematic works on Roman law were the Enchiridion or

Manual of Pomponius, and the Institutes of Gaius, who flourished in the

times of Hadrian and the Antonines. Both these works were for a long

time lost, although numerous fragments were preserved in the Pandects or

Digest of Justinian. In 1816, however, Niebuhr discovered a palimpsest

MS., in which the Epistles of St. Jerome were written over the erased

Institutes of Gaius. But owing to the decisions and interpretations of

the great practising jurists, to the want of any system of reporting and

recording, and to the numerous misunderstandings of the Roman historians

respecting the laws and constitutional history of their country, the

whole subject long continued in a state of confusion: new contradictory

theories had been gradually introduced, and old difficulties had not

been explained and reconciled. Gian Baptista Vico, in his _Scienza

Nova_, was the first who dispelled the clouds of error and reduced it to

a system; and his example was afterwards so successfully followed by

Niebuhr, that modern students can understand the subject more clearly,

and have a more comprehensive antiquarian knowledge of it, than the

writers of the Augustan age.

The earliest Roman laws were the _Leges Regiæ_, which were collected and

codified by Sextus Papirius, and were hence called the Papirian Code.

But these were rude and unconnected—simply a collection of isolated

enactments. The laws of the Twelve Tables stand next in point of

antiquity. They exhibited the first attempts at regular system, and

imbodied not only legislative enactments but legal principles.[424] So

popular were they, that when Cicero was a child every Roman boy

committed them to memory as our children learn their catechism,[425] and

the great orator laments that in the course of his lifetime this

practice had become obsolete. The explanation of these laws was a

privilege confined to the pontifical college. This body alone prescribed

the form of pleading, and published the days on which the courts were

held. Hence, not only the whole practice and exposition of the law was

in the hands of the patricians, but they had also the power of

obstructing at their pleasure all legal business. But in the censorship

of Appius Claudius, his secretary, Cn. Flavius, set up, at the

suggestion of Appius, a Calendar in the Forum, which made known to the

public the days on which legal business could be transacted. In vain the

patricians endeavoured to maintain their monopoly by the invention of

new formulæ, called Notes, for Tiberius Coruncanius, the first plebeian

Pontifex Maximus, who was consul A. U. C. 474, opened a public school of

jurisprudence, and in the middle of the next century[426] the “Notes”

were published by Sextus Ælius Catus.

The oral traditional expositions of these laws formed the groundwork of

the Roman civil law. To these were added from time to time the decrees

of the people (plebiscita,) the acts of the senate (senatus-consulta,)

and the prætorian edicts, which announced the principles on which each

successive prætor purposed to administer the statute law.

Such were the various elements out of which the whole body of Roman law

was composed; and in such early times was the subject diligently studied

and expounded that the latter half of the sixth century A. U. C. was

rich in jurists whose powers are celebrated in history. Besides S. Ælius

Catus, already mentioned, P. Licinius Crassus, surnamed “the rich,” who

was consul A. U. C. 549, is mentioned by Livy[427] as learned in the

pontifical law, the canon law of the ancient Romans. L. Acilius also

wrote commentaries on the laws of the Twelve Tables; and to these may be

added T. Manlius Torquatus, consul A. U. C. 589, S. Fabius Pictor, and

another member of the same distinguished family, Q. Fabius Labeo, Cato

the censor and his son Porcius Cato Licinianus, and lastly P. Cornelius

Nasica, whose services as a jurist were recognised by the grant of a

house at the public expense.

The most eminent jurists who adorned the next century were the Scævolæ.

In their family the profession of the jurisconsult seems to have been

hereditary; of so many bearing that distinguished name, it might have

been said that their house was the oracle of the whole state; “Domus

jurisconsulti totius oraculum civitatis.”[428] Quintus, the augur, was

Cicero’s first instructor in the science of the law: his cousin Publius

enjoyed also a high reputation; and Quintus, the son of Publius, who

became Cicero’s tutor after the death of his elder kinsman, combined the

genius of an orator with the erudition of a jurist, and was called by

his distinguished pupil “the greatest orator among jurists, and the

greatest jurist among orators.” The compiler of the digest also quotes

as authorities M. Manilius and M. Junius Brutus.[429] Manilius is one of

the characters introduced in Cicero’s dialogue _de Republica_: he was

consul A. U. C. 604, and is said to have been the author of seven legal

treatises; but of all these, except three, Cicero denies the authority.

