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.

C. SALLUSTIUS CRISPUS (BORN B. C. 85.)

C. Sallustius Crispus was fifteen years junior to Cæsar: he was born at

Amiternum[941] in the territory of the Sabines, A. U. C. 669, B. C. 85.

He was a member of a plebeian family; but, having served the offices of

tribune and quæstor, attained senatorial rank. In A. U. C. 704, he was

expelled from the senate[942] by the censors Ap. Claudius Pulcher and L.

Calpurnius Piso.[943] It is said that, although he was “a most severe

censurer of the licentiousness of others,”[944] he was a profligate man

himself, and that the scandal of an intrigue with Fausta, the daughter

of Sulla and the wife of Milo, was the cause of his degradation.

Through the influence of Cæsar, whose party he espoused, he was restored

to his rank, and subsequently became prætor. He accompanied his patron

in the African war, and was made governor of Numidia. Whilst in that

capacity, he accumulated by rapacity and extortion enormous wealth,[945]

which he lavished on expensive but tasteful luxury. The gardens on the

Quirinal which bore his name were celebrated for their beauty; and

beneath their alleys, and porticoes, surrounded by the choicest works of

art, he avoided the tumultuous scenes of civil strife which ushered in

the empire, and devoted his retirement to composing the historical

records which survived him. His death took place B. C. 35.

Those who have wished to defend the character of Sallust from the

charges of immorality, to which allusion has been made, have attributed

them to the groundless calumnies of Lenæus, a freedman of Cæsar’s great

rival Pompey. It is not improbable that his faults may have been

exaggerated by the malevolence of party-spirit in those factious times;

but there are no sentiments in his works which can constitute a defence

of him. If an historian is distinguished by a high moral tone of

feeling, this quality cannot but show itself in his writings without

intention or design. But in Sallust there is always an affectation and

pretence of morality without the reality. His philosophical reflections

at the commencement of the Jugurthine and Catilinarian wars are empty,

cold, and heartless. There is a display of commonplace sentiment, and an

expressed admiration of the old Roman virtue of bygone days, but no

appearance of sincerity. The language may be pointed enough to produce

an effect upon the ear, but the sentiments always fail to probe the

recesses of the heart. Sallust lived in an immoral and corrupt age; and

though, perhaps, he was not amongst the worst of his contemporaries, he

had not sufficient strength of principle to resist the force of example

and temptation.

It is almost certain that, as a provincial governor, Sallust was not

more unscrupulous than others of his class; but wealth such as he

possessed could not have been acquired except by extortion and

maladministration. As a politician, he was equally unsatisfactory: he

was a mere partisan of Cæsar, and therefore, a strenuous opponent of the

higher classes as supporters of Pompey; but he was not an honest

champion of popular rights, nor was he capable of understanding the

meaning of patriotism. If, however, we make some allowance for the

political bias of Sallust, which is evident throughout his works, his

histories have not only the charms of the historical romance, but are

also valuable political studies. His characters are vigorously and

naturally drawn, as though he not only personally knew them, but

accurately understood them. The more his histories are read the more

will it be discovered that he always writes with an object. He eschews

the very idea of a mere dry chronicle of facts, and uses his facts as

the means of enforcing a great political lesson.

For this reason, like Thucydides, whom he evidently took as his model,

not only in style but in the use of his materials, his speeches are his

own compositions. Even when he had an opportunity, as in the case of

Cæsar’s and Cato’s speeches in the “_Bellum Catilinarium_,” he contented

himself with giving the substance of them, clothed it in his own

language, and imbodied in them his own sentiments. According to his own

statement, there is one exception to his practice in this respect. He

asserts that the speech of Memmius, the tribune of the people,[946] is

the very one which he delivered. If this be really the case, it is a

most valuable example of the style in which a popular leader addressed

his audience. But it is to be feared that this is not strictly and

literally true: the style is indeed somewhat different from that of the

other speeches, but does not exhibit freedom enough to assure us that he

has actually reported it as delivered. It may be only a specimen of that

consummate skill which constitutes the principal charm of Sallust’s

manner, and made him a complete master of composition. Sallust never

attempted anything more than detached portions of Roman history. “I have

determined,” he says, “to write only select portions of Roman history,”

(carptim perscribere.[947]) He himself gives an explanation of his

motives for so doing,[948] when he complains of the manner in which this

department of literature was neglected. Wherever a satisfactory account

existed, he thought it unnecessary to travel over the same ground a

second time.

