Produced by Keren Vergon, Tapio Riikonen, and PG Distributed Proofreaders.
POST-AUGUSTAN POETRY
From Seneca to Juvenal
By
H.E. BUTLER, Fellow of New College
PREFACE
I have attempted in this book to provide something of an introduction
to the poetical literature of the post-Augustan age. Although few of
the writers dealt with have any claim to be called poets of the first
order, and some stand very low in the scale of poetry, as a whole the
poets of this period have suffered greater neglect than they deserve.
Their undeniable weaknesses tend in many cases to obscure their real
merits, with the result that they are at times either ignored or
subjected to unduly sweeping condemnation. I have attempted in these
pages to detach and illustrate their excellences without in any way
passing over their defects.
Manilius and Phaedrus have been omitted on the ground that as regards
the general character of their writings they belong rather to the
Augustan period than to the subsequent age of decadence. Manilius indeed
composed a considerable portion of his work during the lifetime of
Augustus, while Phaedrus, though somewhat later in date, showed a
sobriety of thought and an antique simplicity of style that place him at
least a generation away from his contemporaries. The authorities to
whose works I am indebted are duly acknowledged in the course of the
work. I owe a special debt, however, to those great works of reference,
the Histories of Roman Literature by Schanz and Teuffel, to
Friedländer's _Sittengeschichte_, and, for the chapters on Lucan and
Statius, to Heitland's _Introduction to Haskin's edition of Lucan_ and
Legras' _Thébaïde de Stace_. I wish particularly to express my
indebtedness to Professor Gilbert Murray and Mr. Nowell Smith, who read
the book in manuscript and made many valuable suggestions and
corrections. I also have to thank Mr. A.S. Owen for much assistance in
the corrections of the proofs.
My thanks are owing to Professor Goldwin Smith for permission to print
translations from 'Bay Leaves', and to Mr. A.E. Street and Mr. F.J.
Miller and their publishers, for permission to quote from their
translations of Martial (Messrs. Spottiswoode) and Seneca (Chicago
University Press) respectively.
H.E. BUTLER.
_November_, 1908.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER I
THE DECLINE OF POST-AUGUSTAN POETRY
Main characteristics, p. 1.
The influence of the principate, p. 1.
Tiberius, p. 2.
Caligula, p. 4.
Claudius, p. 5.
Nero, p. 6.
Decay of Roman character, p. 9.
Peculiar nature of Roman literature, p. 10.
Greatness of Augustan poets a bar to farther advance, p. 11.
Roman education: literary, p. 12;
rhetorical, p. 14.
Absence of true educational spirit, p. 16.
Recitations, p. 18.
Results of these influences, p. 19.
CHAPTER II
DRAMA
i. THE STAGE.
Drama never really flourishing at Rome, p. 23.
Comedy, represented by Mime and Atellan farce, p. 24.
Legitimate comedy nearly extinct, p. 25.
Tragedy replaced by _salticae fabulae_, p. 26;
or musical recitations, p. 28.
Pomponius Secundus, p. 29.
Curiatius Maternus, p. 30.
ii. SENECA: his life and character, p. 31.
His position in literature, p. 35.
His epigrams, p. 36.
His plays, p. 39.
Their genuineness, p. 40.
The _Octavia, Oedipus, Agamemnon,_ and _Hercules Oetaeus,_ p. 41.
Date of the plays, p. 43.
Their dramatic value, p. 44.
Plot, p. 45.
Descriptions, p. 48.
Declamation, p. 49;
at its best in _Troades_ and _Phaedra_, p. 51.
Dialogue, p. 55.
Stoicism, p. 58.
Poetry (confined mainly to lyrics), p. 63.
Cleverness of the rhetoric, p. 65.
_Sententiae_, p. 68.
Hyperbole, p. 69.
Diction and metre; iambics, p. 70;
lyrics, p. 71.
Plays not written for the stage, p. 72.
Influence on later drama, p. 74.
iii. THE OCTAVIA. Sole example of _fabula praetexta_, p. 74.
Plot, p. 75.
Characteristics, p. 76.
Date and authorship, p. 77.
CHAPTER III
PERSIUS
Life, p. 79.
Works, p. 81.
Influence of Lucilius, p. 83;
of Horace, p. 84.
Obscurity, p. 85.
Qualifications necessary for a satirist; Persius' weakness through
lack of them, p. 87.
Success in purely literary satire, p. 88.
Lack of close observation of life, p. 90.
Persius' nobility of character, p. 91.
His Stoicism, p. 93.
His capacity for friendship, p. 95.
CHAPTER IV
LUCAN
Life, p. 97.
Minor works, p. 99.
His choice of a subject, p. 101,
Choice of epic methods, p. 102.
Petronius' criticism of historical epic, p. 103.
Difficulties of the subject, p. 104.
Design of the poem, p. 106.
Characters: Pompey, p. 106.
Caesar, p. 108.
Cato, p. 109.
Descriptive passages, p. 112.
Hyperbole, p. 115.
Irrelevance, p. 116.
Lack of poetic vocabulary, p. 116.
Tendency to political satire, p. 117.
Speeches, p. 120.
_Sententiae,_ p. 122.
Metre, p. 123.
Summary, p. 123.
CHAPTER V
PETRONIUS
Authorship of _Satyricon:_ character of Titus Petronius, p. 125.
Literary criticism, p. 127.
Attack on contemporary rhetoric, p. 128.
Eumolpus the poet, p. 129;
laments the decay of art, p. 130.
Poem on the Sack of Troy, p. 130.
Criticism of historical epic, p. 131.