Brutus was the son of the ambassador of that name who was employed in

the war with Perseus, and left a treatise in three books on the civil

law.[430]

In the next century flourished one Ælius Gallus, who was somewhat senior

to Cicero, and was the author of a treatise on the signification of law

terms. Several of his definitions are given by Festus, and fragments are

preserved by A. Gellius,[431] and in the Digest. By some he has been

considered identical with Ælius Gallus, the prefect of Egypt in the

reign of Augustus,[432] who was the friend of the geographer Strabo; but

as there is little doubt that he is quoted by Varro,[433] such identity

is impossible, since Varro died B. C. 28, and yet he speaks of Gallus as

an aged man. Another distinguished jurist of this era was his namesake

C. Aquilius Gallus. He was a pupil of Q. Mucius Scævola, and surpassed

all his contemporaries in that black-letter knowledge of law, which in

olden time was more highly valued than in the more brilliant days of

Cicero. Learning then began to be ridiculed and lightly esteemed, and

oratorical powers were more admired in proportion as the Roman mind

became more alive to the refinements and beauties of language.

But Gallus was most eminent as a law reformer. The written law of Rome

presented by its technicality the greatest impediments to actions on the

unwritten principle of common right and equity. To obviate this he

invented legal fictions, _i. e._ formulæ by which the effects of the

statute could be annulled without the necessity of abrogating the

statute itself. His practice must have been large, for Pliny mentions

that he was the owner of a splendid palace on the Viminal Hill.[434] In

B. C. 67, he served the office of prætor together with Cicero, and both

before and after that he frequently sat as one of the judices. Cicero

pleaded before him in the defence both of Cæcina and Cluentius.

Besides Aquilius Gallus, three of the most distinguished jurists, who

were a few years senior to Cicero, owed their legal knowledge to the

instructions of Mucius Scævola. These were—C. Juventius, Sextus

Papirius, and L. Lucilius Balbus, the last of whom is mentioned by

Cicero,[435] and his works are quoted by his eminent pupil Sulpicius

Rufus.

GRAMMARIANS.

Towards the conclusion of this literary period a great increase took

place in the numbers of those learned men whom the Romans termed

“_Litterati_,”[436] but afterwards, following the custom of the Greeks,

Grammarians, (_Grammatici_.[437]) To them literature was under deep

obligations. Although few of them were authors, and all of them men of

acquired learning rather than of original genius, they exercised a

powerful influence over the public mind as professors, lecturers,

critics, and school-masters. By them the youths of the best families not

only were imbued with a taste for Greek philosophy and poetry, but also

were taught to appreciate the literature of their own country.

Suetonius places at the head of the class Livius Andronicus and Ennius;

but their fame as poets eclipses their reputation as mere critics and

commentators.

The first professed grammarian whom he mentions is Crates Mallotes, who,

between the first and second Punic wars, was sent to Rome by Attalus.

The unfortunate ambassador fell into an open drain and broke his leg,

and beguiled the tediousness of his confinement by reading a course of

philological lectures. After him C. Octavius Lampadio edited the works

of Nævius; Q. Vargunteius those of Ennius; and Lælius, Archelaus,

Vectius, and Q. Philocomus read and explained to a circle of auditors

the Satires of Lucilius.

Most of these grammarians were emancipated slaves: some were Greeks,

some barbarians. Sævius Nicanor and Aurelius Opilius were freedmen: the

latter had belonged to the household of some Epicurean philosopher.

