personal efforts; stopping those who fled, keeping others in their ranks,
and seizing them by their throat turned them towards the enemy; although
numbers were so terrified, that an eagle-bearer [83], thus stopped, made
a thrust at him with (40) the spear-head; and another, upon a similar
occasion, left the standard in his hand.
LXIII. The following instances of his resolution are equally, and even
more remarkable. After the battle of Pharsalia, having sent his troops
before him into Asia, as he was passing the straits of the Hellespont in
a ferry-boat, he met with Lucius Cassius, one of the opposite party, with
ten ships of war; and so far from endeavouring to escape, he went
alongside his ship, and calling upon him to surrender, Cassius humbly
gave him his submission.
LXIV. At Alexandria, in the attack of a bridge, being forced by a sudden
sally of the enemy into a boat, and several others hurrying in with him,
he leaped into the sea, and saved himself by swimming to the next ship,
which lay at the distance of two hundred paces; holding up his left hand
out of the water, for fear of wetting some papers which he held in it;
and pulling his general’s cloak after him with his teeth, lest it should
fall into the hands of the enemy.
LXV. He never valued a soldier for his moral conduct or his means, but
for his courage only; and treated his troops with a mixture of severity
and indulgence; for he did not always keep a strict hand over them, but
only when the enemy was near. Then indeed he was so strict a
disciplinarian, that he would give no notice of a march or a battle until
the moment of action, in order that the troops might hold themselves in
readiness for any sudden movement; and he would frequently draw them out
of the camp without any necessity for it, especially in rainy weather,
and upon holy-days. Sometimes, giving them orders not to lose sight of
him, he would suddenly depart by day or by night, and lengthen the
marches in order to tire them out, as they followed him at a distance.
LXVI. When at any time his troops were dispirited by reports of the
great force of the enemy, he rallied their courage; not by denying the
truth of what was said, or by diminishing the facts, but, on the
contrary, by exaggerating every particular. (41) Accordingly, when his
troops were in great alarm at the expected arrival of king Juba, he
called them together, and said, “I have to inform you that in a very few
days the king will be here, with ten legions, thirty thousand horse, a
hundred thousand light-armed foot, and three hundred elephants. Let none
of you, therefore, presume to make further enquiry, or indulge in
conjectures, but take my word for what I tell you, which I have from
undoubted intelligence; otherwise I shall put them aboard an old crazy
vessel, and leave them exposed to the mercy of the winds, to be
transported to some other country.”
LXVII. He neither noticed all their transgressions, nor punished them
according to strict rule. But for deserters and mutineers he made the
most diligent enquiry, and their punishment was most severe: other
delinquencies he would connive at. Sometimes, after a great battle
ending in victory, he would grant them a relaxation from all kinds of
duty, and leave them to revel at pleasure; being used to boast, “that his
soldiers fought nothing the worse for being well oiled.” In his
speeches, he never addressed them by the title of “Soldiers,” but by the
kinder phrase of “Fellow-soldiers;” and kept them in such splendid order,
that their arms were ornamented with silver and gold, not merely for
parade, but to render the soldiers more resolute to save them in battle,
and fearful of losing them. He loved his troops to such a degree, that
when he heard of the defeat of those under Titurius, he neither cut his
hair nor shaved his beard, until he had revenged it upon the enemy; by
which means he engaged their devoted affection, and raised their valour
to the highest pitch.
LXVIII. Upon his entering on the civil war, the centurions of every
legion offered, each of them, to maintain a horseman at his own expense,
and the whole army agreed to serve gratis, without either corn or pay;
those amongst them who were rich, charging themselves with the
maintenance of the poor. No one of them, during the whole course of the
war, deserted to the enemy; and many of those who were made prisoners,
though they were offered their lives, upon condition of bearing arms
against him, refused to accept the terms. They endured want, and other
hardships, not only (42) when they were besieged themselves, but when
they besieged others, to such a degree, that Pompey, when blocked up in
the neighbourhood of Dyrrachium, upon seeing a sort of bread made of an
herb, which they lived upon, said, “I have to do with wild beasts,” and
ordered it immediately to be taken away; because, if his troops should
see it, their spirit might be broken by perceiving the endurance and
determined resolution of the enemy. With what bravery they fought, one
instance affords sufficient proof; which is, that after an unsuccessful
engagement at Dyrrachium, they called for punishment; insomuch that their
general found it more necessary to comfort than to punish them. In other
battles, in different quarters, they defeated with ease immense armies of
the enemy, although they were much inferior to them in number. In short,
one cohort of the sixth legion held out a fort against four legions
belonging to Pompey, during several hours; being almost every one of them
wounded by the vast number of arrows discharged against them, and of
which there were found within the ramparts a hundred and thirty thousand.
This is no way surprising, when we consider the conduct of some
individuals amongst them; such as that of Cassius Scaeva, a centurion, or
Caius Acilius, a common soldier, not to speak of others. Scaeva, after
having an eye struck out, being run through the thigh and the shoulder,
and having his shield pierced in an hundred and twenty places, maintained
obstinately the guard of the gate of a fort, with the command of which he
was intrusted. Acilius, in the sea-fight at Marseilles, having seized a
ship of the enemy’s with his right hand, and that being cut off, in
imitation of that memorable instance of resolution in Cynaegirus amongst
the Greeks, boarded the enemy’s ship, bearing down all before him with
the boss of his shield.
LXIX. They never once mutinied during all the ten years of the Gallic
war, but were sometimes refractory in the course of the civil war.
However, they always returned quickly to their duty, and that not through
the indulgence, but in submission to the authority, of their general; for
he never yielded to them when they were insubordinate, but constantly
resisted their demands. He disbanded the whole ninth legion with
ignominy at Placentia, although Pompey was still in arms, and would (43)
not receive them again into his service, until they had not only made
repeated and humble entreaties, but until the ringleaders in the mutiny
were punished.
LXX. When the soldiers of the tenth legion at Rome demanded their
discharge and rewards for their service, with violent threats and no
small danger to the city, although the war was then raging in Africa, he
did not hesitate, contrary to the advice of his friends, to meet the
legion, and disband it. But addressing them by the title of “Quirites,”
instead of “Soldiers,” he by this single word so thoroughly brought them
round and changed their determination, that they immediately cried out,
they were his “soldiers,” and followed him to Africa, although he had
refused their service. He nevertheless punished the most mutinous among
them, with the loss of a third of their share in the plunder, and the
land destined for them.
LXXI. In the service of his clients, while yet a young man, he evinced
great zeal and fidelity. He defended the cause of a noble youth,
Masintha, against king Hiempsal, so strenuously, that in a scuffle which
took place upon the occasion, he seized by the beard the son of king
Juba; and upon Masintha’s being declared tributary to Hiempsal, while the
friends of the adverse party were violently carrying him off, he
immediately rescued him by force, kept him concealed in his house a long
time, and when, at the expiration of his praetorship, he went to Spain,
he took him away in his litter, in the midst of his lictors bearing the
fasces, and others who had come to attend and take leave of him.
LXXII. He always treated his friends with such kindness and good-nature,
that when Caius Oppius, in travelling with him through a forest, was
suddenly taken ill, he resigned to him the only place there was to
shelter them at night, and lay upon the ground in the open air. When he
had placed himself at the head of affairs, he advanced some of his
faithful adherents, though of mean extraction, to the highest offices;
and when he was censured for this partiality, he openly said, “Had I been
assisted by robbers and cut-throats in the defence of my honour, I should
have made them the same recompense.”
