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.
LUCRETIUS CARUS (BORN B. C. 95.)
Lucretius Carus might claim a place amongst philosophers as well as
poets, for his poem marks an epoch both in poetry and philosophy. But
his philosophy is a mere reflexion from that of Greece, whilst his
poetry is bright with the rays of original genius. A delineation,
therefore, of his characteristics as a writer of the imagination, will
present the more accurate idea of the place which he occupies amongst
Roman authors. It was no empty boast of his, that, as a poet, he
deserved the praise of originality—that he had opened a path through the
territory of the muse, untrodden before by poet’s foot—that he had drawn
from a virgin fountain, and culled fresh flowers whence the Muse had
never yet sought them to wreathe a garland for the poet’s brow.[470]
Few materials exist for the compilation of his biography. From two
passages[471] in his work, in which he states that his native language
was Latin, it is clear that he was born within the limits of Italy. The
date of his birth is generally fixed B. C. 95.[472] The prevalence of
the Epicurean philosophy, and the additional popularity with which his
talents invested the fashionable creed, combined to raise him to the
equestrian dignity; and, consistently with his cold and hopeless
atheism—his proud disbelief in a superintending Providence—he died by
his own hand in the prime of life and in the forty-fourth year of his
age.[473] The story that his work was written in the lucid intervals of
a madness produced by a love-potion, as well as his residence at Athens
for the purpose of study, rest upon no foundation.
His poem _On the Nature of Things_ is divided into six books, and is
written in imitation of that of Empedocles, who is the subject of his
warmest praise and admiration. Whilst its subject is philosophical and
its purpose didactic, its unity of design, the one point of view from
which he regards the various doctrines of the master whose principles he
adopts, claims for it the rank of an epic poem.
This epic structure prevents it from being a complete and systematic
survey of the whole Epicurean philosophy; but, notwithstanding this
deficiency in point of comprehensiveness, the exactness and fidelity
with which he represents those doctrines which he enunciates, renders
him deserving of the credit of having given to his countrymen, as far as
epic writing permitted, an accurate view of the philosophical system
which then enjoyed the highest degree of popularity.
Although Greek philosophy furnished Lucretius with his subject, and a
Greek poem served as a model, he also saw and valued the capabilities of
the Latin language—he wielded at will its power of embodying the noblest
thoughts, and showed how its copious and flexible properties could
overcome the hard technicalities of science. Grand as were his
conceptions, the language of Lucretius is not inferior to them in
majesty. Without violating philosophical accuracy, he never appears to
feel it a restraint to his muse: his fancy is always lively, his
imagination has free scope even when his thoughts are fixed in the
abstrusest theories, and engaged in the most subtle argumentation.[474]
The great beauty of the poetry of Lucretius is its variety. One might
expect sublimity in the philosopher who penetrates the secrets of the
natural world, and discloses to the eye of man the hidden causes of its
wonderful phenomena. His object was a lofty one; for, although the
irrational absurdities of the national creed drove him into the opposite
evils of skepticism and unbelief, his aim was to set the intellect free
from the trammels of superstition. But besides grandeur and sublimity we
find the totally different poetical qualities of softness and
tenderness. Rome had long known nothing but war, and was now rent by
that worst and most demoralizing kind of war, civil dissension.