His first work, reckoning according to the chronological order of

events, is the Jugurthine war, which commenced B. C. 111, and ended

B. C. 106. The next period, comprehending the social war and the war of

Sulla, extending as far as the consulship of M. Æmilius Lepidus, B. C.

78, had already been related by Sisenna, a friend of Cicero.[949] Where

Sisenna left off, the Histories of Sallust (Historiarum Libri V.) began,

and continued the narrative without interruption until the prætorship of

Cicero.[950] This work is unfortunately lost, with the exception of some

letters and speeches, and a few fragments relating to the war of

Spartacus. Niebuhr[951] considers this one of the most deplorable losses

in Roman literature; less, however, on account of its historical

importance, than as a perfect model of historical composition. A break

of two years ensues, and then follows the “_Bellum Catilinarium_,” or

history of the Catilinarian conspiracy in the year of Cicero’s

consulship.[952]

This completes the list of those works which are undoubtedly genuine. No

satisfactory opinion has been arrived at respecting the authorship of

the two letters to Cæsar, “_De Republicâ Ordinandâ_;” and it is now

unhesitatingly admitted, that the declamation against Cicero, must have

been, as well as its counterpart, the declamation against Sallust, the

work of some rhetorical writer of a later period. The subject of this

imaginary disputation was naturally suggested by the known fact that

Sallust was no friend to Cicero.

It has already been stated that Sallust was a bitter opponent of the

principles and policy of the aristocratic party; but it must be

carefully explained what is meant by that assertion. The object of his

hatred was not the old patrician blood of Rome, but the new aristocracy,

which had of late years been rapidly rising up and displacing it.

This new nobility was utterly corrupt; and their corruption was

encouraged by the venality of the masses, whose poverty and destitution

tempted them to be the tools of unscrupulous ambition. Everything at

Rome, as Juvenal said in later times, had its price. Sallust adds to the

severity of his strictures upon his countrymen by the force of contrast;

he represents even Jugurtha as asserting that the republic itself might

be bought, if a purchaser could be found; and paints the barbarian as

more honest and upright than his conquerors. The ruined and abandoned

associates of Catiline represented a numerous class among the younger

members of the upper classes, who, by lives devoted to lawless

pleasures, had become ruined, reckless, and demoralized. They were ripe

for revolution, because they had nothing to lose: they could not gratify

their vicious propensities without wealth; they had no principles or

scruples as to the means of acquiring it; their best prospects were in

anarchy, proscription, and confiscation. The debauched and ruined

nobleman, and the vulgar profligate of the lowest class, forgot their

mutual differences, and thus a combination was formed, the members of

which were the sink and outscourings of society.

Such degenerate profligacy is an ample justification of Sallust’s hatred

towards the new aristocracy; and the object of all his works evidently

was to place that party in the unfavourable light which it deserved. In

the Jugurthine war he describes the unworthiness of the foreign policy

of Rome under its maladministration. His “Histories,” according to the

statement of Niebuhr, describe the popular resistance to the

revolutionary policy of Sulla, the profligate leader of the same party;

and in the “Catilinarian war” he paints in vivid colours the depravity

of that order of society, who, bankrupt in fortune and dead to all

honourable feelings, still plumed themselves on their rank and

exclusiveness. Nevertheless, notwithstanding the truthfulness of the

picture which Sallust draws, selfishness and not patriotism was the

mainspring of his politics; and it is scarcely possible to avoid seeing

that he is anxious to set himself off to the best advantage. His

hollowness is that of a vain and conceited man, who measures himself by

too high a standard, and appears chagrined and disappointed that others

do not estimate him as highly as he does himself.