(44) LXXIII. The resentment he entertained against any one was never so
implacable that he did not very willingly renounce it when opportunity
offered. Although Caius Memmius had published some extremely virulent
speeches against him, and he had answered him with equal acrimony, yet he
afterwards assisted him with his vote and interest, when he stood
candidate for the consulship. When C. Calvus, after publishing some
scandalous epigrams upon him, endeavoured to effect a reconciliation by
the intercession of friends, he wrote to him, of his own accord, the
first letter. And when Valerius Catullus, who had, as he himself
observed, fixed such a stain upon his character in his verses upon
Mamurra as never could be obliterated, he begged his pardon, invited him
to supper the same day; and continued to take up his lodging with his
father occasionally, as he had been accustomed to do.
LXXIV. His temper was also naturally averse to severity in retaliation.
After he had captured the pirates, by whom he had been taken, having
sworn that he would crucify them, he did so indeed; but he first ordered
their throats to be cut [84]. He could never bear the thought of doing
any harm to Cornelius Phagitas, who had dogged him in the night when he
was sick and a fugitive, with the design of carrying him to Sylla, and
from whose hands he had escaped with some difficulty by giving him a
bribe. Philemon, his amanuensis, who had promised his enemies to poison
him, he put to death without torture. When he was summoned as a witness
against Publicus Clodius, his wife Pompeia’s gallant, who was prosecuted
for the profanation of religious ceremonies, he declared he knew nothing
of the affair, although his mother Aurelia, and his sister Julia, gave
the court an exact and full account of the circumstances. And being
asked why then he had divorced his wife? “Because,” he said, “my family
should not only be free from guilt, but even from the suspicion of it.”
LXXV. Both in his administration and his conduct towards the vanquished
party in the civil war, he showed a wonderful moderation and clemency.
For while Pompey declared that he would consider those as enemies who did
not take arms in defence of the republic, he desired it to be understood,
that he (45) should regard those who remained neuter as his friends.
With regard to all those to whom he had, on Pompey’s recommendation,
given any command in the army, he left them at perfect liberty to go over
to him, if they pleased. When some proposals were made at Ileria [85]
for a surrender, which gave rise to a free communication between the two
camps, and Afranius and Petreius, upon a sudden change of resolution, had
put to the sword all Caesar’s men who were found in the camp, he scorned
to imitate the base treachery which they had practised against himself.
On the field of Pharsalia, he called out to the soldiers “to spare their
fellow-citizens,” and afterwards gave permission to every man in his army
to save an enemy. None of them, so far as appears, lost their lives but
in battle, excepting only Afranius, Faustus, and young Lucius Caesar; and
it is thought that even they were put to death without his consent.
Afranius and Faustus had borne arms against him, after obtaining their
pardon; and Lucius Caesar had not only in the most cruel manner destroyed
with fire and sword his freed-men and slaves, but cut to pieces the wild
beasts which he had prepared for the entertainment of the people. And
finally, a little before his death, he permitted all whom he had not
before pardoned, to return into Italy, and to bear offices both civil and
military. He even replaced the statues of Sylla and Pompey, which had
been thrown down by the populace. And after this, whatever was devised
or uttered, he chose rather to check than to punish it. Accordingly,
having detected certain conspiracies and nocturnal assemblies, he went no
farther than to intimate by a proclamation that he knew of them; and as
to those who indulged themselves in the liberty of reflecting severely
upon him, he only warned them in a public speech not to persist in their
offence. He bore with great moderation a virulent libel written against
him by Aulus Caecinna, and the abusive lampoons of Pitholaus, most highly
reflecting on his reputation.
LXXVI. His other words and actions, however, so far outweigh all his
good qualities, that it is thought he abused his power, and was justly
cut off. For he not only obtained excessive honours, such as the
consulship every year, the dictatorship for life, and the censorship, but
also the title of emperor [86], (46) and the surname of FATHER OF HIS
COUNTRY [87], besides having his statue amongst the kings [88], and a
lofty couch in the theatre. He even suffered some honours to be decreed
to him, which were unbefitting the most exalted of mankind; such as a
gilded chair of state in the senate-house and on his tribunal, a
consecrated chariot, and banners in the Circensian procession, temples,
altars, statues among the gods, a bed of state in the temples, a priest,
and a college of priests dedicated to himself, like those of Pan; and
that one of the months should be called by his name. There were, indeed,
no honours which he did not either assume himself, or grant to others, at
his will and pleasure. In his third and fourth consulship, he used only
the title of the office, being content with the power of dictator, which
was conferred upon him with the consulship; and in both years he
substituted other consuls in his room, during the three last months; so
that in the intervals he held no assemblies of the people, for the
election of magistrates, excepting only tribunes and ediles of the
people; and appointed officers, under the name of praefects, instead of
the praetors, to administer the affairs of the city during his absence.
The office of consul having become vacant, by the sudden death of one of
the consuls the day before the calends of January [the 1st Jan.], he
conferred it on a person who requested it of him, for a few hours.
Assuming the same licence, and regardless of the customs of his country,
he appointed magistrates to hold their offices for terms of years. He
granted the insignia of the consular dignity to ten persons of pretorian
rank. He admitted into the senate some men who had been made free of the
city, and even natives of Gaul, who were semi-barbarians. (47) He
likewise appointed to the management of the mint, and the public revenue
of the state, some servants of his own household; and entrusted the
command of three legions, which he left at Alexandria, to an old catamite
of his, the son of his freed-man Rufinus.
LXXVII. He was guilty of the same extravagance in the language he
publicly used, as Titus Ampius informs us; according to whom he said,
“The republic is nothing but a name, without substance or reality. Sylla
was an ignorant fellow to abdicate the dictatorship. Men ought to
consider what is becoming when they talk with me, and look upon what I
say as a law.” To such a pitch of arrogance did he proceed, that when a
soothsayer announced to him the unfavourable omen, that the entrails of a
victim offered for sacrifice were without a heart, he said, “The entrails
will be more favourable when I please; and it ought not to be regarded as
a prodigy that a beast should be found wanting a heart.”
LXXVIII. But what brought upon him the greatest odium, and was thought
an unpardonable insult, was his receiving the whole body of the conscript
fathers sitting, before the temple of Venus Genitrix, when they waited
upon him with a number of decrees, conferring on him the highest
dignities. Some say that, on his attempting to rise, he was held down by
Cornelius Balbus; others, that he did not attempt to rise at all, but
frowned on Caius Trebatius, who suggested to him that he should stand up
to receive the senate. This behaviour appeared the more intolerable in
him, because, when one of the tribunes of the people, Pontius Aquila,
would not rise up to him, as he passed by the tribunes’ seat during his
triumph, he was so much offended, that he cried out, “Well then, you
tribune, Aquila, oust me from the government.” And for some days
afterwards, he never promised a favour to any person, without this
proviso, “if Pontus Aquila will give me leave.”