Lucretius yearned for peace; and his prayer, that the fabled goddess of
all that is beautiful in nature would heal the wounds which discord had
made, is distinguished by tenderness and pathos even more than by
sublimity. The whole passage is superior to the poetry of Ovid in force,
although inferior in facility. His versification is not so smooth and
harmonious as that of Virgil, who flourished in a period when the
language had attained a higher degree of perfection, and the Roman ear
was more educated, and therefore more delicately attuned, but it is
never harsh and rugged, and always falls upon the ear with a swelling
and sonorous melody. Virgil appreciated his excellence, and imitated not
only single expressions, but almost entire verses and passages.[475]
As an example of sublimity, few passages can equal that in which he
describes the prostration of human intellect under the grievous
superstition, the dauntless purpose of Epicurus to free men from her
oppressive rule, and to enable him to burst open the portals of Nature’s
treasure-house, and thus gain a victory which will place him on an
equality with the inhabitants of heaven:—
Humana ante oculos fede quom vita jaceret
In terris, oppressa gravi sub Religione,
Quæ caput a cœli regionibus ostendebat,
Horribili super aspectu mortalibus instans;
Primum Graius homo mortales tendere contra
Est oculos ausus, primusque obsistere contra;
Quem neque fama deûm nec fulmina nec minitanti
Murmure compressit cœlum, sed eo magis acrem
Irritât animi virtutem, effringere ut arcta
Naturæ primus portarum claustra cupiret.
Ergo vivida vis animi pervicit et extra
Processit longe flammantia mœnia mondi,
Atque omne immensum peragravit mente animoque;
Unde refert nobis victor, quid possit oriri,
Quid nequeat; finita potestas denique quoique
Quanam sit ratione, atque alte terminus hærens.
Quare Religio, pedibus subjecta, vicissim
Obteritur; nos exæquat victoria cœlo.
Lib. i. 63.
The idea which the poet here presents to the mind of his readers is of
the same kind with that which pervades the writings of the Greek
tragedians: it is that of the limited energies of mortals resolutely
struggling with a superior and almost irresistible power.
The thrilling narrative of the plague at Athens, with all its physical
and moral horrors, is one of the most heart-rending specimens of
descriptive poetry. The stern rejection of all fear of death, though
based upon a denial of the immortality of the soul, is a noble burst of
poetical as well as philosophical enthusiasm; and the fifth book
displays that perfect finish and accomplished grace which characterizes
all the best Roman poets. Amongst the most affecting passages may be
enumerated those which describe the early sorrows of the human race, and
the grief of the bereaved animal whose young one has been slain in
sacrifice.[476] Two other fine passages are the philosophical
explanation of Tartarus, and the panoramic view of the tempest of human
desires, seen from the rocky heights of philosophy—a glorious
descriptive piece which has been imitated by Lord Bacon.
The following lines show how beautifully the poet has caught the spirit
and feeling of Greek fancy, and how capable the Latin language now was
of adequately expressing them:—
Aulide quo pacto Triviai virginis aram
Iphianassai turparunt sanguine fede
Ductores Danaum delectei, prima virorum
Cui simul infula, virgineos circumdata comtus,
Ex utraque pari malarum parte profusa est;
Et mœstum simul ante aras astare parentem
Sensit, et hunc propter ferrum celare ministros,
Aspectuque suo lacrumas effundere civeis;
Muta metu, terram genibus summissa, petebat:
Nec miseræ prodesse in tali tempore quibat,
Quod patrio princeps donarat nomine regem
Nam sublata virum manibus, tremebundaque, ad aras
Deducta est; non ut, solenni more sacrorum
Perfecto, posset claro comitari hymenæo;
Sed, casta incerte, nubendi tempore in ipso,
Hostia concideret mactatu mœsta parentis,
Exitus ut classi felix faustusque daretur.
Tantum religio potuit suadere malorum!
By that Diana’s cruel altar flowed
With innocent and royal virgin’s blood:
Unhappy maid! with sacred ribands bound,
Religious pride! and holy garlands crowned;
To meet an undeserved, untimely fate,
Led by the Grecian chiefs in pomp and state;
She saw her father by, whose tears did flow
In streams—the only pity he could show.
She saw the crafty priest conceal the knife
From him, blessed and prepared against her life!
She saw her citizens, with weeping eyes,
Unwillingly attend the sacrifice.
Then, dumb with grief, her tears did pity crave,
But ’twas beyond her father’s power to save.
In vain did innocence, youth, and beauty plead;
In vain the first pledge of his nuptial bed;
She fell—even now grown ripe for bridal joy—
To bribe the gods, and buy a wind for Troy.