The poetic fragments, p. 133.
Epigrams, p. 134.
Question of genuineness, p. 135.
Their high poetic level, p. 136.
CHAPTER VI
MINOR POETRY, 14-69 A.D.
I. DIDACTIC POETRY
i. THE AETNA. Its design, p. 140.
Characteristics of the poem, p. 141.
Authorship, p. 143.
Date, p. 145.
ii. COLUMELLA. Life and works, p. 146.
His tenth book, a fifth Georgic on gardening, p. 147.
His enthusiasm and descriptive power, p. 148.
II. CALPURNIUS SICULUS, THE EINSIEDELN FRAGMENTS, AND THE
PANEGYRICUS IN PISONEM
Pastoral poetry, p. 150.
Calpurnius Siculus; date, p. 151.
Who was he? p. 152.
Debt to Vergil, p. 152.
Elaboration of style, p. 153.
Obscurity, affectation and insignificance, p. 154.
Einsiedeln fragments; was the author Calpurnius Piso? p. 156.
_Panegyricus in Pisonem,_ p. 157.
Graceful elaboration, p. 158.
Was the author Calpurnius Siculus? p. 159.
III. ILIAS LATINA
Early translations of _Iliad,_ p. 160.
Attius Labeo, p. 160. Polybius p. 161.
_Ilias Latina,_ a summary in verse, p. 161.
Date, p. 162. Authorship: the question of the acrostic, p. 162.
Wrongly attributed to Silius Italicus. p. 163.
IV. MINOR POETS
Gaetulicus, p. 163.
Caesius Bassua, p. 164.
CHAPTER VII
EMPERORS AND MINOR POETS, 70-117 A.D.
I. EMPERORS AND POETS WHOSE WORKS ARE LOST
Vespasian and Titus, p. 166.
Domitian. The Agon Capitolinus and Agon Albanus, p. 167.
Literary characteristics of the Flavian age, p. 168.
Saleius Bassus, Serranus, and others, p. 169.
Nerva, p. 169.
Trajan, p. 170.
Passennus Paulus, p. 170.
Sentius Augurinus, p. 171.
Pliny the Younger, p. 172.
Almost entire disappearance of poetry after Hadrian. p. 174.
II. SULPICIA
Sulpicia, a lyric poetess, p. 174.
Martial's admiration for her, p. 175.
Characteristics of her work, p. 176.
Her Satire, p. 176.
Is it genuine? p. 177.
CHAPTER VIII
VALERIUS FLACCUS
Epic in the Flavian age, p. 179.
Who was Valerius? His date, p. 180.
The _Argonautica_, unfinished, p. 181.
Its general design, p. 182.
Merits and defects of the Argonaut-saga as a subject for epic, p. 183.
Valerius' debt to Apollonius Rhodius, p. 183.
Novelties introduced in treatment; Jason, p. 184;
Medea, p. 185.
Valerius has a better general conception as to how the story should be
told, but is far inferior as a poet, p. 186.
Obscure learning; lack of humour, p. 187.
Involved language, p. 188.
Preciosity; compression, p. 189.
Real poetic merit: compared with Statius and Lucan, p. 191.
Debt to Vergil, p. 191.
Metre, p. 192.
Brilliant descriptive power, p. 193.
Suggestion of mystery, p. 193.
Sense of colour, p. 195.
Similes, p. 195.
Speeches, p. 197.
The loves of Jason and Medea, p. 198.
General estimate, p. 200.
CHAPTER IX
STATIUS
Life, p. 202.
Character, p. 205.
The _Thebais_; its high average level, p. 206.
Statius a miniature painter, p, 207.
Weakness of the Theban-saga as a subject for epic, p. 208.
Consequent lack of proportion and unity in _Thebais_, p. 210.
Vergil too closely imitated, p. 211.
Digressions, p. 212.
Character-drawing superficial, p. 213.
Tydeus, p. 214.
Amphiaraus, p. 216.
Parthenopaeus and other characters, p. 218.
Atmosphere that of literature rather than life, p. 220.
Fine descriptive passages, p. 221.
Dexterity, often degenerating into preciosity, p. 224.
Similes, p. 225.
Metre, p. 226.
The _Achilleis_, p. 227.
The _Silvae_, p. 227.
Flattery of Domitian, p. 228.
Extraordinary preciosity, p. 229.
Prettiness and insincerity, p. 230.
Brilliant miniature-painting, p. 232.
The _Genethliacon Lucani_, p. 233.
Invocation to Sleep, p. 234.
Conclusion, p. 235.
CHAPTER X
SILIUS ITALlCUS
Life, p. 236.
Weakness of historical epic, p. 238.
Disastrous intrusion of mythology, p. 239.
Plagiarism from Vergil, p. 240.
Skill in composition of early books, p. 240.
Inadequate treatment of closing scenes of the war, p. 241.
The characters, p. 241.
Total absence of any real poetic gifts, p. 242.
Regulus, p. 244.
The death of Paulus, p. 246.
Fabius Cunctator, p. 247.
Conclusion, p. 249.
CHAPTER XI
MARTIAL
Life, p. 251.
The epigram, p. 258.
Martial's temperament, p. 259.
Gift of style, p. 260.
Satirical tone, good-humoured and non-moral, p. 261.
Obscenity, p. 263.
Capacity for friendship, p. 264.
His dislike of Rome, p. 267.
His love of the country, p. 268.
Comparison with Silvae of Statius, p. 271.
Flattery of Domitian, p. 271.
Laments for the dead, p. 272.
Emotion as a rule sacrificed to point, p. 275.
The laureate of triviality, p. 276.