LXXIX. To this extraordinary mark of contempt for the senate, he added
another affront still more outrageous. For when, after the sacred rites
of the Latin festival, he was returning home, amidst the immoderate and
unusual acclamations (48) of the people, a man in the crowd put a laurel
crown, encircled with a white fillet [89], on one of his statues; upon
which, the tribunes of the people, Epidius Marullus, and Caesetius
Flavus, ordered the fillet to be removed from the crown, and the man to
be taken to prison. Caesar, being much concerned either that the idea of
royalty had been suggested to so little purpose, or, as was said, that he
was thus deprived of the merit of refusing it, reprimanded the tribunes
very severely, and dismissed them from their office. From that day
forward, he was never able to wipe off the scandal of affecting the name
of king, although he replied to the populace, when they saluted him by
that title, “I am Caesar, and no king.” And at the feast of the
Lupercalia [90], when the consul Antony placed a crown upon his head in
the rostra several times, he as often put it away, and sent it to the
Capitol for Jupiter, the Best and the Greatest. A report was very
current, that he had a design of withdrawing to Alexandria or Ilium,
whither he proposed to transfer the imperial power, to drain Italy by new
levies, and to leave the government of the city to be administered by his
friends. To this report it was added, that in the next meeting of the
senate, Lucius Cotta, one of the fifteen [91], would make a motion, that
as there was in the Sibylline books a prophecy, that the Parthians would
never be subdued but by a king, Caesar should have that title conferred
upon him.
LXXX. For this reason the conspirators precipitated the execution of
their design [92], that they might not be obliged to give their assent to
the proposal. Instead, therefore, of caballing any longer separately, in
small parties, they now united their counsels; the people themselves
being dissatisfied with the present state of affairs, both privately and
publicly (49) condemning the tyranny under which they lived, and calling
on patriots to assert their cause against the usurper. Upon the
admission of foreigners into the senate, a hand-bill was posted up in
these words: “A good deed! let no one shew a new senator the way to the
house.” These verses were likewise currently repeated:
The Gauls he dragged in triumph through the town,
Caesar has brought into the senate-house,
And changed their plaids [93] for the patrician gown.
Gallos Caesar in triumphum ducit: iidem in curiam
Galli braccas deposuerunt, latum clavum sumpserunt.
When Quintus Maximus, who had been his deputy in the consulship for the
last three months, entered the theatre, and the lictor, according to
custom, bid the people take notice who was coming, they all cried out,
“He is no consul.” After the removal of Caesetius and Marullus from
their office, they were found to have a great many votes at the next
election of consuls. Some one wrote under the statue of Lucius Brutus,
“Would you were now alive!” and under the statue of Caesar himself these
lines:
Because he drove from Rome the royal race,
Brutus was first made consul in their place.
This man, because he put the consuls down,
Has been rewarded with a royal crown.
Brutus, quia reges ejecit, consul primus factus est:
Hic, quia consules ejecit, rex postremo factus est.
About sixty persons were engaged in the conspiracy against him, of whom
Caius Cassius, and Marcus and Decimus Brutus were the chief. It was at
first debated amongst them, whether they should attack him in the Campus
Martius when he was taking the votes of the tribes, and some of them
should throw him off the bridge, whilst others should be ready to stab
him upon his fall; or else in the Via Sacra, or at the entrance of the
theatre. But after public notice had been given by proclamation for the
senate to assemble upon the ides of March [15th March], in the
senate-house built by Pompey, they approved both of the time and place,
as most fitting for their purpose.
LXXXI. Caesar had warning given him of his fate by indubitable (50)
omens. A few months before, when the colonists settled at Capua, by
virtue of the Julian law, were demolishing some old sepulchres, in
building country-houses, and were the more eager at the work, because
they discovered certain vessels of antique workmanship, a tablet of brass
was found in a tomb, in which Capys, the founder of Capua, was said to
have been buried, with an inscription in the Greek language to this
effect “Whenever the bones of Capys come to be discovered, a descendant
of Iulus will be slain by the hands of his kinsmen, and his death
revenged by fearful disasters throughout Italy.” Lest any person should
regard this anecdote as a fabulous or silly invention, it was circulated
upon the authority of Caius Balbus, an intimate friend of Caesar’s. A
few days likewise before his death, he was informed that the horses,
which, upon his crossing the Rubicon, he had consecrated, and turned
loose to graze without a keeper, abstained entirely from eating, and shed
floods of tears. The soothsayer Spurinna, observing certain ominous
appearances in a sacrifice which he was offering, advised him to beware
of some danger, which threatened to befall him before the ides of March
were past. The day before the ides, birds of various kinds from a
neighbouring grove, pursuing a wren which flew into Pompey’s senate-house
[94], with a sprig of laurel in its beak, tore it in pieces. Also, in
the night on which the day of his murder dawned, he dreamt at one time
that he was soaring above the clouds, and, at another, that he had joined
hands with Jupiter. His wife Calpurnia fancied in her sleep that the
pediment of the house was falling down, and her husband stabbed on her
bosom; immediately upon which the chamber doors flew open. On account of
these omens, as well as his infirm health, he was in some doubt whether
he should not remain at home, and defer to some other opportunity the
business which he intended to propose to the senate; but Decimus Brutus
advising him not to disappoint the senators, who were numerously
assembled, and waited his coming, he was prevailed upon to go, and
accordingly (51) set forward about the fifth hour. In his way, some
person having thrust into his hand a paper, warning him against the plot,
he mixed it with some other documents which he held in his left hand,
intending to read it at leisure. Victim after victim was slain, without
any favourable appearances in the entrails; but still, disregarding all
omens, he entered the senate-house, laughing at Spurinna as a false
prophet, because the ides of March were come, without any mischief having
befallen him. To which the soothsayer replied, “They are come, indeed,
but not past.”
LXXXII. When he had taken his seat, the conspirators stood round him,
under colour of paying their compliments; and immediately Tullius Cimber,
who had engaged to commence the assault, advancing nearer than the rest,
as if he had some favour to request, Caesar made signs that he should
defer his petition to some other time. Tullius immediately seized him by
the toga, on both shoulders; at which Caesar crying out, “Violence is
meant!” one of the Cassii wounded him a little below the throat. Caesar
seized him by the arm, and ran it through with his style [95]; and
endeavouring to rush forward was stopped by another wound. Finding
himself now attacked on all hands with naked poniards, he wrapped the
toga [96] about his head, and at the same moment drew the skirt round his
legs with his left hand, that he might fall more decently with the lower
part of his body covered. He was stabbed with three and twenty wounds,
uttering a groan only, but no cry, at the first wound; although some
authors relate, that when Marcus Brutus fell upon him, he exclaimed,
“What! art thou, too, one of them? Thou, my son!” [97] The whole
assembly instantly (52) dispersing, he lay for some time after he
expired, until three of his slaves laid the body on a litter, and carried
it home, with one arm hanging down over the side. Among so many wounds,
there was none that was mortal, in the opinion of the surgeon Antistius,
except the second, which he received in the breast. The conspirators
meant to drag his body into the Tiber as soon as they had killed him; to
confiscate his estate, and rescind all his enactments; but they were
deterred by fear of Mark Antony, and Lepidus, Caesar’s master of the
horse, and abandoned their intentions.
LXXXIII. At the instance of Lucius Piso, his father-in-law, his will was
opened and read in Mark Antony’s house. He had made it on the ides
[13th] of the preceding September, at his Lavican villa, and committed it
to the custody of the chief of the Vestal Virgins. Quintus Tubero
informs us, that in all the wills he had signed, from the time of his
first consulship to the breaking out of the civil war, Cneius Pompey was
appointed his heir, and that this had been publicly notified to the army.
But in his last will, he named three heirs, the grandsons of his sisters;
namely, Caius Octavius for three fourths of his estate, and Lucius
Pinarius and Quintus Pedius for the remaining fourth. Other heirs [in
remainder] were named at the close of the will, in which he also adopted
Caius Octavius, who was to assume his name, into his family; and
nominated most of those who were concerned in his death among the
guardians of his son, if he should have any; as well as Decimus Brutus
amongst his heirs of the second order. Be bequeathed to the Roman people
his gardens near the Tiber, and three hundred sesterces each man.