Cornelius Epicadus was a freedman of Sulla, and completed the

Commentaries which his patron left unfinished, and Lenæus was freedman

of Pompey the Great. M. Pompilius Andronicus was a Syrian; M. Antonius

Gnipho, though of ingenuous birth, a Gaul. Servius Clodius, however, and

L. Ælius Lanuvinus were Roman knights. Nor were the labours of these

industrious scholars confined to Rome, or even to Italy; for Octavius

Teucer, Siscennius Iacchus and Oppius Chares gave instructions in the

province of Gallia Togata.

To the names already mentioned may be added those of L. Ælius Stilo, who

accompanied L. Metellus Numidicus into exile, and Valerius Cato, who not

only taught the art of poetry, but was himself a poet.

We have now traced from its infancy the rise and progress of Roman

literature, and watched the gradual opening of the national intellect.

The dawn has gently broken, the light has steadily increased, and is now

succeeded by the noon-day brilliance of the “golden age.”

BOOK II.

THE ERA OF CICERO AND AUGUSTUS.

CHAPTER I.

PROSE THE TEST OF THE CONDITION OF A LANGUAGE—DRAMATIC LITERATURE

EXTINCT—MIMES—DIFFERENCE BETWEEN ROMAN AND GREEK MIMES—LABERIUS—PASSAGES

FROM HIS POETRY—MATIUS CALVENA—MIMIAMBI—PUBLIUS SYRUS—ROMAN

PANTOMIME—ITS LICENTIOUSNESS—PRINCIPAL ACTORS OF PANTOMIME.

During the period upon which we are now entering, Roman literature

arrived at its greatest perfection. The time at which it attained the

highest point of excellence is fixed by Niebuhr[438] about A. U. C. 680,

when Cicero was between thirty and forty years old. Poetry, indeed,

still continued to improve, as regarded metrical structure and diction,

in finish, smoothness, and harmony. There is _ex. gr._ in these respects

a marked difference between the works of Lucretius and Virgil; but

nevertheless the principles of language now became fixed and settled. In

fact, the condition of a language must be judged of by its prose; so

must likewise the state of perfection to which its literature has

attained. If poetry could be with propriety assumed as the standard, the

commencement of the empire of Augustus would constitute the best age of

Latin literature, rather than the time when the forum echoed with the

eloquence of Cicero; but in the two ages of Cicero and Augustus, taken

together as forming one era, is comprehended the golden age both of

poetry and prose.

Dramatic literature, however, never recovered from the trance into which

it had fallen. The stage had not altogether lost that popularity which

it had possessed in the days of Attius and Terence, for Æsopus and

Roscius, the former the great tragedian, the latter the favourite

comedian, in the time of Cicero, amassed great wealth. Æsopus lived

liberally,[439] and yet bequeathed a fortune to his son, and Roscius is

said to have earned daily the sum of thirty-two pounds.

Notwithstanding, also, the degradation attached to the social position

of an actor, both these eminent artists enjoyed the friendship of Cicero

and other great men. They brought to the study of their profession

industry, taste, talent, and learning, and these qualities were

appreciated. Æsopus was on one occasion encored a countless number of

times (_millies_)[440] by an enthusiastic audience, and Roscius was

elevated by Sulla to the equestrian dignity. But although the standard

Roman plays were constantly represented, dramatic literature had become

extinct. No one wrote comedy at all, and the tragedies of Valgius Rufus

and Asinius Pollio were only intended for reading or recitation. Nor, as

has been already shown, does the Thyestes of Varus really form an

exception to this statement.

The dramatic entertainments which had now taken the place of comedy and

tragedy were termed mimes.

Their distinguishing appellation was derived from the Greek, but they

entirely differed from those compositions to which the Greeks applied

that title. The latter were written not in verse, but in prose;[441]

they were dialogues, not dramatic pieces, and though they were exhibited

at certain festivals, and the parts supported by actors, they were never

represented on the stage. Even when Sophron, whose compositions were

admired and imitated by Plato,[442] raised them to their highest degree

of perfection, and made them vehicles of serious moral lessons mingling

together ludicrous buffoonery with grave philosophy, their language was

only a rhythmical prose, probably somewhat resembling that in which the

celebrated despatch of Hippocrates[443] was written. Some idea may be

formed of their nature from the fact that the idylls of Theocritus were

imitated from the mimes of Sophron, and that Persius took them for his

model in his peculiarly dramatic satires.[444]

The Roman mimes were laughable imitations of manners and persons. So far

they combined features of comedy and farce; for comedy represents the

characters of a class—farce those of individuals. Their essence was that

of the modern pantomime; mimicry and burlesque dialogue were only

accidentally introduced. Their coarseness and even indecency[445]

gratified the love of broad humour which characterized the Roman people.