Martial as a client, p. 277.
His snobbery, p. 279.
Redeeming features; polish and wit, p. 281.
The one perfect post-Augustan stylist, p. 284.
Vivid picture of contemporary society, p. 285.
CHAPTER XII
JUVENAL
Life, p. 287.
Date of satires, p. 289.
Motives (Sat, i), p. 291.
Themes of the various satires; third satire, p. 293;
fourth, fifth, and sixth satires, p. 294;
seventh and eighth satires; signs of waning power, p. 295;
tenth satire, p. 296;
eleventh, twelfth, thirteenth, and fourteenth satires, p. 297;
fifteenth and sixteenth satires, showing further decline of
power, p. 298.
Juvenal's narrow Roman ideals; hatred of the foreigner, p. 299.
Exaggeration, p. 301.
Coarseness, p. 303.
Vividness of description, p. 304.
Mordant epigram and rhetoric, p. 308.
Moral and religious ideals, p. 311.
_Sententiae_, p. 315.
Poetry, p. 316.
Metre, p. 317.
The one great poet of the Silver Age, p. 317.
INDEX OF NAMES, p. 321
FOOTNOTES
CHAPTER I
THE DECLINE OF POST-AUGUSTAN POETRY
During the latter years of the principate of Augustus a remarkable
change in literary methods and style begins to make itself felt. The
gradual extinction of the great luminaries is followed by a gradual
disappearance of originality and of the natural and easy-flowing style
whose phrases and felicities adorn, without overloading or obscuring the
sense. In their place comes a straining after effect, a love of
startling colour, produced now by over-gorgeous or over-minute imagery,
now by a surfeit of brilliant epigram, while controlling good sense and
observance of due proportion are often absent and imitative preciosity
too frequently masquerades as originality. Further, in too many cases
there is a complete absence of moral enthusiasm, close observation, and
genuine insight.
What were the causes of this change? Was it due mainly to the evil
influence of the principate or to more subtle and deep-rooted causes?
The principate had been denounced as the _fons et origo mali_.[1] That
its influence was for evil can hardly be denied. But it was rather a
symptom, an outward and visible sign of a deep-engrained decay, which it
accentuated and brought to the surface, but in no way originated. We are
told that the principate 'created around itself the quiet of the
graveyard, since all independence was compelled under threat of death to
hypocritical silence or subterfuge; servility alone was allowed to
speak; the rest submitted to what was inevitable, nay, even endeavoured
to accommodate their minds to it as much as possible.' Even if this
highly coloured statement were true, the influence of such tyrannical
suppression of free thinking and free speaking could only have
_directly_ affected certain forms of literature, such as satire, recent
history,[2] and political oratory, while even in these branches of
literature a wide field was left over which an intending author might
safely range. The _direct_ influence on poetry must have been
exceedingly small. If we review the great poets of the Augustan and
republican periods, we shall find little save certain epigrams of
Catullus that could not safely have been produced in post-Augustan
times. Moreover, when we turn to what is actually known of the attitude
of the early emperors towards literature, the balance does not seriously
incline against them. It may be said without hesitation of the four
emperors succeeding Augustus that they had a genuine taste and some
capacity for literature.
Of two only is it true that their influence was in any way repressive.
The principate of Tiberius is notorious for the silence of literature;
whether the fact is due as much to the character of Tiberius as to the
temporary exhaustion of genius following naturally on the brilliance of
the Augustan period, is more than doubtful. But Tiberius cannot be
acquitted of all blame. The cynical humour with which it pleased him to
mark the steady advance of autocracy, the _lentae maxillae_ which
Augustus attributed to his adopted son,[3] the icy and ironic cruelty
which was--on the most favourable estimate--a not inconsiderable element
in his character, no doubt all exercised a chilling influence, not only
on politics but on all spontaneous expression of human character.
Further, we find a few instances of active and cruel repression.
Lampoons against the emperor were punished with death.[4] Cremutius
Cordus was driven to suicide for styling 'Brutus and Cassius the last of
all the Romans'.[5] Mamercus Scaurus had the misfortune to write a
tragedy on the subject of Atreus in which he advised submission to
Atreus in a version of the Euripidean
[Greek: tas t_on turann_on amathias pherein chre_on][6]
He too fell a victim to the Emperor's displeasure, though the chief
charges actually brought against him were of adultery with the Princess
Livilla and practice of the black art. We hear also of another case in
which _obiectum est poetae quod in tragoedia Agamemnonem probris
lacessisset_ (Suet. _Tib_. 61). It is worthy of notice that actors also
came under Tiberius's displeasure.[7] The mime and the Atellan farce
afforded too free an opportunity for improvisation against the emperor.
Even the harmless Phaedrus seems to have incurred the anger of Sejanus,
and to have suffered thereby.[8] Nor do the few instances in which
Tiberius appears as a patron of literature fill us with great respect
for his taste. He is said to have given one Asellius Sabinus 100,000
sesterces for a dialogue between a mushroom, a finch, an oyster, and a
thrush,[9] and to have rewarded a worthless writer,[10] Clutorius
Priscus, for a poem composed on the death of Germanicus. On the other
hand, he seems to have had a sincere love of literature,[11] though he
wrote in a crabbed and affected style. He was a purist in language with
a taste for archaism,[12] left a brief autobiography[13] and dabbled in
poetry, writing epigrams,[14] a lyric _conquestio de morte Lucii
Caesaris_[15] and Greek imitations of Euphorion, Rhianus, and
Parthenius, the learned poets of Alexandria. His taste was bad: he went
even farther than his beloved Alexandrians, awaking the laughter of his
contemporaries even in an age when obscure mythological learning was at
a premium. The questions which delighted him were--'Who was the mother
of Hecuba?' 'What was the name of Achilles when disguised as a girl?'