LXXXIV. Notice of his funeral having been solemnly proclaimed, a pile
was erected in the Campus Martius, near the tomb of his daughter Julia;
and before the Rostra was placed a gilded tabernacle, on the model of the
temple of Venus Genitrix; within which was an ivory bed, covered with
purple and cloth of gold. At the head was a trophy, with the
[bloodstained] robe in which he was slain. It being considered that the
whole day would not suffice for carrying the funeral oblations in solemn
procession before the corpse, directions were given for every one,
without regard to order, to carry them from the city into the Campus
Martius, by what way they pleased. To raise pity and indignation for his
murder, in the plays acted at the funeral, a passage was sung from
Pacuvius’s tragedy, entitled, “The Trial for Arms:”
That ever I, unhappy man, should save
Wretches, who thus have brought me to the grave! [98]
And some lines also from Attilius’s tragedy of “Electra,” to the same
effect. Instead of a funeral panegyric, the consul Antony ordered a
herald to proclaim to the people the decree of the senate, in which they
had bestowed upon him all honours, divine and human; with the oath by
which they had engaged themselves for the defence of his person; and to
these he added only a few words of his own. The magistrates and others
who had formerly filled the highest offices, carried the bier from the
Rostra into the Forum. While some proposed that the body should be burnt
in the sanctuary of the temple of Jupiter Capitolinus, and others in
Pompey’s senate-house; on a sudden, two men, with swords by their sides,
and spears in their hands, set fire to the bier with lighted torches.
The throng around immediately heaped upon it dry faggots, the tribunals
and benches of the adjoining courts, and whatever else came to hand.
Then the musicians and players stripped off the dresses they wore on the
present occasion, taken from the wardrobe of his triumph at spectacles,
rent them, and threw them into the flames. The legionaries, also, of his
(54) veteran bands, cast in their armour, which they had put on in honour
of his funeral. Most of the ladies did the same by their ornaments, with
the bullae [99], and mantles of their children. In this public mourning
there joined a multitude of foreigners, expressing their sorrow according
to the fashion of their respective countries; but especially the Jews
[100], who for several nights together frequented the spot where the body
was burnt.
LXXXV. The populace ran from the funeral, with torches in their hands,
to the houses of Brutus and Cassius, and were repelled with difficulty.
Going in quest of Cornelius Cinna, who had in a speech, the day before,
reflected severely upon Caesar, and mistaking for him Helvius Cinna, who
happened to fall into their hands, they murdered the latter, and carried
his head about the city on the point of a spear. They afterwards erected
in the Forum a column of Numidian marble, formed of one stone nearly
twenty feet high, and inscribed upon it these words, TO THE FATHER OF HIS
COUNTRY. At this column they continued for a long time to offer
sacrifices, make vows, and decide controversies, in which they swore by
Caesar.
LXXXVI. Some of Caesar’s friends entertained a suspicion, that he
neither desired nor cared to live any longer, on account of his declining
health; and for that reason slighted all the omens of religion, and the
warnings of his friends. Others are of opinion, that thinking himself
secure in the late decree of the senate, and their oaths, he dismissed
his Spanish guards who attended him with drawn swords. Others again
suppose, that he chose rather to face at once the dangers which
threatened him on all sides, than to be for ever on the watch against
them. Some tell us that he used to say, the commonwealth was more
interested in the safety of his person than himself: for that he had for
some time been satiated with power and glory; but that the commonwealth,
if any thing should befall him, would have no rest, and, involved in
another civil war, would be in a worse state than before.
(55) LXXXVII. This, however, was generally admitted, that his death was
in many respects such as he would have chosen. For, upon reading the
account delivered by Xenophon, how Cyrus in his last illness gave
instructions respecting his funeral, Caesar deprecated a lingering death,
and wished that his own might be sudden and speedy. And the day before
he died, the conversation at supper, in the house of Marcus Lepidus,
turning upon what was the most eligible way of dying, he gave his opinion
in favour of a death that is sudden and unexpected.
LXXXVIII. He died in the fifty-sixth year of his age, and was ranked
amongst the Gods, not only by a formal decree, but in the belief of the
vulgar. For during the first games which Augustus, his heir, consecrated
to his memory, a comet blazed for seven days together, rising always
about eleven o’clock; and it was supposed to be the soul of Caesar, now
received into heaven: for which reason, likewise, he is represented on
his statue with a star on his brow. The senate-house in which he was
slain, was ordered to be shut up [101], and a decree made that the ides
of March should be called parricidal, and the senate should never more
assemble on that day.
LXXXIX. Scarcely any of those who were accessary to his murder, survived
him more than three years, or died a natural death [102]. They were all
condemned by the senate: some were taken off by one accident, some by
another. Part of them perished at sea, others fell in battle; and some
slew themselves with the same poniard with which they had stabbed Caesar
[103].
(56) [104] The termination of the civil war between Caesar and Pompey
forms a new epoch in the Roman History, at which a Republic, which had
subsisted with unrivalled glory during a period of about four hundred and
sixty years, relapsed into a state of despotism, whence it never more
could emerge. So sudden a transition from prosperity to the ruin of
public freedom, without the intervention of any foreign enemy, excites a
reasonable conjecture, that the constitution in which it could take
place, however vigorous in appearance, must have lost that soundness of
political health which had enabled it to endure through so many ages. A
short view of its preceding state, and of that in which it was at the
time of the revolution now mentioned, will best ascertain the foundation
of such a conjecture.
Though the Romans, upon the expulsion of Tarquin, made an essential
change in the political form of the state, they did not carry their
detestation of regal authority so far as to abolish the religious
institutions of Numa Pompilius, the second of their kings, according to
which, the priesthood, with all the influence annexed to that order, was
placed in the hands of the aristocracy. By this wise policy a restraint
was put upon the fickleness and violence of the people in matters of
government, and a decided superiority given to the Senate both in the
deliberative and executive parts of administration. This advantage was
afterwards indeed diminished by the creation of Tribunes of the people; a
set of men whose ambition often embroiled the Republic in civil
dissensions, and who at last abused their authority to such a degree,
that they became instruments of aggrandizement to any leading men in the
state who could purchase their friendship. In general, however, the
majority of the Tribunes being actuated by views which comprehended the
interests of the multitude, rather than those of individuals, they did
not so much endanger the liberty, as they interrupted the tranquillity,
of the public; and when the occasional commotions subsided, there
remained no permanent ground for the establishment of personal
usurpation.
In every government, an object of the last importance to the peace and
welfare of society is the morals of the people; and in proportion as a
community is enlarged by propagation, or the accession of a multitude of
new members, a more strict attention is requisite to guard against that
dissolution of manners to which a crowded and extensive capital has a
natural tendency. Of this (57) the Romans became sensible in the growing
state of the Republic. In the year of the City 312, two magistrates were
first created for taking an account of the number of the people, and the
value of their estates; and soon after, they were invested with the
authority not only of inspecting the morals of individuals, but of
inflicting public censure for any licentiousness of conduct, or violation
of decency. Thus both the civil and religious institutions concurred to
restrain the people within the bounds of good order and obedience to the
laws; at the same time that the frugal life of the ancient Romans proved
a strong security against those vices which operate most effectually
towards sapping the foundations of a state.