So died this innocent, this royal maid:
Such fiendish acts religion could persuade. _Creech._
It cannot be denied that there are in the poem of Lucretius many barren
wastes over which are scattered the rubbish and _débris_ of a false
philosophy; but even in these deserts the oases are numerous enough to
prevent exhaustion and fatigue. They recur too frequently to enumerate
them all. If the attempt were made, other tastes would still discover
fresh examples.
The following is, in a few words, the plan and structure of the
poem:—Its professed object is to emancipate mankind from the debasing
effects of superstition by an exposition of the leading tenets of the
Epicurean school. It is divided into six books. In the first, the poet
enunciates and copiously illustrates the grand axiom of his system of
the universe, together with the corollaries which necessarily arise from
it. “Nothing is created out of nothing.” He commences also the subject
of the atomic theory. In the second book he pursues the subject of
creation generally, and the various functions of animal life. The third
treats of the nature of the soil. The fourth contains the theory of
sensation, especially of sight; of the relation which thought bears to
matter; of the passions, and especially of the influence of love, both
physical and moral. The fifth book is devoted to the history of mankind.
The sixth explains the phenomena of the natural world, including those
of disease and death.
The following are the leading Epicurean doctrines imbodied in the
poem:—There are divine beings, but they are neither the
creators[477] nor the governors of the world.[478] They live in the
enjoyment of perfect happiness and repose, regardless of human
affairs, unaffected by man’s virtues and vices, happiness or misery.
Neither have they the power any more than the will to interfere in
the affairs of the world, for they cannot resist the eternal laws of
nature and destiny. Whilst, in deference to the innate sense which
revolts at the denial of a God, he acknowledges the existence of
divine beings, the proofs which he adduces as derived from his great
master are weak and unsatisfactory.[479] The corollary of this
disbelief in Divine Providence is practical atheism. The ideas which
man entertains of God are false, because they are the mere creations
of the imagination. Ignorant of the real causes which lead to
natural phenomena, he conjures up these as the machinery to account
for them.[480] The popular belief is groundless; and yet the poet
believes that if this system is overthrown there is nothing to
supply its place, and hence all worship, whether prayer or praise,
is grovelling superstition.[481] The only true piety consists in
calm and peaceful contemplation.[482]
To those who argue that unbelief leads to ungodliness, his answer is
that what man calls religion has led to the greatest crimes.[483] He is
not entirely destitute of the religious sentiment or the principle of
faith, for he deifies nature[484] and has a veneration for her laws; and
hence his infidelity must be viewed rather in the light of a
philosophical protest against the degrading results of heathen
superstition than a total rejection of the principle of religious faith.
It is here that Lucretius seems for awhile to leave the authority of
Epicurus; and with the inspiration of a poet, which is hardly consistent
with a total absence of veneration and faith, to forsake his cold and
heartless system. Although he asserts that the phenomena of nature are
the result of a combination of atoms, that these elementary particles
are self-existent and eternal, he seems to invest nature with a sort of
personality. The warm sensibility of the poet overcomes the cold logic
of the philosopher. Dissatisfied with the ungenial idea of an abstract
lifeless principle, he yearns for the maternal caresses of a being
endued with energies and faculties with which he can sympathize. He
therefore ascribes to nature an attribute which can only belong to an
intelligent agent having ruling power. Nay, he even goes farther than
this, and absolutely contradicts the dogmas of the Epicurean school.
Even the works of nature are represented as instinct with life.[485] The
sun is spoken of as a being who, by the warmth of his beams, vivifies
all things: the earth, from whose womb all things spring, fosters and
nurtures all her children. The very stars may possibly be living beings,
performing their stated motions in search of their proper
sustenance.[486] These are, doubtless, the fancies of the poet rather
than the grave and serious belief of the philosopher; but they prove how
false, hollow, and artificial is a system which pretends to account for
creation by natural causes, and how earnestly the human mind craves
after the comfort and support of a personal deity.