'What did the sirens sing?'[16] Literature had little to learn from
Tiberius, but it should have had something to gain from the fact that he
was not blind to its charms: at the worst it cannot have required
abnormal skill to avoid incurring a charge of _lèse-majesté_.
The reign of the lunatic Caligula is of small importance, thanks to its
extreme brevity. For all his madness he had considerable ability; he was
ready of speech to a remarkable degree, though his oratory suffered from
extravagant ornament[17] and lack of restraint. He had, however, some
literary insight: in his description of Seneca's rhetoric as _merae
commissiones_, 'prize declamations,' and 'sand without lime' he gave an
admirable summary of that writer's chief weaknesses.[18] But he would in
all probability have proved a greater danger to literature than
Tiberius. It is true that in his desire to compare favourably with his
predecessors he allowed the writings of T. Labienus, Cremutius Cordus,
and Cassius Severus, which had fallen under the senate's ban in the two
preceding reigns, to be freely circulated once more.[19] But he by no
means abandoned trials for _lèse-majesté_. The rhetorician Carinas
Secundus was banished on account of an imprudent phrase in a _suasoria_
on the hackneyed theme of tyrannicide.[20] A writer of an Atellan farce
was burned to death in the amphitheatre[21] for a treasonable jest, and
Seneca narrowly escaped death for having made a brilliant display of
oratory in the senate.[22] He also seriously meditated the destruction
of the works of Homer. Plato had banished Homer from his ideal state.
Why should not Caligula? He was with difficulty restrained from doing
the like for Vergil and Livy. The former, he said, was a man of little
learning and less wit;[23] the latter was verbose and careless. Even
when he attempted to encourage literature, his eccentricity carried him
to such extremes that the competitors shrank in horror from entering the
lists. He instituted a contest at Lugudunum in which prizes were offered
for declamations in Greek and Latin. The prizes were presented to the
victors by the vanquished, who were ordered to write panegyrics in
honour of their successful rivals, while in cases where the declamations
were decided to be unusually poor, the unhappy authors were ordered to
obliterate their writings with a sponge or even with their own tongues,
under penalty of being caned or ducked in the Rhone.[24]
Literature had some reason to be thankful for his early assassination.
The lunatic was succeeded by a fool, but a learned fool. Claudius was
historian, antiquary, and philologist. He wrote two books on the civil
war, forty-one on the principate of Augustus, a defence of Cicero, eight
books of autobiography,[25] an official diary,[26] a treatise on
dicing.[27] To this must be added his writings in Greek, twenty books of
Etruscan history, eight of Carthaginian,[28] together with a comedy
performed and crowned at Naples in honour of the memory of
Germanicus.[29] His style, according to Suetonius, was _magis ineptus
quam inelegans_.[30] He did more than write: he attempted a reform of
spelling, by introducing three new letters into the Latin alphabet. His
enthusiasm and industry were exemplary. Such indeed was his activity
that a special office,[31] _a studiis_, was established, which was
filled for the first time by the influential freedman Polybius. Claudius
lacked the saving grace of good sense, but in happier days might have
been a useful professor: at any rate his interest in literature was
whole-hearted and disinterested. His own writing was too feeble to
influence contemporaries for ill and he had the merit of having given
literature room to move. Seneca might mock at him after his death,[32]
but he had done good service.
Nero, Claudius' successor, was also a liberal, if embarrassing, patron
of literature. His tastes were more purely literary. He had received an
elaborate and diversified education. He had even enjoyed the privilege
of having Seneca--the head of the literary profession--for his tutor.
These influences were not wholly for the good: Agrippina dissuaded him
from the study of philosophy as being unsuited for a future emperor,
Seneca from the study of earlier and saner orators that he might himself
have a longer lease of Nero's admiration.[33] The result was that a
temperament, perhaps falsely styled artistic,[34] was deprived of the
solid nutriment required to give it stability. Nero's great ambition was
to be supreme in poetry and art as he was supreme in empire. He composed
rapidly and with some technical skill,[35] but his work lacked
distinction, connexion of thought, and unity of style.[36] Satirical[37]
and erotic[38] epigrams, learned mythological poems on Attis and the
Bacchae,[39] all flowed from his pen. But his most famous works were his
_Troica_,[40] an epic on the Trojan legend, which he recited before the
people in the theatre,[41] and his [Greek: Iion al_osis], which may
perhaps have been included in the _Troica_, and is famous as having--so
scandal ran--been declaimed over burning Rome.[42] But his ambition
soared higher. He contemplated an epic on the whole of Roman history. It
was estimated that 400 books would be required. The Stoic Annaeus
Cornutus justly remarked that no one would read so many. It was pointed
out that the Stoic's master, Chrysippus, had written even more. 'Yes,'
said Cornutus, 'but they were of some use to humanity.' Cornutus was
banished, but he saved Rome from the epic. Nero was also prolific in
speeches and, proud of his voice, often appeared on the stage. He
impersonated Orestes matricida, Canace parturiens, Oedipus blind, and
Hercules mad.[43] It is not improbable that the words declaimed or sung
in these scenes were composed by Nero himself.[44] For the encouragement
of music and poetry he had established quinquennial games known as the
Neronia. How far his motives for so doing were interested it is hard to
say. But there is no doubt that he had a passionate ambition to win the
prize at the contest instituted by himself. In A.D. 60, on the first
occasion of the celebration of these games, the prize was won by Lucan
with a poem in praise of Nero.[45] Vacca, in his life of Lucan, states
that this lost him Nero's favour, the emperor being jealous of his
success. The story is demonstrably false,[46] but that Nero subsequently
became jealous of Lucan is undoubted. Till Lucan's fame was assured,
Nero extended his favour to him: then partly through Lucan's extreme
vanity and want of tact, partly through Nero's jealousy of Lucan's
pre-eminence that favour was wholly withdrawn.[47] Nevertheless, though
Nero may have shown jealousy of successful rivals, he seems to have had
sufficient respect for literature to refrain from persecution. He did
not go out of his way to punish personal attacks on himself. If names
were delated to the senate on such a charge, he inclined to mercy. Even
the introduction into an Atellan farce of jests on the deaths of
Claudius and Agrippina was only punished with exile.[48] Only after the
detection of Piso's conspiracy in 65 did his anger vent itself on
writers: towards the end of his reign the distinguished authors,
Virginius Flavus and the Stoic Musonius Rufus, were both driven into
exile. As for the deaths of Seneca and Lucan, the two most distinguished
writers of the day, though both perished at Nero's hands, it was their
conduct, not their writings, that brought them to destruction. Both were
implicated in the Pisonian conspiracy. If, then, Nero's direct influence
on literature was for the bad, it was not because he was adverse: it
suffered rather from his favour: the extravagant tastes of the princeps
and the many eccentricities of his life and character may perhaps find a
reflection in some of the more grotesque extravagances of Lucan, such
for instance as the absurdly servile dedication of the _Pharsalia_. But
even in this direction his influence was probably comparatively small.