But in the time of Julius Caesar the barriers of public liberty were
become too weak to restrain the audacious efforts of ambitious and
desperate men. The veneration for the constitution, usually a powerful
check to treasonable designs, had been lately violated by the usurpations
of Marius and Sylla. The salutary terrors of religion no longer
predominated over the consciences of men. The shame of public censure
was extinguished in general depravity. An eminent historian, who lived
at that time, informs us, that venality universally prevailed amongst the
Romans; and a writer who flourished soon after, observes, that luxury and
dissipation had encumbered almost all so much with debt, that they beheld
with a degree of complacency the prospect of civil war and confusion.
The extreme degree of profligacy at which the Romans were now arrived is
in nothing more evident, than that this age gave birth to the most
horrible conspiracy which occurs in the annals of humankind, viz. that of
Catiline. This was not the project of a few desperate and abandoned
individuals, but of a number of men of the most illustrious rank in the
state; and it appears beyond doubt, that Julius Caesar was accessary to
the design, which was no less than to extirpate the Senate, divide
amongst themselves both the public and private treasures, and set Rome on
fire. The causes which prompted to this tremendous project, it is
generally admitted, were luxury, prodigality, irreligion, a total
corruption of manners, and above all, as the immediate cause, the
pressing necessity in which the conspirators were involved by their
extreme dissipation.
The enormous debt in which Caesar himself was early involved,
countenances an opinion that his anxiety to procure the province of Gaul
proceeded chiefly from this cause. But during nine years in which he
held that province, he acquired such riches as must have rendered him,
without competition, the most opulent person in the state. If nothing
more, therefore, than a (58) splendid establishment had been the object
of his pursuit, he had attained to the summit of his wishes. But when we
find him persevering in a plan of aggrandizement beyond this period of
his fortunes, we can ascribe his conduct to no other motive than that of
outrageous ambition. He projected the building of a new Forum at Rome,
for the ground only of which he was to pay 800,000 pounds; he raised
legions in Gaul at his own charges: he promised such entertainments to
the people as had never been known at Rome from the foundation of the
city. All these circumstances evince some latent design of procuring
such a popularity as might give him an uncontrolled influence in the
management of public affairs. Pompey, we are told, was wont to say, that
Caesar not being able, with all his riches, to fulfil the promises which
he had made, wished to throw everything into confusion. There may have
been some foundation for this remark: but the opinion of Cicero is more
probable, that Caesar’s mind was seduced with the temptations of
chimerical glory. It is observable that neither Cicero nor Pompey
intimates any suspicion that Caesar was apprehensive of being impeached
for his conduct, had he returned to Rome in a private station. Yet, that
there was reason for such an apprehension, the positive declaration of L.
Domitius leaves little room to doubt: especially when we consider the
number of enemies that Caesar had in the Senate, and the coolness of his
former friend Pompey ever after the death of Julia. The proposed
impeachment was founded upon a notorious charge of prosecuting measures
destructive of the interests of the commonwealth, and tending ultimately
to an object incompatible with public freedom. Indeed, considering the
extreme corruption which prevailed amongst the Romans at this time, it is
more than probable that Caesar would have been acquitted of the charge,
but at such an expense as must have stripped him of all his riches, and
placed him again in a situation ready to attempt a disturbance of the
public tranquillity. For it is said, that he purchased the friendship of
Curio, at the commencement of the civil war, with a bribe little short of
half a million sterling.
Whatever Caesar’s private motive may have been for taking arms against
his country, he embarked in an enterprise of a nature the most dangerous:
and had Pompey conducted himself in any degree suitable to the reputation
which he had formerly acquired, the contest would in all probability have
terminated in favour of public freedom. But by dilatory measures in the
beginning, by imprudently withdrawing his army from Italy into a distant
province, and by not pursuing the advantage he had gained by the vigorous
repulse of Caesar’s troops in their attack upon his camp, this commander
lost every opportunity of extinguishing a war which was to determine the
fate, and even the existence, of the Republic. It was accordingly
determined on the plains of Pharsalia, where Caesar obtained a victory
which was not more decisive than unexpected. He was now no longer
amenable either to the tribunal of the Senate or the power of the laws,
but triumphed at once over his enemies and the constitution of his
country.
It is to the honour of Caesar, that when he had obtained the supreme
power, he exercised it with a degree of moderation beyond what was
generally expected by those who had fought on the side of the Republic.
Of his private life either before or after this period, little is
transmitted in history. Henceforth, however, he seems to have lived
chiefly at Rome, near which he had a small villa, upon an eminence,
commanding a beautiful prospect. His time was almost entirely occupied
with public affairs, in the management of which, though he employed many
agents, he appears to have had none in the character of actual minister.
He was in general easy of access: but Cicero, in a letter to a friend,
complains of having been treated with the indignity of waiting a
considerable time amongst a crowd in an anti-chamber, before he could
have an audience. The elevation of Caesar placed him not above
discharging reciprocally the social duties in the intercourse of life.
He returned the visits of those who waited upon him, and would sup at
their houses. At table, and in the use of wine, he was habitually
temperate. Upon the whole, he added nothing to his own happiness by all
the dangers, the fatigues, and the perpetual anxiety which he had
incurred in the pursuit of unlimited power. His health was greatly
impaired: his former cheerfulness of temper, though not his magnanimity,
appears to have forsaken him; and we behold in his fate a memorable
example of illustrious talents rendered, by inordinate ambition,
destructive to himself, and irretrievably pernicious to his country.
From beholding the ruin of the Roman Republic, after intestine divisions,
and the distractions of civil war, it will afford some relief to take a
view of the progress of literature, which flourished even during those
calamities.
The commencement of literature in Rome is to be dated from the reduction
of the Grecian States, when the conquerors imported into their own
country the valuable productions of the Greek language, and the first
essay of Roman genius was in dramatic composition. Livius Andronicus,
who flourished about 240 years before the Christian aera, formed the
Fescennine verses into a kind of regular drama, upon the model of the
Greeks. He was followed some time after by Ennius, who, besides dramatic
and other compositions, (60) wrote the annals of the Roman Republic in
heroic verse. His style, like that of Andronicus, was rough and
unpolished, in conformity to the language of those times; but for
grandeur of sentiment and energy of expression, he was admired by the
greatest poets in the subsequent ages. Other writers of distinguished
reputation in the dramatic department were Naevius, Pacuvius, Plautus,
Afranius, Caecilius, Terence, Accius, etc. Accius and Pacuvius are
mentioned by Quintilian as writers of extraordinary merit. Of
twenty-five comedies written by Plautus, the number transmitted to
posterity is nineteen; and of a hundred and eight which Terence is said to
have translated from Menander, there now remain only six. Excepting a few
inconsiderable fragments, the writings of all the other authors have
perished. The early period of Roman literature was distinguished for the
introduction of satire by Lucilius, an author celebrated for writing with
remarkable ease, but whose compositions, in the opinion of Horace, though
Quintilian thinks otherwise, were debased with a mixture of feculency.
Whatever may have been their merit, they also have perished, with the
works of a number of orators, who adorned the advancing state of letters
in the Roman Republic. It is observable, that during this whole period,
of near two centuries and a half, there appeared not one historian of
eminence sufficient to preserve his name from oblivion.