They became successful rivals of comedy, and thus came to be admitted on

the public stage. It is most probable that like other dramatic

exhibitions, they originally grew out of the Fabulæ Atellanæ, which they

afterwards superseded. But notwithstanding their indecency, their satire

upon the living, and their burlesque representations of the illustrious

dead, when exhibited at funeral games, they had sometimes, like the

mimes of Sophron, a moral character, and abounded in shrewd wisdom and

noble sentiments.[446] Schlegel asserts that there is a great affinity

between the Roman mimes and the pasquinades and harlequinades of modern

Italy. He conjectures that in them may be traced the germ of the

_Comedie dell’ Arte_, and states that the very picture of Polichinello

is found in some of the frescoes of Pompeii.

After a time, when mimes became established as popular favourites, the

dialogue or written part of the entertainment occupied a more prominent

position, and was written in verse, like that of tragedy or comedy. In

the dictatorship of Julius Cæsar, a Roman knight, named Decius Laberius,

became eminent for his mimes. Respecting his merits, we have few

opportunities of forming a judgment, as the fragments of his

writings[447] are but few and short; but Horace[448] speaks of them in

unfavourable language, and finds fault with their carelessness and want

of regular plan. He was born about B. C. 107,[449] and died B. C. 45, at

Puteoli, (Pozzuoli.) The profession of an actor of mimes was infamous;

but Laberius was a writer, not an actor. It happened, however, that P.

Syrus, who had been first the slave, then the freedman and pupil of

Laberius, and lastly a professional actor, challenged all his brethren

to a trial of improvisatorial skill. Cæsar entreated Laberius to enter

the lists, and offered him five hundred sestertia (about 4,000_l._)

Laberius did not submit to the degradation for the sake of the money,

but he was afraid to refuse. The only method of retaliation in his power

was sarcasm. His part was that of a slave, and when his master scourged

him, he exclaimed, “Porro, Quirites, libertatem perdimus!” His words

were received with a round of applause, and the audience fixed their

eyes on Cæsar. On another occasion his attack on the Dictator was almost

threatening:—

Necesse est multos timeat quem multi timent.

He appears to have been always quick and ready in repartee. When, on

being vanquished by his adversary Syrus, the Dictator said to him with a

sneer—

Favente tibi me victus es Laberi a Syro,

He replied with the following sad but true reflections:—

Non possunt primi esse omnes omni in tempore,

Summum ad gradum cum claritatis veneris

Consistes ægre; et quum descendas decides;

Cecidi ego, cadet qui sequitur, laus est publica.

Cæsar, however, restored to him the rank and equestrian privileges of

which his act had deprived him; but still he could not recover the

respect of his countrymen. As he passed the orchestra in his way to the

stalls of the knights, Cicero cried out, “If we were not so crowded, I

would make room for you here.” Laberius replied, alluding to Cicero’s

lukewarmness as a political partisan, “I am astonished that you should

be crowded, as you generally sit on two stools.” The calm and feeling

rebuke with which, in the prologue to his mime, he remonstrated against

the tyranny of Cæsar, is singularly spirited and beautiful:—

Necessitas, cujus cursus transversi impetum

Voluerunt multi effugere, pauci potuerunt,

Quo me detrusit pæne extremis sensibus?

Quem nulla ambitio, nulla unquam largitio,

Nullus timor, vis nulla, nulla auctoritas

Movere potuit in juventa de statu;

Ecce in senecta ut facile labefecit loco

Viri excellentis mente clemente edita

Submissa placide blandiloquens oratio!