In view, then, of what is known of the attitude of the four emperors of
the period most critical for Silver Latin literature, the period of its
birth, it may be said that, on the worst estimate, their direct
influence is not an important factor in the decline.[49] On the other
hand, the indirect influence of the principate was beyond doubt evil.
Society was corrupt enough and public life sufficiently uninspiring
under Augustus. After the first glow of enthusiasm over the restoration
of peace and order, and over the vindication of the Roman power on the
frontiers of empire had passed away, men felt how thinly veiled was
their slavery. Liberty was gradually restricted, autocracy cast off its
mask: the sense of power that goes with freedom dwindled; little was
left to waken man's enthusiasm, and the servility exacted by the
emperors became more and more degrading. Unpleasing as are the
flatteries addressed to Augustus by Vergil and Horace, they fade into
insignificance compared with Lucan's apotheosis of Nero; or to take
later and yet more revolting examples, the poems of the Silvae addressed
by Statius to Domitian or his favourites. Further, these four emperors
of the Julio-Claudian dynasty set a low standard of private life: they
might command flattery, they could hardly exact respect. Two clever
lunatics, a learned fool, and a morose cynic are not inspiring.
Nevertheless, however unhealthy its influence may have been--and there
has been much exaggeration on this point--it must be remembered that the
principate found ready to its hand a society with all the seeds of decay
implanted deep within it. Even a succession of sane and virtuous Caesars
might well have failed, with the machinery and material at their
disposal, to put new and vigorous life into the aristocracy and people
of Rome. Even the encroachments of despotism on popular liberty must be
attributed in no small degree to the incapacity of what should have been
the ruling class at Rome. Despotism was in a sense forced upon the
emperors: they were not reluctant, but, had they been so, they would
still have had little choice. The primary causes of the decline of
literature, as of the decay of life and morals, lie much deeper. The
influence of princeps and principate, though not negligible, is
_comparatively_ small.
The really important causes are to be found first in the general decay
of Roman character--far-advanced before the coming of Caesarism,
secondly in the peculiar nature of Roman literature, and thirdly in the
vicious system of Roman education.
It was the first of these factors that produced the lubricity that
defiles and the lack of moral earnestness that weakens such a large
proportion of the literature of this age. It is not necessary to
illustrate this point in any detail.[50] The record of Rome, alike in
home and foreign politics, during the hundred and twenty years preceding
the foundation of the principate forms one of the most fascinating, but
in many respects one of the most profoundly melancholy pages in history.
The poems of Catullus and the speeches of Cicero serve equally to
illustrate the wholesale corruption alike of public and private
morality. The Roman character had broken down before the gradual inroads
of an alien luxury and the opening of wide fields of empire to plunder.
It is an age of incredible scandal, of mob law, of _coups d'état_ and
proscriptions, saved only from utter gloom by the illusory light shed
from the figures of a few great men and by the never absent sense of
freedom and expansion. There still remained a republican liberty of
action, an inspiring possibility of reform, an outlet for personal
ambition, which facilitated the rise of great leaders and writers. And
Rome was now bringing to ripeness fruit sprung from the seed of
Hellenism, a decadent and meretricious Hellenism, but even in its decay
the greatest intellectual force of the world.
Wonderful as was the fruit produced by the graft of Hellenism, it too
contained the seeds of decay. For Rome owed too little to early Greek
epic and to the golden literature of Athens, too much to the later age
when rhetoric had become a knack, and
the love of letters overdone
Had swamped the sacred poets with themselves.[51]
Roman literature came too late: that it reached such heights is a
remarkable tribute to the greatness of Roman genius, even in its
decline. With the exception of the satires of Lucilius and Horace there
was practically no branch of literature that did not owe its inspiration
and form to Greek models. Even the primitive national metre had died
out. Roman literature--more especially poetry--was therefore bound to be
unduly self-conscious and was always in danger of a lack of spontaneity.
That Rome produced great prose writers is not surprising; they had
copious and untouched material to deal with, and prose structure was
naturally less rapidly and less radically affected by Greek influence.