Julius Caesar himself is one of the most eminent writers of the age in
which he lived. His commentaries on the Gallic and Civil Wars are
written with a purity, precision, and perspicuity, which command
approbation. They are elegant without affectation, and beautiful without
ornament. Of the two books which he composed on Analogy, and those under
the title of Anti-Cato, scarcely any fragment is preserved; but we may be
assured of the justness of the observations on language, which were made
by an author so much distinguished by the excellence of his own
compositions. His poem entitled The Journey, which was probably an
entertaining narrative, is likewise totally lost.
The most illustrious prose writer of this or any other age is M. Tullius
Cicero; and as his life is copiously related in biographical works, it
will be sufficient to mention his writings. From his earliest years, he
applied himself with unremitting assiduity to the cultivation of
literature, and, whilst he was yet a boy, wrote a poem, called Glaucus
Pontius, which was extant in Plutarch’s time. Amongst his juvenile
productions was a translation into Latin verse, of Aratus on the
Phaenomena of the Heavens; of which many fragments are still extant. He
also published a poem of the heroic kind, in honour of his countryman C.
Marius, who was born at Arpinum, the birth-place of Cicero. (61) This
production was greatly admired by Atticus; and old Scaevola was so much
pleased with it, that in an epigram written on the subject, he declares
that it would live as long as the Roman name and learning subsisted.
From a little specimen which remains of it, describing a memorable omen
given to Marina from an oak at Arpinum, there is reason to believe that
his poetical genius was scarcely inferior to his oratorical, had it been
cultivated with equal industry. He published another poem called Limon,
of which Donatus has preserved four lines in the life of Terence, in
praise of the elegance and purity of that poet’s style. He composed in
the Greek language, and in the style and manner of Isocrates, a
Commentary or Memoirs of the Transactions of his Consulship. This he
sent to Atticus, with a desire, if he approved it, to publish it in
Athens and the cities of Greece. He sent a copy of it likewise to
Posidonius of Rhodes, and requested of him to undertake the same subject
in a more elegant and masterly manner. But the latter returned for
answer, that, instead of being encouraged to write by the perusal of his
tract, he was quite deterred from attempting it.
Upon the plan of those Memoirs, he afterwards composed a Latin poem in
three books, in which he carried down the history to the end of his
exile, but did not publish it for several years, from motives of
delicacy. The three books were severally inscribed to the three Muses;
but of this work there now remain only a few fragments, scattered in
different parts of his other writings. He published, about the same
time, a collection of the principal speeches which he had made in his
consulship, under the title of his Consular Orations. They consisted
originally of twelve; but four are entirely lost, and some of the rest
are imperfect. He now published also, in Latin verse, a translation of
the Prognostics of Aratus, of which work no more than two or three small
fragments now remain. A few years after, he put the last hand to his
Dialogues upon the Character and Idea of the perfect Orator. This
admirable work remains entire; a monument both of the astonishing
industry and transcendent abilities of its author. At his Cuman villa,
he next began a Treatise on Politics, or on the best State of a City, and
the Duties of a Citizen. He calls it a great and a laborious work, yet
worthy of his pains, if he could succeed in it. This likewise was
written in the form of a dialogue, in which the speakers were Scipio,
Laelius, Philus, Manilius, and other great persons in the former times of
the Republic. It was comprised in six books, and survived him for
several ages, though it is now unfortunately lost. From the fragments
which remain, it appears to have been a masterly production, in which all
the important questions in politics and morality were discussed with
elegance and accuracy.
(62) Amidst all the anxiety for the interests of the Republic, which
occupied the thoughts of this celebrated personage, he yet found leisure
to write several philosophical tracts, which still subsist, to the
gratification of the literary world. He composed a treatise on the
Nature of the Gods, in three books, containing a comprehensive view of
religion, faith, oaths, ceremonies, etc. In elucidating this important
subject, he not only delivers the opinions of all the philosophers who
had written anything concerning it, but weighs and compares attentively
all the arguments with each other; forming upon the whole such a rational
and perfect system of natural religion, as never before was presented to
the consideration of mankind, and approaching nearly to revelation. He
now likewise composed in two books, a discourse on Divination, in which
he discusses at large all the arguments that may be advanced for and
against the actual existence of such a species of knowledge. Like the
preceding works, it is written in the form of dialogue, and in which the
chief speaker is Laelius. The same period gave birth to his treatise on
Old Age, called Cato Major; and to that on Friendship, written also in
dialogue, and in which the chief speaker is Laelius. This book,
considered merely as an essay, is one of the most entertaining
productions of ancient times; but, beheld as a picture drawn from life,
exhibiting the real characters and sentiments of men of the first
distinction for virtue and wisdom in the Roman Republic, it becomes
doubly interesting to every reader of observation and taste. Cicero now
also wrote his discourse on Fate, which was the subject of a conversation
with Hirtius, in his villa near Puteoli; and he executed about the same
time a translation of Plato’s celebrated Dialogue, called Timaeus, on the
nature and origin of the universe. He was employing himself also on a
history of his own times, or rather of his own conduct; full of free and
severe reflections on those who had abused their power to the oppression
of the Republic. Dion Cassius says, that he delivered this book sealed
up to his son, with strict orders not to read or publish it till after
his death; but from this time he never saw his son, and it is probable
that he left the work unfinished. Afterwards, however, some copies of it
were circulated; from which his commentator, Asconius, has quoted several
particulars.
During a voyage which he undertook to Sicily, he wrote his treatise on
Topics, or the Art of finding Arguments on any Question. This was an
abstract from Aristotle’s treatise on the same subject; and though he had
neither Aristotle nor any other book to assist him, he drew it up from
his memory, and finished it as he sailed along the coast of Calabria.
The last (63) work composed by Cicero appears to have been his Offices,
written for the use of his son, to whom it is addressed. This treatise
contains a system of moral conduct, founded upon the noblest principles
of human action, and recommended by arguments drawn from the purest
sources of philosophy.
Such are the literary productions of this extraordinary man, whose
comprehensive understanding enabled him to conduct with superior ability
the most abstruse disquisitions into moral and metaphysical science.
Born in an age posterior to Socrates and Plato, he could not anticipate
the principles inculcated by those divine philosophers, but he is justly
entitled to the praise, not only of having prosecuted with unerring
judgment the steps which they trod before him, but of carrying his
researches to greater extent into the most difficult regions of
philosophy. This too he had the merit to perform, neither in the station
of a private citizen, nor in the leisure of academic retirement, but in
the bustle of public life, amidst the almost constant exertions of the
bar, the employment of the magistrate, the duty of the senator, and the
incessant cares of the statesman; through a period likewise chequered
with domestic afflictions and fatal commotions in the Republic. As a
philosopher, his mind appears to have been clear, capacious, penetrating,
and insatiable of knowledge. As a writer, he was endowed with every
talent that could captivate either the judgment or taste. His researches
were continually employed on subjects of the greatest utility to mankind,
and those often such as extended beyond the narrow bounds of temporal
existence. The being of a God, the immortality of the soul, a future
state of rewards and punishments, and the eternal distinction of good and
evil; these were in general the great objects of his philosophical
enquiries, and he has placed them in a more convincing point of view than
they ever were before exhibited to the pagan world. The variety and
force of the arguments which he advances, the splendour of his diction,
and the zeal with which he endeavours to excite the love and admiration
of virtue, all conspire to place his character, as a philosophical
writer, including likewise his incomparable eloquence, on the summit of
human celebrity.