The denial of the immortality of the soul is inferred from the
destructibility of the material elements out of which it is composed. It
must perish immediately that it is deprived of the protection of the
body.[487] In accordance with this psychical theory, he accounts for the
difference of human tempers and characters. Character results from the
combination of the elementary principles:—a predominance of heat
produces the choleric disposition; that of wind produces timidity; that
of air a calm and equable temper.[488] But this natural constitution,
the strength of the will, acted upon by education, is able, to a certain
extent, to modify, though it cannot effect a complete change. Thus it is
that, although moral as well as physical phenomena are produced in
accordance with fixed laws, human ills result from unbridled passions,
and may be remedied by philosophy.
Although, if tried by a Christian standard, the Lucretian morality is by
no means pure,[489] yet even where he permits laxity he is not
insensible to the moral beauty, the happy and holy results of purity and
chastity.[490] Nor, notwithstanding the assertions of Cicero,[491] can
the charge of immorality or of a selfish love of impure pleasure be made
against Lucretius or Epicurus. The distinction which the latter drew
between lawful and unlawful pleasures was severe and uncompromising. The
former speaks of the hell which the wicked sensualist always carries
within his own breast[492]—of the satisfaction of true wisdom,[493] and
of a conscience void of offence.[494]
Again, Epicurus was a man of almost Christian gentleness. Stoical
grossness and contempt of refinement revolted him; the unamiable
severity of that sect was alien to his nature. He was thus driven to the
opposite extreme; and although he was careful to make pure intellectual
pleasure the _summum bonum_, his standard laid him open to objections
from his jealous adversaries. The zeal with which many distinguished
females devoted themselves to his system, and became his disciples
because his doctrines and character especially recommended themselves to
the female sex, made it easy for his enemies to stigmatize them as
_effeminate_, instead of praising them as _feminine_. With that
illiberality which refused to woman freedom of conduct and a liberal
education, his adversaries calumniated the characters of his pupils,
represented them as unchaste, and their instructor as licentious. Nor
did they hesitate even to support these accusations by forgeries.[495]
A careless reception of their calumnies without investigation, added to
the general, and perhaps wilful, misapprehension which prevailed among
the Romans in the days of Cicero, led to the misrepresentations which
are found in his writings. These have been handed down to after ages:
and thus the doctrines taught by Epicurus have been loaded with
undeserved obloquy.[496] There is, however, no doubt that Epicurism was
adopted by the Romans in a corrupt form, and that it became fashionable
because it was supposed to encourage indifferentism and sensuality. It
is probable, too, that the denial of immortality contributed much to the
depravation and distortion of his system. Nothing so surely demoralizes
as destroying the hopes of eternity. Man cannot commune with God, or
soar on high to spiritual things, unless he hopes to be spiritualized
and to see God as He is. Whatever the philosopher may teach as to the
true nature of happiness, man will set up his own corrupt standard,
which his passions and appetites lead him to prefer: he will act on the
principle “Let us eat and drink, for to-morrow we die.” Still it must be
confessed that the views of Epicurus respecting man’s duty to God were
disinterested—founded on ideas of the Divine perfections, not merely on
hopes of reward.[497] His views of sensual pleasures were in accordance
with his simple, frugal life, diametrically opposed to intemperance and
excess. He taught by example as well as by precept, that he who would be
happy must cultivate wisdom and justice, because virtue and happiness
are inseparable. He attached his disciples to him by affection rather
than by admiration; submitted to weakness and sickness with patient
resignation; and died with a heroism which no Stoic could have
surpassed.
Such was the master whom Lucretius followed, and the school to which he
belonged; and though the sternness of the Roman character breathed into
his protest against superstition a bolder spirit of defiance than that
of the placid and resigned Greek, his teaching was equally pure and
noble, and he would have proudly disdained to make philosophy a cloak
for voluptuous profligacy. Poets who surpassed him in gracefulness, and
who were fortunate enough to flourish when the Latin language had become
more plastic, paid due honour to his greatness. Virgil celebrates the
happiness of that man:—
—— qui potuit rerum cognoscere causas,
Atque metus omnes, et inexorabile fatum
Subjecit pedibus, strepitumque Acherontis avari.[498]
His muse is instinct with Lucretian spirit when he describes with such
graphic skill the murrain attacking the brute creation;[499] and Ovid
exclaims that the sublime strains of Lucretius shall never perish until
the day shall arrive when the world shall be given up to destruction.