That she should have produced a Catullus, a Lucretius, a Vergil, a
Horace, and--most wonderful of all--an Ovid was an amazing achievement,
rendered not the less astonishing when it is remembered that the stern
bent of the practical Roman mind did not in earlier days give high
promise of poetry. The marvel is not wholly to be explained by the
circumstances of the age. The new sense of power, the revival of the
national spirit under the warming influence of peace and hope, that
characterize the brilliant interval between the fall of the republic and
the turbid stagnation of the empire, are not enough to account for it.
Their influence would have been in vain had they not found remarkable
genius ready for the kindling.
The whole field of literature had been so thoroughly covered by the
great writers of Hellas, that it was hard for the imitative Roman to be
original. As far as epic poetry was concerned, Rome had poor material
with which to deal: neither her mythology--the most prosaic and
business-like of all mythologies--nor her history seemed to give any
real scope for the epic writer. The Greek mythology was ready to hand,
but it was hard for a Roman to treat it with high enthusiasm, and still
harder to handle it with freshness and individuality. The purely
historical epic is from its very nature doomed to failure. Treated with
accuracy it becomes prosy, treated with fancy it becomes ridiculous.
Vergil saw the one possible avenue to epic greatness. He went back into
the legendary past where imagination could have free play, linked
together the great heroic sagas of Greece with the scanty materials
presented by the prehistoric legends of Rome, and kindled the whole work
to life by his rich historical imagination and his sense of the grandeur
of the Rome that was to be. His unerring choice of subject and his
brilliant execution seemed to close to his successors all paths to epic
fame. They had but well-worn and inferior themes wherefrom to choose,
and the supremacy of Vergil's genius dominated their minds, becoming an
obsession and a clog rather than an assistance to such poetic genius as
they possessed. The same is true of Horace. As complete a master in
lyric verse as Vergil in heroic, he left the after-comer no possibility
of advance. As for Ovid, there could be only one Ovid: the cleverest and
most heartless of poets, he at once challenged and defied imitation.
Satire alone was left with real chance of success: while the human race
exists, there will always be fresh material for satire, and the imperial
age was destined to give it peculiar force and scope. Further, satire
and its nearest kin, the epigram, were the only forms of literature that
were not seriously impaired by the artificial system of education that
had struck root in Rome.
Otherwise the tendency to artificiality on the one hand and inadequacy
of thought on the other, to which the conditions of its birth and growth
exposed Roman literature, were aggravated to an almost incredible extent
by the absurd system of education to which the unformed mind of the
young Roman was subjected. It will be seen that what Greece gave with
the right hand she took away with the left.
There were three stages in Roman education, the elementary, the
literary, the rhetorical. The first, in which the _litterator_ taught
the three R's, does not concern us here. In the second stage the
_grammaticus_ gave instruction in Greek and Latin literature, together
with the elements of grammar and style. The profound influence of Greece
is shown by Quintilian's recommendation[52] that a boy should start on
Greek literature, and by the fact that boys began with Homer.[53] Greek
authors, particularly studied, were Aesop, Hesiod, the tragedians, and
Menander.[54] Among Roman authors Naevius, Ennius, Pacuvius, Accius,
Afranius, Plautus, Caecilius, and Terence were much read, though there
was a reaction against these early authors under the empire, and they
were partly replaced by Vergil, Horace, and Ovid.[55] These authors were
made vehicles for the teaching of grammar and of style. The latter point
alone concerns us here. The Roman boy was taught to read aloud
intelligently and artistically with the proper modulation of the voice.
For this purpose he was carefully taught the laws of metre, with special
reference to the peculiarities of particular poets. After the reading
aloud (_lectio_) came the _enarratio_ or explanation of the text. The
educational value of this was doubtless considerable, though it was
impaired by the importance assigned to obscure mythological knowledge
and unscientific archaeology.[56] The pupil would be further instructed
by exercises in paraphrase and by the treatment in simple essay form of
themes (_sententiae_). 'Great store was set both in speaking and writing
on a command of an abundance of general truths or commonplaces, and even
at school boys were trained to commit them to memory, to expand them,
and illustrate them from history.'[57] Finally they were taught to write
verse. Such at least is a legitimate inference from the extraordinary
precocity shown by many Roman authors.[58] This literary training
contained much that was of great value, but it also had grave
disadvantages. There seems in the first place to have been too much
'spoon-feeding', and too little genuine brain exercise for the
pupil.[59] Secondly, the fact that at this stage boys were nurtured
almost entirely on poetry requires serious consideration. The quality of
the food supplied to the mind, though pre-eminently palatable, must have
tended to be somewhat thin. The elaborate instruction in mythological
erudition was devoid of religious value; and indeed of any value, save
the training of a purely mechanical memory. Attention was called too
much to the form, too little to the substance. Style has its value, but
it is after all only a secondary consideration in education. The effect
upon literature of this poetical training was twofold. It caused an
undue demand for poetical colour in prose, and produced a horrible
precocity and _cacoethes scribendi_[60] in verse, together with an
abnormal tendency to imitation of the great writers of previous
generations.[61]
But the rhetorical training which succeeded was responsible for far
worse evils. The importance of rhetoric in ancient education is easily
explained. The Greek or Roman gentleman was destined to play a part in
the public life of the city state. For this purpose the art of speaking
was of enormous value alike in politics and in the law courts. Hence the
universal predominance of rhetoric in higher education both in Rome and
Greece.[62] The main instrument of instruction was the writing of themes
for declamation. These exercises were divided into _suasoriae_--
deliberative speeches in which some course of action was discussed--
and _controversiae_--where some proposition was maintained or denied.