Etenim ipsi Dii negare cui nihil potuerunt,

Hominem me denegare quis possit pati?

Ergo bis tricenis actis annis sine nota

Eques Romanus lare egressus meo

Domum revertas mimus; Nimirum hoc die

Uno plus vixi mihi quam vivendum fuit

Fortuna, immoderata in bono æque atque in malo,

Si tibi erat libitum literarum laudibus

Floris cacumen nostræ famæ frangere,

Cur quum vigebam membris præviridantibus,

Satisfacere populo et tali cum poteram viro,

Non flexibilem me concurvasti ut carperes?

Nunc me quo dejicis? quid ad scenam affero?

Decorem formæ, an dignitatem corporis,

Animi virtutem, an vocis jucundæ sonum?

Ut hedera serpens vires arboreas necat,

Ita me vetustas amplexa annorum enecat,

Sepulchri similis nihil nomen retines.

O, strong Necessity! of whose swift course

So many feel, so few escape the force,

Whither, ah whither, in thy prone career,

Hast thou decreed this dying frame to bear?

Me, in my better days, nor foe, nor friend,

Nor threat, nor bribe, nor vanity could bend;

Now, lured by flattery, in my weaker age

I sink my knighthood and ascend the stage.

Yet muse not therefore—how shall man gainsay

Him whom the Deities themselves obey?

Sixty long years I’ve lived without disgrace

A Roman knight!—let dignity give place;

I’m Cæsar’s actor now, and compass more

In one short hour than all my life before.

O Fortune! fickle source of good and ill,

If here to place me was thy sovereign will,

Why, when I’d youth and faculties to please

So great a master, and such guests as these,

Why not compel me then, malicious power,

To the hard task of this degrading hour?

Where now, in what profound abyss of shame,

Dost thou conspire with Fate to sink my name?

Whence are my hopes? What voice can age supply

To charm the ear, what grace to please the eye?

Where is the active energy and art,

The look that guides its passion to the heart?

Age creeps like ivy o’er my withered trunk,

Its bloom all blasted and its vigour shrunk;

A tomb, where nothing but a name remains

To tell the world whose ashes it contains.

_Cumberland._

Another poet of this age who composed mimes was C. Matius, surnamed,

from his baldness, Calvena. His mimes were termed _Mimiambi_, because he

wrote in the iambic measure,[450] and he was also a translator of the

Iliad as well as the author of a work on cookery. His principal merit is

said to have been his skill in enriching his native language by the

introduction of new words.[451] He was somewhat younger than Laberius,

and enjoyed the friendship of the greatest amongst his contemporaries.

His intimacy with Julius Cæsar,[452] to whom he was warmly

attached,[453] and afterwards with Augustus,[454] gave him great

influence;[455] but he never took much part in the political strife

which imbittered his times, nor did he use his influence in order to

procure his own advancement.

His retired habits and love of literary leisure saved him from seeking

his happiness in the excitements of ambition. Cicero, who loved him

dearly, often mentions him in his letters, and pays a compliment[456] to

his learning and amiability. An interesting letter of his, which is

preserved in the collection of Cicero’s epistles to his friends,[457]

shows that he possessed an accomplished mind and an affectionate heart.

It cannot be supposed, therefore, that his _Mimiambi_ were debased by

the too common faults of coarseness and immodesty.

PUBLIUS SYRUS.

Publius Syrus was, as his name implies, originally a Syrian slave, and

took his prænomen from the master who gave him his freedom. All that is

known respecting his life has already been stated in the account of

Laberius. The commendations which his mimes received from the ancients,

especially from Cicero,[458] Seneca,[459] and Pliny,[460] prove them to

have been much read and admired. The fragments which still remain are

marked by wit and neatness, and the shrewd wisdom of proverbial

philosophy. Tradition has also recorded a _bon-mot_ of his, which is as

witty as it is severe. Seeing once an ill-tempered man, named Mucius, in

low spirits, he remarked, “Either some bad fortune has happened to

Mucius, or some good fortune to one of his friends.” An accurate

knowledge of human nature, exhibited in pointed and terse language, most

probably constituted the charm of this species of scenic literature. The

large collection of his proverbial sayings, entitled _P. Syri

Sententiæ_, are by no means all genuine; but the nucleus around which

the collection has grown by successive additions is undoubtedly his, and

those which are the work of after ages are formed after the model of his

apothegms.