CATULLUS (BORN B. C. 86.)
Contemporary with the great didactic poet, but nine years his junior in
age, flourished C. Valerius Catullus. He was a member of a good family,
residing on the Lago di Garda, in the neighbourhood of Verona,[500] and
his father had the honour of frequently receiving Cæsar as his
guest.[501] At an early age he went to Rome, probably for education, but
his warm temperament and strong passions plunged him into the licentious
excesses of the capital. During this period of his career, passed in the
indulgence of pleasure and gayety, and in the midst of a dissipated
society, he had no more serious occupation than the cultivation of his
literary tastes and talents. The elegant tenderness of his amatory
poetry made him a favourite with the fair sex, for its licentiousness
was not out of keeping with the sentiments and conversation prevalent in
the Roman fashionable world. It must not be supposed that the tone of
society amongst the higher classes was pure and moral, like that of
Cicero and his friends, or that it was not marked by the same licentious
freedom which polluted some even of their most graceful poems.
The poetry of Catullus was such as might be expected from the tenor of
his life. The excuse which he made for its character was not a valid
one;[502] for the line in Hadrian’s epitaph on Voconius could not
possibly be applied to him:—
Lascivus versu, mente pudicus eras.[503]
His mistress, whom he addresses under the feigned name of Lesbia, was
really named Clodia.[504] It has been said that she was the sister of
the infamous Clodius; but there are no grounds for the assertion.
A career of extravagance and debauchery terminated in ruin, and though
his fortune had been originally ample, his affairs became hopelessly
embarrassed; and in order to retrieve them by colonial plunder, he
accompanied Memmius, the friend of Lucretius, when he went as prætor to
Bythinia. Owing, however, to the grasping meanness of his patron his
expectations were disappointed. He returned home “with his purse full of
cobwebs.” Still he enjoyed the privilege of visiting those cities of
Greece and Asia which were the most celebrated for literature and the
fine arts.
When he went to Asia he visited the grave of a brother who had died in
the Troad, and who was buried on the Rhætian promontory; and a poem
which he addressed on the occasion to Hortalus, the dissipated son of
the orator Hortensius, as well as another dedicated to Manlius, bear
witness to the warmth of his fraternal affection. The former is a
beautiful and touching specimen of his elegiac style:—
Multas per gentes et multa per æquora vectus,
Adveni has miseras frater ad inferias.
Ut te postremo donarem munere mortis
Et mutum nequidquam alloquerer cinerem.
Quandoquidem fortuna mihi tete abstulit ipsum
Has miser indigne frater adempte mihi!
Nunc tamen interea prisco quæ more parentum
Tradita sub tristes munera ad inferias
Accipe fraterno multum manantia fletu
Atque in perpetuum frater ave atque vale!
On his return to Rome he resumed his old habits, and died in the prime
of life, probably B. C. 47, as that is the latest date to which allusion
is made in his writings.