The form of dialogue, so much used by Cicero, he doubtless adopted in
imitation of Plato, who probably took the hint of it from the colloquial
method of instruction practised by Socrates. In the early stage of
philosophical enquiry, this mode of composition was well adapted, if not
to the discovery, at least to the confirmation of moral truth; especially
as the practice was then not uncommon, for speculative men to converse
together on important subjects, for mutual information. In treating of
any subject respecting which the different sects of philosophers differed
(64) from each other in point of sentiment, no kind of composition could
be more happily suited than dialogue, as it gave alternately full scope
to the arguments of the various disputants. It required, however, that
the writer should exert his understanding with equal impartiality and
acuteness on the different sides of the question; as otherwise he might
betray a cause under the appearance of defending it. In all the
dialogues of Cicero, he manages the arguments of the several disputants
in a manner not only the most fair and interesting, but also such as
leads to the most probable and rational conclusion.
After enumerating the various tracts composed and published by Cicero, we
have now to mention his Letters, which, though not written for
publication, deserve to be ranked among the most interesting remains of
Roman literature. The number of such as are addressed to different
correspondents is considerable, but those to Atticus alone, his
confidential friend, amount to upwards of four hundred; among which are
many of great length. They are all written in the genuine spirit of the
most approved epistolary composition; uniting familiarity with elevation,
and ease with elegance. They display in a beautiful light the author’s
character in the social relations of life; as a warm friend, a zealous
patron, a tender husband, an affectionate brother, an indulgent father,
and a kind master. Beholding them in a more extensive view, they exhibit
an ardent love of liberty and the constitution of his country: they
discover a mind strongly actuated with the principles of virtue and
reason; and while they abound in sentiments the most judicious and
philosophical, they are occasionally blended with the charms of wit, and
agreeable effusions of pleasantry. What is likewise no small addition to
their merit, they contain much interesting description of private life,
with a variety of information relative to public transactions and
characters of that age. It appears from Cicero’s correspondence, that
there was at that time such a number of illustrious Romans, as never
before existed in any one period of the Republic. If ever, therefore,
the authority of men the most respectable for virtue, rank, and
abilities, could have availed to overawe the first attempts at a
violation of public liberty, it must have been at this period; for the
dignity of the Roman senate was now in the zenith of its splendour.
Cicero has been accused of excessive vanity, and of arrogating to himself
an invidious superiority, from his extraordinary talents but whoever
peruses his letters to Atticus, must readily acknowledge, that this
imputation appears to be destitute of truth. In those excellent
productions, though he adduces the strongest arguments for and against
any object of consideration, that the (65) most penetrating understanding
can suggest, weighs them with each other, and draws from them the most
rational conclusions, he yet discovers such a diffidence in his own
opinion, that he resigns himself implicitly to the judgment and direction
of his friend; a modesty not very compatible with the disposition of the
arrogant, who are commonly tenacious of their own opinion, particularly
in what relates to any decision of the understanding.
It is difficult to say, whether Cicero appears in his letters more great
or amiable: but that he was regarded by his contemporaries in both these
lights, and that too in the highest degree, is sufficiently evident. We
may thence infer, that the great poets in the subsequent age must have
done violence to their own liberality and discernment, when, in
compliment to Augustus, whose sensibility would have been wounded by the
praises of Cicero, and even by the mention of his name, they have so
industriously avoided the subject, as not to afford the most distant
intimation that this immortal orator and philosopher had ever existed.
Livy however, there is reason to think, did some justice to his memory:
but it was not until the race of the Caesars had become extinct, that he
received the free and unanimous applause of impartial posterity. Such
was the admiration which Quintilian entertained of his writings, that he
considered the circumstance or being delighted with them, as an
indubitable proof of judgment and taste in literature. Ille se
profecisse sciat, cui Cicero valde placebit. [105]
In this period is likewise to be placed M. Terentius Varro, the
celebrated Roman grammarian, and the Nestor of ancient learning. The
first mention made of him is, that he was lieutenant to Pompey in his
piratical wars, and obtained in that service a naval crown. In the civil
wars he joined the side of the Republic, and was taken by Caesar; by whom
he was likewise proscribed, but obtained a remission of the sentence. Of
all the ancients, he has acquired the greatest fame for his extensive
erudition; and we may add, that he displayed the same industry in
communicating, as he had done in collecting it. His works originally
amounted to no less than five hundred volumes, which have all perished,
except a treatise De Lingua Latina, and one De Re Rustica. Of the former
of these, which is addressed to Cicero, three books at the beginning are
also lost. It appears from the introduction of the fourth book, that
they all related to etymology. The first contained such observations as
might be made against it; the second, such as might be made in its
favour; and the third, observations upon it. He next proceeds to
investigate the origin of (66) Latin words. In the fourth book, he
traces those which relate to place; in the fifth, those connected with
the idea of time; and in the sixth, the origin of both these classes, as
they appear in the writings of the poets. The seventh book is employed
on declension; in which the author enters upon a minute and extensive
enquiry, comprehending a variety of acute and profound observations on
the formation of Latin nouns, and their respective natural declinations
from the nominative case. In the eighth, he examines the nature and
limits of usage and analogy in language; and in the ninth and last book
on the subject, takes a general view of what is the reverse of analogy,
viz. anomaly. The precision and perspicuity which Varro displays in this
work merit the highest encomiums, and justify the character given him in
his own time, of being the most learned of the Latin grammarians. To the
loss of the first three books, are to be added several chasms in the
others; but fortunately they happen in such places as not to affect the
coherency of the author’s doctrine, though they interrupt the
illustration of it. It is observable that this great grammarian makes
use of quom for quum, heis for his, and generally queis for quibus. This
practice having become rather obsolete at the time in which he wrote, we
must impute his continuance of it to his opinion of its propriety, upon
its established principles of grammar, and not to any prejudice of
education, or an affectation of singularity. As Varro makes no mention
of Caesar’s treatise on Analogy, and had commenced author long before
him, it is probable that Caesar’s production was of a much later date;
and thence we may infer, that those two writers differed from each other,
at least with respect to some particulars on that subject.
This author’s treatise De Re Rustica was undertaken at the desire of a
friend, who, having purchased some lands, requested of Varro the favour
of his instructions relative to farming, and the economy of a country
life, in its various departments. Though Varro was at this time in his
eightieth year, he writes with all the vivacity, though without the
levity, of youth, and sets out with invoking, not the Muses, like Homer
and Ennius, as he observes, but the twelve deities supposed to be chiefly
concerned in the operations of agriculture. It appears from the account
which he gives, that upwards of fifty Greek authors had treated of this
subject in prose, besides Hesiod and Menecrates the Ephesian, who both
wrote in verse; exclusive likewise of many Roman writers, and of Mago the
Carthaginian, who wrote in the Punic language. Varro’s work is divided
into three books, the first of which treats of agriculture; the second,
of rearing of cattle; and the third, of feeding animals for the use of
the table. (67) In the last of these, we meet with a remarkable instance
of the prevalence of habit and fashion over human sentiment, where the
author delivers instructions relative to the best method of fattening
rats.
We find from Quintilian, that Varro likewise composed satires in various
kinds of verse. It is impossible to behold the numerous fragments of
this venerable author without feeling the strongest regret for the loss
of that vast collection of information which he had compiled, and of
judicious observations which he had made on a variety of subjects, during
a life of eighty-eight years, almost entirely devoted to literature. The
remark of St. Augustine is well founded, That it is astonishing how
Varro, who read such a number of books, could find time to compose so
many volumes; and how he who composed so many volumes, could be at
leisure to peruse such a variety of books, and to gain so much literary
information.