These are the blots in his character as a man and a citizen; but we must

not forget his real merits as an historian. To him must be conceded the

praise of having first conceived the notion of a history in the true

sense of the term. He saw the lamentable defects in the abortive

attempts made by his predecessors;[953] and the model was a good one

which he left for his successors to follow. It is scarcely too much to

suppose, that if it had not been for Sallust, Livy might not have been

led to conceive his vast and comprehensive plan. He was the first Roman

historian, and the guide to future historians. Again, his style,

although almost ostentatiously elaborate and artificial, and not without

affectation, is, upon the whole, pleasing, and almost always

transparently clear. The caution of Quintilian respecting his well-known

brevity (“vitanda est illa Sallustiana brevitas”[954]) is well-timed in

his work, as being addressed to orators, for public speaking necessarily

requires a more diffuse style; and it is probable that Quintilian would

not appreciate its merits, because he himself was a rhetorician, and his

taste was formed in a rhetorical age. Seneca, for the same reasons,

finds similar faults, not only with Sallust, but with the favourite

literature of his day. “When Sallust flourished, abrupt sentences,

unexpected cadences, obscure expressions, were considered signs of a

cultivated taste.”[955] But the brevity of Sallust does not produce the

effect of harsh or disagreeable abruptness, whilst it keeps the

attention awake, and impresses the facts upon the memory. How powerful

and suggestive, for example, how abundant in material for thought, are

those few words in which he describes Pompey as “oris probi, animo

inverecundo!” There is, however, this difference between the brevity of

Sallust and that of his supposed model, Thucydides. That of the Greek

historian was natural and involuntary; that of the Roman intentional and

the result of imitation. Thucydides thought more quickly than he could

write: his closely-packed ideas and condensed constructions, therefore,

constitute a species of shorthand, by which alone he could keep pace

with the rapidity of his intellect. He is, therefore, always vigorous

and suggestive; and the necessities of the case make the reader readily

pardon the difficulties of his style.

The brevity of Thucydides is the result of condensation; that of Sallust

is elliptical expression. He gives a hint and the reader must supply the

rest; whilst Thucydides only expects his readers to unfold and develop

ideas which already existed in a concentrated form. Sallust requires

addition; Thucydides dilution and expansion. Neither does the brevity of

Sallust resemble that of Cæsar or of Tacitus: the former was

straight-forward and business-like, requiring neither addition nor

expansion, because he wished to make his statements as clear as they

were capable of being expressed, without ornament or exaggeration. He

was brief, because he never wished to say more than was absolutely

necessary, and therefore his brevity is the very cause of perspicuity.

The mind of Tacitus was, from its thoughtfulness and philosophical

character, the very counterpart of that of Thucydides: his brevity was

therefore natural and the result of the same causes.

There is one point of view in which Sallust is invaluable as an

historian. He had always an object to which he wished all his facts to

converge: he brought forward his facts as illustrations and developments

of principles. He analyzed and exposed the motives of parties, and the

secret springs which actuated the conduct of individuals, and laid bare

the inner life of those great actors on the public stage, in the

interesting historical scenes which he undertakes to describe.

TROGUS POMPEIUS.

Trogus Pompeius was a voluminous historian of the Augustan age, whose

father was private secretary to Julius Cæsar.[956] His work was of such

vast extent, and embraced so great a variety of subjects, that it has

even been termed by Justin, who published a large collection of extracts

from it, _an Universal History_. Its title, however, “_Historiæ

Philippicæ_,” proves the writer’s primary object was the history of the

Macedonian monarchy, together with the kingdoms which arose out of it at

the death of Alexander; and that all the rest of the information

contained in it were digressions into which he was naturally led, and

episodes incidentally introduced into the main stream of the history.

For the materials contained in his work, which consisted of forty-four

books, he was indebted to the Greek historians, but especially to

Theopompus of Chios,[957] from whose principal work he derived the

title, “_Philippica_,” as well as the practice of branching out into

long and frequent digressions. It is easy to imagine over how vast an

area a history of the Macedonian empire was capable of extending. The

subjugation of the East by the conquests of Alexander naturally made a

rapid sketch of the Assyrian, Median, and Persian empires, an

appropriate introduction to the work: the connexion of Persia with

Greece and Egypt furnished an opportunity of imbodying the records of

Greek history, and a description of Egypt and its inhabitants. Once

embarked in Greek history, the writer pursued it until it became

interwoven, through the interference of Philip, with the affairs of

Macedon. Alexander and his successors succeed: the campaigns of Pyrrhus

bring the Romans upon the stage; Carthage and Sicily for awhile occupy

the scene; and the main body of the work is completed by a sketch of the

gradual consolidation of that vast empire, of which subjugated Macedonia

became a province. Nor is this all—other less important nations, states,

and cities are ever and anon introduced, according as they act their

part in the great drama of history.

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