His works consist of numerous short fugitive pieces of a lyrical
character; elegies, such as that already quoted; a secular hymn to
Diana; a poem, somewhat of a dithyrambic character, entitled Atys; and
the Epithalamium of Peleus and Thetis, a mythological poem in heroic
verse. His taste was evidently formed on a study of the Greek poets,
from whom he learnt not only his beautiful hendecasyllables, but also
their modes of thought and expression. He had skill and taste to adopt
the materials with which his vast erudition furnished him, and to
conceal his want of originality and inspiration. Some of his pieces are
translations from the Greek, as, for example, the elegy on the hair of
Berenice, which is taken from the Greek of Callimachus, and the
celebrated ode of Sappho.[505] He was one of the most popular of the
Roman poets—firstly, because he possessed those qualities which the
literary society of Rome most highly valued, namely, polish and
learning; and secondly, because, although he was an imitator, there is a
living reality about all that he wrote—a truly Roman nationality. He did
not merely disguise the inspiration of Greece in a Latin dress, but
invested Roman life, and thoughts, and social habits with the ideal of
Greek love and beauty. For these reasons his fame flourished as long as
Rome possessed a classical literature. Two eminent men only have
withheld their admiration—Horace in the golden age; Quintilian in the
period of the decline. The former disparages him as a lyrical poet; the
latter almost passes him over in silence. Horace was jealous of a rival
who was so nearly equal to himself: he could not bear the remotest
chance of his claim being disputed to be the musician of the Roman
lyre;[506] and he dishonestly declared that he first adapted Æolian
strains to the Roman lyre,[507] notwithstanding the Lesbian character
and hendecasyllabic metres of his predecessor. Quintilian could not
appreciate Catullus, because his own taste was too stiff and affected,
and spoilt by the rhetorical spirit of his age.
Catullus had a talent for satire, but his satire was not inspired by a
noble indignation at vice and wrong. It was the bitter resentment of a
vindictive spirit: his love and his hate were both purely selfish. His
language of love expresses the feelings of an impure voluptuary; his
language of scorn those of a disappointed one. He gratified his
irritable temper by attacking Cæsar most offensively; but the noble
Roman would not crush the insect which annoyed him; and although
Catullus insulted him personally by reading his lampoons in his
presence, not a change passed over his countenance: he would not stoop
to avenge himself: and the imperial clemency disarmed the anger of the
libeller. The strong prejudice of Niebuhr in favour of Roman antiquity
led him to pronounce Catullus a gigantic and extraordinary genius, equal
in every respect to the lyric poets of Greece previously to the time of
Sophocles; he believed him to be the greatest poet Rome ever possessed,
except, perhaps, some few of the early ones; but that great man also
thought that Virgil had mistaken his vocation in becoming an epic
instead of a lyric poet.[508] Catullus certainly possessed great
excellences and talents of the most alluring and captivating kind. No
genius ever displayed itself under a greater variety of aspects. He has
the playfulness and the petulance of a girl, the vivacity and simplicity
of a child. He has never been surpassed in gracefulness, melody, and
tenderness. No one, unless he possessed the coolness and self-command of
a Cæsar, could have avoided wincing under the sharp attacks of his wit:
he had passion and vehemence, but he had not the grandeur and sublimity
either of Lucretius or Virgil.
Although the peculiar characteristics of his poetry are chiefly to be
found in his lyric and elegiac poems, there are in his longer pieces,
which are less known and less admired, passages of singular sweetness
and beauty. He had not sufficient grasp and comprehensiveness of mind to
conduct an epic poem. His knowledge of human nature, confined as it was
to one of its phases—the development of the softer affections—did not
admit of sufficient variety for so vast a work. His intellectual taste,
like his moral principles, was too ill-regulated to construct a
well-digested plan, necessary to the perfection of an epic poem; but
wherever ingenuity and liveliness in description, or pathos in moving
the affections, are required, the poetry of Catullus does not yield to
that of Ovid or of Virgil.
The poem, entitled the marriage of Peleus and Thetis, bears some slight
resemblance to an heroic poem. Its subject is heroic, for it imbodies a
legend of the heroic age. The characters of mythology play a part in it,
similar to that which they support in the poems of Homer or Virgil. But
it is unconnected and deficient in unity; and the plan is far too
extensive for the dimensions by which it is circumscribed. Nevertheless,
with all these faults, it is pleasing on account of the luxuriance of
its fancy and the brilliancy of its genius. The most beautiful passage,
perhaps, is the episode relating the story of Theseus and Ariadne, which
is introduced into the main body of the poem as being woven and
embroidered on the hangings of the palace of Holeus. The following
verses are taken from this episode,[509] and form part of the complaint
of Ariadne for the perfidious desertion of Theseus:—
Siccine discedens, neglecto numine Divûm,
Immemor ah! devota domum perjuria portas?