Catullus is said to have been born at Verona, of respectable parents; his
father and himself being in the habit of intimacy with Julius Caesar. He
was brought to Rome by Mallius, to whom several of his epigrams are
addressed. The gentleness of his manners, and his application to study,
we are told, recommended him to general esteem; and he had the good
fortune to obtain the patronage of Cicero. When he came to be known as a
poet, all these circumstances would naturally contribute to increase his
reputation for ingenuity; and accordingly we find his genius applauded by
several of his contemporaries. It appears that his works are not
transmitted entire to posterity; but there remain sufficient specimens by
which we may be enabled to appreciate his poetical talents.
Quintilian, and Diomed the grammarian, have ranked Catullus amongst the
iambic writers, while others have placed him amongst the lyric. He has
properly a claim to each of these stations; but his versification being
chiefly iambic, the former of the arrangements seems to be the most
suitable. The principal merit of Catullus’s Iambics consists in a
simplicity of thought and expression. The thoughts, however, are often
frivolous, and, what is yet more reprehensible, the author gives way to
gross obscenity: in vindication of which, he produces the following
couplet, declaring that a good poet ought to be chaste in his own person,
but that his verses need not be so.
Nam castum esse decet pium poetam
Ipsum: versiculos nihil necesse est.
This sentiment has been frequently cited by those who were inclined to
follow the example of Catullus; but if such a practice be in any case
admissible, it is only where the poet personates (68) a profligate
character; and the instances in which it is adopted by Catullus are not
of that description. It had perhaps been a better apology, to have
pleaded the manners of the times; for even Horace, who wrote only a few
years after, has suffered his compositions to be occasionally debased by
the same kind of blemish.
Much has been said of this poet’s invective against Caesar, which
produced no other effect than an invitation to sup at the dictator’s
house. It was indeed scarcely entitled to the honour of the smallest
resentment. If any could be shewn, it must have been for the freedom
used by the author, and not for any novelty in his lampoon. There are
two poems on this subject, viz. the twenty-ninth and fifty-seventh, in
each of which Caesar is joined with Mamurra, a Roman knight, who had
acquired great riches in the Gallic war. For the honour of Catullus’s
gratitude, we should suppose that the latter is the one to which
historians allude: but, as poetical compositions, they are equally
unworthy of regard. The fifty seventh is nothing more than a broad
repetition of the raillery, whether well or ill founded, with which
Caesar was attacked on various occasions, and even in the senate, after
his return from Bithynia. Caesar had been taunted with this subject for
upwards of thirty years; and after so long a familiarity with reproach,
his sensibility to the scandalous imputation must now have been much
diminished, if not entirely extinguished. The other poem is partly in
the same strain, but extended to greater length, by a mixture of common
jocular ribaldry of the Roman soldiers, expressed nearly in the same
terms which Caesar’s legions, though strongly attached to his person,
scrupled not to sport publicly in the streets of Rome, against their
general, during the celebration of his triumph. In a word, it deserves
to be regarded as an effusion of Saturnalian licentiousness, rather than
of poetry. With respect to the Iambics of Catullus, we may observe in
general, that the sarcasm is indebted for its force, not so much to
ingenuity of sentiment, as to the indelicate nature of the subject, or
coarseness of expression.
The descriptive poems of Catullus are superior to the others, and
discover a lively imagination. Amongst the best of his productions, is a
translation of the celebrated ode of Sappho:
Ille mi par esse Deo videtur,
me, etc.
This ode is executed both with spirit and elegance; it is, however,
imperfect; and the last stanza seems to be spurious. Catullus’s epigrams
are entitled to little praise, with regard either to sentiment or point;
and on the whole, his merit, as a poet, appears to have been magnified
beyond its real extent. He is said to have died about the thirtieth year
of his age.
(69) Lucretius is the author of a celebrated poem, in six books, De Rerum
Natura; a subject which had been treated many ages before by Empedocles,
a philosopher and poet of Agrigentum. Lucretius was a zealous partizan
of Democritus, and the sect of Epicurus, whose principles concerning the
eternity of matter, the materiality of the soul, and the non-existence of
a future state of rewards and punishments, he affects to maintain with a
certainty equal to that of mathematical demonstration. Strongly
prepossessed with the hypothetical doctrines of his master, and ignorant
of the physical system of the universe, he endeavours to deduce from the
phenomena of the material world conclusions not only unsupported by
legitimate theory, but repugnant to the principles of the highest
authority in metaphysical disquisition. But while we condemn his
speculative notions as degrading to human nature, and subversive of the
most important interests of mankind, we must admit that he has prosecuted
his visionary hypothesis with uncommon ingenuity. Abstracting from it
the rhapsodical nature of this production, and its obscurity in some
parts, it has great merit as a poem. The style is elevated, and the
versification in general harmonious. By the mixture of obsolete words,
it possesses an air of solemnity well adapted to abstruse researches; at
the same time that by the frequent resolution of diphthongs, it instils
into the Latin the sonorous and melodious powers of the Greek language.
While Lucretius was engaged in this work, he fell into a state of
insanity, occasioned, as is supposed, by a philtre, or love-potion, given
him by his wife Lucilia. The complaint, however, having lucid intervals,
he employed them in the execution of his plan, and, soon after it was
finished, laid violent hands upon himself, in the forty-third year of his
age. This fatal termination of his life, which perhaps proceeded from
insanity, was ascribed by his friends and admirers to his concern for the
banishment of one Memmius, with whom he was intimately connected, and for
the distracted state of the republic. It was, however, a catastrophe
which the principles of Epicurus, equally erroneous and irreconcilable to
resignation and fortitude, authorized in particular circumstances. Even
Atticus, the celebrated correspondent of Cicero, a few years after this
period, had recourse to the same desperate expedient, by refusing all
sustenance, while he laboured under a lingering disease.
It is said that Cicero revised the poem of Lucretius after the death of
the author, and this circumstance is urged by the abettors of atheism, as
a proof that the principles contained in the work had the sanction of his
authority. But no inference in favour of Lucretius’s doctrine can justly
be drawn from this circumstance. (70) Cicero, though already
sufficiently acquainted with the principles of the Epicurean sect, might
not be averse to the perusal of a production, which collected and
enforced them in a nervous strain of poetry; especially as the work was
likely to prove interesting to his friend Atticus, and would perhaps
afford subject for some letters or conversation between them. It can
have been only with reference to composition that the poem was submitted
to Cicero’s revisal: for had he been required to exercise his judgment
upon its principles, he must undoubtedly have so much mutilated the work,
as to destroy the coherency of the system. He might be gratified with
the shew of elaborate research, and confident declamation, which it
exhibited, but he must have utterly disapproved of the conclusions which
the author endeavoured to establish. According to the best information,
Lucretius died in the year from the building of Rome 701, when Pompey was
the third time consul. Cicero lived several years beyond this period,
and in the two last years of his life, he composed those valuable works
which contain sentiments diametrically repugnant to the visionary system
of Epicurus. The argument, therefore, drawn from Cicero’s revisal, so
far from confirming the principle of Lucretius, affords the strongest
tacit declaration against their validity; because a period sufficient for
mature consideration had elapsed, before Cicero published his own
admirable system of philosophy. The poem of Lucretius, nevertheless, has
been regarded as the bulwark of atheism--of atheism, which, while it
impiously arrogates the support of reason, both reason and nature
disclaim.
Many more writers flourished in this period, but their works have totally
perished. Sallust was now engaged in historical productions; but as they
were not yet completed, they will be noticed in the next division of the
review.