Pupils began with _suasoriae_ and went on to _controversiae_. Regarded
as a mental gymnastic, these themes may have possessed some value. But
they were hackneyed and absurdly remote from real life, as can be judged
from the examples collected by the elder Seneca. Typical subjects of the
_suasoria_ are--'Agamemnon deliberates whether to slay Iphigenia';[63]
'Cicero deliberates whether to burn his writings, Antony having promised
to spare him on that condition';[64] 'Three hundred Spartans sent against
Xerxes after the flight of troops sent from the rest of Greece deliberate
whether to stand or fly.'[65]
The _controversia_ requires further explanation. A general law is
stated, e.g. _incesta saxo deiciatur_. A special case follows, e.g.
_incesti damnata antequam deiceretur invocavit Vestam: deiecta vixit_.
The special case had to be brought under the general rule; _repetitur ad
poenam_.[66] Other examples are equally absurd:[67] one and all are
ridiculously remote from real life. It was bad enough that boys' time
should be wasted thus, but the evil was further emphasized by the
practice of recitation. These exercises, duly corrected and elaborated,
were often recited by their youthful authors to an audience of
complaisant friends and relations. Of such training there could be but
one possible result. 'Less and less attention was paid to the substance
of the speech, more and more to the language; justness and
appropriateness of thought came to be less esteemed than brilliance and
novelty of expression.'[68]
These formal defects of education were accompanied by a widespread
neglect of the true educational spirit. The development on healthy lines
of the _morale_, and intellect of the young became in too many instances
a matter of indifference. Throughout the great work of Quintilian we
have continued evidence of the lack of moral and intellectual enthusiasm
that characterized the schools of his day. Even more passionate are the
denunciations levelled against contemporary education by Messala in the
_Dialogus_ of Tacitus.[69] Parents neglect their children from their
earliest years: they place them in the charge of foreign slaves, often
of the most degraded character; or if they do pay any personal attention
to their upbringing, it is to teach them not honesty, purity, and
respect for themselves and their elders, but pertness, luxurious habits,
and neglect alike of themselves and of others. The schools moreover,
apart from their faulty methods and ideals of instruction, encourage
other faults. The boys' interests lie not in their work, but in the
theatres, the gladiatorial games, the races in the circus--those ancient
equivalents of twentieth-century athleticism. Their minds are utterly
absorbed by these pursuits, and there is little room left for nobler
studies. 'How few boys will talk of anything else at home? What topic of
conversation is so frequent in the lecture-room; what other subject so
frequently on the lips of the masters, who collect pupils not by the
thoroughness of their teaching or by giving proof of their powers of
instruction, but by interested visits and all the tricks of
toadyism?'[70] Messala goes on[71] to denounce the unreality of the
exercises in the schools, whose deleterious effect is aggravated by the
low standard exacted. 'Boys and young men are the speakers, boys and
young men the audience, and their efforts are received with
undiscriminating praise.'
The same faults that were generated in the schools were intensified in
after-life. In the law courts the same smart epigrams, the same
meretricious style were required. No true method had been taught, with
the result that 'frivolity of style, shallow thoughts, and disorderly
structure' prevailed; orators imitated the rhythms of the stage and
actually made it their boast that their speeches would form fitting
accompaniments to song and dance. It became a common saying that 'our
orators speak voluptuously, while our actors dance eloquently'.[72]
Poetical colour was demanded of the orator, rhetorical colour of the
poet. The literary and rhetorical stages of education reacted on one
another.[73]
Further, just as the young poet had to his great detriment been
encouraged to recite at school, so he had to recite if he was to win
fame for his verse in the larger world. Even in a saner society poetry
written primarily for recitation must have run to rhetoric; in a
rhetorical age the result was disastrous. In an enormous proportion of
cases the poet of the Silver Age wrote literally for an audience. Great
as were the facilities for publication the poet primarily made his name,
not by the gradual distribution of his works among a reading public, but
by declaiming before public or private audiences. The practice of
gathering a circle of acquaintances together to listen to the
recitations of a poet is said first to have been instituted by Asinius
Pollio, the patron of Vergil. There is evidence to show that all the
poets of the Augustan age gave recitations.[74] But the practice
gradually increased and became a nuisance to all save the few who had
the courage to stand aloof from these mutual admiration societies.
Indiscriminate praise was lavished on good and bad work alike. Even
Pliny the younger, whose cultivation and literary taste place him high
above the average literary level of his day, approves of the increase of
this melancholy harvest of minor poetry declaimed by uninspired
bards.[75] The effect was lamentable. All the faults of the _suasoria_
and _controversia_ made their appearance in poetry.[76] The poet had
continually to be performing acrobatic feats, now of rhetoric or
epigram, now of learning, or again in the description of blood-curdling
horrors, monstrous deaths and prodigious sorceries. Each work was
overloaded with _sententiae_ and purple patches.[77] So only could the
author keep the attention of his audience. The results were disastrous
for literature and not too satisfactory[78] for the authors themselves,
as the following curious passage from Tacitus (_Dial._ 9) shows:
Bassus is a genuine poet, and his verse possesses both beauty and
charm: but the only result is that, when after a whole year, working
every day and often well into the night, he has hammered out one
book of poems, he must needs go about requesting people to be
good enough to give him a hearing: and what is more he has to
pay for it: for he borrows a house, constructs an auditorium,
hires benches and distributes programmes. And then--admitting
his recitations to be highly successful--yet all that honour and
glory falls within one or two days, prematurely gathered like grass
in the blade or flowers in their earliest bloom: it has no sure or
solid reward, wins no friendship or following or lasting gratitude,
naught save a transient applause, empty words of praise and a
fleeting enthusiasm.