The Roman pantomime differed somewhat from the mime—it was a ballet of

action performed by a single dancer. It was first introduced in its

complete form in the reign of Augustus: and Suidas,[461] misquoting a

passage from Zosimus,[462] groundlessly attributes the invention to the

emperor himself. As the mime bore some resemblance to the Atellan

farces, so the pantomime resembled the histrionic performances

introduced by Livius Andronicus. In both, the person who recited the

words (_canticum_[463]) was different from him who represented the

characters. In the pantomime, the _canticum_ was sung by a chorus

arrayed at the back of the stage. Until the times of the later emperors,

when vice was paraded with unblushing effrontery, women never acted in

pantomime; but the exhibition itself was sensual and licentious in its

character,[464] and the actors of it were deservedly deemed infamous,

and forbidden by Tiberius to hold any intercourse with Romans of

equestrian or senatorial dignity.[465] Nero, however, outraged public

decency by himself appearing in pantomime.[466] Fortunate was it for the

dignity of Rome that the face of the emperor was concealed behind a mask

which, unlike the performers in the mimes, the pantomimic actors always

wore. The players not only exhibited the human figure in the most

graceful attitudes, but represented every passion and emotion with such

truth, that the spectators could without difficulty understand the

story. Sometimes the scenes represented were founded upon the Greek

tragic drama; but for its purifying effect was substituted the awakening

of licentious passions.

These were the exhibitions which threw such discredit on the stage—which

called forth the well-deserved attacks of the early Christian fathers,

and caused them to declare that whoever attended them was unworthy of

the name of Christians. Had the drama not been so abused, had it

retained its original purity, and carried out the object attributed to

it by Aristotle, they would have seen in it not a nursery of vice, but a

school of virtue—not only an innocent amusement, but a powerful engine

to form the taste, to improve the morals, and to purify the feelings of

a people.

The principal actors of pantomime in the reign of Augustus were

Bathyllus, Hylas, and Pylades. In the reign of Nero the art was

practised by Latinus,[467] and Paris, who taught the emperor to dance,

and subsequently was put to death by Nero when he became his rival for

popular applause.[468] But those who attained the highest degree of

popularity were another Latinus, and another Paris, who flourished in

the reign of Domitian. Both have been immortalized in the epigrams of

Martial.[469] To the former, Martial attributes the power to fascinate

such stern and rigid moralists as resembled Cato, the Curii, and

Fabricii. The epitaph concludes with these lines:—

Vos me laurigeri parasitum dicite Phœbi,

Roma sui famulum dum sciat esse Jovis.

Say ye I gained the laurelled Phœbus’ love,

So that Rome hails me servant of her Jove.

The latter, by his popularity, acquired great influence at court, but

his profligacy proved his ruin. He intrigued with the empress Domitia;

and Domitian consequently divorced his wife, and caused Paris to be

assassinated. He has furnished a plot and a hero to Massinger’s play of

the “Roman Actor.” The simple and beautiful epitaph written to his

memory by Martial is as follows:—

Quisquis Flaminiam teris, viator,

Noli nobile præterire marmor.

Urbis deliciæ, salesque Nili,

Ars et gratia, lusus et voluptas;

Romani decus et dolor theatri,

Atque omnes Veneres, Cupidinesque,

Hoc sunt condita, quo Paris, sepulchro.

Whoe’er thou art, O traveller, stay!

Mark what proud tomb adorns the way.

The town’s delight, the wit of Nile,

Art, grace, mirth, pleasure, sport and smile:

The honour of the Roman stage,

The grief and sorrow of the age:

All Venuses and Loves lie here

Buried in Paris’ sepulchre.