Nullane res potuit crudelis flectere mentis
Consilium? tibi nulla fuit clementia præsto,
Immite ut nostri vellet mitescere pectus?
At non hæc quondam nobis promissa dedisti
Voce; mihi non hoc miseræ sperare jubebas;
Sed connubia læta, sed optatos hymenæos;
Quæ cuncta aërii discerpunt irrita venti.
Jam jam nulla viro juranti fœmina credat,
Nulla viri speret sermones esse fideles;
Qui, dum aliquid cupiens animus prægestit apisci,
Nil metuunt jurare, nihil promittere parcunt;
Sed simul ac cupidæ mentis satiata libido est,
Dicta nihil metuere, nihil perjuria curant.
Certe ego te in medio versantem turbine leti
Eripui, et potius germanum amittere crevi,
Quam tibi fallaci supremo in tempore deessem.
Pro quo dilaceranda feris dabor, alitibusque
Præda, neque injecta tumulabor mortua terra.
Quænam te genuit sola sub rupe leæna?
Quod mare conceptum spumantibus exspuit undis?
Quæ Syrtis, quæ Scylla vorax, quæ vasta Charybdis,
Talia qui reddis pro dulci præmia vitæ?
Si tibi non cordi fuerant connubia nostra,
Sæva quod horrebas prisci præcepta parentis;
Attamen in vestras potuisti ducere sedes,
Quæ tibi jucundo famularer serva labore,
Candida permulcens liquidis vestigia lymphis,
Purpureave tuum consternens veste cubile.
Sed quid ego ignaris nequicquam conqueror auris,
Externata malo? quæ nullis sensibus auctæ
Nec missas audire queunt, nec reddere voces.—132–161.
And couldst thou, Theseus, from her native land
Thy Ariadne bring, then cruel so
Desert thy victim on a lonely strand?
And didst thou, perjured, dare to Athens go,
Nor dread the weight of Heaven’s avenging blow?
Could naught thy heart with sacred pity touch?
Naught make thy soul the baleful plot forego
’Gainst her that loved thee? Ah! not once were such
The vows, the hopes, thy smooth professions did avouch!
Then all was truth, then did thy honeyed tongue
Of wedded faith the flattering fable weave.
All, all unto the winds of heaven are flung!
Henceforth let never listening maid believe
Protesting man. When their false hearts conceive
The selfish wish, to all but pleasure blind,
No words they spare, no oaths unuttered leave;
But when possession cloys their pampered mind,
No care have they for oaths, no words their honour bind.
For this, then, I from instant death did cover
Thy faithless bosom; and for this preferred,
Even to a brother’s blood, a perjured lover;
Now to be torn by savage beast and bird,
With no due form, no decent rite, interred!
What foaming sea, what savage of the night,
In murky den thy monstrous birth conferred?
What whirlpool guides and gave thee to the light,
The welcome boon of life thus basely to requite?
What though thy royal father’s stern command
The bond of marriage to our lot forbade,
Oh! safely still into thy native land
I might have gone thy happy serving maid;
There gladly washed thy snowy feet or laid
Upon thy blissful bed the purple vest.
Ah, vain appeal! upon the winds conveyed,
The heedless winds, that hear not my behest:
No words his ear can reach or penetrate his breast!
The writers of the Augustan age and their successors paid Catullus what
they considered the highest compliment, when they called him _learned_.
Criticism referred everything to the Greek standard. The qualities which
they recognised by this epithet were those which they deemed most
valuable—more so even than originality and invention—an extensive
acquaintance with the materials of Greek story, an elaborate study of
the poets taken as models, a scientific appreciation of the cadences and
harmonies of Greek versification. They were grateful for the blessings
which they were conscious of having derived from mental cultivation; and
the highest praise which they could bestow was to confer upon a poet the
title of a learned and accomplished man.