The less fortunate poet had to betake himself to the forum or the public
baths or some temple, there to inflict his tawdry wares upon the ears of
a chance audience.[79] Others more fortunate would be lent a room by
some rich patron.[80] Under Nero and Domitian we get the apotheosis of
recitation. Nero, we have seen, established the Neronia in 60 and
himself competed. Domitian established a quinquennial competition in
honour of Jupiter Capitolinus in 86 and an annual competition held every
Quinquatria Minervae at his palace on the Alban mount.[81] From that
time forward it became the ambition of every poet to be crowned at these
grotesque competitions.
The result of all these co-operating influences will be evident as we
deal with the individual poets. Here we can only give a brief summary
of the general characteristics of this fantastic literature. We have a
striving after originality that ends in eccentricity: writers were
steeped in the great poets of the Augustan age: men of comparatively
small creative imagination, but, thanks to their education, possessed
of great technical skill, they ran into violent extremes to avoid the
charge of imitating the great predecessors whom they could not help but
imitate; hence the obscurity of Persius--the disciple of Horace--and of
Statins and Valerius Flaccus--the followers of Vergil. Hence Lucan's
bold attempt to strike out a new type of epic, an attempt that ended in
a wild orgy of brilliant yet turbid rhetoric. The simple and natural
was at a discount: brilliance of point, bombastic description, gorgeous
colour were preferred to quiet power. Alexandrian learning, already too
much in evidence in the Augustan age, becomes more prominent and more
oppressive. For men of second-rate talent it served to give their work
a spurious air of depth and originality to which it was not entitled.
The necessity of patronage engendered a fulsome flattery, while the
false tone of the schools of rhetoric,[82] aided perhaps by the
influence of the Stoical training so fashionable at Rome, led to a
marvellous conceit and self-complacency, of which a lack of humour was
a necessary corollary. These symptoms are seen at their worst during
the extravagant reign of Nero, though the blame attaches as much to
Seneca as to his pupil and emperor. Traces of a reaction against this
wild unreality are perhaps to be found in the literary criticism
scattered tip and down the pages of Petronius,[83] but it was not till
the extinction of Nero and Seneca that any strong revolt in the
direction of sanity can be traced. Even then it is rather in the sphere
of prose than of poetry that it is manifest. Quintilian headed a
Ciceronian reaction and was followed by Pliny the younger and for a
time by Tacitus. But we may perhaps trace a similar Vergilian reaction
in the verse of Silius, Statius, and Valerius.[84] Their faults do not
nauseate to the same extent of those of their predecessors. But the
mischief was done, and in point of extravagance and meretricious taste
the differense is only one of degree.
Satire alone attains to real eminence: rhetoric and epigram are its most
mordant weapons, and the schools of rhetoric, if they did nothing else,
kept those weapons well sharpened: the gross evils of the age opened an
ample field for the satirist. Hence it is that all or almost all that is
best in the literature of the Silver Age is satirical or strongly tinged
with satire. Tacitus, who had many of the noblest qualifications of a
poet, almost deserves the title of Rome's greatest satirist; the works
of Persius and Juvenal speak openly for themselves while many of the
finest passages in Lucans are most near akin to satire. It is true that
under the principate satire had to be employed with caution; under the
first two dynasties it was compelled to be general in tone: it was not
until after the fall of Domitian, under the enlightened rule of Nerva
and Trajan, that it found a freer scope and was at least allowed to lash
the vices of the present under the names of the past.
It is in satire alone that we find any trace of genuine moral
earnestness and enthusiasm; and the reason for this is primarily that
the satirists wrote under the influence of the one force that definitely
and steadily made for righteousness. It is the Stoic philosophy that
kindles Persius and Lucan, while Tacitus and Juvenal, even if they make
no profession of Stoicism, have yet been profoundly influenced by its
teaching. Their morality takes its colour, if not its form, from the
philosophy oh the 'Porch'. The only non-satirical poetry primarily
inspired by Stoicism is the dramatic verse of Seneca. That its influence
here is not wholly for the best is due only in part to the intrinsic
qualities of its teaching. It is rather in its application that the
fault lies; it dominates and crushes the drama instead of suffusing it
and lending it wings; it insists on preaching instead of suggesting. It
is too insistent and aggressive a creed to harmonize with poetry, unless
that poetry be definitely didactic in type and aim. But it is admirably
suited to be the inspiration of satire, and it is therefore that the
satire makes a far stronger moral appeal than any other form of
post-Augustan literature.
Satire apart, the period is in the main an age of _belles lettres_, of
'the literary _gourmet_, the connoisseur, the _blasé_ and disillusioned
man of society, passionately appreciative of detail, difficulties
overcome, and petty felicities of expression.'[85] It is the fashion to
despise its works, and the fashion cannot be described as unhealthy or
unjust. Yet it produced a few men of genius, while even in the works of
those who were far removed from genius, the very fact that there is much
refinement of wit, much triumphing over technical difficulties, much
elaborate felicity of expression, makes them always a curious and at
times a remunerative study. But perhaps its greatest claim upon us lies
in the unexpected service that it rendered to the cause of culture. In
the darkness of the Middle Ages when Greek was a hidden mystery to the
western world, Lucan and Statius, Juvenal and Persius, and even the
humble and unknown author of the _Ilias Latina_, did their part in
keeping the lamp alive and illumining the midnight in which lay hidden
the 'budding morrow' of the Renaissance.