This period, at which prose reached its zenith, could boast of other
poets, also, besides Lucretius and Catullus, whose merits were
considerable although they did not satisfy the fastidious taste of the
Augustan age. There flourished C. Licinius Calvus,[510] C. Helvius
Cinna, Valerius Cato, Valgius, Ticida, Furius Bibaculus, and Varro
Atacinus.
The first of these was a lively little man,[511] an orator as well as a
poet. His speeches were elaborately modelled after those of the Attic
orators; and had his poems displayed the same polish, they might have
satisfied Horace[512] and his contemporaries, and thus have been
preserved. As it is, the fragments which remain are so brief, that it is
impossible to say whether his merits were such as to justify Niebuhr in
placing him amongst the three greatest poets of his age. His poetry
resembled that of Catullus in spirit and morality. It was the
fashionable poetry of the day, and consisted of tender elegy, playful
and sentimental epigram, licentious love-songs, and bitter personality.
Cinna,[513] besides smaller poems, was the author of an epic, entitled
Smyrna; the subject is unknown: but Catullus, who was his intimate
friend, praises it highly, and Virgil modestly declares that, as
compared with Varius and Cinna, he himself appears a goose amongst
swans.[514] Valerius Cato was a grammarian as well as a poet. His two
principal poems were entitled Lydia and Diana;[515] and a fragmentary
poem, to which the title _Diræ_ or _Curses_[516] has been given, has
been generally attributed to him on the grounds that the author pours
forth his woes to a mistress named Lydia. The argument of the piece is
as follows:—The estate of Cato, like that of Virgil, was confiscated and
made a military colony; and smarting under a sense of wrong, he
imprecates curses on his lost home. Then the theme changes: his heart
softens; and in sad accents he bewails his separation from his mistress,
and from all his rural pleasures. This poem was formerly believed to be
the work of Virgil, but neither the language nor the poetry can be
compared to those of the Mantuan bard; nor do the sentiments resemble
the calmness and resignation with which he bears his misfortunes. J.
Scaliger, impressed with these considerations, transferred the
authorship from Virgil to Cato. But there are no sufficient grounds for
determining the question.
Respecting C. Valgius Rufus all is doubt and obscurity. The grammarians
quote from him; Pliny[517] speaks of his learning; Horace[518] refers to
him as an elegiac poet, and expresses the greatest confidence in his
critical taste and judgment. Ticida is mentioned by Suetonius as bearing
testimony to the merits of Valerius Cato. Bibaculus was a bitter
satirist, who spared not the feelings of his friend Cato when reduced
from affluence to poverty;[519] who himself had the vanity to attempt an
epic poem, and by his vulgar taste provoked the severe criticism of
Horace.[520]
P. Terentius Varro Atacinus was a contemporary of Varro Reatinus; and
for this reason his works have often been confounded with those of the
latter. He was born B. C. 82,[521] near the river Atax in Gaul, and
hence he was surnamed Atacinus, in order to distinguish him from his
learned namesake, who derived his appellation from property which he
possessed at Reati. Very few fragments of his works are extant,[522]
although his poetry was of such a character that Virgil deemed some of
his lines worthy of plagiarizing.[523] His principal work, which is not
spoken of in very high terms by Quintilian,[524] is a translation of the
Argonautica of Apollonius Rhodius. Besides this, he wrote two
geographical poems, namely, the _Chorographia_ and _Libri Navales_, a
heroic poem entitled _Bellum Sequanicum_, on one of the Gallic campaigns
of J. Cæsar, and also some elegies, epigrams, and saturæ.[525]
A fragment of the Chorographia is preserved by Meyer,[526] the
concluding lines of which were evidently imitated by Virgil, and also
the following severe epigram on Licinius:—
Marmoreo Licinus tumulo jacet, at Cato nullo,
Pompeius parvo; Quis putet esse Deos?
Saxa premunt Licinum, levat altum fama Catonem,
Pompeium tituli. Credimus esse Deos.